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Author	Topic: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Musical Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
Valairy_Scot Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 9/4/08 1:00pm Subject: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Musical Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis - Date Edited: 9/6/08 5:11pm (6 edits total) Edited By: Valairy_Scot
	Title: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death Author): Valairy_Scot Timeframe: AoTC Characters: OC’s, mention of canon characters Genre: songfic, challenge Keywords: OC’s, Geonosis, songfic, LAS, challenge Summary: Challenge: use the lyrics from the song Bring Him Home from Les Miz Note: Life's A Stage Challenge, here Waiting is its Own Slow Death I’m a Jedi. I am used to going from bored tedium to frantic, controlled pandemonium within the space of seconds. I don’t, however, recommend it for a Jedi recuperating from surgery, especially when the cause for pandemonium is the call to Assemble. I’ve been a Jedi master more years than I can count, have raised two padawans to knighthood and have a third just about ready for the Trials. I’ve never heard the Assemble call before. “Don’t worry, Master Astilbro.” Worry – me! I nearly sputter at the young padawan who sticks her head in my room before coming to my side. Little slip of a thing, a braid barely below her ear, and she’s trying to reassure me despite the worry in her own eyes. Worry! These younglings are so solicitous at this age; being around ‘em long I get a sugary high just from their presence – excuse me, I’m a Jedi master, I don’t wish to be sweet, I don’t need to be sweet, and I sure as the Force don’t – oh, sweet Force, she’s hooked me. I’m more than four times her age and no doubt twice her size. I’m uncomfortable, bored – and returning that sweet little smile as she pats me on the hand before leaving. Bah! I’ve been suckered again. Assemble is a call to action for any able-bodied Jedi able to respond. I may joke about getting feeble-minded in my old age (not in Master Yoda’s hallowed over 800 year old presence, of course) but feeble-minded or not (depends on who you listen to), there’s life in this old body still. I struggle to my elbows and try to swing my legs over the side only to hear: …The Force. More bahs, but I wouldn’t be an old Jedi if I didn’t listen to the Force. I had sought the Force’s strength to get out of bed and the Force had said, “Bah,” right back to me and drained what little strength I had. Now I call that a message, and like a good Jedi, I release my grumbles and frustrations into the Force as I lay there panting. The body may be weak, with or without the Force’s admonishments, but I have a lifetime behind me of reaching into the Force for information. Busybody old Jedi I am not – not even if Master Plo Koon so accused me once. I had valid reason that time... yeah, Master Yoda and I were, well, humph, enough of that gossip, though I will say he really is a mischievous old troll – and a heck of a prankster. So anyway I stick my “Force nose” out and sniff out what’s happening; it’s apparent the healers with their noses and various sensory organs in bedpans more than gossip are not all that interested in sharing whatever they know. My reflexes aren’t quite what they used to be, and, well, I’m so intent on listening that I wasn’t, er, paying attention to my surroundings as I should. In my defense, I’ll claim that in the Temple one shouldn’t have to pay such close attention to one’s surroundings. One is not usually threatened, but this time the threat was clear, loud, and obvious. “Your heart, Master. Lie back down; you’re going nowhere.” Listen, I have the heart of a Jedi. The body – not like in my prime, of course, but I like to think my heart, my years of experience, and my will power more than make up for this weakening body. The Order has called assemble and I will obey. Of course I’d already forgotten the Force had spoken as well, and it, too, had said “no.” Listen, I’ve had surgery. They gave me drugs. I am not at my best right now. And I don’t like youngsters giving me orders, either. I glare at the master healer; she glares back. Knew I should never have let my first padawan become a healer. She’s giving me payback for all the mistakes I made with her – trust me – first padawans get all the master’s mistakes. Sometimes they turn out well anyway. This one did. She out-glares me now; you’d think she’d been Master Windu’s padawan once. Force blast it, I’m the first to back down (considering she firmly but gently pushed me back down against my pillow. Master-abuse, I call it, but then Sharia squeezes my hand as I raise up on one elbow. She’s a darn fine woman, darn fine Jedi, too. I’m proud of her.) Her look softens, and she offers me a crumb of the rumors – I knew then that I’d raised that woman right. “Rumors are it’s another ‘rescue Obi-Wan campaign,’ Master.” That Kenobi kid! He has a right knack for getting himself in trouble, usually aided and abetted by that padawan of his. When he was younger, it was aided and abetted by his master, my friend Qui-Gon. This time, it must be bad, real bad, if Sharia is right. The Jedi would never assemble under normal circumstances for one Jedi. As callous as that sounds, there are other ways to try to help a colleague. This is not the way. Rescue Kenobi. Humph. There’s more to it than mere rescue. Soon as Sharia decides to share her next tidbit of information, I know I’m right. “Some of the healers have been detailed to go along as support. That means the Council anticipates the possibility of casualties.” My old heart thumps a beat; we exchange looks. “It’s come, then. War.” I collapse back onto my pillow with a sigh. The cloud has been gathering for months now, the Force growing ever murkier. “Old Jedi like me should be the ones to go – not the young ones.” I hadn’t realized I’d mumbled aloud. Sharia always did have sharp ears. She knows I’m thinking of J’han, her padawan brother. She probably is, too, behind that Jedi mask. “You’re in no shape, Master, not if there’s fighting. Let’s hope a show of numbers is enough to prevent any casualties. I have to go, now.” My thoughts turn back to J’han as she leaves. My current Padawan is here at the Temple. He’s a man, not a boy, and he will be one of those to go. There is little chance of seeing him before he leaves, I’m sure. All my padawans have been a gift of the Force, but J’han will be my last. My last padawan. I squeeze my eyes shut as my words hit me. Please, Force, no, I’m an old man. Not that. Not – that. God on high Hear my prayer In my need You have always been there Few of us are lucky enough to train three padawans to knighthood. Two usually wear out one master, depending on the life span of said master. For us humans, three is definitely uncommon. I hadn’t planned on a third, but the Force had other plans. This one will go far. He respects me, but I think I respect him more. No nonsense about him, yet he’s able to charm Master Windu into a real smile once a year – that’s more than any other Jedi can lay claim to. He’s always been a well-behaved, responsible, mature boy. He’s never given me any trouble – no bickering between us like between Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker. Their bickering is nearly legendary. Somehow that team manages to do a bang-up job despite it, but such bickering would have me putting my foot down hard. Considering those I’ve chosen as padawans, though…maybe those two aren’t so unusual after all – just more vocal. “Or you just listen a little too closely?” Dry humor punctuates the words. I’ve been chastised again. Sometimes a master-padawan bond isn’t all its cracked up to be. J’han always has a way to seeing to the truth, then keeping mum about it. It’s why we don’t bicker – it takes two to do that. He drops me some outlandish truth and as I sputter back at him, he charms me into a smile and a shake of my head. As I do now. Accusing me of eavesdropping – no self-respecting Jedi would abuse the Force that way on purpose. Every Jedi in the Temple hears those two bickering, and let me tell you, it only takes hearing appendages, not the Force. “J’han,” I let my surprise and pleasure warm my voice. “Master, I suppose you’ve heard.” He’s there in the doorway, an uncertain grin on his face. “We’ve been told to prepare for battle, but we’ve also been assured it should be relatively quick and easy – just a few droids to deal with, mainly.” Force, sometimes he looks so young. He’s twenty-six, no boy, but when he gets that uncertain look on his face he reminds of that twelve-year earnest-faced kid that I didn’t need the Force’s direction to grab as my no-doubt last padawan. “Come here, J’han.” Ah, he’ll be a knight soon enough, out on his own, so I reach out a hand to pat his face. Master Marshmellow, he once dubbed me when I once forgot my master face (that kid scared the Force nearly out of me that time and, well, I was so happy he was okay, I – um, I let myself be, um, happy). This time I’ll let my affection, rough and gruff as it may, spill forth in the way I trace the line of his cheekbone, brush down that smooth chin as his eyes widen in surprise. He is young He's afraid Let him rest Heaven blessed. “You’re scared.” “Master!” The indignation of youth colors his voice, but his cheeks flush. “There is no fear, Padawan.” He nods in agreement. I shake my head and remind him of a long ago lesson. “There will be no fear when it is time to do what is necessary. A little fear beforehand jumpstarts the senses. We’ve discussed this; we’ve all felt something coming for a long time, we’ve all had a “bad feeling” as Master Kenobi would categorize it. Death, dying – on a large scale. War. We should fear that; if we cannot, we have no compassion for those who will suffer. Fear, like any other emotion, will flow into the Force when it becomes necessary. Fear what is coming, then shed it when you face what is before you.” I fear it down to my bones. I don’t want to see war, battle, conflict in any name, but I feel it. Inevitable, just as time marches on, war draws ever nearer and the knowledge of how to avert it eludes our grasp. Dear Force it won’t be on the scale of the Sith-Jedi wars of so long ago, but this conflict will embroil the whole galaxy. Sentient beings will die. Jedi will die. There has always been conflict. There always will. A Jedi is no stranger to conflict; we wade right into it and try to find workable solutions. Bring balance to both sides, yes, balance both sides so that conflict is minimized. In our own way, we Jedi try to bring balance. Each and every one of us, are we in some way balancing the Force? Balance the Force – I wonder what exactly that means. Is Anakin Skywalker truly the one to bring it – or do we all bring it separately and together? Is this imminent war the first step towards balance or our last chance to avoid tilting the balance the wrong direction? “May the Force be with you, Padawan.” We clasp hands, and I see the firm resolve in his eyes. He is putting that fear where it belongs, into the Force. And it begins to bleed into my spirit, that fear; that fear I might not see him again. Bring him home Bring him home Bring him home. I trust in the Force. I accept death. The Force is our home; this world a temporary place where our temporal bodies reside. The Force is where our luminous selves exist without regard to time or space. But this temporal body has a living heart – and that heart cares for this, my third padawan, and this heart knows fear. I admit that as with all emotions. I will even release it – but for now I cling to it. He's like the son I might have known If God had granted me a son. The summers die One by one How soon they fly On and on And I am old And will be gone. “And with you, Master. While I’m away, practice bossing my padawan sister around. As head healer, she’s too used to bossing others around.” As if said padawan does not egg on said padawan sister to boss her master around. Sharia dotes (for a Jedi) on her padawan brothers. The two of them ganged up on me to get me into this bed in the first place. J’han even had the nerve to claim he wanted me around just to cut his braid. He knows how to play me – I swear I’ll live long enough to torment his padawans just for that, weak heart or no. “Padawan.” I clasp his hand, feeling this need to hold on, to protect, to strengthen him. “Remember your lessons.” Unsaid, as well: Remember me when I am gone, for I pray that it is I who is not here to greet you upon your return, rather than that I am the one here when you are not the who returns to greet me. My heart cannot sustain me should one of my padawans precede me into the Force. His teasing smile nearly banishes the fears that are descending upon me. “Master, I should hardly be deemed ready for my trials if I were unable to retain all that I’ve been taught.” “You’re ready, padawan, you are more than ready. When you get back, you’ll be ready for that haircut.” Padawan Too-Sweet-For-Words interrupts our little conversation, stating I need my rest, and once again my irritation melts into agreement. J’han has to leave anyway. He flashes me that slightly crooked smile, pats his lightsaber at his hip - this perhaps the only time I don’t laugh at the gesture – and walks off – away – forward to hell. Hell, yes, for the Force has suddenly given me a glimpse of what is coming; where J’han is going. It is silent. Smoke and dust swirl around a great arena littered with droids, winged insect-like beings – and Jedi. I can almost smell the stench of death, acrid and acidic yet unable to bring forth coughs from throats forever silenced. Silence and smoke intertwine, keening the grief and sorrow of the Force in minor key, a discordant gnashing of an orchestra out of tune. The wail of silence is cutting yet muted, edged with mists and sharp as grief. Dead. They’re all dead. Oh, dear Force. Bring him peace Bring him joy He is young He is only a boy Into the silence a small sound protrudes. Weeping. Is it the Force itself? As I come out of that vision, I feel the tears on my cheeks and the sobs in my chest. He who weeps, I now know, is I. In all that slaughter, I have not seen one face, nothing familiar. I have not seen J’han. You can take You can give Let him be Let him live All I can do for now – is wait, and put my trust in the Force. Suddenly the ward bustles with activity. It is purposeful preparation. They are preparing for the wounded and the dead. How many hours have I been in meditation? I must know – I must. “Master, you shouldn’t be up!” It is a young padawan, gently grabbing my arm and trying to guide me back to my bed. “Child, tell me.” Our eyes lock. She is perhaps one year away from being a senior padawan. Her youth has saved her; “child” she wraps around her rather than protesting. “A large battle, Master. We were outnumbered and – most will not return. Masters Windu and Yoda survived. No more do I know. I have to go, Master.” Please, Force, accept my fear and my grief, take my sorrow and give me strength to comfort the survivors. Please, Force, bring my padawan home. Bring him home – take my life if you must have his or mine. I am old, and he is young. My life is largely behind me; his still lies ahead. If I die, let me die Let him live Bring him home Bring him home Bring him home. The first wave of casualties, the first casualty lists are coming in, I hear faintly through the roaring in my ears. This world seems to be receding from my hearing, voices faint yet the light is growing stronger. From a far distance, I think I hear: “Master.” J’ran is home! “Get the crash cart!” Someone barks. I’m being pulled in two directions – to the light – and to the words. Peace and light beckon home, home to the Force. Pain and pleas to respond restrain me where I am. “Master.” It is J’han’s voice, curiously warm and welcoming, calling me to where he is. My final thought is a most curious one: is it my temporal home, or spiritual home which J’ran is in, waiting for me to join him? ><>< Note #1: If anyone would like to beta for possible submission to the Archives, please PM me. Note #2: It's supposed to be ambiguous where our OC and his padawan end up, separately or together - it's reader's choice. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. 2007-2008 the quality years
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earlybird-obi-wan Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 9/4/08 1:13pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	Whew that ending I’m being pulled in two directions – to the light – and to the words. Peace and light beckon home, home to the Force. Pain and pleas to respond restrain me where I am. “Master.” It is J’han’s voice, curiously warm and welcoming, calling me to where he is. My final thought is a most curious one: is it my temporal home, or spiritual home which J’ran is in, waiting for me to join him? In the spiritual home they are United. Speachless. Beautiful writing. -----signature----- writer and Star Wars fan FANART [link=http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/25793899]fanart[/link] stories in my bio
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MsLanna Title: CR GSFF Central = Offizieller Burger Brater Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 9/4/08 1:19pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	Aw, this is beautiful. Love the end. Wonderful writing. To think that I clicked because I wondered who'd already be writing for the LAS (Life Action Series) that will only come out in four years... Very well rewarded stupidity on my side. -----signature----- I give up. Fett is great. Member of the waadas'dar Club. Cuyir adate jate, bal droten ori'dush Proud Master and buir'ika of Commander_Ducky. My New Title: Lords and Ladies of the Empire
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Tampopo Registered: Jul '06	Date Posted: 9/4/08 2:33pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	A marvelously enthralling piece. Stunning poignant ending. Simply outstanding -----signature----- Point Me Toward Tomorrow ~*~ http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29069267/p1/?12
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angry_bendu1 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 9/4/08 2:54pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	These younglings are so solicitous at this age; being around ‘em long I get a sugary high just from their presence – excuse me, I’m a Jedi master, I don’t wish to be sweet, I don’t need to be sweet, and I sure as the Force don’t – oh, sweet Force, she’s hooked me. I’m more than four times her age and no doubt twice her size. I’m uncomfortable, bored – and returning that sweet little smile as she pats me on the hand before leaving. Bah! I’ve been suckered again. Wow, you just brought a picture of my grandfather to mind. Crotchety and loving every minute of it. So sad, but very well done and the ending was perfect. I loved his padawans too. You made it really easy to have a connection with and a vested interest in those OC's. Excellent job! -----signature----- Ramblings of a Jedi (snarky Jesika's diary- filled w/ romance, sarcasm, etc.): http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28753761/p1/?0 I was staring at the orange juice because it said "concentrate". Proud owner of a '96 Geo Metro. "To the Crapmobile!"
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ratna Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 9/4/08 8:56pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	I guess it doesn't matter which home they are in, so long as they are together. -----signature----- “What we measure affects what we do. If we have the wrong metrics, we will strive for the wrong things.” Joseph E. Stiglitz
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Gkilkenny Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 9/4/08 9:42pm Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	Beautiful Master and Padawan together in the Force. -----signature----- Proud Padawan to p_stotts Peace over anger - honour over hate - Strength over fear. Links to Stories in my Bio. Obi-Wan forever.
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jedidas3 Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 9/5/08 8:12am Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	You continue to outdo yourself with such exquisite writing. A truly remarkable job, my dear friend. -----signature----- New Story: No Regrets http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/29659791/p1/?18 See bio for complete list of stories
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Alexis_Wingstar Registered: Sep '06	Date Posted: 9/5/08 9:36am Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	I thought I replied to this! This was very powerfully done. I cried at the end. Great job, Valairy. -----signature----- 3rd time NaNoWriMo Participant 3rd time's the charm, right? RIGHT?
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p_stotts Registered: Jan '01	Date Posted: 9/5/08 9:42am Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis
	I agree with earlybird, wonderful writing. I love the ending. The Force is indeed answering his plea. In this world or the next, he will see his padawan. Lovely, just lovely. -----signature----- How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand. - Larry the Cable Guy Proud master to Gkilkenny! Stories in my bio.
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Valairy_Scot Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 9/15/08 7:59am Subject: RE: Waiting is Its Own Slow Death. LAS Musical Challenge to Bring Him Home. OC's, AoTC, Geonosis - Date Edited: 9/15/08 10:06pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Valairy_Scot
	Earlybird-Obi-Wan: Ah, but what ending - at the Temple or in the Force? I deliberately left it ambiguous. MsLanna: Happy accident - thanks for reading. Tampopo: Thank you so much, for some reason I felt this one just clicked for me. Angry_bendu1: Your grandfather must be quite a character. ratna: Home, for a Jedi, can be anywhere. Gkilkenny: Together - but where? jedidas3: Thank you my friend for all your work and the inspiration you provide. Alexis_Wingstar: Actual ? Then I succeeded. p_stotts: Thanks so much for reading - I just love your current story. Oh - and Lazy - should I honored to receive the indexer's official note of disapproval? Am I the first recipient? -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. 2007-2008 the quality years
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