"The Center That Doesn't Hold"
The mission to Kelada having completed, Omega Squad was going through their routine psyche interviews. It is (to them) an annoying, but required protocol and it keeps them operational if they “do the right do, and say the right say”. What is different about this one is that Connel was required to attend one. Here he sat with the Mirialan Counselor, Lt. Commander Corth, and Jedi Healer Rehl.CORTH:
"Name, rank, and designation for the record, please."
Jedi Knight Connel Vanagor. Jedi Shadow , specialized assignment to Galactic Alliance 305th Special Forces Unit Code Name “Omega Squad” designation 17-Zeta. You already knew that.
CORTH: (flatly)
"It’s protocol. Just like this conversation."
REHL: (softly)
"Not all protocols are cages, Connel. Some are mirrors."
Just staring ahead, he said flatly. Mirrors show reflections. In mine, I only see ghosts.
CORTH:
"Then let’s talk about the most recent one. You hesitated on Kelada. Intel shows you froze for nine seconds watching those failed subjects in stasis."
Visibly annoyed, Connel’s jaw tightened. I respect you as a sailor, that is what your rank defines you as, correct. However, have you ever been in a situation as we were in? As we are in every time? With all due respect, there is a reason why Omega Squad gets those assignments… look… I do mean no disrespect but nine seconds is a long time to stare into hell and ask if you're the demon holding the key.
REHL: (gently)
"And what answer did you hear?"
I heard silence, alright? Silence, which meant I had to decide. I chose mercy.
CORTH:
"You killed them."
Laughing angrily, coldly. I spared them. They were screaming—without mouths, without minds. If you think they were still alive, you're mistaking motion for meaning.
REHL: (nods)
"The burden of judgment weighs heaviest when the gavel is your own heart. Did that choice cost you?"
Everything that makes me feel like a Jedi.
CORTH:
"That’s the problem. You are a Jedi. You’re not supposed to feel like an executioner, but your mission logs read like they’re written in blood."
When no one else walks into the dark… I do, not because I want to, but because I have to. That was the path laid before me when I became a Shadow, make the choices that no one should ever have to, for the good of all. I never asked for a sunlit temple life."
REHL:
"But the Shadow still needs light to remember what it protects. When did you last feel that light, Connel?"
(Silence.)
CORTH: (leans in)
"Is it your father’s voice you’re afraid of? Or your own?"
Now it was Connel’s turn to lean in, leaning in with a threatening stance, as if to say “This is about me, not him”. My father's voice told me to stand between the blade and the innocent. Not to become the blade itself.
REHL: (gently presses)
"And yet, you carry both. Do you see yourself as justice… or vengeance?"
Depends on the day.
REHL: (quietly, with a sad smile)
"The Force does not need martyrs, Connel. It needs those who endure. Not alone. Never alone."
CORTH: (after a beat)
"You’re cleared for field duty… but not for solitude. You want to help this galaxy? Start by healing the one inside you."
Standing slowly, his eyes distant and almost empty. Healing is for wounds. What I carry… is memory. And memory doesn’t heal. It teaches.
(He turned to leave. The room remains still. The silence now says something. He doesn’t storm out—he’s composed, resolute. But every movement is armor. Every step, a retreat behind the walls he’s built.)
REHL: (calmly, without raising her voice)
"Sit down, Knight Vanagor."
Stopping, pausing really, his eyes narrowed. Funny, I was under the impression that I was cleared.
CORTH: (sharp, pointed)
"You were. But that’s not why we’re still here."
REHL: (gently now)
"This isn’t about duty clearance. It’s about your soul."
(Connel exhales slowly, jaw tight, but sits back down—reluctantly. The tension in the room now shifts: no longer a formal interview, but an unmasking.)
CORTH:
"You talk like a man with purpose, Connel. Like you’ve accepted what you are. But your pulse, your hesitation, your words—tell another story."
REHL: (soft but firm)
"You carry death like a cloak. Not as a badge of honor… but as penance."
If he was not angry before, he clearly is now, even if controlled. I carry what others won't and what others can’t. Isn’t that the point of being a Shadow? On top of that, I was trained as a Guardian, by my Father, a man who practically rewrites the book on it. Now, tell me how you know I am doing that wrong?
CORTH: (coldly)
"You think you’re doing the galaxy a favor by burning yourself down for its sins? That’s not sacrifice. That’s self-destruction with a lightsaber and a justification."
REHL: (gently interjects)
"When did you start believing that your worth was measured by your suffering?"
Connel finally cracked slightly, his voice edged with rawness. You really want to know? Fine. The day I watched a Padawan crawl to me, her spine shattered, whispering 'I’m sorry, Master'—for dying too slow. The day I held civilians in my arms and couldn't tell if their skin was wet from blood or tears. The day I looked into the eyes of someone I spared… and saw a future Sith staring back. That’s when.
(A long silence follows. Neither Rehl nor Corth speak immediately. They let it hang.)
CORTH: (quietly, now without cynicism)
"You think justice means punishing yourself for every life you couldn’t save. But that’s not justice. That’s guilt wearing armor."
The Military… they have a saying “No man left behind.”
CORTH: (quietly, again without cynicism, but a defensive tone)
"You are not ‘military’..."
NOW Connel was ticked. ... and you are not a Jedi! You just sit here and judge us.
REHL: (stepping in quickly to step any more escalation with a whisper)
"You speak of duty. But where is your compassion for yourself?"
Connel finally calmed down, knowing he overstepped, even giving Corth a… somewhat… apologetic look. Then answered quietly, a storm beneath the surface)[/COLOR]
I lost that. Somewhere in the screams. Somewhere between 'Knight Vanagor' and what I used to be.
REHL: (leans forward, locking eyes with him)
"Then let us ask you—not as a Knight, not as a soldier—but as the child who watched his father walk into battle and return burdened by it: Do you believe you are still worthy of peace?"
Connel met her eyes, his voice barely audible.
I don’t know.
REHL:
"Then that is where we begin. Not in missions. Not in orders. But in reclaiming the truth that you—like anyone—deserve to be whole."
CORTH: (firm but no longer cold)
"And until you believe that, you’re not a weapon. You’re a liability. Not to the mission. To yourself."
REHL: (nods)
"We’re not done, Connel. Not by far. Next session is in two days."
Connel just sat there quiet for a long moment… then nodded once. I’ll be here.
“No Shadows in the Light”
(The room is silent except for the hum of meditation crystals faintly resonating. Everyone is seated in a circle. Connel is the last to speak.)REHL: (gentle)
"Connel, today isn’t about judgment. It’s about truth. And you're not alone anymore."
Connel quietly sat forward, his arms on his knees. He was done being defensive about two people who should not have to go through this being here. That’s the problem. I'm never alone. Not really. I hear the voices—the ones I couldn’t save. I see my father’s shadow every time I ignite my blade. And now... Michael." (glances at him) "He’s watching me, learning from me, even when I wish he wouldn’t.
Michael turned and said quietly. I’m here because I admire you. (beat) You don’t pretend to be perfect. You fight. You feel. You stand back up.
Caltin, in one of the rare times that he showed SERIOUS vulnerability, just looked on, and in a soft, gravel-voice. That’s the part he never learned to forgive himself for. Teaching you to fight and be a Jedi, but never how to truly live as one. (looking directly at Connel) He thinks every time he stands back up, he leaves someone else on the ground.
Connel snapped. It’s because I do. You trained me to be a shield, Father. But all I do is break things. Break missions. Break people. Myself.
REHL: (interjects calmly)
"You believe you're unworthy of what your name carries."
Connel just glared at her, then speaked in a low tone. I didn’t earn the name. I inherited it. There’s a difference.
Caltin just exhaled, and looked back steady, but with growing emotion. No, son, you inherited it when you were named. You earned it when you were born. Then? Then you forged it in your own stance. You did so, better than I ever could. Every step you took, every fight you survived, every time you chose to go on—that was you. Not me. Not your mother. You.
Connel just sat there, flabbergasted and responded in a tone barely above a whisper. Then why do I still feel like I’m falling short of both of you? If I’m so great, why can’t I even find Aunt Coci Heavenshield? … and don’t say it, I know that uncle Thurion Heavenshield said there’s nothing to forgive, and how he is thankful! That’s why I want to find her even moreso! That’s why I push the way I do, because you did, because you do… yet I fail at every turn in some way shape or form at the name I “forged”. Why do I feel like such a failure to the name without my mask on?
Michael then finally stepped in, voice trembling but sincere. It’s because you care, cousin, you care like crazy. And because you feel, not just like a Jedi, but like someone who has bonds forged that we can’t imagine. That’s why your dad needs you, your mom needs you, I need you. That’s why I want to learn from you, not just from Auntie Ala Quin, I want to learn from you—not just how to fight… but how to live with what comes after. Uncle Caltin has the reputation, and the knowledge, but you have lived with it in a way I understand better.
(Connel turns to him, stunned. The room is dead quiet.)
REHL: (to Connel)
"Michael doesn’t need you to be perfect. Neither does the galaxy. He needs to see how someone burdened by darkness can still choose the light—every day."
Caltin sat there aghast, but said firmly, in a voice heavy with history.
That’s what you think? You’re not a failure, Connel. You’re my son, and a noble Jedi. Being a Vanagor is just a Jedi having a surname and it doesn’t mean standing tall without wounds. It means standing with them, and still refusing to fall. You do that better than anyone I know, including me.
Now it was CONNEL’s turn to sit aghast, and in a voice cracking for the first time. I’ve spent so long thinking I had to be the weapon… that I forgot I was still a person. (looks at Michael) You don’t have to carry that curse. Not like I did.
Michael then said gently. Then teach me to carry it right.
You’re a person first, always have been.
REHL: (quietly) "That… is healing."
(Connel looks at his father. Caltin nods—not as a Master, not as a warrior—but as a father who finally sees his son.)
CORTH: (almost smiling, for once)
"Well. That’s more progress than I’ve seen in twenty sessions. Jedi might actually be good at something after all."
(Though it was most assuredly meant to be a bit of a joke, it drew a dirty look from the other four in the room.
Later. The chamber is empty now. Only father and son remain, sitting in silence. The Force hums quietly, but there’s no tension. Just stillness.)
Connel just sat there not looking at him. Was that what you wanted? Me finally cracking in front of them?
Caltin just sight softly. No. What I wanted… was to finally see you.
Connel got it, but this made him bitter. You trained me to be strong. To never break. To hold the line, no matter what. And I did. Over and over again. But every time I stood back up… I felt less like your son and more like your shadow.
Caltin just sat there quietly for a moment. Then I failed you. But it was never my intention. I only wanted to protect you, to make you strong enough to face the galaxy. I see now that I pushed you too far, and for that, I am truly sorry. I failed you, not as your “Master” but as your father.
(Connel’s head snaps toward him, surprised. Caltin was still calm, but with emotion brewing)
I taught you to carry the shield. But I never taught you how to lay it down. I was too afraid… that if you saw me put it down, you'd think less of me. I thought you were too much like me that it would come to you like it came to me. I was abandoned by my Masters… two of them… a lot of what I learned came on my own. It’s ridiculous. For all I can do, I still suck as a teacher and a parent.
Connel just looked at him in angry shock, not at him but in general, his voice raw. You were the strongest Jedi I’ve ever known. You are. You carried everything. You never—
Caltin cut him off gently, but firmly. —never showed you when I broke? That’s the mistake. You were too young to remember the nights I meditated with tears in my eyes… or the time I nearly let go of the Force just to feel nothing. You saw the statue. Not the man.
Connel just looked at him in a new light and whispered. I needed the statue.
Caltin nodded. I know, but what you deserved was the man who would’ve told you… it’s okay to hurt. To grieve. To fall. And still be a Jedi. You deserved the man to tell you that you CAN AND WILL have and experience emotions, regardless of what the code says, but teach you how to not let them define you. Teach you how to be you, and not just a little “me”. To still grow into your own skin in your own way. Still be the man, the Jedi you are.
(Connel turns away again, struggling—but the walls are thinner now.)
Caltin then lightly clapped his shoulder. Do you know the best day of my life? The worst? Connel just shook his head, almost afraid to ask. The best day of my life was the day I saw your face for the first time, the day you were born.
He sighed. The worst? It wasn’t the Purge. It wasn’t losing comrades or friends. It wasn’t even the wars. It was the day that I saw your face for the first time in that Bacta tank and knew what I wanted to do, but knew that there was no way that I could. He sighed. Yeah, it was difficult watching you walk away the day you chose the Shadow path… and knowing I couldn't follow. Not because I disapproved—but because I didn’t truly know how to be there if that path would break you. It was difficult knowing you would never let me help carry it. It was you walking that path because of what happened to you on Vendaxa and me unable to bring that monster to justice… you walked that path and you became the man I see before me. A man I admire more than I could explain, not because he is my son, but because, even through all you have been through, Connel… you are the strongest man, and Jedi I know.
(A long silence. Finally, Connel sppke—quiet, trembling, but unfiltered.)
I didn’t want to disappoint you. I thought… if I broke, if I hesitated, if I failed… I’d lose the only thing I had left.
Caltin moved closer, his voice steady but full of warmth. You were never my legacy because of what you did. You were my legacy because of who you are.
Slowly placing a hand on Connel’s shoulder—heavy, calloused, but comforting. You never had to be me, son. I already had that covered. All I ever wanted was for you to be you—and survive doing it, and you have done that better than I could have ever hoped/
(For the first time in years, Connel lets out a breath… not as a warrior, not as a Jedi… but as a son.)
“Flight Path”
(Aboard a Jedi courier-class vessel, streaking through hyperspace. The cockpit is calm—lights dim, stars streaking past the forward viewport in long lines of blue and white. Michael sits in the co-pilot’s chair, legs pulled up slightly. Connel pilots with a calm, steady hand—his silence is no longer heavy… just thoughtful.)Michael, after a while, just said plainly. You know… I thought you'd be colder. (half-smiles) You have that look. All brooding and quiet like you carry the whole war inside you.
Connel just softly chuckled. I probably do. But I’m learning not to let it be the only thing I carry. (glances sideways) You’ve got a good sense for people. Even when you’re pretending you don’t.
Michael just shrugged at the thought. I see you. Not the Jedi. Not the mask. Just you. I guess… I needed to know if you were real.
Connel just leaned back slightly, with a gaze far-off. So did I. (beat) For a long time, I thought being a Jedi meant losing the person underneath the armor. The robes. The code.
But you didn’t lose him. (glances at him) Did you?
Connel thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. No. He got buried. Under missions. Orders. Expectations. Fear. But… I think I’m starting to dig him out.
Michael sat in that silence for a moment before quietly speaking. I still see Dad. Sometimes. Right before I sleep. His voice, I mean. He never got to say goodbye. So I imagine what he’d tell me. Usually it’s something like ‘Get some rest, Cadet’ or ‘You did well today, Mike.’ Simple stuff. But it matters.
Connel just said softly. Your father was a good man. Strong. Loyal. Brave. He’d be proud of who you are—and who you're choosing to become.
Michael, shocked at this just sat there quiet.You think I can do it? Live between two worlds? Be a Jedi... without giving up the Angellus in me?
Connel smiled faintly. You don’t have to live between them. You forge something new from both. That’s your gift. You don’t have to carry my pain, you don’t have to carry your father’s or your uncle’s reputation. You just have to remember why you’re walking forward. That’s the difference.
Michael nodded slowly, then asks with a smirk. You ever fly without the stick shoved that far up your back?
Connel grinned sardonically. Watch it, cadet, or I’ll make you fly the rest of the way home with only thruster control.
(Michael laughs, and for a moment, the pain doesn’t weigh so heavily. Connel lets himself smile too—not because the galaxy is fixed, but because it can be lived in. And that, maybe, is enough for today.)
Hey… thanks. Not for flying me home. For being here. For being you.
Connel while gazing out at the stars. I'm just starting to figure out who that is. But I’m glad you’re part of the answer.
“You Always Had a Choice”
(The ship lands softly in a quiet clearing just outside the Angellus estate on Naboo—lush grass, domed architecture, and the sound of fountains in the distance. Michael steps out first. Connel lingers in the cockpit, giving him the moment.)(Waiting at the edge of the landing platform is Alyksandra Angellus—dignified, graceful, and quietly strong. She rushes forward the moment she sees him, not with ceremony but with open arms.)
ALYKSANDRA: (pulls him into a tight embrace)
"Stars, Michael. You look taller. And thinner. Have you been eating enough?"
Michael was muffled against her shoulder. I’ve been fine, Mom. I promise.
ALYKSANDRA: (pulling back just enough to study his face)
*"You look… different." (softly) "Older. Like your father did after his first deployment. Eyes that saw too much but refused to look away."
Michael nodding quietly. I think I understand him better now, and you.
ALYKSANDRA: (smiles faintly, but there’s a tremble in her voice)
"I’m proud of you, you know. Truly. But it’s a mother’s curse to dream of peace while watching her child march toward war."
Michael just said gently. You always told me I could choose.
ALYKSANDRA: (firmly)
"You still can. That’s why I’m proud—not because you joined them, but because you chose it. With your eyes open. That means more to me than any rank or robe ever could."
(She cupped his cheek for a moment, then pulled him back into a quiet hug. Over her shoulder, Michael saw Connel standing at the edge of the ramp, watching from afar. Connel offered a small nod. Michael returned a nod.
ALYKSANDRA: (murmurs as she holds him)
"You don’t have to save the galaxy, my son. Just don’t lose yourself trying."
"Darkness at a Distance"
(Later that night. Connel sits alone in his assigned quarters, a datapad before him. He’s just finished a meditation session—still not easy, but less haunted. The room is silent. Until the datapad flickers and a secure-coded holomessage appears—no traceable source. Just a slow pulse. Connel narrows his eyes, activates it. A shrouded figure materializes in shimmering blue light: Darth Illicitus.)ILLICITUS (HOLO): (smooth, venomous)
"You’ve been busy, Vanagor. Digging into your scars. Telling yourself they make you stronger."
(Connel doesn’t respond—just watches.)
ILLICITUS:
"But we both know what they really are: tethers. Chains. You call it duty. I call it delusion. That boy you’re protecting? The one carrying a name like it’s a banner? He’ll break. And you’ll blame yourself when he does."
(The image flickers slightly—static distorting the face briefly, but not the voice.)
ILLICITUS: (almost amused)
"Your father once said, ‘Always do the right thing.’ But what if the ‘right thing’ is tearing the rot out by its roots? What if the Order deserves to fall again—because it never learned?"
(Connel clenches a fist, jaw tightening.)
ILLICITUS: (leans in)
"I’ll see you again soon, Vanagor. You’ll try to stop me. You’ll fail. And the galaxy will watch you bleed… and call it justice."
(The message ends. No trace. No signal. Just silence.)
(Connel stared at the pad, unmoving. Then, after a long beat, he whispered—)
You’re wrong. I don’t bleed for the galaxy anymore. I bleed with it. And that’s why when next we meet, you will just bleed. I’ll stop you. I will end you.
