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MoM: memories
It has been a long day, and all of the younglings look tired, ready to pack it in. You, on the other hand, are still brimming with questions.
"But, Master Yoda," you say, your voice still the lilt of a child's, "if the Jedi are peacekeepers, what are we doing fighting a war?"
You stand almost a head taller than the diminutive green Jedi Master, and yet he is still intimidating. His eyes seem like they could pierce your very soul - and yet, he is always kind, always patient.
"A good question you ask, Caleb Dume," he says, and though his voice isn't loud it carries so well. "Peacekeepers, the Jedi are. And yet, exist those who would harm the innocent. Defend them, we must. Power, we are given, through the Force. Responsibility we must take, to use it wisely. Great suffering, war causes, youngling. Difficult decisions, we must make. But greater still, the suffering caused by hate and fear. If we do nothing, complicit we become. Understand, you will, in time."
You nod, still not really getting it, but you know by now when the others have reached the breaking point: if you ask one more question today, you'll never be able to live it down.
"Thank you, Master," you say, and the class is dismissed.
You are tired, but it's a good, satisfied sort of tired, and you laugh as one of the clone soldiers - one of your friends - pokes you good-naturedly in the ribs, teasing you. You feel the weight of the lightsaber at your belt, and you know and understand your place in the universe. There's a cube in your hands, and you examine it - a holocron, which your master has recently entrusted to you. A precious gift, a store of knowledge, and you smile because it's beautiful.
Your master is nearby, and you know you did well today, because the smile she had on her face was the one she gives you when you've done a particularly good job, and your belly is full and your feet are warm and dry and you and your friends did not die today.
That may be why you don't notice the change in the air fast enough. Maybe. But change it does, almost instantaneously. The soldiers stop what they're doing, and before you can even register it, their eyes change from warm friendliness to cold hostility.
Your Master is quicker on the uptake than you are. She is up at lightning-speed, calling your name, her lightsaber in hand. What is happening? is all you can think, even as she puts herself between you and the soldiers, who are advancing with blasters raised and murder in their eyes.
"Caleb," she says, "Run!"
She is your Master, and you her Padawan, and when she gives you an order you follow. It is life-or-death, and so you run, even as you hear her die, even as your mind rebels at the thought that your friends would do such a thing, you run, harder than you've ever run in your life, and you know you cannot look back.
You are pulling a dark cloak out from under a pylon where it's been pinned. You are bruised, and aching, but as you play the fight over in your mind, your injuries aren't what matters. No, what matters is the Twi'lek woman who so gracefully took out those gang members.
She is amazing, and you would really like to find her again. Fortunately, you appear to get your chance, as you nearly run into her as soon as you step back out into the street, still holding the cloak she dropped.
"Ah."
You have to fight the urge to grin like a maniac just hearing her voice again. "Ah," you repeat. She is, frankly, gorgeous, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight, her lips and her chin, and - you're staring. Like an idiot.
"Knew I'd forgotten something," she says, and by the stars, you will do anything to keep her talking. "You okay there?"
Still staring, you nod.
"You speak Basic?"
Okay, at some point if you don't answer her, she's going to leave and you'll never see her again, pull yourself together, Jarrus! "Words fail me." Nailed it.
She smiles. "So they do."
You glance back in the direction of the alley, where the fight took place. "That was something back there." Because it really was. You can hold your own in a fight, more than hold your own, even without the Force, but she is something else entirely.
"Yes," she says simply, picking mud from the cloak she's reclaimed from you. "It's a good thing I was here to save you."
"Save me?" you exclaim, your pride a little stung, and you glance back at the prone bodies of the gang members. "You had a whole gang after you!"
"I'd paid them to do a job for me. There was a minor pricing dispute. I could have handled it." Your jaw is hanging open as she speaks, seriously offended. You were trying to help her! And then, she's tucking her hand under your jaw, almost affectionate. "You did pretty good, though. I'm impressed." She pauses a beat, and you still struggle to find words to counter her. "So, you just randomly go around sticking your neck out for people?"
And that brings the protests to your lips again. "No," you insist, scowling a little. "Well - almost never." Not for a long time, anyway. You're still not thinking too hard about why you did this time. And then your brain catches up with her actual words. "Wait a minute. You needed them to do a job? For you?" What the kriff kind of job did she need to hire the Sarlaccs for?
"Mmmhmm. And now it's done." And with that, she flips the cloak back around her shoulders, and turns to leave.
You can't just let her leave. You can't. You follow. "I do jobs," you say hastily, desperate to keep her talking, not wanting to end the conversation yet. "You need something done, I'm there." For her, anything.
"No, thank you," is all she says, not even missing a beat, not stopping at all. "I have stops to make."
No. No way. "Wait!" you call, not even sure why. You're in a lot of pain, there's only so far you can go before you have to stop, but you need - something. You glance back up, and she's gone. Gone, and you don't even - "What's your name?" You call it into the night, just on the off-chance...
And then you hear it. That voice again. "Hera," she calls back, and you know her name.
"But, Master Yoda," you say, your voice still the lilt of a child's, "if the Jedi are peacekeepers, what are we doing fighting a war?"
You stand almost a head taller than the diminutive green Jedi Master, and yet he is still intimidating. His eyes seem like they could pierce your very soul - and yet, he is always kind, always patient.
"A good question you ask, Caleb Dume," he says, and though his voice isn't loud it carries so well. "Peacekeepers, the Jedi are. And yet, exist those who would harm the innocent. Defend them, we must. Power, we are given, through the Force. Responsibility we must take, to use it wisely. Great suffering, war causes, youngling. Difficult decisions, we must make. But greater still, the suffering caused by hate and fear. If we do nothing, complicit we become. Understand, you will, in time."
You nod, still not really getting it, but you know by now when the others have reached the breaking point: if you ask one more question today, you'll never be able to live it down.
"Thank you, Master," you say, and the class is dismissed.
You are tired, but it's a good, satisfied sort of tired, and you laugh as one of the clone soldiers - one of your friends - pokes you good-naturedly in the ribs, teasing you. You feel the weight of the lightsaber at your belt, and you know and understand your place in the universe. There's a cube in your hands, and you examine it - a holocron, which your master has recently entrusted to you. A precious gift, a store of knowledge, and you smile because it's beautiful.
Your master is nearby, and you know you did well today, because the smile she had on her face was the one she gives you when you've done a particularly good job, and your belly is full and your feet are warm and dry and you and your friends did not die today.
That may be why you don't notice the change in the air fast enough. Maybe. But change it does, almost instantaneously. The soldiers stop what they're doing, and before you can even register it, their eyes change from warm friendliness to cold hostility.
Your Master is quicker on the uptake than you are. She is up at lightning-speed, calling your name, her lightsaber in hand. What is happening? is all you can think, even as she puts herself between you and the soldiers, who are advancing with blasters raised and murder in their eyes.
"Caleb," she says, "Run!"
She is your Master, and you her Padawan, and when she gives you an order you follow. It is life-or-death, and so you run, even as you hear her die, even as your mind rebels at the thought that your friends would do such a thing, you run, harder than you've ever run in your life, and you know you cannot look back.
You are pulling a dark cloak out from under a pylon where it's been pinned. You are bruised, and aching, but as you play the fight over in your mind, your injuries aren't what matters. No, what matters is the Twi'lek woman who so gracefully took out those gang members.
She is amazing, and you would really like to find her again. Fortunately, you appear to get your chance, as you nearly run into her as soon as you step back out into the street, still holding the cloak she dropped.
"Ah."
You have to fight the urge to grin like a maniac just hearing her voice again. "Ah," you repeat. She is, frankly, gorgeous, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight, her lips and her chin, and - you're staring. Like an idiot.
"Knew I'd forgotten something," she says, and by the stars, you will do anything to keep her talking. "You okay there?"
Still staring, you nod.
"You speak Basic?"
Okay, at some point if you don't answer her, she's going to leave and you'll never see her again, pull yourself together, Jarrus! "Words fail me." Nailed it.
She smiles. "So they do."
You glance back in the direction of the alley, where the fight took place. "That was something back there." Because it really was. You can hold your own in a fight, more than hold your own, even without the Force, but she is something else entirely.
"Yes," she says simply, picking mud from the cloak she's reclaimed from you. "It's a good thing I was here to save you."
"Save me?" you exclaim, your pride a little stung, and you glance back at the prone bodies of the gang members. "You had a whole gang after you!"
"I'd paid them to do a job for me. There was a minor pricing dispute. I could have handled it." Your jaw is hanging open as she speaks, seriously offended. You were trying to help her! And then, she's tucking her hand under your jaw, almost affectionate. "You did pretty good, though. I'm impressed." She pauses a beat, and you still struggle to find words to counter her. "So, you just randomly go around sticking your neck out for people?"
And that brings the protests to your lips again. "No," you insist, scowling a little. "Well - almost never." Not for a long time, anyway. You're still not thinking too hard about why you did this time. And then your brain catches up with her actual words. "Wait a minute. You needed them to do a job? For you?" What the kriff kind of job did she need to hire the Sarlaccs for?
"Mmmhmm. And now it's done." And with that, she flips the cloak back around her shoulders, and turns to leave.
You can't just let her leave. You can't. You follow. "I do jobs," you say hastily, desperate to keep her talking, not wanting to end the conversation yet. "You need something done, I'm there." For her, anything.
"No, thank you," is all she says, not even missing a beat, not stopping at all. "I have stops to make."
No. No way. "Wait!" you call, not even sure why. You're in a lot of pain, there's only so far you can go before you have to stop, but you need - something. You glance back up, and she's gone. Gone, and you don't even - "What's your name?" You call it into the night, just on the off-chance...
And then you hear it. That voice again. "Hera," she calls back, and you know her name.