The Clone Wars One Shots

Memory

You didn't know much about your past life.

It was all lost to you, and you were lost to it.

The only information you had about who you once were was a number:

3459

Four digits. Every face, every name, every place had been lost to you, yet four digits remained. Four. Stinking. Digits.

What kind of shit logic was that?

You had no idea what the number meant, nor why it was so important, but it always remained on your mind. What could it be? Part of a comm channel? A room number? Coordinates? You couldn't be sure. You could never figure it out, though it wasn't from a lack of trying.

It was frustrating, living without truly knowing who you were. You had made new memories since losing yourself, but they couldn't replace what you were lacking. Everything you knew about your past self, others had told you, and that wasn't much.

Then there was the nightmares.

Vivid yet somehow dull dreams of explosions, fire, multicolor lights dancing through the air, blood curdling screams, the sound of thousands marching in sync, people whose faces were lost to you, and voices that you recognized but could never remember calling out to you for help. They were horrifying, yet relayed so little information. They felt so real, but how could they be, when you couldn't remember a single detail about them?

Your first memory was of a middle aged woman named Amalie Malorée. You woke up in her house on the outskirts of Hanna City, dizzy and delirious. How you had reached Chandrila, you didn't know, and you panicked upon seeing your strange surroundings.

Once she had calmed you, Amalie explained what she knew. She had taken you in after she found you alone in the wreckage of a downed ship outside of town. You had been completely alone in the wreckage, and she hadn't been able to find any information about where you came from. She nursed you back to health, named you, cared for you, and kept you safe from the war.

Though you loved Amalie like a mother and were forever grateful for her, your couldn't help but let your mind wander, wondering who you truly were and where you came from. Was anyone looking for you? Did you have a family? Friends? Anyone who looked up to you? Or was it perhaps better that you didn't remember? Maybe you had wanted to forget, and your wish came true. You had no way of knowing. All you could do was hope, and let your imagination fill in the gaps.

You often visited the crash sight where you had been found, scoured the wreckage for something, anything, to give you a clue as to who you were and where you came from. The ship you had came to Chandrila on was barely recognizable after the crash, but a select few parts of it resembled a V-19 Torrent Starfighter. How you knew that, you had no idea. You knew very little about space travel.

Life on Chandrila wasn't at all bad, but it just didn't feel right. You lived with Amalie and her wife, Melina, in Hanna City. You worked at a mechanic shop that had once belonged to Amalie, before she retired a few months after your arrival.

Despite having no memory of your past, you held on to many skills you had no doubt acquired during one of the blank spaces in your memory, including impressive skill with machinery. You were strong, smart, and it seemed that you could fix just about anything. You had a knack for repairing ships and weaponry: a skill that was in high demand during wartimes.

Though Amalie and Melina tried their hardest to keep you protected from the hardships of war, you found yourself dragged into battle when a strange group appeared in town.

While you were headed home from a long shift, more than ready to go home, you spotted the strangers marching through the streets in a V formation. There were seven of them, all clad in white and grey armor. Civilians steered clear of them, occasionally casting wary glances at the armed and armored figures, but nobody questioned them.