Rounding a corner at a running pace, ignoring the pleading to stop from his tired muscles and aching lungs, Jerek found himself heading towards a squad of soldiers. White armor, blue trim, respirator masks, these soldiers were the Republic's elite Clone Troopers. The Jedi Padawan visibly relaxed and his rapid breathing slowed, whatever the danger was in the Temple, the clones would soon take care of it. 

Jerek found his breath had disappeared as the dozen troopers turned their rifles on him. Caught with his guard down, his lightsaber inactive and his feet still poised to take another step towards the troopers, the boy suddenly realized how exposed he was. 

Stupid.

His eyes widened as fear took over, his breath returned in little gasps. Jerek gritted his teeth, steeling himself for what was to come. For death. 

He didn't shut his eyes, but the youth's vision was suddenly filled with the sight of his brother. Not as he was in Jerek's last visit with him, with grey, papery skin, deadened eyes and a wan smile as the machines beeped and hissed around him. Nor was he still ten years old, this version of his twin brother was as old as he was. The two had never been mirror copies of each other, and Elias' chubbier figure had turned into a strong frame, larger than Jerek's slender one. His blond hair was just as shaggy and unkempt as Jerek's own, but Elias' head lacked the thin braid that marked Jerek as a padawan learner. 

Jerek took it all in, his spirit accepting this vision wholeheartedly. Elias grinned at him, laughing as if at some shared joke between them. Like it used to be. It was how his twin should look, how Jerek would want his twin to look in the last memory of his life. [i]Hold on, Elias,[/i] the boy shouted loudly, [i]I'm coming to join you![/i]

Gravity took hold of his body as the floor vanished beneath him, and Jerek was falling. He closed his eyes, his mind holding on to the image of his brother, his mouth moving, whispering over and over, "Almost there, Elias. Almost there." 

"Almost where?"

The pain in his head was agonizing, a sharp searing that threatened to split his head in two. Jerek's eyes watered as he opened them, and the world swam within his vision. Eventually, a clearer picture emerged through the watery haze, a figure standing over him, hand outstretched. The boy took it, placing his slender, fair-skinned hand in the larger one, a weathered palm scarred from age and battle alike. The darkened fingers wrapped around his own as Jerek felt himself being pulled up, hauled to his feet by the stranger. Wobbling, the youth leaned down on their connected hands as the world settled around his dizzy head. 

The stranger repeated the question, "Almost where?"

"Huh?" Jerek asked instinctively, peering around the stranger at the oddly misshapened, white-clad forms on the floor beyond him. He squinted, trying to figure out what they were. 

"You were saying, 'Almost there, Elias.'" the dark man elaborated, moving his head to block the boy's view. His eyes were gentle, staring with compassion through a hardened face. 

"Hees my brother," admitted the youth, his tongue moved slowly, making his words sound thick to his ears. "Waz," Jerek corrected himself, "waz my brother. He died yeers igo."

"I see," returned the stranger simply. "I know your pain more than most, but we cannot let feelings cloud our judgement right now." The man let out a breath, crouching to put his eyes at the same level as Jerek's. "Hold still," he said. 

The stranger placed his large hands around the boy's skull, eliciting a short cry from the teenaged padawan. Quickly, the youth felt a soothing sensation wash over him, dulling the pain in his head. He blinked quickly, shaking his head gently as the large man's hands receded. "What did you do?" Jerek inquired, looking on with a mix of admiration and curiosity. 

"You have a concussion," the man explained, "I helped relieve some of the pressure, but a proper healer still needs to look at it. Right now, though, we have more pressing matters to attend to." His faced took on a pained look. "I fear I may have caused it, and for that I apologize. It was a necessary measure in order to incapacitate your attackers."

It was then that the realization settled over Jerek. The white forms behind the stranger were the remains of the clone troopers, the ones who had pointed their weapons at the boy. If the older man had not intervened, Jerek would have surely been killed. "The clones," concluded the padawan, stating the fact instead of phrasing it as a question. "They're trying to kill us."

"I'm afraid so." Inclining his head, the stranger stood straight once more. He offered his palm to Jerek again, "My name is Beck."

"Jerek," the boy replied, placing his palm in the older man's for the second time that day. Suddenly, his head jerked back. "The lower cargo bays," Jerek blurted out, recalling the clue his master had provided him. "I think my master wants me to head there."

"Who is your master?" 

"Vor'loch," Jerek offered as Beck nodded in affirmation. 

Gesturing with his hand, Beck concluded simply, "Then to the lower cargo bays we shall go."

-to be continued-