Redemption Comes from the Small Things
So, this is a Xanatos redemption fic. I couldn't find one on fanfiction so I decided to write my own. I always thought of Xan as good potential for a big brother... Anyway, I also had this idea from one of my favorited stories, a Twist in Fate by Eryninn. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and tell me what you thought. Please make sure to read about Xanatos on wookieepedia if you don't know about him. Thx!
He seethed as he looked out the window, contemplating his next move. Yes, anger. He must hold on to it, cherish it, nurture it. He must have revenge on his master for what he did to him, how he ruined his life. His green eyes glowed uncannily as he stared out the window at his target: the Jedi Temple. More specifically, the one window connected to the small balcony.
Yes, he would sneak in, he would plant his mark of the broken circle, he would execute his plan, all would be well. He refused to think of what he would do after his goal was accomplished. He refused to face the fact that he would have no more anger to hold on towards any other person, he wouldn't contemplate the thought that would have nothing else to do, no other purpose in life after it was all done. Nothing but hide from the Jedi. And flee for the rest of his life, killing any who got in his way.
No. He wouldn't. He wouldn't think of it. He brought his fist down on the table next to him, hard, and snarled inwardly. He must be strong. He must have anger to fuel him. He took a deep breath and began.
He climbed into the speeder, zipped off towards the noted and targeted balcony.
As he cut a circle in the glass door that allowed access into the temple, he didn't notice the figure sitting by the wall. The small, girlish face that tilted upwards with a face full of hope.
When he finally stepped through, his head whipped around at the sound of a tiny sigh, red lightsaber immediately at the ready. His lip curled and he growled, not having the patience to deal with this- this girl, by the looks of it. And opened his mouth. And for some reason utterly beyond him, asked a question.
"What do you want, child?"
...
The girl walked down the hallway, hand trailing across the smooth walls, hanging her head and sighing wistfully. She made her way to the room she always went to, the same time every night, and curled herself by the wall of the empty room, waiting. She always made vigil here. Always waiting, for the sight of someone in particular to enter the room. She never doubted her dream. The one that told her that her long-wanted, never-known brother would come.
She never told anyone, not even her beloved father, about the dream.
She waited night after night for him to appear, but was never truly disappointed when he didn't show up. She knew better. She would just wait.
All of the crèche masters tried to see what she did every night to create such dark circles under her eyes, but they never found out. Not until later. But that would be revealing too much.
She sagged against the wall, reaching out as best she could to the Force, and searching for the arrival of the special someone. And she found it, finally, after weeks of waiting, she felt it. And watched, silently, committing every line, every feature of the person that she could see in the dark, to memory. She saw the green eyes, the jet-black hair. And she frowned at the dark feeling that surrounded the man that had just walked through the hole in the glass. She sighed wistfully. Why was he bad? Yes, bad, according to everyone else. Bad, because she could tell that by the color of his lightsaber. No matter. He was still her brother.
But as his face whipped towards her, she wasn't afraid. No, she had no reason to be. This was her brother. And as his face contorted in anger and annoyance, she felt sad. Until he asked the question. The fateful question.
"What do you want, child?"
...
He almost felt disbelieving towards himself. What was that question about? Now the child would think he was being nice. Humph. His eyes glittered in his twisted amusement. Nice indeed. But he was surprised when he got an answer. A strange answer.
"Nothing- and everything."
He mulled the answer over for a moment before deciding that he was too old to be nonplussed by such a statement. His answer was cool.
"Oh? And what could possibly be nothing and yet everything?"
She shrugged. "Everything to me, nothing to others, nothing because it cannot be bought or given, everything because I want nothing more. It is too much, too precious to ask for." The last sentence was self-deprecating, as though she had forgotten that he was there. His lip curled. Why was he here, having a conversation with this girl?
"I see. Nonsense. You must take what you want, child. Whatever it is." He turned to walk forwards and leave when she made one last sentence that stopped him in his tracks.
"And if it's something you can't take? What do I do then?"
He turned his head so that his profile showed against the dim, street lights that filtered through the window. "Anything can be taken, young one."
"Maybe that's true, in a sense. But something from the heart cannot be taken. It must be given. Like... forgiveness."
He stiffened and turned himself towards the child. What did this child know of forgiveness? Of matters of the heart?
"And what do you know of forgiveness?"
She looked at him, and he noticed for the first time the color of her eyes. Milky blue. His eyes flared with anger, and yet a strange feeling stirred within. He crushed it mercilessly, not caring what it was.
"Much. And nothing. All, yet none." She went back to staring at her knees in front of her.
He clenched his fists in agitation.
"You seem to like making riddles." He ground out. "Kindly explain."
She looked up again, and he noticed, startled, that her eyes were now the same emerald green as his were.
"I have asked for it. Given it. But I have never fully understood it. Yes I know the words and the feeling. But can I say that I know it for what is truly is?" She shrugged.
He thought about her answer for a moment, finally coming up with a reply.
"You are a mystery, child. One I would love to solve. But I don't have much time now, so kindly tell me who you are."
She answered in a pained voice. "No one, and everyone. Important, yet not. Small, yet big. Who knows who I am? No one can tell you. You must answer it yourself."
He snarled in anger as his nerves frayed. He didn't have time for this. He stalked out of the room, and walked about the hallways of the Jedi temple angrily, swiftly, silently. He quietly found his destination, and slipped the note he had written underneath the right door. And quietly left.
As he returned to his speeder, he wondered. About the girl. About her answers. Who was she? What was she? He smiled bitterly as he wondered, and made his decision. Yes, he would find out. He would return.
He walked past the slender figure of the girl and walked out of the hole he had made. Before he drove away, though, a sentence slipped from him through the hole and into the ears of the girl.
"I find you very interesting, child. Perhaps I will answer the question you have posed."