"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." - Isaac Asimov
19 BBY, Month 5, 0022 Hours Centaxday – Jedi Temple, Coruscant.
No. He cried as the Force reaffirmed to him what was destined to happen this day.
What? He heard Miyuki's thoughts as she slid to a stop a few steps ahead of him.
I've seen this. He told her as they came to a stop. All of this. Everything. Though not strictly true, he had enough experience to comprehend the meanings of the dreams, the visions, to determine the shape of things to come.
Master, Miyuki returned to him, it doesn't take one with the foresight to see how this day will end.
No, it doesn't. But knowing that didn't stop him from dropping amongst the recent dead, white armour covering the ground in all directions. I can't do it. It's too much. He closed his eyes, and sought the calmness, the emptiness, the peace. After so many years, it should have enveloped him in an instant, but with all that had happened this day, and with the knowledge that it would, it took him a few moments. And he couldn't shake the image from his mind.
Master, what are you doing?
Trained as he had been for so many years, he knew what he had to do, the Force told him precisely what he had to do. But in his mind he saw every prophetic dream he had had, he saw the all-seeing eye hovering over the pyramid, blinded while the foundations crack. He saw every vision the Force had thrust upon him, he saw the bodies, the burnt corpses, the bloodied face of a young Jedi, her staring, lifeless eyes glinting in the firelight.
In his memory he saw the broken bodies and charred corpses half buried in the rubble that once was the core of the Jedi might in the galaxy. Now nothing but a ruin. It's too much, and yet... He could feel the traitor, taking his time as he ascended through the core of the Ziggurat, so close. I have to at least try. He could feel Cin Drallig, so far from them both. He opened his eyes, and found the others watching him, waiting. We are who we choose to be.
All that can be asked of us is that we try. It wasn't just a thought, a feeling, it was Mace Windu, speaking from Miyuki's memory, her memory of him. We don't have to win. All we have to do is fight.
Always proactive, was Master Windu. Like someone I know. That doesn't necessarily mean he was right.
How about this Master Cahal. Miyuki knelt beside him. Since at the end of the day the only person we need to live with is ourselves, what is it you feel you need to do?
Looking at her like that, he couldn't help but laugh, and the surprise he felt emanate from the group of Padawans only enhanced it. Little Yuki, so wise beyond your years.
You only have yourself to blame, Master.
He rose to his knee and pulled her into a hug. He could feel the surprise in her, the unsure hesitation. But she did return it. How many times have I done this? Once? Twice?
It doesn't matter, Master.
He pulled back so that he looked into her too-big Force-imbued blue-black eyes, then touching her scarred face he sent no words, only emotion. No normal person could truly comprehend exactly what he did, not even many Jedi understood that their telepathic links could be used in such a fashion. They were Jedi, meant to purge emotions of the self, but they were never ones to adhere to that doctrine, even those who did never truly purged themselves.
But of course after a moment Yuki froze, her eyes widening in understanding. You're going to die, aren't you?
If that is my fate. And he rose, looking from Miyuki to the others, most of whom had only grown increasingly anxious as the seconds in the delay slipped by. "Come on." And without another word he took off, chasing after the traitor.
Miyuki and the others followed closely as he raced through the broken corridors, after all, where else were they to go? The Padawans had given up hope before he had arrived for them, he had felt it. And so now they followed him, even as he felt their fear rise when they realised where that was.
There was no doubt, no fear, no worry as Cahal followed the trail of the Dark Side up through the Temple. It wasn't hard to follow, every corridor showed the signs of the heaviest, most reckless fights he had ever seen. Yet strangely, there were fewer dead than everywhere else he had been that day.
Even though that being the case, there was no mistaking the dark shadow that clung to the walls of every room, every corridor, every broken wall and collapsed roof. One even barely trained to feel the Force would be able to follow such a trail. Without any of the white troops to bar their path, they reached the doors to the highest room at the core of the Temple, the very peak of the Ziggurat. And the dark force eating away at the Jedi was just on the other side.
Are you sure about this Master?
More than anything else. The image was still there, just beyond his vision. Like always.
But what about Master Drallig? He smiled, feeling only concern coming from his apprentice.
But he also could feel the Battlemaster, working his way around the Temple, nowhere near to them. And the traitor wasn't the only person beyond the doors in front of him. When I engage him, I shall rely on you to get the others to safety.
He did not even await her response before he stepped forward, the doors opening to reveal the Jedi Council Chamber enshrouded by shadow. The darkness only lasted for a moment though, as light spilled onto the floor of the chamber a very distinctive bright scarlet glow burst into existence in the middle of the room, mixing with the darkness to throw a blood-red light across everything.
Skywalker. There was only a handful of Jedi with that particular colour, only two of which were on Coruscant when it had begun. The other; Agen Kolar, was already dead. And he was a greater Jedi, and better man than Anakin Skywalker could have ever been.
Here and now Master. He heard from Miyuki, feeling worry and concern slipping toward him through the Force. With the words he moved his eyes to the man awaiting him, standing as motionless as the three small bodies at his feet. Man is a strong term.
Anakin Skywalker, the most famed Jedi of recent years had always seemed less than he should have been. Standing a bit shorter than Cahal he always tried to fulfill people's expectations of him, taking the spotlight with a fist and never letting go, thrusting his chest out and doing everything he could to keep people's attention. No more.
Standing facing a huddled group of frightened children with his hood up and head tilted down his eyes never left Cahal. He had always been strong, but now he had a quiet sureness about himself. Anakin held his attention without any of his old style.
But it's still him. He could feel it; both in the Force and the way Anakin looked at him. In many ways he seemed right, proper. Well, so be it. Without ever taking his eyes from Anakin he spoke to the others the same way he did to Yuki. Get out! The children wasted no time, all of them slipping in their hurry to get away from Skywalker.
Then he felt Anakin channel a small amount of the Force, so tiny he almost missed it. Chssh-qwlk! And yet, he still couldn't do anything, he never had a chance. And he certainly didn't want to look at what remained of the last child in the line. The one who hadn't made it through the door in time. Instead he was fixated on the smile splitting his old friend's face.
You're a psychopath. Anakin was his friend, they had known each other ever since Qui-gon Jinn had brought him to the Jedi Temple as a boy. Anakin was more than a few years younger and as such was like a younger brother to himself, Serra, Tysha and Xoren, just as they were to Agen and Praet and Obi-wan. Looking back on it, the way he looked up at us, the way he strove to be like us, I can honestly say that this doesn't truly surprise me. And I don't think we helped as much as we could have. Not that they were not inclusive, or even dismissive in any real way. But Anakin was the younger by quite a way, and he had never truly liked the way things were done in the Temple. And his failures hurt him more than they should have. If he hit a wall he'd slam his head against it until it gave way, willing the wall to not be there.
I have never forgotten the shock he felt when you informed him of your ascension to Mastery before he had reached Jedi Knight.
Leave Miyuki. Now.
But Master-
I'm trusting you. Now go. Not a moment more passed before he felt her leave, hurrying away from the door with the rest falling in behind her, heading down the tower. Not too long now.
"They will not survive." Anakin said, turning toward him. "None of you will."
"We'll see."
"This has been generations in preparation." Even his voice was quiet, strong. Ice cold. "My Master has studied this from every conceivable angle."
"The best plan only lasts until the first shot is fired." And yet, he could not help but feel a truth to what Anakin was saying, his words conveying a certain, inevitability.
An he could not push away his unease. But not about Anakin, or even the feeling of death that covered everything. Focus on the now. Later won't matter if you don't make it there. "You never were deserving, not really."
"Coming from the man who never experienced the Trails for Knighthood."
Anakin shrugged. "Over-rated. Like many of the Jedi who passed them."
"They were your brothers and sisters Anakin." The mingling of anger and melancholy was definitely new to him.
"That's interesting, something a Jedi is not supposed to do."
"What feel?" Cahal said as he stepped forward to his old friend, his younger brother. "Sadness? Pity? Abject Horror?"
"No, just emotion." Anakin replied, Cahal actually managing to feel his icy calm as they began to circle each other. "Yoda and Windu talk about denying and defeating things like anger and hate. Have you ever felt them, their power?"
"You think I haven't?"
"I know you have. That's why I want you with me."
Well, I can't say I'm shocked. He felt the power emanating from the younger man, and it was overwhelming. "And why would I ever do that?"
"Because we're the same. Agen and Xoren wouldn't get it, Obi-wan and Windu could never hope to understand. None of them remember what it was like to have a life outside of the Temple, a family."
"I wouldn't exactly call scavenging the Southern Underground as 'a life outside the Temple'." He replied calmly, spotting the spare lightsaber in Anakin's second hand. This will be tough. His eyes moved back to Anakin's. But I knew that already.
"None of them got held back, pushed to the side at every turn, told to slow down when he had performed something that should have been considered miraculous."
"I fail to see anything miraculous about this."
"We completely rewrote the Jedi's knowledge on one's connection to the Force, pushed the boundaries on how to utilise it; and were told we were foolish when we tried to save those we considered friends. We're like brothers, and we have a chance to destroy all the corruption in the galaxy. We are the same, I know you can feel it too. Join me now brother, and we can fix it all."
His words had a power, a weight. And, Cahal had to admit, a certain attractiveness to them. I've felt that before. And a new uneasiness brushed through him, conflicting with the that ever-present image. He wanted to help Anakin, he wanted to fix all the problems with the galaxy. But not as much as I don't. He stopped circling Anakin and took a breath. The way he sees problems are not the way I do. The more he focused on it, the clearer things became. It's makes a nice change from the last few years.
The thing was though, he was right. Not about the others not being able to understand, this was all exactly where Agen or even Mace could have ended up without proper guidance. Even he himself had he not taken care. Or without Miyuki, sweet, little Yuki. She kept him on the path, she kept him sane, and focused his vision. More than she would ever know, more than I had ever realised. Anakin was found and brought in at nine, Cahal at six. Both of them were orphans and had overcome that stigma over the years.
But Yuki never could, she never had that chance. On one of his earlier assignments as a fresh Jedi Knight he had come across a tiny, underfed child in the Outer Rim mines. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was something that the majority of the galaxy felt was an abomination; a half-breed. Even in the Temple amongst the other pupils she was looked down upon for the longest time. It was only because of who he was to Sifo Dyas and Windu, even the great and powerful Yoda was conflicted between his idealism and Jedi tradition. And she could have been one of the strongest of us all. Says something for tradition.
Yes he had taken pity on her, but it was more than that. I had felt our similarities from the first, I suppose that was why I was so insistent. Relaxed, his mind moved back to the now, to what Anakin was saying, to what he was being asked to do. And he couldn't help but to laugh at the absurdity. He could feel it throw Anakin off.
"Yes Anakin, we are the same, as much the same as we are different. To hear you talking about the ways in which we are similar, and you are killing others for the same differences in us, well, I still find only pity for you. You know far too little to have a true, lasting impact on the galaxy."
"Is that so?"
"It is. The Dark Lord does not share power. If he did, Dooku would still live. As would his own Master, and his Master before him. Power does not set you free, it weighs you down. Never content to discover and push what you can do with what you have it is the ambition that drives you. It grabs you and holds onto you because the desire for power is all you have."
He felt Anakin's rage build, and he turned his eyes on him. Looking through the Force he saw that great storm that Anakin had always been, always strong, but now so black that it practically covered the entire room, whipping around so furiously that it was a wonder the whole Chamber wasn't torn loose from the Tower. But what really surprised him was that it seemed like the Force itself bent inward toward Anakin, as though the universe itself was flowing into him, pushing him onward.
"You're going to make me kill you, aren't you?" Anakin said, somehow sounding disappointed and excited at the same time.
"I make you do nothing. I never have."
"You pushed me on!" Anakin spat. "You and Agen and Xoren, always looking down on me from above, always urging me to show them what I was capable of! Always daring me to go bigger! Even Serra never let me forget that she was Drallig's favourite!"
Suddenly, the darkness dissipated from his mind, and the clarity calmed him. Calmed, and hurt. "I'm sorry Anakin. But no."
"You're 'sorry'?"
"I am. Agen and Xoren, Tysha, Obi-wan and Mace, Serra and Yuki. They are my family. Not just the only family I have ever known, but a family I would do anything for. We grew, bled and lived, and died together. Betraying them is something I could never find it in myself to do. You had that, and now..." He gaze flicked to the corpses of the three children that lay between them. "There are no words to truly describe manner in which you cast it all aside."
"They are creatures of destruction and heresy, nothing more."
"They were children!"
"And now they won't be a threat when they grow up." Somehow, regardless of everything Anakin had become, of all that he had said, and of some of the particulars of how Mace Windu had trained him, he found that he still didn't hate Anakin. He could never truly hate Anakin. "You want to kill me, don't you?" Several times, yes. "You feel that? That's anger."
I know. "You are a fool Anakin Skywalker, and you understand nothing." So it has come to pass that the most powerful Jedi in the history of the Order is reduced to the plaything of the Dark Lord Sidious.
"Disrespect me at your peril, my brother."
"Respect is a fluid thing. Lost as quickly as it was gained." He saw the disappointment, and the anger behind Anakin's eyes as the younger man took a small step forward, into his ready stance and igniting his second lightsaber, a Padawan blade.
Oddly, Cahal felt no regret coming from his old friend. "This is the end for you, and the Jedi." I know.
Cahal ignited his lightsaber the moment Anakin lunged at him, the Force whipping around them both as Anakin drove him back, his orange blade catching the powerful red and blue strikes with ease. After all this time, he still has so much to learn. Anakin might have been famous as one of the greatest Jedi warriors of recent times, and he was the stronger by quite a way, but he only knew one way to fight. Charge in, and batter your enemy into submission or defeat. It was the nature of Djem-so to funnel everything you had into overwhelming your opponent as quickly and completely as possible.
But in the years since the onset of the Clone Wars, Cahal had expanded his skill in Soresu and Juyo while becoming a master of Ataro. He didn't consider himself one, though that in itself is considered a Jedi trait; but he knew he learned fast and always kept his head in the fight.
Anakin however has none of that. And so Cahal Meyrick was content to fall back in the wake of heavy raw power of Anakin Skywalker, wielding two blades as fast as he could and still hitting only air three out of five strikes.
Cahal stepped behind the chair of Mace Windu, darting down and under the blue blade and bringing up his own to catch the red, deflecting and dragging it around to his right to catch the blue before it was to strike his hip. Using the might of Anakin's strength Cahal guided the three blades, locked together as they stepped across; slicing Mace Windu's seat into almost a dozen pieces.
He's as powerful as ever. It was with seemingly little effort that Anakin threw the orange blade up, Cahal literally feeling the Force whip around him as he was pushed back almost into the window. Anakin didn't let up and struck immediately, Cahal dropping and rolling to avoid twin strikes which instead of carving him to pieces cut through the window and burned scorch marks into the wall.
He saw it coming as he flipped from the floor to his feet, swinging his blade out to cut the object in half and a small amount of effort to deflect the pieces to either side of him. He never had a chance to see the two halves of the corpse turn to a red cloud as they slammed into the wall because Anakin was on him in less than a moment; the red and blue blades flashing all around him, striving for all they were worth to penetrate his orange shell as the Force cracked around them.
Cahal felt the Force pulling at him, tugging his movements this way and that, ever so slightly trying to shift him into making a mistake. This isn't normal, it has to be Anakin using the Force to manipulate what is. But try as Anakin might, it wasn't enough. Even with the power he was putting into his swings Cahal was still too fast, too precise in his movements, never truly getting within Anakin's reach no matter the pressure.
But I've seen it, it can only end one way.. From somewhere, somehow, the Force answered him, And with your Foresight, just how much has changed? How much has already played out just as you manage to pull out of the riddles?
The answer was easy. It's not a riddle to know that I am no match for him. A lot was different, and yet, all the major pieces seemed to be the same. And in that moment, as Anakin piled on the power, seeming to strain to get the better of him, Cahal discovered he had to know, needed.
The Force whipped around them like a tornado, shooting out in lightening bolts across the room as their energies clashed. He truly is overwhelming. Their energies exploded and blew them both back across the room from each other.
Cahal just managed to catch his feet, and he looked up to see Anakin had already recovered and his blue lightsaber having shorted out from the explosion of energy. Cahal watched Anakin dispense with it as the energies circling him got sucked into the young man, his now spare hand darkening as it rose toward him. Looking through the Force it was as though darkness itself shot out of Anakin's outstretched hand, reality itself bending in on the ball of dark energy as it shot toward him. Cahal didn't know what a normal person would have saw had they looked on right then, but he saw what Anakin had done, and had only one possible answer; he raised his right hand to prepare himself, and when the ball of dark energy met his hand he manipulated the Force like an artist, creating his masterpiece.
He caught the dark energy in the palm of his hand – caught being a strong word in this instance – opened a window to the Force, and using all his knowledge and more to send it back to the realm it was brought from. But Anakin's power was greater than anything he had ever fought. Lightening flared and left huge scorch marks above and below where their energies clashed and fought.
This is insane! Was all Cahal was thinking as he looked at Anakin, trying harder than he could ever remember to retain his focus. He's pushing for everything. And he was. He could see the sweat on Anakin's face as the younger man tried to hold his assault together, the strain in the way he held himself in trying to prevent what Cahal was trying without great success to accomplish. He's never needed to know another way to beat his opponents.
It was then that he saw the end. Cahal took the energies clashing at his fingertips and folded them back in on themselves. He twisted and ripped at the energies, pushed and threw them away where they crashed into the ceiling above them, causing the entire room to tremble and fissure; a massive crack that ran the length of the chamber as dust rained down on them both.
When the structure of the chamber stopped groaning Cahal was breathing hard, his right arm was shaking, and with the strain of combating and absorbing the raw power thrown at him he had to fight just to maintain his control. But aside from a light sweat he could see on Anakin, the younger man was apparently still in top fitness. How is he not tiring? But the confusion in the younger man's eyes brought a small smile to Cahal's lips. "Tutaminis."
"You never could beat me Anakin."
"Change is inevitable."
Anakin was right, and yet, the Force was whispering to Cahal, showing him the way. This fight was over. "And the man who ignores the past is destined to fall to it." Cahal prepared his move.
"SHUT UP!" Anakin bellowed, the floor cracking at his feet as he launched himself forward, stepping only once in the millisecond it took for him to cross the floor and strike.
Cahal avoided Anakin's first strike, deflected the second as he stepped to the side, avoided the third and forth as he struck twice, keeping Anakin in place for the chair that came flying across the room even faster than Anakin had to slam into his fallen friend square in the chest, sending him crashing into and shattering the window before disappearing outside.
Taking a few deep breaths Cahal stepped up to the window, allowing his orange blade to shrink away as he looked out to see the the scarlet glow of Anakin's blade do the same when the man dropped softly to the ground. Even at that distance, Cahal met Anakin's eyes, felt the rage, and the pain hidden behind. The more things change the more they stay the same. He turned from Anakin and looked at the dead younglings, small flames from his and Anakin's battle licking their clothes.
But he had no time for them, the unease was still present, the Force using it to call him away, to somewhere else in the Temple. And he knew, wholly and totally that that was where he was meant to be. And so he left. The dead younglings would have the same mourning and honoured burial as every other Jedi that was found in the Temple this day. He didn't look back on the Jedi Council Chamber as he stepped by the broken child's body at the door; the broken floor and scorched roof, the destroyed seat of the First Speaker, and the missing chair of his broken friend.
He didn't hurry, nor second-guess himself. So he sought the calmness, and did what he could to steady himself and realign his power. Force-tiredness was a very different beast to physical exhaustion. And yet he found the conflict within him interesting; the desire to hurry to where he needed to be fighting against the innate trust and belief instilled in him to follow how and where the Force led.
He has become almost the perfect Sith Warrior, all anger, rage, and hate, and that feeding his enormous strength. But now wasn't the time for thoughts of Anakin. He could feel the fading light of the Troll. Jedi Master Cin Drallig was still alive, but Cahal could feel that his strength too, like his own had been, was fading. Being stripped away by the darkness that surrounded everything, consumed by it.
But that wasn't where the Force was leading him, nor was it where he wanted to be. No, it was leading him away a little. It wasn't wrong, he knew he needed to be somewhere, but the Troll wasn't it. In fact, he suddenly had the sinking feeling that he would never reach the old Battlemaster while he was alive. And that feeling was growing within him. So he picked up the pace, and followed the Force, the unease growing as he knew there was somewhere he needed to be, something he needed to see, needed to do. Need.
He saw it just before he entered the room, so he knew he had little time. He charged into the Third Hanger Deck, blasterfire covering almost ever corner of the room. But his target was their's; just off-center in the room was five lightsabers doing everything they could to hold back the bright wall of death that was forever strengthening and closing in on them, and only the two green ones belonged to someone over then age of eleven.
Balls of energy flew every way from the group of Jedi as he raced across the room, weaving through blasterfire and soldiers in an effort to get there. There's too many, I'll never make it. Two Padawan blues fell and blinked out one after the other. Cahal sped up, the Force leading him through the battlefield, his lightsaber an orange blur all around him. He saw it all happening, he had no time, listening to the Force as it lead him.
The last blue light fell, leaving the green blades alone and sweeping in all directions as they abandoned their position. Cahal was already moving in their direction as he saw the Force bend in toward the Jedi; an artillery piece taking aim from above.
Cahal darted through a line of soldiers so fast they all dropped to the floor as one; then flung himself into the air, whipping his lightsaber across to deflect the heavy laser down where it crashed into the floor, sending soldiers and rubble flying and crashing in all directions. Cahal spun in the air and behind the Jedi below him he slashed again, causing twin explosions as his blade sliced through a pair of rocket propelled grenades.
The force of the explosions threw him down where he crashed into the floor with a huge crunch, knocking the air out of him. And in a way no normal person can understand; literally feeling the spiderweb beneath him as it cracked into existence across the floor, and using the Force to mold the dust that billowed up into a cloak that surrounded both of them.
Cahal turned a his head instantly to see the outline of the back of Serra Keto; a short pixie shaped woman who was the one-time ace apprentice of Cin Drallig. She was hovering in the air, puling the Force into a ball in front of her twin green blades. With an outward gesture the Force shot away from her in a giant ball, rippling through the dust cloud to crash into a far wall.
The soldiers waited seemingly forever as they set their perimeter, waiting for the dust to disperse and reveal the two Jedi. Three soldiers were a little braver and stepped right up to the edge of the cloud as it finally cleared, revealing only an abandoned lightsaber on the floor.
"They're gone sir!" one of them said.
"Fan out!" The commander shouted to everyone, clear-cut, strong and sure. "Search for any possible exit! This is Commander Jacobs. Two Jedi have escaped the Hanger Deck Three."
Three floors below in the corner of a supply room Cahal stopped, and with his arm around her waist he helped a struggling, smiling Serra down to the floor. "I feel like we've been here before."
"Yeah." was all he could manage as hey hit the floor.
"Great." She groaned. Trying, and failing to move. "Now I know it's bad." Somehow, he could still feel her happiness at this moment. The way her emotions conflicted and fought within her somehow bringing him small comfort that they mirrored his own. This is what you get. Fight for the Force, help people at every turn, and at the end of it all...
"It's alright." he said softly as he held her, shaking as she tried to resist. "We'll just rest here for a minute." The Temple began to quake and shudder once more, as he felt Cin Drallig begin to engage Skywalker. For the last time.
"I'm- I'm dying Cahal." He could hear the pain in her voice, the fear. She's terrified. He ran his hand down her back, over a dozen burn-swells rippling across her skin beneath her now shredded clothing.. And yet, what hurt most of all; he knew that this was the way it was meant to be. This is what was in it for us? Fear, pain, and death?
He felt himself starting to shake, his eyes getting watery. "I'm sorry." He said, holding her close. About far more than this. He felt her hand grab his arm. "I... I guess I... I just..."
"Cahal?" He heard Serra whisper in his ear.
"Yeah?" I know.
"Would you- please stop lying to me now?" I never lied to myself, I just couldn't bring myself to... Instead, for an answer Cahal moved his head until it touched her's, leaving it there for a few moments, meeting her green eyes as they stared into him. He closed his eyes and slowly, gently he lowered his lips against hers, Serra responding just as softly.
The Jedi Order had rules against such relationships; and though looked down upon by the many traditionalists it is not technically forbidden for a – or two – Jedi to share an intimate relationship. A few hundred years ago the Order had tried to outlaw it completely but were met with a possible rift in the Order, so it became Yoda's position to allow such relationships as long as they did not interfere with one's duties. But that does not mean there isn't a sort of stigma that goes with being discovered, making it even more difficult for two within the order to share such a deep connection.
When he pulls back Serra almost blurts out, "I'm sorry."
"No, shh." Cahal hurried just a little, struggling to say anything himself as he felt her life trickling away. Right through my hands. "It's my fault okay. It's not as though you never... It's mine." Even with his eyes open he could barely see her, though he wasn't sure if that made it more or less painful.
"I'm scared Cahal." She trembled in his arms, her skin going pearl white.
"I know. I know." What else can I say? He knew what she wanted, what she needed, but he found himself shaking as he fought to even get that little something out of his mouth coherently.
"Please Cahal," She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her, clinging onto him with everything she had, and it still somehow felt faint to him, fragile. She's almost gone. "I don't want to be alone." He shut his eyes, and let the pain wash over him. And I can't do a thing.
"You won't be." He found himself saying. "You'll be with the rest of us, back in the Force, returning to that place with no physical bounds." As her grip on him slackened, her breathing easing a little, he found himself wondering, almost comfortingly, if what he was saying was even remotely true. It doesn't matter if it isn't. "The world of dreams that you've been to thousands of times before, and will be again with all the rest of life that has passed on as you wait to be reborn again."
"A very old belief, Cahal Meyrick." She whispered, her eyes barely focusing. "But then, you always were drawn to the whimsical." She spoke with her natural, fond smile. How does she always find time for that?
Still, somehow he could never quite form the right words around the lump in his throat. Please, not this. He didn't want her to leave, he wanted her to stay, to live. His whole world had gone to hell around him and right then practically none of it mattered, he just wanted Serra to stay, that feeling compounded as he felt her life slowly drift away. But that is only greed. And Jedi were taught to let go of such things, to not cling to the world around them.
And so that was what Cahal Meyrick meant to do, holding her in his arms until her light faded to the last, finding nothing to say himself. Too much, there's too much. It's too much. How could I ever say enough now?
But Serra saved him the trouble, as she had so many times. With what must have been the last of her strength she breathed, "I'll see you in another life Cahal. But not again in this one." And her chest fell for the final time.
She's gone. And he felt only worse. He just leaned back against the wall, still holding Serra in his arms as the tears he'd held in all day long finally began to drip free. He stayed there for he didn't know how long, his head back against the wall as the shaking and trembling of the Temple died, slowly feeling the life force of Serra's one-time mentor fade to nothing in the distance. Knowing he always had the words in him, he'd just been unwilling to let them go.
