Chapter Text
When the Council ordered, Agen obeyed. It wasn't his job to decide what should be done, it was his job to carry it out, because a decision is worth nothing if nobody is willing to make sure it's carried out..
Many criticised him for this, but Agen always believed that his faith and devotion made him stronger. He performed his duty with commitment and expected the same of others... which was why he could not hold a grudge against Quinlan. All the anger he had to fight against, that burning, toxic feeling of betrayal that poisoned every second of his life, he hadn't been able to conjure it up again when he thought of his secret lover... if he still was.
Quinlan would be arriving on Coruscant soon, so he'd probably have his answer soon, wouldn't he?
If only it made him feel any better.
In this case, he was on his knees, trying to meditate but it was only to ease his consciousness, he could not do it and it was deluding himself to continue, but he kept on doing it.
It soothed him in spite of everything.
His gaze was fixed on a scratch in the wall directly in front of him, which he often reached out to touch, overwhelmed with emotion.
It was Tan who had made it the first night he had his own lightsaber. Caught up in the excitement of showing it to him, he had lit it too close to Agen and dropped the weapon in his fear of hurting him, and in the fall the wall had been damaged. Agen had never had it repaired, it was an inside joke between them, and then, since it was only him, it was a memory that no one else understood.
Tan was gone, Eeth had been lost to the enemy, kept alive for who knew what reason and from what he knew until very recently, Quinlan had betrayed the Order.
He had believed that his companion, the man he was closest to, the person to whom he had entrusted the most vulnerability and weakness, had Fallen. That he had betrayed and sold them all... that he had betrayed him.
He had been the one sent to stop him, damn it! He had fought Quinlan with violence and determination, and if the place had not been so hostile to Jedi, he would have won, because of course he would have won, Quinlan could not hold out against him for long even if Agen held back his strength.
He did not blame the High Council for organising it or sending him, relying on his reputation and fighting spirit to sell the desertion successfully, they had good objective reasons which he actually understood and approved of sincerely. They were no longer just Jedi, they were Generals, and their duty was to protect as many lives as possible using military tactics. Sending a spy to kill Dooku was an opportunity not to be missed, and the fact that Quinlan had not succeeded did not mean they had not been right to go for it. This was neither the time nor the place to be emotional, it was necessary to remain rational, logical, pragmatic.
He ended the day crying, rolled into a ball in his bed, his deconstructed lightsaber beside him, a vibrant blue kyber crystal in hands.
He would give himself the night to be emotional and then he would conceal everything away again.
He would really like his public reputation to be true, just being an emotionless lapdog would be so much nicer, if only he could feel nothing.
It hurt so much to feel so strongly.