Duty
J/J/K (No, I haven't lost my mind, folks. Just read it.)
He's going back to Chiss space.
The war is over. It's been over a while now, and he's decided that it's time to go home. He wants you to go with him. And of course, having been with him for years, you should.
Not only that, but it will solidify the alliance between the Republic and the Empire. A Jedi and the son of an important Imperial. It will be good for the galaxy.
So when he asks you, you smile and say yes. He is leaving in a month, he tells you, and says that it should give you plenty of time to say goodbye. You agree, and smile some more.
A month. Here, in your room, with your family close by, you know that hasn't been long enough. This is your life. Surely you can't be expected to leave that behind...
You sigh and sink onto your bed, so very tired. The war is over, you remind yourself. But your own personal war is still raging. To go, to stay, and a million other things you won't even acknowledge the existence of.
Your things go into a small box; you've never lost the pilot's habit of only a few things and are packed in moments. Moments that fly by as fluidly as the past four weeks, you muse, and suddenly you wish that the war wasn't over, that you had a reason to feel like this.
But the war's been over nearly a year, and you have no excuse. You can't say you have to finish your training; your uncle knighted you before the end of the war. You aren't even a pilot anymore.
Can you do this? Can you really leave everything forever? You tell yourself you can, but as you consider the last object you put into the box--your lightsaber--you know differently.
You don't want to go to the Unknown Regions, don't want to be an Imperial, don't want to settle down. And, as the first tear falls from your eye, you know you don't want him, you've never wanted him, and just how thoroughly you've destroyed your own life.
It only takes a few moments before you're curled into a ball, sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your shields are so high, so solid, though, that even your old master, in the room beside yours, can't feel your pain.
Slowly, so achingly slowly, you manage to stand and wipe away your tears. You reach for the door, wanting to prolong this moment before you tell everyone a final goodbye.
Because even though you don't want to leave tomorrow, you will.
J/J/K (No, I haven't lost my mind, folks. Just read it.)
He's going back to Chiss space.
The war is over. It's been over a while now, and he's decided that it's time to go home. He wants you to go with him. And of course, having been with him for years, you should.
Not only that, but it will solidify the alliance between the Republic and the Empire. A Jedi and the son of an important Imperial. It will be good for the galaxy.
So when he asks you, you smile and say yes. He is leaving in a month, he tells you, and says that it should give you plenty of time to say goodbye. You agree, and smile some more.
A month. Here, in your room, with your family close by, you know that hasn't been long enough. This is your life. Surely you can't be expected to leave that behind...
You sigh and sink onto your bed, so very tired. The war is over, you remind yourself. But your own personal war is still raging. To go, to stay, and a million other things you won't even acknowledge the existence of.
Your things go into a small box; you've never lost the pilot's habit of only a few things and are packed in moments. Moments that fly by as fluidly as the past four weeks, you muse, and suddenly you wish that the war wasn't over, that you had a reason to feel like this.
But the war's been over nearly a year, and you have no excuse. You can't say you have to finish your training; your uncle knighted you before the end of the war. You aren't even a pilot anymore.
Can you do this? Can you really leave everything forever? You tell yourself you can, but as you consider the last object you put into the box--your lightsaber--you know differently.
You don't want to go to the Unknown Regions, don't want to be an Imperial, don't want to settle down. And, as the first tear falls from your eye, you know you don't want him, you've never wanted him, and just how thoroughly you've destroyed your own life.
It only takes a few moments before you're curled into a ball, sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your shields are so high, so solid, though, that even your old master, in the room beside yours, can't feel your pain.
Slowly, so achingly slowly, you manage to stand and wipe away your tears. You reach for the door, wanting to prolong this moment before you tell everyone a final goodbye.
Because even though you don't want to leave tomorrow, you will.
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