The sun seemed closer than it ever had prior, beating into the back of his neck, heating his dark hair and sending sweat beads down his spine. It was hard to think, hard to breathe… But he focused on his master, her robes billowing out behind her in the dry desert heat. Plo Koon was with them, chattering on to his master about something he had found in his studies. Akira couldn't listen to anything, not in this heat…

"Akira," His master called, and he hurried toward her as best as he could in the sand. She pulled her scarf away from her face, dirt clinging to her eyelashes. "Have your saber ready. We don't know where or when he'll appear… he's an illusionist you know..." Her voice trailed off, and the desert fell away, revealing the ruins they would travel days to find. It'd been three days since they'd entered the desert, and the ruins had finally turned up. Akira was excited, one of his last missions with his master…

He ran through the ruins, shouting for her. The laughing of the crime lord they'd been searching for echoing throughout. His taunting stretched from every corner, every vacant doorway, leaving Akira standing in the center, screaming for her.

"Master Lyra!" He cried, but the cry stayed in his head, the laughing crushing in instead. The buildings grew, and Akira found his feet unable to move. He was unable to peak, unable to lift his saber. He just watched as the crime lord dangled his master over the edge, Plo Koon standing beside him.

"Release her!" Plo had called. "There will be no repercussions for what you've done here today if you Let. Her. Go."

Akira was shaking, tears in his eyes.

"If you insist," The man responded, letting her go. She fell, her silent descent punctuated by a sickening crack at the bottom.

Akira cried out, lifting his saber.

"No!" Plo cried, but Akira had already finished the swing, throwing his saber up toward the balcony, impaling the crime lord who had just ruthlessly murdered his master. But Plo ran over to the body on the ground, a scarecrow in her clothes lying there on the ground. Akira ran over to the body of the crime lord, and threw back its hood.

Master Lystra.

"Oh, Ooooh," Akira cried, falling back on his bottom. "Master!"

She smiled, reaching out to him. He looked back at Plo, who watched on sadly, before taking her hands.

"I'm so sorry Master, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Shh," she coughed, stroking his cheek. "Don't blame yourself. You're to be a magnificent Jedi, my boy. Go forward with love."

Her eyes unfocused, and her body turned to ash in a pyre in the desert, Plo Koon at his side. In the fire, her half burned face turned toward him, eyes opened, she screamed.

Akira woke with a jolt.

He tried to ground himself with a few deep breaths, searching his room for the crime lord, for the desert ruins, but there was none. Lyra's gaze was burned into his mind, it flashing each time he closed his eyes. He rose, pacing over to the window, his chest still heaving. What was he doing? What was he doing trying to do, rejoining the order, rejoining comrades on the field? He'd avoided command for now, yes, trying to protect in place of leading, but it was only a matter of time. Why did he let Yoda talk him into leaving the guard and rejoining the ranks? He said Lyra would have wanted him to live to his potential… potential for what? Killing those he loved?

He pulled on his jacket, hurrying down the hallway. His slippered feet were muffled, but still felt like they echoed in the silent, clinically lit hallway. His own breaths were still heaving in his chest. He came to Motie's door and knocked, looking down the hallway for any curious eyes. The door opened, and Motie squinted in the light.

"Akira, do you have any idea what time it is?"

He shook his head, and she stepped aside, letting him in. Motie's guard's mask was leaned against her caff maker, the gold glimmering its amusement in the light.

"You've been back from Kamino for two days and you're here already, so I'm guessing you're here after midnight because you're either drunk or upset, so which is it?"

"I, I had a nightmare, about Lyra again. But this time, this time, it feels more, taunting. I can't do this, Motie, I can't be on the field responsible for so many lives. I can't kill someone-"

"Woah, woah, slow down. Akira, I know how you feel about Lyra and what happened. But, you can't drag that through every decision you make for the rest of your life. You were an entirely different person then, you were only seventeen… you've grown significantly since then, as a person and as a jedi. But if this is going to ruin you, maybe you should talk to master Yoda about coming back to the guard. You know we'd love you back."

He ran his hand through his hair, "I'm afraid of getting attached to these men, of getting them killed or watching them die. I don't think I could take it."

"Akira, people die sooner or later, I know that's no comfort, but if you got to the end of your life having watched everyone else enjoy theirs while you stuck to the sidelines in order to protect yourself, you'd have one terrible existence. Reach out, talk to them, get close to people and trust them. There's no shame in asking for help or admitting something is too much, and there's also no shame in coming back to the guard."

"Maybe…" he considered, his heart rate finally drifting back down to a normal range. "I'll, I'll try what you said, and if its too much then, I'll come back to the guard."

She smiled. "Either decision is ok."

He smiled, and she offered him an embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, and she took a deep breath, his chin rested in her dark hair.

"Thank you."

Akira didn't try to hide his exhaustion the following day. The dark circles beneath his eyes were monument to the suffering he'd endured the previous night, and he had no interest in hiding it. He simply didn't care any more. Rex, Bly and Cody were at the holomap as well, listening to Mace discuss the troop movements on nearby planets. Akira didn't know or care which ones. He found himself instead watching Rex's lean, lithe waist… how his biceps moved beneath his armor… what he must look like in only his blacks…

He shook his head, refocusing on the map. He was tired. Very tired. Rex? He hadn't thought about it… where did that come from?

"Akira… are you feeling alright? You don't look so good."

Akira looked up, and all eyes were on him. Windu's arms were crossed, he was waiting for a response.

"No, actually, Master. I haven't been feeling well."

"Perhaps you should go to the healer."

"Yes, thank you, master." Akira said, and excused himself. He needed a few days of sleep...

Thanks so much for reading, please review!