Saga Shattering the Hourglass (re-repost)

Category: Post-TPM (AU), Angst, POV
Rating: PG 13
Spoilers: JA, TPM
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all Star Wars characters. The rest belong to me. Not getting paid for this either so I guess I'll borrow them and return them relatively intact.
Feedback: Please don't hold back Time Frame: Post-TPM
Additional Note: I posted this 3-4 years ago (Yes, THAT long ago)
Another additional note: Posted this in the wrong forum...

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Red. I never had any reason to dislike the color before. It used to remind me of the soft glow of sunsets, the slightly parted lips of a woman, the rosy blush of an innocent child. It was beauty and fire flaming the human soul. Isn't it funny how one's perception can change in a few seconds? The few seconds it takes for a smile to blossom, for a teardrop to fall. The time it took the Sith to plunge his saber into my Master's chest. Now, the color no longer represents light but the dark. Each night, I dream, my sleep colored with a bloody hue of crimson. The red tinged force fields cycling on and off, trapping me on the other side as I watched the battle rage on. The flash of red as the Sith expertly whirls his two-sided saber with a hideous grin, knowing that he was stronger, faster than my Master. The hideous red tattoos decorating the face of one who walks on the Dark Side. My dreams are full of blood and screams, smoke and terror. Of my Master falling to the ground, my shout of denial. Of death. And failure. Abandonment.

Naboo. Oh, to be able to turn back the hands of time, to erase what has become a reality. It was there that my world as I knew it shattered into a million fragments, never to be made whole again. I picked myself up only because of duty, shutting away the crippling emotions that would have rendered me useless to stop my fall into the pits of despair. Once, when we were trying to put behind the sorrow that was Melida/Daan, Qui-Gon told me of a planet called Aurea and shattered glass pieced together so flawlessly, none would know the difference. The glass, he would say, was like a phoenix, even more beautiful after being broken. I wish I could say I believe I can be like the mythical bird of fire, which rose from the ashes to soar once again. It's all very well to repair a glass when the fragments are still there to be put back like a fragile puzzle, but can one fix the broken spirit of the human soul?

***

As I sit here watching you, dear Master, I wonder at the strangeness of it all. Here in the aftermath of the battle, our roles are reversed. In the normal course of events, I would be the injured party while you sat by my side, holding my hand, not letting go. And I would let sleep gently take me away because I know you'd be keeping vigil during the hours to come, guarding my dreams. Instead I find myself cradling yours, feeling the reassuring pulse of your heartbeat throbbing beneath my fingers. Your strong hands that used to soothe my brow, squeeze my shoulder and held me up when I was too weak to stand; your hands whose touch chased away my demons, whose warmth kept away the chill and whose strength sheltered me, keeping me safe from the horrors of the world. Now, in the embrace of my hands, they only manage to look fragile, ready to break at the slightest touch.

Shh, Master, don't you fret; I won't leave you alone with the chill of loneliness in this sterile room. Not like you did to me.

I'm jealous, Master. I'm jealous of a nine year old boy you called The Chosen One, who has somehow stolen your affection, your love away from me. Isn't it amazing how such a childish sentiment could come from me, a grown man of twenty-five? If you could hear my thoughts as they are now, you'd probably shake your head; tell me that I'm being overly sensitive and that nothing could ever break our bond. Am I right, Master? Am I right? Then you'll have to forgive me, Master. Forgive me for being unable to control this tide of jealousy, this green-eyed monster clawing within me. But can you blame me for conjur

 

I remember reading this years ago. It'll be great to read it again. Keep it up!

 

Oooh - I still have this story saved. It is one of my favorites - Can't wait for more.

Tyla

 

Wow, that's really good and believable. Obi-Wan's hurt is very well done.

 

Oh excellently well played out! Poor Obi-Wan... you did awesome with his characterization. Loved the musings and his angst. Poor man... if it so happened that Qui survived something like this I could believe would happen.

Well done!

 

Post...please?

 

Since I'm a relative newbie, this is brand new to me. But I love what I see so far.

 

Didn't know this one before and I really like it. Obi-Wan's sorrow and acceptance is well written. I'm looking forward to knowing what will happen to those three.