I've Searched the Galaxy for You

I've Searched the Galaxy for You

Metarie Keno aimlessly wandered the hallways of Citadel Station, her heart heavy with the anguish of loneliness. Even during her time of exile had she never experienced a pain this deep, this stabbing. It truly, genuinely hurt. It felt as though a part of her heart had been violently ripped from her chest. Scratch that. It felt as though someone had pinned her to the floor with a lightsaber through each shoulder before slowly, mercilessly cutting through her chest, reaching inside, cruelly grabbing her heart in their fists and just squeezing. She didn't like the mental image that gave her, but it was the only way to truly describe it even though she knew that no physical pain could ever match it.

She stopped her wanderings through the corridors and leaned back against a wall, closing her eyes and trying to bite back the tears. There was this one dark thought in the back of her mind, and try as she might, she could not keep it back there. It kept poking its way up to the forefront of her consciousness. She kept seeing this image of Atton lying in a lifeless heap somewhere with blood staining the back of his beat-up ribbed jacket that she had come to love as dearly as she did him. Sometimes, that image would awaken her in the night, leaving her breathless and terrified. Sometimes, she'd wake up screaming his name and expecting him to come racing in from the next room to hold her. But he never came. No one ever did. There was only that thought, that horrible image, to prod her and twist her into a grief-stricken emotional wreck. No matter how hard she tried, she kept seeing that blood--his blood--flowing out onto the ground from his broken body. She clamped her hand over her mouth as she leaned back against the wall, stifling a sob of despair. She tried to believe that he wasn't dead, but she was losing hope. What if it was true? What if it was less of a nightmare and more of a vision? What if it was a vision that was laughing its head off at her for her not being there?

"He's not dead," she whispered to the ceiling. "He just can't be. I think t--that if he were, I'd know! I'd have felt it!"

But yet, she doubted. She doubted everything. She doubted her ability to sense another's pain through the Force, which caused her to doubt if she could even reach out with the Force to locate him anymore. Chances were, she wouldn't be able to. If he was still alive, which was something else that she doubted, he'd probably be blocking his mind again.

"Face it, Met," she sighed to herself. "He's probably gone."

That thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, and her next thought was to find something to wash it down with. The next thing she knew, she was wandering down the halls again, into the cantina, and up to the bar. She refrained from ordering a juma juice because it reminded her too much of him and instead chose a small glass of Corellian whiskey. It was pretty hard liquor as far as liquors went, but she didn't really care. She was only planning on having one, anyway.

As she took a sip from her glass, she was nearly knocked to the floor by the sudden presence of a familiar trait. Glancing quickly around the bar, she tried to determine the location of the source but failed. Her pulse quickened as it grew stronger and she realized she had accidentally stumbled into familiar mental territory.

"Switch the face of the +1 -1 card to +1 to get 20 . . . No, no, no. Switch it to -1 to get 20. Whoops. That only makes 19. Dammit! I must be losing my touch. Right, so . . . instead of the +1 -1 card, pull a +2 from the side deck and . . ."

Metarie spun around, breathing rapidly as she hurriedly scanned faces of the cantina's clientele. As her eyes fell on a nearby pazaak table, her heart nearly stopped beating as her gaze landed on a handful of cards connected to a hand covered in a burgundy fingerless glove. The glove was connected to a white shirt that could use a good washing, and that was connected to a brown leather ribbed jacket. And that . . . was connected to Atton. Metarie gasped and covered her mouth with both hands as she gazed at him for the first time in months. At that moment, it seemed almost as if something had prodded him in the back, for Atton turned and looked up at her. Their eyes locked, and a mix of relief and joy washed over his face. Not taking his eyes off Metarie, he threw down his cards, dealt himself out of the game, and rose from the table. It seemed like a century passed as he walked across the room to her. Metarie could hardly contain her happiness as the familiar jacket brushed across her skin, and the next moment, she threw herself into his arms. Without saying a word, Atton embraced her tightly, nuzzling his face into her soft, long brown hair and catching the light fragrance of soap on it. He sighed contentedly before releasing her, but he allowed his hands to remain resting lightly upon her slender waist. Metarie reached up and repeatedly brushed her fingers through his thick brown hair, never wanting to let go.

"Oh, Atton," she whispered as her eyes filled with tears. "I . . . I thought I'd lost you! Where have you been all this time?!"

"Right here," Atton answered, nodding around at the cantina.

"What are you talking about? I searched high and low for you, and all this time you've been here on Telos?"

"You left me here, Met. I had to stay. I had to keep thinking you'd come back."

Not saying another thing, not offering another explanation, he bent down close to her and grabbed her lips with his in a romantic kiss that he had obviously been waiting so long to give her. Metarie closed her eyes as she cupped his jaw in her hand, deepening the kiss and willing it never to end. But it did, as all good things do, and as they pulled apart, they exchanged a small smile that only betrayed a tiny portion of how much they had missed each other. Metarie ran her hands across his broad shoulders, sighing happily.

"I wanted so badly to find you," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back. "There wasn't a day that didn't go by that I didn't think about you. Met, you're . . . you're my angel. And I love you."

He kissed her again, and Metarie did not protest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just allowed him to hold her. It was what she had wanted all along. When the second kiss ended, she buried her face in his shoulder and gave another sigh of contentment. Atton bent down and lightly left a kiss on her neck, and brought his mouth up to her ear.

"Marry me, Metarie," he whispered into her ear, grabbing her hand and pressing it to his chest. "Please, tell me you will."

"Of course I will," she replied softly as tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. She brushed her fingers tenderly through his hair again and closed her eyes. "I've searched the galaxy for you, Atton, but now I've finally found you. And neither of us has to wander anymore."

End.