The air of Polis Massa was dry and artificial, with a tang of recycling chemicals that made Steve's nose twitch. He followed the others through the airlock into the building perched on the barren asteroid, durasteel walls with transparisteel viewports the only barrier against the cold emptiness. Outside, beyond the circles of illumination cast by the many lights, there was only darkness. Was that the way of the universe, the light constantly struggling to push back the darkness, but ultimately doomed to be consumed by it?
"This way." Master Hill led them into a medical bay. Natasha gasped and Sam muttered a curse. Master Nikk Fari lay propped up on several pillows, his dark skin sharply contrasted against all the white in the room, clearly much more alive than had been reported.
"About time you got here," he said, grinning at their reactions.
Steve shook his head. "Why?"
"Can't kill you if you're already dead." Fari shrugged. "And I wasn't sure who to trust."
"So how do you know you can trust us now?" Steve could hear the bitterness in his own voice, but couldn't find it in himself to care. There were too many lies, too many secrets. "How long have you known about Hydra?"
Master Hill took a step toward him. "What are you trying to say, Rogers?"
Fari lifted a hand and she stepped back, but her gaze never left Steve's. Fari's one good eye studied Steve, searching for something. "Did you know that Alexander Pierce and I were initiates together? If you had told me then that he would one day turn dark and betray the Order, I would have laughed in your face."
Bucky's face filled Steve's mind, his once laughing blue eyes turned yellow and filled with hate. The darkness was closing in around them, and there was no way to fight it.
Natasha stepped forward, her back straight. "Hydra is going to kill everyone they see as a threat. We have to do something to stop them."
A sharp burst of incredulous laughter escaped Steve. "What can we do?" He made a gesture encompassing the five of them. "In case you haven't noticed, there's only five of us… and one's not exactly fit to fight."
"Six." All eyes turned toward the door, and several lightsabers leapt to hands at the voice. Clint grinned even while he raised his hands placatingly. "Easy there, guys. I'm a friend."
Natasha took a step toward him, hesitated, then flung herself at him, hugging him tightly, her head buried in his shoulder. Clint's grin widened with surprise and delight as he hugged her back, his eyes flickering across the other Jedi who were all staring at him, a challenging glint in their light blue depths. "Hey," he murmured. "It's okay."
Natasha lifted her head and shoved the bounty hunter's shoulders with both hands, demanding, "What took you so long?"
His grin went lopsided and he raised his hands again, this time in mock surrender. "Sorry, Tasha. I had to make sure I wasn't followed. Didn't want to bring the bad guys here with me." He glanced at the other Jedi again, his gaze stopping on Steve. "Bet you thought I'd sold you out?"
Steve inclined his head slightly. "Everyone else we know is trying to kill us." The only people he knew he could trust were in this room—and he wasn't sure of all of them, at that.
Clint's gaze flicked back to Master Fari, his eyebrows raised. "Word is that you already died, Grand Master."
"Good." Master Fari's teeth flashed white against his dark skin. "We want word to get around on that. Make Hydra think we're weak."
"We are weak!" Steve's frustration burst out of him in a shout. The room went silent and all eyes were now on him. "Five, six, what's the difference? We can't stop them." Letting out his breath in a rush, he turned away. Jedi weren't supposed to be emotional, but he couldn't get a grip on his feelings in the chaotic mess in the Force here. He was too tired to try to sort out the oppressive cloud of emotions. Not caring that it would look like he was storming out, he left the room, seeking quiet.
The darkness outside—and inside—the observation dome felt like it crept closer with every breath Steve took. He sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to meditate. This had always been difficult for him, impossible before Master Abra'im had taken him as padawan. Jedi were taught to release their emotions to the Force in meditation, but the little Bimm had poopooed that idea, instead showing Steve how to examine his feelings and learn from them.
But now, his feelings slipped through his fingers like sand and swirled like a sandstorm inside his head, scrambled and messy. It was as if he were once again the skinny boy who struggled to perform the most basic of the things his teachers asked of him. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I have failed you."
Have you already forgotten everything I taught you, Steve? The familiar music of Master Abra'im's voice whispered through the shadows.
"Master?" Steve's question was barely audible, his throat tight. There were rumours of Jedi masters returning as ghosts of a sort, but all the stories were from ages in the past. And yet, he sensed the unmistakably recognizable Force presence of his master filling the space with a light that did nothing to dispel the physical shadows but everything to dispel the ones in his soul.
I sense much fear in you. And yet, you fear not for yourself, but for your friends. This is not a bad thing. The compassion in the words brought tears to Steve's eyes.
"It's more than fear, Master." Steve closed his eyes, his hands loosening from fists to lie flat on his thighs. "I don't see any way out of this. It's the end of the Jedi."
An end of one thing is the beginning of another. It may be that something greater is birthed out of this tragedy. You are not alone, Steve. Not all in Order are Hydra.
"But… six against thousands?"
He sensed rather than heard a soft clucking of a tongue. There still are Jedi in the Temple who will rise up against the darkness. They need only to see the light. You must show them the way.
"Me?" Steve's voice broke and he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "What can I do? I'm a fugitive—wanted for crimes against the Force!"
There is much you can do, Steve. Go to the Temple. Speak to them. Not all will listen, but many will.
Steve let out a breath. He could do this. Even though Hydra had infected the Order like a cancer, there had to be some good Jedi remaining, and the Force would be with them. "I wish you were here, Master."
I will always be with you, Steve. Never forget: through the Force, good becomes great, and bad becomes worse. I never expected you to be a perfect Jedi, but you are a great one, and I am very proud of you.
