You would think Jedi would have better things to do than gossip. I've been getting looks from fellow knights, from masters, from padawans, for the last few weeks. My name was cleared of all charges, and the black mark of having an ethics accusation leveled against me is fading. But people still watch me while I walk down the halls of the Temple.
I've tried to let go of my resentment. At times, the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his irrational antagonism makes my head ache from rage; there's been a night or two when I've found myself twisted up in my bedsheets, pulling myself out of angry, frustrated dreams. Kenobi could have destroyed everything -- my life, my career, not to mention the millions of people I'll help over the course of the rest of my time as a Jedi negotiator.
Negotiations. That's something else I don't know how to handle nowadays. Master Jinn had, until the committee's inquiry, considered me a brilliant diplomat and an extremely talented negotiator. Many times, his weekly seminar sessions were the high points of my weeks; I'd hoped it was only the beginning of time I might spend working with him, especially after he chose me for the negotiations between Caamas and Alderaan. And he was certainly interested in fucking me into the mattress that one night, though he hasn't attempted to approach me since.
But he's Kenobi's Master. It's fairly obvious what Kenobi thinks of me at this point, and I can't imagine that Kenobi's opinion holds no weight whatever with Master Jinn. If I were given to despair, I'd fear that my career as a diplomat and negotiator may be over practically before it began.
Fortunately, I'm given to no such thing. I've spent a little more time in the training salles lately, partly to work off frustration, partly because I'm finally being given the opportunity to apply for missions that take place on the Outer Rim and beyond. I've been working toward that for the last five years, and I hate that the timing now makes it seem as if I'm running from something, or as if I have something to hide.
It's not about what I have to hide; it's about what I have to offer. The Jedi are so few in number and the galaxy so large that it seems selfish to keep so many of us in one place, serving largely at the whim of the Senate. There's always a need for negotiators willing to work independently, far from the Temples on Coruscant and other more centrally-located planets. So many of the talented negotiators in the Order end up teaching, and therefore stranded on one planet or another; I find that my own particular talents lie far more in the direction of hands-on experiences. I'm better at doing than I am at teaching or explaining. I enjoy knowing I've actually done something, something active, that's saved millions of lives or helped planets come to agreements with one another.
So allowing the inquiry to change my plans for my career in general is unacceptable. People will think the timing is off, that I'm running from Coruscant because of the inquiry. Let them. I need to try to live my life as normally as possible; it's the only thing that will shut them up.
Normally, I'd have gone out to find someone to fuck long before now. I haven't. I want someone who can be trusted to keep his mouth shut, someone who won't turn on his heel after he discovers I can't be talked into staying on his godforsaken pasture of a planet and complain to his newest boy toy that I used him. Or worse. Ridiculous. It's not as if Bail was the first on-mission affair I've had, or the last, and no one else has ever accused me of any wrongdoing.
I've considered trying to send a message to Bail. The fact that he was not involved in the investigation seemed very telling to me. I can imagine him sitting back, tugging on the strings that control his pet padawan, and possibly even being mortified when Kenobi actually went to the comittee on his behalf. I wonder if this entire incident was simply a way of getting my attention again. I can't imagine that Kenobi has anything to offer that I didn't give Bail in spades on Alderaan. What a pathetic way of trying to turn my head back in his direction. As if I'd want anything to do with that prude after the way he turned clingy and desperate on me at the end of the mission.
A particularly long day sends me home mentally and physically drained; the morning and afternoon were spent in the library researching religious ceremonies on Ralerus, while the better part of the evening was spent on advanced lightsaber techniques. I slide into the chair in front of my terminal to check my communiques, nearly ready to drop my head onto my desk from exhaustion.
A few names I don't recognize are in the list of senders. I scan through them one at a time; the first two are masters I don't recognize, asking me to come and talk to their padawans about life as a negotiator. I agree to their requests, smiling slightly, glad that I'm not a complete pariah at the temple.
The third unfamiliar name is clearly a psuedonym, and the message is an invitation.
A very interesting invitation.
I answer that one, too, and head away from my terminal to take a shower.
-FIN-