Disclaimer: I do not own "Star Wars" or any of its characters.This fanfictionhas been written for pure entertainment and I have not made any money off of it.

"All in Vain"
Life's most profound realizations are those that precede death. Told from a Jedi's point-of-view, as he faces the Jedi Order's newfound enemy, Darth Vader. Another short Revenge of the Sith-inspired oneshot.

I see and hear them before I sense them: hundreds, no, thousands of Clone Troopers marching towards the Temple. All I can do for moments on end is stand and watch, my mouth agape in shock. I try to assure myself that this cannot be. But, in fact, it is more real than anything I have ever experienced. It is the darkest sight I have ever seen, despite the fact that the soldiers are clad in pristine white armor.

Their presence spells certain doom. There is nowhere that I can run where I will be safe, and I know this. But a very potent sense of cowardice drives me to escape, to run as far away from the main entrance as I possibly can.

I stride through the remote corridors of the higher levels of the Temple, not daring to stop. I hear muffled cries from below, some perhaps coming from my dearest comrades. I know that I will be in the same predicament shortly, and that I am merely delaying the inevitable. Something tells me to turn back, to rectify my mistake at once. I should be down there with them, dying an honorable death, but I know that any attempt to fight so many troops will be in vain. More importantly, feelings of a need to stay secure for the time being transcend any trace of valiance left within me. Fear is of the Dark Side, of course; though the principle has been ingrained into me since I was a youngling, it isn't helping me much right now.

I let my thoughts wander back to the Cone Troopers. They were crafted to help the Jedi protect the Republic, and now their treachery has led them to betray the ones with whom they had even formed a sort of camaraderie…

A new idea begins to form in my mind as I continue my futile retreat. These soldiers are clones – they obey any order unflinchingly – they are highly malleable and easily deceived. With a newfound determination to perform a last honorable deed, I slump against a wall of a now-forsaken training room. With all my might, I summon the force to me, using it to plant contradictory suggestions into the clones' minds. To my surprise, it works. I sense confusion from the lower levels, clones hesitating long enough to allow Jedi to cut them down and begin an escape. I know my success won't last long – there are too many troopers for me to hold mental control over, and I am certain it has ended when I sense a darker presence, far more powerful than my own. Through the Force I can virtually see his face – twisted by malice as well as brief confusion. I practically watch him as he ascends in a turbolift, towards the level that I am on.

I do not attempt to move this time. There is no escape for me, or for anybody else. There is not a one who can flee the wrath of the Chosen One. Perhaps part of the reason I stay seated despondently thus is because I want him to find me. I have never witnessed such a tragedy before, and I do not wish to live to see the end of it. To die a simple death by a lightsaber is easier to bear than spending the remainder of one's existence in isolation and fear of discovery. There are many, many things that are worse than death.

I feel him approach, and I do not even open my eyes. I face my imminent death with a certain amount of serenity.

I hear a lightsaber hum to life, and I find that I lose my breath even before the weapon touches me. Without wavering, the blue blade completes its path across my chest. His task complete, the wielder of the lightsaber walks away, leaving me to collapse to the floor with the searing pain. I lie there with nothing left, save for a few last thoughts that the Force so kindly grants me. Life's most profound realizations are those that precede death, and I feel in the gravity of the moment that these ponderings are the most important ones of my entire life.

The Republic is dead, as I soon will be. All I have ever worked for, every amount of good I ever contributed to the galaxy, was all in vain, as futile as my attempted deception of the clones had been. My entire life has been for nothing, and my manner of death is suitable for someone who is a coward, one who has traveled down a meaningless path.

Naturally, there are few beings in the galaxy that would call the Jedi Path 'meaningless.' It is a life full of adventure, honor, accomplishment, and purpose. But now, at an end such as this, none of it matters.

This is the way a true story goes. There are no heroes who can overcome impossible obstacles, no matter what they may be. There is no bittersweet climax that brings tears of joy mingled with sorrow. There is no elaborate, heartfelt romance – only simple tragedy.

This is the way a life truly ends. There is no everlasting legend behind it; it merely winks out of existence within a matter of minutes. There is not even a ray of hope, only death.

Eventually, in the greater scheme of things, there will be a shining light that will bring liberty back to the galaxy. For, even after the longest hour of darkness, the light of dawn must follow sometime thereafter. Even when a star collapses finally into a black dwarf, somewhere, a nebula will turn into a supernova, creating a powerful new light in its stead. So it will be with the galaxy. But that is another story, for another time, one that I have not been granted the good fortune to tell. For now, for me, there is no such hope. For now, for everyone, all things must end… in darkness, and in vanity.

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