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She shouldn’t be doing this. She doesn’t want it, not again. She left her lightsaber behind, and never doubted, in all the years since, that she had made the right choice. And yet…And yet what? What compelled her to sit here, to meditate with these components? Bao-dur’s words ring through her, echoing a truth she does not wish to admit.
You aren’t complete without a lightsaber.
She had argued, of course, but he hadn’t listened. Typical. She sits in her room with the pieces of metal collected before her, gleaming crystal brightest among even the polished components. She closes her eyes and touches them with her mind, feeling all the curves and edges and points.
As she breathes in, she remembers what it felt like to wield a lightsaber. To feel the Force in her hands like a breathing, coiling vein. It is wondrous, that power. That strength. That...security. For years she has been on edge. She spent so many years relying on that old saber for protection, even before the war. Without it…
Perhaps Bao-dur is correct.
But something is missing. Something is wrong. She is not a Jedi, never will be again. She does not desire a Jedi weapon. Her hand goes to her hip, pulls her blaster from its home. Her fingertips trace along it, mapping out its body. There are no surprises here. Half the weapon’s parts were hand crafted and maintained…
Inspiration strikes her, and her hands spring to new life. In moments, the lines between lightsaber component and blaster parts begins to blur. It is a unique thing she envisions, much like herself. And as she idealizes it, she closes her hand around it.
She opens her eyes, looks down at the weapon she has created. It is a blaster pistol, albeit with a barrel that is a bit larger than most. Enough to look custom, but not enough to reveal its true purpose. With a flick of her wrist, the barrel unfolds and manifests a burning gold blade of light.
A lightsaber and a blaster in one, just as she is both Jedi and...not. It thrums in her hands, and she can feel the light of its crystal in her heart. The Force lingers near the edge of her perception like tides lapping at her feet. She knows she is scared, and she knows that she should be.
Bao-dur is wrong; the weapon does not complete her. But it’s a step.