to Yoda's Datapad Fan Fiction
Smoke and ash from the recent battle still lingered in the dry and hot air. All was silent in the desolate streets as the sun beat down on every inch of the ruined city. It was broken only by the occasional sob of a woman crouched beside the ruins of a recently destroyed building. The small town had been demolished in a Separatist attack not a day before. With seemingly no reason, they had come and within a couple of hours they were gone, leaving only rubble in their wake.
The woman was one of the few survivors. She was alone. All alone.
I stopped in my tracks, keeping my distance so as not to disturb her mourning. Sweat ran down my face and dripped off, soaking my tunic and making it stick to my skin uncomfortably. I watched her in silence.
Seeing the lone woman brought back a cascade of memories of that terrible day that was only months ago. Of the battle that had started this whole detestable war. Of the giant arena where so many had fought and fallen. Of the sea of corpses that lay everywhere you looked. I felt I was back there again, standing and staring, with grief and dismay no words in any language could do justice. So much destruction, so many lives ripped away. It had been hard to imagine, but even harder to ignore as I should amongst the fallen. I felt alone. So alone.
I forced myself back to the present. The woman seemed suddenly to notice my presence. She turned and glared at me. Her hatred, her frustration, her uncontrollable grief emanated through the Force in heart-wrenching waves, and were reflected in her dampened eyes. A trickle of blood ran down her face from one of the countless lacerations that covered her body.
“Is it not enough that I have suffered and lost everything? Must I endure the insufferable gaze of one who helped cause this?” she said, softly at first, as though she was talking more to herself than to me. Then she stood hastily, fists clenched, “How can you just stand there in the middle of this!? You mindless, callous freak!” The shouted words echoed through the empty rubble-littered streets, making it seem like so many more victims, hidden in the debris, were also shouting at me, accusing me. She sank to the ground again in wild sobs, overwhelmed by her loss. I wanted to help her, to console her, but knew she was better left alone.
As if seized by a sudden violent impulse, she clutched a stone from the pile of material that was once a proud building and hurled it with all her might at me. It was easy enough to dodge, as she did not have much energy left from her anguish with which to launch a more powerful shot. “Leave me!” she shouted to the tear-spattered ground.
I nodded, accepting her request, and slowly turned away to continue my survey of the town’s damage. Walking away, I could still hear her endless crying. I could still feel her loss causing painful waves in the Force. Her few, but powerful words rang in my mind. She, like too many others, believed the Jedi to be nothing but slaves of the Republic, possessing no real emotions. They believed that we, like the clone troopers, were unaffected by war and the grief it caused. They believed that we could not empathize with innocent victims. But they didn’t understand that we did share their grief, and that we weren’t really that different at all. She had her losses, as did I. She had her sorrows, as did I. I could feel her emotions swirling distractedly in the vast sea of the Force. Yet she knew nothing of my own. Rather funny, I thought, that she should think me insensitive. I suppose we really were completely different, worlds apart, separated by a barrier of ignorance. We were together in this once-thriving town, yet both of us alone. All alone.