Reunion

Reunion

    It’s been five years since she left.  I’ve tried to force myself to believe that she’s never coming back, but my heart won’t let me.  I miss her greatly, but the pain always worsens when I think about all we shared.  I still love her deeply, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same about me now as she did back then.  Every time I close my eyes, I see her face.  I still remember how her eyes used to sparkle when we talked.  I remember her soft touch and gentle smile, and how she used those to heal the gnawing pain of my past.  And yet, even though she was so sweet and quiet, she could fight when she needed to.  She was strong; the defensive posture she took and the skill she possessed during combat always could amaze me.  She was feisty, too; I still remember how flustered and angry she was when she called me a hairless Wookiee.  Thinking of how she spat the words into my face still makes me smile after all this time, because I can still hear her saying it.

     I close my eyes here on the bridge, holding in my head the memory of holding her in my arms only a day before she left.  I see her smile, and I miss her more than ever before.  I wonder to myself where she could be.  She left no trace of herself, and that frightens me.  The possibility that she might not even be alive anymore sweeps over me, but I push it from my mind.  She has to be alive.  The hope that she’ll come back to me someday is the only thing that’s kept me going for the last five years.

     But it has been five years.

     And I’m still waiting.

     I’m so engrossed with thinking about her that I barely hear my aide slink quietly up beside me.

     “Admiral Onasi, sir,” he says. “The Exile is here to see you.  I believe it’s important, sir.  I believe she has information on . . . on Revan’s whereabouts.”

     My eyes shoot open as my heart skips a beat.  Has this lone Jedi found the woman for whom I have searched these long years?  I can only hope.  I can barely contain my anticipation as I turn to my aide.

     “Send her in.”

     Turning toward the huge window on the bridge as my aide leaves, I close my eyes again and let the starlight wash over my face.  Could I be so close?  All these years I’ve searched for her, and now, in a few fleeting moments, I'll know where she is . . .

     . . . Finally.

     The bridge doors open behind me, and I turn, expecting fully to see the young Exile standing there.  But it isn’t she.  My eyes nearly pop out of my head, and I suddenly feel weak and strong all at once, because it’s . . .

     . . . It’s Revan.

     I can hardly believe my eyes.  After all this time, there she is, standing just ten feet away from me, looking no different than she did five years ago.  We stand there, staring at each other, smiles flickering on our faces, our breath caught in our chests, before the tears come.  Tears streaming down our faces, we race into each other’s arms.  I heave a silent sob of relief and joy as I hold her tightly against my chest.  Her hand grabs the back of my neck for support, her fingers gently combing through my hair, and I can tell she’s weeping.  Her tears are happy tears, though, and as they stain the front of my uniform, I know she’s crying away every day of the past five years.

     I try to slow the flow of teardrops down my face, but I can’t.  I've missed her so terribly.  I promised to protect her, but I wasn’t allowed to go with her when she left.  She told me to stay behind, and though I knew it would be painful, I agreed.  But now I have her again.  She’s mine at last, and I smile.

     Finally, she lifts her head from my shoulder and gazes into my eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.  I search her face for a moment, holding her face in my hands, tears glistening in my eyes.  Gently, I pull her closer to myself, and as I press my lips against hers, I can feel her melt as she wraps her arms around my neck and sighs contentedly.

     And there is nothing . . .

     . . . Nothing except the beating of our hearts in the stillness of the bridge.