Control The Uncontrollable // The Acolyte

97. Home

An hour later, back aboard the ship, you sat quietly in the back, seatbelt still fastened as your mind drifted into deeper space. Your fingertips rested lightly on your lap, tapping in a gentle rhythm. Lips parted, but no sound left them. It was like being acutely aware of your own existence—as if you were reading a book, only the words were your instincts. Every breath, every subtle sound echoing off the ship's interior felt both foreign and intimate. Odd... but peaceful.

Your mind was quiet. Empty, in a way that felt earned.

"You okay?" Bell's voice brought you back.

You turned, glancing at him over your shoulder. His expression was tired but open.

"I'm fine. Just processing," you said truthfully. There was no point in lying. It was natural to need time to adjust after something so vast, and Bell, ever intuitive, nodded in understanding and let his head fall back, clearly exhausted himself.

As his former Master, you couldn't help but wonder what visions the Force had shown him inside the cave. But it wasn't the right moment to ask. That could come later. You gave him a faint smile as he slowly turned his head back toward you.

"You left him behind," Bell said quietly, "because you feared he'd want knowledge you haven't reached yet... didn't you?"

Your gaze drifted to the cockpit. You could just make out the shape of Qimir's head, seated up front, eyes fixed forward. Lost in thought. Lost in the future. Too far gone to be listening.

Still, you smiled softly and nodded, returning your attention to Bell.

"Not so much fear," you said, folding your arms gently. "Qimir's on a good path. But there are certain qualities—ones many of us in the Jedi Order carry—that he simply never will."

Bell didn't respond right away. His brows drew together, uncertain. You looked away, out into the vast emptiness beyond the viewport.

"Temptation will always be a part of him. And maybe... maybe it should be," you added, your voice calm—neutral in the way it had always been when teaching him lessons.

"So... he'll never be like us?" Bell asked, almost to himself, casting a glance toward Qimir.

You could feel it—Qimir's awareness shifting. Even with his eyes forward, you knew he was listening. And you didn't mind.

You turned back to Bell and smiled gently. "Think about why you like being around him—or anyone, really," you said.

Bell blinked. "I suppose... it's not because they're like me."

"Exactly." Your voice was quiet, firm. "You don't value people because they're the same. You value them for who their differences."

Bell considered that. Slowly, he nodded.