Lost
He was looking into the mirror. Looking, without seeing anything.
It was morning, he was shaving. Why he still bothered he didn't know.
He was young, but he was old. His flesh was torn, his bones weak. Killing people is hard work.
'Jaq' they called him. 'The cruel one'. He liked it.
His hands, when there wasn't a blaster for them to hold on to, were shaky.
His eyes were dull and weary. He'd seen too much already. They had been a sparkling green, once. Now they were pale and grey. But he didn't mind. He had gotten over remorse long ago.
There were scars all over his spent body, but he felt no pain. He'd gotten over that, too.
His intentions had been good, once. He had been a hero. Once.
But his world had been shaken, shaken over and over until it gave in and burst, and he still continued to go on, and settled into a new world, but somehow his intentions, just as himself, too, got lost on the way.
He noticed, of course, but he didn't care. By that point, he didn't care about anything much any more.
The only thing he still felt intensely was his anger. He called it 'the cold flame', because he didn't get burned. So he thought.
In battle, he would sneak up to them, and mask himself with the feelings he no longer felt, but as soon as he was close enough, he saw nothing but red. The flame was all he felt, until it was replaced by a malicious glee when he knew he had rid the world of another Jedi.
His methods were cruel. But he didn't feel bad. He felt good.
Outside of battle he wouldn't know what to do. So he played Pazaak.
That all was the little world he'd settled into. He didn't know yet, but it was about to be shaken again. Somebody would take his little world, and smash it against the wall, until it lay shattered in tiny splinters on the ground. But he didn't know yet. For him it was just another morning, with more Jedi waiting to be killed ahead.
So he just went on, not knowing what the day was going to bring. It brought her.
She saw behind his mask. And that's why she went into his head. Connected their minds. Smashed his little glass world.
Of course he killed her. But that didn't matter.
Even though the code forbade it, she hadn't gotten over love yet.
And it worked. He saw the pieces of his world lying on the ground, and he realized what he was. And suddenly he was afraid. So he ran. He ran and hid.
He took back his old name, even though it didn't feel right, but he figured it would help him to not be so lost. But of course he was still lost.
That way he spend the next few years. Drifting from planet to planet, staying wherever there was food and a place to sleep, and wherever they played Pazaak. But only for a few weeks. Then another job came ahead, another chance to earn a few credits and a bottle of firewhiskey, and he was gone. He was running away from what he was, but at the same time he wanted to find himself again.
He was lost.
It was a good thing he was lost, though. He didn't know, but it was good.
For in order to find yourself, you have realize that you are lost first.