The mist upon the hill

by Abagael

It starts with a fog – in my mind and in the space around my little ship." - Based on the Edgar Allan Poe poem 'Spirits of the Dead.' Characters include Tahiri, Anakin, Jacen/Caedus, Ben, et al. An epic vignette.

The mist upon the hill – inspired by the poem Spirits of the Dead by Edgar Allan Poe.

Lord Caedus has been estranged from his former self for so long that most no longer associate the Sith with his Jedi counterpart of old. Yet as his hand grips mine, icy cold and weak in the throes of death, Jacen Solo is all I can see.

---

Be silent in that solitude,

Which is not loneliness- for then

The spirits of the dead, who stood

In life before thee, are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee; be still.

---

It starts with a fog – in my mind and in the space around my little ship.

A star has exploded some light years away, near a galaxy I've never visited, without a consequence, without even being noticed. The particles of dust, once fiery as its body withered and died, are now harmless specks of near-nothingness: a shadow of a great and vibrant object who lived a life of solitude and died alone.

I will die alone.

It is written in the stars, as this star's death was also likewise written.

I am alone, and so I shall leave this existence in the same way.

Alone.

A solitary thing is always the hardest to hold, to keep safe, to keep under the sway of someone wiser, stronger, more fanatical. That is why he could no longer hold onto me. I am a solitary being; I need wide open space to survive, or else I will wither and die like the star.

Like him.

Ben is calling to me.

I feel him reaching out through the fog. My mind is in disarray; confused, scared, ultimately lonely.

I push him away.

I know what he wants, and I'm not yet ready to give it: willingly.

My little ship glides through the fog of the dead star, silent. The tiny particles of former life stick to the transparent canopy, sparkling vividly for a heartbeat, a mere second in time, before the last of their life force drains out of them and they pass on in their journey towards the light.

Ben presses harder.

I ignore him, letting my mind fill up with the haze of the fog. I drink in all of the confusion and the fear and the isolation of this mess I've made. It is my mess – I'm solely to blame, no one else. Not even him. But I won't be cleaning it up.

I'm through with it all: through with the darkness and the cloying, suffocating reality of who I have become; through with death and still more death; through with him.

This is why I'm running now.

This is why I am a dying star, alone in a universe that has no place for me; that's never had a place for me.

I let the fog envelope me, and press on into the bleakness ahead.

---

Ben finds me on Tatooine.

A likely place to hide. I should have known better.

The sand crunches beneath his combat boots as he draws near to me. It is hot and gritty – all the things I never liked about this place to begin with; all the things I never missed, nor thought I would ever see again.

This is why you should never burn any bridges.

He stops short of my seat outside one of the tap caf's on the northern side of the planet. I'm eyeing off an old speeder parked out front: faded magenta with a dash of electric yellow – my style.

Hey, he says, like I didn't just up and leave one of the most tyrannical leaders the galaxy has ever seen.

I say hey back, shield my eyes from the force of the sun. It's high in the sky today, scorching tracks across the sea of dunes, my skin. I feel the hairs on my arms start to fall away in the heat, even though a cloth of polycotton shields them.

His eyes say he needs me. I don't need to pick his brains to get that.

He says it, anyway.

We need you, he reiterates, emphasis on the we.

I don't believe him. Nobody needs me – not Ben, not his father, not the family I attempted to assassinate – not even the man I left behind, the one who stole my innocence and threw away the key to everything that was once good and pure about me.

Ben sits opposite me, picking at the cuff on his Jedi cloak. Even after all he's done for the beast I left in my jet stream, he's still wearing that thing; he treasures it as if it's his last possession.

I think it was his mother's.

Things have changed, Ben tells me.

I hear in his voice that he's telling the truth, though I don't want to acknowledge this, not now; not now I've decided on a life of solitude, to die alone like a lost star in a sea of all-encompassing black.

How, I find myself asking – I stop the word falling from my lips into the open air.

I can't explain, he says, you have to see it for yourself.

Curiosity has piqued in me. I want to say yes, I do.

Instead, I say no.

Ben leaves me. He knows when not to push the boundaries with me. We've been close for years now; though placing the label of friend on either one of our heads would be stretching things quite emphatically in the wrong direction.

He'll be back. I know him too well to know that he'll be back.

And he is. Two days later, we're playing the same game. I'm inside this time, blonde head bent over a warm mug of something bitter and decidedly bad for my health. All the better, I say.

Ben is wearing the cloak again. It looks tawdry and out of place alongside the present company, and if a heavy brown cloak doesn't scream Jedi, I don't know what does.

I'm not going away, Ben remarks after too many mugs of the bad stuff.

He's not lying. I know this.

You don't need me, I try to tell him. No one does.

I can't explain here, he says – whispering it, eyes darting nervously around the bar – it's not safe.

Trust me, he adds. Please.

I do trust him. I wouldn't have let him speak so long – and in the open, no less, all geared up like a Jedi Knight as he is – if I didn't.

We're in the air within the hour.

---

When we're safely floating through the nothingness of space, Ben tells me what he couldn't say planet side. I'm left reeling, breathless, on the verge of exploding – a burnt-out star.

He's back, Ben says, I don't know how, but he's back.

I'm hyperventilating.

Ben is asking me to calm down, telling me to breathe. He's using the Force to set my mind at ease, but I push him away more easily than I ever have before, like he's nothing, a tiny speck of thing, a parasite that doesn't even warrant a response.

I gulp in air like a greedy thing.

This is all I've ever wanted, all I've ever wished for – the very reason I followed that monster in the first place, allowed him to control me so he could show me the one thing my heart had always, and will always, forevermore, desire.

And now he's back, just like that, and Ben says it like it's nothing.

But this is everything to me.

For how long? I ask.

My voice trembles as I speak, lips wobbling of their own accord. I have never been so wholly terrified – I should be rejoicing, yet I'm quavering in my seat, the crash pads expanding and retracting as my chest heaves.

Ben hesitates. He's thinking of lying, but doesn't.

A while, he says ruefully.

It's okay, I tell him, it's fine.

It's to be expected. I joined with their rogue son; I tried to kill them. Why should they want to let me know that he's back? I've been estranged from their family, their way of life, for just as long as that beast has – maybe longer, if you count the distance I've put between everyone who wasn't him since that mission, that day.

It's not okay, Ben disagrees.

They're going to hate you for telling me, I comment.

They'll get over it, he says, certainty evident in his tone.

Besides, he adds, we need you for what we plan to do.

Do?

I don't understand. And then it clicks with the force of a thousand rancors: Ben didn't bring me here, on his ship, flying me to Force-knows where, because Anakin Solo had somehow managed to come back from the dead.

We need you, he'd said.

I snort, bark out a mirthless laugh.

You left him, he states, as if it explains everything.

Yeah, I agree, but not so I could take the fight to his doorstep.

And why not? Ben argues. You were just gonna hide out, stick your head in the sand, until someone else fixed the problem?

I'm finished, I explain. I'm done.

No, you're not done, Ben says, not even close.

I sit in quiet defiance until a ship looms in the viewport. It's an old Corellian corvette; pretty beat up, from what I can see. The shell is mottled in browns and greys; scorch marks litter the hull, little explosions reminiscent of the death of a shining star.

I'm suddenly missing the burning sands of Tatooine.

Don't be such a baby, scolds Ben, reading my mind.

I poke my tongue at him. Probably not the best response, but I'm not as smooth as I used to be. That's what happens when you shatter into a million pieces, too tiny to ever be put back together again: you lose the parts of yourself that you cherished the most.

Anakin is on that ship. I feel him, deep inside me, a lost spark that had retreated to the dark recesses of my mind upon his death, resurfacing anew, as if he's been gone days, not years.

I doubt he'll recognise my Force signature. It's changed so much – I've changed so much – since he up and left me that I barely even recognise myself anymore.

It's Jaina's voice that crackles through the cockpit.

What in the Force do you think you're doing, Skywalker? she hisses down the line.

You need her, is all he says.

She's his, Jaina argues, you know that.

I trust her, Ben says adamantly.

I don't, she says.

I pull at the crash padding around my waist. I need air, I need space – something!

Ben notices my distress pretty quick. He puts a hand on my arm, stilling me.

Just open the docking bay, he commands of his cousin.

Jaina severs the connection with a grumble and a blast of static.

I told you, I murmur.

I feel ill. I'm sure my face is several shades paler than it was a moment ago, slightly green around the edges.

Have a little faith, it's gonna to be ok, Ben assures me.

---

I'm stalking someone. I don't know who.

The person – whoever it is – is alone, obscured in shadow; but they're wearing a Jedi robe, I can tell that much.

This is a mission for my Master. I wouldn't be out here, as intent on the kill as I am, if it wasn't.

The ground trembles beneath my feet.

My prey knows I'm here.

We're running.

I dash through harsh underbrush, spiky tendrils catching on my clothes and my skin. The light is dimmest here, filtered through a dense canopy of emerald leaves. It sends flashes of gold across the scene, blinds me momentarily; though not enough for my prey to evade me completely.

I see them a little ways ahead of me, sprinting flat out over the uneven land. The branches whip by as I pursue, leaves snapping hard against my cheeks, leaving lines of scarlet in their wake.

Their mind lights up familiar in the Force. It's a presence I've not felt in a long time, one I'd thought was lost to the ashes of the barren world I left it on. I know this person I'm chasing, though I can't pinpoint them in my mind; it's been too long.

We enter a clearing, so bright it's on fire.

The grass is waist high and swaying, rich and yellow, in the faint breeze. I glimpse a sliver of brown in front of me. I'm getting closer. My lungs want to give out, but I won't let them. I open myself more fully to the Force, let its dark energies sweep over me, soothing my aches, the strain of the pursuit.

I tackle them soon after, push them face down into the dirt. The Jedi cloak comes away easily in my hands. I toss it to the side, watch as it falls, unwanted, into the depths of the swinging grass.

There's blonde hair underneath the cloak.

The familiar presence buzzes in my mind; my mouth turns dry, bitter and cakey as if I've just swallowed ash.

It's not possible.

It can't be possible.

I flip her over, uneasy sickness sweeping over me.

The face of my younger self stares up at me, green eyes open wide and filled with fearful tears. Her pale hair is matted on the ends, filled with miscellaneous twigs and clumps of dried leaves from our trip through the forest.

I flick my lightsaber on instinctively. The red blade blazes to life in my tight grasp, hums ominously over the fragile body pinned under mine.

I'm supposed to kill her.

The Force is screaming at me to do it, to plunge the fiery sword through her chest.

The last of my kind, I hear myself murmur.

My younger self starts to cry.

---

I blink awake, wiping the tears from my eyes.

---

That was the moment, right then, when I knew I had to get out.

So I did.

I left, without a word to my Master or anyone else.

And then the star died.

---

The main hanger is surprisingly clean, despite the corvette's battered exterior.

It's also, predictably, empty.

Ben descends the down ramp first. I follow meekly behind, my head a mass of white noise as I struggle to process just where I am – that I'm actually here; that he's really alive; that I'll see him.

Soon.

Master Skywalker meets his son at the hanger's entrance. He doesn't shoot a glare at me like I expected, nor does he tell me I shouldn't be here or ignite his saber and challenge me to a duel. He also doesn't offer me a smile, though, or any words of welcome, just a blank expression on an equally emotionally-devoid face. He pats his son on the back, once, and very lightly, barely touching him at all.

Ben throws his father a cocky grin, one edge of his mouth rising higher than the other, giving off an air of arrogance. It's a challenge: a dare thrown at his father's feet, challenging the Jedi Master to say something – anything – about me being here.

His smile becomes yet more conceited when the elder Skywalker says nothing.

We've crossed the threshold when the Jedi Master finally speaks.

Your aunt has asked, he begins – Ben cuts him off with a sharp hand.

No, he says sternly, no.

Master Skywalker shoots me a look that is equal parts troubled and despondent.

Ben, he groans.

No, dad, Ben snaps, no!

It's ok, I interject, I'll just stay here.

Tahiri, Ben starts.

I ignore him; direct my reply to his father instead.

It's fine, I understand, I say.

Luke shifts uncomfortably on the spot. He averts his gaze; he won't look me in the eye. Ben, meanwhile, has gone all red in the face, and he's projecting fury at a massive rate, not even bothering to hide it.

I'm afraid, Master Skywalker says in his usual calm tenor, that I can't allow you to stay here alone.

They don't trust me – none of them – and I get it, I do.

Why would they trust me?

Ben looks ready to punch something – or someone. He practically growls as he responds to his father's request, fists clenched threateningly at his sides.

What's she gonna do, he barks out, blow us from here to kingdom come with a shuttle?

The elder Skywalker flushes pink, shifting from foot to foot again, still ill at ease. He says nothing.

Ben huffs, frustrated. He throws his hands up in the air, a gesture that he's given up the argument for now.

Fine, he says sarcastically, fine. Then what do you wanna do, throw her in the brig?

When his father doesn't respond for a second time, just flushes brighter still, Ben mutters an exasperated word: unbelievable!

I agree to the Jedi Master's request and end up locked in a small room on one of the lower levels, bereft of every normal furnishing, bar an old steel barrel that had become rusted on the rim.

Ben leaves me with a vow that he'll fix this; that he won't let his family treat me like some common criminal. And I am, I remind him softly; but he won't have a word of it.

I like him for this. He sees me as I used to be: the Tahiri of old, the one from my dream. He doesn't think of me as the Sith apprentice I am, as someone who has done unspeakable things; someone who attacked his aunt, who would have killed his mother, had the request been made.

Ben has his father's heart, and his mother's temper – the best of both parents, some would say.

I hear them, listening in to their whispered words through the Force. I don't get full sentences – they're shielding too strongly – but I do get feelings, fleeting images as their ire ebbs from high to low, low to high.

They're discussing me, for the most part: reprimanding Ben for bringing me here.

The Mara in him helps Ben stand his ground. He's not budging, not an inch. He believes in me, and in his decision to take me with him. He trusts me, and he shouldn't.

I'm still part Sith, even though I've left that life behind me. I'm broken, the shattered pieces of me too jagged to be handled. I've fallen; I have sunk so low that I can't be put back together again.

Not even he can save me now.

I barely feel him up there with the rest of them, though I'm sure that's where he is. He's been gone so long – presumed dead – that they would never leave him out of their sights now he's come back to them.

I wonder if he knows I'm here.

I wonder if he even cares.

The time ticks by so slowly down here. It feels like a lifetime since I left the too-bright, scorching grounds of Tatooine. I find myself wishing I was back there now, wishing that I'd never allowed Ben Skywalker to drag me halfway across the galaxy so that I could be locked up in his aunt and uncle's decrepit bulk of a ship.

It was a fool's errand, coming here.

I shouldn't have put my trust in him.

---

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

---

Jaina is the one who eventually comes to speak with me – or interrogate, more like. She wants to know everything: what I'm doing here, what my motives are, why I left her brother – Caedus, I correct her; twice, but she ignores me – why they shouldn't just dump me on the nearest black rock and forget about me.

I have no answers for her; none that she would believe, anyway.

Why did my cousin bring you here? she asks.

He said you needed me, I tell her.

She snorts at this, a rather indelicate sound; though delicacy is one thing I've never associated with Jaina Solo.

Yes, I agree, that's exactly what I thought when he told me.

How did this happen, Tahiri, she wants to know, how did everything get so kriffed up?

I lean my head against the locked door, let out a sigh and soak in the iciness that seeps from its metal surface.

I guess the galaxy got bored, I say and then add: with peace.

Jaina actually laughs. I feel her mirth through the Force, honest and open, just like old times. But these aren't old times, I remind myself sternly.

I forgot, she chuckles, how funny you were.

Don't confuse me with the Tahiri of old, I say, I'm not her.

---

It's hard to know these days what is a dream and what's not. I spend so very little of my time actually sleeping that when I do drift off, I'm not certain that what I'm seeing is really a figment of my imagination, or a reality.

So when my eyelids flutter open and I see Anakin standing over me, there's a part of me that laughs bitterly, berating the other part of me for being so pathetic, because he's not really here.

He's older than I remember – no taller than the Anakin of my memory, but his stance is more defined, more mature than it used to be. His hair has grown out of the cropped style he wore in his youth, and is curled on the ends. There's stubble on his chin, too: a rough bush of salt and pepper hair. It makes him look older still, and dirty, as if he hasn't bathed in weeks. His left eye isn't as blue as his right. The scar that intersects it, thick and white in its old age, probably has something to do with that.

In all my other dreams Anakin has starred in, he's usually holding me by now, drawing me towards his waiting lips, aching for me to kiss him.

This Anakin isn't. He's just standing there, staring down at me with chaos written in his expression. He reaches out as if he's going to touch me. I close my eyes, anticipating the feel of his fingers on my flesh; even if this is all another dream, a trick of the light, I'm holding my breath, desperate to have his hands on me.

I open my eyes and he's gone.

There's electricity in the room, a static charge that wasn't there before. It's familiar – too familiar – yet different at the same time. I know who it belongs to.

So it was real after all.

He's really back.

He's really alive.

And seeing him just now, it wasn't a dream.

---

I don't see Anakin again.

When Ben comes to take me out of the locked room and into the small conference centre where the Skywalker/Solo family has gathered, he's not among the group seated at the circular table.

He's not mentioned, either. Not that I blame any of them. Of course they wouldn't want their last remaining sane son – the son they thought they'd lost to the war all those years ago – to be associated with the likes of me: a former Sith apprentice, a murderer.

The Solos hardly glance at me, save for Jaina, who graces me with a curt nod as I enter, Ben at my side. He stands close the entire time, hand hovering over his holstered weapon; anticipating violence.

They ask me the same things Jaina did: why did I come here, what do I want with them, and so on and so on. They want to know about their eldest son – Caedus, I remind them sharply; they ignore it – want to know about the hold he has over the GA, the number of men at his disposal, who could be swayed, as I have been, over to their side of the conflict.

I want to remind them that I haven't been swayed; that I left Lord Caedus' side all on my own; that I have no intention of joining their side of the conflict, or anyone's side, for that matter. I'm through with fighting wars, killing, watching death. I'm done with all of it.

Look, I've already told Ben, I want no part in this, I say.

No part in what, kid? asks Han.

Ben is gaping at me on my right. I send him a warning through the Force, willing him not to argue with me on this one. I never agreed to anything when I came here with him, really only continued with the journey because he mentioned Anakin; and with the less-than-warm welcome I received upon disembarking, there's no other reason for me to stick around, little own help them with this bombardment, or whatever they want to call it.

I reiterate my previous statement.

Whatever it is you're planning, I add, I want no part in it.

Jaina pipes up from the other side of the table, her lips pulled down in a nasty grimace.

We're not asking you to storm Jacen's – (Caedus', I interject; get ignored yet again) – offices, she tries to explain.

Then what are you asking of me?

Luke Skywalker looks at me head-on.

We need to know everything you know, he says, straightforward. You're the only one we know who's been close to him since…Well. We need information, as much as you have to give.

With Master Skywalker's admission comes a certain amount of peace. There's a grudging acceptance of me amongst the group now – though there's still no sign of Anakin, and the Solos won't speak to me.

Jag Fel, Jaina's one-time boyfriend, is remarkably pleasant. The last time I saw him, he was accusing me of being a spy, or something, and whining to his then-girlfriend about my mental instability being a danger to the rest of the group. He's never really liked me, as far as I can tell; yet other than Ben, he's been the kindest to me out of everyone.

When you say Jacen controlled you, what do you mean exactly? Fel inquires after a heated discussion (instigated by Leia) about where my allegiances lie.

I take a deep breath. This was the kind of information I didn't want to divulge to any of them – not even Ben, and I trust him more than all of them combined (including Anakin right now). But there's no way around it: if I lie, they'll know, and if I refuse to answer, they'll assume I'm hiding something.

He would take me places, I begin guardedly, take me back to certain times in the past so I could observe them. Caedus always controlled the situations, and I was never really left satisfied by our journeys.

Where did you go? Luke asks.

There was never really one place, I say.

Then name one, he suggests mildly.

I close my eyes before I blurt it: Myrkr.

The word leaves a foul taste in my mouth. I press my lips together while the meaning behind this sinks in. I can see the moment the others catch on to the significance of the place; their faces pale slightly, their eyes widen comically. None of them will meet my gaze.

Ben grips my hand tight. Support flows through the connection; I shake him off.

So now they know.

I wipe at my eyes, though I'm not crying. Caedus taught me to bottle my emotions long ago, said that displaying them was a weakness he had no time for. When I pull my fingers away, however, they're wet on the tips.

Fel breaks the heavy silence by clearing his throat.

Do you think you would have lasted as long with Jacen if he wasn't promising to take you back? he questions.

It only takes a moment for me to formulate my response. The truth is, I've thought a lot about this particular point since I decided to leave him. I've known the answer for some time now.

My voice is all croaky from the not-tears as I speak.

No, is my unwavering answer.

It seems to satisfy them.

---

They're not keeping Anakin away from me, I realise some days later. He's avoiding me. Whether he saw something in me the night I thought I was dreaming, or he's just ashamed of me, I don't know; but one glimpse of me was apparently enough to quell his curiosity, and now he's done with me, the same as the rest of his family are.

The Solos never come to the mess hall, and most of the other of the ship's inhabitants avoid me like I'm full of some contagious disease that they'll contract if they come within ten feet of where I'm sitting. Ben eats with me most times, and Fel occasionally joins him, when the former Chiss pilot decides he wants to pick my brain some more.

I don't know exactly what they're planning – I won't let them tell me – but I can guess. Either way, they're going to have their work cut out for them. Some of them will probably even end up dead. Few people can tackle a Sith Master and live to tell the tale.

The clink of metal on porcelain alerts me to a new arrival at my table.

It's Jaina.

She smiles at me as she sits, thought it is weak, and there's very little authenticity behind it.

Hi, she says.

I smile back – just as thin, just as insincere.

What do you want, Jaina?

I get right down to it. I don't play games, not anymore.

She chuckles self-consciously, caught out; raises her palms in front of her face in a pacifying gesture.

I need to know, she begins, eyeing me apologetically.

Go ahead, I tell her.

Jaina takes a steadying breath.

Did he put you up to this? Did Jac– did Caedus tell you to come here?

Am I on a mission for him, do you mean? I supply.

Jaina nods.

She's clearly embarrassed, but she needs to do this – I would, too, if I was in her position.

I put her out of her misery by uttering a resounding no.

Is this a personal mission then? she queries.

I'm starting to get angry now. I feel my blood begin to boil under my skin; the ever-watchful power of the dark energy Caedus surfaced in my tingles through my fingers.

Look, I snap, your cousin dragged me here. I only stayed because…

My voice trails off as I realise I've said too much.

Jaina looks stunned.

Anakin, she breathes.

The fury welling within me quickly morphs into shame, and my face heats up in a pretty shade of fuchsia.

You wanted to save him, Jaina states.

Understanding flares in her deep brown eyes.

Myrkr, she adds, that's why you went back.

I don't answer.

She gasps, and there's something else in her expression now, something that chills me to my core, sets the acid in my stomach rising up in me as white-hot bile.

He never told you, she says, shocked.

What are you talking about? I ask tiredly.

Caedus, Jaina says simply, he knew about Anakin.

---

I am that dying star right now.

I am liquid fire, on the verge of extinction, about to implode.

---

The first few days without my Master are the easiest. I feel alive, like I've scarcely felt before. My flesh trembles with the sheet excitement of my newfound freedom.

I want to scream it to the heavens, so I do; climb on top of my stationary ship and shout it to the galaxy swirling above.

This is what life should be like, I think, as I lay back on the outer canopy of my trusty transport, eyes pointing skyward to the blanket of stars that shine out through the deep black of space.

On the third day I'm going stir-crazy, and it's physically painful for me to not return to him. The Force calls to me, begs me to re-consider my snap decision to flee, pleads for me to go back and hope that he forgives me for abandoning the cause.

It's Caedus in my mind, I'm sure of it. Even this far away from his base on Coruscant he can find me, hidden in the depths of Wild Space; reach me, almost control me.

This is when I know I've made the right decision by leaving him.

Tatooine is my third stop.

I've been plagued by Caedus' beckoning for weeks, I need a touch of the familiar to soothe me. My old homeworld seems as good a place as any to lay my head. It's fitting, really, that I should choose my place of birth as the place I will eventually die in.

I am under no illusions that I will lose my life soon. Either Caedus will come take it from me, or I shall take it myself.

I'm through with this existence, the numbness of my reality.

Pain, that's what I need.

I have three days to right myself, my line of thinking, before Ben Skywalker comes and quashes the party.

---

I find Anakin under the shuttle Ben and I came in on.

He doesn't know I'm here. I'm fleeing. I have to leave this place. It's murder, being this close to Anakin, yet not being able to touch him, or speak to him, or even look at him.

It's nothing short of what I deserve, though.

I am a murderer – a monster.

I am no better than Caedus.

Anakin shifts beneath the small ship, fumbles around blindly with one hand until his fingers connect with the tool he's after. There's blood pulsing in there, I see; living, breathing, alive.

It's still so much for me to take in: that Anakin is actually back, that he was never really dead, that he's been Force-knows where since Myrkr.

And Caedus knew. He knew, and he didn't tell me.

The angry swirl of emotions threatens to consume me completely.

Calm, I tell myself, calm.

I suck in a sharp breath, blow it out painstakingly slow.

Anakin slips beneath the ship. He cusses loud as his hand scraps over whatever part he's working on. The tool he's lost his hold on flies out at me; I catch it in a Force grip, draw it towards my open hand and grasp it nice and tight.

He slides out from under the shuttle, stares at me like he doesn't know me.

Here, I say; thrust out the tool for him to take.

Anakin makes no move to take it. He's still staring, brow all scrunched like he's trying to pinpoint my face in his memory. For a fleeting moment, I think that perhaps he hasn't been avoiding me after all – that perhaps he's simply lost his memory of me, and now that he's seen me again, he'll recall all I meant to him and the galaxy will be set to rights once more.

He regards me with a cool gaze.

You look just the same as you did in my vision, he says.

His voice is equally cold.

I drop the tool at his feet. It clangs on the hanger floor, bounces twice before the echo of it dies in the air.

Well, you weren't there, I accuse.

It's childish of me – I know this. A brief flash of the old Tahiri, maybe: Anakin always did know how to bring out the best – and the worst – in me.

He scowls, turns away from me for a second. His gaze falls on the shuttle, at the array of parts that surround its grey shell.

Ben rides this thing like a grandma, he comments.

Anakin's lips curve at the edges as he glances back at me. It's not the same Solo grin I remember – not even close; but it's a start. He's making small talk, I notice.

He definitely doesn't fly like his mother, I say with a laugh.

Anakin's smile falls away. The hardness is back in his eyes.

Sorry, I didn't–

Why did you let him do this to you? he growls.

I want to bite back that I didn't choose this, but I know that this change in me was a choice only I could make, however unconsciously it was done. Caedus isn't to blame, any more than Anakin is for seemingly abandoning me on Myrkr, or his parents, for never really understanding the magnitude of my feelings for their lost son.

I was broken, I tell him instead, and your brother was the only one who tried to fix me.

Anakin's expression softens slightly.

Are you still broken? he asks.

I'll always be broken, Anakin, I murmur.

He reaches out a hand. I don't take it, just watch as it falls flat at his side. Anakin deflates a little. The blood in his veins suddenly seems less alive, more artificial, as if he's not really here.

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Tahiri, he says.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, though inside I'm a roiling mess of emotions. The floodgates want to open but I hold the tears back.

I'm better off alone, anyway, I tell him.

---

Thy soul shall find itself alone

---

I'm more broken after my first flow-walk than I was before it.

Caedus puts it down to me not being able to handle seeing his brother again. He says he was afraid my wounds would open anew when I saw Anakin, tells me I need to be stronger.

This weak display is embarrassing, he says.

I bow my head in shame.

Before leaving, I confront Ben on the issue of Anakin.

Did Caedus know? I demand as I storm into his quarters.

He looks up from cleaning his lightsaber. It's half dismantled, I notice, as if he's grown tired of the old weapon and has decided to make a new one in the hopes that it will help him defeat his cousin when the time comes.

Hello to you, too, Tahiri, he grumbles.

You didn't answer my question, I remind him.

Ben sighs, puts down his useless saber. He indicates a chair across the room. I sit.

Talk, I command.

After a pregnant pause, he breaks the dreaded news to me.

He knew, he says.

I swallow back a scream of unhinged fury. Barely.

How long?

I'm almost afraid to ask it.

Ben looks me dead in the eyes. His expression is a grave one.

Longer than anyone, he tells me – an apology in his tone.

Then why–

Would you have stayed with him if you knew Anakin was alive? he puts to me.

I know the answer; don't even have to say it out loud, because Ben knows it, too. Of course I wouldn't have stayed. If I'd known Anakin was alive, I never would have been sucked into Caedus' lies, never would have taken on the role as his apprentice.

If I'd known back then what I know now, I wouldn't be as wholly alone as I am.

Lying was the only way he could keep you as his, Ben says.

Something inside me snaps. I stand, stiff at attention, and storm out of his room. I don't even bother to answer Ben's frantic cries as I race down the hall, into the turbolift at the end of the corridor. I kick open the door to the conference room where I first met the Solos all those days ago.

If you really want Caedus gone, I say, then I know how we can do it.

We? Leia repeats, one eyebrow rising.

I look right at her.

I'm in, I say ardently.

Ok, Leia says.

And the planning begins.

---

Ben and I are put in charge of the bait.

We need to smoke Caedus out of his hole, I tell the group, drag him out of his comfort zone, and put him on the back foot.

And how exactly do we do that?

Jaina is sceptical.

Hapes, is all I say.

Ben knows what I mean. He shakes his head, his skin the colour of japor.

No, Tahiri, he disagrees, we're not dragging her into this, it's too dangerous.

I'm sure Tenel Ka would be more than happy to be involved, Leia states.

Ben gives his aunt the eye.

She wasn't talking about the Queen Mother, he states.

He turns back to me, shakes his head more forcibly.

We're not using her, Tahiri. We'll find another way, he says.

They start talking about strategic attacks then; about creating a blockade and storming Caedus' flagship, the Anakin Solo. They mention Corellia, giving arms to whoever will take up the fight against the Galactic Alliance.

It will be like the Rebellion all over again, Han exclaims.

I pretty much tune out after this; retreat so far in on myself that I'll be lucky to surface again.

I search for Caedus while the others plan a battle around me. His spark of existence is stronger than any other. I find him easily amongst the mass of static, his mind a brilliant beacon of blood red. He sneers at me through our connection. He's been waiting for me.

I push all the anger, all the blind fury I can muster, into the meld of our minds.

Anakin, I scream at him, you knew! You knew and you kept me from him, twisted me into a monster so he wouldn't want me anymore!

Caedus laughs, because he knew this would happen – that I would eventually find out about his deception – and he's pleased. He can feel the rage brewing inside me like a quiet storm, and he revels in it.

You took Anakin away from me, I accuse, and now I'll take something away from you!

None of the others are aware of this mental exchange going on right in front of them. They're too busy discussing contingency plans to notice that I'm breaking all the rules right now, reaching out and allowing Caedus to take hold of me once more.

My one-time Master mocks me. He doesn't believe I will follow through on my threats.

He's wrong.

I let the face of Allana Djo float to the surface like a leaf ebbing on a ripple in the dark water. Caedus soaks in the image of his daughter, actually smiles through our bond when he sees her.

I stab at her likeness with an invisible force, so that her image is taken away in a slash of vivid scarlet; a mental viewing of just what I plan to do to her.

Caedus bellows out through the meld, vowing bloodshed, threatening my death.

Anakin glances over at me. He looks disappointed, and at the same time, fearful. I brush his concern away like it's nothing.

Caedus, I warn, you're going to pay.

He severs the connection before I do; but it's done the trick all right. Now, when I re-enter Coruscant's atmosphere, he won't signal the GA guard to attack.

Caedus wants me alive when he kills me.

---

It's surprisingly easy for me to sneak into the docking bay and onto the shuttle that Anakin has (thankfully) put back together: even easier for me to sneak the shuttle off the corvette and jump to hyperspace without alerting any of the life forms on board.

I don't feel the least bit apprehensive about what I'm going to do.

I'm that dying star again, flecks of me breaking off in the dead of space.

I am ready to implode.

---

The trip to Coruscant leaves me much time to think about the things I'm going to leave behind. Chief among them is Anakin. My biggest regret is that I won't get the chance to say goodbye to him.

They'll know I'm gone by now. Ben will get a blasting from the Solos for trusting me. They have no reason not to think I'm heading straight back to Caedus to report my findings.

For this, I feel a supreme amount of guilt. I never wanted to get Ben in trouble with his family, but I didn't have a choice. I had to go.

It has to be me that ends this.

Caedus told me it was weak of me to pine after Anakin as I did. He'll soon see that it's the strongest part of me.

Another star dies as I make my descent into the Coruscant atmosphere.

It quivers with the too-powerful energy that is desperate to escape its gassy shell, burns brighter than ever before for an instant – just an instant.

Things always do shine brighter just before they die.

---

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down

---

Caedus is waiting for me when my little shuttle touches down in the GA's private hanger bay. He allows me the privilege of an unremarkable entrance – no GA guard wait to ambush me as I step down the ramp onto level ground; in fact, there are no personnel whatsoever, not even the chirp of a droid to break the deathly silence of the room.

His lightsaber flares to life when I'm close enough. It glows, ghostly red, in the dimness.

This is what I'm here for.

I don't have to survive for long, I remind myself as I take a measured step towards him. As long as I take him down with me, I don't care what happens to me.

Tahiri, he snarls.

I charge forward. My saber springs into my waiting hand as I run, full pelt. My fingers slide over the ignition. The blade shines true, hums with enthusiasm as I pull it through the air, back and forth in a precise arc.

Caedus stands tall and unmoving as I begin the first wave of my attack. He meets my every blow, fires back with two more of his own, both stronger than anything I can hope to match.

The light burns bright inside of me.

I'm only just getting started.

He shoots a line of Force lightning at me. I dodge it, catch it on the end of my blade and hold it there. Caedus forgets how much he taught me when he was my Master.

Is that all you've got? I goad him.

He growls like an animal; charges at me this time. Our swords clash in a mass of crackling static and sizzling light. The overshine brings his face out of shadow. It's pale and hollow, sickly in appearance. His eyes are sunken and yellow, surrounded by heavy bags as black as the darkest corner of the galaxy.

The Jacen Solo I knew and cared for would have thrown himself on his saber if he'd known this was what he would become.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Maybe he would have rejoiced in knowing his fate; how powerful he would become.

I duck under an especially low blow, tumble across the floor delicately and bounce back on my feet in the same movement. Caedus is already coming at me; lightsaber held at a right angle to his head, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl.

The two swords, identical crimson in colour, crack together. Mine slides down to Caedus' base, comes dangerously close to where his fingers sit, wrapped high around his hilt. We're so close now that I can feel his hot, seedy breath on my face. His grimace looks even more terrifying up this close. He's truly given himself over to the monster now. There's not a skerrick of Jacen Solo left. It's almost like he never existed.

I stretch my mind out a little farther; see his evil aura glowing close to mine. Caedus' mind is filled with the desire to kill. He thrives on the smell of blood – craves my blood right now, dripping from his fingers, my lifeless body hanging limp from the tip of his saber.

He catches me then in a moment of weakness. I'm distracted. Something else has appeared on my radar: something familiar, speeding towards us. Caedus kicks me hard in the abdomen, sends me flying into the hanger wall. I hit it with a crunch of my spine; crumple a little ways down the surface. My lightsaber hangs uselessly at my side. I'm not going to be able to bring it up in front of my body in time.

Caedus draws his blade back, is about to plunge it through my chest when the hanger doors blast open. Thick, noxious smoke fills the room. I'm able to manoeuvre my body just enough for my former Master's sword to miss my vital organs. It still manages to connect with my shoulder, though. I cry out in agony as the contained beam of light burns a hole right through me. I smell a more gut-wrenching burning – it's coming from the wound between my arm and my neck.

Caedus thinks he's got me. He doesn't know that I'm a star; that I'm about to implode, and I'm going to take him with me.

As the smoke clears, I see them: the life forces that appeared on my radar a moment ago. Caedus sees them, too. He wasn't expecting them, I can tell that much.

Ben's lightsaber snaps to life. He's wearing a determined expression, and looks so much like his father as he makes to come between Caedus and I that I have to do a double take just to be sure it's really him.

Beside him, Anakin stands stock-still. His weapon is holstered. He doesn't want to attack his brother. I wouldn't blame him, except that I know what Jacen – Caedus – is capable of, and how much he deserves the fate I'm going to deal him.

I don't have to ask how they knew I was coming here. Anakin was always brilliant at reading my thoughts. It appears he's still uncannily good at it, even after all the years, the distance, my Sith apprenticeship.

There's a moment, a split second, when Caedus loses focus completely. It's so small, could fit into the blink of an eye, yet it's a long enough lapse in judgement for me to take advantage of it. I give him an almighty Force shove, shooting him south. My left boot connects with his jaw, pushing him further away from me, more off-balance. Another kick – to the throat this time – sends him toppling over.

This is when I make my move.

I launch myself across the space between us. My mouth is open wide. I'm bellowing out in what I'm sure will be my triumph. My saber arcs high over one shoulder. I thrust it downwards, aggressively. Skin and tissue and organs melt around its burning core. Caedus screams; a frustrated, defeated sound. I push further still, so that the tip of my scarlet weapon cuts into the durasteel behind him.

I've skewered my former Master.

His body twitches. He's crumpled in on himself. His breath comes in short, sharp, laboured gasps. They're the sounds of a dying man.

I pull my lightsaber out, kick Caedus' discarded one away, close to where Ben's standing, jaw clenched tight; acceptance, relief and disappointment are all visible in his expression.

His last moments are now.

I did this.

And yet, I'm still here: injured, but not dead. I burned bright like I was on my last legs, but I didn't implode.

I'm not a star after all.

Caedus lets out a horrible, strangled, gurgling sound that hurts my ears to hear it. This is my doing, though. I can't shy away from it. He stretches a hand out, reaching for me. His fingers shake under the strain of holding it there; so I kneel down beside him, reach out my own hand for his.

Tahiri, he breathes.

I take his trembling hand in mine. He grips me weakly. His energy is almost spent. It won't be long now.

I'm scared, he chokes out.

Caedus coughs, low and rasping – only it's not Caedus anymore who's lying here, dying.

It's Jacen.

I'm sorry, I cry.

I'm sobbing. I can't help it. Even after all the terrible things he's done, after lying to me about Anakin, tricking me into trusting him and doing his dirty work for him under the guise that I could have Anakin be mine again, I still can't bare to watch him die.

He was a monster – I know he was – yet there's still a part of me, a very large part of me that thinks I could have saved him. If I'd just tried harder, maybe I could have brought Jacen back: the real Jacen, the one his family knew and loved.

But that's irrelevant now. He's dying, by my hand, and that's all there is to it.

Jacen grips me tight for an instant. He looks right into my eyes, so I can't look away even if I wanted to, which I'm not sure I do. He doesn't say anything, just lies there, shaking all over, staring at me. His desperate gaze speaks volumes. This image will haunt me for the rest of my days.

I killed Jacen Solo.

I deserve all the guilt that goes with the title.

He takes one last, shuddering breath, and then he's gone, just like that. There's no explosion, no mass of glittering shards shooting out in the air in a fine mist: one moment there's life, and the next there's nothing.

I sit there staring at his lifeless body for an indefinite amount of time. My hand is still wrapped around Jacen's, even though his is limp and cold, the blood having stopped flowing the second his final breath left his body.

Ben takes me by the shoulders sometime later. The air in the open hanger has become icy, too cool. It's dark out, and there are stars in the sky, all burning bright as they make their own final stands up there in the thick of it.

Tahiri, says Ben.

He's shaking me, trying to rouse me out of whatever trance I've fallen in. I gaze at him, glassy-eyed, not really seeing what's in front of me. Everything looks blurred, as if covered by a thin layer of fog.

Tahiri, he says again, more forceful this time.

I feel numb.

Ben takes me in his arms, wraps them tight around me so he's almost suffocating me as he presses my face into his chest. I breathe him in, the strong, woody scent of him. No tears come, though I'm willing myself to just let go and cry.

Anakin is still here. He's made no move to come near me, comfort me as Ben is doing now. He probably hates me for what I've done. Jacen might have been evil, the killer of many, but he was still his brother, still family enough to be salvaged, brought back from the brink.

His mind is in turmoil: I can feel it. Any chance I might have had with Anakin has died with Jacen.

I may as well take my saber and plunge it into my own chest. I've done terrible things, too; thinking I was saving the galaxy, when I was really helping to destroy it.

There's nothing left for me now. I'm better off dead.

Ben draws back, gasping.

No, Tahiri, he whispers, you can't.

I'm staring at Jacen's lightsaber, lying forgotten near Ben's feet: a few seconds, that's all it will take.

Ben shakes me hard until my head snaps back.

No, he says, more firmly.

I let him envelope me again, wrap me so tight I'm practically fused to his chest. As I look over his shoulder I see Anakin. He's got that same expression on his face – the one from my not-dream, full of chaos. He doesn't know who I am anymore.

We're both strangers to each other now.

---

There's a fog in my mind that won't go away. It stays with my the whole time I'm in Ben's little shuttle, its thickness hanging over me like a lump of durasteel.

The trip back to the Solos' corvette is a quiet one. I'm fighting with my dark fog while Anakin sits stiff and unresponsive beside me. Ben is in the pilot seat, so at least he's got something to occupy his time; though most of it is pushing the odd button every few hours or so, and the one time he had to dodge that stray asteroid, or risk turning us into a fiery mess.

Master Skywalker has contacted us by comm twice since we left Coruscant. He doesn't ask after me, just wants to know if his son and nephew are ok.

I've been forgotten about already.

I should have ended it with Jacen back in the hanger.

Ben shoots me a harsh glare. He's more in tune with my mind now than he ever was. Anakin, meanwhile, doesn't even acknowledge me – or my dark thoughts, full of self-loathing.

My shoulder aches were it was stabbed with Jacen's saber. Ben applied some bacta salve to it after our first hyperspace jump, wrapped it in gauze and put me in a sling, despite my protests. He says there's an MD aboard the corvette who will be able to save my arm and patch up the scar.

I haven't told him yet that I don't want to be fixed. I want the reminder of my injury to stay with me until I take my last breath. I want to keep the scar and the mutated muscles and tendons just the way they are, so that I remember, forever, exactly how I got them.

They're all waiting for us when we dock.

Leia and Han rush to take Anakin in their arms. They embrace him like he's died and come back from the dead all over again. They breathe him in, their hands grabbing at him everywhere. Jaina joins in soon after, Jag standing off to one side, stoic as usual as he surveys the family reunion.

I don't go so far as to call it a happy one. Jacen's death tarnishes everything, encroaches on what should be a joyous moment; turns it black, miserable.

My presence here will only be making things worse. I'm the one that put the saber through his chest: Jacen's chest. I killed their son, their brother, their cousin and their nephew. I took him away from all of them.

Unlike Anakin, I know Jacen won't get such a miracle. I felt his life force drain away through my fingertips, heard the last kiss of his breath on the air, hazy around me like the sparkling ashes of a long-dead star.

Master Skywalker walks over to me from where he'd been greeting his son. His steps are slow, precise, typically him. He comes offering comfort, leans in to touch it on my uninjured shoulder. I shy away before he gets there.

My eyes are cast downward when I speak. But I need to say this, have needed to say it since I found out what had happened.

I'm sorry about your wife, I murmur. If I'd known–

Shhh, Luke hushes me.

He lets his comfort rest on me then, presses down firmly, nods.

Thank you for taking this burden away from us, he says.

What he's really saying is that he's glad it was me and not one of them – because I'm already broken beyond repair I can take his death within me and survive; if you'd call my kind of existence surviving.

I shake my head; say no more firmly than I perhaps should.

Don't thank me, I tell Ben's father, don't thank me for murdering someone.

Luke looks stricken for a heartbeat. Ben comes to stand beside me, takes my hand in his and squeezes it until I look at him.

It's okay, Tahiri, he says softly.

Everyone else has stopped to look at me.

I shake my head again. I can feel the tears start to sting the corners of my eyes. They're going to come. I can't stop them.

It's not okay, I say to Ben, it's never gonna be okay, not for me.

They leave me alone in the hanger because I tell them to. It's the first time anyone other than Ben has done anything I've asked in the longest time.

---

I didn't think it was possible that there was something inside me not already fractured, but when Anakin turns away from me without so much as the smallest of smiles or acknowledgements, a part of me I'd thought was lost forever shrivels and dies.

---

Ben senses my decision to leave before I've even properly made it. He comes to me, begging me in his own, silent way not to go.

But I have to. I've done the task that I needed to do. There's nothing left for me here.

I'm better off alone, I tell him.

It's the same thing I told Anakin once. Ben disagrees.

You don't need me anymore, I argue, no one does.

What about Anakin? he asks me.

I take a breath before responding.

He's never needed me, I say.

It's true; I've just never been strong enough to believe it until now. We're two people who knew each other once, and now we're strangers.

This is the right thing for me.

---

Right or wrong, I'm still standing in the same spot when the shuttle leaves, bag resting at my feet, gaze off in a galaxy lightyears away from here.

A throat clears behind me.

I spin around, the turn taking an eternity, as if my body's moving in slow motion.

Anakin, I breathe.

Hey, he greets, mouth quirked to one side.

He sounds slightly breathless, almost like he's run the entire breadth of the ship and back before coming here.

I thought I'd missed you, he admits.

He indicates to my bag, flopped on the floor between us.

I couldn't, I start.

Anakin cuts me off with a grin that lights up the room, takes my breath away.

You changed your mind, he beams, you're staying.

No, I say, no. I just needed a minute.

His face falls.

I don't understand. He's made no indication since I've been here that he cares about what happens to me – where I go, what I do; yet the moment I decide I'm leaving he launches himself across the starship to stop me.

Why? I put to him.

He knows what I'm referring to.

Anakin scrubs his face over with the palm of his right hand. The skin beneath is smooth now, like it used to. He looks younger, more like the Anakin of old; the only I loved so much in my youth.

The one I still love with all my heart: forevermore.

Maybe I needed a minute, too? he says.

There's a little flutter of something in my heart. It jerks hard, though not painfully. The force is such that it near knocks me off my feet.

So, you want me? I pose to him.

I want you, he confirms.

Just as I am? I press.

Anakin's smile becomes softer, sweeter.

Just as you are, he agrees.

I let out a long, quavering breath. It's all I've ever wanted, to hear him say those words to me. He's giving me my wildest dreams, so simply and with such conviction that I would be crazy to turn him down.

But that's exactly what I'm doing as I step up to him, place my hands either side of his face so I can look into his eyes more deeply than I've done since he left me on Myrkr.

Anakin, I say.

His eyes, bluer than a summer sky, become glossy with emotion.

You're leaving anyway, he croaks.

I nod; can't trust myself to speak just now.

He nods, too.

I can deal with that, he tells me, so long as you say you're coming back.

I can't promise anything, I say tearfully. I don't know how long this is gonna take.

Anakin sighs heavily. I watch him compose himself. It takes a second or two, his eyes closed tight. He opens them again a second later, and the turmoil in his expression is gone, just like that.

Take your time, do what you gotta do, just come back to me.

It's a demand, not a request. He makes me promise it, my fingers making a silent vow over my heart.

Anakin takes them away from my chest and kisses them, a tiny peck for each one.

He presses a kiss to my lips, feather-soft, yet the passion and promise behind it is undeniable. I know, in that moment, I'll be back. Even if it takes me another half-lifetime, I'll return to him – for him.

Soon, then, Anakin says.

I smile; pick my bag up from the floor.

Soon.

---

And the mist upon the hill

Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,

Is a symbol and a token.

~fin~