Because the whole Zakuul thing IS going to end with them together in some way or another goddammit. And somehow, I doubt we’re going to get Jace having gone to look for her (though I’ll keep hoping), so maybe they reunite at the final battle itself.
5. A Reunion Kiss & 6. A Kiss of Relief (both because I can)
Satele stiffens as the fighting slowly comes to a stop. There are scores of soldiers fighting the Skytroopers, the Knights, bearing the insignias of long-time allies and rivals alike. Zakuulian rebels fighting alongside Imperial officers and…
And the familiar armor of Republic troops. And leading them has to be…
“Jace?” Her voice suddenly seems much too loud in the silence that has fallen across everyone but even so, nobody answers.
She frowns. Once upon a time, she had always been able to find him, if not by his height, then by their bond. In the ensuing years, it has grown more muted, less specific, from distance or time… or perhaps from her own futile attempts to ignore it, to sever it.
Now she concentrates, brings it to the forefront of her thoughts. She needs to find him, needs to know that he survived. Needs to know what the years have already done to him.
The thrum of energy is faint but true and she releases a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. He is not far, and alive.
She cuts a determined path across the field, side-stepping around the fallen, hardly noticing anything around her but the inexorable pull towards him. Nobody moves to stop her, though she also cannot be sure if anyone can even still recognize her, clad as she is in old robes, her hood pulled up to cover her head.
Part of her wonders if he will even recognize her.
She spots him from a distance. As always, he is not content to simply command, but is instead helmetless and in the middle of the fray. In some ways, it is almost comforting, or at least would be if it weren’t completely foolhardy, to know that some things will simply never change.
It isn’t until she draws closer that she sees the slight limp in his step, the dark red blood streaks across his face that are too much to be simply from his adversaries. Panic, long thought forgotten, tightens her chest and she darts forward, hood falling back in her haste.
She knows the moment he notices her; he freezes, his entire body stiffening in shock as she moves closer. His eyes dart across her face, drinking in her features with something akin to desperation and yearning and… and something that she has to be misunderstanding, that she doesn’t dare name.
“Satele,” and her name is impossibly perfect, even as hoarse and rough as his voice is. “You’re here.”
“I am.” She looks up at him, sees his eyes shining, overbright, as he slowly straightens. Her gaze focuses again on the blood and, in spite of herself, her voice wavers, stumbling over her own words. “I… Are you all right? Do you need healing or kolto or—?”
The warmth, the joy, in his quiet laugh steals her breath as he moves closer. “It’s fine. Nothing a little kolto couldn’t fix.” He’s still watching her with disbelief and wonder, in spite of his lighthearted tone, and he visibly swallows. “And you?”
The words fall out of her mouth without thinking, but he smiles, so familiar, so him that she physically aches. “I’m glad.”
And then his arms are around her and she is kissing him and nothing else matters.
O Lord of gods! Can the worlds be without origin, though they have bodies? Is their creation possible without a creator? Who else but God can initiate the creation of the worlds? Because they are fools they raise doubts about Your existence.