Private Fractured

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

The tray felt heavy, though not because of the food. Lorn navigated the temple corridors towards the Grandmasters office. He and Ala were both drowning in the Council's demands, yet they were drifting apart in the process. His own failures felt like a physical weight, matched only by the exhaustion he sensed radiating from her office. The Jedi were fractured, arguing over politics while the galaxy suffered, and Lorn didn't know how to bridge the gap between being her loyal guardian and the man who loved her enough to suggest a new plan of action.

He paused outside the heavy doors to center his breathing. His presence in the Force was a jagged mess of anxiety that he tried to smooth over before entering. It was a futile gesture, she knew him better than he knew himself. Lorn finally knocked and stepped inside. Ala was nearly buried behind flimsies and data pads, her dark curls the only part of her visible above the clutter.

"Have you eaten today?" He asked softly. He crossed the room and cleared a small space on the corner of her desk to set the tray down. He wanted to pull her away from the maps and reports, to ask her how she really was, but the lines of fatigue on her face stopped him. For now, he just rested a hand near hers, offering the only steady thing he had left to give.

 

[Ala Quin]

He lingered. Lorn always lingered. Like he did not stand out to her like a shining beacon across tumultuous seas. Even when he was as beleaguered as he seemed right now, Ala could sense his uprightness of spirit across the stars themselves. But still he lingered.

It was sweet really. Thinking that she would not know, wouldn't notice, simply because he paused for a moment to gather his wits. He was rather endearing in how he showed his heart for her even in these small, unnecessary ways.

When he entered, Ala popped her head up from behind the pile of busy work that was piled up on her desk. "Hey you!" She said, tired eyes sparkling with her characteristic joy.

Standing from her chair did not do much to further elevate her above the mess. Her feet had been dangling from the chair already, because of course she had not taken time to get a new desk and chair. She just crossed her legs and buried herself in her work.

"I have had two mini muffins and a boiled quail egg," she said, face scrunched up as she wracked her memory.

Her arms wrapped about him, pulling Lorn close. "You are just what I needed."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn felt his dark mood shift the moment she looked up. Her joy was a lantern in the gloom of the temple. When she wrapped her arms around him, he sank into the embrace, resting his chin atop her mess of curls. "Is that all?" he asked. He felt the tension leave his shoulders for a brief second. "You need to eat more so you can grow," he teased, nudging her about her height with a quiet chuckle.

He eventually pulled back and took a seat in the chair across from her. Even sitting, he was nearly level with her standing. Lorn looked at the scattered reports, his mind returning to the friction he had faced all morning. "What work have you buried yourself in?" he asked. "I have been dealing with the council as of late. It is exhausting. Sith and failures of the Order are at the forefront of every conversation."

The admission hung in the air between them. Lorn never imagined his life would involve the politics of leadership or the partial management of an Order. He was a man built for the front lines, not the council chamber.

He watched her for a moment, wondering if they were simply waiting for the next disaster to break them or if they could actually find a way through the bureaucracy together. He wanted to tell her his fears about their direction, but for now, he just watched her breathe.

 

[Ala Quin]

"If I grow any more, you won't be able to lean on me," Ala said, in a tone that was purposely saccharine, and then pinched him lightly on his back as punishment for his teasing.

With a spin, Ala plonked back into her chair, and then pushed the mountain of work aside with a grunt. She wanted to be able to see his eyes...and his beard...and his smile...and his dimples..."Oh this stuff? Just a bunch of reports from the Outbound Flight. It really is quite curious...they have come across all sorts of wonderful phenomena...nothing that directly links back to the force-being claiming to be Shiraya...yet...but I feel like it is getting close."

She tried to brush away the comment about failures of the Order. But it stuck in her heart like an ice pick. He didn't mean to hurt her. But it hurt nonetheless.

Insecurity in the roll was probably her greatest foe. A darker demon than any behind the blackwall. He knew that. But he also believed in her. So his comments were not taken as an attack. Ala cleared her throat, and averted her eyes nonetheless.

"Is it inherited angst from the New Jedi Order or is it actually stuff that is due to our mismanagement? Honest, I am not sure how long I can keep saying, We'll get there when it comes to the Blackwall and the Covenant."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn watched skeptically as Ala shoved her reports into a disorganized heap. He hadn't kept up with the Outbound project. Research and deep-space exploration held little appeal for a man who preferred the feel of solid ground and a clear mission. He was content to leave the grand mysteries to the scholars and explorers while he focused on the immediate threats.

However, seeing her wince at his mention of the Order's failures made him regret his bluntness. He lacked the tact to navigate her insecurities and his own frustrations without causing friction.

"Things are not as simple as they once were," Lorn admitted. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "They expect us to fix the galaxy in a heartbeat. I am not sure how you are staying sane. I certainly am not." He let his own vulnerabilities surface, the battle-hardened Guardian momentarily replaced by a man drowning in expectations. Defending Naboo and holding a handful of systems had been a tangible task. This current political mire felt impossible to touch.

He reached out to steady his hand against the desk. The weight of his position was a constant pressure, but the fear of letting her down was worse. "I feel as if I am failing you," he said. He looked at her, searching for a sign that he wasn't the only one feeling the walls close in. He didn't want to be another burden she had to carry, yet he didn't know how to lead in a way that lightened her load.

 

[Ala Quin]

For just the faintest of moments, Ala stared across the desk at her beloved Lorn. And then, with a flick of her hands, all the mess of notes and pads and brick-a-brac flew left and right and scattered against the floor, some hitting the walls of her office. With a quick swivel, Ala vaulted the desk and plonked down upon Lorn's lap.

His sleeves were promptly and persistently tugged until his arms were wrapped around her. At which point, she snuggled into him.

"You are everything you need to be for me, Lorn," she said. The Force shifted around her, light...airy...full of calming currents of energy that she pulled from around the temple, and brought into an eddy of calm around them both.

Fingers entwined with his beard, playing as she did, just because she found comfort in the closeness.

"What is troubling you, my love?"

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Gravity seemed to release its hold on the room as Lorn settled into her comfort. Stubbornness was his natural shield, and he initially resisted her attempts to pull him from his own head with a series of non-committal hums. Resistance was futile against Ala. Her presence was an airy current that smoothed the jagged edges of his mind. He pulled her closer, the familiar scent of her hair grounding him.

"I am not meant for these politics, let alone teaching," he confessed. His voice was thick with the weight of his own perceived uselessness. "I'm not sure I provide anything of worth beyond how to survive. My Padawan is wayward, and the Council falls into disarray the moment I step in for you." These were the thoughts that kept him awake in the quiet hours, the slow realization that his skills with a blade did little to mend a fractured Order.

The dam finally broke, letting years of suppressed grief spill into the open. "I miss who I was when I was younger. I miss that life and those people." He hadn't intended to lay his ghosts bare, but the words fell out of him in a weary rush. He felt fractured, a man built for a world that no longer existed, trying to lead a people he didn't understand. A long, heavy sigh escaped him as he buried his face against her shoulder, finally admitting how thin his spirit had been stretched.

 

[Ala Quin]

He didn't mean what she could have thought he meant. Instead of spiralling into insecurity, and putting aside that he was meaning he longed for the life before her, Ala simply closed her eyes and breathed him in. He no longer smelled of the outdoors as he once did. No longer had the rugged, musky scent of a man that worked hard all day. Instead, he smelt good. Ala didn't like it.

That one difference helped her understand.

"You were never voted to be my assistant, Lorn," she whispered softly, "and I never asked it of you. Just speak the word, and I will assign you to be warden of Mirater...you could take Bastila with you...it might be good for her to be...out of circulation for a while."

His heart beat was steady and strong beneath her palm. Gentle ebbs of Force calm washed over her, pushing through her palm and into his chest. Gentle. Loving. And altogether soothing. Ala hummed gently as she tried to bring him the sort of relief of soul she craved for him.

"If you wanted me too...I would step down...we could leave Naboo," she whispered. A sincere offer, truthfully, but one she knew he would never accept. His sense of duty and fulfilling others expectations was far too intense. "We could make a life on Mirater, together? You have been promising to take me...we...could...start...a family...stop letting the galaxy rest on our shoulders."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Escaping to Mirater would be so much easier. Imagining Bastila's reaction brought a faint twitch to his lips. She would likely hate the isolation, but the change would benefit them both. Going back to the simplicity of his youth was what his soul craved most. Memories of simpler times, working toward a shared goal without the burden of galactic politics, haunted his waking hours.

Peace never sat well within his bones. Waiting for the next tragedy to drop was a habit he could not break. Craving a past he could never bring back hurt far worse than any blaster wound he had taken. Beneath this storm of thoughts, the calming current of Ala's presence washed over him. Easing into the warmth of her embrace, he finally managed to relax.

"No, no, they need you," he said, the truth of the words weighing on him. The Order would collapse without her leadership.

Then, the inevitable question of starting a family slipped into the space between them. Pushing the topic aside for years had become second nature. Raising a child felt impossible for a man who could barely manage his own life. Isla had been lucky enough to avoid his guidance during her vulnerable, formative years. Supervising a fiercely independent teenager was one thing, and raising an actual child was a terrifying prospect.

"I don't... think I am meant to be a good father, Ala," he whispered. "I don't know how. If I didn't have you, where would Isla be at this point?"

 

[Ala Quin]

His words caused the first ripple in her determined calm and reassurance through the Force. Her reoccurring vision had shown her protecting a child, one she knew, in her heart of hearts, was her child. And yet, the man she loved more than her own life...was hesitant to commit to that path.

In that moment, reassuring him that he would, which she strongly believed, make a great father despite how matters with Isla transpired, seemed oddly self-serving. And so, she buried her wound deep down, beyond where he could sense it. Instead, trusting the Force to guide them both.

"I love you. And us. Whatever form the us takes," she whispered, tugging at the golden trim of his tunic in a manner that was half lazy, half curious.

"Isla was always going to forge her own path. You knew this long before I did. She is strong willed. And doesn't take no for an answer," she said, before looking up at him with not mischief, but an almost teary-eyed adoration, "like someone else I know."

The moment passed with a blink, and Ala went back to playing with the folds in his tunic.

"What do you want to do, Lorn?" She hummed, "what would bring back the joy?"

Even as the question left her lips, she felt another quiver in her soul. The only thing really, truly, stopping him from having his old life back on Mirater...was his devotion to her.

Ala sniffed, gently. Nerves beginning to fray.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

A soft grunt escaped Lorn as Ala pointed out the stubborn reflection of himself in Isla. She was right. Isla was just a younger version of himself.

He hated the uncertainty that clouded his future, and the idea of fatherhood felt like a gamble he wasn't prepared to take. Bringing a child into a galaxy that demanded they live on the front lines seemed cruel. His survival was a streak of luck he expected to end eventually. He had grown up without a father, and the thought of leaving a child with that same void was a burden he refused to impose on Ala.

Haunting memories of his youth pulled at his focus as she asked what he truly wanted. He wanted to tell her he'd give anything to be young again, surrounded by the friends who had long since become ghosts. Part of him felt he was living on borrowed time, a survivor who should have followed his comrades into the afterlife years ago. He felt like a man drifting through a life meant for someone better, someone who could appreciate the peace he found so suffocating.

"I don't know," Lorn finally whispered. The weight of his own emptiness was a heavy thing to offer her. "I am sorry I cannot give you anything more."

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze as the truth of his exhaustion settled over them. The walls of the temple felt like they were closing in, trapping him in a role that didn't fit. "Maybe I just need time away," he suggested.

 

[Ala Quin]

Fear choked Ala for less than a heartbeat, but in the Force, it was a thunderclap. To Lorn, her heart was usually an open book. Now, it was a frantic rhythm he couldn't miss. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him, terrified that if she loosened her grip even a fraction, he would simply dissipate into the shadows of the Temple.

She tried to shove the panic down, burying it under layers of Jedi discipline. He needed her to be his rock, not his storm. But the math of their life was becoming impossible to ignore. She loved the Order, but Lorn was the sun she orbited. And she was starting to realise that the gravity of her love was what was keeping him trapped in a place that was grinding his soul to dust.

The "Sanctuary" was his cage. Even if he left for a time, the return would only restart the clock on his despair. The spiral was inevitable because the reason he stayed, the reason he suffered through the suffocating peace, was her.

Her breath hitched, a jagged sound in the quiet of the room. She recoiled from the realisation, her instinct to cling to him turning "furious," but the tighter she held on, the more it felt like an act of cruelty. To keep him here was to watch him die slowly.

The first sob broke through, unbidden and pathetic. She blinked against the heat of her tears, her voice coming out in a fractured whisper that betrayed every word she spoke.

"You...you don't have to stay because of me," she lied, the words tasting like ash. "I can let you go, Lorn. If you need to go...I can let you go."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Anxiety radiated from Ala like a physical heat, a frantic pulsing in the Force that matched the way she clung to his tunic. Lorn felt her desperation through every fiber of his being. He knew exactly what his absence would cost her, yet seeing her crumble only reinforced the jagged truth of their situation. He wanted to be the man who could sit beside her in quiet council and at home, the steady support she deserved, but that wasn't the man he was. Staying within the sanctuary of the Temple was a slow, suffocating death. His spirit demanded the cold clarity of the unknown and the weight of a hilt in his hand.

"I need to go," Lorn whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of her grief. He tried to look away, but the Force tethered them too tightly for him to truly escape the sight of her tears. To remain here was to let his soul turn to ash for the sake of a comfort he no longer understood.

He was the Sword of the Order, built for the strike and the parry, not for the stagnant air of bureaucracy. To fulfill that role, he had to sever the domestic peace they had spent years trying to build.

Tears finally spilled over as she offered to let him go, a lie so transparent it hurt more than a physical blow. Lorn reached up, his calloused thumbs brushing the moisture from her cheeks, though his touch felt clumsy and undeserved. He was choosing the galaxy over the woman who was his entire world, a betrayal he couldn't justify even as he felt the necessity of it. The silence of the room felt like a tomb, housing the ghost of the life they had nearly started.

"I will fulfill my duties to the Council," he promised, though the words felt hollow in the face of her heartbreak. "But I have to go for now. I can't breathe here, Ala." The admission was a jagged thing, cutting through the last of his defenses. He pulled her into one last, crushing embrace, memorizing the scent of her hair and the rhythm of her heart before the inevitable distance claimed them both. He didn't know if he was seeking a mission or simply running until he found a place where he didn't feel like a stranger in his own skin.

 

[Ala Quin]

Though closed, her eyes moved rapidly, trying to make sense of her unravelling life. She loved him. She had chosen him. And the the Force and chosen her to lead. And that was leading him to leave. Why would the Force be so cruel?

The spoke of the Will, as if the Force were personal, cognisant and sentient. But it was not really a Will, but more the natural flow of things. And the natural flow of things was to take people from Ala, over, and over, and over again. First, Zakk, her first love, just a cute crush they had said. But he had been dead for centuries now, have lived a full and beautiful life without her. Then, Kaila, the one that was never able to be, and only Ala in her foolishness thought it possible for half a breath. Then, the Will had taken Caltin, her adopted family...confidant...and truly the closest to a father she had ever known. And now the non-sentient Will saw fit to take Lorn from her.

Why?

Why?

Her knuckles had turned white from clinging to his shirt. His words hung in the air like a sword that was poised to take her head, but truly only her heart.

"You are leaving the Council." She whispered, letting that truth settle in first. She understood why. It made sense. He was a warrior. Not a politician. Not a sage. But he was also her rock.

"You are leaving Naboo." She did not cry. Not now. The reality was setting in. And with it, she released his shirt, and moved to stand...though slowly...and with fingers that trailed down his arm before lingering at the tips of his fingers. But she refused to not know the full truth of his intentions.

"Are you leaving me, too?" She said, face turned away, eyes closed, ringlets framing a face that was ready to erupt with tears...all while her finger tips...lingered on his.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn stood as she turned away, the sudden lack of her warmth leaving him feeling exposed. He had come seeking a way to fix the fracture between them, but the answers only drove the wedge deeper. She deserved a partner who was present, someone who shared her dreams of a family and a future. Instead, she had a man who felt like a ghost haunting his own life.

"Isla is fully integrated into the Order now," Lorn began, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. He focused on the logistics, the only ground that felt safe. "She has a support system here. She has you." It was a cold comfort to offer, yet it was the only reality he could manage.

The Council would survive his absence; new voices were already rising to drown out the old. He and Vizion were relics of a different era, and stepping aside felt like a mercy to the institution he no longer understood. "I will remote in to Council meetings when necessary," he added, though the promise felt like a thin veil over the truth.

He couldn't face the finality of her question. To say he was leaving her was to admit he was destroying the only good thing he had left. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his own chest, a defensive posture. He knew she would likely blame herself, but the failure was entirely his. He was the one who couldn't find peace in the quiet. He was the one who felt more at home in the middle of a slaughter than in her embrace.

"I don't know when or if I will return." The admission fell like a stone into a well. He couldn't bring himself to say the words she feared, even though his actions spoke them for him. He was a man who lived as if the next tragedy were inevitable, and he realized with a bitter clarity that he was the architect of this one.

"I'm sorry," Lorn whispered. It was a pathetic offering for the heart he was breaking.

 

[Ala Quin]

"Why are you doing this to me?" She said, filter dropping for just a moment to reveal the brokenness that he had only just begun to heal. It had taken everything she had to open her heart again, only for the one she entrusted it to...to not give her the honour of a conclusive answer.

"This is not how you treat someone you love," she said in a whisper, but her mind had turned to someone else, rather than herself. With her backed turned, thinking about Isla, is when he heart broke into many tiny pieces. "You are doing it again, Lorn...running away from your responsibilities...running away from her."

And leaving Ala, the woman he claimed to love, to pick up the pieces of his broken hearted daughter.

Shoulders lumping, and hands pressing on her desk for stability. "Did you just love me long enough to find someone to take care of her?" She did not mean to be spiteful, but it all hurt so much. He was being a fool, and not the man that she thought him to be...perhaps he never had been. Perhaps she was the fool.

"There are other ways of getting what you need. Other options besides running away," she said between heavy, weighted breaths, "but your first and only recourse is abandoning the women that love you. Because..."

She bit her lip. The words of a scorned lover could be cruel. And Ala had already stepped further into cruel than she liked, for her own sake if not for his.

"You should leave the council. You should build a life away from Naboo. But you should not abandon your daughter..." She said, leaving herself out of the equation, "...not again."

Pushing tears away, pushing the grief and loss to the side, Ala found the undying love for Isla that had been born at their first meeting, and held onto that for stability, as she turned to face her...no...not hers...just Lorn.

"We could be family, Lorn. But if you do this..."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ala Quin​

Accusations of running struck him with the force of a physical blow. Lorn didn't deny them. He watched Ala's shoulders slump as she braced herself against the desk, her grief filling the room until the air felt too thick to breathe. He loved her, and he loved Isla, but that love felt like a weight he wasn't strong enough to carry anymore. He was convinced that staying would only poison their lives, dragging them into the hollow, miserable existence he led every day. In his mind, leaving was the only way to save them from himself.

"I understand," Lorn said softly. The simple response felt inadequate against the wreckage of her heart. He took her hurt because he knew he deserved it. He had spent his life facing monsters and armies, yet he found himself paralyzed by the sight of her tears. He was a man who knew how to die for a cause, but he had no idea how to live for a person. Every word she spoke about his daughter stung with the truth of his failures. He was a guardian who couldn't protect his own family from his need to disappear.

Panic began to rise, a cold, sharp clawing in his chest. The sanctuary had become a cage, and every second he spent under her gaze made the bars feel tighter. He was a coward in the robes of a hero, unable to offer the conclusive answer she begged for. He believed he was sparing them further torment, a lie he told himself to justify the escape. He didn't know how to explain that he was already gone in every way that mattered.

Lorn backed toward the door, his movements stiff and mechanical. The bond between them in the Force was a fraying cord, snapping one strand at a time as he increased the distance. He felt her heartbreak as if it were his own, a dull ache that he intended to carry into the isolation of the galaxy. He couldn't face the man she wanted him to be, and he couldn't stay to watch her realize he never would be. Without another word, he stepped into the corridor, leaving the door open behind him.

 

[Ala Quin]

There was a moment of hesitation, born of hope, that Lorn would see the light and walk back through the door, into her arms. The story wrote itself. She would leave the role that had been foisted upon her. She would serve at his side, love and support him...train Isla. She was alright with the story just being that. No marriage. No children. She only needed the story that was their love. If that is all he could give.

But he didn't.

Ala stepped over to the door controls, and closed the door between her and Lorn.

| Lorn Reingard |​