So Much For Shore Leave

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A/N: Apologies for the sporadic updates. This summer has turned out to be quite busy. Rest assured I am committed to working on this piece, and I also have a few others I'm currently working on that I can't wait to start uploading as well. Thank you guys so much for reading! Stay tuned!

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I'm 10 years old, clutching my lightsaber in my hands, I desperately bat away blaster shot after blaster shot. I push forward beside Padme and her small band of soldiers as we advance towards the center of the palace. Our troupe had pressed through several long halls before we were finally out-flanked.

"Put down your weapons, they win this round," Padme says to us. She is calm—meaning she's still got a plan. Still...I was not supposed to be here. My master gave me an order to stay in the hangar with Anakin, but at the first sign of trouble, we both agreed we couldn't just sit around. He and R2 took the starfighter to the battle above us, while I remained below and regrouped with Padme. I was able to take down several droids on my way to them. I was young, sure, and probably had no sense charging into the heat of battle like this, but I wasn't useless—I could help. Once I met up with them, we were actually handling things quite well, victory seemed almost too easy. Perhaps I got a little too confident, which is what led us to the situation we're in now.

I reluctantly withdraw my saber and drop it on the floor. The droids encircle us and lead us at gunpoint to the central chamber where Nute Gunray and his associates await. He turns to us, addressing Padme, "Your little insurrection is at an end, your highness. Time for you to sign the treaty and end this pointless debate in the Senate."

That's when I feel it. A sudden sharp and burning pain, like a blade has run right through my stomach. I stumble back, clutching my injury. When I remove my hand and look down, there's nothing there. It's not me. I am feeling someone else's pain. I can feel the wound sucking the life out of me, they are about to die...someone needs to help...someone—Master! I suck in a breath and fall to my knees. Qui-Gon...my master...he's gone.

The grief washes over me in a flood of devastation and rage. I am cut off from the world around me. I can only feel my master taking his last breaths, I hear Obi-Wan's pained cry, I taste blood, and I crave...vengeance. I fall forward onto my hands, they ball up into tight fists. Tears stream down my face. Qui-Gon, my master, the man who raised me, to whom I owed everything, was gone. My hands push off the floor and I throw my head back and I scream.

Every window in the chamber shatters. The floor seems to quake underneath me, and every droid in the room is thrown back, as though they were hit by a shockwave. The last thing I see through angry eyes is Padme pointing her blaster at the Viceroy's head. I wished she would pull the trigger.

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I am 20 now, still clinging to my saber as I stare down the fearsome Sith Lord before me. I know not to underestimate this foe. Anakin and Obi-Wan lay on the ground defeated behind me. I was able to join the battle at the last minute and deflect a blow that would have meant the end of both their lives, but not without sustaining heavy damage myself. I pant, my knees quiver, and my arm burns ferociously from being hit by that force lightning.

Count Dooku draw forth his saber again, addressing me. "Not many Jedi could have survived that hit." He seems impressed almost. "Your old Master would have been proud."

I know what he is doing, my eyes narrow. "Sorry, that's not going to work!" I bark at him, he was trying to get a rise out of me by mentioning Qui-Gon. He was going to make me angry so I'd make a mistake and allow him to kill all three of us. I would not let that happen.