Scout wandered the Room of a Thousand Fountains aimlessly, closely resembling the fading shadows that loomed around her, fading in and out of existence with no clear purpose. Just like her. For a time, she had thought she was dead, bound to haunt the scorched rooms of the Jedi Temple until the heavens fell from the sky.

But she knew all too well what being alive felt like. Pain. Suffering. Grief.

Whie was dead. Scout had seen his body, an obscenely large gash scarring his chest, thrown to burn like the rest of the Temple. All she had left of him was his lightsaber, something she had scavenged in the past few days that she had been trapped inside the complex. It gave her something to cling to, even If she had no other reason to live.

Because she couldn't leave. Although the Temple had been for the most part abandoned, there were still scattered contingents of clone troopers roaming the halls, patrolling for any stragglers. Men Scout had fought alongside in the last year of the war. Less than a day ago they'd fired on some Jedi that had been foolish enough to return to the Temple. She hadn't seen them, only heard the relentless blaster fire that reminded her too much of the night everyone she cared about had died.

Maybe the Temple was some kind of sick purgatory, forcing her to walk amongst the remains of people she had once been friends with, until she grew so disgusted that she turned Whie's lightsaber on herself. Maybe then she'd be free. Or maybe she had to rescue what remaining bodies there were littering the Temple, bodies the clones hadn't burned yet, and create her own funeral pyre, burning alive while the dead burned around her, like some sort of cruel, sick joke.

That's what it felt like to her. A sick joke.

Both of her Masters had been torn from her by the war. And then her best friend. Along with everyone else. What was possibly the galaxy's cruelest trick was that the Jedi's one true hope, Anakin Skywalker, had fallen to the dark side, destroying whatever remnants of the Order he could get his hands on. It was as if the galaxy had conspired to take everyone who came into contact with her away, corrupt those who survived, and then reduce everything else to ashes for good measure.

The only reason she was alive was because she ran. When Anakin had come into the training room, Whie had saved her by pushing her out of the way before Anakin's blue blade ruthlessly swept down upon them like a shining scythe. Whie had tried to fight him, telling her all the time to run, to get clear, that his time had come, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to believe it, and watched as Anakin effortlessly knocked Whie's lightsaber aside, slashing him across his chest, exactly the way Whie had described from his dreams. Anakin had let her run past him, probably deeming her too weak to be any real threat, expecting her to die among the troopers.

But she was alive. Maybe it was that very weakness in the Force that had spared her. Perhaps the Force was just some kind of sadistic cosmic power, experimenting in the number of ways it could make mortals kill each other, and laughing as those very same mortals worshipped it. What joy had the Force ever brought into her life? It had completely forsaken her, condemned Whie to death, and lured Anakin to the dark side. Maybe there was no light and dark, only suffering. Or maybe there was only dark.

Well, Force or no, she'd be free from it all soon enough.

She hadn't eaten anything since that night. The fountains no longer flowed with water. Scout doubted she'd last another five hours, let alone a day, without something to sustain her. But she'd never been one to give up so easily. There was still hope that she could find some way out of the Temple, and…and what? She couldn't think that far ahead. But Scout wasn't so far gone that she couldn't appreciate the bitter irony of the situation.

She'd spent her whole life striving to be a Jedi. It had taken her blood, sweat, and tears to make it happen, but she'd made it. Now, barely a year later, she was literally dying to leave the Temple.

The thought made her cackle, a harsh, cynical sound that fully expressed her state of mind right then. She briefly wondered if she'd descended into insanity. Again came the doubts.

Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe she wasn't real. Maybe-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clanking footsteps coming from the other end of the room. Troopers.

The gigantic garden-room was dotted with doors leading to areas of the Temple, the nearest being the way to the Archives. Before the troopers could get a glimpse of her, she flew into the hallway leading to the library-and tripped over a datapad. She had to close her eyes to suppress her desire to vocalize the string of curses running through her mind, but she picked herself up and kept running.

Actually, she had no idea if the troopers had heard her or not. Those helmets were soundproof. They could have been crying during that horrible night and she wouldn't have known. How could they betray the Jedi they'd served so faithfully for nearly three years without any emotion whatsoever?

That confusion suddenly transformed into anger. Yes, how could they? A sudden desire for vengeance crept into her mind. Maybe this was why she was still alive. To avenge all the people that were killed on that horrible night, to make sure that their deaths weren't in vain, to inflict the pain she felt so strongly upon everyone else...

No. That's not the Jedi way. Even if I'm going to die here, I'm going to die a Jedi, like Master Maruk, like Whie…

As she ran, she wept for the person Whie was before he was killed at the hands of Anakin. She wept for the deaths of her Masters. She wept for Anakin's betrayal, and for the destruction of the Jedi Order. She wept for herself… because she was afraid.

I don't want to die. Is that normal for a Jedi? What happens to me? Am I going to be a ghost? Or am I just going to cease to exist?

The thought frightened her. It was a horrible idea, the thought that everything she'd worked so hard for might not even matter.

But she didn't have time to philosophize about what death really was, because she had to find a decent place to hide inside the library. She cursed herself for a fool as she realized what a worthless place it was to escape from her pursuers. It was dark, yes, but as she ran inside she realized that if she hid behind any shelf, she'd be cornered on either side by the troopers, with no way out; the shelves reached all the way to the second floor, and unless she suddenly became strong enough in the Force to break through durasteel, she would be completely trapped. The sound of troopers' footsteps became more and more audible as she considered what she could do.

Well, fine.

Scout knew the layout of the library well enough. Before she'd been a Padawan she'd spent hours upon hours inside these walls, studying harder than everyone else just so she could become one. Unlike the others, she didn't have the luxury of natural Force-talent, and she needed some kind of edge over them. She had to get creative.

Even now, her bright mind was already working out how she could fight a squad of troopers armed with nothing but two lightsabers, her minimal control over the Force, and whatever she could find in the library. At the same time, her eyes wandered over the Library, searching for escape routes and places where she could seek cover if it came down to an ambush.

At the back of the lengthy room was the vault where the Masters stored the holocrons. Padawans weren't allowed in there, no one except for the Council was allowed in there, but she doubted that there were any Masters left to scold her. Besides, these were extenuating circumstances she was dealing with. She hoped there would be better cover in there. At least there was only one entrance.

When she arrived in front of the doors, she cursed when she found it was locked. Forget this. Scout ignited her lightsaber and cut through the circular security door, forming an opening small enough for her thin body to crawl through.

Now I've gone and done it.

A second door blocked the way. That made her stop and think for a moment. Seriously? She cut through that door too. Mentally she entertained the image of troopers trying to get through the holes, stuck between the small crevice that separated the two security doors. She had to stifle a laugh.

Finally, she was in the security hall.

Stang.

Security lasers lanced across the low ceilinged, circular security hall. The Vault was only a short distance away-she could see the blue pulse of the holocrons-but she'd have to get past the lasers to get there. Normally she'd be acrobatic enough to get through them, but she was just so exhausted.

Well, if you're too tired, you could always go back and share your problems with the clones. I'm sure they'll be so receptive. Maybe they'll even let you have some of their ration packs. Yummy.

Sarcasm was second nature to her now. So was cynicism.

Okay, if there was ever a time to use the Force, this is it.

Scout took a deep breath, let what little Force energy she had envelop her body, and leaped. She was lithe enough to fit through the smallest openings between each set of lasers, and with the Force guiding her motions, she was able to land gracefully on the tips of her fingers before hurtling through the air towards the other side of the hallway. Scout landed on her feet, crouched and tensed, expecting some other trap, but when none came, she relaxed, letting her back slide against one of the shelves of holocrons. She was surprised to find that she felt good.

It had been a while since she'd had the chance to lose herself in the intensity of the chase. Not since the Clone Wars, when she'd spent most of her missions chasing down suspected Separatist sympathizers and running for her life from hordes of battle droids. Fleeing from the troopers gave her the same feeling of exhilaration.

No, it wasn't just that. It was the Vault too.

The Vault was dark, lit only by the ephemeral blue glow of the holocrons that were lined up on the dilating racks around the dome-shaped room. It seemed smaller than she expected. Scout had thought that generations of Jedi wisdom would fill more than a couple of shelves in a small vault. Some of the shelves weren't even completely filled.

Maybe there wasn't that much wisdom to share. Not everyone lived as long as Master Yoda.

But she could feel the pure Force energy emanating from the holocrons, pulsing as the holocrons did, giving off waves of reassurance and confidence. The pangs of hunger vanished from her stomach, and all exhaustion was wiped from her bones. Entranced, she rose from the floor, moving towards the single pillar in the middle of the room. She could feel it calling towards her in the Force. It was unusual. Scout was lucky to feel anything in the Force. But the concentration of it was so great in this room, she half-believed she could defeat all of the troopers coming after her with a single Force push.

When she stood in front of the pillar, she realized that the sense of something calling out to her in the Force wasn't coming from the pillar itself, but from behind it. Scout walked around to the other side, slowly, not sure what to expect. Dimly she was aware of the clone troopers taking up positions outside to blast through the doors, and she ignited her lightsaber's sky blue blade.

What she found on the other side nearly made her drop it on the floor.

Lying down on the floor was a boy, a boy with dark, messy hair and a long braid signifying that he was-used to be-a Padawan. A Jedi. Suddenly he stirred, coming into consciousness with her presence.