There was little light within the stone cell except that which filtered it's way through the gratings of the four iron bars at the top of the roof. All was cold and still and death-like, the only sins of life being the squeaking sound of the vrelts that scurried and lurked amongst the darkest shadows. Sometimes they would fight over little scraps of food that were thrown into the cell by the jailers, trying to snatch away the rotting vegetation and hardened bread before the person they were intended for could get to them. He was a man in his early thirties but who looked these past months as if he were almost double his years. He stooped against the wall where his chains held him loosely, matted brown hair crusted with dried blood. Only his blue eyes seemed to hold any sign of life. His clothing was torn and useless against the chill dampness of his temporary living quarters. I will be free soon enough, he thought silently. The only true freedom there is. But even then will I know rest? Gods, I deserve peace. Let me have that peace when my time arrives. Nobody can take that from me. He rested his head against the wall, briefly happy to think upon his own demise but all too soon swallowed up in the familiar terror of uncertainty. How long had he been in here now? Two-month, possibly even more (at least he thought so) but after a while you lost track of the days and the nights. How could you tell? The sound of groaning and piteous whimpering from the other prisoners in similar cells had long since ceased and he was sure that by now they had all found their own freedom at long last. Why hadn't he been allowed to join them? Why? Because it is all my fault, he let his eyes fall upon the straw on the ground. My idea. They followed me and now they have paid with their lives. But I am kept alive to suffer, knowing that I have escaped my fate only for a short time, to let my guilt for their suffering play over again and again in my head… The war. He should never have got himself mixed up in the war on Corellia but greed had been his motivation and the lure of money far too strong. His friends had warned him against it but he hadn't listened. Even his mercenary contacts had told him to steer clear. Corellia was not a place you wanted to be right now; even the Corellians themselves were starting to flee for safety… "Fighting for the King." He slumped his shoulders in disgust, addressing the air. "What a bloody shambles that turned out." There was no king, and hadn't been for some time now. Democracy had been in place on the planet for centuries and seeking to put a ruler back on the throne had been sheer folly. He personally couldn't care one way or the other what went on. Did it matter at the end of the day? As long as he had his credits he didn't give a damn about internal Corellian policies. The pretender claiming the 'throne' was a man by the name of Suul, but he'd stuffed everything up badly and now there was hardly a living supporter of his left. Suul himself had been strung up shortly before his own capture. Well, he felt little in the way of pity. It was difficult to feel charitable when your own head was next on the proverbial block. Over in a few hours, he thought miserably. I never could stand waiting. No patience to my credit. How easy it is to be wise after the event! So many things I would change if only I had my time again… The door in the wall opened - not very much - but enough for a burly arm to push something into the cell. At first he thought it was a bundle of rags, it was so difficult to see in the dark, but then the object fell to the floor and a pair of hands reached out to lesson the impact. "No escape for you. Tomorrow will come too soon. Enjoy it while you can." The guard's voice was suddenly cut off as the door closed swiftly behind him. The bundle of rags straightened up slowly and pulled itself onto bruised knees, rubbing at them carefully and repeatedly to ease the pain away. The face (from what he could see) was that of a woman maybe a few years older than himself, with an oval face and dark eyes that mirrored his own suffering. No doubt the interrogators had treated her as contemptuously as they had himself, possibly worse, but then again they didn't care if you had information to give or not. They just liked to see pain and misery. The woman stared round the cell, taking in the high vaulted ceiling and the stone walls made from thick, impenetrable slabs then back to the man. "If you're looking for a way out there is none." He said gruffly, using a voice he'd rarely exercised in the months he'd been in his present predicament. "There's only one escape from here." "I know this." She nodded slowly. "I do not fear it." His ice blue eyes turned to fire as he regarded her inhuman composure, annoyed that she should show so little care. How could anyone say they did not fear death? Even to those who thought little about it, death was the end. Nothing more than eternal blackness and the stillness and peace he so craved yet was too scared to face. "I do not believe you." He said finally. "Destiny has led me to this path." She replied sadly. "Although I never thought to end up this way the force had decided it shall be so. This will be my end." Her fingers went instinctively to the empty clip on her belt, where once her lightsabre had hung in days gone by. She never thought she could miss a simple object as much as this when they had taken the weapon from her. It felt as if she had lost a limb, as if an integral part of herself was gone. They had kept it as a trophy. "There is no death, there is the force." She said. The man regarded her for a moment, wondering what to make of his new cellmate. The sands of time were slipping through the glass, ebbing away and taking his last hope with it. "What are you?" he asked her, squinting into the gloom. "I am a jedi," she answered after a long pause, "or at least I was. My pride has taken me here, and my own reckless actions. Nobody will come for me now. All to late I have learned this." "I am scared." The man confessed. "I fear the end. I've prayed to the gods to let this day come and now it is here I would wish it away." "I am under sentence too." She smiled sadly. "But I die tomorrow! For my own stupidity…I have caused the death of so many innocent people and now I must pay with my blood but I haven't the courage!" "Did you mean to cause their deaths?" the woman asked him, pulling her hood around her neck for warmth. "No...but they still died. They still suffered." "Then their own paths led them here, too. Grieve not for them. They are at peace." She sighed. The man felt suddenly filled with shame at his inability to face his own fear with the same dignified calm that the woman had. Perhaps these jedi really were the emotionless creatures that people made them out to be. Even so, he felt a tidal wave of embarrassment at his cowardliness. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice wavering with pent-up feelings he had dared not show these last few months. "Their own paths?" "Their destinies. They branch out like tree roots. Sometimes stretching on and on without opposition until they simply stop, or twisting and overlapping one another. That is the nature of life. Our paths cross like the tree roots. Nothing happens without reason, it is the will of the force. It is simply that our time here is done and the force will call us back once more to where we began." "Then you think that our meeting was not by chance?" he asked, wiping the tears from his grime-streaked face. "Oh, yes. We've met for a reason, even at this late hour. We may not know why but be assured that there is some purpose behind it." "I die tomorrow." He wept. "I wish it were not so. There is so much I could have done with my life had I chosen to do things differently. I had a family…I threw it all away. Now I have brought them nothing but shame." "Their destinies are separate to yours." She replied, moving closer to him. "Life surprises you. Accept the gift." "I have no life left. Only death." "It is the beginning, not the end." She offered him a small smile. "My sentence is not death, but I surely will. I am to be flogged for my involvement in this rebellion. Four hundred lashes. This body will not survive this time, jedi or no." She reached into her pouch and produced a bar of wrapped chocolate, snapping it in half and offering it to the man. He stared at her in amazement. "They did not take it from me," she answered his unspoken question, "because there was no need. What does it matter if a condemned prisoner eats or not?" His eyes wavered from her pale face to the chocolate before his hands snatched the food away, cramming as much as he could in his mouth at one time. The woman eyed him with compassion. "Nobody deserves this." She closed her eyes. "I wish only that tomorrow was here already for us both." "What's your name?" he managed to say between mouthfuls of chocolate. The woman shrugged. "Angeline." She answered. "It's pretty," He nodded, intent on licking his fingers. "Maybe if this force of yours exists we can see more of each other in the next life." "Don't wish what you can't handle." She laughed creakily, coughing slightly as her lungs fought for air. "The force works in strange ways." She sat and watched him for a while, using her weakened force powers to keep the chittering vrelts at bay as they smelled the scent of the chocolate on them. This may not have been how she had envisaged her demise but she felt certain that in this new companionship she felt with for the stranger it might not be so bad as she had thought at first. They were not alone. Never will be, she thought, eyes arching in surprise. Where did that come from? "So, Angie." He said glibly, trying to appear as calm and as casual as he could be under the circumstances, "What do you think the purpose of this all is? Why does your 'force' insist that we suffer these torments?" "So that we learn," she twisted a strand of hair round her finger, "and whatever we don't learn this time the force will help us to understand the next." "And what have you to learn?" he asked, a slight sneer in his voice. "What can an all-powerful jedi have to understand?" "Oh, no doubt that will be revealed in the fullness of time." Angeline absently began to plat at her hair. "And you needn't think that a jedi is any different to anyone else. The ability to wave a lightsabre about does NOT make you intelligent. Believe me, I know this from painful experience. I have made many mistakes that I have acknowledged and I am sure there were a great many more that I couldn't remember. I wish I had learned to be more trusting. It has been a great failing on my part. And lack of remorse." "I have too much of both," he grinned, his lip aching from where they were cracked and bloodied, "you can have some if you want. With me it would be sharing my affection…I never really had the time for other people. I was selfish. Maybe I need to learn how to love." "It looks as if we had a lot to learn." She agreed, offering him a drink from her hip flask. "And no doubt we shall." He felt strangely comforted by her presence although he couldn't say why. No longer as scared as he had been. Not so afraid of the unknown. Her acts of kindness had caused the tears to fall from his eyes once again but this time he didn't even bother to hide it. "Looks like I will be going on ahead of you." She managed to chuckle. "Maybe I'll hang around though and wait for you." "You do that." He smiled back at her, taking the flask and offering it in salute. "Maybe the afterlife will be dull." "Oh, I'm sure it won't be with you around." She sparred verbally. "You look like a natural born troublemaker." "Thank you!" he put his lips to the bottle and tipped his head backwards. "I'm sure it will be a worthwhile experience." "No experience is wasted, not even the bad ones." She said distantly as if quoting some ancient jedi mantra. "I'll drink to that." He agreed. She tapped him on the arm. "Careful with that stuff. You'll go blind." "As if my day can get any worse." He grinned through his stubby beard handing the bottle back. Angeline took a long hard swallow of the liquor and settled back against the wall beside him. "Old souls, that's all we are." She muttered, not caring if he heard or not. "The force creates us then claims us back when it is time." Her eyes fell upon the nametag on the man's wrist. S. Nordal, she frowned. Means nothing to me. He stared up at the ceiling and up once more to the bars and beyond still…all those stars twinkling there like tiny gems in the night. He wondered if anybody would ever visit them all, but then dismissed it as nonsense. Yes, the advent of night was upon them both but somehow… It wasn't dark anymore. |
| The Will of the Force (Old Souls) by Jemmiah |
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