Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. All recognizable plots, characters, things, ideas, places, events, etc. that are from Star Wars or any of Mr. Lucas' other works belong completely to him, and not to me.
The hall was silent. Dead. The sort of quiet that arrived right before terror blazed into a place, burning hatred destroying it to the ground. He ran quietly, bare feet hardly tapping against the floor as he moved forward, young heart pounding in his chest. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, he realized they were coming. Sooner or later, they would find him. It was only a matter of time.
He pulled the end of his course tunic down over his small light saber, hoping to obscure it from view. The boy darted into another hallway, desperately searching for a place to hide. Pretend it's hide and seek, he told himself, shaking more horribly then the time he had accidentally slammed the doors on his foot. He had stood there for what seemed like hours, screaming in pain as the technicians worked to open the locked doors, until finally, they did, revealing his crushed bones.
For a moment, he almost paused, considering whether or not they would show mercy because he was a child. Images of still, dead, infants and six-year-olds lying in pools of their own blood crossed his mind, and he shuddered. They won't stop just because I'm young, he realized. Young things grew up someday, and they could be dangerous. You had to get rid of them before they became a challenge. And soon, if he lived, he could be a challenge.
He stopped in front of a large corridor that split into several other hallways. Observing them, he decided upon one that was littered with several bodies, coming to the conclusion, If there are dead people, then that means they were all ready here before, and might not come back again. He tried to be strong, brave, tried to keep his emotions in check as all Jedi were told to do, but finally, after seeing the lifeless eyes of a young girl he had known well, he could not hold back any longer. Quiet sobs racked his body as he made his way into a small room. Quietly, he snuck toward the edge of the doorway, only making himself visible when he was positive there were no white-armored clones waiting inside to murder him.
Like they had done to everyone else.
The young boy stood unsteadily on a piece of broken wall, not daring to draw upon the Force, for fear that the traitorous Jedi somewhere nearby would sense him. Throwing open the small cupboard doors, he clambered inside, pushing all objects that he could in front of himself. The doors slammed shut, as he became one with the darkness inside that obscured his presence from the outside world.
They are all dead. The thought brought him little satisfaction other than the knowledge his wife would live. Screams of dying children echoed over and over in his mind, as did the twirl and hum of his light saber as he brought it down, through, and over small the small, fleeing bodies. Their sudden stillness and quiet flashed before his eyes as he moved onward, shutting out the barren silence of the place he once called home. Stopping suddenly, his blue eyes scanned doorways, hallways, and debris for signs of the living presence he sensed in the Force. Suddenly, he walked briskly toward a hallway filled with the empty shells of the dead. Silencing the thought that said, You killed them, he motioned for a group of clones to follow him. Continuing only when the noisy clank of their armor was heard, he stepped into a room that was surprisingly empty. His eyes locked onto a small cupboard. He threw the doors open, revealing a terrified and frightened boy.
Just let him live, a voice in the back of his mind pleaded, demanded.
For a moment, he considered the idea. At least, it would be some sort of repentance, a compensation, for the lives he had cut short. He gave a nodded, and the shelf exploded under blaster fire. He turned away, not desiring to see the child's remains. As he left the ruins of the Jedi Temple, Anakin Skywalker chased away thoughts of guilt. He would have died sooner or letter. It was really only a matter of time.
As consciousness fled his dying body, the boy used one last strand to think, It will all be fine, someday. It's only a matter of time. There was darkness, and a moment later, light and peace.