Space
Author: Cheryl W.
Spoilers: Any of the JA books
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything in conjunction with Star Wars nor am I making a profit from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Space is cold and barren at its bleakest pinnacle. It is an undisputed fact. I have stared out ship windows and been shaken by the sheer loneliness of it's domain. There is no safe harbor in the abyss of space.
Now as I lay on the hangar deck, I feel as if space itself has wrapped its infinitesimal grip around me. A coldness permeates my veins and I feel more alone than I could have ever imagined. As an initiate in the Jedi temple, I had yearned to explore space, to make it my own. Now it seems as if space will make me it's own....forever.
Even as I know the truth of my thoughts, I fight against them...at least mentally. Physically? Physically I am practically one with the force. And even as I berate myself for dishonoring the Jedi by resisting the progression of my soul to the force, one thought screams above the wail of the encroaching abyss: I don't want to die!
Fear leads to the darkside. I have heard that warning my whole life, at every tribulation, at every challenge, those words were thrown to me like they were to be my life line. But to me they were an anchor tied to my leg, dragging me down into the depths, telling me I have failed already because I knew the cold touch of fear. A touch I could never truly shrug off. That touch is now as encompassing as space upon my soul. I am afraid!
I did the right thing and now I am being punished! I stopped the assassin from planting the bomb on the emperor's ship! I fought, not with anger, but with the calmness of the force, I gave myself over to the force and let it use me as its instrument. The assassin was defeated as the force willed but why now do I lie dying, alone, on the hangar deck?!
I felt shock more than pain as the blaster shot tore into my stomach. The force had never given me any warning about the counter attack. The force had failed me after I had relinquished everything I possessed to its power. Or had it not been failure but abandonment or, worse still, had I been a sacrifice.
The truth can matter little to me now. The force has done with me as it wishes and there is nothing I can do to change what has occurred. Suddenly I wonder how my death will effect Qui-Gon, if it will effect him. My master is a strong man. Whatever life throws at him, he takes it calmly, strongly with the peace the force affords him. He never wanted another Padawan, certainly not an angry, clumsy, foolish boy like myself. But the Force seemed to push us together, to scream we were destined to be together. I only doubted this once...on Melida/Daan. But since then, I considered our destiny set forever. Now I realized that forever isn't as far away as I thought.
It is not all bad, my dying. Qui-Gon will have his solitude back, Bruck's family will have their snippet of revenge and I can stop worrying about my next failure. Yep, I failed in the greatest way possible. I got myself killed. A smile pulls onto my lips at my own sally. I might as well joke while I can.
Qui-Gon would be giving me a tongue lashing if he were here and privy to my thoughts. He'd be telling me to focus on the now, that self-criticism is just as harmful as anger and that a Jedi accepts the path of the force willingly.
Willingly accept death?! I guess I really would have made a lousy Jedi Knight because I'm not "willing" to surrender to death. I am determined to cling to life as hard and as long as I can. "A Jedi does not accept failure" of course there is a "until" next in the phrase but I refuse to give that exception a thought...especially one of my last thoughts.
In my bid for life, I know a healing trance is out of the question. In a blinking of an eye, I would slip into the force...permanently. No, no trance. "When you have done all you can, call on another Jedi to aid you," Yoda told me that and once I did make that call to Qui-Gon to bring the dactyl. And by a miracle, he heard me. Even as I now give a thought to call upon my master who is on this planet, I vehemently decide against it. My stubborn refusal to accept my fate and my pathetic pleading for assistance would only blacken my master's memory of me further.
Memory? I've already resigned myself to just be a mere memory in Qui-Gon's mind?! I can't even remain true to this farce of survival! A tear slips down my face and I am, at last, glad to be alone. I will not die with dignity or strength or acceptance like a Jedi should. No. I will simply die.
Agony surges through me and I can't stop a moan from escaping me. I wish for so many things, another chance to talk to Bant, another chance to save Bruck's and Cerasi's lives, another day to laugh. I want to learn another lesson from Qui-Gon, I want him to know I love him like a father. And I want to make him care about me.
More tears fall as I tally my regrets. Had I lived only some of my wishes would have been possible...seeing Bant, laughing again, learning a new lesson. The other wishes are like distance stars, intangible.
Suddenly it is as if the blanket of space is falling on my mind. My thoughts are scattering, my breath is escaping me and my heart is faltering in its measure. Space is truly making me it's own.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Author: Cheryl W.
Spoilers: Any of the JA books
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything in conjunction with Star Wars nor am I making a profit from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Space is cold and barren at its bleakest pinnacle. It is an undisputed fact. I have stared out ship windows and been shaken by the sheer loneliness of it's domain. There is no safe harbor in the abyss of space.
Now as I lay on the hangar deck, I feel as if space itself has wrapped its infinitesimal grip around me. A coldness permeates my veins and I feel more alone than I could have ever imagined. As an initiate in the Jedi temple, I had yearned to explore space, to make it my own. Now it seems as if space will make me it's own....forever.
Even as I know the truth of my thoughts, I fight against them...at least mentally. Physically? Physically I am practically one with the force. And even as I berate myself for dishonoring the Jedi by resisting the progression of my soul to the force, one thought screams above the wail of the encroaching abyss: I don't want to die!
Fear leads to the darkside. I have heard that warning my whole life, at every tribulation, at every challenge, those words were thrown to me like they were to be my life line. But to me they were an anchor tied to my leg, dragging me down into the depths, telling me I have failed already because I knew the cold touch of fear. A touch I could never truly shrug off. That touch is now as encompassing as space upon my soul. I am afraid!
I did the right thing and now I am being punished! I stopped the assassin from planting the bomb on the emperor's ship! I fought, not with anger, but with the calmness of the force, I gave myself over to the force and let it use me as its instrument. The assassin was defeated as the force willed but why now do I lie dying, alone, on the hangar deck?!
I felt shock more than pain as the blaster shot tore into my stomach. The force had never given me any warning about the counter attack. The force had failed me after I had relinquished everything I possessed to its power. Or had it not been failure but abandonment or, worse still, had I been a sacrifice.
The truth can matter little to me now. The force has done with me as it wishes and there is nothing I can do to change what has occurred. Suddenly I wonder how my death will effect Qui-Gon, if it will effect him. My master is a strong man. Whatever life throws at him, he takes it calmly, strongly with the peace the force affords him. He never wanted another Padawan, certainly not an angry, clumsy, foolish boy like myself. But the Force seemed to push us together, to scream we were destined to be together. I only doubted this once...on Melida/Daan. But since then, I considered our destiny set forever. Now I realized that forever isn't as far away as I thought.
It is not all bad, my dying. Qui-Gon will have his solitude back, Bruck's family will have their snippet of revenge and I can stop worrying about my next failure. Yep, I failed in the greatest way possible. I got myself killed. A smile pulls onto my lips at my own sally. I might as well joke while I can.
Qui-Gon would be giving me a tongue lashing if he were here and privy to my thoughts. He'd be telling me to focus on the now, that self-criticism is just as harmful as anger and that a Jedi accepts the path of the force willingly.
Willingly accept death?! I guess I really would have made a lousy Jedi Knight because I'm not "willing" to surrender to death. I am determined to cling to life as hard and as long as I can. "A Jedi does not accept failure" of course there is a "until" next in the phrase but I refuse to give that exception a thought...especially one of my last thoughts.
In my bid for life, I know a healing trance is out of the question. In a blinking of an eye, I would slip into the force...permanently. No, no trance. "When you have done all you can, call on another Jedi to aid you," Yoda told me that and once I did make that call to Qui-Gon to bring the dactyl. And by a miracle, he heard me. Even as I now give a thought to call upon my master who is on this planet, I vehemently decide against it. My stubborn refusal to accept my fate and my pathetic pleading for assistance would only blacken my master's memory of me further.
Memory? I've already resigned myself to just be a mere memory in Qui-Gon's mind?! I can't even remain true to this farce of survival! A tear slips down my face and I am, at last, glad to be alone. I will not die with dignity or strength or acceptance like a Jedi should. No. I will simply die.
Agony surges through me and I can't stop a moan from escaping me. I wish for so many things, another chance to talk to Bant, another chance to save Bruck's and Cerasi's lives, another day to laugh. I want to learn another lesson from Qui-Gon, I want him to know I love him like a father. And I want to make him care about me.
More tears fall as I tally my regrets. Had I lived only some of my wishes would have been possible...seeing Bant, laughing again, learning a new lesson. The other wishes are like distance stars, intangible.
Suddenly it is as if the blanket of space is falling on my mind. My thoughts are scattering, my breath is escaping me and my heart is faltering in its measure. Space is truly making me it's own.
TO BE CONTINUED!