I highly recommend that you read that first.
I'm going to give official titles to these two installments now. The first will be called Star Wars: Dynasty Born. The second will be,
Star Wars: I, Skywalker
When he awoke from what seemed like an endless fall through a black abyss, Justin found the world around him a distorted vision of a medical lab in pale blue. It only took a moment’s time—and the sudden, rushing pain in his torso—for him to recall what had happened. Jenna had attacked him. Not only that, she had cut him down.
The world he’d known for the last few weeks was just a whirlwind. It was more than a waste of time on his part; it caused wounds that will leave scars for the rest of his life. And some scars are more than skin deep.
He’d began that time searching for a rogue Jedi. What he found was a hole; a wound in the Force. A Force-sensitive so fucked up that she drew on the life of the Galaxy around her to survive. And he loved her.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, for humans. He didn’t rightly know other sentients expression for that sentiment. But he did see then why he wasn’t a Master. Though, he’d liked to have believed being a Master wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. He wanted to believe Master Yoda would’ve fallen for her, too.
She had passion. She had beauty. She was intelligent. She was gifted, and a far more powerful being than he. The worst part was that he wanted to believe she could be saved. He wanted to believe he had that kind of influence. And more painful still, now that he knew he’d been wrong, he wanted to believe there was good enough left in her that maybe, one day, he would be able to come back for her.
He’d be lucky if the Order would even have him back. No, he hadn’t fallen off the slippery slope yet, but he’d come damn close. He’d seen the pit of existence, and he knew now what few Jedi would ever know: There are places in the Force no soul should ever see. He could now say that he’d seen two examples of exactly what the Dark Side can do. He’d loved one. She’d loved the other more than him.
Yoda would have him working in the Temple for years for this. After that, they would assign him as a member of a lesser Council on Dantooine, or somewhere. He’d never see action again, or get an apprentice. He would spend his years teaching others, at arms length, the lesson he learned, but never got to apply again.
He wanted to persist in loathing himself, but he couldn’t. He remembered her face just as she cut him down. In one moment, it had been cold and emotionless—controlled. The next, she fell with him. He knew that, while she’d failed to kill him, she’d succeeded in what Exar Kun designed. Justin knew that when she cut him down, it was her that died. The pain of what she had done, along with her already blackened heart, destroyed all that was good inside her. One moment of mourning her lost soul, then a lifetime of murder, decadence, and power-mongering would follow.
And he knew he’d never see her again. The Council would see to that. He was glad, too. If he ever saw her again, he’d give in. Maybe he’d join her, maybe he’d kill her. Though, he was sure he’d have no choice but to kill her. She made her misgivings about their romance all too apparent. Some high-strung philosophies about “dooming their offspring to follow a dark path.” Bullshit, as far as he was concerned.
He barely had time to finish the thought. As soon as he thought about children, something struck him in the Force. There was a child. Not yet, of course, but she would notice soon enough that her cycle was late. Then, she’d know too. While he was falling through the abysmal darkness of broken-hearted unconsciousness, he’d seen it. It had only been in flashes, but he had seen it. Not just one child, but two; twins. There would be a boy and a girl. He even knew their names: Seth and Sarah.
Recalling the vision, he realized he hadn’t been swimming in a void of emptiness at all. It had been one big flash of two lives he created, but would never be a part of. They were doomed. He saw them, not clothed, but enveloped. Their bodies were covered by the blackness that flowed from their mother, a woman whose face was vaguely familiar, but wholly unknown to Justin. It was the face of the woman he’d once called Jenna.
Now, in this shifting world of aqua hues and distorted monitors, a name was whispered to him: Darth…Darth…Darth…Darth Panthes. The mother of his children would be a Dark Lady of the Sith. The only father they’d ever know, a Dark Lord. They, dark heirs to a throne destined to crumble.
This time, his sleep was too deep for visions and dreams. When he awoke, he had decided, he would awake a Jedi no more. This was too much.
Edited by Justin, 25 December 2010 - 12:56 AM.