Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: The Force Unleashed

Note: Well this is it everyone! The last full chapter of this story (not including the epilogue that will be following shortly). Thanks, once again, to all of my readers and reviewers for all of your support. A huge thank you, also, to my beta, Liisiko, who manages to find time in her busy schedule to help with refining each and every chapter.

I shall do a full thank you and additional notes at the end of the epilogue once that is published, so for now, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 41 – Severance

Location: Onderon

"PROXY?" Juno called out, leveling the ship with shaking hands. "Are you in position?"

"Almost, Captain."

"You need to hurry. At this rate we're going to lose the storm. We need that advantage."

"Understood." PROXY's responses – perhaps wisely – were kept short and agreeable. Juno's nerves were frayed, her heart hammering as she traced PROXY's signal. She had underestimated how long it would take the gangly droid to pick his way through the storm-ravaged jungle and was angry at herself for the miscalculation. Mistakes were all well and good but not when Galen's life hung in the balance.

Tapping her fingers loudly against the console she tried not to watch as the seconds ticked down. The heaving storm seemed to be funneling down into the valleys south of their position and whilst that would normally have been a good thing she'd come to realize what great cover it could have provided. Her plan was risky to begin with, and whilst this factor only added to that risk, it could also work in her favor.

"I have reached the co-ordinates, Captain Eclipse," PROXY chimed in; his voice and the stormy wind briefly filling the cockpit. The signal had certainly been precarious, but was clear enough now.

"You know what to do, yes?"

"I do. Battle strategy is part of my programming."

She nodded, her mouth tightening into a grim line. "I'll begin descent the moment you reveal your position. Remember, try and keep him distracted for as long as you can."

"Understood."

She ended the transmission and leaned back in her chair, letting out a great whoosh of breath. Her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest; the apprehension almost too much to bear. She wasn't afraid to die – she had long since come to terms with that possibility – she was afraid that she would fail. Afraid that Galen might never forgive her. She touched the comm unit gently, tempted to try and make contact with him, but the risk was too great. It could take only a moment's distraction to get him into serious trouble.

Withdrawing her hand reluctantly, she turned her attention back to PROXY's signal.

She would not have long to wait.

Galen dodged sharply to the left as the dark clone swung high, the saber cutting clean through the tree that had been standing at his back only a moment before. The smell of wet, burnt wood was pungent as Galen lifted his hand to block the clone's second attempt at decapitating him.

Behind them, the terentatek's sides still heaved, its claws scraping long grooves into the muck beneath it. Its resistance in the face of death was strangely distracting and Galen winced as the red saber burned the air a finger's width from his ear.

He swept out an arm, bringing the Force with it, scooping up mud, thorns and rocks and sending them showering at the clone – slowing his advance and giving Galen time to maneuver into a stronger position. His wounded arm was shaky enough that he couldn't trust it to hold out – forcing him to rely on his left.

The dark clone had thrown up an arm to defend himself from the debris tossed into the air and retaliated with a blast of Force energy that buffeted angrily against Galen's raised shield.

The dark clone's sabers hummed as he went on the offence and again they clashed; twisting this way and that in an attempt to gain the upper hand. The attacks came so quick and fierce that Galen had no time to draw anything to his aid, relying on swift feet and quick reflexes to block the attacks and send a few sharp jabs back at his opponent.

The dark clone gave a roar of fury, lashing out with both lightsabers, and Galen leapt backwards to evade, spinning the green blade in his burned hand to throw aside any strikes that got close enough. He was tiring and the constant pulse of dark energy was wearing at his patience.

He landed on his feet and began to rise again when the unmistakable 'whop-whop' of a thrown lightsaber reached his ears. He turned to block, but too late, and a deep flash of pain knifed across the back of his leg, buckling him roughly forwards onto his knees.

"I've thought about what you've said." The dark clone announced, leveling his blade to Galen's throat. "And I think I'll cut my ties from Vader. Once I've dealt with you I'll get myself clear of this planet and take control of my own destiny."

"The—venom," Galen started to say.

"What venom?" the clone spat. "There is no venom."

It was hard to tell whether he was feeling the effects of it yet, what with the pouring rain and his already sickly appearance. The dark clone was shaking but that could have been from excitement or rage…or madness.

Galen bowed his head and let his arms fall limp at his sides, reaching out for a semblance of calm to keep the darkness out of reach. The temptation of dark forces came and went but now they seemed to be pulling at the end of their chains, baying like demonic hounds.

The saber hovering just beneath his chin was starting to grow unbearably hot; an intense reminder of how close he was to losing far more than just his patience.

The dark clone laughed, loud and piercing – or perhaps it merely seemed louder because the storm was beginning to recede – and when he spoke again it was with a patronizing tone: "Look at you. Kneeling there. Waiting for death when there is strength here that you refuse to use." With exaggerated care, he pressed the lightsaber forwards until the tip blazed against Galen's shoulder, eating away at fabric and down into flesh.

Galen's resolve had already begun to dissipate, the last threads of calm coming undone under the realization that time was running out. His promise to Juno was splintering apart – the promise he knew he shouldn't have made.

And, as if reading his mind, the dark clone asked: "Thinking of her in your last moments? Don't worry. I'll break the news of your death as gently as I possibly can." His smile was nothing less than wicked. "But she won't grieve for too long. Even if I do plan to take my time in putting her out of her misery."

The rage that surged through him was instantaneous, the images of what the clone planned rushing through his mind. And, with renewed vigor, he drove himself upwards on his uninjured leg. The red saber – still embedded in his shoulder – tilted downwards into his flesh, sending another blast of searing pain through him. It took little effort to shift that pain into dangerous sparks which leapt from his fingertips to snap at his nemesis.

"I won't let you do that," Galen snarled, feeding on the pain to keep himself on his feet.

And somewhere inside of him he knew that what he was doing was wrong and dangerous. He could hear the steady thrum of the dark side reaching for him, eager to accept him back into its embrace. The heavy shadow of its presence deepened further. But what else could he do? He'd broken its influence before. Surely he could do it again.

You've never broken from it. A mocking voice whispered to him as he leveled his gaze at the clone. And maybe it was true.

Without any forewarning, a dark shape separated from the shadow of the trees, appearing behind the dark clone. A figure; tall and broad-shouldered with armor that lit hot-white beneath the glare of the lightning above.

Galen would have done a double-take if he'd had the energy and the dark clone turned to look, twisting the saber deeper, widening the wound in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the blinding pain, Galen's hand settled on the cold hilt of Kota's saber, readying it for vengeance.

The need to strike pulsed through him.

"Master?" the clone hissed in disbelief.

The clearing filled with deep, mechanical breathing and Galen's thumb teased the activation switch on his weapon. Waiting.

"Why are you here?" the dark clone demanded. "Did you not think I could do this? Look. Look at him. He is mine. Look!" And he pulled the saber free to turn and face the dark lord. Galen's body lurched forwards, his hand tightening against his lightsaber. The dark clone was distracted. It was the opening he had been waiting for, and yet – despite everything – he hesitated.

There was another way. There had to be another way. Kota had believed it strongly enough to throw his life away for it. And he wouldn't have done that unless—

"You have failed again; as you always have," Vader responded, unfazed. "But this will be the last time." He lifted his arm slowly and the clone staggered back, screaming in rage and fear.

—Unless Kota truly believed that killing the clone might send Galen back in that downwards spiral of hate and greed and power.

But he'd stayed his hand before and look at where that had gotten them. Unfortunately, the thought was barely being formed in his mind when Galen's window of opportunity closed. The clone lurched drunkenly towards the towering figure of the Sith Lord, clutching at his scored chest and babbling enraged nonsense.

Vader, slowly but purposefully, ignored the dark clone and moved across to where the terentatek lay, gasping its final breaths. "You have learned nothing," he continued. "The plan is in motion and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Your fate is sealed. You will die."

"I won't take it," the clone seethed. "I won't take that fate. I won't."

"You already have."

Galen smiled wearily through the pain.

But the dark clone, less than amused, swung for Vader's chest—

—And the Dark Lord's image undulated; peeling away to reveal a robotic skeleton hiding beneath.

"PROXY," Galen affirmed knowingly, not sure whether to be annoyed that the droid was there or thankful for the diversion. The dark clone, on the other hand, had clearly not been expecting the droid; a good sign, perhaps, because it meant that that he was letting his emotions overpower what little sense of reason he still possessed.

Thunder rumbled again, distant at first and then louder.

"You," the dark clone snarled, rounding on the droid. "You will pay for this treachery."

PROXY wisely put some distance between them as the clone circled to cut off escape, his step increasingly labored. Perhaps the venom was finally starting to have an affect? And in that moment, the 'other way' made itself known. The clone – so intent on the droid – hadn't bothered to pay attention to his surroundings and, in that split second, the dying terentatek's claws hooked into his leg and pulled him roughly from his feet, roaring in angry defiance.

The dark clone thrashed, his cries of rage transforming into ones of sheer terror. And in that moment the powerful, mad Sith clone became as helpless as anyone else would be in that situation.

The thunder grew louder and Galen, realizing something was out of place, looked upwards from where he knelt. And in that moment the world around him faded out. He forgot the dark clone. Forgot PROXY. Forgot the dying terentatek and the pain of his wounds. There was no light. No dark. Only cold, terrible horror.

He mouthed a single word, too afraid to speak it out loud. Afraid of giving the moment life. But spoken or not, the thunder was not thunder at all. It was the roaring engines of a ship.

Their ship.

PROXY's distraction hadn't been meant to give him a chance to strike.

It had been meant for Juno.

"You must retreat, Master." PROXY called out to him from across the clearing. The droid was still standing close to where the dark clone was fighting to get free of the terentatek's jaws.

"PROXY! Where's Juno?" He could hear the fear in his own voice. He already knew. How could he not?

"Why, Master, she is on the ship."

A human might have lied. A human might have taken pity on him and broken the news gently. But clearly, keeping the information from him had not been part of the droid's orders.

It was hard to think. Hard to move. His fingers felt stiff and clumsy as he scrabbled desperately for his com-link, wiping the mud frantically off of the device.

"Juno!"

There was no response and he called her name again; to no avail.

The ship plunged, its velocity and angle making Juno's intent undeniably clear. She'd put the Rogue Shadow on a collision course. What was she thinking?! Was she going to abandon ship? Could he take that chance? He couldn't let her die for him. Nothing he had done would matter if he lost her now.

He cut off his panicked thoughts and simply reacted.

He called the Force to his aid, drawing every bit of his strength – concerned at how difficult it seemed to be to grasp – and unleashed it in a tidal wave of desperation. The energy flowed out of him in a dizzying rush, crossing the shortening gap between him and the Rogue Shadow and slamming into the hull. The ship lurched upwards dangerously, forcing Galen to redirect some of the strength; realizing that he could end up destroying the ship mid-air if he didn't tone down the amount of force he was using.

He touched against her retreating life force, surprised to find her abandoning the cockpit. Perhaps she hadn't been on a suicide mission after all. But it was too late now. He had already slowed the ship down, and it had begun to list. Panic seized in him and he screamed out in agony as he tried to redirect the ship back on course; altering the fragile panels on its wings to slow its descent.

But he was running out of sky and even as he fought to correct its course he could already tell that there was not going to be enough time to reduce its speed enough.

The last thing he remembered seeing was the ship ploughing down towards them, smoke billowing from its port side wing, the ground rupturing as it made contact.

The impact sent him hurtling back and the darkness reached up to take him.

This time, he relented.

The dark clone could feel the creeping of something unwelcome in his veins. Something hot and cruel. It moved slowly as if cherishing every painful moment. This pain was not a good one.

And he knew that creeping feeling was death coming to claim him.

He had tried to move – to free himself from the clutches of the downed Rogue Shadow – but had given up after an extremely brief attempt. A piece of the wreckage had gored him through, pinning him to the now very dead terentatek.

Everything was red.

The ship. His clothes. His hands.

The world.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore either. He wondered whether the ship had cut them from his body. Or maybe they'd been burnt to ashes. The flames were getting closer and he could smell burning fabric.

Across from him he caught a glimpse of the phantom figure emerging from the smoke and he laughed, sudden and crazed. So they were all going to die together. Him, his ghost, the inferior clone and even his woman. And Vader? Where had Vader gone? He was certain that he had seen him. Tried to fight him, even. Or had that been his imagination? His head swam and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again there was someone standing in front of him. He wasn't sure how long he had been out and his eyes didn't seem to want to focus.

"Can you hear it?" He rasped. "The darkness?"

No response.

"Wait—I know you." He choked on blood, his breath gurgling in his throat.

He did not hear the shot that killed him.

The dark clone slumped back against the motionless terentatek, a twisted half-grin scrawled across his face. The life had gone from his eyes, the flaring gold-red now glazed and dark.

Only then did Juno release a wrenching cry, allowing her arm to drop and the blaster to fall from slack fingers. She'd almost expected the bullet to ricochet off of a Force-conjured shield and hit her instead. But the smoking hole between his eyes confirmed her success.

She stared at him. He was dead. It was over.

Trying and failing to keep her sobs at bay she slumped back against the carcass of her dead ship, taking the weight off of her injured leg. She'd wrenched her left knee so badly that she could already feel it swelling. There were other injuries, too; a broken arm, a badly scraped shoulder and a number of lacerations decorating her entire body. There was something wrong with her back, too. But rough as her landing was, it would have been far worse and if she hadn't abandoned ship when she had, it was very likely that she, too, would have gone up in flames.

Shaking violently from shock, she pushed herself back onto her feet and began to limp her way across the clearing. The rain and the battle had churned up the ground; turning a short walk into a true test of endurance. And with her bad leg, the only thing that kept her going was the hope of finding Galen alive.

But the scene that greeted her was of apocalyptic proportions; the receding storm still rumbling somewhere in the distance. There was wreckage and cold rain and hot flames hissing and spitting in the damp. And somewhere beneath it all lay PROXY and Galen.

Her leg gave out without warning, sprawling her across the uneven ground and jarring her broken arm so hard that her vision burst with white light. It was only after – when her eyesight had cleared – that she saw him, lying on his back, so covered in mud that it was hard to distinguish him from his surroundings.

She called to him in a shaky voice and when there was no reply she dragged herself closer on her one good arm, crying out in pain even as she forced her body to press on. Nothing mattered as much as this. Broken bones and gashes could wait for treatment. Reaching Galen could not.

And, blinking through tears of pain, she reached out to touch his hand. His fingers were deathly cold.

But so are mine, she thought. That doesn't mean anything.

"Galen," she called again, soft. "Galen."

The storm, which had once been so vociferous, had grown ominously quiet, though it had trailed grey clouds that still forbade the sun to permeate.

"Galen?" she whispered again, her face wet with tears. "Please wake up. It's over now. We've done it."

Still nothing.

His motionless silence distressed her. He had been through so much before now and survived every time – save one. How could he leave her now after everything they had been through? She had always feared this result – and knew he had, too – but deep down she had dared to hope for something different. Dared to hope they might both get away.

Leaning her weight tenderly on her skinned shoulder, she extended her good arm in a desperate attempt at seeking a pulse. But either the muck was too thick or there was none to be found. She tried to wipe the mud away but her pain was so crippling that she seemed only to be making it worse. Her head dropped to rest against his arm and grief threatened to consume her.

Please. Please don't leave me.

A wave of dizziness turned her stomach and she closed her eyes in an attempt to ward it off.

"Please."

And he stirred, his first shuddering breath catching in his throat and sending him into spasms of muted coughing. He couldn't seem to catch his breath and for one horrible moment she thought he was drowning in smoke and fire. His limbs jerked and her hold on his hand instinctively tightened, afraid that he would slip away from her again.

He took his first clear breath and shifted again. His eyelids didn't seem to want to function, though, and forming words seemed near impossible. He tried to say something – her name perhaps – but it was incomprehensible.

"I thought you were dead," Juno choked, bursting into relieved tears.

His fingers flexed against her hand in an attempt at comfort and, after a moment, he managed to choke out: "Why?"

She didn't understand what he was asking. Why was she there? Why was there fire? Why was he in so much pain? So, at last, she said: "I couldn't let you kill him." And it suddenly didn't matter if that was what he had been trying to ask or not. She needed to say it. Needed to get it out in the open. "What if it had changed you? What if—if…" It had drawn you back to the dark side. But she couldn't say that, could she? It would be like she had doubted him and she hadn't. He wasn't evil but she couldn't be sure how much influence the dark side truly had. She'd never gotten the impression that taking up the dark mantle was by choice alone.

"The ship is gone, Galen," she continued, feeling sick to say the words. "I couldn't see any other way. I couldn't have fought him off myself."

"Juno, don't cry."

"She's burning. The ship is burning. And PROXY—I don't know where he is."

His hand squeezed hers tighter and when she looked up again his eyes were open just a little. The fire put embers into them, reminding her of the dark clone's golden eyes. Her heart clenched and she held him a little closer in return.

"You're hurt."

She shook her head – which only aggravated her light-headedness. "It's nothing."

There was a long moment of quiet and then, he spoke again, slowly as if it took great effort: "I've seen it, Juno. It's not me. There's another."

"What's 'not you'?"

"Another Jedi." His brow tightened with pain. "We played our part. And now it's time for him to play his. If I interfere—" He paused as if trying to gather his scattered thoughts. "—That monster could return."

"The 'only hope' from your vision?" she asked, clinging to the one thing he said that she could understand.

He nodded, regret surfacing through the pain. "We need to sever our contacts."

Her heart gave a horrible shudder. They'd already done that, hadn't they? The ship was lost. They were cut off from everyone they knew.

In a quiet voice, she asked: "What are we going to do?" Her heart pounded, dreading the answer. It was obvious: there was nothing they could do. Leia wasn't coming to their aid. No one was. They were alone, lost in the middle of nowhere, too far from any settlement and too weak to attempt to reach a populated area anyway. Then she realized that Galen hadn't answered and looked up to see him drifting. She tugged on his hand – unaware of the burns on his knuckles and said; "Don't leave me."

Her plea seemed to bring him around momentarily and he turned his eyes towards her again. "Don't worry. I'll figure something out." But he was already fading and no amount of pleading could bring him back.

He was gone.

Juno, suddenly alone and surrounded by flames, could do nothing but listen to the destruction all about her. And, as she faded into unconsciousness, she realized that somewhere up above her, growling louder than the storm, was a noise that sounded strangely like a ship.

To be continued with the epilogue.

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