Well, back to the desk, Star Wars fandom. But until I actually finish something with more than one chapter, here's another one-shot!
Deafness
The silence is deafening.
In the back of my head, where there used to be a bond, there is only silence. It used to be that I could hear him, even when one or both of us were shielding. My mind has always been a bit of an open book.
Not any more.
Now, the world is silent, and cold. Spring and summer have passed on. Children like us—they bloom and fade quickly.
Even now, nothing is about me any more. But that doesn't bother me, not much, anyway. It does, but not even as much as it might have, before. It would be a sacrilege to mourn what was only mine when the whole galaxy has lost my master. I don't miss the spotlight, the honor of being his apprentice.
The silence troubles me far more.
Once, I could feel the galaxy singing. I could hear the music of the spheres. The Living Force was my music—it was overwhelming, sometimes, but never truly unwelcome.
All of that has gone silent, as if it had never been. I can remember it, but sometimes I catch myself wondering if it was only a dream, my imagination.
I have tried to step away from my own pain to console others—Anakin, and those who also felt the loss most strongly—but how does one leave the pain if it will not leave you?
Oh, merciful heaven. Qui-Gon is gone. Forever!
And I—I've gone deaf.
It's all I deserve for my failure.