Den of Chaos Fiction
Star Wars: the Phantom Menace


Dawn Breaks
by Zee


Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made, except by Lucas due to my insane spending habits when it comes to two particular Jedi. So don't sue me, I guarantee all you'll get is a bunch of TPM merchandise and one seriously distraught fan.


Dawn Breaks: Obi-Wan

Once I believed I'd love him forever.

The thought stills my movements. It seems oddly fitting in the grey light of the cold, steel morning, the lingering smell of damp ashes from campfires gone dead surrounding me. I always thought he'd be there, a warmth inside me, lighting my soul, casting away the shadows inflicted by battles too numerous to count. But life has taught me differently.

Maybe we have simply been touched by too much pain. Maybe the life we live prescribed this fate for us long ago. How could anything survive the countless deaths, the rank horrors we have been forced to bear witness to? There is a wall between us, formed from our silence. Mortared by our regrets. It stretches across us, holding back the loss we both know lingers there, waiting for us to acknowledge it, to embrace it.

I know him not, this man I walk beside. I can still hear him within my mind, feel him within my body, but he is a stranger now. I wonder how he sees me. Am I simply a pale reflection of the man he use to love? If I have become a stranger to myself why then should it surprise me that he no longer knows me?

Maybe there is no more for us to give; maybe these wars have left our souls barren. Hollow and dry we walk beside each other, ghosts of moments gone by playing across our minds, specters flicking across eyes gone all but blind. Maybe we will never see clearly again.


As the thought overtakes me I hear him sigh, a soft sound of regret, and slowly, as if my arm were weighted by a thousand planets, I reach my hand out.



Dawn Breaks: Qui-Gon

Once I believed I'd love him forever.

That pale, young boy that walked beside me, an awkward mix of confidence and insecurity. His movements then were filled with an adolescent grace, endearing to watch but nonetheless powerful in battle. I loved that boy with all the remnants of my shattered soul. I didn't want to. I fought it, in fact and in deed, but he broke through my defenses, undoing the damage left by another.

Now there are new wounds, deeper and more pain filled, inflicted by the one who once was my healer, my salvation.

How had we changed so much, become strangers to ourselves, to our past? For we are strangers. I know not the man that walks beside me now. How odd when my body can still feel the imprint left from a night of joining, the slight ache and heat impressions that always seem to linger even after we have risen for the day. My body clings to the memory even as my soul reaches for something that has slipped away.

Maybe it was never there.

Maybe we have seen too much, done too much, to remain untouched, whole. Maybe we simply have no more to give, not to ourselves and not to each other. I sigh as my mental ruminations overtake me, swamping me with a wealth of regret.


I see him lift a hand, slowly reaching out to me as we stand in the first soft rays of the full morning sun. I still for a moment, blank. Then, just as slowly, I reach out to clasp it.




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