All it takes is three seconds.
An explosion in the distance, a stray blaster shot, and three seconds.
A lifetime can be contained within that moment.
That moment, those three seconds? They certainly felt like a lifetime to me.
An explosion going off in the peripheral distance, pulling His focus from the battle, stilling his ‘saber from the constant deflection of blaster beams that is so crucial in battle.
A stray beam, flying past where his ‘saber should have stopped it, flying past
where anyone could stop it.
That red beam piercing His stomach, propelling him right off his feet, a look of shock-pain-anguish marring his face, where it should never have been.
A hoarse scream tearing from my lips, too late, far too late. (ANAKIN-)
In the holofilms, a heartbeat track is overlaid on top of the action whenever the dashing lead is shot somewhere fatal. It’s meant to be from the other lead’s perspective. I always thought it was just fanciful cinematic idiocy.
It’s not. I wish I didn't know that.
The world slows down, and everything else falls away as your vision tunnels to just Them, your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and time is just those one, two, three seconds. You chase after them, and sure enough, there He is, leant against what once was a wall, surrounded by a shrine of rubble. The best thing
that has ever happened to you, in all the long years of your life, is laid out, ready to die.
And now you have ten minutes left with them.
If three seconds can stretch to a lifetime, them ten minutes is a millenia, right?
Well, that’s a nice hope, at least.
Time doesn’t like being stolen from, so if you steal a lifetime in three seconds, They will make seconds out of ten minutes.
His eyes, his beautiful, fragile teal eyes will gaze up at you, full of calm acceptance even as a waterfall falls from yours, crystallizing on your lashes.
“You’re wasting - wasting water again.” he will smile, voice cracking as he fights through the pain to clasp his hand to your cheek. He will ask him just to hold him as his spirit departs this world (And maybe, maybe in another world this final goodbye will not be this tender, but in that world he will live, and that is all you have ever wanted for him, for him to live)
A last sentence (Here it is the exchange of those eternal vows -‘I love you/and I will always love you’- There it is bitter, unmeant words for sincere ones -’I Hate You!/and I Loved you’)
A final squeeze to your hand (And you will never remember when he clasped your hand again, but you have not long left on this earth, not if it means he will live)
A last puff of air from his lips (But you can still save him, it’s alright. You will not see him again, but he will live)
You register his death as if the blaster shot had speared you instead, you will wish desperately that it did, and you will face the universe, face the Force, and say No.
There is only one method that is forbidden for both Jedi and Sith alike, and it is the one that you were most interested as a youngling in the temple creche. It is the one you will steel yourself to use now.
I Medui Ofre
The Final Sacrifice
The act of giving up your lifeforce to save another on the point of death, or those gone a few seconds beyond it. This is the final truth of the Jedi of old, that they would give their lives for those they didn’t even know, for the good of the galaxy.
Only you will perform it once again, and not for the galaxy this time. This time you will perform it for your own selfish reasons, your own selfish attachments, your own selfish desires. Because this man, this stunning, shining man must live. And you will gladly, selfishly give your own life if it means he can live on.
The two of you will hang there, untethered to anything but each other and the lifeforce, your lifeforce, that you are feeding into his soul.
His eyes, those glowing eyes that you know are worth dying for, will blink open once more, and they will be the last things that you see before the loving embrace of death will take you.