Disclaimer: I thought it would be obviouse by now that I don't
own them.
Notes: For the purpose of the story, I took a couple of
liberties with the SW universe: One, it is suggested that there
can be more than one Sith apprentice. Two, I made the light
saber colors more of a representation of the Force within the
bearer than the color of the crystal used. And Three... Qui-Gon
didn't die, obviously. :) This series is a re-writing of the
Clone Wars and preceeding events, and it will eventually end
with the regular events as seen in Star Wars. Many thanks to my
Master Alia and Megan for Force-guided beta-ing, and to Tamara
Lehman (or, rather, Master Shan-Doe ;) for asking about my
progress. Thanks. :)
Summary: Obi-Wan tries to save Qui-Gon with the help of a
strange new ally, but what can he do if his former Master
doesn't want to be saved? Sequel to Fade to Black, an
Evil!Qui-Gon series.
Warnings: m/m, angst
"This is most unfortunate." Mace Windu laced his long fingers
together, his dark face serious as he surveyed each member of
the council gravely. Each humanoid looked back at him with
varying degrees of strained serenity as he continued. "Qui-Gon
Jinn had been in the order for many years, and he has become
very strong in the Force. To lose him to the Dark Side is
catastrophic."
"But surely something can be done," Adi Gallia interrupted, her
voice a reedy whisper.
"What can we do?" Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "We cannot track him until
he makes himself known, and by that time, it will be too late."
"But surely..."
"And even then, do we know what we will do with him should we
be able to bring him back to us? How can we decipher how far
his soul has wandered? Would it not be more prudent to try to
eradicate the cause?"
"You are not, of course, suggesting that we injure him."
Gallia's voice was lofty and serene, but carried an
undercurrent of dread. Ki-Adi-Mundi was silent for a moment,
faltering slightly, and Windu raised a dark brow, his features
taut.
"Well?"
"No," he finally stated, shaking his head slowly. "No, that was
not what I was suggesting; however, we cannot allow him to use
the Force."
"Again, what can we do?" The members of the council were
silent. "We can't very well just accept this." Yoda, quiet up
until this point, shook his head slowly, gathering their
attention. "Accept this, we may not. Do anything to change it?
We cannot."
"Master Yoda, he was your student!" Adi cried. "Surely you're
not suggesting that we do nothing?"
Yoda fixed the woman with his penetrating gaze. "Do nothing, I
did not say. Only that we must let it be. Ours to
control, it is not."
Pandemonium broke out at his words, each member of the Council
briefly forgetting him or herself in their shock. Commandingly,
Mace held up a hand, and the room went silent at once. "You
have had a vision?" he asked, turning to look at the diminutive
Jedi Master. "The Force has shown us our path?"
The long ears drooped as the ancient Master stared before him,
his shoulders hunched. "Many paths I see, many possible
futures. Any may come to pass-- not all to be desired."
"Then, how..?"
What I do see, certain it is. It is not for us to decide the
fates." Yoda's lips pursed as a look of grave sadness washed
over his wizened features. "With young Kenobi, the power is. It
is he who must walk the path."
"I see." Mace steepled his fingers, his face serene, but the
look in>his dark eyes belied his certainty. Anxiety wavered
in those dark depths. "And what is left for us?"
"We wait."
"I await your command, Master." Qui-Gon stood at attention
before the dark form of the Sith Lord, his eyes fixed on a
point above the other man's shoulder. Tension warred throughout
his body, causing the Force within him to thrum and crackle.
Palpatine leaned back in his throne-like chair, his gaze
resting thoughtfully on his new apprentice. Time had not yet
told him whether or not Qui-Gon had the strength necessary to
do what must be done, and Palpatine was wary of beginning too
early lest his careful work at breaking the former Jedi Master
be wasted.
Qui-Gon shifted at the silence, his blue gaze locking with
Palpatine's. Yes, the Sith Lord whispered to himself.
That is right-- feel the hatred and impatience wash through
you. Feel yourself itching to pass through this final barrier
and come to your dark birthrite.
"Master?" Qui-Gon's tone was touched with impatience, but he
held himself in firm check, not wanting to displease the Sith
Lord-- he knew well the price for that sin.
Finally, Palpatine spoke, his voice ringing out throughout the
cavernous room. "You will remain as you are for the present. It
is not yet time to send you out to do my work."
"When?"
The former Senator's brow's lowered in warning, and Qui-Gon
hastily bent his head in deference, his lips tightening with
displeasure. "I apologize, Master. I forgot myself."
Palpatine stood, his long robe gathering about his tall frame
imperiously. "See that it does not happen again." The sharp
click of his bootheels on the dark marble floor cued his exit,
but Qui-Gon Jinn did not lift his head for several long
minutes, his frame taunt with strain. Anger boiled throughout
him, chasing his blood and welling up within his heart. The
black-hearted bastard...
//It would seem that the Master was right-- he has broken
himself a Jedi for his very own.// Qui-Gon's head jerked up,
his body whirling to face the speaker, but no-one was there.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded of the empty air, his
eyes blazing. He was not broken-- he was merely waiting for a
time when he could have his vengeance, that was all. That was
all! //Discover that for yourself, Qui-Gon Jinn.// The voice
was amorphous and detached, as if it sprung from the walls, the
floor, the very Force itself. //Discover where your true
loyalties lie.//
"I know damn well where they lie!" he snapped, his hands
tightening into fits in fury. "They lie with me! I am my own
man."
//Oh, are you?// Amusement colored the tone. //Somehow, I was
under the impression that you belonged to someone else
entirely.//
Qui-Gon's body quivered with his anger, but his voice was calm
and very cold. "I do not belong to Palpatine."
The laughter was light and breezy, coocooning him with
irrepressible mirth. //Why, Qui-Gon,// she, for it most
certainly was a she, replied, her voice wry and almost
affectionate. //I wasn't talking about Palpatine.//
Obi-Wan stood motionless, his eyes downcast in a reverence and
respect that he did not feel. His young charge stood at his
side, curious gaze roving the Council-chamber as he shifted in
the uncomfortable silence. The Jedi Masters sat in their ringed
chairs, their faces almost frozen into an impassive mask of
serenity. They all look the same, Anakin marveled to
himself, when they make their faces like that. It's like
they're carved of stone and there's nothing else left inside of
them. He glanced up at his own Master, noting the forced
relaxation that graced Obi-Wan's face. At least he
didn't pretend as if this meant nothing to him.
"We understand your concern, Kenobi," Mace Windu spoke, his
deep voice thrumming from within his chest. "And we share it
equally. However, the fact remains that there is nothing that
we can do, at least not until he chooses to make his first
move."
"But you don't understand!" Obi-Wan could barely keep his tone
in check, the words wanting to bubble and spill out of him with
impulsive fervor. "We can't wait until then! It'll be
too late. Whoever has done this to Master Jinn is not going to
sit idly by and leave him be! Qui-Gon's in danger."
"You presume too much, Knight Kenobi." Windu's words were not
harsh or particularly threatening, but Obi-Wan halted his rant
immediately, swallowing his words before they could pass his
lips. He could not alienate the Council of Masters, not when so
much was at stake. Not while Qui-Gon...
"I apologize. Please forgive my indiscretion."
"However, the question still remains on whether or not we may
safely bring Qui-Gon back to the complex." Obi-Wan bit his
tongue sharply to keep himself from replying, his heart
freezing at the words. Not bring him back to the complex? Then
what would they do with him? "His soul may have given in
too far to the Dark side to ever be reclaimed."
"No!" Obi-Wan's voice was tight and furiouse, and his words
were clipped in his furious disbelief. "We can not give up on
him. We must not. The Light alone knows what they have done to
him there, what they are doing to him now!"
Windu gave him a leveling glance, his voice firm. "Or, perhaps,
what he has done to others."
"You can't believe that." Obi-Wan gestured helplessly, his eyes
beseeching and commanding by turns. "Qui-Gon would not harm
anyone, anyone, out of his own free will! It is not
inside of him."
"The reports that we have heard..."
"The reports that we have heard cannot be the truth! My Master
would not do those things. They are lies!"
"Knight Kenobi, control yourself you must."
Obi-Wan whirled to face the ancient Master, his eyes wild with
pain and fury. "Don't tell me to control myself! I cannot, not
while Qui-Gon is out there, not while..." He gasped and went
silent, his golden-tan hands reaching up to touch his suddenly
uncooperative throat.
Yoda looked at him sadly, knowing full well what Obi-Wan was
feeling, and realizing also that soon the young man, still
relatively untrained in the Living Force and rash beyond
acceptance would lose any semblance of control over himself.
"Skywalker, best if you leave, it would be. Leave us alone to
speak, you must."
The young boy's eyes narrowed, but he nodded and left the room,
his shoulders taut. Yoda sighed at the untrained emotions he
felt radiating off of the boy, the uneasy feeling of imminent
danger washing over him once again. The end of us all, he
will be.
"Come with me, Obi-Wan," he spoke, sliding off of his chair
slowly, his wooden cane supporting him almost as much as the
Force. The young man stared at him, eyes glistening with a
layer of unshed tears and anger, and Yoda nodded reassuringly
as he hobbled out of the room, assured that he would be
followed.
He made his way alone for a few moments before Obi-Wan hurried
to catch up with him, his blue eyes fixed on the small green
Jedi. "Master Yoda, where are we..?"
"Rash, you are," Yoda cut in, his wizened face tightening.
"Hurt yourself in the end, you will."
Obi-Wan ducked his head in shame, a blush suffusing his
features. "Yes, Master Yoda, but..."
Yoda stopped and faced the young man, his voice stern. "No. Do
not speak. Listen, you must." Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to
speak, but shut it again at the warning look he received from
the smaller Jedi. "The Council, save Qui-Gon, we cannot. Not
for us is it."
"But, Qui-Gon..!"
"Will not listen to me. Will not listen to Mace Windu. Will not
even listen to the Force within him. Only one may reach Qui-Gon
Jinn where he has gone now."
"Who?" Obi-Wan dropped to his knees before the wise old man,
his face desperate and pleading. "No matter what it takes, no
matter how hard it will be, I'll find them!"
Yoda shook his head sadly, his ears twitching. "Listening to me
you are not. Hear me, you must."
"I'm listening, Master Yoda! Please, please tell me! I'll...
I'll..." Suddenly his words faltered, and Obi-Wan straightened
slightly from where he had been kneeling to look into the old
face, a dawning look of comprehension washing over his face.
"Are you saying..."
"Smart you are, when you stop speaking and think." Yoda poked
the young Jedi sharply in the chest with his staff, causing the
other man to wince. "The Council has no power over Qui-Gon. It
is you he loves."
The sudden wash of shocked comprehension that filled Obi-Wan's
face was almost humorous. "See it finally, you do. Meant for
each other, you are. Only you can bring him back from the Dark
Side." Yoda stared into the young face for a long moment more,
just to be sure that the thick-skulled Jedi understood. The
blue eyes were bright with comprehension and a shining emotion
that could only be love, and the blond head nodded in
determination as full lips pressed together. Yes, he
understood.
"No more fighting the Council you will do," Yoda warned, his
voice serious. "Waver in faith, you must not. Not only your
soul rests in this." Obi-Wan's brows drew together in
confusion, but Yoda had already begun to waddle away.
"Please, Master, what do you mean?"
Yoda stopped, and he did not turn, yet his words lit like a
blazon across Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind. "Your ways are brash and
disrespectful, but had a good Master to teach you right, you
did. Know that you do not mean what you say you do. Another who
does not know this there is, and he has no Master who teaches
him restraint." Anakin... "Training him by example you are."
Then, stiffly, the old Master continued on his way, leaving
Obi-Wan kneeling on the hall floor, his mind awash with
revelations.
He loves me. Qui-Gon loves me. I will save him, I swear.
And:
Anakin. Trained by my example, with no-one to teach him
restraint. Oh, Light, what have I done?
Who am I? Qui-Gon pondered as he sat in the silence of
his quarters, his legs drawn up into a lotus position. Am I
a Jedi Master? Am I a Sith Apprentice? Am I just a man? Who
am I? The answer didn't seem to be forthcoming, no matter how
hard he sought it. No matter how long he meditated, or, rather,
tried to. It was nearly impossible to reach the calm center he
needed anymore.
I never thought that this was possible. I never thought that
my heart could change so much that I'd be able to kill.
He shook his head ruefully. There was a lot of things that he
had discovered that he could do when he must. The first death
had been hard, given. It had been as if a piece of himself had
died along with the shuddering male, and as he had sliced his
light saber away from the rapidly cooling form, he had felt a
darkness seep into his heart.
But Palpatine had been watching him, his dark eyes weighing and
his face unreadable, and Qui-Gon had shoved aside the pain that
he had felt, knowing that he must not let his Master see. If
Palpatine should think that Qui-Gon could not be trusted, then
he would never be given the chance that he needed to bring him
down...
The rest of the blood that flowed after that moment had been
frighteningly easy.
"Maybe I have become a monster," he whispered to himself, his
shadowed face haggard. "Maybe I have sold my soul."
//One hell of a price you paid, too.// Qui-Gon didn't bother to
search for the body behind the voice anymore-- there was no
point to it. Whoever it was that spoke to him in these
unguarded moments was beyond his ability to discover. And,
besides, a growing part of him did not want to find out who
belonged to the snarky comments in the fear that she would be
chased away. Sometimes he thought that she was the only thing
left that kept him sane and human.
"Now that is relative," he responded, a minuscule smile curving
his lips. It wasn't much, but speaking with the... whatever it
was made him feel more like Qui-Gon than he had in a long time.
"Some may find the price a pittance."
//Forfeiting you soul a pittance? Jedi, I suggest you find me
such a >man and I'll spit on his piss-filled brains.//
"Don't call me that," Qui-Gon snapped, drawing his robes
tighter about him.
//Don't call you what?// She knew what he was speaking of, of
course, but she always made him say the words anyways.
"Jedi."
//But that's what you are, Jinn.// she always replied. //A
Jedi. You can't teach an old Wookiee new tricks.//
"Whatever you say, Samadhi."
In the beginning, she had insisted that she had no name, but
after time had passed and she had finally grasped the concept
that he could not think of her without a title, she had given
him this word.
"Samadhi," he had tested the word out on his tongue. "What does
it mean? What are you?"
Her answer had been cryptic. //As a crystal of salt thrown into
water dissolves in water and becomes one with water so the
state in which unity in 'I' consciousness and supreme
consciousness is achieved is called Samadhi.//
"Is that what you are? Supreme consciousness?"
She had never answered him.
"Leave me now," Qui-Gon said, coming out of his remembrances.
"I wish to be alone."
//Oh, Mr. snooty Jedi doesn't want to be bothered by Samadhi?//
Light, but sometimes she could be as annoying as Master Yoda.
Qui-Gon sighed, giving up on the idea of meditation. "Look,
I..." He cut off suddenly when the sound of a disturbance
reached his ears. Jumping to his feet, Qui-Gon moved to his
window and peered out, searching for the source of the noise.
In the courtyard, a brown-robed man struggled desperately
against Palpatine's guard, Force cackling about him like a
beacon, green saber whirring in a blinding flash.
Qui-Gon felt something flash through him, something vital,
lighting up his nerve endings with a wash of electricity. He
took an eager step forward, his hand reaching for his own
saber, but then he faltered and stopped, his hand falling away
helplessly. He would not be welcomed within this fight.
Then he did pull out his light saber, letting it fill with the
force so that it burst into energy. The original color had been
washed away, tainted by an innocent's blood until it swelled an
ugly, angry red. No, the Jedi would not welcome his help.
//What are you doing?// Samadhi hissed desperately. //Help him!
Qui-Gon, what are you waiting for? He's going to die.//
Qui-Gon shook his head sadly, his eyes narrowing as he slashed
his saber through the air, the red energy humming. "Maybe
that's for the best."
She was silent for a long moment, and Qui-Gon began to fear
that she would not answer. Finally, though, she spoke, and her
voice chilled him in a way that Palpatine had never been able
to do.
//You were right. You are no Jedi.// Her words were soft and
filled with betrayal. //You're not even a man.// And then she
was silent.
Qui-Gon hung his head in shame.
Obi-Wan shook his head when he finally heard the door to his
and Anakin's shared quarters. "I was wondering when you'd
finally decide to attend your practice session," he said as he
stood. "You should..." His words dried suddenly when he caught
his first glimpse of his young Padawan.
Anakin planted his feet a shoulders width apart, his gaze
challenging. "I fell down," he snapped before Obi-Wan got a
chance to ask what had happened to him. "Okay?"
"No, it's not okay." Obi-Wan motioned for the boy to follow him
as he headed towards the small first aid kit that he kept
within a drawer. Anakin stood his ground stubbornly for a long
moment, his bruised face set in a stubborn scowl, but then his
entire body loosed it's tension and he padded up to his Master,
his face lifted to receive the ointments.Obi-Wan squatted down
and began to brush away the smears of blood, assessing the
damage done. "Especially not when the floor leaves nail-marks."
Anakin hung his head, dejected, as his Master smoothed his hair
back to get a better look at a cut on his forehead. "You want
to tell me what happened?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes
intense.
"No." Obi-Wan raised a brow at his Apprentice's challenging
words, and Anakin sighed in defeat. "Oh, all right. I got into
a fight with a couple of the other Padawans."
"A couple of the other Padawan's?" Obi-Wan could
not conceal the surprise in his tone-- from what he knew,
something like this had never happened before. "You got into a
fight with other Padawans?"
"They deserved it!" Anakin spat, his fists clenching as if he
would attack his own Master. "So they had it coming to them."
"Ah." Obi-Wan finished his ministrations, grateful that his
young charge had not accumulated too many injuries. However, he
was beginning to wonder how the others had fared-- he had never
seen Anakin so furious. "And what did they do?"
The words burst from the boy as if he could no longer keep them
inside of him. "They said that Qui-Gon was a traitor and a
killer, and that it would be best if he never returned at all!"
Obi-Wan was taken aback, both by the words and by the vehemence
of his Apprentice. He loves him too, Obi-Wan, he
reminded himself. You should never forget that. He tried to
show his apprentice an understanding face, but the waves of
anger and grief that cascaded through him forced him to stiffen
his features so as not to betray himself.
It would have been best had he let his Padawan see his pain.
"They should have never said such things, Anakin," he began in
his best gently scolding Master voice, "but you still should
not have..."
"Oh, what do you care?" the boy shot out, his small face
twisted bitterly. "You don't even know how to care for
someone!" Furiously, Anakin spun around and ran from the room.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called after his swiftly retreating student.
Then, again, through their link: //Anakin! You know that that's
not true!// But there was no reply.
And then, as Obi-Wan stood to give chase to his insolent
student, he ealized with a sudden sinking of his heart that his
student was not ignoring him through their bond.
Anakin couldn't even hear his call.
Sighing deeply, the young man dropped back onto the floor, his
features glum. //Well Master,// he asked the oily presence
within his mind, //what do I do now?//
"I am a fool," Qui-Gon Jinn whispered to himself as he stalked
down the long, twisting halls, his soft black cloak floating
out serenely behind him. He motioned to the guard with the
barest flicker of his hand that the door should be opened, but
he had no real expectation of being allowed inside. Surely
Palpatine would have forbidden it.
He face gave no indication of his surprise when he was allowed
into the dungeon. He hadn't really planned on what he would do
when he got there, but something had been tugging at him for
weeks, drawing him down the long flights of steps that led to
the very room in which he had spent months of his life, starved
and alone.
A small shudder worked it's way up his spine as Qui-Gon heard
the clang of the door shutting behind him-- the memories of
this hell were still fresh in his mind, but he could not decide
whether or not this hell was preferable to the one he was in
now.
A small beam of light made the crumpled form visible in the
blackness, and Qui-Gon felt pity clench his heart as he saw the
awful state of the Jedi. His entire naked body was covered in
raised welts, some still trickling blood, and his face was
flushed with fever. The once-strong body shivered in the
freezing air, and Qui-Gon was transported back to the
interminable misery of his own entrapment. Damn the monster for
ever doing this to a man. And damn him for going along with it
now.
The young Jedi stirred and groaned, his fever-glazed eyes
opening bleary. "Master?" he whispered, his gaze resting on
Qui-Gon. "Master, is that you?"
Qui-Gon's heart froze. The voice, the youthful trust...
everything reminded him of his own young Padawan. His
former Padawan. You gave up on Obi-Wan when you deserted
the Order, he reminded himself sternly. You are this man's
enemy now. But he couldn't convince his body of that, for
without conscience thought, Qui-Gon knelt beside the stricken
body and began to stroke back the soft hair. So like
Obi-Wan.
"Master?" the boy moaned, his eyes squeezing shut.
"Shh, young one," Qui-Gon whispered, his fingers continuing in
their rhythmic stroking. "It's all right."
"It hurts, Master. It hurts inside, so much. What he says...
I'm not... I'm not worthy Master..."
A lump rose in Qui-Gon's throat at the boy's words, his eyes
stinging. This child would not last much longer. Why,
Palpatine? You already have blackened my soul-- why must you
claim another? "You mustn't say that."
"But it's true!" The intense, unfocused gaze rested pitifully
on the older man, tears leaking down the worn, haggard cheeks,
leaving tracks of silver against the filth. "I don't know how
much longer I can be strong." The long fingers clutched weakly
at Qui-Gon's arms, nails biting into his flesh. "Help me,
Master. Please... help me. I don't know how much more... how
much longer..."
So this was where it came to. Either he help to free the boy
and go against his new Master, or he leave the Jedi to be
turned. It would be so, so easy.
For a long moment, Qui-Gon contemplated the pitiful pace, his
heart beginning to soften as he touched the silky hair. So
young...
But then he shook his head and stood, eliciting a desperate cry
from the young Jedi. "Please, Master! Please!" The weak form
rocked as sobs began to tear through his body, leaving him open
and vulnerable. "I can't... I can't take it."
Qui-Gon shook his head in denial, already turning to leave.
This boy was not his concern.
"Please, Master! Master, help me. Help me!" A pause, and
Qui-Gon started to step away when the broken whisper touched
his ears. "I love you."
He froze, shocked and appalled. This boy, this mere
child Knight who feverishly imagined him to be his
Master... would he still love when he was a Sith? Or would he
learn to hate as well, until that hate ate up everything that
was left of his once full heart?
Cursing mentally, Qui-Gon pulled out his light saber, letting
the Force thrill through him as he lifted it into a killing
blow. He may not be able to restore the boy to his home and his
life, but at least he could save him from utter damnation. It
was all that he could do.
"Master, I'm frightened," the Jedi whispered, his fevered eyes
meeting Qui-Gon's. "And I'm so, so cold."
"Hush now," Qui-Gon whispered back, his voice a mere shell of
what it was. "It'll all be over soon." With a tensing and
releasing of muscles, Qui-Gon thrust the saber deep within the
Jedi's heart.
The body arched up in agony for one long, time-stretched
moment, and then it slowly lowered as the life drained out of
him, the light fluttering from his face, his eyes, his hands.
And then he went still.
A deep sob burst out of Qui-Gon as he sank to his knees,
ignoring the wetness of blood seeping against his thighs. With
a gentle hand, he reached out and closed the staring eyes,
letting his touch graze momentarily against a smooth cheek.
"Sava bhavanta zayana," he whispered without bitterness. May
you have joy. "Sava sante niramaya." May you be in peace.
And ye shall be saved.
"Master Jinn is in danger," Obi-Wan almost hissed over the open
comm link. "You cannot be saying that..." He paused, a scowl
darkening his face. Anakin stood in the doorway, small fists
rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he focused in on his pacing
Master. He had heard noises coming from the next room, dragging
him from sleep and propelling him to listen as Obi-Wan spoke to
Knight after Knight.
The older man sighed as he closed the small communications
device, his face smoothing except for a fine line between his
fair brows. His gaze searched the darkness of the quarters as
his mind worked over the problem at hand, heart searching the
void for the presence of his Master. "Soon," he whispered.
"Soon."
"Soon what?"
Obi-Wan started at the young voice, angry at himself even as he
turned to face his young apprentice, face smoothing into
impassivity. "You should not have been listening, Padawan."
Anakin shrugged a small shoulder, recognizing the deft change
of conversation and resenting it. "I am sorry," he said
non-convincingly, his blue gaze fixed on his Master. "But where
are you going? What has this got to do with Qui-Gon?" Suddenly,
his face lit up, eyes sparkling brightly as he grabbed at
Obi-Wan's left sleeve excitedly. "It's a rescue mission, isn't
it? We're going to go save Qui-Gon!"
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, kneeling down before his
apprentice so that he could look him in the face. "I am going
to save Qui-Gon," he murmured. "You are going to bed."
"But I'm your Padawan!" Anakin cried out, hurt and a bit angry.
"I'm supposed to go with you to watch your back!"
Obi-Wan was very careful to keep his smile to himself. "I know
that, Anakin, and I'm sure that you would do an excellent job
of it. But I need you to stay here and get things ready for
when we return." He placed a gentle hand on a small shoulder.
"That's a very important task..."
"That's a farthing lie!" Anakin shouted, pulling away. His
little face struggled between trembling with held-back tears
and a blank mask. Finally, though, the mask won over, slamming
down on his face so that no emotions showed through. Obi-Wan
watched in despair as the blue eyes turned cold as steel, a
faint glimmer of wetness bringing the only hint that the boy
was still human at all.
"Anakin, I..." he began trying to offer peace, but the boy
interrupted him once more.
"No, I understand. Good night, Master." His tone was distant
and respectful, and Obi-Wan bit back a heart-felt sigh as his
apprentice bowed formally before him and returned to his room,
shutting the door firmly behind him.
Obi-Wan stared at the thick door, noting how ironically
symbolic it was of their relationship. Why could he never do
anything right by the boy? "Oh, Sith," he cursed lightly,
standing. Another reason for Anakin to hold a grudge against
him.
//You could have handled that a bit better, you know,// the
wry, amorphous voice informed him, signaling her invisible
presence. Obi-Wan started in surprise, still not used to the...
thing that had made its presence known the day before while he
meditated. //Or are you going for a record for worst
Padawan/Master relationship in the Temple?//
Obi-Wan ignored the snide words, turning his attention away
from his apprentice, as was his wont, and focusing on his
Master. "Is everything ready?"
//Yes. I've taken over the navigational controls of the Flyer,
and it is in the docking bay waiting for you. So is, by the
way, the rather annoying Padawan you enlisted.//
"All right. I'll be right there." He drew on his brown
over-robe, touching his unlit saber as he did so. With the aid
of the Force, he would not need it this mission.
He hesitated before the door, turning slightly to look in the
direction of Anakin's room. He wanted to go in and say good-bye
and make amends before he left, and Obi-Wan almost started
heading that way to do just that, but then he hesitated, and
turned away. Anakin wouldn't want him.
He couldn't decide which hurt the most:
Anakin not wanting to see him or the fact that it was Obi-Wan
that had fostered the distance between them.
Obi-Wan glanced at his eager features of his fellow Jedi and
nodded brusquely. Many that he had approached had expressed
concern and dismay over his decision to seek out his former
Master without the Council's permission, but Obi-Wan could not
waste precious time trying to persuade the older, more sedate
and wise Jedi and Masters to join him, so instead he had
focused his attention on those who would still jump at the
opportunity to fight a heroic battle and free the captured Jedi
Master. Unfortunately, there had been only one, slightly
younger than himself and still a Padawan. Obi-Wan sighed and
shook his head-- he felt so old and wise compared to the young,
impetuous fool who now piloted his shuttle.
//Now that, I think, is a case of a Wookiee telling a Gung-Gung
he's got fleas.//
Obi-Wan's brows drew together irritably, but he made sure that
his voice-- and thoughts-- were composed before he answered.
After all, he owed this strange Samadhi much, for it was she
who had directed him to the Sith Lord's base. "How much
farther?" If his voice was a little strained, it was nothing he
could help. she could be damned irritating at times!
//Patience, Kenobi. Patience. You will fight your battle soon
enough.//
"I just want to make sure that Qui-Gon is safe." Safe within
his arms back at the Jedi Temple where he'd never be out of his
sight again. "I am anxious to free him."
//Ah, freeing him from Palpatine will not be difficult// she
whispered softly. //Freeing him from himself..? That may prove
a challenge.//
"A challenge that I am more than willing to embrace."
Samadhi laughed then, her voice filling with affectionate
amusement. //Oh, you two! Both so madly in love with the other
that you just don't know what to do with yourselves!//
"Please, Samadhi," Obi-Wan pleaded to the empty air. "You have
spoken with him. How is Qui-Gon?"
She paused for so long that Obi-Wan feared that she would not
answer. And then came her reply, so mournful and lost that the
young man began to wish that she had not answered.
//He is not well, Kenobi. Not well at all.//
"It would seem as if you were not as strong as I had hoped
after all." Palpatine paced around the kneeling man, his aging
face hard. "And that is quite unfortunate-- for you." Qui-Gon
remained silent and impassive as the Sith Lord glided to his
side and stared down at him with a cold, predatory gaze. If
I perish, I perish, he whispered to himself fiercely.
But I will not be cowed by this man again!
He almost flinched when Palpatine suddenly reached out and
snatched his chin, lifting his face forcefully. Qui-Gon met the
furious gaze with gentle impassivity, but a spark was lighting
within his blue orbs as nails squeezed painfully into his skin.
Palpatine held him in a death grip for long moments, his eyes
searching out the emotions that bubbled darkly beneath the
other man's this veneer of control. Then, finally, he thrust
Qui-Gon away from him, propelling him to the cold floor. "I am
quite disappointed in you, Qui-Gon," he spat as he made his way
to his throne. "I had thought that you were made of sterner
stuff than this."
Seeing his chance, Qui-Gon flew into motion, drawing and
lifting his lit saber as he slashed downwards towards the
turned back. For one glorious moment, he thought that he would
be able to strike the black devil down, but his fierce hope
died with a resounding clash as Palpatine whirled about and
blocked his deadly strike with his own saber. Every muscle in
Qui-Gon's body froze as they posed in a tense tableau, sabers
locked and sparking, faces glaring hatred and malice.
Qui-Gon could feel the tension singing through him, quivering
through each of his muscles, tightening as Palpatine began to
laugh.
"I see that I was mistaken about you once again, my
Apprentice!" the older man chortled, his face wreathed in
devilish delight. "The dark Force breathes within you more
strongly than I had ever dared to hope." Qui-Gon tried to press
forward, his entire being centered on the fact that he must
taste this man's blood this day, but Palpatine moved with him,
easily keeping the two men locked in a dangerous embrace of
power. "You have shown yourself well able to kill me
without honor," he remarked lightly, vastly enjoying the way
that Qui-Gon's brows knot in fury, "but what do you plan to do
about them?"
Qui-Gon tensed, expecting a trick, but as the furious noises
began to sink into his senses, his heart began to sink. It was
very likely that he would not live through the day.
And then Palpatine stepped back, breaking their impasse with an
ease that disquieted Qui-Gon. Did he not think himself in
danger? Did he think Qui-Gon would just let him go?
But then his attention was arrested by the pounding of feet,
and Qui-Gon pivoted and struck out with his saber on pure
instinct, pushing at his fury and molding it into a weapon to
be used. The body of the guard fell beneath his viscous attack,
but Qui-Gon did not give himself time to think before he was
leaping into the midst of the armed guards, his saber a deadly
extension of the killing fury that raged within him. Each body
that gurgled and fell beneath his might merely fueled his lust
for more, making his entire being strike out as if he
were the weapon, seeking destruction with a lust unmatched in
any of his opponents. Time stilled and stretched for him as he
slashed and hacked through the jungle of human flesh eagerly,
his saber not discriminating in it's bloodlust. Whether it was
an angry attack or a petrified fleeing that he met, he met them
all with equanimity, halving soft flesh again and again, not
content with mere death. He wanted to, needed to, destroy his
opponent beyond salvation, beyond recognition, until there was
nothing left but a blood-washed mess of limbs and scorched
flesh.
As he drove his saber into the last man, Qui-Gon gave a deep,
throat-tearing scream, filling the wordless sound with all of
his hate and fury and pain, wanting to kill as he had been
killed, his soul raped and shred beyond humanity. The lifeless
form fell from his deadly embrace, eyes blank and staring, and
Qui-Gon stood in the midst of a massacre, his massacre,
panting and empty.
By the Light, what am I?
The sudden burst of sound snapped his attention back from his
appalled horror, and Qui-Gon turned to face his Master's
caustic applause. "Well done, my Apprentice. Well done."
Palpatine waded through the sea of human flesh, his eyes never
leaving the dark form, face beaming. Qui-Gon watched with sick
fascination as the Sith Lord stepped on the swiftly cooling
remains of his guards, a sick feeling of likeness settling in
his stomach. I have becomes this man.
"Now you are truly a Sith," Palpatine spoke, resting his cold
hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Just like Maul before you." His
eyes glinted in humor as he leaned forward as if to dispel as
wonderful secret. "The only difference between you two was that
Maul took much, much longer to break."
There was nothing that Qui-Gon could say to that-- no denials,
no struggling. All he had to do was look at the blood-washed
floor to know that it was true.
"Your greatest challenge awaits you, Qui-Gon, but I am assured
that you are now ready to face it."
He tried to speak, to question, but the words would not pass
his torn and aching throat. Instead he asked through their
link, realizing as he did so how completely Palpatine had
bonded them. //And what is that, Master?//
The thin lips pressed into a ghastly smile, and Qui-Gon felt a
shiver of dread pass through him, knowing that he was looking
at his future.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan stared at the unpretentious mansion, his light brows
drawing together in confusion. "This is the Sith Lord's
base?" he asked in>disbelief, gesturing to the absolutely
ordinary exterior. "It seems so...so..."
//Unimposing?// Samadhi's voice was wryly amused. //I assure
you, if you were an all-powerful Sith Lord in hiding,
you wouldn't want to broadcast your true nature, either. In
fact, I am quite sure that you'd go to all lengths to try to
appear ordinary, at least until you could safely let others
know the truth.//
"And Qui-Gon's in there?"
//Ready and waiting, Obi-Wan, which may prove to be a
problem.//
"That's not important." Nodding briskly to the young Padawan
who would remain within the shuttle ready to make good their
escape, Obi-Wan began his silent approach.
//Not important my foot. You tell me exactly how not important
it is to you when he...//
"Hush!" Obi-Wan hissed irritably, body tensing as he watched
the guards at the door. There were too many of them to begin a
direct assault, but perhaps if he...
Obi-Wan blinked, surprise washing through him. The guards were
leaving their post. "Samadhi, what..?"
//I'm not sure. Hold on,// she replied, her voice distant.
Obi-Wan waited impatiently for her return, yearning to go storm
the castle and retrieve his Qui-Gon. Finally, after several
long minutes of impatient waiting, Samadhi said //Believe it or
not, but the entire retinue of guards have just left the
grounds.//
"They left?" he asked, shocked. "Where did they go? Why
did they go?"
//I'm not sure why they left, but there's no doubt that this is
a trap. You know that, right?//
"Of course." Obi-Wan stood and began striding towards the open
door.
//Wait! What are you doing?//
He didn't pause but kept moving, his features set. "It doesn't
matter if this is a trap-- Qui-Gon's still in there, and I'm
determined to get him out."
She sighed deeply, her tone frustrated. //Are all Jedi
this foolish?// she asked wryly. Obi-Wan, for his part, ignored
her, too intent on watching for the steel claws of the trap to
spring shut behind him.
He passed through the open doorway, his eyes searching out the
entrance hall. It was a spacious room, elegant and
richly-decorated, but tastefully bland. Shaking his head-- he
certainly hadn't expected to find dried flowers in a Sith
Lord's home-- Obi-Wan opened himself up to the Force, seeking
his Master.
Qui-Gon was here, somewhere in one of the cavernous rooms of
the mansion, waiting for him.
"I'm coming, Master," Obi-Wan whispered as he stepped towards
the first of many doors. "I'll find you."
//Not like that you won't// Samadhi snapped, impatience
coloring her tones. //If you check out every which way, he'll
be dead before you reach him.//
"Is he in danger?" Obi-Wan whirled around to face her,
forgetting in his anxiety that she was non-corporeal. "Please,
Samadhi, is someone trying to hurt him?"
//No, but he'll have died of old age before you get to him.
Come, Jedi. Follow me.//
"But you're not..." Obi-Wan blinked in confusion as something
tugged his long sleeve. Looking down, his eyebrows rose in
disbelief at the small, shimmery form. It was a small child,
perhaps five or six, long silvery hair framing an almost
colorless heart-shaped face. Huge gleaming green eyes stared up
at him wordlessly. "Samadhi?" The child smiled up at him and
winked, then motioned for him to follow. Shrugging
philosophically-- he'd grill her about this later-- Obi-Wan
followed her sure form through the long, twisting halls and
stairwells. She moved with a perfection of grace that startled
him, each motion a wave lapping against the next, long hair
swirling as if it were caught in an underwater current. Light
seemed to shine directly on her, almost through her, and
Obi-Wan found himself wandering if this were her true form, or
if it were not a representation made for him.
His speculations ceased when the child stopped before a huge
oaken door and turned to look at him. The small, heart-shaped
face was grave and faintly wistful as she tugged at his hand,
pulling him down to her level. Obi-Wan knelt before her, noting
the sweet fragrance that spilled off of her as she leaned
forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. An electric tingle
sparked against his skin, sending a crashing wave of perfect
tranquillity washing through him. His eyes widened as he pulled
back slowly, his hand reaching up to touch his chest, feeling
the resolve and power that beat there.
Then, with a smile, she disappeared.
Obi-Wan shook his head slightly as he stood, eyes already fixed
on the door as his hands reached out to throw it open. Whatever
it was that had passed between them, Obi-Wan felt the strength
radiating through him, and he knew that he would need all of
his reserved skill to win this next battle.
The room was almost devoid of color. At first, Obi-Wan blinked
and wondered if the strangeness was a trick of the shadows, but
as his eyes adjusted, he realized that the entire room was
covered in glossy black marble, it's smooth edges meeting from
floor to wall to ceiling in a seamless extension of darkness.
He shuddered briefly, not liking the trapped feeling that this
room permeated. Then his gaze caught on a figure in the center
of the room. He had almost missed seeing it, as the man was
clothed entirely in black, the only things visible being his
hands which where folded on his thighs as he knelt and the
bottom of his chin which was not covered by the masking cowl.
Obi-Wan took a step into the room, his mind stretching out
towards the perfectly still figure, certain even before he felt
the familiar oil-slicked presence who it was. "Master."
Qui-Gon rose smoothly to his feet, leather-gloved hands
reaching up slowly to pull the cowl away from his face. Obi-Wan
had to bite his tongue to stifle his cry of shock, tears
jumping into his eyes as he saw the haggard, deathly-pale skin
and shorn, almost-white hair. "By the Light," he whispered, his
voice catching roughly in his throat, "what have they done to
you?"
"There is no Light here," Qui-Gon replied, his voice a harsh
growl, nothing at all like the gentle, musical tones that
Obi-Wan remembered. "There hasn't been for quite some time."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Master, that is not true." He held
out his hand, his face pleading. "I've come to take you home,
Master-- back to the Temple."
"And if I do not wish to go?"
Obi-Wan shook his head grimly, expecting this resistance. "But
you must, Master. You must come home with me."
"Why?" Qui-Gon's lips quirked into a dark smile as he slowly
began moving forward, the movement ruffling his ebony robes and
causing them to undulate gracefully behind him. "Why should I
go back with you? I'm not a Jedi Master anymore. I doubt that
even if I wished to, I would ever be accepted back into the
order. Everyone would always watch me and wonder, deep inside,
whether or not I was truly changed, whether or not I was one of
them again. They would doubt me and all of those who continued
open association with me." Obi-Wan tensed as Qui-Gon moved
closer, almost touching him, warm breath fanning across his
cheek. This was not what he was expecting at all. "Soon," he
continued, his voice low and rough, "they would begin checking
under their beds every night, afraid that I was there, waiting
for them. Fear would steal into their hearts, and they would
quake as I passed by them in the halls, in the practice rooms.
Then they would be angry at themselves for fearing me, angry at
me for making them frightened, and angry at the Force for
letting there be a reason to fear. Soon their entire world
would crumple and melt away, poisoned by fear, anger, and
hate." Obi-Wan held his breath as Qui-Gon moved infinitesimally
closer, his face mere inches away, their lips almost brushing
as he spoke. "And that, dear Obi-Wan, is why I must never, ever
be allowed back to the Jedi Temple."
The young man's held breath expelled as Qui-Gon turned and
moved away, forcefully controlling his racing heart beat. He
could have sworn that he had seen a look of utter pleading in
Qui-Gon's eyes as he had stared into his own, a look of utter
despair and yearning. Drawing himself up to his full height,
Obi-Wan felt his resolve harden: he could never leave him now.
"Qui-Gon, there is still hope. There is always hope. Please,
come back with me."
"For what?" Qui-Gon continued to move away, his back straight
and body taut. "There's nothing left for me there."
"There's me."
The dark figure froze at Obi-Wan's words, muscles tensing
noticeably beneath the billowing robes. "You? What do you mean
by that?"
Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to approach, his words spilling out
as he moved closer. "I think you know what I mean, Qui-Gon.
Can't you feel it?" He opened himself to the older man, sending
waves of love and devotion spilling towards him. He smiled
gently to himself when he drew close enough to see the older
man's gentle shivering, his hand reaching out to touch the
whitened hair. "Yes," he whispered, fingers stroking the short
strands. "Yes, I believe you understand."
Obi-Wan cried out in surprise when Qui-Gon whirled away from
him, body poised in a battle stance, wickedly gleaming red
light saber humming with blood lust. "Defend yourself,
Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon snapped, his eyes blazing. When the younger
man did not move, he slashed downwards, barely missing catching
tender flesh as Obi-Wan lept to the side, lighted saber in his
hand and crashing against his former Master's deadly up-stroke.
Their eyes locked as their sabers met and held, bodies tense
and perspiration making silver tracks down their necks.
"You don't have to do this, Qui-Gon," the younger man panted as
the broke apart and parried, sabers clashing again and again.
"You can just come with me."
"No." Qui-Gon dove forward into a series of rapid thrusts, his
face feral and eyes wild. Obi-Wan yelped as the red blade
almost sliced across his chest, bringing his own weapon up in a
desperate attempt to block. He tried to turn Qui-Gon, but he
was unable to do anything but defend himself desperately,
breath heaving through his chest as he blocked each attack with
a little less strength and swiftness.
I'm going to lose, Obi-Wan thought desperately, wincing
as their swords met again with a clash that screamed through
his tense muscles. He's my teacher-- he knows all of my
moves. He taught me all of my moves!
They moved through attack after attack, Qui-Gon relentlessly
pressing on, his jaw set in determination, eyes glassy and
almost demented. Obi-Wan could feel his strength sapping away
from him swiftly, draining him. Even Maul had not fought this
hard, but beyond this was the truth that he had to recognize
deep within himself: He was holding back his swings in fear of
harming the man he loved. Qui-Gon was not doing the same.
"Please, Master," Obi-Wan panted, barely deflecting a deadly
saber, muscles screaming desperately. "Please... Qui-Gon, don't
do this!" Qui-Gon continued relentlessly, ignoring the younger
man's pleas. Soon... Obi-Wan knew with a sense of sickening
dread that the next blow would be his last. Closing his eyes in
pain, he lifted his saber, devoid of hope, his mind reaching to
gently brush against Qui-Gon's one final time.
He could sense the shift in the Force even before the other man
cried out in shock. The clatter of Qui-Gon's saber skittering
across the floor crashed through his senses, and Obi-Wan's eyes
snapped open in shock, his mouth dropping to form a desperate
'O' as he took in the impossible scene before him.
Qui-Gon knelt before him on the cold black floor, body tense
and straight, eyes shut in pain. Obi-Wan's light saber rested
inches from his exposed throat.
"Do it," Qui-Gon whispered huskily, making Obi-Wan jump in
surprise. "Do it, Obi-Wan-- finish it."
"Master," Obi-Wan whispered desperately, his entire frame
shaking, "I..."
"Just do it, Obi-Wan!" Blue eyes opened and stared straight at
him, into him, desperate and very, very tired. "It's the only
way." The young man began shaking his head vehemently, eyes
glistening. "I can't go back to what I was, Obi-Wan-- I can't
be the man that I was ever again. Please, end this for me. Let
me rest."
"I can't do that, Master," the younger man breathed, lowering
his saber and casting it aside. Sighing, he fell to his knees
and drew the older man into a tight embrace, face turning to
press against the soft hair. "I'd rather die first." Qui-Gon
was stiff and unresponsive in his arms, muscles tensed in
wariness. "Do not be afraid, Qui-Gon," the young Knight
murmured as he pulled back slightly to look into the worn,
haggard face. Years had been added in deep lines that pulled
the flesh into a look of utter pain, making Qui-Gon look old
and tired. "I will not hurt you."
The blue eyes settled on him, cold and barren. "What will keep
me from hurting you, Obi-Wan?" The younger man held back a
shiver by force of>will, his eyes locked in an intense gaze
with his former Master. Qui-Gon held his gaze challenging for a
long moment, his brows drawn down menacingly. Then, slowly, his
face softened as he shook his head, tired lids dropping in
defeat. "You see, Obi-Wan? I am no longer the man you knew." He
stood slowly, pulling forcefully away from Obi-Wan's stunned
arms, leaving the young man kneeling alone on the ebony floor.
Leave me."
"No, Master," Obi-Wan ground out, his eyes sparkling somewhere
between anger and tears. "I will not do that."
Qui-Gon paused, back still to the younger man. "Then stay,"
Qui-Gon sneered, hands clenching in helplessness as his voice
choked with emotions that he did not want to inspect. Obi-Wan
stood slowly, his face set in grim determination. "Perhaps
after my Master has finished with me, and I am no more use to
him, he will begin your training Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan could feel the helplessness and rage filling him, and
for the first time in his life, he let it come, let it wash
through him in brilliant folds until it burned so bright that
it was no longer anger and despair but the thrashing whirlwind
of the Force ripping through him with a power that he had never
felt before. Slowly his hands rose, almost as if they moved by
their own will and not his own, until his palms faced towards
the immobile black-clad back of the man he loved.
"Go, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed, turning finally, his face
haggard with acceptance. "I..."
"I will not leave without you," he ground out, letting go
completely to the wash of fire that threatened to burn his very
soul as it ripped out from within him, hurtling in a wave of
Force towards Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon cried out as something twisted
within his mind, his eyes rolling up into his head as he slowly
crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Obi-Wan fell to his knees, eyes sealed shut as his palms
pressed against his closed eyes, trying to grind away the pain
in abject desperation. His body tingled and thrummed with a
residue of energy, filling his blood and causing his body to
spark with invisible flames. Then, slowly, the feeling receded,
and Obi-Wan slowly dropped his hands and opened his eyes.
He blinked furiously, bringing the dark room back into focus,
his eyes drifting towards the still form of his Master. Rising
slowly to his feet, staggering as he did so, Obi-Wan made his
way over to the crumpled body, mind reaching out to brush
against the mind of Qui-Gon, satisfied when he felt the beating
heart echo through him.
Good.
Sighing, he reached down and lifted up the larger man, using
the added power of the Force to aide him. Later, his body would
realize that he had exerted more than he had to give, but for
now, he would trudge on and take Qui-Gon back to the Temple
where he could be healed.
Whether Qui-Gon willed it or not.
Palpatine watched from a dark window as the young Obi-Wan
half-carried, half-propelled his unconscious Master towards the
hovering craft. The female Padawan jumped out and helped the
Knight load the black-swathed form gently into the craft,
babbling excitedly to the silent and exhausted Obi-Wan. The,
climbing inside, the girl initiated the craft and it Flyer
disappeared into the clouds.
Letting the curtain drop, Palpatine felt a smile curve his
lips. Qui-Gon had been rescued and would be taken into the Jedi
Temple to be healed, corrupting all those around him like a
gangarous wound eats away at the flesh it houses. And then
Anakin, bright student of Obi-Wan, would turn against his
Master and destroy him, as Palpatine had foreseen.
Maul's death would be avenged.
The dark smile widened, the Sith Lord loving the irony.
Obi-Wan's unfailing love for his Master would be the very thing
that would lead to his death.
Everything was going according to plan.
Yoda shifted awake, his eyes searching the darkened room even
as he sat up. "Who is there? Show yourself you must."
Light flowed in from the window, collecting on the floor in a
molten pool, and Yoda sighed in comprehension, his small
wizened face nodding wisely. "Understand, I do. What is next?"
//Qui-Gon must be allowed to come back to the compound to see
the boy. However... the Council is to forbid them to meet.//
Yoda's long ears twitched in concern. "Pit the boy against the
Jedi Council, it would."
//That is true.// The liquid light flowed upwards along the
walls, spreading to bathe the room in brilliant light. //But it
will be done. Anakin will become as I have foretold.//
"A dark think for such a child."
//Are you questioning our judgment?//
"No," Yoda whispered, lips compressed. "Question I do not. Wish
it could be otherwise..? Always."
//See that it is done.// Slowly, the light shimmered and then
began fading away, shrinking until it became nothing more than
moonlight upon the floor.
Yoda sighed deeply, his body hunching over in weariness. He had
seen the future of the Jedi, his vision awash in blood and pain
and darkness. There was much anguish to come, and too much
death. Too many friends.
"No choice had I," he whispered to the haunting faces of those
who were yet to die, to turn to Darkness, to be born to fight
what he helped to create. "This Path must be." He shook his
head, ears drooping in an exhaustion and that he never let
show. He had many years and tribulations to go before he could
rest.
And his voice reached out to those who slept in the compound,
the young students and Padawans and Knights and Masters, each
blissfully unaware of the future that awaited them. And one
boy, dreams sweet, soul already bartered and sold to the Devil
in the name of the future.
"Sorry am I."
Author's note: And thus ends the second story in the Fallen
Knight series. The third story will be named Catharsis and will
be posted soon. Please give feedback-- it was the only thing
that kept we writing this late into the night. :)
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