Drabble #3

[matril]

Looks like this is the most likely time I'll be writing and posting these drabbles, during Emma's naptime and before Luke gets home from school. At least, Emma's supposed to be napping. Right now I can hear her singing and babbling to herself. *sigh* She's been speaking two-word utterances, which is absolutely wonderful and farther on the language development path than Luke has gone as of yet. I'm very excited. But adorable or not, she has to take her nap. She refused to yesterday, and the resulting crankiness was so very less than desirable...

Anyway -


Blame
------
Galactic politics had always been something of a mystery to Jar Jar. The Republic was different in every regard from how the bosses governed in Otoh Gunga. Somehow, all his years of service had done little to illuminate his understanding of the Senate's workings. Padmé usually did most of the talking and debating. Mostly, Jar Jar tried to make sure she remembered the needs of his people as well as hers.

There had been just one time that he made his voice heard, when he had spoken out in spite of all his ineloquence and the halls of the Senate had rung with applause. He had considered himself, in a very small way, a worthy servant of the Republic.

Now the Republic was in shambles, and it was probably his fault.

He was no skilled politician, but he knew enough to be frightened as he listened to the Chancellor's speech. Treasonous Jedi? An attempted overthrow? Surely not. There must have been some horrible mistake. And what madness was this, speaking of disbanding the Republic? Any simpleton had to realize that signified the end of freedom. Yet applause was ringing through the Senate chambers again, shouts of adoration and acclaim.

But if had had any doubts about the true meaning of Palpatine's words, all he had to do was look at the faces of the other Senators in his box, the ones whose opinions and regard he valued about all others. Bail Organa was sad and grim, shaking his head at the general sound of cheering. Padmé was white-faced, watching the Chancellor-turned-Emperor as if he had become a hideous stranger to her. From the look of his deformed features, he might as well be. Jar Jar shuddered.

What had he done?

They left the Senate chamber somberly as if they had been attending a funeral. Padmé and Bail were silent, absorbed in their separate thoughts. Jar Jar kept quiet as long as he was able, then finally burst out, "Mesa sorry. Mesa so sorry!"

They turned to him in subdued surprise. Haltingly he tried to articulate his guilt; the fear that his motion in the Senate just before the start of the War had been the very thing that enabled Palpatine to destroy the Republic. Understanding and pity came into their eyes.

"You may very well be right," Bail said frankly. "But there's no use putting all the blame upon yourself."

"He used all of us," Padmé pointed out in a low voice. "I helped him become Chancellor, you know." Her eyes were cast down; she appeared, somehow, to carry an unusually heavy burden beneath her spacious gown. "It seems Palpatine is very good at manipulating those close to him."

There was silence again for a moment, then Jar Jar wondered desperately, "What can wesa do?"

"There are ways..." Bail's voice trailed off as he glanced cautiously about the hall they were walking down. "We should talk somewhere else. In private."

"I'll join you later," Padmé murmured distractedly, her face creased with some other concern. She parted from them at the elevators to go back to her apartment.

A few days later, still mourning the death of the Republic, Jar Jar found himself mourning her death as well. And he hadn't even the miserable satisfaction of finding someone to blame for it.

Comments

[matril.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Well, this drabble is, after all, coming from the same person who wrote a novel-length fic about TPM from Jar Jar's point of view. ;) I'm quite fond of the hapless Gungan.