Author's Note: Why do I do these things to myself? I guess I must be a masochist =p

This is an angsty sort of ficlet, set during the fall of the Jedi Temple, in the point of view of an unnamed Jedi Master. Although he lay dying, he drags himself to his fallen Padawan even as he muses over his ending existence and the force itself. I made myself extremely sad writing this. I hope you all enjoy it.

Undying Truth

By: Angel Wings-008

Blood-stained hands trembled as they clawed their way across the ground, broken fingers crackling as they struggled to move, splintered bones twisted and gnarled beyond recognition. Bones as white as his ashen skin penetrated through hardened muscle and calloused palms, riddling his flesh with countless grotesque, pock-marked holes. A single Jedi Master dragged himself steadily along the cold marble floors of the Temple, ignoring the screeching sound his mangled hands made as they scraped across the surface. A deep chill was setting into his aching muscles, but he refused to give in to the temptation to rest. When his eyes closed next, it would be for the last time. He couldn't give up yet; every fiber of his being told him so.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Never mind that his intestines were tangled in a heap where they hung out of the gaping wound in his side; he could no longer feel the horrific sensation of having them ripped from his stomach. Never mind that his vision was blurry and dim, failing by the second; he could still see the small form of his young Padawan, weakly twitching where he lay a mere foot in front of him. He'd just turned thirteen two days ago. For a Padawan, that was a new age of discovery and growth in their lives. A shame that one so young would never have the chance to realize what that meant.

In moments that seemed to span ages...in a second as timeless as time itself, the Jedi Master crossed the distance and reached his Padawan's side, though he could do nothing but take his hand. His stiffening fingers could hold his boy no longer, but it was enough. It had to be. Tears trickled down his cheeks and a sob rose up to choke him as he looked into the eyes of the apprentice he had sworn to raise as his own, helplessness consuming him. No matter how hard he tried to let it go, the sorrow was thick, and it suffocated him. His hopes for this boy had been high. With luck and the proper guidance, he would have grown up to be a remarkable Jedi Knight. The Force had been with them as always, though fate had not, and their fiercest ally hadn't been enough to save them from the Sith. Perhaps if he'd been a better Master, he could have taught the boy everything he would have needed to survive.

No blame was in the gaze of his dying Padawan, even as he gasped and struggled to drag precious air into his lungs. Only the utmost love and affection was present anywhere within him. No, my Master. You're not to blame, he seemed to whisper, however silently. His throat had been brutally slashed open, or he would have, without a doubt, spoken the words aloud. That was all right, for it truly didn't matter; he heard them all the same. The Master could see it in the young boy's shimmering, tear filled eyes. That was and always would be what the Master/Padawan bond was about. Neither tragedy nor hardship could change that.

The darkside raged around them, clashing in a chaotic struggle as ancient as the Force itself. Even as close to death as he was, he knew it without a shadow of a doubt. The two sides were at war, and the light was being smothered by the darkness. These past years through the Clone Wars had been a struggle for the Order, but none of them had ever suspected such desolation. No one had even considered the thought that the entirety of the Jedi Order could be destroyed.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

They'd known there was a threat, but not that it would kill them. They'd known the Sith were gaining power, but not that they were right under their noses. They'd known, and yet they hadn't known. They'd seen, and yet they hadn't seen. Perhaps they'd been too blind; perhaps they'd been too proud. It didn't matter now, for a Jedi must not dwell in the past, and a Jedi was what he would be to the very end. He could only move forward as the Force beckoned to him. With death came peace, and with peace, came serenity. Nevertheless, no matter how many times he repeated those words to himself, he couldn't seem to grasp them. His heart was seized with panic as the calm center he'd always been able to reach remained just beyond his ability to touch, and his thoughts were laced with regret as well as shame. The Force was elusive; closer than it had ever been, and yet, harder to feel than it ever would be. Frustration boiled within him, but he refused let it win.

With death came peace…he would put his trust in that. He accepted the fact that his life would end, and he accepted it proudly. He could do that. He must do that. For no matter how hopeless and bleak these final moments might seem, nothing could possibly compare to the lost, lonely look in young Skywalker's eyes. That man had slowly destroyed himself, just as surely as he had killed them, and they had something he no longer had; the Force as their ally. More than anything, he pitied the Sith Lord for that.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

The Jedi Master slumped as his body grew weaker, his breath a faint, labored rattling deep within his chest. With the last of his strength, he reached up to cup his Padawan's cheek, and in spite of everything, the young boy smiled, even as his eyes glazed over and his body stilled with lifelessness.

This peace…it was what he'd been waiting for. Finally, he found that he was able to smile back, although his apprentice could no longer see it. He understood now. The Force was with them…always and forever, from now until eternity. As long as it flowed among them, the Sith would never win and the Jedi would never die.

It comforted him as his world went black, even when his heart stuttered and failed beneath his chest. For he was a Jedi Knight like his master before him, and his honor lie in the morals that were his heart and soul. This body of the flesh would decay, but his soul was immortal, and life was eternal. His code was his salvation; his undying truth.

There is no death, there is the Force.

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Thank you so much for reading. This really turned out the way I wanted it to. The mood of it is just the way I want it; it conveys the tragedy of the situation, while at the same time making sure there is hope. I didn't want you to be sad at the end, because he wasn't. That's what being a Jedi is all about. Accepting whatever hand is dealt to you and living, or dying, the best way you can. Once again, thanks! Reviews are appreciated.