Week Three: Jacen
Rating: PG

From TFN: A Drabble is an extremely short work of fiction with exactly one hundred words. The purpose of the drabble is to teach brevity and test author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in an extremely confined space. They must be 100 words each. No more, no less.


Red hair. Twisted tightly together in a braid. Even in the dim lights of her royal chambers he can make them out. The escaped wisps, the knotted braids. He smiles lazily, as he leans over and begins tracing patterns on her skin with his finger.

As soon as his finger touches her skin, her eyes pop open, staring out at him, shining softly in the dim light. Her voice is a whisper, reverent, loving.

"Friend Jacen."

There is something there that scares him. Makes the flesh around his eyes tighten. He doesnít know if he can handle what he sees.


Grey eyes. He dreams every night of grey eyes, shining softly in the dim light. Every night he feels the pain growing, the ache, the loneliness.

He knows who the eyes belongs to, but they still haunt him. Call to him over the distance. Begs him to return. To cut his sabbatical short. To return to the Jedi and to her.

He rubs his face, as he tries to figure out why they call to him so, why they haunt him.

He knows. But he doesnít want to admit it. But deep down he knows.

The grey eyes are home.


White. The blinding white of snow. The cold steals his breathe away, burns his exposed skin, as he stumbles out of the burning wreckage. He sees a pale hand sticking from the wreckage.

He stumbles that way, and pulls the chunk of metal away, seeing Wynís unconscious form. He grabs her and pulls her close, wrapping his robe around her. He glances the way they came.

He brings her mouth close to his cheek, praying to the Force that she is alive. He sighs in relief as he can feel the warm, moist air coming from her nose and mouth.


The depths of the mines. Inky blackness surrounding him. He can feel the hunger, the beasts coming for them. Approaching. A scream from Ben and Nelani. He twists in his seat, looking back, trying to find them. In the Force he can feel them getting further and further away, the tram rockets on.

He turns back and faces forward. Should he jump out and get them? A glance towards where he can feel the other person in the tram with him.

A shake of the head. They are Jedi. They will survive.

He has chosen. There is no looking back.


Blue. Ice. Water.

The soul shattering color of the Tatooine sky.

Even as he hanged in the embrace of pain, those eyes were what he sees, what haunted him.

The grief shatters through him again. He caused him to die. His doubts about his own brother. His grief. His concerns. And then he left him there to fight the battle all by himself.

Even though he knew that Anakin was injured, he dragged Jaina away.

Left Anakin to die.

He didnít even take care of Anakinís last request. He never even told Tahiri that Anakinís dying thoughts were of her.

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