Chosen 2: Broken, a very
alternate universe Star Wars (Kenobi) story by Glacis. Rated NC17 for language
and adult themes. No copyright infringement intended. Takes place immediately
after "Bound"
The demon chased him across space. He didn't feel the concussion of
weapons fire against the sides of their stolen transport. Didn't hear the
unusually coarse exclamation his master gave when the nav panel shorted out,
nearly frying both of them in their seats. Wasn't aware of the hesitant tapping
on his reserves of the Force, just enough to add to his master's sluggish
reflexes, that allowed them to escape the pod of smugglers and paid assassins
that passed as Jabba the Hutt's personal guard.
The first clear impression he had that wasn't laced with blood and pain
was of thick, comforting fluid surrounding his body. It lasted only a moment,
merely long enough for his semiconscious mind to pinpoint his location as the
healing vats at the Temple, before his tenuous hold on reality was again lost
to red, and yellow, and black, and nothingness.
The second time he awoke was to the sensation of crisp, cool sheeting
against his skin.
Home. Or as close as he got to one. Coruscant. Convalescent unit at the
healers' dome.
He waited, but the expected rush of security and comfort didn't come. In
a stab of panic so rare it was practically unrecognizable as such, he sent out
a distress call through the Force.
His master didn't answer.
Five other masters did.
Their voices overlapped, deafening him, and he curled into a small fetal
ball, clamping his arms over his head to shut out the noise. When the clamor
didn't diminish he finally realized that they were speaking through the Force,
trying to calm him, trying to reach him.
He didn’t want to be reached.
Obi Wan Kenobi closed his eyes, met the demon, and surrendered to the
darkness from the hole in the center of his mind.
Deep in meditation in the private antechamber outside Yoda's quarters,
it took a moment for the meaning of the incoherent wail tearing into his mind
to make sense. Master Jinn unwrapped himself from his meditation pose so
quickly he nearly pulled a muscle in his groin, reminding himself that although
he felt perfectly fine, his body had been in a deep freeze for several months,
and it would take some time for his muscles to forgive him the harsh treatment.
Not that a minor muscle ache could compare to the torment clawing at him
through the Force. His padawan was in serious pain. He reached the door in two
very long strides and nearly flattened Yoda, who made no comment, simply moved
aside and let the tall Human barge through. Jinn's normal grace and tranquility
were completely absent as he flew down the hall, out the door and threw himself
into a hovercraft. Steering it toward the Healers' Dome, unashamedly using
every trick he knew to clear the way, he made it to his apprentice's side in a
third the time the trip would usually take.
Judging by the sight that met him when he stepped through the door, it
had taken too long.
Obi Wan was wound into the tightest knot he'd ever seen a fully grown
Human make. His entire body was shaking, and the bed was shaking along with
him. Healers were gathered around the bed trying their hardest to cast a Force
buffer of calm around the trembling body, but they were meeting a strange sort
of resistance.
Not only was his Padawan fighting Light with Light, and winning, but
there was an odd cast to the fight. The usual pearly glare of Light was nearly
opaque, and it had disturbing ripples through it, as if onyx had seeped into
opal and become one with the stone.
The trembling Qui Gon felt running through his connection with his apprentice
began to manifest itself in him, as well. A shudder began at the nape of his
neck and worked down to his knees. As horrible as Obi Wan's experiences had
been on Tatooine, there was something even worse implied by those dark tendrils
slithering through his presence. Before he could put a name to the vague
trepidation making his knees quake, the world went suddenly black.
Kwold Wabver had seen many things in her years as a Master Healer. The
connection between Master and Padawan ran deeply, and illnesses or injuries to
one were often felt through the bond by the other.
When Qui Gon Jinn's eyes rolled up in his head and he went down like
felled tree, she should have been expecting it. Would have, in fact, if all her
attention hadn't been caught up in the fight to keep Obi Wan Kenobi's mind from
shattering into microfragments. So when two hundred pounds of deadweight Jedi
Master landed on her, she lost her grip with every one of her tentacles and
sprawled directly on top her distressed patient.
The results were rather spectacular, if amazingly painful.
Kenobi exploded out of his fetal position into a whirl of flailing arms
and legs -- well trained and forceful arms and legs. In addition, he threw out
a charge of repulsive energy through the Force that collapsed the healing
buffer like wet tissue and flung her bodily away from him, hurling her nearly
ten feet through the air, her flight finally and painfully stopped when she
impacted with the far wall and slid to land in an ungainly heap on the floor.
She distinctly heard a pop and a squish as her left foretentacle broke near the
stem joint. Her lower left quadrant went dead in a genetic response to trauma,
fluid loss and shock.
That hurt.
From her vantage point on the floor, wishing she was more numb than she
was, she saw all four other healers reel away from the bed as if blown by a
strong wind. Kenobi paused for a bare instant, then rolled and dropped,
spread-eagled, covering as much of his master's body as he could. A low,
keening growl issued from deep in his chest, and feral blue eyes stared around
at the carnage of the convalescing room. He looked as if he was daring anyone
to try to harm his master, as if he would enjoy ripping their throats out with
his teeth.
By the Light. They had a great deal of work to do before this one would
be fit for company again.
Motioning the other healers back with her functioning foretentacle, she
painfully inched her way forward, ensuring that she stayed far enough away that
the young padawan would not consider her a threat to his master. As gently as a
whisper, she thought to him, Obi Wan? I will not harm you. I will not harm
your master. You are safe. He is safe. You can relax, young one. You are safe.
He growled at her. She sent out a quick questing tendril of the Force,
and checked on Master Jinn's condition. All his vital signs were within normal
range for a Human recovering from prolonged hypothermia and exhaustion. He was
in a deep sleep, not a coma, and not at risk from his padawan's bizarre, if
protective, actions.
She intensified the pitch of her whisper, deepened the timbre, and
poured every bit of reassurance she could into the link. You have done well,
young one. You may rest now. He is safe. Your master is safe. You have
protected him. It is time for you to rest.
Heavy lids gradually lowered over those blazing eyes, but his grip
didn't lessen on his master. She sighed again, and sent a thought command to
her team. Gingerly, they formed a Force net below the entwined figures and
lifted them gently to the bed.
Leaving the two Jedi unconscious, still draped around one another, on
the bed, Kwold nodded permission for her second to come assist her to a healing
tank. This situation would require delicate handling to repair. She hoped it
would not be beyond their capabilities. Much depended on the young one, how
strong he was, and how willing he would be to face and conquer what had
happened to him. In this, the bond between master and padawan so forcefully
expressed would be his greatest ally.
She grimaced as her left foretentacle was braced, flushed, and sealed,
then lay back in the healing balm and stared at the ceiling.
A great deal of work to be done. Most of it, by the victims themselves.
She sincerely hoped it would be possible. The waste would be appalling were it
not.
Obi Wan swam back to the surface painfully. For the first time in
months, his mind was clear, and his body was ridiculously weak. He had a vague
recollection of fighting off another attack and throwing himself over his
master in an attempt to protect him, but he couldn't pinpoint the source of the
attack nor from whom he was trying to protect Qui Gon.
It was all very confusing.
A broad, multi-hued face filled his field of vision, and he summoned his
best attempt at a smile for the being, tentatively placing her as a Healer, but
not sure where the information came from. She looked as if she had been in a
battle recently. Abrasions turned her colors even brighter than her usual
array, one of her tentacles was strapped to an immobilizing board, and she was
walking with a limp.
"You look as in need of succor as I feel, Healer," he managed
to rasp. His throat felt lacerated and the state of his voice reflected the
pain. "Did you catch the Sith who did that?"
The joke fell flat, although both her mouths smiled dutifully. It was
his own preoccupation that distracted him. Sith.
Something about a Sith.
Without warning, a face overlaid hers, red eyes glaring yellow lust at
him, black and red skin hot against him. He moaned, a short, high sound of
anguish, and twisted in the bed, trying to escape. Unable to move.
"Calm yourself, Padawan Kenobi," came the stern command, a
Master's voice, but not his own. He bit his lips until the lower one bled,
cutting off the sound. A gentle touch, the brush-brush of suckers across the
wound, and the pain eased.
Not the vision.
It lay in wait for him, behind a fog in his mind, ready to ambush him
when he least expected it. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did. The Force
was whispering to him, urgently, incessantly.
"Master?" he asked quietly. She answered immediately.
"He is resting, young one. As you should be as well."
The cool touch came again, the small suckers like tiny mouths kissing
away the lines of tension on his face, and with great misgiving, he relaxed
enough to finally fall asleep naturally.
A rustling sound from the next bed alerted the Healer to Master Jinn's
awakening. She turned to find him balanced none too steadily on the edge of the
bed.
"I sense a strong disturbance in the Force," he said
questioningly, the words directed at her but his gaze firmly on his apprentice.
"Is Obi Wan all right?"
"Not yet," she replied, resting her right foretentacle on his
shoulder to help steady him. "Was he able to give you any information
about the events of his captivity? Physically, he is not too badly
damaged." She glanced back at the young man lying unmoving on the bed.
"There is evidence of malnutrition, exhaustion, abrasions where restraints
were placed, contusions from beatings, and sexual abuse."
Bright blue eyes stared into her. She hastened to explain further. "Some
tissue damage, muscle strain, a few tears, and saliva and semen retrieved from
the rectum. Saliva was identified as being from a Hutt, but the semen has as
yet not been identified."
A shudder ran through the Jedi master, and his brow creased with worry
and pain for his apprentice. "He was in no condition to tell me
anything," he said softly. "He was too busy saving my life."
She patted him sympathetically once more, then put on a more
professional mien. "And your little reaction this morning? We could
ascertain it was an overload through the Force connection between you, but were
unable to determine its composition or cause." She paused and arched an
eyestalk at him. "Care to elaborate? Able to?"
Jinn shook his head. "I don't know." Another eyestalk arched
and he shrugged, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of confusion.
"There was something … there … right before I lost consciousness, but I
can't remember what it was. It was too unclear, too fleeting."
Her eyes closed in disappointment, then flared open again. "If it
happens again, or you recall any further details, let me know immediately.
There appear to be no lasting harmful effects this once, but it is unexplained,
and worrisome."
"Immediately," he assured her, then rose from the side of the bed and
went over to stand over Obi Wan, staring down at the pale face and the tangle
of red gold hair. "He will be all right." It wasn't quite a question,
not quite a pronouncement.
She felt his concern, and responded to it as honestly as she could.
"With time, and healing, and the Force, we believe he shall be."
Settling himself onto a stool beside the bed, he reached out and laid
one large hand over his Padawan's smaller one. "He shall be."
A shrouded figure stared at the holoimage of his apprentice and shook
his head, slowly. "My plans will not be hindered by your impudence or
petty need for revenge. Forget the Jedi boy. I have a mission for you."
Glowing eyes fell before the command in their master's face, and the
need, the addiction, was pushed into a corner of his mind. There would be a way
to complete his mission and still slake his addiction.
He would find a way.
"The Senate does not recognize the right of the Trade Federation to
speak at this juncture!"
Pandemonium.
"Our planet has been invaded, our people slaughtered! Our Queen has
been assassinated in her own palace and her guard decimated! The very Jedi sent
to protect Naboo turned against her! We demand action! We demand response! We
demand justice!"
It was going precisely as planned. Beneath his righteous indignation,
his eyes glittered. The massed political might of the Republic mistook it for
tears.
Only the latest of their misjudgments. Soon, it would be within his
grasp. The timetable had accelerated, but that was as it should be. There would
be balance in the Force.
It would be tilted in his favor.
The strands of Fate wove together much more quickly than he had
anticipated. The time of vengeance was at hand, and his own personal quest was
woven into a tapestry much grander than Maul had hoped to anticipate so soon.
Something had shifted in the Force, a small warp in the weave that he could
trace back to the explosive joining of his body and the young Jedi
apprentice's.
It haunted him. The ripples spread from that battle to this, increasing
exponentially, washing everything away in their path.
It felt incredibly good.
"No, master." Obi Wan stared at his reflection in the window,
not needing to see Qui Gon glowering at him from the center of the room to know
it was happening. He could feel it between his shoulder blades.
"It has been five months, Padawan. You are healed in body, and
healing in mind. You have to stop hiding sometime."
Obi Wan ran one hand through the thick mop of hair that now hung past
his shoulders, the point of contention between himself and his master. The
current point of contention, anyway. It seemed since he'd been released from
the Healers' Dome there had been a series of them. He didn't know what was
wrong with himself, but was well aware that something was. "I'm not
hiding, master. I just … don't want to cut my hair."
A sound suspiciously like a snort came from his usually dignified
master. "You won't cut your hair. You won't join the other apprentices in
practice. You won't eat in the common room. You won't listen to counsel from
the other masters." There was a pause, and Obi Wan distinctly heard his
master swallow. "You won't talk to me." Another pause, but he could
find nothing to say to fill it. "This will not go on."
There was a ring of finality to it. From out of nowhere the question
bubbled up. "Will you nominate me to the trials, master?" He could
actually taste his Master's incredulity at the thought through their bond.
"No." Are you serious? You are barely healed. Emotionally,
you are extremely fragile. You are acting completely out of character. Why are
you suddenly so intent on trials you are in no condition to undertake?
He smiled at his reflection in the window, comforted as always by the
feel of his master's voice in his mind. I need something from you,
Master. Something you would not be willing to share with a Padawan. Something
you could give a Knight.
Anything you need, I will do my utmost to provide.
Obi Wan shook his head. Not this time, Master.
You will not know unless you ask. So calm.
But if I ask and you refuse, I will have nowhere else to turn.
I will not refuse you, Qui Gon promised.
Not if it is within my power to grant, and lies within the Light.
Obi Wan's head came forward and he leaned against the cool glass. I
need … for you to take away the demon.
"Demon?"
Before Obi Wan could say more, could force himself to unburden the one
final part of his imprisonment that he had been unable to tell anyone, even his
master, a siren cut through the tranquility of the
Less than a hundred yards from the hall, the
It was pandemonium.
Kenobi stared in shock at the gutted hole in the flooring that used to
be the main Council chamber. A tiny voice gibbered in the back of his mind that
the Council had been in session, something about turmoil in the senate, and who
could survive … A large hand clamped on his upper arm and, Force assisted,
yanked him away from the disaster area just as a chunk of marble and steel
thundered down on them from above.
We have to get out of here, Obi Wan. Urgency
made the mind-voice so loud he winced and covered his ears in an instinctive
motion.
But what about -- He couldn't even form a picture, much less articulate
the plea.
Survivors?
Yes!
Feel.
He did.
He couldn't.
There was nothing there.
All around him, the building was groaning, tearing itself apart. Around
Coruscant, he could hear explosions, the shrieks of the dying, a massive
pounding that went through the surface maze of buildings and into the core of
the planet itself.
Planet killers.
Dazed, he followed his Master to the escape pods at the heart of the
No one.
Dead, or dying, or already escaped.
Trembling, Obi Wan put his hands on the controls and pressed his back
against Qui Gon's torso. "Hang on," he cautioned needlessly, then
wrapped one strong fist around the stick and punched the afterthrusters with
his other hand. He skipped the warm-up and hit full acceleration. The pod
lurched forward then swooped into a combat takeoff, straight up and away from
the rapidly crumbling ruins of the Jedi temple below them.
Blasters from the droid fighters seared all around them, but Obi Wan
flew as one possessed. He cushioned himself against the buffer of hard-fought
calm coming from his Master behind him, and drew upon every ounce of the Force
he had within him, even the unsettling tendrils that had made the last months
so difficult.
Something worked, better than anything had ever worked in his life. The
pod twisted and soared through the dense bank of attack fighters, weaving
through the phalanx as if they were air. Escaping the planetary atmosphere, he
was lining up the pod to evade the battle ring orbiting Coruscant, when an
immense wave of compressed air, chunks of matter and a tremendous fireball
washed the small craft ahead of it like a cork on the tide.
Coruscant. Or what remained of it.
The concussion from the final explosion of the planet's core tossed the
pod free of the cordon of attack craft ringing the battle area, and nearly
shook both Jedi from their skin as well. Obi Wan fought the intense heat, the
wild shaking and the balky controls to wrest the pod to some semblance of
control. When the shaking finally stopped, he took a deep breath and relaxed a
fraction of an inch. That was all the room there was between him and his
master. Qui Gon didn't object.
Staring at the readings, shocked at how far the explosion had catapulted
them from where Coruscant had been, he asked, "Master? Where to?"
"What's available?" The deep voice was faint. Probably from
Obi Wan's weight against his ribs. He tried to sit up, further away, but a long
arm wrapped around his waist prevented him from moving. "It's all right,
Obi Wan. What's closest? We have no food and no water on this craft, and
limited oxygen."
He stared harder at the dials, willing the information to make some
sense. Finally, he saw something.
"There's one option, Master."
"Take it."
Obi Wan forced a tiny grin. "Don't you want to know what it
is?"
"Do we have any choice?" Shock was starting to wear on both of them,
and Kenobi lost his grin as reality sank in.
"Dagobah it is, then."
Back to Chosen 1: Bound On to Chosen 3:
Trials
