The Jedi Temple Murders
by analise and Kirby CrowPart 4
Darkness cloaks many things, hides secrets and blurs the line between imagination and reality. Shadows can seem strangers, stretching and snapping into forms and shapes that only the mind can make threatening. I feel most at home at night. Empowered by the illusions of nighttime.
He is sleeping. Most everyone is now. The double moons are down, lending the texture of pure, smooth onyx to the air. I can feel the errant mind of a temple guard here and there, nervous, watchful. They have been warned there is a monster on the grounds. I smile to myself at the thought.
He is restless. Perhaps anxious after the sharp exchange of words earlier with his 'friend'. My fingers quake slightly in anticipation as I stretch myself out to him, tugging gently and inexorably on his mind, twisting in amongst his thoughts. His disquiet is helpful to me, making it easier to lure him, to move his sleep-leadened limbs. To bring him to me.
The waters of the pool are quiet, glittering only faintly with the light of the massive city that stretches across the planet's surface. Light that even the size of the Jedi Temple Compound cannot keep out. I wait silently in the shadows at the end of the wide oblong swimming area, stilling myself, calming my rattling heart. I can hardly wait.
When he appears at the edge of the pool area, cloaked in shadows, lit faintly from the pale-washed night sky, I let myself smile.
It was happening again. He could feel those hands on him, bruising, twisting. The horrible pain at his temple where a cruel hand had wrapped itself around his braid, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. Fingers sliding up his neck, burning into his flesh with their intentions. Harsh, hot breath on the side of his tear-dampened cheek, and the searing agony between his legs....
He woke with a gasp, trembling like a leaf, drenched in sweat. Almost without thinking, he folded his shaking frame upon itself, wrapping his arms around upraised knees and bowing his head, rocking gently and trying to calm himself. His body burned all over, as if he had just been there. Just been....
He hadn't had that dream in almost 9 months. He'd thought he'd banished it. The sensations still stroked up and down his skin like pale, rotting fingertips. Green eyes, dark hair, laughing mouth....body falling, swallowed by white foam, pounded mercilessly under the surface by thousands of tons of falling water.
Obi-Wan stifled a sob and pressed his eye sockets against his knees hard enough that starbursts of light strobed behind closed lids. It was Sandor's death that had resurrected that hated nightmare. And the argument with Bacco hadn't helped.
Grimacing to himself, he wiped at his wet eyes almost angrily, swinging his legs off the bed and letting his eyes drift around the moonlit room.
He paused for a long moment, listening, straining to see if his nightmare had woken his Master in the next room. He heard nothing but the slow, heavy sound of Qui-Gon's breathing coming faintly through the thin wall.
Qui-Gon. Swallowing, he let himself press his cheek against the cool sheetrock, one hand flat against the slightly textured surface, his eyes closed. He imagined that he could feel his Master's calming presence through the barrier and he suddenly wished with all his heart that he was young enough to have an excuse to climb into bed with that tall, strong body. To let those arms curl around him and comfort him, to feel lips in his hair and on his face, kissing away the pain that pounded so ruthlessly in his heart.
He had never been able to do that. By the time he'd been taken as apprentice, he was already too old to show such weakness. His few nightmares had been trials he'd borne alone. After last year, they'd been more violent, more frequent, but he'd kept them secret from Qui Gon, knowing that if his Master knew, he would delve deeper and see. See everything.
He pushed away from the wall then, forcing himself to cease wandering down paths that could never be. There was no way that Qui-Gon could ever find out. Not about Geen and not about his secret fantasies. His face colored slightly at the very thought. His hidden desire was not something he wanted out in the light. He would be taken from his Master, or, even worse, Qui-Gon would simply be disgusted.
He walked as far from the wall as possible, going instead to the window and looking out across the moonlit scape of the garden below. Swinging open the casement, he leaned out, taking a deep breath of the rain-cooled night air.
And then it hit him like a club to the back of the head.
*Fear* The sensation of water filling his lungs, his nose, strong hands at his throat, holding him down. *Panic* Mind-numbing, heart-pounding panic. Gasping, reeling slightly, he clutched at the sill and closed his eyes, thinking for a moment that it was merely a subset of his dream, a lingering strand of his own fear. But it was not.
It was Bacco.
He didn't even throw a shirt on. He simply grabbed his lightsaber and ran, barefoot and bare chested, through the deserted halls of the Temple. He forewent the lift, instead taking the stairs, flipping his body lithely over each turn in the stairwell. The panic was flooding his senses, aimed, he knew, at him. A burst of terrible, gagging, helplessness....it was hampering his own breathing, clutching at his heart with tight fingers.
And then it just stopped.
Almost sobbing, he flung open the doors into the main gardens, noting dimly that there were no Temple Guards on duty, bolting as fast as he could down the rain-wet gravel of the path, rounding the wide corner towards the pool....
Only to find a dark, underlit figure floating face down in the sapphire water, arms spread gently to each side, feet drifting softly along the bottom of the shallow end.
Bacco. The pool was crystal still, only a gentle slapping sound filled the silence, smooth ripples generated from the unmoving form lapping against the sides. Without breaking stride, he flung his lightsaber to one side and dove into the pool.
Oddly enough, as he dragged his friend's body to the steps of the shallow end, the only thing he could think of was the fact that the last words between them had been poisoned with fear and suspicion.
He sank to an upper step, turning Bacco face up, staring dazedly down into the empty face. Wide, sightless brown eyes met his....a complete lack of expression on a face so often vibrant with emotion. With a trembling hand, he brushed the thin lids closed, swallowing through a throat thick with guilt and grief. Obi-Wan pulled the dark head into his lap, smoothing the sleek wet hair back from skin already turning bone white in death.
Bacco's right wrist floated on the surface away from his body, the dark stain of the tattoo burning in Obi-Wan's line of sight like a mark of death. There were only two of them left now. Who was doing this? Was he next? Or Elspeth?
The sound of a shout startled him and he jerked his head up to see two stunned Temple Guards standing at the opposite end of the pool, their hands dropping to their weapons.
Obi-Wan frowned at them, opening his mouth to ask for some help getting his friend from the pool, when Elspeth's shriek cut through the air.
"Murderer!"
"The boy will have to be tested, Qui-Gon." Mace's deep, modulated tones echoed throughout the Moot Hall, seeming to mock Qui-Gon's seething anger.
Qui-Gon did not ask what Mace meant by 'tested'. He knew.
"I forbid it," Qui-Gon stated, clamping his jaw around the words so hard that they were almost hissed between his teeth.
"Then you must do it yourself," was Mace's unequivocal reply. Master Windu seemed unruffled, unmoved. Qui-Gon knew he would have better luck persuading a stone to turn to water than to change Mace's mind once he had decided on a course of action.
"I will not," Qui-Gon argued, willing his voice to soften, loosening the muscles in his jaw. "My apprentice's word is good enough...."
"For you," Mace finished the thought. "Qui-Gon, you cannot deny the evidence. Obi-Wan was found with Bacco's dead body in his arms. He admits to being sexually involved with Sandor, and then there is the matter of the Padawan Elspeth. Her accusations are made under stress, but they cannot be ignored."
Qui-Gon could almost believe he was sorry.
"Obi-Wan is the prime suspect," Mace said. "And since his knowledge and control of the Force allows him to conceal his emotions and thoughts from us - a skill *we* taught him, by the way- for that reason this method is only used on Jedi."
"It's abominable," Qui-Gon said, his arm unconsciously stealing around Obi-Wan's shoulders, feeling the slight tremble there. "It's like asking him to give consent to his own rape. And asking me to allow it is...." Qui-Gon broke off, unable to express how deeply he was outraged.
"He is innocent," he repeated.
"Deny that, we do not," Yoda spoke from his seated alcove. The other masters nodded their agreement, some murmuring assent.
"No?" Qui-Gon said heatedly.
"For his own good, this is," Yoda said placidly. "Prove his innocence, it could. And what of Master Erdu?" The tiny Jedi gestured towards the bent, grieving form of Bacco's Master. "What of his need to know? Thought of that, have you?"
Qui-Gon had no answer. He felt his resolve weakening under Yoda's calm reason.
"You must leave," Mace said.
Now *that* he would not do. "No." His eyes dared any of them to gainsay him.
Yoda signaled his acquiescence with a wave of his small, green hand. "Remain, you may. Right, it is, your wish to protect your padawan's mind. But.... do not interfere."
Mace nodded, satisfied. He took a deep breath and visibly composed himself. Qui-Gon observed that Mace's eyes softened noticeably when he looked down at Obi-Wan.
"Very well, then. Obi-Wan Kenobi, clear your mind."
Mace folded his arms in his long sleeves and approached Obi-Wan. The young man took an involuntary step back, suddenly more afraid of this than he had been of anything before in his short life, ever-- and found himself in his master's embrace.
"Easy," Qui-Gon spoke lowly into his ear. "Calm. Be at peace. None shall harm you," Qui-Gon looked over the top of Obi-Wan's head to lock eyes with Mace. "I promise."
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's solid mental assurance that his apprentice had nothing to hide, and was heartbroken afresh at the depth of his master's trust. However, he was not at all reassured. It was more than a shallow mind-touch Master Windu was proposing. What the Jedi Master wanted to do was probe his innermost self, a secret place that belonged to him alone, never before touched. He had thought never to share it, except perhaps with one other, and that was only in his fondest dreams.
Too, there *were* secrets there. Things he wanted no one to know, least of all Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan's eyes and posture and mind radiated his fear.
Mace sensed it and was unable to hide the flash of sad hurt that chased across his features. "I will not harm you, young padawan. What do you think me?"
Obi-Wan cast his eyes to the floor, ashamed. "I know that, Master Windu."
"Then," Mace strove for a gentle tone. "Clear your thoughts and allow me to lead your mind to what I must see."
Obi-Wan nodded, trying to swallow in a throat suddenly gone dry. He felt a tickle in his ear and reached up to scratch, only to realize that it was neither a tickle nor really there. More like an itch. And it wasn't on the outside. The maddening little itch was *inside* his brain. It was Mace Windu's probe.
Over, under, and around. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, feeling the solidity- the *realness* - of Qui-Gon arms around him as Mace sifted through his thoughts and memories like fingers through sand, discarding event after event in his life, milestones, achievements, great joys; all were cast aside. They were not what Mace was looking for.
Obi- Wan knew it was only the Master's efficiency and his way of being respectfully distant of what he was witnessing, but still it felt as if he'd been catalogued, processed, and ultimately labeled as worthless. Even the events of Bandomeer - the great turning ground of his life- were glanced at and ignored. He felt used and useless. Inconsequential. A niggling little worm in a vast, quiet hall full of greatness.
He heard a persistent, mourning sound in all that silence, and was mortified to realize he was crying.Qui-Gon's arms tightened around his chest so hard he could barely draw air into his lungs. He was about to open his mouth to protest- *Master I can't breathe!*- when Mace found what he was looking for.
Obi-Wan gave a silent cry of alarm and slammed down a mental shield that would have done Master Yoda proud. Mace, not to be thwarted, tentatively probed the shield, and found it to be made of adamantine will. Mace withdrew immediately.
"What are you concealing from me, Obi-Wan?" he asked. The amicability of his voice was gone, replaced by cold distrust and disappointment.
Obi-Wan struggled to speak, sniffling, knowing that his face was tear-streaked and his eyes red, knowing how it must seem. "It is nothing to do with the murders, Master Windu. You must believe me."
"I want to believe you, Obi-Wan, but you *are* hiding something from me." Mace was deftly admonishing and fond at the same time. He was, in the Jedi manner, skillfully manipulating Obi-Wan, and the worst part of it was that Obi-Wan knew all that was being done to him.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I am, yes. But....please believe me! I would show you if I could. I would."
"I ask you, as a Master and as a fellow Jedi, to tell me what it is you feel you must hide."
"I'm sorry, Master Windu. I can't."
Mace's eyes went hard and flinty, marbled with regret. There was no trace of gentleness in him now as he chose the path he had to follow to the truth.
"I'm sorry too, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan felt Mace's probe returning with renewed force. Pushing. Pushing. In another moment he would have that shield down and the door open and his mind would spill out like sweets from a ripped bag, exposing his soul to be picked clean like gulls through garbage. It was all walled up behind that shield; his nightmarish experience in the cave, Geen's love for him, his forbidden desire for--
*No! I won't let you see that!*
Unconsciously, his body twisted in pain against Qui-Gon, his smaller hands gripping the arms that held him and tearing the skin with his nails. A small, helpless whimper escaped his throat, shaming him deeply, then a stronger cry of protest and pain as Mace pushed harder against his mind, battering his will, pulling down the wall, opening his secret self....
*Oh gods, it is a rape, it is. Master, help me! Make him stop!*
And then, quite suddenly, it was gone. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Qui-Gon's arm shoot out to physically shove Mace several feet back.
"I said ENOUGH!" Qui-Gon thundered.
Through eyes puffed with tears, Obi-Wan could almost see the Force-enhanced tension between the two Jedi, the blues wisps of energy leaking from their auras and pooling about their feet in clouded shadows. He felt weak and drained as he sagged in his master's arms.
Mace straightened and brushed his robes with his palms, recovering his dignity. Around the chamber came muttered coughs of unease and disapproval at Qui-Gon's use of physical force, Yoda's among them.
"Your padawan leaves us with little choice, Master Jinn," Mace said.
"You're going to lock him up," Qui-Gon said tightly.
"It's a Force-sealed room only, Qui-Gon. Not a prison. He will not be mistreated."
"Like he has not been mistreated here!?" Qui-Gon shouted. "You think he's guilty. You thought it the first day. You've got your mind twisted around his guilt and you won't consider anything else. I never thought you capable of such pettiness, Mace."
Mace shook his head sadly and turned away in grave rebuke. "You wrong me, Qui-Gon Jinn. I would not harm your Padawan. You have no idea how much this pains me." Mace's eyes lingered on the distraught apprentice being supported by his master.
"Qui-Gon." It was Master Yoda's voice, a note of firm reason reaching through his anger. "I, it was, that allowed this, should your apprentice prove to be concealing knowledge from us. Not Master Windu. Defy me in this, will you?"
Qui-Gon hugged Obi-Wan to him, briefly pressing his cheek to the soft hair at the crown of his head. His eyes closed on a spasm of grief. "No."
Through a fog of disbelief, Obi-Wan heard Yoda signal to the Temple guards who were waiting at the door. Felt, in a daze, his Master releasing him. The guards caught him as he fell and bore him up between them. He managed one despairing glance at Qui-Gon.
"Master," he whispered.
"Go with them, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said lowly. His broad shoulders were slumped in defeat, and he would not look at him.
*He thinks I did it,* Obi-Wan thought. Devastation swept through him. "Master, I didn't.... I swear to you--"
"I said *go*!"
Obi-Wan flinched, hearing the pain and anguish in his master's voice, believing it was because of his presumed guilt.
With nothing more to lose, Obi-Wan Kenobi struggled to get his feet under him. He straightened, arching his spine proudly, and contemptuously shook off the guard clinging to his arm.
"I can walk," he said, unable to keep his voice from shaking, but taking satisfaction in his ability to stand and walk out of here with some shred of dignity. His eyes, still washed with unshed tears, raked the assembled masters.
"I didn't do it," he stated clearly. "I am innocent. Just because I won't let you fuck my mind doesn't make me a murderer."
He turned and strode from the Moot Hall, leaving the guards to hurry after him to direct him to his place of confinement. If he would have turned to look back, in that last instant before the great doors closed, Obi-Wan would have seen Qui-Gon staring after him with a profound and bitter pride.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12