**Chapter 272**
**Bonds, Old and New**
The corridors of the Jedi Temple stretched long and quiet, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of war. Footsteps echoed softly against polished stone as Dagon and Ahsoka walked side by side, the events of the Council chamber still lingering between them.
For a while, neither spoke.
But the silence wasn't empty.
It was… processing.
Ahsoka finally exhaled.
"Zule Xiss," she said, breaking the quiet. "I remember her."
Dagon didn't slow, but his attention shifted.
"So do I."
Ahsoka glanced at him.
"That mission," she continued. "Ohma-D'un… you, her, and Master Glaive went alone."
A flicker of memory passed through the Force between them.
Cold.
Violent.
Close to death.
"You almost died," she added more quietly.
Dagon's expression didn't change—but the bond stirred faintly.
"Almost."
Ahsoka stopped walking.
He didn't.
She turned toward him.
"You say that like it's nothing."
Dagon paused a few steps ahead, then turned back slightly.
"It wasn't nothing."
A beat.
"But it was necessary."
Ahsoka frowned.
"That's not the same thing."
Dagon studied her for a moment, then walked back toward her.
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
The tension eased—slightly.
Ahsoka crossed her arms, though not defensively this time.
"I remember when you came back," she said. "You were different."
Dagon didn't deny it.
"That mission… changed things."
Ahsoka nodded slowly.
"And Zule," she added. "When I saw her after… I felt something."
She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"Like… a connection. Not strong, not like ours—but there. Like she was supposed to be with us."
Dagon tilted his head slightly.
"Supposed to be?"
"Yeah," Ahsoka said, a bit more certain now. "Like… part of something. Like the Force was nudging things."
Dagon considered that.
Then—
"It's possible," he admitted.
Ahsoka blinked.
"You're not going to argue with me?"
"I didn't say you were wrong," he replied calmly.
That threw her off more than if he had disagreed.
"But," he continued, "there is also a simpler explanation."
Ahsoka sighed slightly.
"Of course there is."
Dagon's tone remained even.
"If you use your body to protect a young girl… and in that same moment a strong warrior is bleeding while protecting you… connections form."
Ahsoka raised an eyebrow.
"That's your explanation?"
"It's a factor," he said. "Shared trauma, heightened emotion, proximity to death—it amplifies the Force's natural tendency to bind individuals together."
She tilted her head.
"…That actually makes sense."
He nodded slightly.
"But it is usually temporary."
Ahsoka frowned.
"Usually?"
Dagon's lips twitched faintly.
"Otherwise, every security officer or royal bodyguard in the galaxy would end up marrying the people they protect."
Ahsoka stared at him.
Then—
"That is *not* funny."
"Really?" he said, completely straight-faced.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"You're not."
"I am."
"You're not!"
A pause.
Then—
"Really," Dagon added, his tone just dry enough to be suspicious, "I seem to remember you getting injured several times… and me rescuing you too."
Ahsoka froze.
Then—
Her lekku twitched sharply as her face flushed.
"That is *completely different!*"
Dagon said nothing.
Which made it worse.
"You—!" she started, then stopped, clearly flustered.
In the next moment, without warning—
He moved.
Ahsoka barely had time to react before she was lifted off the ground in one smooth motion.
"Hey—!"
And then—
She was over his shoulder.
Just like that.
Her eyes widened.
"Dagon!"
He adjusted his grip slightly, completely unfazed, and resumed walking.
"You know," he said casually, "this position was once used by Jedi of old."
Ahsoka blinked.
"…What?"
"With Force bonds so strong," he continued, "they became one on every battlefield."
She stared down at him from her upside-down vantage point.
"…You're making that up."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I am not."
"…You are *definitely* making that up."
He didn't respond.
Which, again—
Made it worse.
Ahsoka huffed, but after a moment…
She relaxed slightly.
"…I kind of like it," she admitted quietly.
Dagon's presence in the Force shifted—just a fraction.
Not amusement.
Something softer.
"Noted."
—
**Scene 2: Meeting Zule**
The medical wing was quieter than the rest of the Temple.
More… fragile.
The air carried the faint scent of antiseptic and bacta, and the Force here felt different—heavier, weighed down by pain, recovery, and uncertainty.
Ahsoka slid off Dagon's shoulder as they approached the room.
"About time," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in it.
Dagon said nothing as the door slid open.
Inside—
A figure sat near the far side of the room.
Still.
Too still.
Ahsoka's eyes widened slightly.
"…She looks… different."
Zule turned her head slowly.
Her skin—
Green.
Muted.
Dull.
Not the vibrant red Ahsoka remembered.
"I thought she was red," Ahsoka said quietly.
Dagon stepped forward slightly.
"Fallen can change colors," he explained. "Depending on pheromones released."
Ahsoka blinked.
"…That's… new."
"Given her state," Dagon continued, his gaze steady on Zule, "she is depressed. And partially broken."
Zule's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I can hear you."
"Good," Dagon replied calmly.
That didn't help.
Her expression hardened—but only for a moment.
Then it cracked.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, her voice quieter now.
Ahsoka stepped forward.
"We came to see you."
Zule looked down.
Her hands—
No.
Not hands.
Mechanical.
Cold.
Unfamiliar.
"I can't do anything now," she said bitterly. "So what's the point?"
Ahsoka flinched slightly.
Dagon didn't.
Instead, he reached to his side—
And ignited his second lightsaber.
But this one—
Was different.
The blade glowed with a pure, steady light.
Calm.
Balanced.
Ahsoka's eyes widened slightly.
"That's—"
"A purified crystal," Dagon said.
He stepped closer to Zule.
She recoiled immediately.
"No—don't—!"
The moment the light touched her—
She reacted.
Anger surged.
"Get that away from me!" she snapped, her voice sharp, almost feral.
The Force around her spiked violently.
Pain.
Fear.
Rage.
Dagon didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
"It won't hurt you," he said.
"You don't know that!"
"I do."
Her breathing quickened.
Her mechanical fingers clenched.
"I can't fight," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't even hold a blade properly. I'm useless."
The anger drained—
Replaced by something worse.
Despair.
"I lost everything," she whispered. "My master… my hands… my purpose…"
Ahsoka stepped forward again.
"You didn't lose everything."
Zule laughed bitterly.
"Look at me."
Ahsoka did.
And didn't look away.
"I am," she said.
Silence.
Dagon lowered the blade slightly—but kept it active.
"The Force did not abandon you," he said.
Zule shook her head weakly.
"No… I did."
Dagon crouched slightly, bringing himself to her level.
"No," he said firmly. "You survived."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," he agreed.
A pause.
"But it is the beginning."
Zule's gaze flickered—just slightly.
A crack in the despair.
"You still feel it, don't you?" Dagon continued. "Even now."
She hesitated.
Then—
"…Yes."
"Then you are not broken."
Tears welled in her eyes—but didn't fall.
"I can't fight like this."
Dagon's expression didn't soften.
"Then don't."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Fight differently."
Ahsoka tilted her head slightly.
Zule stared at him.
"I don't know how."
Dagon deactivated the blade.
"Then you learn."
Silence filled the room again.
But this time—
It wasn't empty.
It wasn't hopeless.
It was uncertain.
Fragile.
But… alive.
And for the first time since they entered—
Zule looked up.
Not at her hands.
Not at the floor.
But at them.
At both of them.
And something—small, but real—
Shifted.