All the Colours of the Rainbow

Orange

The flaming orange sunset disappeared with her as she stepped below the last step, vanishing from my sight ... from my life.

Gone.

She was gone.

She was gone.

Why?

Why?

What had I done? What hadn't I done? Had I not been there for her, defended her, stood by her? Had I not been everything I could for her? Had I not given everything for her?

The lonely whisper of wind ruffled my hair, snaking between the massive pillars forming the walkway at my back. The orange sunset, formerly blazing across the clouded horizon like a great band of fire, was now gone, just like her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her jokes. Her attitude. Her kindness. Her generosity.

Her friendship.

Her kinship.

Gone.

Because she was gone. And she wasn't coming back.

Ever?

I had failed her. I had been unable to protect her from the doubt, mistrust, and judgment. I had failed my primary job as her master and teacher ... and friend.

And brother.

The forbidding of attachments was forgotten as I watched the shadows grow long over Coruscant, stretching over the steps she had walked, one last time. I didn't care what the Jedi Code said anymore. If I could, I would go back in time, two minutes or two years, to the time when I could see her and laugh with her and touch her. I would tell her in every language, in every way I knew how, what she meant to me, how amazing she was, how much I cared for her.

But she was gone.

So it didn't matter now. I was too late.

The stone was hard under my feet as my legs started to ache from staying in the same place. The wind had turned cold and bitter.

The sunset still lived in my mind's eyes, painted across the sky at the hand of a passionate artist, as I relived again and again her parting. Every word and expression. The different intonations to each of her phrases. The deep meaning behind her every secret.

"I'm sorry, Master, but I'm not coming back."

"Ahsoka, you are making a mistake!"

"Maybe. But I have to figure this out on my own. Without the Council ... and without you."

Was it something I had said? If I had fought harder to prove her innocence, if I had tried harder, would it have been enough?

The shadow of the Jedi Temple fell over me, like the yawning mouth of a dark cave. Night had come, but I wasn't ready to admit it yet. No, to me, it was still sunset, bright orange and ablaze with hope. She was still standing in front of me, a full head shorter than me, as always, her big, soulful eyes gazing up at me, as they always did, her head titled just slightly, like she always did when speaking her heart. She couldn't really be gone. The sour tang of pollution and silent howl of evening wind couldn't be real. The lonely darkness of the night sky, shrouded in cloudy garb, and the imposing, empty building behind me couldn't be reality. There had to be life. There had to be hope. There had to be colour.

There had to be orange. Like she was.

Like she is! I reminded myself. She wasn't dead — just not here. She was clever and brave and quick. She could handle herself better even than I could.