I remember no more of that night, for he must have commanded me to sleep. The next morning, more humans were gathered around: an adult female, a young boy and girl. They had his eyes. My allies were gone.
"They have fled Corellia, exiles to both the Council and Revan," he answered my unspoken query. I stood from the grass, noting the absence of my lightsaber.
"Good. You noticed the departure of your friends before you thought of your weapon and, concordantly, your own safety."
"Return it to me."
Odd. I was not angry with them, but rather, my request was supplicating. The Dark Jedi in me quailed at my weakness. The adult female's laughter reminded me of wind chimes.
"Your need for survival is the last thing you will unlearn."
I frowned.
"I am no Padawan!"
"Peace," spoke the man, "This is my family, my wife and children."
My eyebrows sat high on my forehead.
"You, a Jedi, married?"
An amused twinkle passed through his eyes.
"I have no affiliation with the Council or Revan."
"Then how… last night you disarmed four Dark Jedi, including myself!"
He rested his hand on my shoulder, and it sent a wave of relief through me that was so palpable my knees grew weak. The fear of Revan, the worries of my own safety were flooded away by the inrush of bliss. I fell to my knees, staring at my own hands in wonderment and shock. Who was this man that he affected me so?
"Do not be afraid," spoke the boy.
"You are with us, now," concluded the girl, as though it were the simplest fact in the galaxy. Reduced to meekness by the sheer Force I had experienced, I looked up to him.
"Who are you?"
"Call me Joe. This is my wife, Jen, my son, Bob, and my daughter, Alice."
"Such foreign names."
"We try."
"Now what was this about you being the Light Side? That sounds like Jedi arrogance to me."
The children laughed at me.
"Hey."
I was annoyed because they made me want to laugh, as well. Who were this strange people? Joe gestured to the largest hut.
"Care for some breakfast?"
I did. There I was, a Dark Jedi, slayer of Light, beholden to the Sith Lord Revan, having an amicable meal in a rustic sunshiny room with a family I could have belonged to.
"How is your master?"
"My former master," I corrected immediately, angry at the topic, "I think of him no more."
"You think of him every day," Alice mentioned, casually munching a bun. Blood shot to my face in shame. Jen nodded.
"To confront the Light, one must first confront the shadow."
"He was a father to me," I admitted, words tumbling easily from my hypocritical tongue, "Most masters are parent figures to their Padawans. He was more than that; he was a friend. But all he ever did was find fault with me. No praise. No admiration. I wanted to please him so much that I ended up hating myself for being inferior."
"He was proud of you," interjected Joe. I slammed my hand on the wooden table, grieved and furious.
"That's beside the point! It is one thing to be proud; it is another to admit it! What good was his pride if he never gave me any sign? Why was he always so cold?"
"The Jedi teach non-attachment," Bob offered, "He followed the Code."
"Yes, the Code, the thrice-damned Code!"
"I agree with you."
Surprising me with his agreement, Joe continued, "The Code allows for no warmth, no affection. As Bob said, no attachment is to be made. They say it interferes with one's duty."
Joe traced a finger along Jen's arm, causing jealousy in me that I never knew such intimacy.
"The Jedi have such a difficult time with love because they are always fighting for some impossible ideal of universal peace."
He spread his arms to encompass his family.
"This is my peace. This is all I need."
Cowed by this revelation, I remained silent.
"Even if we were to be separated or die," said Jen, "the Force binds us all."
"Hah," I barked bitterly, "Then where is your mother, or your grandmother? The Jedi discourage love because, if love is broken by death or otherwise, the negativity caused would lead to the Dark Side."
"I will never understand the youth of today."
I spun around in my chair, and behind me was an elderly woman cloaked in shimmering blue light. Jen lifted her hand in greeting.
"Hello, mother."
I stuttered incoherently. Jen Senior strolled over to us and patted Bob and Alice on their heads.
"How are my favourite grandchildren?"
"Behaving, grandmamma," they chorused as if by rote. I briefly wondered how often the dead visited this family, flitting from room to room, talking of the distant past. My mind reeled. Joe steadied me with his hand and that wonderful calm settled on me once again.
"Who's your young visitor?" Jen Senior crooned.
"Sar-Salan, granny," Alice chirped, "Daddy's training him."
"Oh? Joe, be nice to this one. The last time you talked to them, we lost a few planets."
"I apologized for that Sith Lord eons ago."
"The Force knows not time, son-in-law. Farewell, I'm off to visit cousin Herbert on Coruscant."
"Farewell," said the family while I sat there stupefied as the ghostly granny faded. Joe sighed.
"She always brings that up when she visits."
"Which Sith Lord?" I managed to ask.
"Ragnos," he reminisced as though it were yesterday's news, "I gave him a piece of my mind about his actions on the Sith home world, and he lost his temper."
"You lie."
"No, you're lying to yourself. You always have, Sar-Salan. You and all who form allegiances tied by the Force constantly lie to yourselves."
"Now Joe," warned Jen with a stern glance. Joe broke off his commentary, shrugged and went about clearing the dishes away.
I needed fresh air, badly. From all I had seen, would I believe Joe to be over a thousand years old?