As the headache began to subside, the random images of strangers offering congratulations, orchestral music paired with lovely flowers and that familiar voice that echoed my own 'I do's' flitted through my mind and I was unable to stop their assault. The images cut into my formidable shields effortlessly, shuriken of church organs, laughter, her smell.
Liar!
I lay facedown on the floor, wishing the ache would stay in my head instead of going for my soul. This wasn't my memory, these were not my thoughts. The wedding on Naboo had been secret, there had been no music, no people besides us and the priest.
All of that was at her funeral.
I reach down to my utility belt; the lightsaber is where it always is. I push myself up, heedless of the jagged lines of pain down my side. Halfway up, my vision doubles, blurry around the edges. I pause, letting my inner ear get it's bearings, relying on the Force to stay standing in the meantime. I am the eye of an invisible hurricane.
You killed her.
The lightsaber activates, cleaving into the wreckage around me. It casts a red glow in every direction, a beacon advertising my presence. Not that my hurricane wouldn't give me away to the nearby Jedi. I left the saber on, taunting him.
"You cannot escape." I call to the empty air. I want a fight. I need the distraction, the focus, the outlet; she haunts me with her smile.
Gravel shifts behind me. I turn to meet a defiant gaze and long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Joeema. I wonder briefly where Arden is, then dismiss it as irrelevant. The only Force presence on this planet is staring at me with brown eyes. Her brown eyes.
I hate her.
She shifts into a middle guard position, her chin raised. Come and get me, it dared.
I'll take that dare.