Womble: My first attempt at a Star Wars fic with a plot that came out of nowhere... I've worked on it for a while but something still doesn't seem right...please review to let me know

Skippy: We don't own. Or Vector Prime and onwards would not exist.

Womble: and Jacen would still be a good guy

I remember, so many years ago, being paired up with a strong Jedi padawan

I remember, so many years ago, being paired up with a strong but inexperienced Jedi Padawan for lightsaber training. One who Qui-Gon Jinn had fought hard to get to permission train. He was late to join and I was tall. It was quite simple really and anyone could have predicted it. I spent many years hating this part of the training- Anakin Skywalker was aggressive and naturally gifted with a lightsaber. I was not.

Eventually he complained that I was not enough of a match for him to Master Obi Wan, and it happened that no one else in our small class was able to match him either. And so Master Obi Wan came up to me and offered to give me extra training. I agreed, and was then taught all the defensive tricks in the Jedi book. Nothing to counter Anakin though, just frustrate him. I didn't mind, as long as it made me a better knight. But then the duelling became drawn out and often neither of us gained the upper hand and we would both bow out of the match before collapsing to the ground, exhausted. Occasionally Anakin won of course, he always would. He was trained to be the best Jedi he could be, while I was merely trained to defend myself against the attacks and I soon realised my training was not to make me a better knight, but to provide a better moving punch bag for Anakin.

It was after I first realised this that I made my first big mistake as a Jedi. A very very big mistake. I attacked. I –who had had so little training in the art of the offensive- actually attacked the one who 'was to bring balance to the Force'. Unsurprisingly, Anakin defeated me easily, accidentally breaking my nose in the process.

Anakin also shot to the top of the class in our academic study too. And once again I was offered extra lessons to match him so that he would feel pushed. But I knew this is where I belonged, academia was my strength and I was damned if I was going to be a 'punch bag' here. I accepted the extra tuition, and Master Obi Wan organised lessons with Madame Jocasta Nu, Head of the Jedi Archives. But I did not stop there. Every minute of 'free-time' I had, I was in my room or the Archives, pouring over books. The look on Master Obi Wan's face when he learned that I had beaten Anakin in every single test would have been worth seeing. As was the look of frustration in the young Padawan's eyes each time I was handed back another perfect essay. Eventually, I like to believe we came to an uneasy arrangement; He would dominate the more active side of the class, while I was top in the passive.

Sooner rather than later, Anakin became a Jedi Knight due to his high fighting power and he left with Master Obi Wan to fight in the great wars against the droid armies. Due to my superlative performances in the academic tests, and my conduct in the extra lessons with Madame Nu, I was instead kept in the Jedi Temple to work in the Archives as an assistant. I was content- I loved knowledge.

But then, I began hearing the stories of Anakin's ascent to greatness and his many victories, realising that I, as the one person who matched him at every step of the way, was stuck in the Archives while he won glory and the galactic praise.

Eventually, after a terrible illness forced Madame Nu to step down, I became Head of the Jedi Archives, the youngest to ever hold the position, (though I'm not sure it that's an honour or a savage indictment of my lack of warrior skills: All young Jedi are normally out saving the galaxy). I was put in charge of teaching the young one's the history of the Republic and the Jedi Order and I got on with my life.

Now, I look around me and see damage- some irreparable- around the temple that I have called my home for so long. I dare not move too far- my hiding place is less than adequate and any quick movements could mean my death. There are stairs nearby leading out of the temple- a possible route for escape – if I could pass the Clone Troopers guarding them. I am near the dormitories, perhaps a better place to hide than behind this pillar. But I cannot move.

My reflection in the nearby smashed glass reveals that the temple is not the only thing in need of repair. My trousers and shirt are all but destroyed- burnt and ripped beyond recognition. My body is wrecked too, I am bruised and bleeding- I was lucky not to have my eye taken out by a flying shard of glass that slashed across my forehead and another shard lies buried in my left shoulder. But none of this matters, across the hall a room is littered with the mangled bodies of the young padawans who once studied history in my lessons- bloody and broken, never to move again.

And I feel pain. The pain of fear and death. The feelings we are taught so strongly to throw away. The emotions that are sure to turn us toward the dark side of the force.

From a room at the bottom of the stairs, a pale man appears. A robotic arm flexing and gripping while the other hand deactivates a light-sabre. The Jedi who would 'bring balance to the force' has shown how he is to bring the balance- by killing enough Jedi to equalise the number on each side.

And I am hiding from him. Am I a coward? Do I fear death? No, fear brings you closer to the dark side. As the man standing at the bottom of the staircase reveals. His fear to lose his wife. We all knew, every one of us- the Jedi Masters turned a blind eye since he was 'the chosen one'. I do not hate him- I don't recognise the man before me as the opponent I once faced in fierce, but friendly, duels. I am not a coward and I step forward from my hiding place. I will die with honour. I stand, proudly, at the top of the stair case.

The warrior, I refuse to name him, activates his lightsaber and the Clones raise their weapons and aim for me. But he motions them to stand down- it is to be single combat. I offer him the Jedi salute but he does not move to return the gesture, instead adopting an aggressive fighting stance, reminiscent of his childhood. Ironic.

I adopt my own fighting stance and close my eyes. I must be calm and I must defend myself until he is too tired to strike. I have never before defeated him, and after my additional training he had hardly ever beaten me. But the pain in my shoulder will not stop, and the blood is oozing from the cut on my forehead and HE KILLED THEM!- ALL OF THEM AND HE DESTROYED MY HOME AND HE DISOBEYED HIS VOWS AND HE ALWAYS BEATS ME NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY... and for the first time in my Jedi career, as the Force 'death-cry' of the young one's washes over me, I become angry. Very very angry.

And for the second time in my Jedi career I make a big mistake. A very very big mistake.

I leap forward and attack.

Womble: Well there we are... Reviews welcome, especially if they can give me ideas as to what's off with the fic...Big Thank You to Skippy for editing this for me and correcting my sometimes terrible spelling