The long haired, dead Jedi watched. All day, every day he watched. He watched the Jedi, the Sith, and the Senate. He sighed. Things were bad. VERY bad. The Chosen One was being guided by a Sith, the Jedi Council were being misled and were straying off the track of the Light Side.
He sighed again. He to tell someone that the well-loved Chancellor was the detested Sith Lord the Jedi were looking for. He longed to go have a good talking to his old Padawan. But being dead had its problems. The dead Jedi sighed again. Some days, he liked being dead, other days he detested it.
So he sat and watched. Watched as the Chosen One became stronger in the Force. As the Clone Army was discovered. Watched, with pain, as his former Master, his idol when he was a Padawan, grow in strength on the Dark Side. As the love between a Senator and the Chosen One grew.
He intervened once, when he thought the Chosen One was going to turn to the Dark Side. He called out, almost begging him to stop. But to no avail. He watched, pained, as many Tusken Raiders died by an angry hand. Revenge for a loved one.
The dead Jedi decided to let fate play out. He saw everything. He saw the Battle of Geonosis. He saw the Chosen One get knighted, and saw the tears that no one else saw in the eyes of the Chosen One's Master. He saw the meeting of the Chosen One' and his Padawan. He saw the Senate's disorganisation. He saw the Chancellor controlling both sides of the War. He saw the wins and the losses, of both sides. He saw the Chosen One's Padawan walk away from the only life she had known. He missed nothing.
As he watched, he grew increasingly prouder. Prouder of his old Padawan. Prouder of the small boy he had found on that desert planet all those years ago. Oh how proud he was of them.
The kidnapping of the Chancellor, the death of his former Master, the pregnancy of a certain Senator. All these things he saw. And he knew the end of the Republic was near.
He felt the Force shifting. It was a lot Darker now and not so clear for those who were still alive. As the Sith Lord pulled the Chosen One closer to his downfall, the man watched. He was powerless to do anything to help.
He saw the Sith Lord confronted by the Jedi. He saw them die. He saw the Chosen One kill one of the most powerful Jedi ever to have lived. He could tell the Chosen One was distraught. For love he turned to the Dark Side, fuelled by its lies.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the boy wasn't the Chosen One. Maybe he had been wrong the whole time.
So he watched with sadness in his heart as the Chosen One went and killed all in the Jedi Temple, just like he had with the Tusken Raiders. He knelt before the Sith Lord, whose plans had gone exactly as he wanted them to turn out.
He watched as the Senator flew to her husband, but did not recognise him. He was a changed man. He almost killed her in a rage. The dead Jedi shook his head. His old Padawan was rather silly sometimes. As the fallen Chosen One battled his former Master, the man kept the Senator alive. He knew her children would change the galaxy. They needed to survive.
As he watched the epic battle, he could feel the Jedi dying all over the galaxy. All his old friends he had known. So many have died. But some have escaped, to fight another day.
The battle came to an end. The new Sith Lord writhed in pain as his former Master left to get medical help to the heavily pregnant Senator. The babies were going to come into the galaxy.
The new babies shone brightly in the Force. They had a very strong connection with it and had much potential. The old, green Master was present too. The Senator died, the babies cried. The dead Jedi sighed as the babies were separated. Maybe it was for the best.
He watched as the old, green Master went into exile. As a Senator took the girl, the man's old apprentice took the boy to his family. They would grow up knowing nothing of their parentage.
He watched the Black Monster, the Emperor's new apprentice. Yes, there was light left in him, but not much and it was buried very deeply. There may be no hope for him now.
With no power to do anything, the dead man sat. Waiting. Watching.
