Moments Between
The council chamber on Velaris IV shimmered with glass and marble, its high ceiling painted with constellations. Governors and ministers circled one another like predators, voices dipped in honey but sharpened with hidden barbs.
Zen had braced himself for another long day of political sparring. He knew Tif was a fighter, not a negotiator. She thrived on battlefields, not debating tables. Yet when the governor sneered at the Republic's promises and pressed her with a question meant to humiliate, Tif stepped forward.
Her voice was clear, steady, untouched by the artifice around her.
Tif: "You asked what guarantee the Republic gives. The truth is, there are no guarantees in war. But there are choices. You can side with fear, or you can side with hope. The Republic stands for hope. That is why we fight. That is why I am here.
The chamber fell quiet. Her words rang too raw, too human to be dismissed as rhetoric. Even the governor looked caught off-guard.
Zen watched her, warmth stirring in his chest. She had not won with strategy, but with honesty. And in that honesty, Zen saw more than just his Padawan, he saw someone who believed, fiercely, in the light he sometimes feared he was losing.
A faint smile touched his lips, brief but unguarded. In that moment, he didn't just admire her, he felt the quiet certainty that he could trust her with more than missions or battles.
He could trust her with himself.
Ithona — Under the Stars
The war was over, for now. The night air on Ithona was crisp, carrying the scent of burned ozone from the battlefield. Republic soldiers laughed and traded stories around distant fires, their relief echoing into the sky.
Zen and Tif walked beyond the camp, where the stars sprawled unhindered across the heavens. Silence lingered between them, not empty, but full. Of unspoken words. Of emotions too carefully restrained.
Tif tilted her head toward him, breaking it with a teasing grin.
Tif: "You know, you brood more than any Jedi I've ever met. Do they make you practice it in the Temple?"
Zen exhaled a rare laugh, shaking his head. The sound surprised even him.
Zen (softly): "The galaxy feels lighter with you beside me."
The words left him before he could stop them, carrying more weight than he intended.
For a heartbeat, silence hung between them, broken only by the hum of distant generators and the quiet rustle of wind across the ruined Ithona fields.
Tif's lips curved into the smallest smile, soft, private, meant only for him. Her eyes reflected the starlight, steady and unflinching.
Zen felt his resolve waver. For so long he had lived within walls of discipline and restraint, but here, with her, those walls felt less like protection and more like a prison.
He didn't turn away this time. He stepped closer.
Their hands brushed, almost by accident, almost not. The touch lingered.
Zen: "Tif…"
She rose onto her toes before he could finish. Her lips met his, a kiss brief and tender, yet carrying the weight of everything unspoken between them.
When they parted, Zen's chest ached with both longing and fear. He closed his eyes, steadying himself.
Zen (whispering): "This cannot distract us."
Tif (smiling faintly): "Then let it strengthen us."
The warmth between them did not fade, not even when the night grew cold.
The Jedi Council — Plans and Warnings
The circular chamber of the Jedi Council glowed with filtered sunlight, its tall windows casting long lines of gold across the floor. Around the ring, masters sat in calm posture, though their voices carried the weight of war.
Holographic maps hovered in the center, clusters of contested systems, star routes choked by Separatist fleets, worlds marked in red.
Master Cilara's tone was clipped, precise.
Cilara: "Reports from the Corellian Run confirm Sith-backed mercenaries have entrenched themselves along three trade lanes. The Republic cannot afford more losses here. We must strike swiftly."
Another master added, voice measured but heavy with concern.
Tolar: "If these raids are left unchecked, food and medical shipments will never reach the Mid Rim. Entire colonies could starve."
Master Kaeden leaned forward, weathered hands folded.
Kaeden: "Then we cannot scatter our strength. The Sith thrive in chaos. We strike one blow, decisive and focused. That is how balance can still be preserved."
The discussion circled, weighing risks, until all eyes turned toward Zen. He stood at the chamber's center, Tif just behind him, silent as protocol demanded.
Cilara: "Master Zen. You know these sectors. You have fought along the Run. What would you propose?"
Zen's gaze lingered on the map. He spoke slowly, but with the clarity of someone who had walked those battlefields.
Zen: "The mercenary fleets are fractured—rivals in hunger. If we target their supply hubs rather than their strongholds, they will tear each other apart for survival. One clean strike, and the rest will unravel."
A ripple of approval hummed through the chamber.
Kaeden: "A bold plan, but sound."
Cilara: "Then it is settled. Zen, you and your Padawan will lead a task force to disrupt these hubs. The Republic fleet will follow your lead.
The session adjourned, robes stirring like whispers as the masters departed. Tif followed Zen toward the archway, but Master Kaeden's quiet call halted him.
Kaeden: "Zen. A word."
Tif bowed and withdrew, leaving the two alone in the vast silence.
Kaeden's voice softened once the others were gone.
Kaeden: "Your counsel today was wise. But wisdom in battle is not all I see."
Zen frowned slightly. "What do you mean, Master?"
The elder Jedi's eyes, kind but searching, rested on him with quiet weight.
Kaeden: "Your Padawan. Tiffany. The bond between you… it runs deep. Too deep."
Zen's breath caught, though his face remained carefully still.
Kaeden: "I do not question your loyalty to the Order. But the heart is not bound by decrees. Attachment is a subtle chain, Zen. And the Sith are masters at pulling such chains until they strangle."
For a long moment, the chamber was still. Zen lowered his gaze, torn between respect and the ache Kaeden's words pressed upon.
Zen: "I will not let my bond endanger the mission. Or her."
Kaeden placed a hand briefly on Zen's shoulder, the rare touch of a mentor who cared beyond formality.
Kaeden: "I do not doubt you. I only ask: when the time comes, will you be able to tell which path is duty… and which is love?"
Then he turned and left, leaving Zen in silence—with the question echoing louder than the Council's orders.
Closer Than Duty
Back aboard their ship, the quiet felt heavier than hyperspace silence. Zen lingered near the viewport while Tif finished her meditations. He had spoken to generals, outwitted warlords, even defied his own brother without wavering. But now, standing a few steps from her, his resolve faltered.
At last, she opened her eyes. Her gaze was steady, but softer than usual. She could feel his conflict before a word was spoken.
Tif (gently): "Master… you don't need to bury it. I sense it too."
Her voice struck deeper than any blade. For a heartbeat, he couldn't breathe. Zen's hand twitched at his side, aching to bridge the distance—yet bound by chains of oath and fear.
Zen (low, raw): "The Code was meant to guide me… yet with you, it becomes a cage. I've tried to deny it, tried to stay the dutiful teacher, the unshaken Knight. But the truth…"
He swallowed, eyes locked on hers.
"…the truth is that you are more to me than a Padawan. More than a comrade. You are the piece of me I did not know was missing."
Tif's breath caught, her composure flickering. But she did not rush to answer. Instead, she reached out slowly, deliberately, and placed her hand over his.
It was not passion. It was not defiance. It was something deeper, a quiet vow, a recognition of a bond that existed beyond titles, beyond duty, beyond the Code itself.
In the silence that followed, the galaxy itself seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them… closer than duty would ever allow.