Wait

Tending the hydroponic farms in the belly of the Order's temple is about as close as anyone can get to being in solitude on Coruscant, which is just how Jolee Bindo likes it. When he returned everyone kept telling him he ought to take some young padawan and go dispensing Jedi justice about the galaxy again, or some such load of crap. Then, when the others began to slip quietly into the stars, they told him to go find a hiding place, to take some younglings there -- take anyone there. But he has dug his heels right in; he'll go when he's good and ready, and for now, the quiet of the garden is just what he's looking for.

"Hey, you want to pass me those parts?"

"Sure."

A moment's work, then a crack and spark of light. "Damnit!" Revan whips her hand away and brings it to her mouth.

Of course things couldn't be that perfect for long, but Jolee won't begrudge Revan this second intrusion into his life. Sure, Bastila was probably loving being cloistered away to contemplate her navel like a good little Jedi, but Revan... well, he's been doing the best he can, but not even Vandar's legendary patience could spin flax into gold.

"Sod it," she mutters, shaking her burned fingers. "Look at these ridiculous little repulsorlift cells. You know you can't send these droids up on the ceiling all the time."

"Oh, yes I can. I keep breakin' 'em, you keep fixin' 'em. Sounds like a perfectly good arrangement to me."

Her eyes narrow to a mock severity, half a smile at the corners. "And sod you too, old man."

"Heh."

So, it looks like they found something 'important' for him to do after all. When the Council asks after her, he makes a point of telling them just enough to keep them off his back -- yes, she's been spending time on study and meditation, yes, hard work is doing her a world of good, yes, bearing the wait as well as can be expected, blah-blah, blah-blah.

It hasn't been so long since she pushed him away, pushed everyone away, near-furious at being exiled in plain sight. Some days, even the Force seems to be skirting around her, as though she's holding it off at arm's length. And there, always in the back of her mind, is the insistent pull of the thing that calls her from the unknown regions beyond.

But sometimes, like tonight, she seems a little more receptive to discussion.

"I heard you thumping around out here last night," Jolee says. "Trouble sleeping?"

She has nothing to say about that at first, flicking him a glance before returning her attention to the gently smoking droid carcass.

"I got a message last night," she says eventually, "from Helena Shan's doctors. She... she's going, soon."

"Ah."

"She's comfortable, they said -- as comfortable as I suppose she could be, anyway. They're keeping her alone. They can't contact Bastila, of course. I'm surprised they even managed to find me here." A few tweaks here and there, and the droid whirs into life, hovering a few inches over the workbench. "Hey, welcome back, Sparky."

"Nice job, girl."

"Thanks." She stood, wiping the soot from her fingers on the corner of her robe. "They said she isn't coherent anymore, that she keeps asking for her husband, for her daughter... all kinds of people. She should not have to die alone, Jolee."

"There are so many who shouldn't."

"It's unjust. It always has been. If I could just reach Bastila. I'm so tired of having to hide here and wait to go hide someplace else, and... oh, I know, you've heard it."

Oh, so many times, from his own lips more than anyone's.

"I'm sorry I woke you." she finishes quietly.

He waves her off. "Eh, forget it. I was up and about anyway. You get to my age, the waterworks don't always hold out till morning."

She has half a smile for that one, too. "So much to look forward to."

"That's right." He gets up from the workbench, making a show of stretching creaky old muscles. "Got some herbs and things to help you sleep, if you need it." And time. He always has time.

"It'll be fine. Think I'll go get some air."

"Suit yourself." 'Some air' usually means she'll be stopping by the cantina with a Pazaak deck in her pocket. He'd never dream of telling the Council, but he'd love to see the expressions on their faces if they thought their prodigal knight was out without a damn babysitter.

But he knows that one day soon she'll 'step out for air', and never come back.