Consequence of Oversight

Conflict Resolution

The ride home had been dark and silent. It seemed like even the Sand People were hiding from the suffocating feeling of darkness and malice that lingered in the arid Tatooine air.

Hazel's thoughts had been running at lightspeed, too much into her own head to realize her guardian's own distressed signature. However, by the end of their journey home, it had seemed as if both Force wielders had come to a discission. 

Ben quickly penned the Eopie and ushered his charge inside. Both stood awkwardly in their living space, unsure of how to break the tension filled silence. 

The girl finally decided that she would, heaving a deep breath to calm herself. "So, you've cut yourself off from the Force." 

The way his little one phrased it more as an accusation than a question made both of them grimace. He shifted his gaze from the girl to the ceiling, then back again. Sighing, the man raked a trembling hand through his auburn hair and walked towards the kitchen.

"Let me put some tea on first."

Hazel huffed in annoyance before following him and sitting herself at the table. Her gaze was shifted towards the table as she tuned out her guardian and focused inwards. She understood at some level, with...her help, why he shut himself out from the Force. Why he had abandoned it.

She understood, in a way she hadn't before her episodes, why he had shut himself off from the Force. It wasn't just fear or despair—it was self-preservation. The weight of loss could crush even the strongest hearts, and perhaps that disconnection had been the only way he could breathe again.

A part of her envied him. She sometimes wished she could sever her connection, cast the Force from her soul like a heavy cloak in a storm. When the darkness pressed in too tightly, when it whispered her name with chilling familiarity, it felt like the Light would never reach her again. The shadows curled around her like an endless night, and for those moments, she wondered if it might be easier to let go entirely.

But she knew better now.

The Light wasn't a fire waiting to warm her; it was a spark she had to kindle herself. Even in the depths of despair, she had learned to hold on—to seek out the smallest flicker and breathe life into it. Letting go might have seemed tempting, but it wasn't a solution. It wasn't healing. It was running.

She clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. No. The Force was a part of her. To reject it would be to reject herself. Hazel glanced up at Ben, her voice quiet but firm when she finally spoke.

"I understand, dad."

The man stopped in his tracks at the sound of her broken voice. He took in her tired posture, her devastated eyes, and the tears that started to form in them threatened to crush his soul.

"What do you understand, little one?"

Slowly, he approached the table with two mugs in hand. He offered one to her before tenderly sitting across from the broken little girl. 

She took the mug but didn't drink, instead wrapping her hands around it as if its warmth could steady her trembling fingers. Hazel's eyes didn't leave the table, but her voice was steady as she answered.

"I understand why you did it. Why you shut yourself off from the Force. You were afraid. You thought if you let it in—let yourself feel—you'd break. And if you broke, we'd all fall apart."

Ben didn't interrupt, though his hands tightened around his own mug. His silence was both a comfort and a weight.

"You thought it would protect us. That it would make us invisible. That if you just... disappeared, we'd be safe."