#gotab

Married. And married to another Force user.

Gotab looked at the bright holoimage of the newly-wed couple. It was impossible to avoid their happy faces. Luke Skywalker, hero of the New Republic, Last of the Jedi, First of the Jedi, hope of a generation and beacon of light had married.

It didn't bother Gotab that she was a former Imperial. He knew all about changing loyalties. It didn't even bother him that she had been a personal agent for the Emperor himself. Palpatine had been crafty even when he had still been know under that name and as chancellor of another Republic of another age. What stuck with him was that, like her husband, Mara Jade was a Jedi.

Jedi.

The word echoed through is mind, touching a past long buried.

Jedi.

Of course it was a laughable notion that Skywalker was the last of the Jedi. Gotab did not laugh. He had lost too much in one day to laugh. Lost things he had been certain he did not care for any longer, things he had been sure he was done with.

But like all things, those had been connected, attached, upheld by people. Block-headed, blind, stubborn people, but people nevertheless. People he knew. People he cared for still. He could not save them all.

Etain.

He could not keep them safe later.

Zey.

In the end he did the only thing he could.

Venku.

And there he was, Luke Skywalker, married to a Jedi, brother to a Jedi, uncle to Jedi children that grew up in a normal family. If the hubbub around the Skywalker-Solos could be called normal. But they grew up in their own family.

It was the better way. No matter what reservations he might have about Skywalker and his approach, in that respect he was doing right. Looking back at his own childhood, his own youth and comparing it to that of Venku or even the Solo children, Gotab knew.

The Temple had offered a kind of home; it had tried to offer a sense of belonging. But how could you belong, really belong, to anything if you were not allowed to get attached to it?

This lightsaber is your life. The words were impressed in his mind. The saber was still in his kit. It was the only attachment he still held towards that past. Now it was taken for a trophy by those who didn't know him. Sometimes it felt like a trophy to himself, a visible sign that he had conquered a system and took with him the one thing worth taking.

It was a lie. Some days lies were easier than the long list of names he carried in his heart and that had grown only longer over the years. How would things have looked if had not left the Order? If he had stayed, helped Etain. Etain. The thought hurt still after all these years, after repeating the scenario over and over in his head. Would he have been able to save her?

Would he have been able to save anybody? He had been the closest liaison the commandos had had with the Jedi. They knew him. Would they have hurt him? Would they have listened to him? There had been rumours that some of the Jedi escaped because their captains and soldiers had refused to believe the blatant lie. Refused to kill people that had taken care of them for three years.

They were few and far between. In that moment it had taken its toll that many Jedi did not stop to think what they were doing. Who the clones were. What the war was doing to all of them. Maybe he should have tried harder. Argued more, been visible and not cease until he had been heard.

But there was no trying. There were only decisions and their consequences. He had made and borne his.

And now he lived. Not as a keeper of peace and justice. Not as a pillar of strength for the people of the galaxy. Not as an ideal or even example to follow. He lived. He belonged. And for those he belonged with, belonged to, he was ready to do anything. It was not an ethic of means and high ideals. It was life born out of necessity and the desire to protect the ones you loved.

You were a good Jedi, he thought. You had morals and ethics, a conscience. It had just been a bad time to be that kind of Jedi. A very, very bad time. But times were changing. There were new Jedi with new ideas. Altiss' pupils might just resurface. A time of possibilities.

For a moment Gotab allowed himself a pang of regret. It was too late to save anybody he knew. But maybe it would be enough to create a future that held Jedi worth having. He would keep an eye on them. Skywalker naturally showed great interest in the Order. The 'old' Jedi Order as it was called now. Still the memories were fresh in Gotab's mind.

He could only hope this Skywalker learnt the lesson for the Order and did not repeat its mistakes. Gotab was tempted to ask some more favours of some of the more gifted of his friends. Make the information vanish; make Skywalker start from scratch. Make the galaxy a better place.

But you could not create a better galaxy for people. They had to do that themselves. It was a lesson he had learnt the hard way and over a long time. Some days it was hard to remember even now. And the more difficult the old data was to find, the more curious Skywalker would get; the more effort he would put into getting it.

You could just tell him, he thought. Skywalker was approachable. And Gotab had ways open to him others could not even dream of. Talk to him. Show him.

The temptation was strong. But it belonged to an older self. A self that had believed he could change the galaxy if only he tried hard enough. By now Gotab knew how and what he could effect. He had a lifetime of experience. He was not the idealistic whippersnapper he had once been. That was another man he had not been able to save.

Married. And married to another Force user.

Gotab looked at the bright holoimage of the newlywed couple. It was impossible to avoid their happy faces. Luke Skywalker, hero of the New Republic, Last of the Jedi, First of the Jedi, hope of a generation and beacon of light had married.

It didn't bother Gotab that she was a former Imperial. He knew all about changing loyalties. It didn't even bother him that she had been a personal agent for the Emperor himself. Palpatine had been crafty even when he had still been know under that name and as chancellor of another Republic of another age. What stuck with him was that, like her husband, Mara Jade was a Jedi.

Jedi.

The word echoed through is mind, touching a past long buried.

Jedi.

Of course it was a laughable notion that Skywalker was the last of the Jedi. Gotab did not laugh. He had lost too much in one day to laugh. Lost things he had been certain he did not care for any longer, things he had been sure he was done with.

But like all things, those had been connected, attached, upheld by people. Block-headed, blind, stubborn people, but people nevertheless. People he knew. People he cared for still. He could not save them all.

Etain.

He could not keep them safe later.

Zey.

In the end he did the only thing he could.

Venku.

And there he was, Luke Skywalker, married to a Jedi, brother to a Jedi, uncle to Jedi children that grew up in a normal family. If the hubbub around the Skywalker-Solos could be called normal. But they grew up in their own family.

It was the better way. No matter what reservations he might have about Skywalker and his approach, in that respect he was doing right. Looking back at his own childhood, his own youth and comparing it to that of Venku or even the Solo children, Gotab knew.

The Temple had offered a kind of home; it had tried to offer a sense of belonging. But how could you belong, really belong, to anything if you were not allowed to get attached to it?

This lightsaber is your life. The words were impressed in his mind. The saber was still in his kit. It was the only attachment he still held towards that past. Now it was taken for a trophy by those who didn't know him. Sometimes it felt like a trophy to himself, a visible sign that he had conquered a system and took with him the one thing worth taking.

It was a lie. Some days lies were easier than the long list of names he carried in his heart and that had grown only longer over the years. How would things have looked if had not left the Order? If he had stayed, helped Etain. Etain. The thought hurt still after all these years, after repeating the scenario over and over in his head. Would he have been able to save her?

Would he have been able to save anybody? He had been the closest liaison the commandos had had with the Jedi. They knew him. Would they have hurt him? Would they have listened to him? There had been rumours that some of the Jedi escaped because their captains and soldiers had refused to believe the blatant lie. Refused to kill people that had taken care of them for three years.

They were few and far between. In that moment it had taken its toll that many Jedi did not stop to think what they were doing. Who the clones were. What the was was doing to all of them. Maybe he should have tried harder. Argued more, been visible and not cease until he had been heard.

But there was no trying. There were only decisions and their consequences. He had made and borne his.

And now he lived. Not as a keeper of peace and justice. Not as a pillar of strength for the people of the galaxy. Not as an ideal or even example to follow. He lived. He belonged. And for those he belonged with, belonged to, he was ready to do anything. It was not an ethic of means and high ideals. It was life born out of necessity and the desire to protect the ones you loved.

You were a good Jedi, he thought. You had morals and ethics, a conscience. It had just been a bad time to be that kind of Jedi. A very, very bad time. But times were changing. There were new Jedi with new ideas. Altiss' pupils might just resurface. A time of possibilities.

For a moment Gotab allowed himself a pang of regret. It was too late to save anybody he knew. But maybe it would be enough to create a future that held Jedi worth having. He would keep an eye on them. Skywalker naturally showed great interest in the Order. The 'old' Jedi Order as it was called now. Still the memories were fresh in Gotab's mind.

He could only hope this Skywalker learnt the lesson for the Order and did not repeat its mistakes. Gotab was tempted to ask some more favours of some of the more gifted of his friends. Make the information vanish; make Skywalker start from scratch. Make the galaxy a better place.

But you could not create a better galaxy for people. They had to do that themselves. It was a lesson he had learnt the hard way and over a long time. Some days it was hard to remember even now. And the more difficult the old data was to find, the more curious Skywalker would get; the more effort he would put into getting it.

You could just tell him, he thought. Skywalker was approachable. And Gotab had ways open to him others could not even dream of. Talk to him. Show him.

The temptation was strong. But it belonged to an older self. A self that had believed he could change the galaxy if only he tried hard enough. By now Gotab knew how and what he could effect. He had a lifetime of experience. He was not the idealistic whippersnapper he had once been. That was another man he had not been able to save.