White-sheathed troopers plagued the corridors of the Temple, leaving the floors littered with unmoving forms of trooper and Jedi alike. As the pair ventured forth beyond the main level of the Jedi's sanctum, the bodies of their fellow brothers and sisters became a more common sight. Jerek had staggered the first time they had come across one, a Jedi in his middle years, pockmarked with several, smoking holes. The Knight's lightsaber had still been clutched in his hand, cold fingers wrapped tightly around the object that had failed to save his life. 

Now, the pair moved quickly, passing more bodies than Jerek could count. From time to time, Beck stopped them, sensing clones blocking their way. He did his best to maneuver the pair around them, avoiding a firefight if at all possible. For a time, the strategy worked, but it was inevitable that the duo would have to fight at some point. 

That point came when Beck stopped Jerek too late, having already planted a foot down the hallway occupied by a mass of white armored bodies. The mechanical click of the trooper's headset could be heard as one of the clones alerted the rest to the Jedi's presence. Beck pulled the boy back, hauling him out of the corridor's intersection, letting the troopers make the first move around the blind corner. 

Jerek's breathing was still labored, but he forced himself to slow it, letting his mind open in a well-practice manner. It drifted to the place where he found knowledge, peace, and new hope. The boy breathed it in, taking in the world around him as if for the first time. The heavy clatter of boots was growing louder, shadows growing in the hallway before him. Planting his feet how he was taught, the youth grasped his lightsaber in his right hand, drawing it back as he set his left forward in a well-practiced stance. With a flick, the green blade of his sword leaped into being, humming eagerly as the boy waited. 

A second passed. The boy glanced to his side, eyeing the downward-cast blade that Beck held, brightly colored with vibrant, yellow light. The darker-skinned man gave the boy an almost imperceptable nod, and Jerek flicked his eyes back to the hallway. The troopers were emerging from the crossway, the first wave crouching as they aimed at the Jedi pair. 

Blue bolts of deadly fire emerged from the ends of their blaster rifles, sending Jerek into action. His blade moved without a thought, whirling, and the bolts flew harmlessly away into the walls and ceiling. The boy paid for the effort with a sharp pain in his lungs, gasping as he moved to avoid another round of blaster fire. By then, Beck was on the attack, moving through the wall of Clones. His yellow blade sliced through their white and blue armor, effortlessly carving a pair of troopers like a stuffed, holiday bird. 

Distracted by Beck's advance, Jerek launched himself at the nearest Clone, the last one still crouched to allow those behind him to fire unhindered. The boy's teeth ground together as he swiped at the trooper's face, hearing a growl emerge from his mouth. The Clone reacted by leaning back, knocking his head against Beck's swinging elbow. Propelled by the force of the collision, the soldier's face fell cleanly onto Jerek's blade, separating itself from the body it once owned. Smoking, pink flesh was exposed as the trooper's helmet fell away, leaving the lifeless body to cascade forward. The youth jumped back as he felt the troopers body collide against his own, a squish eliciting from the body parts yielding to an obstacle. 

The boy stared at the results of his handiwork, a death wrought at his own hands. His knees felt weak as his head reeled, its earlier dizziness returning with a vengeance. Jerek's stomach churned and he tasted bile in his mouth. A hand appeared on his shoulder, the large, strong palm cupped his shoulder and held him steady. Though reassured by Beck's gesture, Jerek couldn't help himself from leaning over and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. 

Jerek remained bent over until he felt the last of his sickness fading away. The bitter taste still remained within his mouth, and around the edges. He brought a sleeve up to his face to wipe it away, but a hand was already there, holding up a cloth instead. The boy uttered a word of thanks as he took the cloth, using it to remove the evidence of his brief weakness. He took the hand once more as he stood, grateful that Beck's compassion was reserved for him rather than for the troopers. Jerek put a hand to his mouth as he gazed over the dismembered remains of the Republic's finest, relieved that his lunch was already proudly marking the floor before him. 

The Jedi pair staggered as the floor beneath them rocked. A series of explosions could be heard, the sound muffled by layers of walls and floors, but the destruction was no less real. Dust rained down from the ceiling as large pieces of the Temple's infrastructure cracked and freed itself from its mounts. The concrete hail studded the floors of the corridor, embedding themselves like icicles in the snow. One such chunk of ceiling attempted to splatter the pair of soft creatures beneath it, but Beck caught the debris with the Force and threw it clear, leaving the duo unscathed.

"Come," the older Jedi beckoned, his hand gesturing onward. "We must keep moving." 

And that's exactly what they did.

-to be continued-