Saga Something a Little Stronger (Post-ROTS, Viggie)

Genre: Angst
Summary: A fugitive Jedi contemplates his life since the dreaded Purges.

This idea came up and bit my toe. So as punishment, I turned it into the viggie equivalent of a toad. Enjoy.




It?s cold here, in this tiny, forsaken pub on its tiny, forsaken lane. Dim. Guess I should be thankful?dim means it?s harder to recognize features, harder to see clearly. Easier to escape, if I need to.

They?re still looking for me. For the Jedi, if any are left.

If there are, they?re much better at hiding than I am. I haven?t found one. Haven?t spoken to one person of my past in?Force, years. Countless, faceless, unheeded years. I?m not sure exactly how many have passed me, but they have, and they?re still coming. I don?t keep track of the hours per day, let alone the months. No point, really, when you?re alone.

There aren?t any Life Days left to celebrate; everyone I?ve ever loved is dead, and for all the difference it makes to me, the anniversary of my birth is just another forgotten tradition, surrendered along with everything else I used to know. There aren?t and holidays?not for me. Sometimes other people celebrate, but I don?t.

This clothing is uncomfortable, itchy, but I ignore it, taking another sip of the strange local spirits. Discomfort is not a new concept. It?s been a long while since the Empire took hold, and I?ve gotten rather accustomed to these tight civilian clothes. (I?ve yet to find anything as comfortable as my old robes, and I don?t expect to. Nothing fits me as well as my tunics?just one of the many small things I find myself missing.)

Isn?t that ridiculous? There is enough potential angst, enough loss, enough smoldering, acidic ache in my heart to fill three Coruscants, and I find myself thinking about the way my shirt and pants fit.

It would be redundant to tell you that life has changed astronomically since...well, I prefer to think of it as the Day the Temple Fell, since The Day That Hope Died and Justice Was Forsaken is a little wordy. There?s little to be gained in telling you that every breath catches in my lungs and every heartbeat marks one more moment that I am alone?doubtless, you can deduct these facts for yourselves.

Some things are impossible to put adequately into words. And in such cases, it?s better just not to try.

So I won?t.

The bartender takes an unnecessarily long time doctoring up a drink, allowing his bulbous yellowed eyes to wander over me once or twice. This sort of behavior doesn?t bother me: few things do, now anyway.

When I was young, everything was potentially irritating or disconcerting. I lost count of all the times that Master scolded me?for being impatient, for being short-tempered, for being reckless, audacious, irresponsible? These days, I?m lucky to muster up drowsiness in the evenings and mild hunger in the mornings. All of the old, familiar emotions have deserted me. A blessing or a curse, I ask you? A sickness or a cure?

?What?ll you have?? rasps the bartender, noticing my empty glass.

?Doesn?t matter,? answers my voice, indifferent and light. ?Perhaps something a little stronger.?

He takes my glass and turns, staring at me curiously. No doubt he is wondering how I have managed to consume so many drinks and still speak without slur or hindrance. If he asks, I might tell him what I?ve never admitted to anyone in so many words: even the most potent spirits have trouble penetrating this numbness that has taken me over. Even pain, even hunger, even loneliness find it difficult.

Even compassion.

That is, possibly, what I miss the most: compassion. Not just being on the receiving end, but being on the giving end. I was no stranger to compassion in the days of the Jedi, when my life revolved around protecting the lives of others. Many a nights on many a mission I lay down beside my Master?and, later, my Padawan?and felt my chest fill with sorrow, with pity and dedication for the people we?d been sent to help. Blind, instinctive empathy. I miss it.

Most nights, I don?t lie in bed at

 

"Blind, instictive empathy. I miss it."

And, everyone that he cared about is dead...

A very thought-provoking piece on the life as a fugitive Jedi. You capture the emotions and poignant memories quite well!

 

Such a poignant piece. It was written quite beautifully and you've captured the feelings very well. Bravo!