Ahsoka unzipped the yellow body bag that Graykill had been kept, and marveled at the efficacy of the stasis unit installed on all such bags of its like, which kept a body in a form of hyper-sleep in which decay and rot were momentarily warded off for a time.
Had it not bee for the fact that the young human's once warm face was now so terribly cold, and still, Ahsoka might have mistook him for being asleep; she did not yet unzip it far enough to reveal the ugly black hole her saber had pierced through his heart – the heart that she'd hoped to treasure for life.
The Ithorian had been the last to leave – he had lingered the longest, evidently having befriended Graykill as a slave when the human had first arrived; Ahsoka had considered inviting him to stay.
However, she'd woken to Loorpa instead quietly performing an ancient Ithorian funerary rite one morning, to honor the fallen young man. He'd then politely excused himself, parting company that same afternoon.
In hindsight though, Ahsoka was now grateful that the Ithorian's decision had allowed her be alone, where prying eyes could not intrude upon her grief and sorrow or see her in the sorry condition she was in; the tears flowed freely as she hugged the human's head to her breast.
It had taken days of reflection for Ahsoka to determine the appropriate course of action; almost immediately, Ahsoka had decided that she would turn her back on the Jedi method of complete antipathetic detachment during cremation as was common during the cremation of a fellow Jedi – Graykill deserved better, and Ahsoka still harbored feelings of resentment toward that aspect of the Jedi's fanatically ascetic lifestyle; he'd awakened Ahsoka to the concept of love; she would not dare consign him to the ages with a ceremony that removed her from acknowledging its sweetness again.
Next, Ahsoka had considered the cold and impersonal formality of a military burial in space as she'd so often attended in the days as a Padawan during the Clone Wars; however, the Togruta knew she was not a soldier in any sense of the word anymore, nor had Graykill ever been one to begin with, and at any rate she did not relish the idea of his body drifting endlessly through the blackness of empty space.
Briefly, Ahsoka had even considered conducting a Togruta ceremonial burial until she remembered that her people held no such ceremonies – the sick and elderly were abandoned to nature's untender mercy, almost always to be killed and eaten by the many hostile predators that roamed their naturally hostile home world of Shili.
Such an ignoble end doesn't suit you either, Ahsoka thought, revolved by the idea of carrion scavengers picking at his bloated corpse, as the Togruta stroked the dead young man's cheek once, and glanced over at the deep hole in the ground she'd painstakingly dug herself just a few inches away.
Seeing it brought her thoughts back to the last option: Evidently, interment in the ground was a popular human rite for venerating their dead, and struck Ahsoka as by far the most preferable of the ones available to her.
Here was a method that allowed Graykill to rest peacefully for eternity in a place where Ahsoka knew she could eventually visit him again someday if the desire ever struck her. And, on this nameless but virgin planet she'd found after wandering alone aimlessly for a while in wild space, he would certainly rest undisturbed while surrounded by the natural beauty of the wild and untamed landscape.
The Togruta looked out across the untouched sprawl; by nature of being located on a mountainside, it stretched from horizon to horizon all around the grave site, as far as the eye could see.
In spite of all this, distressing sense of unfulfilled attachment clutched Ahsoka sharply and for several long and merciless moments, and she almost actually reconsidered the decision; at the head of the grave was a fine and exquisitely carved headstone made of a beautiful naturally occurring mineral, which was perhaps if anything more than enough to satisfy the requirements of this part of the ritual.
However, Ahsoka realized she had nothing to put on it – just one more bitter reminder of their all-too-short time together. Belatedly, the Togruta realized she'd never been given the opportunity to get to know the young man at all, and that fact stung her more keenly now than ever before.
Where had Graykill's home system been, and what had been his home planet? Did he have any family that yet lived there, and who were they? How would Ahsoka ever find or even contact them to tell of Graykill's fate or his final resting place?
Even the tidbits of information such as his birth date and the date on which he'd died, so frequently inscribed upon headstones in human cemeteries, escaped Ahsoka; the cold reality that Graykill had likely died not even knowing her real name, or anything about the Togruta he'd so selflessly risked his life for, stung Ahsoka ever more sharply.
A terrible self-loathing filled Ahsoka as she once again considered the folly of her own actions, and her inability to protect the young man despite all of her glorious talents. Thus, with trembling hands, Ahsoka fully unsealed the bag, at least comforted a tiny amount by the fact that she had at least also successfully met the second requirement of the burial: gingerly, she placed him inside of a fine casket purchased with the donations of his former comrades.
Ahsoka pressed her lips against Graykill's once more, and for the final time – she averted her gaze, unable to look upon what had been lost any longer, and sealed the casket, satisfied she had given him as good a parting gift as she could have. I'll always remember you, Ahsoka thought, brushing a hand mournfully against the lid of the casket, then kneeling beside it and letting her mind retreat inward.
It took only a few moments of concentration, but as Ahsoka stilled, the casket moved – slowly it began to rise a short distance above the ground to hover above the hole; then, silently, it slowly descended into the depths until it settled in the dirt at the bottom. Ahsoka opened her puffy eyes – all according to rite and ritual.
She buried her face in her hands again.
o[#########*##]==================================================
When at last shovel full of dirt had been cast, and Ahsoka had delivered as eloquent a final prayer of goodbye as she could think of in her present state of mind, she sat back in the shadow of the stone monument and simply stared into oblivion for a while.
In spite of the heaviness in her aching heart, a vague sense of calm passed over the bereaved Togruta; never before had Ahsoka ever been allowed to mourn the passing of anyone in this way – not the most heroic yet modest and personable of clones, not good friends lost or fallen, and certainly not fellow Jedi too often lost in the heat of battle, and relatively rarely of old age; it was therefore in a sense a liberating experience.
With Graykill's burial completed, Ahsoka hesitated; she had indeed dreaded having to say goodbye. However, ironically, she dreaded her next task almost as much as the funeral itself, if not more.
Ahsoka stood, let out an uneven breath, and then turned to regard the polished stone before her. In the light of the bright clear day, it was easy to see her reflection on the glossy surface – easy to see the two scarlet and yellow eyes still gazing sullenly back at her; they still had not changed back to their normal color in spite of the changes of heart she'd experienced aboard the Star Destroyer, and that terrified her.
I can't let that get me down anymore, Ahsoka thought, trying to build her confidence for the coming task. Master Anakin redeemed me once from the power of the Dark side already – it only holds as much power over me as I give it. She thought, trying to foment the energy and determination within herself that she had not felt in quite a long time.
Ahsoka removed the two lightsabers from her hips and knelt before the plot of freshly disturbed dirt under the carved stone monolith, taking a moment to quell the fear of failure she felt, and then placed the two sabers unceremoniously on the ground before her.
As before, the material world gradually fell away and became nothing as Ahsoka let her thoughts and senses extend forward, concentrating the the two lightsabers and finding the two ailing crystals within.
Unfortunately, as Ahsoka had expected the ensuing battle of wills was grueling. However, the Togruta no longer felt the addicting tug of the crystals' murderous influence on her mind – only a malign presence that needed to be rooted out with a vengeance that Ahsoka hoped she finally possessed again.
It took everything Ahsoka had not to lose herself in the effort – many times it was only the memory of the fallen human that sustained her through moments of weakness; other times it was Ahsoka again remembering her failings that helped steal Graykill away that spurred her onward again.
When the Togruta finally opened her eyes again, the waning light of evening greeted found her lathered in sweat – it was difficult to form a conscious thought that could pierce through the muddy cloud of exhaustion that dulled her mind.
Nevertheless Ahsoka grinned, settling onto her rump in the dirt and wiping her brow; she let her hands close tentatively around the handles of one of the two lightsabers – the one Dorrekk had used to strike Graykill down – and thumbed the ignition switch.
Red.
The murderous fiery red color greeted her the moment the saber flared angrily to life, and the blade nearly tumbled from the Togruta's hand at that; the horrified discouragement slapped Ahsoka more forcefully than any physical blow, and she stared in disbelief at it for several long moments, even as her other shaking hand closed around the second blade.
Red.
Both sabers remained the same unforgiving, hostile scarlet that they had been before she started… So what had gone wrong? Where else had Ahsoka failed? She'd poured every aspect of herself into them exactly as before.
Defeat tugged at the Togruta more strongly than ever before, and for once, she didn't have the strength to withstand it anymore; slowly, Ahsoka spared a glance back at the meager campsite she'd set up a short ways down from the grave site: it seemed so far away now.
As the features of the camp blurred, Ahsoka merely pressed a hand to her head and settled into the dirt beside the grave, unable to think anymore.
==================================================[##*#########]o
"…You've made me very proud, you know." Graykill began quietly, startling Ahsoka – the Togruta gaped openly at his sudden appearance even though the thin apparition of the human only reinforced the grim reality that he was dead; she tried to jump to her feet in disbelief, and found she seemed to be rooted to her spot.
Instead, quietly, the human sat beside the Togruta and snuggled up to her; unlike before, he easily reached an arm out and wrapped it around her, fondly – there was no tremendous drain on his life force as there had been before.
"I told you that you could still change, and I was right. I knew you could bring back the goodness I sensed in you, and that is why you've made me very happy. You've come a long way, but, you aren't finished yet – you have a bit farther to go still." He said; Ahsoka retreated into his embrace, hardly able to speak.
"What do you mean?" Ahsoka tried to keep from whimpering the question as she spoke. "I did everything I could to turn away from the darkness – I thought I would be done! Is it always going to be a part of me then!?" She demanded somewhat shrilly, only settling after Graykill quieted her gently.
"In a way, yes." The young man said, bluntly. "Never forget that the call of darkness will always be there," Graykill said comfortingly, as if that which Ahsoka spoke of were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, "But so will I."
"You still hold the fires of hate close within your heart. You still hurt inside, too – that is why you failed at the task you set yourself after today." Graykill explained solemnly a moment later.
"How is that possible? I rejected all of it – for you!" Ahsoka said in desperation; however, the young man merely shook his head and smiled ruefully, unperturbed by her outburst.
"Wrong: The hate you feel is no longer directed outward, so much as within." Graykill replied patiently, and that struck Ahsoka as she pondered his words – then, for some reason, the Togruta was again visited by thoughts of Master Anakin, almost certainly a victim of Chancellor Palpatine's murderous plot to exterminate all Jedi.
"You still hold yourself responsible for my death – for not being able to save me from it. You haven't forgiven yourself, have you?" Graykill asked.
The observation struck Ahsoka into a stunned silence. "H-how could I?" She finally asked, honestly.
Again, to her surprise, Graykill grinned.
"Everything happens for a reason," Graykill responded without bitterness; ironically, the dead human's words echoed the prophetic saying Ahsoka knew was a central tenet in the lives of all Force-users, both good and bad.
"Although… A-although I hope it never happens, the day may come eventually that you find out just how terribly wicked someone who cannot forgive themselves for the deaths of others can be." The young man eventually said, somberly.
Ahsoka paused to ponder his words – something in them resonated with Ahsoka's Force-sensitive sense of intuition, just as they had in her cell back in the Pirate base when she'd been visited by some vision, dream, or hallucination of her dead former Jedi Master Plo Koon. However, with such scant details, the Togruta's mind pushed the thoughts away in her haste to make every moment with Graykill last.
"…Don't be so hard on yourself – for my sake as well as yours," The young man said quietly. "––Because, after all, we won."
"How in the Galaxy can you say that after everything that's happened?" The Togruta asked, mystified.
"You beat Dorrekk – you did single-handedly what the ten of us put together could not do. After years – maybe a lifetime of abuse for some of us – do you have any idea how satisfying it was to see?" Graykill asked, amused, before growing a little more thoughtful.
"…Besides that, getting the chance to spit in his eye one last time was worth it, no matter the cost." Graykill remarked. "…And do you know why? Because, in spite of all he horrible things him and his minions planned to do to you… You're free. My beautiful twinkling star is free to shine, and brighten the night sky of so many others still in darkness elsewhere in the Galaxy." He said, prompting Ahsoka hugged him very tightly for a moment, missing him all the more keenly.
"…I watched you stand up to Dorrekk the first time I ever laid eyes on you. I've seen the way you move, the way you carry yourself, especially in a fight – you reminded me of a hunting Zalaaca, and although the idea was certainly romantic to me being an ordinary human, I doubt you would have truly been the type to be satisfied with the quiet life of marital bliss for very long," Graykill continued; "You've still got plenty of trials and adventure ahead of you."
Something in the human's prediction for her future rang true in Ahsoka's mind; she knew it instinctively, and in spite of Graykill's words, she felt a vague tinge of bitterness toward the Force itself, for having chosen such a cruel method of preparing her to resist the path of the dark side.
"…I did the best I could to say goodbye." Ahsoka eventually responded, changing the subject and casting a glance back to the stone behind her.
"I see that. It looks wonderful – but as I said before, it doesn't have to be a goodbye. In a way, I will be with you wherever you go, watching over you. And, I'll be waiting for the time when we can be together again." Graykill responded; that poignant, ominous statement filled the Togruta with both dread and eagerness at the same time.
However, before much more could be discussed on the subject, the young human paused and looked away, as if someone or something had caught his attention in the distance; however, despite all of her abilities, Ahsoka saw nothing when she followed his gaze out into the nothingness – nonetheless, when the young man turned back, Ahsoka instinctively wanted to reach out for him, realizing what would come next.
"…I have to go now." Graykill nodded quietly, embracing her tightly – Ahsoka tried to latch onto the human; she did not want to let him go, even if it meant following him to parts unknown, but in spite of her best attempts, she could not gather the strength to get up and follow him.
"…It was wonderful seeing you again, Ahsoka," Graykill said, his voice becoming quieter and more distant with every syllable, until the last words might have just been a faint echo on the night winds.
"I love you."
o[#########*##]==================================================
Ahsoka Togruta blinked, opening her eyes to the dim brightness of pre-dawn greeting her, confirming that the young human was gone. The Togruta mutely glanced around the camp in a slight daze, almost hoping she might still somehow catch a glimpse of Graykill – however, there was nothing, as she'd known deep down inside there would be, so she sat up.
In spite of spending the night laying in the dirt, with the breath of the wind-swept mountain washing over her through it all, Ahsoka felt as though she'd finally had a restful night's sleep for the first time in a long time – she felt the place within her spirit that the young man's lingering presence had bolstered her courage, and it was this she clutched onto and used to dull her physical discomforts until little more than a little stiffness and dull aches.
The sense of closure Ahsoka had only gotten a taste of the day before now fully began to flow throughout her as she settled down against Graykill's headstone and tucked her chin into her chest. As the seconds turned to minutes, the Togruta let her thoughts drift to Graykill's words as she prodded herself to concentrate on the meaning behind them.
Thanks to the young man's gentle reassurances providing a measure of relief and level-headedness, the Togruta began to meditate simply to meditate, on the previous evening's traumatic experiences: For the first time in a long while, there was nothing to run from, nothing to hide from where she sat. Here, there was no fighting. Here, there was no Sith Empire, no Jedi Order. Here, there was only peace.
There's also Graykill, the stubborn portion of Ahsoka's mind prodded itself; however, almost immediately Ahsoka forced that toxic thought away – both Master Plo and Graykill both had seen fit to caution her specifically about giving such a mindset the chance it needed to corrupt.
Without bothering to get up, Ahsoka merely outstretched a hand and focused her will upon the two devices laying where they'd rolled free of her hands the day before. The twin sabers jumped free of the dirt and slapped themselves into her hand.
Ahsoka examined the two devices for a moment in the increasingly bright light. Calling to them had been less difficult with the budding sense of serenity easing into her mind – timidly, Ahsoka's thumb drifted to the ignition switch on the Shoto, the shorter of the two blades. Would they still be red?
Of course they would, Ahsoka thought, brushing away the idealized fantasy that perhaps they might have changed somehow on their own during the night – she'd done nothing to change them in her sleep; glancing up at the pinking horizon far in the distance directly ahead of her, Ahsoka's thumb left the switch, and she let her head thump back against the chilly smoothness of the polished headstone.
They're still red because they still echo the turmoil that is within me, Ahsoka finally realized, after some more time spent in quiet reflection.
Though Ahsoka had discarded the murderous rage toward other lesser beings that was the hallmark of the most dangerous of Sith Tyrants, she'd still kept the pain of the young man's loss alive and well within her; as the grayness of the coming dawn gave way to the first golden yellow slivers of the sun, the Togruta realized that the horrible self-loathing she'd harbored at not being able to prevent Graykill's death must have continued to resonate into the crystals, leaving them their terrible red color.
Graykill never forgave me for letting him die – he never held a grudge over it against me in the first place… Could that be what Master Plo meant when he'd said that the Galaxy might suffer at the hands of someone whose good intentions were twisted into something bad? Ahsoka wondered, drawn to the mystery surrounding the cryptic statement, and feeling horrified at even the idea that she might one day grow to be a threat to so others.
The pinking sky grew brighter with the coming of the sunrise – Ahsoka took in a shaky breath as she did so. Today… Is a new day… The first of – possibly – many in my lifetime, the Togruta thought, feeling a strong tinge of irony given her death-defying lifestyle. It may not have been a day Graykill lived to see, but he made it clear he would not be bitter over it if I could witness it for him, Ahsoka thought, beginning to concentrate again.
I… Have to be strong, and move on. For him – for both of us. She corrected herself mentally, remembering his statement that she would never be truly alone again. However, as Ahsoka's focus began to form around the sabers, the Togruta stopped, realizing she was likely already preparing for failure again.
Instead, Ahsoka turned her concentration inward, locating within herself the lingering bitterness, resentment, self-loathing, and despair that had taken root. It almost physically hurt to openly confront for the very first time in this way the feelings which had been weighing on her mind so strongly since she'd begun to despair while wallowing in her own misery as prisoner – they came rampaging back in a blast that nearly felt as bitter as experiencing them again for the first time.
However, unlike before, this time as the first gentle rays of the sun began to warm her skin, the Togruta maintained steadfast focused on her newfound source of purpose and peace: You're free. My beautiful twinkling star is free to shine, and brighten the night sky of so many others still in darkness elsewhere in the Galaxy. Though the strain was still tremendous, Ahsoka let the storm of emotions break on her and play itself out until at last she was left as a healing wound wound: still tender, but free of the danger of lingering infection.
Awakening some time later as if from an unusually deep meditative trance, Ahsoka blinked away the bright sunlight, which was now climbing higher into the sky, and shifted her attention to the two sabers still in her hands.
This was the saber that Dorrekk used to cut down Graykill in cold blood, Ahsoka thought, staring at the offending device in her hand for several long moments in silence. I highly doubted I would have ever wanted to even touch you ever again, let alone carry you by my side as a treasured companion like I once did… But, while I know I'll never, ever be able to forget that… If there's hope for me, then there's hope for you yet too, the Togruta thought. It's time to see how far the limits of my forgiveness reach.
==================================================[##*#########]o
The twin silver beams in the Togruta's hands hummed, casting their brilliant silver light across the polished stone of the memorial – however, Ahsoka's gaze was momentarily pried away from them by something shining in the reflection off the stone: her silvery-blue eyes, illuminated faintly by the light of the twin silver beams.
A tightness in Ahsoka's throat dogged her, but she extinguished the blades and let out a deep sigh of relief – then, she pressed a hand to the cool rock of the headstone, patting it.
There's nothing for me here anymore, Ahsoka thought to herself, though the thought was ironically a happy one: no longer did she feel the desire to linger there by the grave's side, until at last perhaps hunger and thirst finally managed to drive her away. She stood, feeling the desire to once again be in motion – she'd spent enough time here already.
Hanging her sabers on her belt, the Togruta's hands closed around a crate – in minutes, she'd completed loading most of the few things she'd brought there onto the much smaller, far less conspicuous ship she'd purchased with the proceeds from the sale of Dorrekk's freighter.
Then, when all was prepared and ready to go, Ahsoka returned once more and for the final time to the stone that marked Graykill's final resting place. No longer did it feel like she would be leaving the human behind anymore as she remembered his words: as I said before, it doesn't have to be a goodbye. In a way, I will be with you wherever you go, watching over you.
Still, something seemed unfinished, and as Ahsoka once again saw the reflection of her newly restored cerulean blue eyes in the unblemished stone of the monument face, she realized what it was… And drew the saber that Dorrekk had used to claim Graykill's life.
Adjusting the settings, Ahsoka drew the 'blade' – which she had dialed back in size until it resembled a light dagger instead. Pausing for only a moment to think, the words came to mind, and Ahsoka set to carving the epitaph as she could manage with the tip of the shortened blade, in the stone:
Here lies Graykill, a slave no more;
You're free – My beautiful twinkling star is free to shine,
And brighten the night sky of those who had been trapped in darkness
o[#########*##]==================================================
Epilogue
An ugly dread filled Ahsoka as the burned, melted, blackened, starship cannon pockmarked, and burnt-out hulls of the once-vaguely familiar town became visible in the far distance through the view port of Ahsoka's ship as the craft slowed in speed and began a landing descent.
What had once been a relatively picturesque collection of plasticrete huts at the top of a large hill was now almost literally a ghost town, and in spite of all the time Ahsoka had spent gradually becoming desensitized to the sight during her tenure in the Clone Wars, it was difficult looking upon this particular hamlet once again, so soon after her recent ordeal.
The loading ramp of the ship sank into the Earth with a quiet whir; however, not even the hiss of the starship quietly venting its excess engine gases could shield the Togruta from the smell of rotten flesh; Ahsoka strode down it numbly, taking in the destruction.
The door to the friendly old human – Gertrudymede – that had once been opened to Ahsoka in shelter just weeks ago, now lay smashed open forevermore; at first, the Togruta had returned to this tiny hamlet with the hope of checking on the survivors of the Pirates' visit. However, it was now abundantly clear that in his unending wickedness, Dorrekk had not shown even a single inhabitant mercy.
Rotting corpses lay strewn about where they hadn't been burned to a crisp or entombed within the crushed structures of the tiny town's few buildings the day it had been sacked; Ahsoka felt her stomach clench, and her hands clenched around her sabers.
Before, Ahsoka might have allowed herself herself to feel wholly responsible for their deaths; however, the wave of hate and anger that passed after Ahsoka spent several moments steeling herself against it mentally – a moment later, her hands left her sabers, and she took a shaky breath to stop and think: Nothing more could have been done for these people.
However, Graykill's words echoed strongly in her mind: My beautiful twinkling star is free to shine, and brighten the night sky of so many others still in darkness elsewhere in the Galaxy. Ahsoka nodded very slowly as she realized that the Pirate's death would certainly be a boon to his present victims, as well as those he might have eventually preyed upon in the future.
Revenge is not the Jedi way, Ahsoka thought, casting her thoughts to Graykill and all the other decidedly non-Jedi things the young human had stood for in his life; Then again… I am no Jedi, Ahsoka thought, as she took a measure of satisfaction that at least the deaths of the towns people here had been fully avenged by Dorrekk's destruction.
Once Ahsoka had done as much as was possible for the dead villagers, she strode back up the ramp to her ship, not casting a glance back as she began departure proceedings.
A wave of determination began to grip the Togruta as her ship carried her upward through the highest reaches of the planet's gathering dusk – elsewhere across the Galaxy, there were many wrongs needing to be righted, and with the Jedi order burned and gone, there were much fewer people now than ever before left to strike back at the creeping spread of the Empire's wickedness.
Graykill said there are still a lot of other people in the Galaxy whose lives are still shadowed by darkness… Ahsoka thought to herself, as the starship's light and sub-light engines flared, and their bright glow in the distance became indistinguishable in the glittering twilight from the lights of countless thousands of stars.
…Well... It's time for me to start lighting up the night sky!
==================================================[##*#########]o
Author's Note: Once again thank you to all who have enjoyed and cared enough about my work to finally see it through to its conclusion. Y'all the real MVP's.
I also want to thank those who cared enough to leave constructive criticism or enthusiastic comments, which are always greatly appreciated.
I sincerely hope the conclusion was to your liking, and I wish you well in the coming year of 2018.
Cheers!
-G.