Dear Reader, Thanks for your patience. And thank you to the reviewers of my last chapter: H, Jessica Wolfe, thaismarendaz, Sued13, DojoYoyo, and Akira-Hayama. As always, much appreciated, especially given the long wait between chapters! Glad to know I still have readers! Fair warning, this is some sexuality in this chapter (fairly mild but worth a warning). Happy reading! cheers, CS
Chapter 148 The Scroll
"Are you sitting on a tiny island
as the tide rolls in on you?
Are you getting that sinking feeling
as it all comes home to you?
But if you care, don't run away.
The freedom's inside your head.
That's what we said.
Picture the wings that take you
to the love you need."
Island
Justin Hayward
"I can ask the Creator."
That was what she had told him. That was what she had told Cody.
It was not untrue. It would not be unseemly to ask the Creator for His intercession. After all, He had answered her prayers before – more times than she could count.
But she would not ask Him for permission to use the souls. She already knew the answer to that question.
Of course, she had already prayed for the Creator to heal Rex. It had been her unending prayer since the moment she'd seen what had been done to him. Now, a week had passed, and while the physical healing had progressed, Maree felt that Rex was further away than ever.
Cody's late night visit had shown her that hope was fading. Fading to the point where even Cody was ready to turn to the unknown in search of help.
Maree sat up in bed. She couldn't sleep. And this was not where she wanted to be.
She would head back to the healing rooms.
The walk seemed longer than ever. But perhaps that was because she was moving slowly. As much as she wanted to see him, to be with him, the thought that she could find him in much the same condition—or poorer—weighed heavily upon her and made each footstep an effort.
Why was she unable to bring any change? Why was the Creator not listening to her? He had interceded with Kix. Why was He not doing so for Rex?
Was she being too selfish? Too focused only on her own desires?
"No. The rest of them need this, as well," she said softly, speaking only to herself but knowing the Creator heard every word, knew every thought. "They risked everything for him. They need to know it wasn't all in vain."
She came to the healing rooms, where the nightshift greeted her.
Entering Rex's room, she was surprised to find no one there with him – even at the early hour of the morning. Someone was almost always at his bedside.
Just as well, for she wanted to be alone with him.
She stretched out her arm and placed her hand on his forehead. "Show me where you are, Rex. Help me to find you. This isn't right . . . you're healing but you're so far away."
Yet, no answer came. Maree felt a sense of defeat. What evil was it that allowed his body to heal but held his soul prisoner?
"You have to come back," she implored. "So many people are counting on you. I'm counting on you. This isn't the way—this isn't meant for you. You can't give in to this darkness."
She startled at the sound of movement and turned to see Denal standing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. "I went to get something to drink. I didn't mean to disturb you. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. We take turns, you know."
"Yes, yes, I know," Maree spluttered. "You didn't disturb me. I was just . . . I was trying to find him."
Denal took a few steps inside. "That thing you do . . . is it . . . some kind of magic?"
"No," Maree answered. "It's a gift. Most of the time." A pause. "Not at the moment, though."
"Can it heal him?"
"No. It lets me know what ails a person just by touching them." She saw Denal looking at her expectantly, hoping for more explanation. So, she obliged him. "But this time, it's not giving me the answers I need."
"You don't know what's wrong with him?"
"I know what's wrong with him physically," Maree replied. "I know his body is healing, yet he isn't moving any closer to recovery."
Denal was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes the damage isn't just physical."
Denal stood beside the bed and placed his cup on the window sill. "The captain would never give up. I've seen firsthand how . . . stubborn he can be. Whatever damage you're talking about, it could never be enough to keep him down. We all mean too much to him for him to quit."
Maree regarded him with a bit of wonder. "I believe you." A pause. "But there is something that is draining him as quickly as the cold field is healing him. Eventually, one or the other will win."
Denal hesitated. "I don't suppose the captain ever told you about me."
"No, he didn't."
"I was a part of team that tortured him back in ARC training."
"ARC training?"
"A specialized training for the best troopers," Denal explained. "We had a program that simulated a prisoner-of-war camp, and we tortured the prisoners. It was fairly realistic but under tight control. Until Rex came through. The captain in charge of the program had a personal vendetta against him, and we ended up doing some horrible things to him." He looked her in the eye. "I'm only telling you this because this is how I know that captain never gives up. He fought the whole time, but eventually even he needed some help. Me and my teammate were the ones to break ranks and report what was going on. It took a toll on him, make no mistake. But he emerged from it even stronger than before." A pause. "I can't help but think that . . . it laid the ground for him to survive this ordeal. It showed him what he was capable of enduring. So, whatever it is you can or can't sense from him, I'm telling you that he hasn't given up. And we can't give up either."
Maree was moved by his words, his determination.
"I wish I had met you under other circumstances," she told him. "You have an amazing outlook."
"Outlooks are one thing," Denal replied. "But without action, they're just wishes. You have to be willing to act on your beliefs."
Maree nodded slowly. A few awkward moments of silence followed before she spoke again. "Would you mind, Denal, letting me have this time alone with him?"
"Of course not," Denal replied. "I can come back in an hour—"
"No, that's all right," Maree deferred. "I'd rather have the rest of the night with him."
Denal nodded. "I understand."
And he truly did, for he'd heard the rumors and the stories of the relationship between his captain and this woman. He took his drink and went to the doorway. "Good night. It was nice talking to you."
"You, as well."
Once Denal had left, Maree found herself pacing slowly from one side of the bed to the other.
"He's right. Rex is strong. You can't forget, it was three weeks before Kix regained consciousness, and Rex was hurt much worse . . . I'm being impatient. But I should still be able to feel him in the Skrit-Na. I've been assuming he doesn't want to come back or he's too weak to come back. But what if Denal's right, and he's trying to come back and just needs help?" She shook her head. "General Skywalker tried to reach him and couldn't do it. He said it was the darkness. What is that darkness? And what kind of being can pass through it?" She answered her own question. "No creature of flesh and blood." A realization began to take form in her head. "He's the lure. To get to him, a rescuer would have to go through the darkness . . . and risk being enveloped by it in the process." Out loud, she spoke to the silence around her. "No living being can help him. This is all a trap. But who is the one who set the trap? And who are they trying to capture?"
Regardless of the answers to those questions, the fact that it was Rex who was being made to suffer struck her as the greatest injustice.
Her gaze went to rest on him. Denal's words echoed in her ears.
"You have to be willing to act."
She nodded once. The decision was made.
The rain had picked up to a steady downpour.
But Maree did not let that deter her. She pulled up her hood and went out into the garden that separated the healing rooms from the Taber. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Her shoes and bottom of her frock were becoming soaked and heavy. Every step only seemed to increase the sense of desperation and determination.
Every man who had gone after Rex had risked their lives to save him. He was that important to them. Even Major Swin had taken the chance of destroying her own career.
And now, what risk was Maree willing to take? Her responsibilities to the souls did not preclude her dedication to the living. That went without question. But where was the line? What was one step too far?
"You already know the answer," she said to the pelting drops that accompanied her. She quickened her pace. "You know the answer and you need to act before you change your mind."
She came to the Taber and entered the silence.
Not a single person was present. There were no prayer groups at this hour in the Taber, though they might be gathered in the lesser houses. Only the flickering lights in the wall sconces cast trembling shadows on the walls and pillars. Beneath Maree's feet, the mosaics rolled with life as she passed. She now slowed down, the weight of what she was about to do pressing on heart and stirring up the fear. For solace and encouragement, she looked to the images on the walls. The Domas of previous ages. Mosiacs, frescoes, statues . . . scenes of the Domas with the animal souls under their charges. The unity, the protection, the mutual commitment.
Had those Domas of the past ever thought of doing what Maree was contemplating? Had the circumstance ever arisen for them? Had they ever fallen in love? There was no record of such occurrences, but then again, not every instance of history was recorded.
"I've followed in your footsteps, Sisters," Maree whispered. "Be with me now."
She came to the juncture where the sanctuary met the apse, and here she had to consciously think about keeping her breath even, regulating every step, and fighting down the urge to avert her gaze. But she kept her eyes raised, and as she turned the corner and the statue of Me'Ente Loge came into view, she knew that the reality behind the stone figure was watching her every move.
Would he intervene?
"Forgive me, My Lord," she said softly. "I have to do this. I have the ability to take action. I'm going to."
With that, she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and entered the world of the souls.
As always, they rushed to meet her, their excitement swirling around her in wisps of energy. They would inundate her with their power if she opened herself to them.
And that was her precise intention.
She slowly raised her arms wide and gave wordless permission.
The force of the incoming energy felt like the complete replenishment of everything her physical being had lost over the centuries. She felt strength and vigor and life more vibrant than anything she had ever experienced. The skills and talents and nature of so many diverse beings . . . it was intoxicating.
Yet, she knew her purpose. The souls could give endlessly. She could receive endlessly. But that was not why she had chosen this course of action. At another wordless command, she closed the conduit that was her own body.
"Thank you, my friends. For all you have done for me, I can never repay you."
She took a long moment to relish the feeling of being in their presence.
It was time for her to leave this world. Possibly forever.
Anakin stumbled back into the alcove.
The Taber had been empty when he'd entered over an hour ago. The place had seemed to call him, to offer him the quiet and aloneness that he'd been seeking. His hopes had turned dark and forlorn. For all the progress Rex had made, he was still dying. It was a loss Anakin wanted to contemplate alone. The time to be around the others would come later. But right now, he chose to face the prospect of Rex's death in the silence and mysterious ambience of this place.
Then Doma Maree had entered.
And something amazing had happened.
The entire place had seemed to . . . it was as if time and space had disappeared. Millions, perhaps billions or more, of filamentary figures floated into view. Running, jumping, sleeping, birthing, playing, dying. It was beyond his comprehension.
There in the center of it all, Doma Maree hovered with her arms outstretched.
Flashes of light penetrated her body. There was a beautiful, mesmerizing aspect to what was happening; yet Anakin could also sense that something was not right. Something was happening that should not be.
Then it was over, and as Anakin came back to himself and stumbled into the alcove, he caught sight of Maree leaving the Taber at a quick clip.
He went after her.
"Doma Maree!"
Maree had not gone a hundred yards before hearing a voice behind her. She turned anxiously, not wanting anything to stand in her way at this point.
"General Skywalker." She was surprised to see him.
Anakin caught up to her and stopped a few steps away. He did not hesitate. "What happened back there?"
With a momentary stab of fear and horror, Maree realized she had not, in fact, been alone in the Taber. There had been a witness to what she had done. But what was truly alarming was that Maree's entrance into Finirest was not something visible to others. To onlookers, Maree would have appeared as a still figure, and the souls would not have been seen at all.
But General Skywalker was a Jedi. A man extraordinarily powerful with the Force—even Maree could sense that. Clearly, that affinity had given him some manner of seeing beyond what others could discern.
Still, Maree could not let those concerns waylay her. The only question now was whether or not the general would try to stop her.
When Maree did not answer right away, Anakin went on. "I saw what you did. It was like watching two worlds come together."
Maree was silent a moment longer, before simply stating, "I must go." As she turned to leave, she heard Anakin's voice, and his question made her realize that she could not simply walk away from this conversation.
"You took their energy, didn't you?"
With her back still to him, she replied, "I didn't take it." Now, she faced him, and while her countenance was serene, Anakin could sense the agitation in her demeanor. "They gave it. They are always willing to give their energy."
"You're going to try and use it to save him." Anakin posed the question as a statement.
"If I can."
Not surprisingly, Anakin found both relief and a certain uneasiness in this response. Relief that a greater power was being brought to bear in the effort to save Rex; uneasiness in the idea that such a use of power was not permitted and yet the Doma was casting aside that prohibition.
"I'm not going to try to stop you," Anakin began carefully. "But you know that . . . if Rex finds out you broke your vows and risked your position to save his life, it will be devastating for him. Is that a risk you're willing to take? You may save his life only to lose him."
"I am already risking everything. I would sacrifice his love in order to save his life, because you—you and those men out there, you need him," Maree replied. "More than any of you realize."
"You're right, but Rex wouldn't want to be the one who causes you to . . . to disobey your god. "
"Rex need not ever know."
Anakin narrowed his gaze. "Keeping secrets isn't a good way to show someone you love them."
"Nor is letting them die when you have the chance to save them." With that, Maree left him.
Her words struck a note deep inside Anakin. How long had he wished just such a power existed? The power over death. Now, here it was before him, and he fully understood the Doma's desire to use it. He would not go after her. He would not try to stop her. Instead, he hoped for her success.
Maree closed the door behind her with strict instructions that she did not wish to be disturbed as she sat with Rex.
"I will be performing the Skrit-na. Nothing must disturb my concentration."
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was noting the truism of how one act of disobedience so readily leads to another. First, she had taken energy from the souls. Now, she was lying.
All for love of one man.
Would there be forgiveness of her transgressions?
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
She could only hope in the mercy of the Creator.
In her hurried flight to return to the healing rooms, she'd kept her conviction, her self-assurance that this was the good and decent thing to do. Now, standing just over the threshold, staring at Rex bathed in the light of the cold field, she felt the first fragmentation of her resolve.
"If you do this for him, why don't you do it for everyone?" It was a chastising thought.
"Because what's happened to him isn't fair. He's being used as a pawn in someone else's game, and it's not right." But that would not hold. "There have been thousands upon thousands whose deaths you could say were unfair."
"He still has a role to play." Again, she rebuked herself. "Are you the arbiter of such things? Would you put yourself in the place of the Creator? You have to have a better reason than that to forsake everything you've stood for over the centuries."
She crossed the floor very slowly and stood next to the bed. She turned off the cold field.
"Then I can only say that I'm doing this out of love. If that isn't a good enough reason, then I ask forgiveness."
She reached out and placed her hand on his chest; and taking a steadying breath, she lowered her head, closed and eyes and directed the release of energy. She could feel it leaving her body, flooding through her palm and fingers in a rush of euphoric power.
After several seconds, the air around her tingled and vibrated: the first indication that something was wrong. She opened her eyes and startled at the sight. The room was filled with the milky energy of the souls she had been attempted to impart. They swirled above and around her. A quick glance showed that, where her hand rested over his heart, not a shred of energy was entering.
"What—what are you doing?!" she gasped. "I brought you here to save him!" She pressed her hand down harder against his chest, mentally commanding the souls to do her bidding; and yet the energy continued to deflect into the room.
Could it be that . . . that the darkness was strong enough to repel the souls' energy? Was such a thing even possible? Had she made a mistake in exposing these souls to the darkness? Could the darkness be corrupting these souls as a result of her actions?
She withdrew her hand and stepped away from the bed. "Return to me!" she commanded. "Return to me!"
No soul returned to her.
Instead, she watched as the swirls of energy grew tighter, like water draining down a funnel, until the very last was but a hair-thin strand. And as that last strand disappeared, the figure of Me'Ente Loge appeared. One outstretched arm ended with his opened palm, and into his hand, the final remnant disappeared.
Maree dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She had failed. She had failed Rex, failed her Order, failed the Souls. But the greatest trespass had been against her Creator, and now the deity had sent His Messenger to exact a fitting punishment.
"Forgive me, forgive me," she moaned into her hands. "I know I've sinned against you, but . . . I didn't do it for myself."
Me'Ente Loge, his veiled countenance unreadable, spoke with a tone of admonishment. "Oh, such a show of piety when clearly you have no fear of me or the Creator."
"I only wanted him to live," Maree insisted. "Why—why wouldn't you let me save him?"
"Is that what the souls are for?"
Maree wiped her face but would not look at the angel. "They can do it. They offer themselves."
"They are animal souls. That is in their nature," Me'Ente Loge replied. "If that nature were abused or taken advantage of, no living soul would ever leave the temporal world." A pause. "And this world is only a step along the way."
Maree shook her head helplessly. "I know all that, My Lord; but it still isn't fair. He is a good man and deserves better than this."
"You are so sure that his life here would be so much better than the life beyond?" the Messenger challenged.
Maree had no answer to that question.
Me'Ente Loge picked up on the meaning of her silence. "So, this is not about him at all. This is about you and your desires. This is about your fear of losing him."
"No, no, it's not that—"
"Let me show you what awaits him in the next life."
Maree was so surprised at this statement that she raised her head to look upon Me'Ente Loge's veiled face; but what she saw instead drew her to her feet in awe.
Human souls. Too many to contemplate. At every moment in their lives.
It was Finirest.
"How—how—" Maree stammered, turning to look about her.
"What limits have I other than those the Creator has set for me?" Me'Ente Loge replied. "The many realms of Finirest are open to me. Until the Final Judgment when all shall be as one, every soul in every Finirest is under my watch. Human. Animal. Even those entities which appear not to possess life. Everything has an animating spirit. And each individual spirit is part of the whole, the one. You, my child, forget that your realm is only one small part of a much larger work of creation." A pause. "You forget that human souls have a life on the other side of the veil." He swept out his arm and from the multitude of souls, all disappeared except . . .
Clones.
Thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands.
Maree was speechless.
"Did you not expect to see the souls of the clones in Finirest?"
"I—I—of course, I expected they would be in Finirest, but I never pictured what it would be like," Maree fumbled through her answer.
"These souls inhabited the physical bodies of cloned beings," Me'Ente Loge explained. "But each soul bears its own unique markings from the Creator. There are no 'clone' souls here. Only the souls of men."
A small cluster of men stood out like a three-dimensional image.
"That's . . . Hardcase and Fives . . .and March!"
"Soldiers you have met. These are the others ones your captain loves."
"Can they see me?"
"I can permit it."
Maree hesitated. "Is it wise?"
Me'Ente Loge laughed gently. "What care you of wisdom at this point? You have cast aside council for passion."
Maree accepted the criticism with humility. At length, she simply said, "They look happy."
"They are at peace," the messenger replied. "But they wait. All creation waits. Even in Finirest, all creation waits. You know that from the animal souls."
"Yes, I know."
"I show you this to remind you that the temporal world is a place in time and space where the soul is in a constant battle. Pain and suffering are permitted in that world. Not so in Finirest and beyond." The dimension of Finirest began to fade and the hospital room took its place. "It is not for you to choose when this temporal life ends. "
"Show me what to do," Maree implored.
"That is not the way of it. Every action, every thought, the past, present and future . . . they are all before the Creator as one eternal present. You know this. Your decision is yours. That the Creator already knows that decision is for Him alone to ponder. "
"He knew I was going to try and use the souls."
"And He knew I was going to stop you."
Maree felt her body trembling. "Then there is nothing left for me to do, nothing more I can do."
"There are always pathways. Even a dead end presents a choice," Me'Ente Loge replied. "The first step to acting prudently is taking good council. The only way to develop good council is to cultivate wisdom. Wisdom is acquired through understanding. And understanding comes from knowledge." Me'Ente Loge moved to stand beside the bed. "If you would save this man, let it be through your own devices. Find a way to reach him that is within your own power. And start by knowing him. You are fearful of your own gift."
Maree felt her throat tighten. She knew of what the messenger was speaking. "I use the Skrit-na for its intended purpose."
"The intended purpose is to detect what ails a man," Me'Ente Loge pushed back. "You do not know what ails this man. His body heals but his spirit does not. You do not know why, because you do not know him."
"I made a promise to myself hundreds of years ago that I—" Maree began, but Me'Ente Loge cut her off.
"—would never look into the eternity of a man again. It was a promise made to yourself but not a tenet of the faith or a rule of your position."
"But you yourself said, My Lord, that the future is for only the Creator to know."
Me'Ente Loge held out his hand to beckon her. "Stubborn child, that is not what I said, as you well know. Certainly once a man makes a decision, everyone can see what that decision is. I referred to the Creator's knowledge of that decision before it is manifest. Using the Skrit-Na to look into this man's eternity only show you those things which the Creator has deemed open to you. Come. "
Maree approached the bed, but as she reached out to put her hand on Rex's forehead, Me'Ente Loge took her hand and guided it to rest over Rex's heart. "This is not something that resides in the body. It resides in the soul," he said.
Maree looked up and tried to imagine the countenance behind the veil. "Do you know what ails him?"
"I do."
"Can you not tell me?"
"That is not how the Creator has ordained this moment."
Maree gave a dismal nod. She closed her eyes and felt Me'Ente Loge's hand settle on top of hers. The thought that he was going to be with her as she attempted this brought a measure of comfort.
She closed her eyes and opened herself to the Skrit-na.
The darkness could hide him in the present moment.
But it could not hide moments of time that made up the scroll of his life.
There was no linear progression, no rhyme or reason. The scenes appeared in every corner of Maree's vision in much the same way she saw the lives of the animal souls in her charge.
And yet this was different, but she was not surprised. The complexity of a human existence far outpaced the complexity of an animal existence. It was like looking through windows into different episodes in Rex's life. It felt almost voyeuristic, and Maree recognized, with some degree of humility and embarrassment, that it felt that way because she long neglected the mastery of this element of the Skrit-na.
As such, there was something wondrous about what was going on around her, even though a number of the images were disturbing.
A teenaged Rex – brown-haired yet somehow unmistakable even in his sameness – doing pushups while other identical boys milled about in the background. Another glance showed a baby, an embryo in a glass tube. Yet another image floated past of Rex on his knees, cradling a dying Fives.
An evening of leisure – or so it seemed – with Cody. Laughing and looking at holograms from some ceremony apparently gone awry. Sitting in a chair as a droid cut his now-blond hair.
General Skywalker. Scene after scene with General Skywalker, fighting side-by-side. Scheming, perhaps. And other times, simply in each other's presence. They were more prominent than other moments. Maree wondered if they'd played a greater role in making Rex the man he had become.
And then her attention was drawn to another vision.
Rex stood on a cliff's edge, looking out over a vast forest below. The moon was large before him, but it wasn't the moon that held him mesmerized. It was a great bird. Maree could hear Rex's voice.
"Lunar hawk. Look at him. He's amazing. Now, that's freedom. True freedom."
It was as if he were speaking from a dream. But it wasn't the words themselves that drew Maree closer into the vision. It was a tacit understanding that the words were more than they appeared on the surface. They were an expression of his own vulnerability, a rare instance of willingness to let his guard down.
And then the true catalyst of the moment came into view.
Cody, standing beside him on the cliff. The picture of confidence and . . . almost guardianship. This was a moment that Rex honored and valued above others. And it was because of Cody.
"Look at him riding the updrafts. He can sail like that with no effort . . . " Rex went on.
"Oh, I'm sure there's effort that we can't see."
But as quickly as the scene appeared, another burst in to take its place.
A cell of some sort. Rex was pointing one of his pistols at a figure kneeling on the floor with his back to him and his four arms bound together.
"You're shaking, aren't you? What are you waiting for? The Umbarans are getting closer," the figure taunted.
"I—I have to do this."
"You can't do it, can you? Eventually, you'll have to do the right thing—"
A blaster bolt cut the sentence short.
Maree looked away. She did not see who fired the fatal shot.
But the scene that next came into view sent a flush through her body. Her breath caught in her throat. At first, she thought she must not be seeing clearly. But the longer she watched, the more she could not deny what she was seeing.
The throes of passion. A raw, visceral thing so powerful that Maree could feel the desire and desperate need as if the moment were actually happening around her.
His naked body she knew well. But this was not the sterile observation of a religious leader or a member of the medical profession. This was not the horrifying and pitiful scene of a body grossly abused. This was a body in its prime, in full vigor, absorbed in ecstasy.
His body.
And this was the observation of a woman mesmerized and moved not only by the sight and feel and smell of that body; but by the depths of his ardor, the way he relished every sensation, the ravishing attention he lavished on the body beneath him.
Her body.
She hardly needed to remind herself that such an encounter had most certainly not taken place. Yet, the woman in the scene was her. While this was an alarming prospect, still Maree continued to watch. She watched his hands caress and explore those parts of her body that had never known another's touch. She watched his lips brush against her breasts with a delicacy that was in stark contrast to the urges that were driving the rest of him. She heard the sound of his breathing, heavy and interspersed with moans of excitement and arousal. The movement of his body was tantalizing. It was not the usual strongly controlled, precise and measured clockwork that he displayed as a matter of course and discipline. Quite the contrary, it was unbound, wild, almost fumbling, as if he were unencumbered by prohibitions. It was a novel experience to him. It was new. It was intoxicating.
Truth be told, it was new to Maree as well. Of course, she knew the mechanics of the act. But over the centuries, she had never participated in it. She had often wondered how it would feel. After all, she might be a holy leader, but she was still a woman with all the yearnings and dreams and attractions that came with it. If she were to judge from the scene playing out before her, there must have been no greater encounter in the universe than Rex's lovemaking, which struck her as odd given that he could not possibly be very experienced . . . and she definitely was not. Yet, the union was perfect.
Only it wasn't.
There were instances of haze, of unclear or undefined physical attributes.
"That's me, but it isn't me," she whispered. "And we've never—"
A shadow drew her gaze away from the scene that had held her mesmerized. But when she looked to see what it was, there was nothing there.
"You left me behind."
That was Rex's voice. Whirling around, Maree saw him standing, wearing a set of worn armor but without a helmet. He was older . . . perhaps forty or so. Still handsome. Still fit. Still beautiful despite the anguish in his expression.
"I did it for your own good. I knew something was going to happen, and I didn't want you to be caught up in it."
An unfamiliar man's voice anwered, but Maree could see the speaker. Only a shadow.
"And now I want you to come back. I need you, Rex. I need someone I can depend on, someone with a good head on his shoulders," the voice went on.
"Go back and be part of . . . what? Of the Empire?"
"Of the 501st. Of Vader's Fist."
An ear-piercing scream cut through the moment.
"Rex!"
And suddenly . . .
Ahsoka.
As a grown woman.
Stunningly beautiful and composed.
"I promise," she whispered. "I promise . . . I promise."
Maree was coming to the verge of a revelation. A sense of dread began to descend.
She abruptly drew her hand back and the Skrit-na was broken.
Me'Ente Loge was still standing beside her. He did not speak.
At last, Maree stammered, "There—I saw things—there were things that never happened." She added emphatically. "And never will."
"They have all happened or will happen," came the definitive response.
"No, no, that will never happen," Maree insisted.
"I know what you are referring to," the Messenger said, and Maree could almost detect a smile behind the veil. "But do you limit a man's existence only to his actions? A man is also his dreams, his desires, his hopes."
Maree was flabbergasted. "That was . . . that was his desire?"
"It was."
"But that woman . . . she wasn't . . .she wasn't completely me. "
"She is you. Do not fault him for not knowing how to imagine what he has not seen."
This remark actually made Maree blush.
Me'Ente Loge continued. "You are genuinely surprised to have seen that he harbors such thoughts. That is, in itself, surprising."
"Why do you say that?" Maree was almost outraged at the idea.
"Because your feelings towards him are much the same."
Maree opened her mouth to deny the charge, but no words were forthcoming. She could not deceive Her Creator or His Messenger. She could not even lie to herself.
"Yes," she conceded at last. "But my position forbids it."
"It does."
She hesitated. "I saw moments from the future—his future. So, he survives this?"
"He does," came the response, spoken without a hint of emotion, not a clue of meaning. "Because of the actions you take. And the actions of others."
"What actions?"
"I need not say," Me'Ente Loge replied. "But remember this, child: actions alone are not the summation of virtue. There is intent behind every action. That is more important than the outcome itself. He lives. That is all you know."
"My Lord, now I will be second-guessing every choice I make," Maree lamented.
"You have centuries of knowledge. You know good from evil. You have a properly formed conscience. What more do you need that you do not already possess? Falling in love does not change any of those things."
"You say I am in love with him."
"You are. There is nothing wicked in that. He is a good man who has suffered much."
Maree sighed and shook her head in confusion. "My Lord, how is any of this going to help him? I can use the Skrit-Na to see these moments in his life, but it's like looking at pictures. I can see them but I can't get into them. I still can't reach him where he is right now."
"You have the Skrit-na," Me'Ente Loge replied. "And you have the means to enter those pictures—"
"My Lord, I can't enter those pictures—not even in the realm of my own souls," Maree protested.
"You have the means," came the stern response. "And you have others who love him . . . even more than you do."
With that, the spirit dissipated and was gone.
Maree was alone with Rex, left to puzzle over the Messenger's words.
And although she felt a vague sense of relief that Rex apparently was going to survive this ordeal, she felt more at a loss than before. Her actions. The actions of others. Could those actions, in saving Rex, bring about other evils?
Heady and distressing thoughts.
But for the moment, she could take practical actions. Actions that had no possibility of ulterior or wicked motives.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead before turning the cold field back on.
She pushed the nurse call button.
"Ask Fels au-Linus to come to Rex's room."
"Yes, Doma."
Maree silently said a word of thanks to Denal. "It's time to stop waiting for things to happen and make them happen ourselves."
Nice little bow to Denal and the tie-in to his role in ARC training.