Erstwhile

Haunted

Growing up on the streets hadn't been easy, and occasionally, in the effort of survival, I'd gotten into a few scrapes. I'd been hunted, chased, beaten--you name it, but no pain I'd suffered in my past came even close to the pain that I was feeling now. I could sense the infection burrowing deeper into my flesh. Blue webs spread across my leg, and with every inch of skin they gained, I could feel my body slowing down and succumbing.

But my pain ran ever deeper.

Beneath the infection, past the blood and the muscle, was my guilt. We'd left camp hours ago, setting a course for the crashed Imperial ship, hoping against hope that I'd be able to contact my friends. Over and over I attempted to push my guilt away, but no matter how hard I tried, I found that I could not remove the truth.

I was abandoning Ashoka.

It was a Padawan's job to protect his Master, and although Ashoka technically wasn't my Master--Kanan was--she still represented something. Ashoka represented the great Jedi Knights of old and the hope and freedom they'd brought to the Galaxy.
If Ashoka was to die--succumbing to her own madness--her death would be another mark signifying the end of an era of Light.

How could I stand by and just let that happen?

I'm doing this for them, I thought and glanced around at the soldiers walking in front of and behind me. Doc was as rigid as ever, and Gear appeared to be having a heated conversation with Chopper, but Stance, he was different. His face was solemn--almost as if he was reminiscing.

Stopping suddenly, Stance faced one of the giant mushrooms and clacked his heels together. The only movement coming from the rising and falling of his chest, Stance placed his hand at his brow, saluting. For a few moments he stood there in that position of respect, until finally he continued marching.

"What was that?" I whispered to Gear.

"That's where Will died," he explained, eyeing the soldier we were talking about, "Although he died years back--whenever we pass there, he always salutes."

"He refuses to forget his friend's memory," I suggested.

"No, I don't think that's it," Gear disagreed, "I don't think he refuses to forget Will, I think he can't."

"What do you mean?"

"Stance tries to hide it, but he murmurs when he sleeps, and whenever he does..." He fell silent, "I think he's haunted by the fact that he was too late to save him."

At his explanation, I paused for a moment and looked back to the place where Stance had saluted. Nothing was particularly significant about it, but upon further investigation, I spotted a dark stain on the mushroom's crisp white stalk. Without doubt, I knew that Gear had told me the truth: someone had died there.

I understood why Stance felt so guilty. Considering that Will and he had been such great comrades, he must have been devastated when Will died and angry at the Empire for leaving them. If I left Ashoka--if I was unable to save her--would she haunt me just as Will haunted Stance?

I'd been at a crossroads, and I'd chosen my path, but now, I was looking back, regretting the path I'd chosen. If I had chosen to try to find Ashoka--condemning the clones to remain on this planet forever--I know I would've felt just as guilty. Even so, I cursed my decision.

I'd stowed away on this mission, completely oblivious to the peril I would face but determined to be there for Ashoka in her time of need. Since my initial concern, Ashoka's situation had multiplied by tenfold, and now more than ever was I called to be there for her. How could I call myself a Padawan if I refused that call?

Yanking my eyes from the silent memorial, I kept plodding onward.

Hey everyone!!
This was kind of a filler chapter, but even so, I hope you liked it!! Please comment and let me know what you thought. Don't forget to vote!!
Before I close, I'd just like to thank all of you readers. When I first started this fan fiction, it was more for my own enjoyment than anything, but you guys made it so much more. Thank you.
Julie :D