I really didn't mean to take five months to finish this chapter, but I hope the fact that it's the longest one in the entire story makes up for the delay. After this, there's only one more!
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Chapter Twenty-Four
Dying, it turned out, took forever.
The blade that had burned through Anakin Skywalker's stomach had also burned away his ability to think in any linear, orderly way. Just as surely as his life leeched out of him, so did his concept of time; and he spent days— months— years just lying there among the debris and alien vegetation, his face tickled by long stems of grass.
Naboo, he thought, and he could feel the warm sun shining on him as Padmé called his name, as he played dead in the field. He couldn't remember laughing as much as he did that day, pulling her down to join him in the grass, heart pounding at how close she was, and how beautiful, and wasn't it a good thing he wasn't really dead after all?
He'd never really laughed like that again, not during the war, not even in the safety of his wife's embrace. He would have liked to laugh like that, one more time. To see her smile and laugh, too.
A laser blast sizzled overhead, and cerulean light sparked in the gloom. What world was this? What battle? There had been so many, all piling up, one on top of the other. It never ended; it just kept going and going, and all he'd wanted was for it to stop, but then what happened to the Hero With No Fear once the war was over? A force of nature, of destruction. Why bring balance when he was all but born for war?
What was his destiny, after all? To bring peace, or to fall? To commit every horrible crime he knew himself to be capable of? To die? His choices had all led him here, hadn't they? Did he even have a choice anymore? Or was it all just an illusion, a predetermined path laid out long before he was born? The path of the Chosen One and his scions, forever doomed.
Anakin…
The voice was a whisper, one he knew he should recognize. Steady and patient and warm. An old voice, he thought. A tune half-remembered. Light reflecting off metal, the glint of sunset on a departing starship. He stood watching as Obi-Wan boarded that ship without him. Another battle to fight, far, far away from home. He hadn't realized how much he needed his best friend, his brother. That was the last time he ever saw him, wasn't it?
Anakin, listen…
Thunder roared down from the heavens, herald for the lightning splintering across the sky. The storms on Tatooine were dangerous when they did come, and he always knew not to stand out in the open. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could feel the lightning crackling with dark, unnatural intensity, electrifying not only the air around it, but the Force itself. He remembered the first time he'd ever been struck by it, the way it jolted through his body, burning way down deep. Not just a physical assault, but a mental and spiritual one as well.
Anakin… open your eyes, old friend…
His vision was hazy as he cracked open one eye, then the other. He could make out the long, jagged tendrils of lightning arcing through the air, wrapping around—
Ben.
Anakin blinked and squinted his eyes to focus past the haze, and the blurred images before him sharpened enough to see. The lightning ripped into his grandson, dragging him down; but he kept digging in, kept trying to stand and fight back. Jacen was a few meters away, his back to Anakin as he advanced on Ben, who lay near Allana and the Embrace of Pain.
Another blast of lightning struck Ben, and still he refused to go down. His lightsaber was absorbing some of the energy, though not nearly enough, and the blade sparked with white-hot intensity under the assault. Electricity fractured around the beleaguered Jedi, and Anakin heard a single agonized scream as Ben fell to the ground, unable to rise, his lightsaber lying just beyond the reach of his fingertips.
The lightning ceased, and the cavernous throne room was eerily silent. Jacen's footfalls were soft against the moss and grass-covered floor. He stopped in front of Ben's outstretched hand and stood over him for several long seconds; then he swept his foot to one side and kicked the lightsaber away from Ben. It disappeared into a pile of rubble somewhere in the darkness.
Jacen reached down and took Ben's face in his hands, and he whispered something Anakin couldn't hear. After a moment, he stood, and he lifted Ben in the air with him, holding him close. The young Jedi's side was drenched in blood, and he didn't fight back against Jacen's grip. Then the Sith let out a strangled growl and flung Ben across the room where he landed hard in a heap of durasteel and coral. Ben managed to stumble out of the wreckage, but no sooner was he out than the lightning struck again. He cried out and collapsed onto the ground, writhing in agony.
Anakin could barely feel any part of his body, and yet Ben's pain washed over him and through him, becoming his own. Wasn't this what he'd always feared, that one day his best wouldn't be good enough, and that he would have to watch someone he loved die? Their fates – his and his entire family's – written before he was born, written in the stars, even. Stars that would one day burn out, just like everything else. All of his choices meaningless in the face of his destiny…
No, he felt himself whisper from someplace deep within, a dying ember still yearning for the flame. After all, what was his destiny? His choices had all led him here, to this moment. His choices… and his love for his family, past and future.
Maybe it wasn't one or the other, destiny or choice. Maybe his destiny was – maybe it always had been – simply a matter of choosing.
For the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker surrendered totally and absolutely to the Force, trusting it beyond his own will and desires as he relinquished his ego and his need for control. He felt it course through him and around him, sweeping him up in its current; but instead of trembling under its might or thirsting for its power, he basked in the totality of its warmth and serenity and light – and he found himself buoyed by it, carried toward the dark maelstrom of grief and pain that whirled and raged before him.
Anakin reached out with his remaining hand and began to drag himself across the ruined throne room, into the heart of the storm.
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The worst thing about dying wasn't the pain, Ben realized. It was knowing that he would never see his family again, that he would never have a chance to say goodbye or tell them just how much he loved them.
Lightning ripped through him again, rendering his legs completely useless. He dropped to his knees before falling face first onto the floor, and when he did manage to look up, he could barely see anything through the storm of dark energy. Jacen's face, like most of the room, was a blur of shadow illuminated only briefly by each flash of lightning. Ben stretched his right hand out across the floor, searching for his fallen lightsaber. He sensed it very faintly, but with the electricity coursing through his body he couldn't focus enough to retrieve it.
He was going to die here. Anakin was going to die if he hadn't already, and Allana would suffer a fate worse than death before following in her father's footsteps.
Ben extended his will to his lightsaber, trying once again to wrap mental fingers around it. If he was about to die, he had to try… he had to do something…
Too much, he thought. Too clouded and too hot and too strong… the lightning filled his mind, burning away everything, even the most basic impulse to survive. The lightsaber slipped right through his telekinetic grip, and his hand dropped to the deck. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…
Distantly, he heard an enraged and disbelieving shout, and the violent onslaught of Force lightning ceased. Ben gasped for breath and struggled to lift his head; when he did, he saw Anakin standing with his feet planted wide, holding Jacen in a headlock. His grandfather leaned back with all his strength, lifting Jacen off of the floor. Anakin's eyes met his and went wide.
"Now, Ben!"
He would never fully understand how he was able to stand at that moment – maybe it was the will of the Force, or maybe it was the sheer stubbornness he'd inherited from both sides of his family – but stand he did. Ben held out his hand and called his lightsaber to him as he staggered forward. The weapon connected with his palm, igniting in a flash of cerulean light.
Jacen fought frantically against their grandfather's grip, pouring lightning through both of his captor's arms; the electricity arced through the remains of Anakin's prosthetic limb and snaked across his torso, but he refused to let go. As Ben ran, he raised his lightsaber over his shoulder like a dagger, aiming it for his former master's heart.
In the seconds before he struck, Ben's eyes met Jacen's. There were many things he expected he might see in those dark depths: hatred or rage or fear, or maybe shock, disbelief, panic.
He wasn't expecting relief.
Ben plunged the lightsaber into his cousin's chest, and Jacen and Anakin gasped as the blade passed through their bodies. Jacen's hands fell to his sides, and when Anakin finally let go, they dropped to the floor in unison.
Ben released the hilt of his lightsaber and collapsed to his knees beside the fallen men. Jacen was breathing rapidly, eyes staring straight up at the destroyed ceiling of the throne room. His lips moved, and Ben realized he was whispering.
"I tried— I tried to fix it—" His eyes found Ben's, searching. "Tell Roan… tell Allana, I didn't— I never meant—"
One hand rose slightly off the ground, shaking; and Ben stared at it for a moment before reaching out to grasp it in his own. An image flickered in Ben's mind's eye, of his cousin cradling Allana in his arms for the very first time.
Then Jacen Solo – the traitor, the fallen hero, the man who had helped save the galaxy, once upon a time – breathed his last. At the same moment, Ben heard a strange shrieking sound behind him. He turned to see the Embrace of Pain release Allana.
Ben crawled over to her and pulled her into his arms, checking her vitals. Her breathing was steady and her pulse surprisingly normal. He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. He would have given anything to spare her from the Embrace, but it was over now. It was all over.
Behind him, Anakin groaned. Ben laid Allana down gently and dragged himself back over to his grandfather's side. The saber had entered through the center of his abdomen, leaving a charred wound in its wake, a twin for the one Jacen had inflicted earlier. Anakin looked up at Ben and smiled weakly, indicating the various wounds that riddled his body. "Luminous beings are we, Ben. Not this crude matter."
It was then that Ben realized his eyes were damp with tears. He tried to return the smile, to let him know that everything would be okay. "I've got to get you to a medic," he said with more confidence than he felt, staring at the holes in Anakin's stomach.
"It's too late for that."
Ben shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. "No, I can still save you."
Anakin reached out with his flesh and blood hand and gripped Ben's arm just below the elbow. "You already have." His grandfather let out a faint laugh. "You know, I finally figured something out."
"Oh yeah?" Ben tried to smirk in response, but it felt more like a grimace. "What's that?"
Anakin's words came between struggling breaths. "I always wanted to be the hero… but that's not why the Force sent me here. I came here… to save the real hero, so that he could save everyone else."
Ben raised one eyebrow, ignoring the rapid rise and fall of Anakin's chest as he strained for air. "You think the Force sent you here to save me?"
Anakin gave the faintest of shrugs. "I'd say… it's a solid theory." His eyelids drooped for a few seconds, and he gulped down another breath. "Tell Allana… I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye."
Ben looked away, examining the wounds again. There had to be a solution, something he hadn't thought of. "No… no, you're going to be fine—"
"Ben."
He met his grandfather's eyes and swallowed hard. "All right. I will."
Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, wincing with every shallow breath as his fingers tightened around Ben's arm. "I wish I could have met them," he whispered. His head rolled back, and his grip slackened. Ben looped one arm under his shoulders and pulled him close.
"Come on, Gramps, stay with me. Stay with me." He looked around at the ruined throne room, at Jacen's body, at Allana lying unconscious nearby. "You can't leave me," he whispered.
Anakin's eyes opened ever so slightly, and he smiled up at Ben. "I'll never… leave you."
His eyes closed again, and he took one more breath; and as that breath left him, the last of his life went with it. Ben stared down at Anakin, waiting for the shock wave, or the black hole, or the collapse of a dying star – but there was only silence, and the body in his arms was still.
"No," he whispered. He shook his grandfather, gently at first, then harder when there was no response. "No, no, no… please, no… come on, wake up!" He crushed Anakin to his chest, and he felt a great sob rising up in him, constricting his insides as it clawed its way into his throat. It seemed to come from someplace deep down, buried under years and years of pain and loss and now, after everything, set free.
"Please," he choked out, rocking back and forth, still holding on. "Please."
As if in answer, he felt something shift in his arms; when he looked down, Anakin's body had vanished, and he was left holding an empty tunic. Every carefully constructed defense crumbled in the wake of his grief, and Ben bent his head to bury his face in the cloth, finally allowing himself to weep.
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Arden wasn't really sure what sort of diversion to expect as she stood huddled together with the group of frightened Jedi children. One hand clutched her blaster tight while the other squeezed the hand of a small girl with dark curly hair. A few paces away, two soldiers were supporting the Jedi healer Orion Tivas, and the remaining members of Beta group had taken up positions around the children. Elias and Ames stood near the entrance to the medical wing, the hum of their lightsabers filling the silence.
"Don't worry," Arden bent down to whisper to the little curly-haired girl. She hesitated a moment before adding, "The Force is with us. We're going to make it."
The girl nodded silently and tucked in closer to Arden's side. Then there was a deafening boom and a metallic grinding sound, and the deck quaked violently beneath them. Arden was nearly thrown to her knees from the force of it; she caught the girl against her and fought to keep them both upright.
One of the soldiers stumbled forward and grabbed Elias by the shoulder. "Those are Alpha's detonators!" she shouted above the noise, and another explosion ripped through the ship at nearly the same instant, sending everyone careening to one side of the corridor.
Elias raised a hand toward the ceiling, and it looked to Arden as if he was anchoring himself in place with an invisible tether. "Time to go!" he shouted. He deactivated his lightsaber and used his other hand to Force pull Artoo over to the terminal beside the door. The old astromech whistled a response that struck Arden as being completely unfazed – if they made it out of here alive, she would definitely have to ask Ben about the little droid's history with combat – and went to work on the blast door.
By the time the door opened, the long hallway before them was bathed in the crimson glow of emergency lighting, and warning sirens echoed loudly off every durasteel surface. They advanced carefully at first, looking for the troopers who had pursued them earlier; but when it became clear that their enemy had abandoned the corridor, they picked up speed. Another detonation shuddered through the Eradicator, and a couple of the Rebel soldiers stopped to scoop up the youngest of the children in their arms. Arden holstered her blaster and did the same with the little girl beside her.
She caught fragments of chatter through her comlink as she ran: some unintelligible shouting, one member of Alpha group giving a countdown, and Jysella Horn ordering everyone to run for the Daybreak. Arden kept her eyes on Elias's back as they sprinted through the Star Destroyer's corridors. They were going to make it, they were going to make it, they had to make it…
The hangar was on fire when they reached it, a ceiling-high wall of flames separating them from the Daybreak. Arden wondered if it had been caused by the Rebel explosives, the battle outside the ship, or if this was the result of Kohr enthusiastically trying to hold off the Sith. The girl in her arms shied away from the heat of the fire, but Arden recalled her first time witnessing a Jedi in action on Heibic, and she smiled to herself.
"Watch this," she whispered to the little girl.
The child peeked her head out from Arden's shoulder just as Elias and Ames stepped right up to the wall of flames and spread their arms wide. The fire parted almost instantly, and Beta group rushed through the breach. Arden caught Elias's eyes as she followed after the others; he shook his head and shot her a tired grin.
As Arden guided the little girl to the cargo hold along with the other children, she heard a muffled victory cry from the direction of the cockpit and turned to see Jysella and her team coming up the ramp.
"Elias, get us out of here!" the Jedi Knight shouted, slapping her palm against the controls that operated the ramp. The Daybreak lifted off the hangar floor seconds before the ramp sealed shut; then it turned and blasted out of the Star Destroyer.
Arden set her young charge down on the deck of the cargo hold with the other kids and touched a hand to her cheek. "I'll be back, okay?"
The girl nodded bravely, and Arden raced to take up her gunner position. What she saw when she finally settled behind the dorsal laser cannons took her breath away.
Arden watched in absolute awe as explosions bloomed across the entire length of Eradicator's fearsome black hull. Though the fires went out almost instantly as they met the vacuum of space, they left behind massive plumes of debris that spiraled about the dying Star Destroyer, catching several passing Sith fighters in the process.
"Something's happening," Elias said, in that distant way she'd started to associate more and more with his use of the Force. "Their fleet, it feels… off."
Through the viewport, Arden saw the Mon Cal cruiser Harbinger and two dreadnaughts advance through the Sith line, cannons firing on the enemy's failing flagship as well as the warships that had flanked it – and she thought she understood what Elias had picked up on. Those smaller Star Destroyers seemed paralyzed by the destruction of the Eradicator, and though they attempted to return fire, their attacks lacked coordination or accuracy. What had previously been an angry yet focused swarm was now a panicked, chaotic mob. Helix fighters scrambled to regroup around them, but the Rebel ships tore through them as well, creating smaller fires that vanished just as quickly as the ones still erupting from the Eradicator. They burst like stars across Arden's vision, and that inexplicable hope from earlier burned all the brighter inside her.
Another voice came over the comm, this one strong and assured. "All groups advance," Commander Syal Antilles ordered, and Arden could perfectly imagine the tight, satisfied half-smile on the Corellian woman's face. "Show these bastards the Jedi aren't the only ones favored by the Force."
As Elias flew the Daybreak against the tide of the battle, its crew watched in amazed silence while another Star Destroyer went down, and then another. Dozens of Rebel warships poured through the holes in the blockade, and some of the enemy vessels even turned to flee. Arden had never seen anything like it; she could never have imagined such a thing was possible.
"We're going to win," she whispered to herself, and once again, she wondered if it was her newfound faith in the Force that made her so certain. Whatever it was, she was happy to trust it, wherever it might lead.
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In all his time as Darth Krayt's apprentice, Darth Dominius had never thought to wonder what his master's death would feel like, or whether it would hurt him personally, or if it would shatter the preternatural coordination of their armies. How foolishly naïve it seemed now, that he'd never truly considered such things, that he'd operated under a total and unwavering belief in his master's invincibility.
A rift tore open in his center, and Dominius felt himself suddenly untethered and cast adrift, at the mercy of a current he couldn't hope to understand or control. The hole that Lord Krayt had filled inside him was achingly, hopelessly empty, and the gossamer strands that bound their forces as one were broken, left dangling aimlessly in the wind.
His master… his master…
Veila's blade vanished from sight, and he tipped forward, unbalanced as his own weapon met nothing but air. She swept past him, ducking and twisting to the side, and he felt her boot connect with the back of his knee, cracking loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of the battle. As he went down, he sensed her hands moving, the hilt of her lightsaber pressed against his spine—
Fire seared through his body; he looked down to see her cerulean blade extending from the center of his torso, burning between his ribs. And all he could do at the sight of it was laugh.
Veila deactivated her lightsaber, and Dominius fell backward, breathing hard as he slumped against a mound of rubble. The Jedi walked around and crouched in front of him, calling his saber to her hand. She studied it for a few seconds, then looked up at the sky, watching as fighters screamed across the brilliant blue expanse.
"Was it worth it?" the Jedi Master asked, lowering her gaze to him once more. "All the destruction and chaos and death?"
Dominius sucked in another breath and felt it gurgle in his lungs. "What is anything worth, really? In the end, it all becomes nothing, doesn't it?"
Veila watched him in silence for a moment, green eyes narrowed. Then she spoke again, less harsh than he would have expected from the woman who was said to be half-Yuuzhan Vong.
"Maybe," she said. "I suppose if my life amounted to nothing in the end, I'd try to comfort myself with that notion."
He felt another bitter laugh scrape its way from his throat. His stomach burned from the effort. "I don't seek to comfort myself, Jedi."
"No, because comfort is for the weak, isn't it? Compassion, mercy, love… you're above all of those, aren't you? Because you're strong. You're so strong." She looked down at the hilt of his lightsaber, gripped tight in the palm of her hand, and shook her head. "In the end, what did you achieve?"
He cast about for an answer, realizing in that moment that he didn't have one. His thoughts flitted briefly to the Sith history lessons of his youth, to the tenets of the Banite order that Krayt had brushed aside. One to embody power, the other to crave it… But had he ever truly craved his master's power? Had he ever considered doing anything but what Lord Krayt ordered him to do? Had he ever once dreamed of a time when he wouldn't stand at his master's side? They were going to change the galaxy, together.
Veila watched him, her expression inscrutable, though he thought he saw a flash of pity in her eyes. He hated her for that more than he hated her for anything else. He neither wanted nor needed a Jedi's pity. He was his master's chosen apprentice, the most trusted, the most competent, the strongest. He was—
Alone. Completely and utterly alone, and somehow that made him hate Veila and her pity even more.
He laid his head back against the rubble and looked up at the sky. What had he achieved? With Darth Krayt dead and his forces descending into chaos, what had any of it meant?
"Everything ends," he whispered. "All things die, and become nothing."
"Yes," Veila replied, "all things die. All things end, but that doesn't make them nothing. Everything that lives and dies is bound together. In the Force, everything is one."
Dominius couldn't help laughing at her sentimental rubbish. "What about us? The Sith and the Jedi… are we 'one'?"
"I knew someone once who could have answered that question," she murmured, eyes turning to the sky for a brief instant. "But he's dead now, and neither of us will be able to ask him."
She paused, taking a deep breath. The air around her was touched with sorrow, an echo – he was loath to admit – of what now filled the empty place inside of him.
"What was your name?" she asked softly.
Dominius, he thought to answer, an old reflex he'd drilled into himself over the years. His Sith title wasn't just a rite of passage – it was the name of his truest self, far more real to him than the name he'd been born with. Should he answer her question? He hadn't thought of that name in so long… but it hardly made a difference. He'd chosen his path a long time ago, and a little thing like death wouldn't change it now.
"It doesn't… matter," he answered. "Not anymore."
Veila's eyes flitted down to the hole in his stomach. "No. I suppose it doesn't."
Silence followed, and he tried to slow the rapid pace of his breathing. He felt only a trickle of air enter his lungs with each gasp. Veila watched him, and he stared back for a moment before returning his gaze once more to the sky.
He was still afraid, had always been afraid of so many things. Pain, failure, death—
The sky was so blue. He'd never seen anything like it. So close, like he could reach out and touch it, just once…
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Dominius exhaled, and was still. Tahiri regarded him for a long moment, calm settling over the ruined plaza as the whine of starfighter engines grew distant; then she reached out with one hand and gently closed her enemy's eyes.
Valin joined her a moment later, and she could sense his eyes on her, assessing the extent of her injuries. "You need a medic."
She turned to look at him and offered a small smile, trying not to wince. "Sure. When it's over."
Before Valin could respond, a pile of rubble several meters away began to quake, and a burst of energy sent debris flying into the air in all directions. Valin tensed next to her, while Tahiri's hand twitched around the hilt of Dominius's saber. She remained still, waiting for the violent eruption of duracrete to end.
The debris settled, and standing in silhouette against the brilliantly sunlit sky was Darth Satrus, right arm limp at his side as he staggered forward a step. His eyes found them and went wide, and Tahiri noticed he was bleeding from a head wound, and from other wounds both seen and unseen. He drew a breath that seemed to shake his entire frame as his gaze turned to his fallen comrade. Then, without a word or threat otherwise, he turned and fled.
Tahiri and Valin watched the surviving Sith Lord limp away, until he was little more than a dark blur against the battle-scarred horizon. "Well," Valin said quietly, letting out a long breath. "I guess that means it's over." He paused, then turned toward her, hesitant. "Should we go after him?"
"No." She took as deep a breath as her broken ribs would allow and hooked Dominius's lightsaber to her belt, alongside her own weapon. "Like you said, it's over. Let's go get our family."
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When Darth Ferrus finally regained consciousness, his head was pounding in time to the klaxon blaring overhead. He pulled himself up on his knees and pressed a hand to his temple, as if doing so would drown out the shrill alarm or distract him from the fact that he'd been knocked unconscious for the second time in less than a week and almost definitely had a concussion. He picked his lightsaber up from where it had fallen and was tempted for half a moment to hurl the weapon as hard as he could at the opposite wall. Instead, he swallowed a growl and turned to where Festus lay, still out cold.
His brother's face was riddled with cuts, and Ferrus felt his temper flare at the thought of the Jedi who'd torn through them so easily. The Master had ordered them to guard the tower at all costs, after nearly killing them himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant.
"Is anyone there?" His comlink was undamaged, and he heard Darth Varice's strained voice through it. He almost didn't bother replying, but old habits were hard to kick.
"This is Ferrus."
Despite the tension in her voice, he heard Varice let out the tiniest laugh. "You're alive."
He thought about crushing the comlink in his hand, but he let that urge pass as well. "Of course I'm alive; don't be a moron."
She clicked her tongue at him. "There's no need for name-calling, Lord Ferrus," she said. "We have a situation."
"Oh yeah?" He rolled his eyes and winced at the pain that one small action sent shooting through his head. "What is it now?"
Varice paused, and he heard her take a breath. "A Rebel fleet has just come out of hyperspace over Coruscant."
That sent him snapping to attention. "What?"
"A fleet of Rebel ships," she repeated impatiently. "Led by three Hapan Battle Dragons."
Dammit. That was the fleet that had given the Empire so much trouble in the Inner Rim over the last decade. They were difficult to track and had collected an impressive array of warships since those Battle Dragons had split with the current Queen Mother. But they'd never pushed to the Core before, let alone made a play for Coruscant. How were the Rebels faring at Bakura, if they could afford to spare this much firepower?
"The Master isn't responding to my comms," Varice continued. "We have to do something."
Next to him, Festus began to stir. "Yeah, I'll get back to you."
"Ferrus, wait—"
He switched off the comlink and threw it at the wall, watching with only the barest hint of satisfaction as it shattered into a dozen pieces. He growled and turned his attention to his twin. "Wake up!" he said, shaking him hard. "Wake up, idiot!"
Festus cracked both eyes open and glared up at him. "Who are you calling 'idiot', idiot?"
"Stand up, we've got more company."
"What kind of company?"
"The kind that wants to kill us, what else?"
Festus gave a noncommittal shrug. "That's the best kind, isn't it? So much fun."
"You're pretty mouthy for someone who got thoroughly destroyed and knocked unconscious."
His brother stood slowly, holding onto him for support until he was on two feet. Festus touched his fingers to his face, tracing over his wounds. "He went through me like I was nothing. I might as well have been fighting the Master himself."
"He did it on purpose, you know. We should be dead."
Festus lowered his hand from his injuries, staring off into space. "Where's the Jedi now?"
Ferrus jerked his thumb in the direction of the turbolift. "Guess."
Festus's typical wicked smile returned as he glanced down the corridor, but Ferrus saw something else working behind his brother's eyes.
"That's just perfect," Festus said. "Let them have each other." He called his lightsaber to him and hooked it on his belt.
Ferrus shook his head. After everything else, now his brother was ready to walk away? "What are you saying?"
"I think you know."
"I want to hear you say it out loud."
Festus clicked his tongue. "So picky. Fine, brother mine, I'll put it plainly for you: I'm saying we should get the hell out of here."
Ferrus arched an eyebrow at him. "What about all that talk, about our orders, about following the Master's plan, no matter what?"
Festus reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Ferrus's neck, pulling him close. He made a fist with his other hand and pressed it against Ferrus's chest.
"Survival at any cost, brother," Festus said in a quiet voice. "Or have you forgotten?"
It had been years since Ferrus had allowed himself to think of that cramped storage compartment where they'd hidden from the Sith, where his brother had pulled him close like this and promised they would survive whatever came for them. And they had survived. They'd eventually thrived, even if they'd done so in different ways. For a long time, he'd secretly marveled at the change in his twin, at how thoroughly he'd adapted to their new reality. It was sometimes hard to imagine he'd ever been anything else.
"I haven't forgotten anything," Ferrus said, mouth suddenly dry. "I thought maybe you had."
His twin was silent, still holding on as he stared up at him. "Come on," Festus said after a long moment. "Let's get out of here."
Ferrus shoved his brother's arm away and punched him in the shoulder. "We could take the ship we came in."
"Like I'd trust you to fly us anywhere."
"Then what do you propose?"
"I say we go right out the front door. See what the city has to offer."
Ferrus crossed his arms over his chest. "I should probably mention there's a Rebel battle group incoming, and it's very possible that said city will be a war zone before long."
Festus shrugged. "We've survived worse." A rumble rolled through the temple – the shock from a nearby explosion. Festus tilted his head toward the sound. "Look at that; right on cue."
Ferrus snorted and started down the corridor, then stopped when he noticed his brother hadn't moved. Festus was looking off to one side, eyes losing focus as they rose toward the ceiling.
"What is it?" Ferrus asked. Apart from the explosion, he hadn't sensed anything unusual.
Festus released a slow breath and shook his head. "It's nothing. Let's go." He strode forward, and Ferrus fell into step beside him, grinning a little as he nudged his twin with his arm.
"You're so damn weird."
"Always with the flattery…"
.
.
Ben wasn't exactly sure how he made it to the hangar. He could barely put one foot in front of the other, and yet he managed enough control of the Force to tow Jacen's body behind him while he cradled Allana's still-unconscious form in his arms. Klaxons rang as he passed through the wide hangar entrance, their shrill wail interrupted by the whine of starfighter engines and the distinct percussive impact of detonating bombs. Ben would have allowed himself to be pleased that the Rebel battle group had arrived, if he wasn't currently standing inside their primary target.
None of the Sith had attempted to prevent his ascent to the top of the tower – Jacen's orders, he assumed – and now with the death of their master and the arrival of the Rebels, it appeared that they'd all but deserted their fortress. Ben's X-wing was sitting unharmed where he had left it, though that was only a small comfort. He could probably fit Allana into the cockpit with him, but he would have to leave Jacen behind. He would do it, of course; he wasn't foolish enough to risk their lives over a corpse…
His eyes landed on a larger shuttle, an old Lambda, its ramp open and waiting, and Ben took a deep breath and trudged toward it. Syal would probably kill him for leaving the X-wing behind, but even though he had every reason to abandon Jacen's body, the truth was that he just didn't want to.
Once he was on board the shuttle, Ben laid Allana and Jacen down on opposite sides of the hold and closed the ramp, then made his way to the front of the ship. Bombs continued to rain down around the temple, but the whine of helix engines was increasingly faint. From what he could sense, the Sith had been thrown into a panic upon Jacen's death. Ben wondered if they even realized how deeply entrenched their master's battle meditation was. As the Imperial fleet had once crumbled at Endor in the wake of the Emperor's demise, now it seemed the One Sith were poised for a similar fall.
The shuttle's engines sputtered and hummed as they came online, and Ben took a minute to examine the wounds in his side. They still looked pretty gruesome, and he closed his eyes, calling upon the Force's healing energy to permeate the wounds, stemming further loss of blood until he could attend to them properly. After a few seconds, he felt a shudder, and the engines roared fully to life. He took the controls in his hands and guided the shuttle out of the hangar, narrowly avoiding a couple of X-wings as they circled the temple.
The complex around the Sith fortress was ablaze, smoke billowing from it in massive plumes, and only a few enemy fighters remained in the sky. Ben wondered if the others had been destroyed or if they, too, had abandoned the temple. The rest of the city appeared largely untouched by the chaos, and though he sensed a sober, apprehensive air had fallen over the planet, there was a glimmer of cautious hope beneath it all.
Ben transmitted his security clearance to the Rebel fighters sweeping past him, and within minutes they had patched him through to the man in charge of the entire battle group.
"Ben Skywalker," the voice on the comm said with a low chuckle. "Commander Antilles said to expect you."
Ben breathed a shaky sigh of relief. "Admiral Darklighter," he replied, his own voice not quite so steady. "Thanks for not blowing me up."
"Well, I figured you'd probably had enough of that from the Sith…" There was a pause, and when the admiral spoke again there was a note of concern in his voice. "Son, if you require medical attention, Resilient is standing by…"
Ben winced and looked back at Allana before leaning forward to search his scope for the medical frigate's location among the cluster of Rebel ships that had entered the system. "Thank you, sir; I think I'll take you up on that."
"Anything else I can do for you?"
His thoughts turned to the other Jedi, and the battle that might still be raging on Bakura. He tried to reach for Tahiri through the Force, eager to have her survival confirmed; but she was so far away, and he was tired, and though the Force might not have had limits, he still did.
"Could you relay me to Tahiri Veila at Bakura?" he said after a beat.
"That I can. Stand by."
The comm went silent, and Ben waited for several minutes. Finally, the comm crackled, and he heard a muffled, staticky voice speaking indecipherably. Ben's relief hit him harder than he could have anticipated as he recognized his friend's voice.
"Ben?" she said as the static cleared, and he could tell she was just as relieved as he was.
Ben sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth, fighting back a swell of emotion. "Yeah," he said. "I'm here. It's over, Tahiri. It's all over."
She didn't answer at first, and he imagined he could feel the weight of that revelation sinking into her. "Thank the Force," she said at last, softly.
Ben shifted forward in his seat. "The battle?" he asked.
"Coming to an end." She hesitated, a long pause that spoke more to her concern than any words she might have said. "Is Allana okay?"
Ben glanced over his shoulder at his cousin's unconscious form. "She's okay for now."
There was another pause, longer than before. "Anakin?"
The words stuck in his throat for a few seconds before he was able to force them out. "He's gone. Him and Jacen."
Tahiri's exhale crackled over the comm. "I see. I'd thought as much."
Ben looked out at the medical frigate looming ever larger in his viewport. He switched the shuttle's controls over to autopilot and sat back in his seat, and as he did, his eyes were drawn to the body of his former master lying on the deck behind him. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled loudly.
"What is it?"
Ben shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of Jacen's body. "I thought I would feel… relieved. I thought a burden would lift, or something."
"What do you feel?"
Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Tired." Deep down in the bones, like he would never fully recover. For so many years they'd been on the run from the Sith, and now he wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest.
Behind him, Allana stirred, and Ben felt a pang in his gut. He turned back to the comm. "Allana's waking up. I'd better go. I'll comm soon with an update."
"Sounds good. May the Force be with you."
"May the Force be with you."
Ben gritted his teeth against the pain from his injuries as he crossed the hold and kneeled next to Allana. He placed a hand on her forehead, and she turned into his touch. "Easy there, that's it."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him for several long seconds. "I felt you there," she whispered.
Ben bit back tears as he cupped her face with one hand. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."
"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." Her chin trembled as she spoke. "I just thought— I wanted to—" She stifled a sob and closed her eyes, and he watched tears slip from beneath her lashes.
"Hey, hey," he said gently, brushing a finger across both of her cheeks. "It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault." He imagined the look Tahiri would have given him if she were here. Maybe some of her wisdom had rubbed off on him after all. The guilt he'd carried for so long seemed more distant now, and he wondered if he might finally be ready to let it go. He hoped he could help Allana reach that same point one day.
She sniffled and raised a hand to wipe away the rest of her tears, and as she glanced around the ship, a shadow crossed her face. "Where's Anakin? I felt him, too—" From the sharp intake of breath that punctuated that thought, it seemed she already knew. Her grief swelled, and Ben bowed his head, averting his gaze. That loss was still too raw.
When he looked back up a moment later, he saw Allana staring across the cargo hold where Anakin's clothes were draped like a shroud over Jacen's body. Ben felt the confused clash of emotion inside her, feelings of betrayal, sorrow, and – in spite of everything – love. They were tangled and twisted up in a painful knot, one that she would need time to sort out. Even then, it might never make sense to her.
Allana finally tore her eyes away from her father's body. "Ben?"
He tried to smile, but it was weak, and he was tired. "Yeah?"
The expression on her face told him it was important. "There's somewhere we need to go."
.
.
Tahiri leaned forward in her chair, one hand reaching out across the bed to grasp the hand of the man lying in it. His breath fogged the mask covering the lower half of his face, and the array of monitors on the opposite side of the bed indicated that he was stable, a fact which was supported by her own sense of him. Still, it couldn't hurt to add a little Jedi healing to the mix, and she gave of her own energy to boost what the medics had already done for him. Medical droids and staff came and went while she kept watch; the last nurse to leave had reassured her that Ulin would likely wake soon, adding that he was lucky to have such a devoted companion.
Tahiri smiled to herself as the nurse closed the door behind him. It was a good thing no one else was around to hear that comment, especially Ben; she'd never have heard the end of it otherwise.
She took a deep breath, as deep as she could manage with her fractured ribs. She'd already received some pain meds – she could handle the pain but knew better than to take on an unnecessary burden – and a bacta treatment before coming to check on Ulin; and she fully intended to pay a visit to Tekli on the Errant Venture as soon as she was finished with the post-battle clean-up, including debriefing Orion and settling all of the displaced Jedi children.
The blockade of Bakura had ended swiftly once the Sith line broke with the destruction of the flagship Eradicator, and nearly a third of the enemy's fleet had fled outright after the Warhammer and the Wyyrlok met the same fate. They received reports in the aftermath that some of those fleeing ships had attempted to return to Coruscant, only to be met by Admiral Darklighter's fleet, which had just finished bombarding the Sith Temple complex. The admiral had confirmed for the Rebels what Tahiri already knew to be true – that Darth Krayt, the Master of the One Sith, had perished during the battle. Jacen's battle meditation must have been unfathomably powerful, to cause such utter chaos in the wake of its loss. Without that linchpin holding their forces together, the Empire was vulnerable in a way that would have been unthinkable before.
Ulin stirred, and Tahiri squeezed his hand and scooted closer to the bed. She felt him squeeze her hand in return, and looked up to see a faint grin on his face. Eyes still closed, he tilted his head toward her.
"Am I dead?" he asked, his voice muffled by the mask.
Tahiri shook her head and raised one eyebrow. "You're not getting ready to tell me that you must be dead because there's some kind of celestial being holding your hand right now, are you?"
"Naw, I know you hate lines like that." He laughed under his breath and opened his eyes to look at her. "Do I get credit for following your orders, at least?"
"Orders?" She gave him a bemused smile, wondering what in the worlds he meant.
"Yeah, you told me I'd better not die while you were gone." He shrugged one shoulder. "Mission accomplished."
It wasn't often that Tahiri was caught off guard by her emotions, but she suddenly felt a swell of laughter bubble up in her, and she made no effort whatsoever to suppress it. And even though her ribs probably wouldn't thank her for it later, it felt so good to laugh, to really laugh. How many years had it been since she'd felt free enough to do so?
The door to the medbay slid open, and a familiar face peeked around the doorframe. "How's the patient?" Myri Antilles asked brightly, eyes twinkling as she stepped into the room and looked from Tahiri to Ulin, grinning all the while. "What's so funny?"
Ulin met Tahiri's eyes and smiled behind the mask. "I'm not dead."
Myri clapped her hands together, then spread them wide on either side of her. "That's great! Does this mean you're up for sabacc? I'm trying to put a game together—"
"Myri," a voice called from the doorway, and Tahiri looked past Myri to see Syal standing there shaking her head. "You think you could let the man convalesce a little before you start wrangling him into playing cards with you?"
"Aw, it's fine, Syal, I'm okay." Ulin pulled the mask off and inhaled deep, then turned to Myri. "Who else have you got?"
Myri tapped a finger to her chin. "Right now just you and me, but I was going to look for Elias and Arden next, and maybe find some of the fighter pilots, they're always fun—"
"I wouldn't count on Elias or Arden right now," Tahiri interrupted, aiming a small smirk at her friend. "Pretty sure they've become unofficial den mothers to those kids they rescued. I'm not sure you could pry them away."
Myri perked up at that. "Kids? How many kids? Enough for sabacc?"
Syal dropped her face into her hand and groaned. "Oh my gods, Myri."
"Come on, sis, you're never too young to learn sabacc."
"Pretty sure that's not true."
As the Antilles sisters argued over the educational merits of high-stakes card games, Ulin leaned toward Tahiri and said in a quiet voice, "I'm glad you're okay."
Tahiri glanced down and realized that their hands were still entwined. She quirked one corner of her mouth up and shrugged. "Did you ever doubt that I would be?"
"Nope. Not for a single second."
"Ulin!" Myri cut in with a shout. "I'm going to go turn these kids into pros, you'd better be ready when I come back." She stepped over to the bed and bent down to give Ulin a quick kiss on the cheek. "Rest up, old man. You've earned it."
Ulin reached up and ran a hand through his short gray hair, and he frowned a little as Myri and Syal left the room. "Do you guys really think I'm that old?"
Tahiri studied him for a moment and smiled. "No," she said warmly. "I think you've got plenty of life left to live, Master Slicer."
"That's really good to hear, Master Jedi, because I was planning to do just that." He squeezed her hand, longer this time. Funny, how natural and welcome that one small action had become. "So," he said in a casual tone, "what's next for you?"
"Well, after we finish up here, I was planning to head back to Zonoma Sekot for a few days. I promised a couple of boys that I would be back soon." Tahiri met his gaze and breathed in deep, and she hardly noticed the ache. "I could use a ride. Know anyone with a dependable ship?"
Ulin grinned even wider at that. "Yeah, I think I might know a guy."
.
.
The stolen Lambda shuttle set down on the moon's surface just as night was falling. In the dying light, Ben walked down the open ramp and surveyed the ancient forest around him. It smelled of earth and leaves and new growth, and save for the gentle chirping of nocturnal insects, the night air was quiet. Ben leaned his head back as a faint breeze ruffled his hair. Apart from that small gust of wind, it seemed the forest moon of Endor was calm and at peace.
He looked over his shoulder to see Allana standing at the top of the ramp. After they had both been patched up on the Resilient, she had insisted on coming here, to this moon, before heading to Bakura. She said this was the only place their dead could be put to rest.
"Are you ready?" she asked, holding onto the bulkhead for support.
Ben strode up the ramp and gathered Jacen's body and Anakin's empty clothes in his arms. "Yeah."
After a short walk through the forest, they reached a very small clearing. Ben looked it over before setting Jacen down. "This'll do," he said, examining the open patch of grass as he circled it.
Allana nodded. "I'll get some wood."
Ben eyed the bacta patches visible on her wrists and thought of all the others that had been applied. "Are you okay to do that by yourself?"
"I can manage," she reassured him gently. "I'm not the one with a hole in my side."
"Details," he said with a shrug.
Once she had disappeared from view, Ben began to strip Jacen of his clothing. Piece-by-piece the black uniform came off, until all that was left was a man, naked for the universe to see and judge. His body was riddled with scars, testament to the hard life he'd lived both before and after his fall from grace. Ben was tempted to think about how things might have been different if Jacen hadn't gone down the dark path; but such thoughts were insidious, holding him captive to the past. He tried not to dwell on them, focusing instead on dressing his cousin in the clothing of their grandfather.
They weren't actually Anakin's clothes; those had been ruined or just plain left behind. Still, it seemed important that he dress Jacen in something connected to the light. And since he couldn't give Anakin a proper funeral pyre, this was about as close as he could come.
Once the clothes had been exchanged, Ben sat back and studied Jacen's face, breathing slowly, in and out. It was still true, what he'd said to Tahiri. Killing Jacen hadn't brought him any satisfaction or relief, and he had the feeling his cousin's mournful last words would forever haunt him. Could he have done more to save him?
He reached out and ran his fingertips over Jacen's brow. In the end, he had done what his old master taught him. He had made a choice, and now he had to live with it.
Allana returned not long after, and they went to work building the pyre. They were silent, although for the first time in a long time Ben felt as though they were operating in unison. The bond that had been strained by resentment and secrets was already beginning to mend.
When they had finished, Ben and Allana stood side-by-side, staring at the mound of branches and earth.
"Are you ready?" Ben asked.
Allana shook her head. "No."
"That's okay. We can wait awhile."
Allana blew out a shaky breath. "How can I say goodbye? How can I let him go when I still don't have answers? When we never got a chance—" She cut herself off and inhaled slowly, tears filling her eyes.
Ben placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe one day you'll get that chance."
"Would you want to talk to him again if you could?"
He considered the question for a moment. His first thought was to say no. After all, what could he say that he hadn't already said?
"I don't know," he finally answered. "Maybe."
"What would you say?"
He had spent countless nights imagining Jacen's death and how their last conversation would play out. He still wasn't sure what had changed. Jacen had tortured him and taken his family from him, and that still hurt to think about. But the anger, the bitterness – those had evaporated like water under Tatooine's twin suns.
"I guess… that I forgive him. Maybe not for everything, but for what he did to me. What he took from me. I think… I think maybe I can forgive him for that."
She nodded, but remained silent. They stood still together, listening to the sounds of the forest as the night stretched on. Ben turned to Allana, suddenly curious. "Why did you want to come here, of all places?"
She shrugged a little too nonchalantly. "It was close to Bakura."
Ben nudged her shoulder gently with his. "The real reason."
She sighed. "Because of Anakin. Because of his sacrifice. It seemed fitting, I guess."
"Fitting?"
Allana nodded and looked up at him. "That we should remember him with a hero's funeral like your father did."
Ben's eyes widened. "Allana—"
"I know, Ben. I know who he was." She looked away and stared off into the distance. "If I'm honest with myself, I think I've known all along."
Ben smiled a little to himself and looked down at the forest floor. "He wasn't what I'd imagined he'd be."
"Really?" Allana looked over at him, her expression thoughtful. A small, private sort of smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "He was exactly what I imagined."
Ben reached one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered.
Her arms circled his waist, and she hugged him tight. "I love you, too."
Finally, the time came. Ben carried Jacen's body to the funeral pyre and laid him atop it gently, arranging his hands so that they were clasped together over his abdomen. He lit a flame and cast it upon the kindling, and soon the fire burned hot and strong, engulfing the pyre and the man within.
Allana took a step away toward the flames, and Ben felt her anguish as clearly as if it were his own. She sank slowly to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth to muffle her sobs. A knot had begun to form in Ben's chest as he watched the fire consume what was left of both Jacen and Anakin, and Allana's tears tightened that knot further and further until he could hardly breathe.
He knelt down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. They fell against each other, weeping for all they'd lost. As the flames rose higher, Ben pulled away from Allana and dabbed absently at her tears.
"I miss them both," she said. "Is that wrong? After everything he did?"
"No," Ben whispered as his gaze wandered to the blazing pyre. "It's not wrong. You loved him."
"But—"
"Before all of this, he was a hero. A true hero who saved so many people. Who loved you." Ben looked down at Allana and cupped her face in one hand, and he smiled. "That's the man I choose to honor."
She didn't say anything more, and Ben held her close as they watched the fire burn on.
.
.
Allana Djo stood at the edge of the clearing as morning began to break, its pale light just barely touching the tops of the ancient trees around her. The air was cool, and a hush had fallen over the forest as nighttime creatures settled down to slumber and their daytime counterparts started to wake. The fire had finally gone cold, its contents reduced to ashes. She'd asked Ben to give her a minute alone with them before they left, but now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to say. She kept her eyes on the base of the pyre, unable to look at the remains.
She felt a prickly sensation in her arms, a stray impulse traveling along her nerves, and she looked down at the bacta patches peeking out from under her sleeves. Allana brought both arms to her chest, the fingers of her right hand lightly circling her left wrist as they brushed against the patch. There were similar bandages on the insides of her elbows and along her forearms, hidden by her clothing. Ben said the bacta should help prevent scarring, especially since she hadn't been in the Embrace for long. But he'd admitted that he wasn't entirely sure, and that he still bore scars from his own time as its prisoner.
Right now she didn't really care one way or the other if she was left with a few scars. Their presence or absence wouldn't change anything that had happened, and they would never be as painful as that last moment before passing out, when she'd looked into her father's eyes and realized that there was no safety in him, and that the strength and love she'd longed for all her life had been used against her in the most treacherous, vile way. And even the pain of that moment paled next to the knowledge that in the deepest places of her heart, she still loved him as much as she ever had, and probably always would love him. How was that fair, that she had to live with everything she felt and everything he'd done, while he was just… gone?
Allana lowered her arms and sat down in the mossy undergrowth, placing her hands palm-up in her lap. She still couldn't quite look at the pyre, so she picked out a patch of clover in front of her and took a deep breath.
"I'm not sure if I can forgive you," she said, hesitantly. "Part of me wants to, but part of me doesn't, and I don't know why I should have to feel that way. I don't know why you couldn't just… why you couldn't…"
Gods, more tears. As if she hadn't already cried enough these last couple days. She wiped her eyes and tried to steady herself.
"I wish I could have known you before. I didn't need you to be a hero or a great Jedi or anything like that. All I ever wanted was my father. That would have been enough. I wish…" She took a deep breath that shook her. "…I wish I could have helped you. Somehow."
She twisted her fingers together for a moment, then forced them apart again. "I'll take care of Roan," she continued. "You don't have to worry about that. He'll have friends and a family, and he'll be safe and loved."
Allana leaned her head back and looked up at the treetops and the warm rays of sunlight filtering through them. "I guess that's it," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Goodbye, Daddy."
She rose, then, and brushed damp leaves and grass from her clothes, still not looking directly at the pyre. It didn't seem like enough, and yet it was the only thing that had felt right. No one else would have wanted to honor her father in this way, and no one else would ever understand the full truth about her great-grandfather and what he'd done for them.
Her great-grandfather. It was still a little hard to believe, even though she did believe it, and even though she still wasn't sure exactly how or when she'd realized it. Had it been as early as their first meeting, when she'd sensed the warmth he'd tried to hide from her, a feeling adjacent to the love she'd always sensed from her mother? Or had it been over Vjun, when he'd reached out to her in his desperation, his blood calling out to hers? Maybe it had been on Zihrent, when they sat together and watched the sunrise, and she felt as though the whole universe spun around them and held its breath.
Or had it been in those seconds before waking in Ben's arms, when she heard a voice whisper her name – only her name – and she knew, she knew, exactly who he was, in a way that somehow went beyond knowing?
Allana tilted her head back again, this time looking past the treetops to the pale blue sky, imagining the countless stars that burned brightly beyond it.
"Goodbye, Anakin," she whispered. "Thanks for everything."
.