Rain

The sky flashed.

    Thunder snarled through the air as lightning threw jagged bolts down to Nar Shadaas' towering spires, which clawed upward, spiked and dark against the uniformly black sky. The wind sang wild music, speaking of the moon and the stars and the dark places of the night, as shadowed clouds billowed above. The storm that had been waiting on the horizon all day, like a kath hound poised to spring, had finally brought its icy, clutching claws down to Nar Shadaa. The wild sheets of rain that were promised had not yet struck the littered surface of the moon. The citizens and refugees that usually roamed had left the streets empty and deserted.

    Only one person could be seen, standing at the rails, gazing up at the storm-darkened sky with cold, unfeeling green eyes that showed no emotion, only a haunted emptiness that had forever lain untouched in her heart. It was times like these that the horrors of the war she endured crept back upon her, like dark, clinging tendrils of ivy, whispering in her ear, stalking at her shoulder. The many times she had laid awake at night, contemplating her actions as her hopes slipped away, drove an icy thorn into her broken soul, shattered so each tiny sliver that had fallen away was one she could never find again. Voices slid into her mind as pained memories threatened to overtake her.

    She remembered the millions upon millions of screams that rose up, higher and higher, until they grew into an enormous, burning wave that crashed down around her mind. She remembered the icy inferno of pain that clawed at her insides, spiking a cold shot of adrenaline to rock her body. She remembered the pain of having the Force torn away, like knives grating down her spine. She remembered guilt. . . the terrible guilt that came with every movement, every shift of her body as she fled from the dark places of her mind. But with the guilt came emptiness, and the absence of emotion was worse than anything else.

    She wished that her heart could register the vivid colors of the life she once knew, the life that began so many years ago, as a hopeful Padawan, under the instruction of what she thought were the greatest Masters. But not anymore. The Jedi had betrayed her. . .by not coming to assist in the war efforts, by sitting alone, in hiding, shying away from the harsh reality of life. Scars lingered upon the hearts of the wars' victims, sorrow darkened the lives of everyone that had lost family, whose dreams had been shattered. And everyone knew the Jedi were to blame. . .if they had acted, instead of relying on the vaunted 'Code' which they claimed to follow, many, many more people would have survived. The massacre of millions was one thing the Council couldn't slither it's way out of, like they had so many times before. Even for a former student of the Jedi, she had no trouble sympathizing with society's way of thinking. They had come to shun the Jedi, hating them and all they stood for because they abandoned the Republic in the war.

    The woman let out a sigh, her green eyes set on the sky, where the storm was still raging relentlessly. She thought about going in, maybe to a cantina to have a drink, but she was in no mood for the rowdy excitement of the bar while she struggled to fight her internal demons. She wished the rain would fall, to come wash away these fractured memories that were so hard to let go. She glanced downward to her hands, her eyes traveling up her forearm to follow a many-lined scar that clawed its way to her shoulder like lightning. She wondered who she would have been had she not followed Revan to war. She wondered if Revan regretted her actions, leading so many Jedi to their deaths. She wondered how she had managed to alter the course of her life based on just one choice.

    She asked herself honestly if she really regretted the decision she had made. She knew the 'right' answer in the eyes of the Council was yes, that she remorsed her actions and would do anything to go back and not betray the Code. But her answer was no. That choice made so long ago made her who she was now. She wasn't going to turn and run like every other Jedi. She would fight, she would do it all over again if she had to. The Jedi were afraid. She felt icy claws prick her back as she recalled saying those exact words in front of the Council at her trial. . . .

          ~~~

    "Do you know why we have called you here?" The voice of Master Vrook reached Daystar's ears as she stood before the Council, her green eyes cool and proud, her chin held high. The other members regarded her in stony silence, harsh and judgemental. Daystar felt a ripple of anger. What right did they have to judge, when they had cowered in their halls, afraid to protect innocents with their life?

    "I came because I chose to, not on your orders," she shot back smoothly.

    "Your words mask your pain, we can see that," Master Kavar now spoke. "But why are you trying to deny what you know is only true?"

Daystar turned her gaze to her former master, her eyes filled with contempt. "I have nothing to mask," she replied. "War has made me stronger, and I feel no regret in the choice I made."

    "Why did you make that choice? You turned your back on the Code, the Council, and yourself."

Daystar jerked her chin. "I?" she spat, her anger mounting. "I am the one who turned my back upon the Code? You are the ones that allowed millions to be slaughtered. You are the ones that would not help the Republic as you sat here, cowering in your pathetic halls. You are the ones who will feel the pain of the war the strongest, because everyone will remember the day the Jedi refused to help the Republic, when the Jedi left those innocents to die as Mandalorians bombed their planets into spacedust!" Daystar drew breath, then went on. "The Code says we are to show compassion, and to help those weaker than ourselves. Weren't they weaker than us? Didn't they need help to defend themselves?"

    Master Vash answered her. "We needed only time to evaluate--"

"Ha!" Daystar laughed derisively, cutting across Master Vash. "Time? Time can only take you so far, and when you run out, there's no going back. You spent the entire war 'evaluating' this threat, when you could see that the Mandalorians were destroying lives, shattering families. But I wasn't going to turn and run like every other Jedi. I would fight, and I would do it all over again if I had to. Whereas you ran, you hid from your responsibility like the cowards you are. You were not 'evaluating'."

She stopped for a moment. The Council's eyes were upon her, wide with shock.

"You were afraid."

          ~~~                                                                                                                  

    Daystar let out a long, measured breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It felt as though she was watching from outside her body, staring at a lone stranger  enclosed by the turmoil of the storm. Faintly, she could still make out the wind roaring at the edge of her hearing. She dragged herself back to the present, where she looked up. The clouds had a faint green tinge, a warning that she needed to find shelter fast. As she made her way quickly to the door of the nearest cantina, she gave the sky a last look, filled with anguish. She felt lost, alone. . .and she realized how much her life was like a storm. The emotions were like lightning, clawing at her insides. The guilt rolled and snarled like thunder. The emptiness billowed like clouds. . .when the rain had past, the cloud was gone, too. And just as these thoughts crossed her mind, just as she dashed in the cantina door, a blue shot of lightning clawed down from the sky, then the storm broke.

    And it rained.