I knock at the door and hear the usual brief scuffle as she grabs her mask and puts it on. The door opens and I go in.

I close the door after me and look around, wondering once again if she even knows the meaning of 'untidy'. It looks like she was just getting ready for bed; her boots are lying by the bed and her feet are bare. I resist the urge to examine the skin on them for a sign of how far she's gone.

"We need to talk," I say. She nods and gestures to a chair, but I ignore it and sit down next to her on the bed. She stiffens as I pull her into a hug.

I am… not quite lying. I do want to talk to her, but I haven't been this close to her for so long. I want to spend some time with her before the argument starts.

I rub her head through the hood, though my fingers itch to take it down. I realise suddenly that I can't remember the last time I saw her face, and cold terror grips me as I wonder what she looks like under there now. I will probably never know.

She is beginning to relax; I can feel it, even through the layers of clothing she is encased in. She looks up at me. If I look hard enough, I can see her eyes through the mask – but not their colour. This is infuriating.

Suddenly I can't stand it any longer. I reach for the mask, as quickly and gently as I can, but she gets there first. Her hand is surprisingly gentle as it pulls mine away. I do not resist.

"How am I meant to kiss you if I can't reach your mouth?" I ask, forcing a light tone into my voice. She just shakes her head. It would be so easy to 'accidentally' knock the hood aside, I think – at least then I would be able to see some of her.

"You said you wanted to talk?" She asks, holding my hand down in her lap. This close, I can hear her real voice under the distorter in the mask – but, again, not enough to remind me what it actually sounds like.

I manage a smile. "Do you realise we haven't done this since Tatooine?" I am evading, and she knows it.

"Yes," she says simply, beginning to pull away. "But that's not what you came for."

I sigh. Deep down, I know this will be like all the other times. I am tired, and I'm sure she is too. Someone tried to assassinate her again last night; she didn't get much sleep.

"It's getting late," I mumble, standing up. "It wasn't anything urgent. I'll tell you in the morning."

I have almost reached the door when she calls to me. "Malak."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going back," she says simply, and activates the door from her desk.

The door closes behind me. The only person around is that blasted droid, so I don't feel too bad about burying my face in my hands.

It's not so hard. I know all the arguments I want to use. I know exactly what to say to hurt her, make her realise she's wrong. By now, so many failed attempts on, I have a mental checklist so meticulously planned that even one of Revan's agendas would look disorderly in comparison.

Everything would be fine, I reflect ruefully, if I could talk to her through a door. Or a wall. Anything to stop me from being in the room with her. Because once I'm in there, I fall to pieces. It would hurt her so much to realise what she's done… I can't do that to her.

Then there's the other problem. It's so easy to think of her as a human when she's in your mind. But that mask destroys any hope I have of connecting with her. I suppose that's why she wears it.

The droid is giving me a nasty look. It doesn't like loiterers; I should go before it decides to blast me. As I turn and walk away, I shut my eyes and try to call up a mental image of Revan. It is futile, and I know it.

Because I have long since forgotten what she looks like.