The lightsaber made soft and graceful arcs as it moved through the air. Not moved, but rather floated. It was as if the air itself was giving way in front of it and slightly nudging it from behind as it passed. It changed direction but even this did not seem unnatural, as if to any who were watching there could be no other way it could have gone. It struck another saber, and sparks flew, seemingly in slow motion. And at once, it was gone.

The apprentice stared in shock and disbelief, wondering how the lightsaber could have possibly gone around his own and reappeared, inches from his throat. After a few seconds, he slowly began to regain his composure, and left his bewildered state. Stepping back and deactivating his lightsaber, he bowed low. His opponent deactivated his own and returned the bow. The apprentice moved off to rejoin the others in training, leaving the man alone. Or so it seemed.

"Still getting kicks out of old saber tricks at the expense of others I see," came a voice from behind him.

That voice... the man whispered, it his thoughts were broadcasted out a short range, That presence...could it...no. Who is there?

"It has been a long time, oh great Master Faceless One," the voice came again, and Zark Ekan revealed his presence fully, "Thats what they're calling you now, is it not?"

Impossible! the man named Faceless One thought-spoke, You've been dead for at least a year, and a Rogue long before then!

"What can I say?" Zark stepped from the shadows he seemed to have managed to find and into the light of the courtyard, "Its not very easy to kill a Jedi Knight, especially one of my skill."

The two stared blankly at each other (or rather Zark did) for good while before neither could take it any longer and they both burst into laugher. 'Master Fameless One's laughter which had a habit of bringing silence to a room seemingly held no effect on Zark whatsoever, and neither of them stopped until they were good and ready, which took quite a while.

Zark, you lunatic! How long has it been?!

"Quite some time, Aenix," Zark frowned slightly, "Quite some time..."

Shhh! Its Faceless One! You know that! Aenix said, Come on, you're gonna damage my reputation!

"Oh I'll do more than that!" Zark retorted, and Aenix could hear the snap-hiss! of a lightsaber activating, "Little magic tricks may work on the Padawans and even the Knights, but it'll take a lot more than that to take down old Zark."

Zark charged, and yet it was not a blind dash into the unknown. His senses were alert, keen, and ready for some action. Aenix met the charge full on, his yellow blade coming up to meet Zark's blue. Their sabers clashed but only for a second before each pushed off. Zark moved past Aenix to the right and Aenix moved past Zark to the left, simultaneously spinning. Two sabers met down low, each one-handed.

It was Aenix's turn to go on the offensive, and he came at Zark with a ridiculous looking hop-skip that, nonetheless, helped to move his opponent back even farther. Sabers clashed, up high and down low, each time one batting the other out wide.

"Master Faceless One has been challenged! The Faceless One has been challenged!"

Both of the combatants heard this, but neither showed it. They were both too consumed in their little battle, their little war that they had no time for emotion. No time for recognition. No time for anything except for survival. The beauty that the apprentices often saw in the Faceless One's seemingly unbeatable technique was mirrored in this battle, their art of the sword seemingly identical.

Aha! The Padawans viewed. The Faceless One had won. He had this strange challenger cornered with a manuever that he had used to defeat many of those who had been brave enough to spar with him. None had yet devised a technique to escape from it, for at the angle he deflected his opponent's lightsaber, no Jedi alive could have the flexibility to deflect his next move. Even the Masters had sometimes been defeated by it, for they focused on preventing Aenix from using it rather than finding a way to counter it.

There came the move and Zark deflected, one-handed, the first shot. He arched his back in the process, his saber arm up and over behind his back in a very uncomfortable-looking deflection. Cockiness, the apprentices thought. He obviously had no idea what was about to hit him. But Zark knew full well what Aenix was intending, and he had no intention of losing this fight.

Aenix came down at what normally would have been Zark's bottom left side, the opposite of his previous high strike, so quickly that he could not possibly hope to swing around his saber fast enough, especially in his position. If Aenix did not stop, as he always did, his legs would be severed from the rest of his body.

So Zark did not attempt to swing around his saber fast enough. His right hand let go of the saber, and it fell into the awaiting left hand. In a dazzling spinning move, Zark's lightsaber created a slightly crooked cross as it connected with Aenix's. In his position, he could not hold off the saber for long or risk behind sliced by his own saber, but he did not need to.

Bending his legs slightly, Zark flipped over the saber, bringing his own saber above Aenix's to prevent the Jedi from bringing it up in an attempt to strike at him in midair. Zark corkskrewed and came down in a crouch, his lightsaber pinning down Aenix's.

Before any of the apprentices had time to register what had just happened, Zark's left leg swept out in an attempt to trip up Aenix. Aenix was forced into a backflip to avoid the attack, but Zark's saber still pinned his own. Aenix let go of his saber momentarily, completing the backflip and using the Force to recall his weapon to him.

The quickly growing crowd gaped at the startling preformance they found before them, but the two opponents did not relent. Again they came in at each other, and this time their sabers locked together in a clash. Zark grinned.

You've improved much since we last fought, Aenix said, It only took you five minutes to come up with a solution to that old attack. I'm impressed.

"As am I, you rusty old bat," Zark replied, grinning, "The years have not dulled your technique or your reflexes, but there are some things the Jedi archives cannot teach you."

Suddenly, Zark fell backward, letting go of his saber with one hand and using it to brace himself against the ground below. Aenix leaned over to continue the pressure, attempting to trap his opponent, but he had forgotten about Zark's legs. Two feet shot out lightning fast, nailing Aenix in the knee caps and sending him flying forward. Zark pushed off to the side with his bracing hand and grinned at the mental oof! Aenix made as he crashed to the ground.

The two were up in an instant, and Aenix came at him. Zark's enemy's lightsaber came up and then swung around in a horizontal motion toward Zark's neck. Most definitely a feint, given the obviousness of the move, but Zark didn't plan on it lasting that far. His right foot shot out and met where Aenix's elbow bent, pushing it back far enough to put Zark into a split-like stance, only diagonally.

Before Aenix could pull his arm away, a blue blade hovered inches from his throat. There was a collective gasp from the audience and complete silence for what seemed like hours. The Faceless One? Defeated? By someone none of them had ever seen before?

Aenix stepped away, deactivated his saber, and bowed. Zark did likewise, and the two embraced each other in a short hug.

You've still got it, Aenix said, nodding his head furiously in what served as a smile for him.

"So do you, and thats the problem," Zark replied, grinning.

Oh? Aenix said, his 'smile' haulting abruptly, Then enlighten me, oh wise one.

"Aen-sorry, Faceless One," Zark began, "You've memorized every combat technique and manuever available in the entire Jedi archives, and you put them all to good use in an amazing style, but you've never come up with something of your own. Knowledge, wisdom, these are traits of the Jedi. But innovation is a trait of a good warrior."

Zark...you've grown up, Aenix replied, giving a small chuckle.

"Unfortunately, I have."

The walk throughout the Academy grounds was a silent one. Well, technically. Aenix spoke in great length of the happenings since Zark had left. Aenix ignored the fact that the last time he had seen him was when Zark had ran off with Searthen Jiren to help found the Rogue Jedi Order, which, after an initial success, faded into oblivion, along with most of the members of the Order and Jiren himself. For this, Zark was very greatful. He did not want any lectures on the Rogue Jedi ideals, he had already come to terms with their flaws.

For now, Zark was fully content with listening to what Aenix had to say about the true Jedi Order. The pure Jedi Order. This was a topic in which Aenix had much to say, and their travels took them around nearly the entire Academy before he was even halfway finished. Apparently, much had been going on at the Jedi Order, even with its noninvolvement in recent galactic affairs. The Sith might be strong, but it was apparent to Zark as he gazed out at the courtyard that they had definitely not won. Not yet, anyway.

Zark... Zark was pulled from his thoughts by a hand waving in his face.

The Jedi blinked several times and turned toward Aenix, who was grinning. The weapons master had finally noticed that Zark had long since stopped paying attention to what he was saying, out of, Aenix likely assumed, boredom. But it was not. This was Zark's homecoming, and it had been much too long of a time to be away. Everything seemed new to him, new and wonderful as it had been when he first arrived a young and confused Padawan.

He had grown up since then, and he was desperately holding onto the last strands of his immaturity.

Zark, Aenix said, causing the other Jedi to look at him, The Jedi and Rogue Jedi Orders share many things, among them active Jedi rosters, in order to keep track of all the Jedi in the galaxy. Zark, you've been MIA for a very long while now. Where did-

There was a very loud explosion up ahead, and Zark, startled out of their conversation, began to take off in its direction. He stopped and turned when he realized that Aenix wasn't following him. He had not even changed his pace. In fact, he was smiling. Then Zark looked around and noticed for the first time where exactly they were. No, it couldn't be...

"Hes still at it?" Zark asked, amazed.

Indeed, Aenix replied, You'd think he'd have grown out of it by now, wouldn't you?

Just then, as if on cue, a Jedi skidded out of the room from which the blast had originated, coughing and sputtering. As he looked up, Zark could plainly see the black covering his entire face. Yes, it was him alright.

"Hello again, Nathaniel," Zark greeted, once again calmly, "It has been some time since I have had the pleasure of seeing such a magnificent explosion. But tell me, if you seem to have the art to it down, why do you still persist,"

"Eh? Whos there?" Nathaniel replied, much louder than was called for.

Nathaniel has lost most of the hearing in his left ear, Aenix chimed in, A 'very promising project gone horribly awry', or so he claims.

"Aenix?" Nathaniel asked, still yelling, "Who's that you've got with...you..."

As Nathaniel wiped the soot from his face, his vision came into focus, and the man accompanying his long time friend was one that he had never expected to see again. Jedi Knight Zark Ekan, in all his former glory and much age on top of it. For a long while he just stood there, standing at him blankly. Finally...

"That last one must've had some side effects," he said loudly, directed at Aenix, "I think I'm hallucinating. Could've sworn that Zark Ekan was just standing right there."

Zark Ekan is standing right there, Nathaniel, Aenix replied.

"Oh..." Nathaniel mumbled, "I see..."

Silence.

"Zark, you lunatic!" Nathaniel literally screamed out, wrapping Zark into a very tight bearhug, "They said you had dissapeared! The Rogues, I mean. Where did you go?"

Thats just what we were about to find out, Aenix said.

Zark's very wide smile had been replaced by a grim frown. He started just past Nathaniel, seemingly concentrating on nothing. Nahaniel looked behind him, looked back, looked at Aenix, shrugged, and waved his hand in Zark's face. No reaction. It was as if he was not there. Nathaniel called his name, even shouted (extremely loudly) in his ear. Nothing. No response.

For Zark, they were no longer in one of the many hallways of the Jedi Academy. They were very, very far away from Theed, Naboo, the inner planets, the outer rim. They were nearby the Unknown Regions. They were on that damned little planet by the name of JED-1, in that little sleepy town, and inside that cathedral. They were at the altar, and there lay Darth Xoverus' smoking corpse. And inside Zark's hand was not nothing as it had been at the Academy, but a smoking revolver to match the corpse it had killed.

And all around them, there were figures. Not people, for Zark could not tell clearly if they were. They all wore hoods, and were cloaked in black, just as the Sith's servants, now dead, had been far below in the catacombs. A dull roar of mumbles reached Zark's ears, and it seemed to him that they were praying, although he could not make out the words. Just a collective mumble, nothing that made sense. And in the center, the altar. But it was not the corpse of Darth Xoverus laying there. Zark did not know who this new man was, but he had the same bullet holes in him as Xoverus had had, and Zark was still holding the revolver.

And then everything faded to black.

The past...

It was nearing dawn in Darj Ekdi City, and the sun that dawned would be a red one. Corpses littered the streets, the silence broken only by the few moans of those who had managed to escape with their lives. Only a few windows lay unshattered by stray gunfire, and small holes littered the walls of buildings. The corpses seemed to make a line, from the edge of the woods, through the town, and up to the cathedral that lay perched upon the hill overlooking Darj Ekdi.

Most of those fallen carried weapons. Pistols, revolvers, blades, anything they could get their hands on. They had all arisen on seemingly the same moment to seek out and destroy the Jedi Zark Ekan, commanded by the will of Darth Xoverus, the once Jedi, turned Sith. But there were also many corpses of women and children, caught in the crossfire and mowed down in the streets. The blood of the guilty were mingled with the blood of the less-guilty.

One house in particular lay particularly damaged. It had suffered a grenade explosion, thrown by the Jedi himself. Bullet holes littered the entire wall, some from rifle fire, but many very large holes that could only have come from a shotgun or a revolver. In this case, it was the latter. The door had been blown off its hinges by one of the revolver shots, or at least most of it had. A jagged piece of wood at the bottom remained, hanging from half a hinge.

Some of the controlled townsmen had set up a machine gun nest in the second floor, and it had been the only way for Zark to prevent them from mowing him down. In the process, he had killed three people, their will controlled by a Sith but their minds innocent as any human's ever could be.

Did the ends justify the means? This was a question unanswerable, but karma was unforgiving, and it always had a habit of finding a way out of an impossibiility.

Earlier that night...

"So, you think there is a fucking happy ending for you?" Zark asked, "YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH WHAT YOU'VE FUCKING DONE?!"

BLAM!

Xoverus stared down at the gaping hole in his chest in shock. It took him what seemed like an eternity to recover, but when he did he immediately began to mumble under his breath. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, but still he went on, struggling to remember the right words.

"That was for my mother!"

BLAM!

Another bullet blew through the Sith, but still he kept muttering, struggling to keep from crying out in pain and ruining everything. He didn't have much time. Xoverus looked for another way out, any other way out, but he could find none. The only way out was death, and, knowing this, he forced himself to continue with his mumblings.

"That was for my father!"

BLAM!

A third shit hit him, and the Sith fell backwards onto the altar. For a moment he paused. It lasted not even a second, but it was there. He immediately continued mumbling, and prayed to whoever happened to be listening that it didn't prove to be his downfall. The hammer on Zark's revolver cocked again, and Xoverus knew this would be the last shot. He was almost there!

"That was for me!"

Xoverus looked up slightly to see Zark almost standing over his fallen body, and his barely open eyes stared up at him with terror. He was almost dead, but still he mumbled. So close, so close, he just needed a few more seconds. The revolver hovered over his head.

"AND THIS IS FOR ROLAND YOU SON OF A BITCH!!"

Done!

BLAM!

The last shot hit him, and as Xoverus' body finally died, his spirit leapt out from through his mouth, unseen by Zark or by anything on the normal plane of existance. Xoverus' body was dead, but his spirit was not, and he had precious little time to find someone to take over before his final spell turned out to be for nothing.

The past...

Xoverus had still not found a suitable candidate who was both alive and had a high enough midichlorian count to sustain his power to its full potential. His time was quickly running out, and soon it...nothing would matter to him anymore. He was dying, even after death, and he had only a very short time to save himself.

Finally, the Sith floated through the mostly-destroyed door and into the grenade-assaulted house. He had avoided this one earlier as he really didn't expect to find anyone alive. The roof was in danger of caving in from the grenade explosion, oh, and there had been a grenade explosion. As Xoverus floated up the stairs, he realized that he had been wrong. Very wrong.

There was a presence, strong yet faint. The man was almost dead, but his midichlorian count was unnaturally high. He had likely not known about it, if he had he would've probably been commited, or at least in a much better house than this one, but it was still there. Xoverus' time was nearing its end. He didn't have time to check the rest of the town. Having no other choice, his spirit 'leaped' into the dying man's body.

Xoverus sighed with relief as he realized he could feel his hands again. No, not his hands, he remembered, or at least they didn't used to be. They were now, though. The wounds the man had suffered closed up, and strength flowed back into his body. The doubling of spirits tended to jumpstart one's body, especially when on the brink of death.

As the original occupant's conciousness began to return, Xoverus' went through his memories. Most of it was thoroughly boring, but the part just before he had been nearly killed was interesting. It detailed what he had done while under the influence of Xoverus himself. Very interesting indeed.

Earlier that night...

"Marcus? Marcus, honey?" Katherine asked, "Whats going on? I heard gunfire. Who are these people?"

Marcus replied by roughly shoving his wife out of the way. Him and the two other men ran quickly up the stairs. The sound of gunfire grew louder. They did not have much time to get into position. The door to Marcus' son's room burst open as the men entered, startling the boy from his sleep. He began to ask questions, but one of the men merely picked him up and, with unnatural strength, flung him into the hallway where he collided with his mother, sending them both to the ground.

Marcus kicked the window open as the other two set up the machine gun. They began feeding ammunition into it as Marcus cocked the hammer, lining up on where he predicted the Jedi Zark Ekan would show up. That was who they were waiting for. That was why they had set up the machine gun. That was who they had to kill. They had to kill the Jedi Zark Ekan. Their master commanded it.

Zark Ekan rounded the corner then, revolvers lighting up the street, complimented by the scattered rifle fire that flew at him. Marcus opened up with the machine gun, forcing Zark to take cover. He pummeled the Jedi's position with round after round. Every once in a while Zark fired back, but none of them noticed. Marcus only shifted his aim in an attempt to hit him.

One of Zark's shots was lucky, and one of the two reloading went down, but Marcus and the other did not notice. It did not matter. They had to kill the Jedi Zark Ekan. Their master commanded it. The closed door to the room burst open, and Marcus' wife burst in, enraged. She began screaming at her husband and the man who accompanied him, stopping immediately to gape in horror at the corpse in the room.

"What have you done?" she asked quietly, "What have you done? What have you done?!"

The machine gun fire stopped, and the machine gun itself was lifted up. Marcus turned, aimed, and opened fire. His wife was literally blown backward out the door and into the wall, bullets riddling her body. The son attempted to run away, but in his fear he ended up crossing the doorway while Marcus was still firing. His own body was lifted up and carried into his mother's, pinning them both.

The machine gun fire stopped, the corpses fell to the ground, and Marcus set up again, searching for Zark. The Jedi had crossed the street, and Marcus lined up a shot. Something hit the ceiling above him and bounced behind. Marcus turned, and a defeaning sound followed by a rush of flames hit him, and all went dark.

The past...

The last part in particular caught Xoverus' attention. Getting up, he walked over to the mirror in the room, but it had been shattered by the explosion. He picked up one of the shards...and was greeted by the horribly scarred face that was now his. For a long moment, he did not move. He did not make a sound.

Then, breaking the silence of Darj Ekdi with the first non-moaning sound of the day, he pulled back his head and laughed. He laughed at the ceiling, he laughed at the corpses, he laughed at the city, he laughed at the planet, he laughed at everything. Most of all, he laughed at how he was going to kill the one that had killed him. The Jedi Zark Ekan. One way or another, Marcus would fulfill his original purpose.

And so Darth Xoverus began his new life. His half-life.

The wind blew very harshly, but Zark could not feel it. In fact, he could not really feel anything. Looking around, he discovered that he was, somehow, outside, and in the middle of nowhere. Around him for miles and miles, there were only hills. Hills and grass and more hills. Where was he? This place was wholly unfamiliar to him. The sky was very blue, without a hint of clouds anywhere in the sky, and the wind blew on and on, although he could not feel it.

So he walked. Zark walked and walked. The grass crumpled and swayed beneath his feet, but he could not feel that either. He reached out to touch one of the hills. Nothing. On and on he walked, going somewhere but getting nowhere. Everything seemed the same, as far as he could see. Only the size of the hills varied, and they were the only thing that assured him he was moving at all.

"Over here!"

Zark heard it, and instantly his head snapped in its direction. Upon a hill in the distance, a shadowy figure stood atop one of the countless hills. The sun was shining very brightly, so this fact was odd. It was as if the shadow was coming from the figure itself.

"Over here!"

He heard it again. A woman's voice. He began to run. He ran and ran and ran. Over hills, under hills, hills hills hills. What seemed like five minutes away ended up taking hours. The figure always seemed to be just out of reach, and no matter how close Zark got the shadow never lessened. He could make out none of her features, if it truly was a she.

Finally, he made it...

...and the shadow was gone. There was no one.

"You made it," the voice said, very close. Zark whirled around, staring in the face of a moderately beautiful woman, "I'm glad. But you didn't have to run. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where am I?" Zark asked, thoroughly confused.

"You are in the medical ward of the Jedi Academy on Naboo," the woman replied, "Your friends brought you there after you passed out."

"Ah," Zark said, looking around, "They seem to have redecorated it since the last time I was here."

"No, silly," the woman replied, giggling, "That is not where this is. That is where you are. This is Nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Zark asked.

"Yes, Nowhere. That is what it is called."

"And where are you?" Zark asked.

"I am...I was," the woman replied, her face turning sad, "In the town of Darj Ekdi, on the planet you know as JED-1. My body still resides there."

"You are...you are dead then?" Zark asked, memories returning quickly.

"I am no longer among the living, yes," she confirmed.

"Did I...I mean, were you..."

"No, you did not kill me," she assured him, smiling softly, "I was...murdered...by one of the men who were supposed to kill you."

"One of the other townsmen," Zark said. He wanted to feel relieved, but he could not. She had still died because of him, "Someone you knew?"

"My husband."

"Oh...I..." Zark searched for the words.

"You need not apologize, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, smiling once more, "It was not your fault. It was the fault of Xoverus, and only him."

"But I was the one-"

"No one else may take the blame of Xoverus," the woman asserted, "It is his and his only."

"...why am I here?"

"You are here to be warned, Jedi Zark Ekan," the woman said, her face again serious.

"Warned? Warned of what?"

"He is coming for you, Jedi," she said, her voice grave, "He is coming for you and he will not stop. He cannot stop. It is his purpose. His goal. His dream. His vision. And it will be his reality if you do not prevent it."

"Who? Who is coming for me?" Zark asked.

"You know of whom I speak," she replied.

"I do not..." Zark trailed off, staring at her, "No."

"No?" she asked, "I assure you-"

"No," he cut her off, "I killed him. I made sure he was dead."

She chuckled, although there was nothing funny to chuckle about.

"He managed one last trick before he died, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, "You killed the body of Jeremiah Xoverus, but the spirit of Darth Xoverus endeared. He has found a new body. A new guise to hunt you with."

"No."

"Yes, Jedi Ekan."

"No!" Zark screamed, grabbing her, but she was gone.

"He will not stop until he finds you."

Zark wheeled around, and there she was.

"And when he finds you, he will destroy you and everyone you hold dear, unless..."

"Unless what?" Zark asked, "Unless what?"

"Unless you find him first," she said, "The body he controls is not nor will it ever be fully under his control. Just like your body was never under your Xoverus' control."

"I don't know what you're-"

"Now is not the time to hide your secrets, Jedi Zark Ekan," she said, "I know all about Roland and what happened after that night."

"I...what do I do?"

"The man Jeremiah Xoverus resides in is my husband, my murderer," she said, "His name is Marcus. My name is Katherine. His son is Gerald, who he also murdered. You must help him, Jedi Zark Ekan. He is the only one who can ever hope to defeat the new Darth Xoverus. Help him. Please."

"I...I will do what I can," Zark replied.

"That is all anyone can ever ask of you," Katherine said, "Do what you can."

The hills began to fade, and so did Katherine.

"Wait!" Zark yelled, "How will I know what he looks like?"

"When you find him, you will know," she replied, her voice a distant whisper, "Blue eyes."

"What?!" Zark screamed, "Blue eyes?! What does that mean?! Katherine?! KATHERINE!"

"Hes coming around," Zark heard the voice, but it was not Katherine's. It was so familiar, but he couldn't remember.

"Are you sure?" another voice. It was Aenix's, "He looks asleep."

"Y-y-you're sure hes not dead?" This one was Nathaniel's, "He...he looks dead."

"Hes not dead."

"I'm not dead," Zark mumbled, "I think. Am I?"

"No, you're not," Aenix assured him.

"Th-thats good," Nathaniel chimed in.

"Not really," Zark muttered.

"What did you say?" Aenix asked.

"Nothing...why can't I see?"

"Your eyesight should return in time."

"Ah."

And whoever had said that was right. Soon enough, he began to see shadows. Eventually those shadows turned into blurs. After that, shades of light. Then, unfocused figures. And finally, he was in the medical ward of the Jedi Academy on Naboo, as Katherine had said. There were three people crowded around him. Aenix, Nathaniel, and...Heather.

"Hello Heather."

"Hello Zark."

"Who is Katherine?" she asked.

"...I'm sorry?"

"Who is Katherine?" Heather asked again.

They were still in the medical ward. Aenix and Nathaniel had left by now. They had their duties to attend to as a part of the Jedi Order, but Heather was a healer, and her duties entailed staying in the medical ward. There were rarely ever any serious injuries in the Order these days. Only minor cuts and scrapes from saber training, and those only took but a few seconds to treat. Zark had been their first serious patient in some time.

"I..."

"Im sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no its fine." Zark said, "You just caught me off guard. How did you..."

"You spoke...in your sleep..." she confessed.

"And what did I say?" Zark asked, curiouis.

"I couldn't make out most of it," Heather replied, "Someone about Darj Ekdi, him, and Katherine."

"And out of those three, you asked me about Katherine first?" Zark asked.

"..."

He gave a chuckle.

"So..." she trailed off.

"So what?" Zark asked.

"So, who is she?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Zark asked.

"No, I'm not." she said, grinning.

"I...well..." Zark struggled, "Its complicated."

"Is she..." she trailed off again.

"Is she what?" Zark asked.

"Is she...you know..."

"Oh...oh. No." Zark said, smiling softly, "Actually we just met."

"When?" she asked.

"About an hour ago."

"...."

"What?" Zark asked.

"Zark, you were unconcious an hour ago." Heather said gently.

"I know."

"Zark-"

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Zark cut her off.

"What? No."

"Good, because I'm not," Zark said, "Not anymore, at least."

"As opposed to..."

"A few days ago," Zark said.

"Oh..." Heather said, "I...umm...so, who is she?"

"I don't know," Zark said, "She found me."

"Inside your mind?" Heather asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Apparently," Zark said, smiling, "People have been doing that a lot recently, especially when I was insane...which kind of worries me now, but this is different."

"How?"

"Are you familiar with multiple personality disorder?" Zark asked.

"I did a paper on it when I was still in school in Theed." Heather said, "Why?"

Zark merely stared at her.

"Oh..." Heather said, "But this was different?"

"Yes," Zark said, "She wasn't a part of me. We were two different people who were just there, talking to each other. That, and she was dead."

"Wait, what?" Heather asked, "She was dead?"

"Yes."

"Whe you spoke with her?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"What was wrong with me?" Zark asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"What was wrong with me?" Zark asked again, "Why did I pass out?"

"I...I'm not sure," she replied, thinking, "Your symptoms reminded me of stress-related exhaustion, but-"

"That'd explain a lot," Zark said.

"Why?" Heather asked.

"Because I had just spoken with Nathaniel for the first time in years," he said.

She laughed.

"You wanna get a drink?" Zark asked.

"A what?"

"A drink."

"I don't drink alcohol, Zark," she said.

"I do."

"No you don't."

"I didn't used to," Zark said.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Haven't you been listening? I went insane. Now come on."

Zark led her through the streets of Theed, half-running and half-walking. She pleaded with him to slow down, but he did not. He needed a drink, and he almost didn't bother to take in the sights on the way. Almost. It had been a very long time since he had been on Naboo, and the city of Theed was to him like he had seen it for the first time again.

They finally made it to a pub, and a respectable one from what Zark had heard when he had been a Jedi here long ago, not that he had been interested at the time. But alcohol had the habit of making people forget things, and Zark had a lot of things he wanted nothing else but to forget. And he didn't care if Heather or Nathaniel or Aenix or even Leia Solo watched him do it.

They entered and Zark quickly ordered a glass of Corellian Ale. He didn't really like it that much, but the menu didn't have any of his favorites, and he figured it didn't matter what he drank as long as he got drunk. He would worry about the possibility that Xoverus was alive later. Right now he just wanted to do his best to forget about it before later arrived.

"Zark?" Heather asked as they grabbed a table in the corner. He looked at her, "What happened to you?"

"We've been over this."

"Not that," Heather said, "Although I'll want a more detailed version of that story later, but what really happened to you?"

"I don't follow you." Zark said, shifting in his seat.

"I think you do," she replied, "You used to love being a Jedi. You'd go on forever about how you'd...how you'd protect me if any of the Sith came. You even left to join Gash Jiren because of it."

"People change, Heather."

"Bullshit," she whispered hoarsely, as if afraid anyone would hear her. And, knowing Heather, she probably was. She was not the type to swear, "You wouldn't change. I...I don't believe that. Guess what, Zark? The Sith did come. They bombed Theed. They blew up Otah Gunga! And you weren't there, like you promised you'd be! You better have a frelling better excuse than 'people change'!"

Most of the people in the pub were staring at them. A waitress brough Zark his Corellian Ale, and he managed to down half of it before Heather slapped it out of his hands, stood up, and stormed out of the pub, tears in her eyes.

Zark picked up the mostly unbroken glass and ordered another.

Night had long since fallen, and those members of the Order still awake stayed mostly in their rooms. The medical ward lay as deserted as always, the only difference from the day being the lack of light. The piercing silence that was usually a constant was broken by the quiet sound of a woman softly sobbing.

She sat, curled up in a ball, in the corner of the ward. The tears of anger and sadness went against many of the things that the Jedi Order stood for, but she could not stop them. She was not sure she even wanted to stop them. So they fell. They fell freely. They fell with completely disregard for the sacrilege they represented.

I hate him, she thought to herself, I've wanted to for so long, but I've been too afraid to. I'm not afraid anymore. There's nothing I can do about it. I hate him. Hes either crazy or a really bad liar, and I hate him no matter which one it is.

There is no emotion.

Those words sounded very hollow to her now, and she cursed herself for thinking it. But it was true. She wanted peace. She wanted it more than anything, but as much as she did she couldn't stop her emotion. It was there. It divided her, it filled her, it consumed her. It made her a human being, and for the first time she wondered if one could be both a Jedi and a human being.

There is no emotion!

She ignored the words playing in her mind. As much as she wanted to believe them, she could not. There was emotion, whether she liked it or not, and she was constantly haunted by that fact. She wanted to be as emotionless as the wisest of Masters, but it was there. It was blocking her path. She could not move it, climb it, go around it. There was nothing she could do.

THERE IS NO EMOTION!

Heather covered her ears, even though the words were not audible. She cried even harder, as if in subconscious defiance to those words. There is no emotion, yet she felt it. She showed it. She hid it, but could she forever? This had not been the first time she had been here, crying, although the tears had not been so frequent or so heavy. But him...he had returned, and he had made things different.

There is no emotion...

"There is peace."

Her head snapped up, and there sitting on one of the medical cots with his back rested against the wall, was him. The one who caused these tears. The one who had created these emotions inside of her. Zark Ekan stood before him, staring straight ahead and not looking at her. What had he meant by what he said? If he had been reading her mind, could he not tell that there was emotion?

"There is peace," Zark said again, "Sometimes even with emotion...if you know where to look for it."

"And you do?" she snapped, trying to dry her face, but more tears came.

"I did...once upon a time," Zark said, smiling softly, "I even grasped it once, if only for a moment."

"I suppose you want some medicine for your hangover," she said sharply, glaring at him.

"I'm not drunk," he replied before she could get up.

"...I...I'm sorry?"

"I said, I'm not drunk," Zark said again, turning his head ever so gently to look at her, "I ran into that pub with you with every intention if drinking myself into oblivion. I didn't even want to remember who I was, but..."

He trailed off.

"Does this mean..." she began, "that you're not..."

"Oh, I'll drink again," he said, "One of the drawbacks of being an alcoholic, I suppose."

"What happened to you, Zark?" she dared to ask one more time, "What really happened? Why do you have so much you want to forget?"

"Have you ever seen death, Heather?" Zark asked.

"I'm a healer, Zark. I was here during Endgame," she said, simply.

"Have you ever seen it...up close..." he struggled, "Have you ever seen murder?"

"I...I don't know," she said, thinking, "I...maybe."

"Have you ever killed?"

"What? No!" she said, "Zark, you know me. I would never...is that what this is about? Are you sad because you killed a man?"

"Sad when I killed a man?" Zark echoed, chuckling, "I...probably wasn't. I probably wasn't sad when I killed a man."

"So what is this about?" she asked.

"I was...I was on Ossus when Thrawn came," Zark whispered, "I was there when the Chiss invaded."

She was very surprised at this.

"What...did you do?"

"I killed," Zark stated simply, "I killed and I killed and I killed. I saw men around me...men following me...die. I have tried to justify everything I did that day as best I could, but the only thing that really matters to me in the end...is that I led those men. I led them to their deaths."

"Zark, I-"

"You'd think you'd forget them after a while," Zark cut her off, "But I remember. I remember every...single...fucking...face. Every Chiss I killed. Every soldier that died beside me. Every..."

He paused, and she could see that she was no longer the only one in the room crying. His eyes glistened with moisture, but she could not tell what emotion he was expressing. Sorrow? Fear? Even...anger? Was he angry at himself? She had spent far too long away from the emotional life to tell for sure.

"Every one of those poor bastards I slaughtered..."

"Zark, you were a soldier..." she began, trying to think of something...anything to comfort him with, "You were just-"

She stopped suddenly. Another glisten from Zark's person. But this one did not come from his eyes. It came from his hand, his right hand. At first she thought it was a blaster pistol, but as she rubbed her eyes to stop them from caking, she realized it was something different. Something she had never seen before. It was a gun, she could tell, but...

"Its called," Zark began, "a .357 Magnum revolver. It shoots projectile rounds. One round about half the size of my index finger. Six shots per reload, hammer has to be cocked back after each shot. Not very practical, but extremely accurate and with a vicious stopping power."

Zark removed one of the bullets. He placed it upon the crevice between his index and middle finger, pushing up and hopping it to the next one. And he went down the line of crevices, going back when he reached his pinky, until it became so fast that Heather could not longer tell for sure what was a finger and what was the bullet.

"I've seen one of these take men's heads off," Zark continued, speaking as if that was a completely normal thing to say, "When you kill...its like nothing you've felt before. You'd think it'd be easy. One swipe of the lightsaber, one pull of the trigger...but it isn't. Not the first time. Not the second time. And it never gets any fucking easier. But sometimes once you start...it isn't so easy to stop."

She stared at him, silent, obviously scared. Was he really crazy like he said he had been? Should she be fearing for her safety? No, Zark would never harm her. Or, at least, he would never harm her in his right might, but...until a few seconds ago she had thought he would never harm another living being. She had been wrong them. Very wrong. Should she run? Would that make things worse?

"Do you want to know where I was?" Zark asked, bringing her from her thoughts, "When I was AWOL, I mean."

A very long pause, and then finally, she nodded.

"No you don't," Zark said, his voice bordering on menacing, "And don't you ever fucking as me to tell you. You wanted to know what happened to me. Did I answer your question? Did you get what you wanted?"

He did not give her time to answer, even if she had had the courage to speak at that moment. The man she no longer knew occupying the cot she had just been staring at was gone. She had never even seen him leave, and she did not doubt that he had wanted it that way.

He had answered her question, but she had not gotten what she wanted. Not by a long shot. And, in the darkness of the medical ward, the crying slowly began to start anew.

Bottles of assorted liquors littered the floor of the small room offered to him by the Jedi Order. He highly doubted they intended for him to use it like this, but right now he didn't care about much else than the drink. How could something that dulled the pain so much be so bad, anyway? They didn't know what they were talking about. Alcohol is a very good cure for anything.

He half tossed, half dropped the cigarette butt into the ash tray, reaching for another one, and finding that he had none. For a few short moments, he debated whether or not he should go find another pack, but common sense told him he wouldn't find any nearby and laziness and drunkenness prevented him from searching. He still had the liquor, anyway.

Zark Ekan was a very pathetic individual at this moment in time. He realized this, understood it, had come to terms with it, and was definitely in no hurry to rectify the situation. Laying down on his small bed, he took another swig of whatever the hell he had available in his hands at the moment. The taste had become indistuinguishable. Alcohol was alcohol. It all tasted the same to him now.

Then let me be pathetic, he thought to himself, Someone has to.

His memories faded back to his days as a Jedi Padawan, back when he had learned the ways of the Order. Defenders of peace and justice throughout the galaxy...he chuckled to himself as he thought of that phrase. Defender...he could barely defend his liquor stash if anyone attempted to steal it right now. Peace...it had been quite some time since he had found peace himself, why should he give it to others? Justice...he no longer knew what justice was anymore. Galaxy...this galaxy was a pathetic shadow of what it once was.

"And yet here you are, at the Jedi Order."

Zark's head shot up, but he couldn't see anyone. He squinted and crossed his eyes, fighting through the drunkenness to find out who was the one responsible for speaking. He could not see anyone, and decided that it was just the alcohol playing tricks with his mind. He was no stranger to that, as he had had many conversations with non-existant people before.

"Non-existant? Zark...I'd have thought you more polite."

"I'm drunk, leave me alone," Zark nearly shouted, too lazy to sit up this time.

"I can see that," the voice replied, "But its not like I can really talk to anyone else?"

"Whosit?" the drunken Jedi managed.

"Forgot me already?" it was a female, he realized, "Tsk tsk..."

"Heather?" Zark asked. The bottle of liquor fell from his limp hand, rolling and spilling upon the bed and finally falling off and shattering on the floor.

"Maybe I should come back later..."

Zark mumbled something.

"I'm sorry?" the voice asked.

"Katherine..." he repeated, loud enough to be comprehensible.

"Ah, there we go," Katherine beamed, slowly coming into focus. Well, not necessarily focus, but enough for Zark to see a blur, "I see you're not too drunk to have a conversation with."

"I'm pretty drunk..." Zark muttered.

"Indeed you are," she conceded, "I'd make you some coffee, but the whole dead thing has its limits.

"Thsindtbestie..."

"You're going incoherent, Zark," Katherine said sharply, "Sound it out."

"Thisssh...id not....the beshht time," he managed.

"I can see that," Katherine replied, "But, unfortunately, there aren't many more times that could be considered the 'best time' in your short term future."

"...Xovvy?" Zark asked, giggling slightly.

"...yes," Katherine said, "And don't giggle ever again. Thats just scary. Xoverus is getting closer, Zark. You don't have much time. You have to go."

"But I like it here...." he mumbled, "S'pretty."

"Focus, Zark! Focus!"

"UUhhhnnn...focusss, check," he grinned lopsidedly.

"Hes coming, Zark," she warned as cryptically as possible to a drunken mark, "And if he finds you here, he'll find her. And he'll take her. And he'll kill her."

"Whooo?" Zark asked, loudly, "Whoooo? Whoooo whoooo....owl...."

"Damnit, Zark, listen!" Katherine yelled, "My time is almost up. He will find her and kill her if you don't leave soon!"

"Who...Katherine?" Zark asked, "Shes already dead, silly."

"No, Zark!" she said, "Heather! She'll take Heather!"

"Heather?" Zark echoed.

The blur began to fade, and Katherine's voice did as well. Before she fulled dissapeared, one last sentence was delivered.

"Don't go alone."

"Heather? Wait, Heather?" Zark mumbled, almost to himself, "Don't leave, Heather. Please don't leave me...Heather?"

Wow, not bad Gevel.

The drunkard fell to the ground, too inebriated to walk properly anymore. He began crawling, trying to get out of the middle of the sidewalk so as to avoid being trampled by those uncaring around him. Nevermind there was no one around him. The man seemed completely useless, just another burden upon society, but Jeremiah happened to like burdens upon society.

No, what had drawn him to this man was his want for survival. He was crawling to avoid being preyed upon, and while it was something likely...very likely subconscious, it was still there. Survival. One of humanity's most basic instincts. One of the things that did not seperate man from beast. Jeremiah also happened to like beasts.

The man, and his surroundings, seemed fitting. The worst part of town in the worst town on the planet. There were many people like this drunkard, fumblind through the backalleys of nobody-cared-where, but none quite like him. Yes, the perfect man. And the perfect place. It wasn't just the planet, it was where it was. Or more importantly, where it was near. It was near Naboo.

And as of late, all of Darth Xoverus's thought had been fixed upon Naboo.

For there lied his nemesis. There lied his rival. There lied his foe. There lied a man that wanted nothing to do with him or other people in general. Jeremiah Xoverus had lost their duel, but he had left Zark Ekan a broken, twisted, shell of a man, with nothing much of importance left in his life. But that was not enough. Not for Jeremiah.

No, Darth Xoverus was not content with merely leaving Zark Ekan cold and alone. He wanted to burn him. Burn his life. Burn everything in it. Destroy everything he held dear, what little fell under that category. He wanted to break Zark Ekan, once and for all. And once he had done so, he wanted to kill him. Slowly. He wanted to watch him die.

Xoverus's first thoughts had been to rush off to Naboo right away, finish the job there, but that was rash. There were too many people there willing to protect him. Protect him[/]...even after all that he had done. It made Xoverus sick. So he had come to this planet, who's name he could not remember and did not care to be reminded.

The Sith's power had never layed in strength, although he was quite a formidable opponent, but in deception and cloak and daggers. He would let the Jedi come to him, as he surely would. The spirit of Katherine was playing her part well, even if she did not know it. The dead wife of the man who's body Xoverus occupied would be leading Zark to him. Oh, the irony was so great it almost made Jeremiah laugh. Almost.

His attention returned to the drunkard. He was on the verge of passing out, the alcohol doing its dirty little work upon his body. Jeremiah had witnessed it happened for many nights now, for he had been watching the man for some time now. Xoverus had even bothered to find out his name, Werkzeug. Werkzeug had no meaning in life. Xoverus was about to change that. Tonight, he would not pass out as he had done so many nights before. Tonight, he would find purpose.

The drunkard rolled around, struggling to find a comfortable position to lose consciousness in, covering himself in who-knew what kind of filth. He didn't care. He [i]was filth, he was only adding to the pile. At first he thought it to be a hallucination brought on by the alcohol when he saw the shadow emerging from the other shadows, but this seemed all too real.

"Werkzeug..." Xoverus whispered.

"Whoissit?"

"It is your master, Werkzeug." Jeremiah said, as if it were obvious.

"I dun..." Werkzeug mumbled, "I dun havva mashta."

"Do not anger your master, Werkzeug!" Xoverus hissed sharply.

Lightning crackled around the shadow that represented Xoverus, spreading to the close walls of the alley, ripping through chunks of durasteel. Werkzeug's eyes widened. This was like none of the other hallucinations whom he had spoken with before. He had even made friends with a few of them. No, this...this was so terrifying it must be real.

"Now, Werkzeug, what am I?" Xoverus asked, faking kindness.

"My..." Werkzeug whispered, "My...my..."

"Your what?" Xoverus asked, getting impatient.

"My mashta..." Werkzeug finally managed.

"Good, Werkzeug," Xoverus whispered, and then he voice turned deathly serious and much louder, "Werkzeug, you will be my apostle. Through you, this city shall know me. They shall know the Lord Xoverus, and they shall play their part in destroying the Jedi Knight Zark Ekan, a man of great evil."

"Yes mashta..." Werkzeug mumbled, although he understood none of it.

"Now Werkzeug, this is going to hurt," Jeremiah's face twisted into a hideous grin, "A lot."

Zark had had some very awkward moments in the time immediately after he had woken from an all drinking binge, but he had never before had his door blown open from the sheer force of a blow. It wasn’t something he would normally necessary find surprising, especially considering some things he had done while drunk in the past, but he hadn’t really expected it to happen in a Jedi Academy.

Aenix burst into the room, saber drawn but deactivated, a look of desperately controlled rage upon his face. Zark could tell, even with the devastating headache, that the Jedi was doing all he could not to leap across the room and slice off his head at that moment, and Zark could only imagine what he had done last night to deserve it, although he had no doubts that he did.

Nathaniel arrived a few moments later, quite obviously out of breath, and leaned against the splintered door frame to catch his breath. He seemed to desperately want to say something, but had no air to do it with. Meanwhile, Aenix was very close to shattering his lightsaber in his completely white hands.

“Zark…” he finally managed, “Aenix…”

“I noticed,” Zark grumbled in response.

The Jedi Knight stood up very slowly and then began to make his way over to the closet, ignoring the seething man he had but yesterday been talking and laughing and reminiscing about old times with. He massaged his left temple with one hand, wincing in pain at what the movement was doing to his headache. He slid open the closet door and began to toss out some clothes to wear for the day.

In an all-too-sudden moment, the shirt he held in his hand fell from his grasp as a very strong pair of hands grabbed him by his collar and yanked him up against the wall. In his hung over state, Zark had barely recognized Aenix’s movement, much less act to defend himself from it.

“What did you do to her?” Aenix hissed, seething.

“Fear leads to anger-“ Zark began, before being pulled back and slammed against the wall again.

“Don’t you frelling try to lecture me!” Aenix growled out at him.

“Anger leads to hate, hate leads to-“ Zark ignored the warnings, receiving another good slam and a toss across the room.

“Suffering…” Zark grunted, “Fear is the path to the dark side.”

“I hold no fear for you, you little wretch!” Aenix yelled.

“But you have more than enough hate to make up for it,” Zark countered, just loud enough for Aenix to hear it, “Now what did I do to whom?”

“You know who!” Aenix literally bellowed, “Heather! What did you do to her?!”

“Is she okay?” Zark asked, very alarmed. He struggled to remember what had happened last night.

“Is she okay?! Is she okay?!” Aenix screamed, “You damn well know she isn’t! You damn well knew it when you left her crying in the infirmary last nigh-“

“Aenix, please,” Nathaniel had managed to regain his breath, and, still puffing a bit, continued, “You don’t know the effects of alcohol, but there are two of us in this room that do, and one of the common side effects is memory loss. I do believe that Zark honestly has no idea why you’re throwing him around his own room.”

“Bullshit! He knows! He remembers!” Aenix grabbed him by the collar again and hoisted him up, “Cowardly little drunkard hiding behind your own frelling addiction!”

“Aenix, please,” Nathaniel pleaded, “This is not our way. He doesn’t remember-“

“I do,” Zark said, ever so quietly.

“I’m sorry?” Nathaniel asked, very startled.

“You see?!” Aenix screamed, slamming him against the wall again, “And you were trying to defend him! Who knows what this little rat did to her last night!”

“We talked.” Zark answered, very calmly.

“Just talked?” Nathaniel asked, hopefully.

“Just talked,” Zark confirmed.

“You filthy little lia-“

“Aenix! Please!” Nathaniel stomped a foot on the ground.

“Oh bugger off!” Aenix spat, “He’s not worth your pity! He’s not worth this room! He’s not worth that frelling title he shouldn’t have earned!”

“Then I suppose you’ll be happy to know I’m leaving,” Zark said.

The surprise hit Aenix so fully that he dropped the Jedi from the wall, continuing to stare at the blank spot even after Zark slipped around him, opening the closet door and pulling down a lot more clothes than just ones for the day. He paused, stare at the clothes, thought, and tossed them back into the closet. He went over for his Jedi robe, changed his mind again, and grabbed a ratty brown cloak suspended next to it.

The drunkard Jedi made his way for the door, only to be blocked by Nathaniel.

“Leaving?! What? Why?” Nathaniel managed to spew out.

“Who the frell cares?” Aenix mumbled loud enough for both of them to hear, “Let him go. We’ll be rid of him, and Heather will be better off for it.”

Zark managed to slide past the dumbfounded Nathaniel, leaving them both in a room vacated as suddenly and mysteriously as it had been first occupied. Wrapping the cloak tightly around his body, Zark covered his face once more to the world and began his walk to the Theed spaceport.

************

The spaceport was, as always, bustling with activity. Hundreds of different species and thousands of different entities roaming to and fro, each with their own business to attend to. Before, when Zark had been normal, he hadn’t put too much thought into it, but now when he looked at it all he felt a sense of surrealism. As if it was hard to imagine all of these different people with individual histories and minds could exist at once.

Zark’s view of the world had been broadened with the addition of more than one entity into his body not too long ago, and it was definitely not something he had ever really enjoyed. Because of this, he felt a deep discomfort whenever in largely occupied areas. Solitude was a gift he had learned not to waste, and it bordered on apathy for all other life in the galaxy.

It did not take him long to finally reach his ship. He had developed ways of moving easily through crowds with the aid of the force, giving people small hints to get out of his way – or, as they believed, to walk in a direction that happened to take them out of his way – and reaching out with the force to navigate the easiest possible route to his destination. If one were to look down at the spaceport from above, they would see Zark Ekan walking easily with an empty circle all around him for about two or three feet.

Looking upon the ship he had flown into Naboo what seemed like an eternity ago, Zark could honestly not remember where he had procured the space vehicle. It could have been through entirely legitimate means, but probably not. A disturbing thought ran through his mind when he thought about this; how many people had died in the process of obtaining this vessel? It wasn’t something Zark wanted to think about, but he knew that the number probably exceeded five.

What would his friends…his old friends…think if they had known that? What would the Jedi Master Organa Solo think if she knew that? It had been a bad idea to return here, Zark realized. He had been fooling himself with hopes of redemption. He had been fooling Organa Solo and Aenix and Nathaniel but most of all, most importantly and most terribly, he had been fooling Heather. He had lured her on…again. It was something he’d never do again. Or at least, he prayed to whoever up above hadn’t given up on him already that he wouldn’t.

“Zark! Zark!” came a very shrill voice. Speak of the devil.

Zark did not turn. He did not pause. He did not acknowledge her in any way. She was the reason he had come back, he realized. She was the reason. She was the cause. She was why he could not let go of a Jedi Order that had already let go of him. And the worst part of it all was that it was not her fault. Not one bit. The blame could only ever be laid upon his shoulders, and he was too willing to take it.

The ship ramp made a hiss as it began to lower, and Zark began a trudge up into the shadows that he had killed for. He could still hear her in the background, yelling his name, thinking he hadn’t heard her, oblivious to the fact that he was ignoring her. It would be so easy. Walk the last few steps, leave it all behind. Never have to see these people again.

He turned. It wasn’t easy enough. He had to see her one last time.

“Zark,” she had finally made it to the ramp, and paused to gasp in air like it was going somewhere.

He immediately regretted turning around.

“Yes?” he asked. His voice was a monotone, emotionless, too emotionless, and he could see the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for his tone, for last night, for everything. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be a Jedi again. He wanted, most of all, her.

Life isn’t always wishes that come true. He had learned that along time ago. None of his ever would.

“I…Aenix…he was so mad…it was…all my fault,” she gasped, still not fully recovered, “Nathaniel…he said…you were leaving…because of me…”

“I have my own reasons,” Zark said, and turned once more.

“So you are leaving?” she asked, regaining her breath fully, “Just like that? No goodbye? Nothing?”

“Goodbye.”

The hatch closed with a hiss.

From the other side of the spaceport, Aenix and Nathaniel both watched as the events folded out, watched as the ship began to take off, saw the hurt expression plaguing Heather’s face. They watched all of this, one with a look of sorrow, the other with one of a bitter contempt.

“So he’s gone,” Nathaniel said.

“Yeah,” Aenix replied.

“She’s going after him, isn’t she?” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes, she is,” Aenix confirmed.

“We’re going after her, aren’t we?” Nathaniel asked.

“We’re going after both of them,” Aenix replied, turning away, “Get the ship ready.”

“Both of them?” Nathaniel gawked, his eyes wide.

“I’m not through with him yet,” Aenix casually offered over his shoulder.

Nathaniel’s surprised expression slowly faded.

“Figures.”

OOC: I owe a story. I'm going to finish it.