Warnings: no real sex, sorry; some violence, implied rape
Disclaimer: They are George's and I envy him.
Feedback: Oh, please, please, yes!!!
Summary: That scene once more - but a little bit
different...
Thanks: To my beta Pooka, who did a great job!
Dedicated: To my Padawan Mhij-Qij, who is responsible for
turning my life upside down when she mailed me a few stories
the night after the movie.
Please note: This is my first-first Q/O story - I saw the
movie just 3 1/2 weeks ago - so forgive, if I do that
scene again when it has been done a hundred times already. For
me the hurt is still very fresh, and so is the need to redo the
scene. Be gentle with me.
From one heartbeat to the next, his world shattered. One
heartbeat and the world was as it had been, all as it should
be. Even though this heartbeat was frightened and fast - not an
unusual state when it was being forced to watch the one it
shared an unbreakable link with be in danger. But still the
galaxy rotated as it always had done, the planet under his feet
breathed, the Force connected him with all life here and
elsewhere. The world was safe and everything was understood.
There was a souldeep comfort in being part of the flow.
Then there was that almost unmeasurable space between this
heartbeat and the next.
And the world plunged into darkness, the galaxy jangled loose,
the Force a shattered flicker, unsteady like a
will-'o-the-wisp, dropping the ground from under his feet,
letting all suns set simultaneously, as if swallowed by a
gaping black hole.
The next heartbeat brought the dawn of a new world, a
red-drenched world where there was nothing left but despair.
The Force ricocheted on the walls of his mind, laughing,
ungrabbable.
Obi-Wan Kenobi's heart beat on. Even if his mind couldn't
understand how. The pain lacing through his breast was like
nothing he had ever felt before or even imagined to be
possible. Even the mere thought had brought more pain than he
dared admit to, always denied fast and stored away in the back
of his mind. But no denial could save him from the reality now
- the reality before his glazing eyes, the reality slicing
through his mind like a laser, making him howl like a mortally
wounded animal and whimper like a lost cub, lying on its
slaughtered mother's breast, utterly alone and frightened.
He watched as his best friend, his beloved mentor, the only
father he had ever known curled into himself on the floor. Only
meters away from him, galaxies apart. The big, competent and so
tender hands clutching over a wound they could not hold
together by physical force alone.
His mental cry still echoed in the Force. He grasped
desperately for the essence that was the one soul he loved more
than life. But he could not grasp it, the other mind was
shielding too hard, he could not even find it. Through the
Force he clawed at those shields, begging for an answer, for
anything but this suffocating blank, this stillness in the
Force where a moment before had shone such a bright beacon -
always there to guide, to sooth, to wrap around him with
warmth.
A black wall appeared before him and his wild bucking heart
missed a beat in confusion - for a moment he forgot where he
was.
Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up and locked with the orange-glowing
ones of the demon on the other side of the laser-wall. It was
only a hair's breath of sanity that didn't let him launch
forward to haul himself onto this darkness in disguise of man,
this destroyer of his world, this defiler of all he held dear.
He saw the snicker in the twisted face of him, saw his
taunting. The Sith sauntered over to his master and poked an
unfriendly boot into his ribs, getting no response, which
seemed to suite him well. His orange eyes never left the young
Jedi, his pointed teeth flashing between his black tattooed
lips like sunbleached bones.
"This the best you Jedi had? This old man? A tottering old man
and a whelp." To hear that rough, ugly voice defiling his
master, the best swordsman of a whole generation, ignited
Obi-Wan even more - if possible. The Sith tried to provoke him
to give into rage and hate...as if he had needed prompting
anymore, sucked under as he was already in the maelstrom of
dark emotions, loosing his connection to the living Force by
the second.
The Sith stepped to the side of the laser-wall again.
Come, Jedi-cub. Clear in his mind, contempt dripping
like acid, staining his mind through the mere contact. The
Force felt defiled, too, in this moment, sickening circles of
slime instead of the clear blue wavering he knew. Energy
pockets exploded inside the flow like opened abscesses, lacing
the Force with red-black streaks of stinking gore. The black
swell licked on him, drowning coherent thought, sliding like a
blanket over the awareness of the Force he had known, leaving
only a burning in him, a blinding hate. His breath came in
gusts, his eyes darting from the fallen form to the laughing
Sith-Lord, willing the barrier to open....now. And as if at
last bending to his command, he heard the beginning of
mechanical movement.
Obi-Wan grasped the dark swelling inside him, molded it to his
needs, bending the wave inside him -just as the lasers cycled
and opened up for him.
With an inhuman outcry he jumped into the room and engaged the
Sith.
Their blades collided, drew back again and came back together
in blinding speed. The whirling double-sword's lightning speed
matched effortlessly by a blue flame which had never before
moved so fast. The paries came faster than muscles could
possibly answer to nerves - even Jedi-nerves.
Never had Obi-Wan Kenobi fought with such vehemence, such
brutal force but such deadly precision. In this moment he was
his saber, the saber the Force. His hits landed hard on the red
blades, a hammering staccato of primeval hate.
The black swell inside him came down on him, bending the light
for him and the double-sword of his opponent snapped in two, as
he got it in an upward thrust.
The Sith stumbled backward, thrown out of balance and fell.
With a feral growl, Obi-Wan closed in on him, mercilessly, his
soul honed in for the kill.
The black-clad man managed to deflect his blow one handed,
scrambling back, coming to his feet again and somersaulted over
the Jedi's head. It brought him out the reach of this
Jedi-Apprentice-turned-berserker, breaking the momentum of the
attack, breaking the spell Obi-Wan had been under. The Dark
inside his mind receded like the tide, the manifestations of
the Dark Side of the Force faltered, left him, drew his
strength with it, leaving him sweating and shaking.
His burning eyes found his enemy again, that tattooed face
showing keen alertness to the shift in the Force -and then
there was comprehension dawning and the ugly smile reappeared.
The Sith attacked him again and Obi-Wan found himself in the
defensive, blocking blows, not directing them. Step by step he
was forced to recede, to give way, his burning arm-muscles not
longer able to obey the commands of his brain, his reaction
slower each ticking second of deflecting the brutal force
coming down on him.
Something in him resigned.
It was over.
Had his master had this insight, too, before he fell?
The thought was accompanied with sudden calm washing over him.
Master, wait for me - I'm coming! he thought, a clear
blast in the Force and he thought he got an answer this time,
just a faint flicker, but there nonetheless.
Obi-Wan...
Darth Maul, was confused about the beatific smile washing over
the Jedi-Apprentice's bone weary face. But he had no problems
blocking the sudden attack his foe had launched upon him, too
obvious was the uncoordinated mustering of last strength. Oh,
the hits, once more, came fast, feral, but the strength behind
them was gone, no finesse left, and it took only a moment for
him to bring the forward motion of the Jedi to a halt, their
lightsabers crossed sparkling only a hand's breath over the
handles, mere centimeters from their faces. A snarl was on the
flushed, sweat-dripping one before him, defying him even now.
Admirable but useless. It was so easy.
His master had been right, they had been no match for him.
Sensing no strength left in the whelp, Darth Maul confidently
loosened one hand from his lightsaber's handle and made an
almost casual gesture, stabbing his open palm in Obi-Wan's
direction, channeling the Force through it, causing a hard
shove that hit the unprepared Jedi squarely in the chest,
careening him over like a broken puppet, thumping him against
the wall with a satisfying crunch.
The little Jedi-puppy moaned, trying to move, to get his arms
under him. On his elbows, his frantic eyes searched for his
weapon - still not defeated. The Sith laughed aloud, bringing
the pale eyes to him. He stood at the edge of the pit, his red
lightsaber in a classic Jedi-defense-pose beside his head,
knowing how his mocking would make the picture of ultimate
victory complete. The whelp's deactivated lightsaber lay beside
his left boot. With almost nonchalance he toed it into the
abyss, never taking his glowing eyes from his prey.
Maul saw the flicker of despair in the enormous grey-blue eyes
locked on him and rejoiced. The victory burned hot in his
breast, an euphoria to compare with nothing else.
He watched as the whelp shifted his gaze to his fallen master,
a shift in the Force, like an icy breeze on the Sith's mind.
Then serenity settled over the young Jedi's face, before he
fell to his face, his arms having given out under him.
"Yes, say goodbye to your master, cub," he hissed, stepping
over to the crumbled form at the wall.
He toed the man on his back, getting no real protest, only a
halfhearted defensive gesture with one hand, which did not more
than tear the hem of his skirts. He looked down at the
disheveled and sweat-drenched enemy, his milky-white sets of
tunics ajar, his silly apprentice-braid sticking to his wet,
heaving chest. He snarled, thinking of how arrogantly the Jedi
presented themselves in their immaculate, pristine whites,
knowing how striking they were looking, especially this cocky
little bastard, he had often seen on Coruscant. He cocked his
head to one side. Not so striking anymore. And now he would mar
these looks and the pristine whites a little bit more. Lifting
his red blade, he held it casually over the neck of the Jedi.
A small movement to his right brought his attention to where
the older man lay.
Qui-Gon Jinn was dying.
The cry for help, his body was sending to his brain was only a
fading echo as he moved more into the blue swirl around him,
its call irresistible...and why should he resist at all? The
thought came, flickered away again. But there was still
something that had a grab on him, not allowing him to go just
this moment. A fleeting touch of his apprentice's mind, asking
him to wait - wait for what? Obi-Wan he thought
....for wha... This too was lost again.
After a while a ripple in the Force came to to him and he
touched it almost in an afterthought, seeing a Vision then,
distant, saw a young man in white, another in black, saw them
struggle and the one in white defeated. A red flame held by the
dark one bored itself into the breast of the other, a mouth
open in a silent cry, blue eyes bugging, a last tear running
down a smooth cheek and then the same eyes blank, broken, empty
shells, staring upward, to him....Qui-Gon shivered and the
Force welled sluggishly around him as he lost hold of the
vision which rippled away to be lost again in the general flow.
Visions of the future wasn't his talent, never had been, so
why now, for that had been the future, hadn't it? The feeling
of imminent danger settled in him and he couldn't find peace
anymore in the flow and ebb around him, its psychic warmth
suddenly suffocating.
The cry of his body became stronger and Qui-Gon felt himself
called back into it and not resisting he settled in it again,
instantly smothered by the dull pain that was his middle, or
what was left of it. Stomach and liver were only glued together
chunks of congealed proteins. He was quite well cooked and that
thought was somehow humorous, so he chuckled. No sound
escaping, but his body shook with it.
The movement brought other awareness and he managed to lift
heavy lids, first blinded by the light, then making out the
black and blue surrounding. Confused he turned his head, or
better let it simply fall to the side and met red-glowing eyes
of an apparition. No. Real. Too real. Remembering him. The
fight. Finding himself with an opponent he could not beat. With
this - man. Or what ever he was, never having seen one like him
before. Sith.
So, you are not dead, hm?
Qui-Gon winced back from that seething touch in his mind,
getting the full blast of hate mixed with hot triumph. His eyes
fell and found his apprentice. He lay like a broken doll at the
feet of the Sith, the red lightsaber hovering over his exposed
chest. A chest that still rose and fell in heavy gasps - the
vision had been True then - and he had come in time---to what?
To see his padawan murdered? Or to prevent it? It couldn't be
that he had been drawn back here only to witness....
A shudder ran through his body and abstractedly he got aware
of the struggling that took place in himself, his heart beating
too fast in a hectic shallow pumping, his blood sacking away in
the depth of his body, cold shivers crawled over him in
response. For a moment Qui-Gon had to focus himself on his
shock-wrecked body and directed strength to his heart and to
consciously deepen and even out his breath, to tighten up the
slack muscles of his veins...and finding he almost could not.
It was like running through hip-deep water, exhausting,
unproductive, an enormous energy drain on empty power cells.
Qui-Gon understood then that he would be unable to prevent
anything happening outside his body. He was so weak, his body
begging for sleep he could not grant it. He could not even find
the strength to lift his head. He tried to Force-augment and
couldn't grasp anymore of it as he already was -becoming aware
with a start, how heavily he already leaned on the Force. That
without it there would no life left anymore in this body. A
dying body had it's limits, that was one truth - and Force or
not, Jedi died. But he could not quit now, Qui-Gon decided
stubbornly.
Attention back on the Sith, he saw him grin. He didn't like it
at all; it was the malevolent grin of a horror rejoicing in the
pain of the helpless. It was the hungry snarl of a torturer
turned on by the cries of his victims.
Fear gripped him. Not for himself, but for his young
apprentice. That fear had brought him back here, but, the Fates
were cruel, didn't let him interfere, degrading him to an
impotent spectator.
And the Sith knew.
He saw him poke Obi-Wan into the side, saw him not looking at
his victim but at him. The glowering eyes spoke as
clearly as had he done so with that husky voice of his that he
didn't care to hear again. The Sith wanted him broken, wanted
him shamed. The Sith weighed his padawan as too little, as
being no more than a tool for him to gain the satisfaction of
the total destruction of a Jedi-Master.
All this he read in the red eyes and it was unbearable to be
made the reason for torturing an innocent. He wanted to argue
with the wraith but knew it would be fruitless. The Sith knew
how to get him. Knew nothing would hurt him more than watching
him torture and kill his ward. So he wanted a reaction from him
--- he would be disappointed, for Qui-Gon had nothing left to
show emotion with but his eyes. And he would not give him even
that.
Obi-Wan's muddled brain was unable to comprehend what was
happening. The pain in his cracked skull and broken ribs and
the burn down his front sucked him into the neverland of shock.
The only coherent thought was the question of why he wasn't
dead.
A brutal twinge closed around his neck and he was jostled
about, he felt as if his brain has come loose in his skull and
it hurt. Then he was shoved full length against a cold surface,
a wall he guessed. Held there by the fist around his neck,
which made breathing hard, he knew nothing but the sudden cold
on his shivering limbs as their covering was ripped from them.
He was not even aware of having lifted his arms in defense -
but was very aware as something hard collided with his groin,
pressing a gasp from him.
Don't move, scum.
The ugly snarl crawled over his consciousness like filthy,
mucky slime. Pain radiated from his groin in waves, setting his
spine on fire and instead of doing as the voice demanded, he
reached out on instinct only, an automatism of a
Force-sensitive, feeling for the Force blindly, finding it and
using it to shove the attacker from him. The pressure around
his neck loosened instantly and he sagged to the floor again,
unable to stay on his legs, but his vision cleared now.
His eyes opened right at the moment to see a boot coming his
way - his defense came too late and the boot connected solidly
with his jaw, whirling him back, letting him hit the wall
behind him again with a thud. He bit down on his tongue hard
and the warm, sickening sweetness of blood filled his mouth.
Pain shot up from his back as the boot made contact with his
kidneys.
Eyes burning from having forgotten to blink, Qui-Gon watched
as the Sith did not simply proceed to kill his padawan but
yanked the clothing from the slack body. The Sith manhandled
him and stilled a short bout of defiance with brutal force.
The Sith grinned over to him again as he had Obi-Wan curled up
into a fetal position at his feet.
"Make an end, man," Qui-Gon growled from lips that wouldn't
really move.
"Oh, it is just the beginning. Watch, venerable Sword-Master."
A hand in Obi-Wan's hair hauled him around from where he lay
on his face and shook him like a wet towel, but there was
nothing left in Obi-Wan to react with. His brain too muddled
with pain, the Force a distant flicker he could barely reach,
but it was a small comfort for him.
Then something was with him there, a presence of sudden black
terror, something creeped along the thin line he held to the
Force and yanked him away from it with ease. Grating laughter
filled his world as suddenly as a biting new pain shot up from
the low of his back. He jacknifed under it, left alone by the
Force, left alone without any mental disciplines. He cried out.
Again. And again.
He knew then how it was to be violated.
His mind and body were invaded by black slime which was
delighted by the total surrender it forced. Showing with glee
how helpless he was, only a toy in the hands of the mighty.
See, little Jedi, what your pitiful skills are against the
Dark Side?? Again that laughter. Nothing!
Obi-Wan tried to ignore the voice, tried to separate himself
from his body, to still all thoughts, tried to flow into the
Force again. The black slime tore at him, but he slipped
through it's grip like a whisper of smoke.
Qui-Gon watched helplessly as the demon proceeded to beat the
young Jedi into submission and then...Fates, no....he heard his
apprentice's cries of pain. His own heart beating so fast it
was almost stopped in effort. Obi-Wan's wail burned on his soul
like a magma imprint.
This was the one he had sworn to protect when taking him in as
padawan all those years ago, not only as a student but also a
surrogate child. His responsibility - a definite pleasure in
Obi-Wan's case - was to bring him into adulthood unscarred. He
had failed. His padawan was beaten and raped to death in front
of his eyes. If he only could ease Obi-Wan's pain, if he only
wasn't so weak. Shattered to the bone by his padawan's anguish,
almost dead through his own, Qui-Gon let himself drift again,
down into the Force, leaving only the tiniest tendril to his
body.
It was hard to banish all disturbing thoughts, but decades of
mental discipline were not denied and Obi-Wan's mind signature
drew him in like a beacon, his pain a white torch in the Force.
Master? Please? Don't leave without me....
When Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's mind, he found him on the brink
of dispersing himself into the Force, wavering on the very
threshold, crying desperately for him, a frightened
child once more crying for its parent. No, a dying man calling
for his love...Qui-Gon let the startling revelation go and
reached out for his apprentice.
I am here, padawan he called softly and instantly he
was there, Obi-Wan's beautiful soul wrapping itself around him
like a second skin, trying to become one with him, obviously
thinking his master had joined the Force for good.
Qui-Gon took him in and hot regret overwhelmed him for that
such a bright spirit, such a soul should be cheated of the full
life he had thought it was destined to have. This end had not
been foreseen by anyone. Even Yoda had told him once he saw
Obi-Wan's destiny intermingled with that of the future of the
Galaxy. He had found great satisfaction in that prospect and
gratitude to be chosen to be the one to lead this young life
into a bright future. If there only was a chance...Obi-Wan was
so extraordinarily strong in the Force, only his grip of it was
still erratic and raw.
When he only could persuade him to find that well of unbridled
energy, to let it loose for once.
No. Obi-Wan. Don't let go of your body yet. Hear me,
boy! A hard command to be obeyed. Obi-Wan more felt than
heard what was asked of him. And he was always obedient to the
man he loved.
As instructed he gathered for one last time all he was, all he
presented in the Force, even that uncontrollable part he
feared, and shoved it outside. The Force tingled down shut-down
nerves, imploded with the midi-chlorianae in his cells in a
burst of blue light, channeling it to his fingers, letting it
leap over to - something that howled loud inside and
outside the Force. And vanished.
The Force in him was like a living thing now, doing what it
pleased, ebbing through his body, healing, mending, lulling him
into thoughtlessness. The quality changed, veils thinned,
vaguely he was aware of another presence again, realizing that
it had been with him for some time. The bright flame of the
mental signature let him fly to it like a moth to a flame.
Master!!
You have done well, my padawan, his master praised, the
craved-for mind-voice so warm, washing affection over him in
gentle waves.
Something tugged at him and his consciousness returned into
his body, his eyes blinking open into the physical world. All
his senses came back to life with a start. He ached.
Everywhere. With an effort he lifted himself on his elbows,
finding the strength to lift his heavy head from the cold deck
that branded like ice against the naked skin of his whole
frontside. He looked around, finding the memory of this room
again, finding the memory of what had occurred here.
The Sith was nowhere in sight and a sudden knowledge let him
be found on the bottom of a four hundred meter-deep reactor
shaft.
Expelling a shuddering breath he came totally to his senses...
Master! he squeaked in sudden terror and turned to his
side to look at where the body of his master had rested - and
found him exactly where he should be.
Qui-Gon lay prone on his back, his hands still pressed on his
middle, but his head was turned to him and soft dark-blue eyes
regarded him with nothing but love.
Obi-Wan couldn't suppress a sob as he saw his master alive.
With effort he crawled over to him, not aware he was leaving a
broad smear of blood on the shiny black surface of the deck.
Obi-Wan was crying, when he reached the other man. He cradled
the head of his master in his shaky hands, finding the skin
pale and clammy, but Force, he could also feel the warm blood
pulse steadily under it. He sobbed and buried his face into in
the long hair of the older man.
"You're alive. I thought I'd lost you."
A shaking hand wound itself into his hair, stroking the sweat
and blood soaked spikes.
"I won't leave you, my padawan." A snort. " At least not
without a fight."
Obi-Wan looked up again then, staring deeply into the
midnight-blue eyes.
"Don't do that to me again. Leaving me behind." Meaning the
fight, meaning this life.
"Not by my free will." The shaking hand in his hair came down
to ran down his braid, stiff with congealed blood, then up
again to cup his cheek. Sorrow darkened blue irises to black.
"I'm sorry I couldn't prevent..." Obi-Wan took hold of the
hand on his cheek and turned his face to place a kiss on the
cool palm.
So Qui-Gon had seen it all, had to watch his violation. He had
not known he had been used as a weapon against his master,
thinking him gone. But when he thought about it - - as he had
been barely conscious for the most time and left with no clear
memory of anything that occurred, except pain everywhere, the
whole show would have been wasted on him anyway--a wry thought.
His heart ached for his master, knowing he would feel guilty
and longed to ease this gentle man's mind.
"Don't. Without you I would have given up. You came for me."
Qui-Gon only smiled that little sad smile of his.
Obi-Wan bent down to lay a soft kiss on his brow, gratitude
and awe in his eyes.
"You came and saved me."
"I only showed you the way, my padawan."
"As you always do." Obi-Wan shook his head, wondering how he
had deserved this man. He locked eyes with Qui-Gon again,
letting them speak the full of his heart.
The sorrow in his master's eyes changed to wonder, reading his
eyes, reading his heart. A cold fingertip stroked down his
cheek.
"You love me that much?"
Obi-Wan's battered face cracked into a smile.
"Oh, you can't imagine how much. "
He bent to press his cheek to Qui-Gon's clammy one, holding
fast, still not really believing his master was here, alive,
not believing his heart was allowed to live on.
"I don't deserve you, Obi-Wan."
The young man's head shoot up. "Don't ever say that! You'll
all I'll ever love!" Acting out of the spur of the moment,
Obi-Wan bent down, laying his mouth over the slightly
blue-tinged lips. "All I'll ever love, " her repeated, now a
real kiss, loosing himself in the caress of the soft, cool
flesh.
"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered in that voice, that made the
simple words into a soft endearment. The young man burst out in
tears again.
Pressing kisses all over the bearded face he tried to convey
with his lips what his bursting heart could not tell otherwise.
Qui-Gon stopped him with both hands on the sides of his face.
"Calm yourself, padawan," he ordered and Obi-Wan did his best
to obey. He tried to still this frightened shivering inside,
this need to crawl into his beloved master, to be one with his
life-force again. Tried to stop remembering the echo their
touch inside the Force they had left a short while ago.
A soft touch on his mouth brought him to the here and now
again. His master's lips left his almost reluctantly. Obi-Wan
thought he must sink and drown into the deep blue sea of
Qui-Gon's smiling eyes.
"We have time enough, Obi-Wan," he was told. "But now I need
my padawan."
Obi-Wan's forehead creased in confusion.
Qui-Gon's hand took hold of his right one and brought it down
to his stomach, under the folds of cloth. Obi-Wan could feel
the burned flesh under his fingertips, felt the melted tissue,
the gaping wound, and fear gripped him again.
"Master, you need a Healer of the Order!"
"Shhh," Qui-Gon soothed. "I think we can do it, you and I."
The young Jedi needed a little bit help from the Force to sit
up straight, but once upright, with the remains of his clothes
wrapped tightly around him, he felt confidence settle. When
Qui-Gon thought they could do it, they could. He was at a point
where he thought there was nothing they couldn't overcome
together.
The worst problem with lightsaber wounds was the tendency of
the human body to go into shock immediately. Somehow Qui-Gon
had managed to keep his body going. Obi-Wan had the suspicion
that worrying about him had done it - there was no real fear in
death for a Jedi, and if Qui-Gon hadn't had someone to live
for....Obi-Wan thanked all the Fates for it.
With gentle fingers he opened the layers of fabric down to
Qui-Gon's waist, exposing the ugly wound directly under his
master's diaphragm. A little bit higher and Qui-Gon had been
beyond any help. Icy fingers sizzled down his spine and he
closed his eyes to expel the disquieting images. Cool fingers
touched his cheek, giving silently comfort. He leaned for a
second or two into the calloused palm and then met the
concerned blue eyes.
"It's alright, really," he reassured, squeezing the fingers.
Then he bend over his task, splaying his fingers over the
wound, stilling all thought, letting calm wash over himself.
"Come with me, Qui-Gon", he asked and sank deep into the Force
to join there with the loving essence of his master and
entwined themselves in the sorely needed healing trance.
The Force whirled benevolently around this two of its own, two
who not only joined their healing powers but also created a
greater whole to never be separated again.
Epilogue
Far away, in a lofty room high above the City of Coruscant,
Jedi-Grandmaster Yoda sat in deep meditation. For a long time
there was only stillness on his serene face, then, ever so
slowly, a soft smile crept into the corners of his mouth and
eyes, smoothing away the sorrow-lines of foreseen tragedy as if
they never had been.
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