A/N: Sooooo I actually just wrote the second part, and then decided that it needed background, and then debated whether or not I should post the background because it might ruin the atmosphere.... @_@ Make me happy and completely separate the two parts in your mind, k? Because we need that atmosphere ;p
Yeah, I know that I think too much. In any case, this is not really new or groundbreaking, but I was inspired by the plight (
http://www.worldpress.org/Africa/1561.cfm#down) of women (
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/01/11/60minutes/main3701249.shtml) in Congo (
http://scotlandonsunday.scotsman.com/features/Femicide-in-the-Congo-.4980370.jp).
Read it. Talk about it. It has to stop.
* * *
“You think you are Sith?” his voice asked mockingly. “Indeed, I am unfit to be your master because I do not believe in wanton slaughter and most certainly because I do not throw tantrums and subsequently attempt to murder you. You have much to teach me, my friend.”
No one was really surprised when Malak didn’t answer. He was crouched like a wounded terantatek, with the coiled tension of an animal that was cornered and two breaths away from lashing out. One shaking hand was pressed to the gaping wound where his jaw had been before Revan…removed it. The Dark Lord let in the medical and cleaning droids, silently noting that he wasn’t usually as messy as he was this time.
“Get out.”
Malak obeyed, footsteps heavy with silenced agony and rage. In Revan’s opinion, muting Malak’s garrulous voice had been a rather desirable side-effect.
The young woman shrank back in the corner, wishing she could slink out under his notice yet somehow fearful of doing so.
“You’re still here?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Your service has been noted. Stay away from Malak; he will not forget this incident.”
“I understand.”
Revan said nothing, looking out of the window instead at the ravaged world below. She wondered whether she should leave, and was about to do so when he spoke again.
“What do you understand by the Dark Side?”
Her confusion was evident and her knee-jerk response was not unexpected, “Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength…”
“I asked what you understand by the Dark Side. The Dark Side and the Sith are often confused for each other but they are not the same thing. Yet if you wish to truly become a Sith, you must first understand the Dark Side.”
She had prostrated herself already, even though his back was to her. “Yes, master.”
“Answer me.”
“I do not know, master.”
“Do you know why we fight?”
“To destroy the Republic, my Lord.”
The masked face inclined itself slightly. “Perhaps. But why?”
“I do not know.”
“And no one can teach you. I will only tell you this: you already have the key. You are discharged. Go to the Outer Rim, and beyond if necessary. When you have found the truth, I will be waiting.”
* * *
Years later
They were always silent at first. There is something about voiceless, bottled pain that makes it all the more unbearable to look it—perhaps because it was too reminiscent of that first woman lying on the dusty road. Her clothes had been caked with dried blood, to the point that her skirt would have been able to stand by itself, yet my fingers had come away moist with a dark, warm stickiness. The smell hit me then, and I realize that she also was incontinent.
I touched her face.
Too weak. Can’t run Can’t fight. My baby is dead. He was dying anyway. The soldiers took me. And then with guns. They fired the gun. Bleeding. It hurts. Blood on the dried grass. Nowhere to go.
A tear slid down my face—silkily, sultrily—and onto hers. It traced a dark path across the laterite dust on her cheek. She did not stir. Salt and dust blanched her thick lashes, a painfully beautiful contrast with her ebony skin.
Hurts. All dead now. Hurts.
She was going mad; probably because the only lucid part of her could only ask “Why?”
Why this senseless cruelty?
Why attack us?
Why rape us?
She knew the truth—that there really was no reason, only that she was weaker than they were, and this was how they shamed them all. The truth is a terrible thing, a maddening thing. The truth was why she had finally given up in the midday sun, flies waiting for her to die before they laid their eggs in her flesh. She passed away without a whisper or a sigh. She merely was not. May the Force be with you, I whispered. The thought that the Force could allow such a thing to happen paralysed me, and then the Force was nothing to me.
And so that was how it ended, and how it began. In…silence.
Revan was right, after all.
Tears did not bring her back. Emotion did not bring her back.
A low hum was a speeder full of soldiers. I did not leave her side. I did not glance at it bearing down on me.
I would never be weak.
They would never be weak.
I would teach them strength.
The ghost of the woman looked at me in sorrow as she faded, her beautiful face no longer marred by swollen bruises and broken cheekbones.
The speeder’s engine roared as they revved it. I could hear them whooping hysterically. I straightened the woman’s limbs before I stood up. If I had known her name, I would have said it.
Because I can move faster than they thought I could. Because I had a lightsaber. Because this was for her.
The lightsaber plunged into the side of speeder as I braced myself. It spun in fast, tight circles. Almost all the soldiers had fallen out by the time it exploded. Almost.
Death by fire was more merciful than what the others received.
When it was over, I buried her body, returning her to the earth that she had loved. I laid their guns over her grave.
I understand now, Revan.
I understand why you walked that path. You turned anger into strength and broke us all upon your will.
One day, I too will die. I will think of her as that one last breath hisses out between my teeth, and wonder if she found anything after death. Until then, I will lead the silent ones, for she was but one of many.
Passion gives me strength.
We will never be weak again