Epilogue

Who do I save?

The one in my arms, or the one at arm's reach?

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

The look of hatred disturbing, and to this day when I think of him they will be forever flashed in front of my own.

There was a moment though. A split second when the blue penetrated through the layers of plastoid that my old general and friend briefly returned.

I knew Kix was dead; his last act one of immeasurable bravery.

Anakin, or whatever he now was, had managed to miss Piia entirely, the shaft penetrating my abdomen just under my right rib cage.

I lost my breath momentarily and was grateful of the tip shattering the enormous window behind us.

Then we fell, and in all honesty I welcomed death.

With no helmet on I knew I would be gone the instant I hit the surface below.

I heard it again, the haunting hum, once revered on the battlefield it now brought bile to my throat.

Had he followed us to finish the job?

I remember feeling weightless, briefly before we came to rest safely on the ground.

In a pain induced haze I dared open an eye to a familiar green hue floating above me before I it shut it in all knowing.

Ahsoka.

.

That was the night I died.

Mentally, spiritually, but not physically.

I never cried.

A soulless person simply cannot shed tears.

It astounds me even now that a broken heart can still beat.

The noise, light, heat and pain; all over in an instant but with a life time of ramifications.

I saw his strong reliable arms encircling her tiny body.

Those same arms had lifted me up when I was wounded on that little moon.

Those same arms had held me into him when we made love.

They now held another to his armour, safe and reliable as always.

I briefly saw his eyes close as his head made contact with the transparent sheet as it shattered into a million pieces, their bodies disappearing with them to their death below.

I on the other hand wasn't that lucky.

I survived.

.

I watched in horror as my family was murdered, all the time wondering why.

Just why?

Gathering my helmet I stumbled out of the air conditioning duct and around an ancient pillar and raised my blaster in retaliation.

With blood seeping from my nose I could barely breathe, but I recall saying something like, "you shab'uir!' as I haphazardly went to aim.

That's when I realised I was in trouble.

A grip so tight around my throat I clawed at my own skin, attempting to peel it away in desperation to get air.

I must have looked like a puppet, legs dangling above the ground as I was unceremoniously thrown across the room.

Something cracked, I know now it was a combination of my hyoid bone and larynx.

I will never talk again.

Just as well really, after what I saw, there are simply no more words left.

.

A/N: There really isn't any more words left.

For now.

I will be having a break, but there is already a sequel well under way starting next year.

To the readers who read, the fans who so eloquently reviewed, to the mentors who suggested and the beta who corrected - Thank you.

To my son - this is all to prove to you that Mummy isn't such a stick in the mud after all and when you are old enough to read this, you'll understand - I love you.

Ms CT-782

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