A/N: I just came up with this idea for a story. I found out about an hour ago that one of the greatest influences in my life has been dead for several weeks now. And I wanted to write a short story about the way I feel right now through one of my favorite fictional stories—Star wars.

Disclaimer: Duh! We all know what it will say.

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Awake Within Memories

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It had been a beautiful day. War had ruined it. I remember it well, yet I remember nothing. On a day we should be celebrating and enjoying, I was lost in a mind set I had never known before. I was lost in the past and present at once. Mentally, I was in the past. I couldn't bring myself past that one moment in time. Physically, I was hidden away in my room, eyes red and swollen with no way to explain the way I felt. There was no emotion, yet I was still, somehow, overwhelmed with all the emotions in the book. It was a day of celebration for everyone on the planet of Tattooine, but I was alone for the first time in my life. There was no friend by my side, no mentor or someone I could turn to. I was truly alone and I had no idea what to do. There were no eyes to meet or words of wisdom to comprehend. There was no gentle smile or comforting touch. There was no one.

Cheers rang in my ears, but I couldn't hear them. The war had been won. But the true BATTLE was just beginning. I had never been alone before. There had always been someone, whether it be a teacher or a friend, or my Master Qui-Gon Jinn. But he was gone now. He was never coming back. I would never see his gentle smile or feel his comforting touch ever again. They were lost with him in the glorious last battle of Qui-Gon Jinn. They were memories I couldn't remember. All I could think of was the red lightsaber piercing the my Master. All I could see was the red lightsaber. All I knew of was the red lightsaber. That lightsaber and I were the only ones left. The rest were forgotten in their celebration. They didn't matter. They had won. They didn't care about the loss. Anger filled me when I thought of how they might say that the one loss was worth the great battle being won. But no one realized that one loss was everything loss for me. No one understood how it felt to be alone in sorrow when celebrations were wild just outside your window.

One last thought of my Master was all there was. That one thought could last me forever. I would never understand why it had happened. I had heard once that death was just another journey, another battle. But what if the dead didn't win the last battle before they died? Was it still a battle? Or were they just dead? Were they taken on this journey or were they left behind? Death was a mysterious thing. When you're alive and all those around you are alive, it doesn't seem too bad. But when you experience it in your life, losing someone great in your life, it seems like the end of the world. And in a way, it was for me then. That part of me was dead. He had always brought out a part of me. Perhaps it was because I wanted to earn his respect, rather than him just giving it. But it was dead…

Too many things had died in one moment of a lifetime. My passion for life, my humor, the battle had died away, for it didn't matter anymore. My Master had died. That was the worst of all. No one cared that I was mourning the loss of a great man. No one cared. One death was worth it. Worth it? I ran these words over in my mind. How many deaths are truly worth one battle? Would they ever realize that no one should die in a battle they were winning?

A stray tear slipped from my eyes. I realized my face was chapped and raw from crying so long. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Weeks? Months? All sense of time was lost. Time didn't matter anymore. Why should I give a damn about time or a celebration when my Master was DEAD? Why should they give a damn about a celebration when my Master was dead? It was because of HIM that they were alive. Why weren't they crying too? Why weren't they building great statues in his memory? Did they value a life so lowly? Was it possible for them to not care? How could they?

More questions came to mind, all linking to the people celebrating and my Master's vicious death. No matter how hard I tried, I came up with no answers. There was nothing but his death. Every question linked to it and no answers were able to circle back to it. There were no explanations. No one was there to offer any words of encouragement or tell me they were sorry for my loss. It wouldn't make me feel any better, of course, but knowing that he was recognized was a good thing. He wasn't though. The battle was won for the most part. Only one major loss. Why should anyone care? A battle for a whole planet should be worth a death. But a death of how great a person? Would it take the death of Jedi Master Yoda? Or the Chancellor perhaps?

I stood slowly. My legs were weak for I hadn't slept since before we landed on Naboo, long before my Master's death happened. I walked to the window of my small room I had previously hoped to share with my Master after we walked away from the celebrations to sleep for several hours before we had to return to the Jedi Temple for our next mission. But, no, my next mission would be with another Master. I would have to start all over as if I was just leaving the Temple. I would have to form a bond with the new Master and get to know him or her and learn their ways. I had to start from scratch after so many years of doing it one way.

I watched the people of Naboo dancing in the streets. Foreign drums were being played. I remembered long ago, on my first mission, a great warrior had died. They played a soft song on drums. It was the song for the dead. I tried to remember the foreign words, but I couldn't even remember the beat. I couldn't remember the sound of the drums. I sighed and massaged my tired eyes gently. I looked at the calendar up on the wall. I guessed the maid had come to change the date when I was staring at the floor and I just couldn't remember it. It had been nearly three days since the battle. I hadn't slept in nearly four. I turned back to the celebrations. How could they carry on so long? Had they even remembered those they lost? Did they care? Why didn't they?

It had been three days since my Master's death, but it was in that moment. I was by my window watching the drums and the celebration. I suddenly remembered the beat and words to the song I had heard. It was Master Qui-Gon Jinn who translated them for me. "Without that certain someone, you're without something more and something deeper. It flows down into the very core of you, molds you into who you are. Any amount of time won't heal it, but a true warrior never dies. Awake within memories, there is always a small piece of the warrior. One student or friend passes on the memory to their children and no memory is truly forgotten. Soon, the warrior who everyone had forgotten becomes the greatest warrior alive… because he was."

I cried harder then. I smiled through my tears. Qui-Gon Jinn was awake in my memories and maybe, someday, I would pass on the stories and words of wisdom he had offered me once, being sure to mention that my Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the greatest Master ever alive, had told me this. I stared down into the celebration and suddenly knew he wouldn't want me depressed or grieving. If he were alive, he would ask me to dance for his life and only remember his death. After all, it was his in his life that he made such a difference. Not only in me, but in the whole planet of Naboo. Perhaps I was wrong to be angry with them. Perhaps they were celebrating his life instead of mourning for his death. Perhaps they were right and I was wrong. Perhaps they were waking him within memories.

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Tell me how you liked it, please. I can add another chapter of like how he deals with everything once he leaves Naboo if you want me to. Don't know. Lemme know what you think though.