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If there is anything Jace Malcom hates more than politics, it’s pointless ceremonies and endless frivolous celebrations.
He’s never been one for social niceties and rubbing elbows with the leaders of the Republic in the first place, preferring to be out among his men and, for the most part, ignoring the Senate and Supreme Chancellor unless they sent him direct commands. Of course, he knows how to play nice and that it is inevitable that he has to at some points in his career but that doesn't mean he is ever going to enjoy it.
He frowns as he tugs surreptitiously at his collar. If he's honest with himself, he can't be surprised that the ceremony was arranged and his presence demanded; the resignation of Rans before him has resulted in more than a little instability in the Republic and they need to present a sense of continuity, of normalcy. Something to give to the people in a time of chaos.
He knows that, but that fact does not make it any easier to mix with the Republic’s elite. Not when he also knows that good soldiers are currently risking their lives, fighting for the Republic, while he mingles and makes small talk.
A look around the room shows many of the same people he'd expected to make an appearance. Senators and high ranking officials, all dressed in finery, converse in quiet voices about the future of the Republic, about the outcome on Ilum and the breakdown of Makeb and the dozens of other skirmishes with the Empire that have occurred in recent years. He hardly spares them a glance as he continues to scan the crowd, trying to convince himself that he’s not looking for one person in particular. That his heart doesn’t sink when he fails to spot a short figure with dark, braided hair and piercing pale eyes.
Then again, he was never very good at lying to himself.
By the time he makes it through all of the well-wishes and felicitations, he already feels like he has been there for hours… and has the sneaking suspicion that he has been propositioned more than a few times. It is with no small relief that he spots General Garza chatting with the equally newly-appointed Commander Shi and makes a beeline for them; if nothing else, they can buffer the attentions that he receives until he has stayed long enough to fulfill his social obligations and will not be breaching any codes of etiquette by leaving.
Before he can take more than a few steps, he hears a quiet “Congratulations, Supreme Commander” and freezes.
Her voice has not changed in the years since the Great Galactic War, since before Gell Mattar and memories that he has never been able to revisit, but has also never been able to forget. Decades are not long enough for him to fail to recognize it; he’s not sure an eternity would be enough. And even so, he turns slowly, part of him wondering whether he’s projecting his own wishes into the present.
But she is there, a faint smile lighting up features that are older, more tempered, perhaps, but still irrevocably her. Decked in her usual Jedi robes, she stands out in the elaborate finery surrounding them, and yet he can't help but think that she puts the garish outfits to shame. That she has always managed to put the rest of the Republic to shame.
“Thank you, Master Shan,” he returns once he is sure his voice can remain steady. Even so, he can hear the light strain from words, questions, that have festered for decades in her absence.
Questions of whether she cared and whether she could move on and why that he has asked himself countless times before.
But now is not the time or place and he reigns them in with some difficulty. “I am glad you were able to attend,” he offers instead, an olive branch that she accepts with a gracious smile, her features softening with pride and perhaps a hint of something more, something gentler.
“I wouldn't miss it.”
The pause that follows seems to drag on and he wonders whether it is as awkward, as taut with unspoken words, to her as it is to him. He watches as she shifts her weight, uncharacteristic hesitation crossing her face.
“I didn’t know Commander Rans particularly well, but he was a good leader.” She looks him in the eyes and the sheer sincerity in her gaze takes him aback. “And I have full faith that you will be more than up to task of replacing him.” Another pause. “I mean-”
He cannot help but smile. “I know. Thank you.”
She nods, the hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks, so faint that he is certain nobody else could see it, that if he did not know her as well as he did, he wouldn’t have seen it. “And Jace…” He blinks at his name, spoken so softly he almost misses it. “If you ever need anything, if I can aid you in any way, let me know.”
“I will, Satele.” Her name slips out before he can think to stop it, gentle and sweet and right on his lips. His hand twitches as he resists the urge to reach for her, the unexpected ache to hold her, to erase the signs of stress on her face.
She seems to notice his hesitation, a flicker of emotion crossing her face faster than he can recognize before she smiles again, her gaze warmer than he has seen in a long time.
And as she bows before slipping away through the crowd, he cannot help but think that the entire thing was worthwhile after all.