Adumbration
by AlexPart 12
Belial lay on the narrow infirmary bed, staring up at the ceiling and humming cheerfully.
Jedi, he thought contemptuously. You're pathetic, the lot of you. So ready to believe the worst. You deserve to lose Qui-Gon.
Shaking his head, he sat up and heaved himself out of bed, strolling to the storage cabinets and pulling out his clothing.
Idiots.
He dressed and pulled Obi-Wan's boots on.
They fit perfectly, he thought. I'll have to thank Obi-Wan for breaking them in for me.
He smothered a giggle, and walked toward the door.
He was pulled up short by a tall human woman, quite old. Master Khadri, he surmised, flicking an idle glance at her.
"Padawan Kenobi?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing out of bed?"
He smiled and casually waved a hand. "I must leave. Excuse me."
The old woman snorted. "I don't think so, young man. Back into bed."
He frowned, and waved his hand again. "I don't require an examination."
Her face went blank for a moment, and then she scowled at him. "What do you think you're doing, Padawan?"
She was strong, and Belial grew frustrated. "Get out of my way."
She gave him a skeptical look, but spoke quietly. "You're not well, child. You've had a traumatic experience. I can help you. Now--" and she sent out a plume of healing Force--"please. Back into bed."
He pushed past her, then stopped, halted by a thin wall of Force. The hag, he thought furiously, and turned around, glaring at her.
Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her throat.
"How dare you?" he said, walking to her, standing eye to eye with her. Her face was paling, and her eyes bulged horribly. He caught the mental alarm and obliterated it before anyone was alerted.
She fell to the floor. Dispassionately he watched her convulse.
Her convulsions gradually lessened, became mere twitches.
Three, two, one...and they finally ceased.
Belial dragged her body over to the storage cabinets and propped it up against them.
He trotted out of the infirmary.
Qui-Gon stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan's room, looking around for the last time. He walked over to the young man's chest of drawers and scrutinized the collection of objects lined up neatly on its top. A small carving, a golden dragon of Abbadon. A k'hrah nest, tiny and perfect. Some holos...Obi-Wan and Bant. Obi-Wan and Reeft. Obi-Wan in mid-leap, his saber held aloft, executing the third kata.
One holo was set apart from the others.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan had been seventeen. The holo was from a mission, a wedding of sovereigns on Djais. They were both smiling broadly; Qui-Gon's arm was thrown about his apprentice's shoulders.
In front of the holo was the stone that Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan for his thirteenth birthday.
Qui-Gon turned abruptly and went to his own bedroom.
He stripped off his robe and knelt to meditate.
Peace would not come.
You are Jedi no more.
No more.
He rose and pulled some clothing out. He undressed, folding his Jedi tunics and leggings neatly, placing them at the foot of his sleep couch.
He dressed in dark clothing...his blue tunic, black boots and leggings. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his mouth twisted bitterly.
Your whoring clothes, he thought. How very apt. If he'd had other clothes, he would have worn them. But he did not, and could no longer call himself Jedi, and so would not appear as one.
I leave as I came, he thought. Empty-handed.
His eyes strayed to his own chest of drawers. There was only one item on it...a replica of the holo of himself and Obi-Wan. He took it and stared at it. Pressed it to his face.
/Obi-Wan.../
Consumed by grief, his soul cried out now, and he allowed his remorse to overwhelm him. He was unworthy of Obi-Wan, he knew it; the young man's fineness was like a brilliant beacon in gloom. Obi-Wan had always trusted him, even when Qui-Gon was in doubt. And he had betrayed him time and again, and when the reality of his feelings struck him he disregarded the boy's reactions.
I should have been watching him, instead of lusting blindly.
No...it was love. Love. It had to be. Lust did not break the heart.
And he had been truthful with Obi-Wan. He had shown him the truth of what lay in his soul. Obi-Wan was his heart's desire.
He looked at the holo again.
The Council would not hear him.
Would Obi-Wan hear him?
He had to try again. He was no longer a Jedi.
If he was compelled to leave, let him leave as a man.
He tucked the holo into his black robe and ran to the healing dome.
Belial made his way to the entrance to the Council chamber.
A droid stood in front of it.
"Can you tell me if Master Windu is still inside?" he inquired politely.
"The Council Chamber is unoccupied," responded the droid somewhat prissily.
"Oh, how convenient," replied Belial, reaching out and deactivating the droid in one fluid motion.
He pulled at the door. Locked. But simple enough to overcome.
He concentrated, sending tendrils of energy into the lock, bypassing the intricate coded failsafe. There was a tiny click. He slipped inside the Chamber and cast a wide net of Force, shielding himself from detection. He relocked the door, smiling. The Jedi Temple was built to withstand attackers from without, not saboteurs from within. This would be ridiculously easy.
He stepped to the center of the room. There was a pattern on the floor, inlaid stone. He shrugged off Obi-Wan's brown robe and dropped to the floor, looking intently at the center of the design.
Good. Good.
He focused again. The centermost stone rose slowly. It was cylindrical, about half a meter long. He levitated the stone towards him, set it down carefully. He powered up the Jedi's saber, a short, narrow beam of light... Slowly, patiently, he bored a hole into the stone. When it was about six centimeters deep, he withdrew a tiny object from a pocket.
A thermal detonator, no bigger than his thumbnail. Hideously expensive, but well woth it, the tiny baradium fusion device was virtually undetectable and had a blast range of thirty-five meters. It would disintegrate every last Council member, and there would not be the smallest particle of flesh or bone remaining. He would have preferred something more painful, but there could be no opportunity for escape.
He set the tiny trigger and adhered the device to the hollow he'd created in the stone.
With painstaking slownesss and care he replaced the stone. Baradium was unstable. A tiny jog, and he'd be the only one to be disintegrated.
Perfect. It was done. No dust, no chipping...nothing to indicate that anything unusual had transpired.
He stood up. It was time to leave.
Qui-Gon prowled the halls of the healing dome.
No Obi-Wan, though he saw a few Jedi he knew, who greeted him with familiarity.
No one knows yet, he thought. Just as well.
No one had seen Obi-Wan or Master Billaba. Irritated, Qui-Gon continued his search, burst into the short-term infirmary, heedless of propriety.
Empty. Damnation.
His eye caught a flash of brown robe across the room. He looked closely.
He ran to the storage cabinet, dropped to his knees.
Master Khadri. She'd tended Qui-Gon as a child...her eyes were wide, staring. Her face looked terrified. He rose, lifted her gently, and deposited her on the bed. He shut her eyes, and turned to the comm unit, to notify another of the healers.
As he made his way to the comm, he felt a ripple in the Force.
"Obi-Wan?"
He turned, following the faint trace.
Only a disarrayed bed. And yet...he walked to it.
On the floor next to it lay a discarded sleep tunic and leggings.
He picked the tunic up. He caught the scent of the soap that Obi-Wan wore.
He concentrated.
Darkness...
No!
/Obi-Wan!/
His hand flew automatically to his belt, felt nothing. Of course. He'd laid the saber on the floor of the Council chamber before he'd left. He cursed.
He all but ran through the halls of the healing dome.
He stopped everyone he saw. No one had seen Padawan Kenobi. Those who had seen Master Khadri had not seen her in some time. No, she'd been fine. What was wrong?
"Master Khadri is dead," he said tersely, not bothering to answer any more questions. Fear gnawed at his insides. Had someone abducted Obi-Wan, and killed Master Khadri? How in all the hells had they escaped undetected?
/Obi-Wan! Answer me!/
His fear turned to rage. Force help you if he's harmed when I find you, he thought.
Depa. Depa was the last one who'd seen Obi-Wan.
He tore through the Jedi Temple, to the Council Chamber.
Belial closed the door and relocked it.
No one had seen him. Good. The fewer people he had to kill, the better. He already regretted not disposing of the old woman's body more efficiently; then again, he reflected, her disappearance would cause more comment than her death. Let the Jedi think that Obi-Wan had killed her and run off, mad, despairing...given his supposed current state of mind, anything would be possible.
He started down the corridor that led out of the Council's rooms.
And was almost mowed down by Qui-Gon.
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's face was white, and his voice was harsh.
Damn it, Belial thought. He cast about for an appropriate reaction, all the while admiring the fit of Qui-Gon's clothes. You should dress like that all the time, Qui-Gon. Come to think of it, now you can...for a while, at least.
He stumbled back, feigning fear. "Stay away from me!"
Qui-Gon didn't move. "Obi-Wan!" he cried imploringly, holding his hands out. "Padawan-" He stopped, and Belial could read his thoughts.
Not anymore.
"I thought you'd been abducted, Obi-Wan. Master Khadri is dead, what are you doing here...what's happened?"
Belial watched him struggle for calm.
"Obi-Wan...what has happened?"
Belial fell to his knees again, sobbing. "Master--oh, Master!" He crumpled to the floor, weeping loudly. This is absurd, he thought. My knees are starting to bruise. But it was the fastest way to stave off questions. I don't suppose Kenobi's much of a weeper, thought Belial. Qui-Gon would be better equipped to deal with his tears.
He felt powerful arms lift him and carry him through the halls of the Temple.
Qui-Gon, thoroughly distressed, held his weeping apprentice--former apprentice, he corrected himself grimly--closely to him as he took the most untraveled route possible back to their quarters. He smiled wryly at himself, despite his pain.
I don't want anyone to think that I'm absconding with you, my love. I'm in enough disgrace as it is. Though that was precisely what he wanted to do...he wanted to disappear with his precious burden. He held Obi-Wan, who clung to him now, loving the feel of his strong arms, of his body, the curve of thigh, hot under his hand, the muscular sweep of back...
Stop! he all but screamed at himself. Why do you think you've been expelled from the Order? Why do you think you're fleeing from curious eyes? He'll never be yours again. Look at him; he clings to you, his former Master, his teacher...his rapist. You will never make love to him again. You will never be his master again. The bond is dead. Pray that Obi-Wan will overcome the deficiency you inflicted upon him, that you haven't damaged him irreparably.
He arrived at their door, carried the young man inside, into his room, lay him upon his sleep couch.
Obi-Wan had fallen into a fitful semiconsciousness. He curled up on the couch, murmuring to himself. Tears wetted his cheeks.
Qui-Gon, stricken with grief and guilt, knelt beside Obi-Wan, stroking his hair and his back. His eyes filled. Dear Padawan...what I've done to you, he thought.
But perhaps now...
He decided. Now.
He lay his hands upon the youth.
/My love...my dearest...I meant you no harm. I only wished for us to love one another./
He concentrated, felt the Living Force. The Unifying Force.
They coalesced, and flowed together as one.
The energy was almost visible as it poured out of Qui-Gon, from his soul, through his body. It was like light bleeding from his fingertips...warm golden Light, and love in its purest form. Selfless. Giving. Undemanding. Truthful. Blinding, dazzling love, and Qui-Gon rejoiced as he felt a crack in the wall of Obi-Wan's defenses.
At last, Obi-Wan would know.
Belial was unprepared. His eyes flew open.
Qui-Gon snatched his hands away.
Obi-Wan sat up, his eyes slitted and full of malice.
Qui-Gon stood. He'd felt the Darkness.
"Obi-Wan..."
He couldn't go on. He was cold all over.
Obi-Wan ignited his saber, pointed it at Qui-Gon's chest, backed him into the common room.
"Oh, gods," whispered Qui-Gon. "What have I done?"
To his utter shock, Obi-Wan laughed. "Not a thing...Master."
"Padawan...please..."
"Pleasant as it is to hear you address me so affectionately, Qui-Gon," the young man replied, "I must correct your error. I am not your Padawan."
"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon was dumbfounded. How long had Obi-Wan been a servant of Darkness...months, years? Was it possible?
Obi-Wan held Qui-Gon a saber's length away and moved to the comm unit.
"I am not your padawan," he repeated, "though I must say I almost wish I were. Behold..." and he opened himself up to Qui-Gon's mental probing.
The darkness flowed, oily, molten, frigid, overwhelming.
Qui-Gon recoiled in horror. Not Obi-Wan! Not his beloved padawan! A similar Force signature, to be sure...similar enough to go unnoticed by a careless master...but underneath, the taint of Darkness, noisome, dreadful. And...a clone. Forbidden, a theft of life to create life...this time for the sake of evil. From his own apprentice...
Obi-Wan!
"What have you done with my padawan?" His voice was soft, deadly. He looked at the saber the clone held in his hands...it was Obi-Wan's. He'd watched the boy build it. His heart clenched, and a fear and rage he'd never known before overwhelmed him. He moved into a ready stance.
"Careful, Qui-Gon," the clone said, his eyes dancing gleefully. "I hold his life in my hands."
"Where is he?" Qui-Gon's voice grew even softer.
The clone grinned and hit some switches on the comm unit.
The hologram swelled to life-size, a clear, perfect resolution.
A young Zabrakian, standing at attention...
...and at his feet, Obi-Wan. Naked. Bound. A collar around his throat, and a bruise on one cheek. He appeared to be unconscious.
The Zabrakian prodded his captive with a booted foot. Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open.
He hurt.
His ribs were on fire, and all his muscles were aching unbearably. One shoulder was on the verge of separation, and he felt nauseated. He'd withstood the presence of Belial's Master as long as he could before unconsciousness claimed him. His body was weakened, and his soul was weakening. The presence was so powerful. He wasn't sure he could fight another assault.
He felt the foot in his spine.
Let me be, he thought. Let me lie here. Or kill me.
Again the foot, harder, against his injured shoulder, and the sudden sharp flare of pain made him open his eyes.
There was a blue glow. A hologram.
Belial. And Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon! His master, held at bay by his student's saber.
He struggled for breath.
"Master!" he cried, trying to rise on one elbow. The pain and his bonds made it impossible.
Qui-Gon was staring at him, and there was no sound...
Damn you, Belial...
Qui-Gon's mouth moved, and though there was silence, he could tell what Qui-Gon had said.
"Obi-Wan."
He felt a rush of terror and exhilaration seize him. Qui-Gon was unarmed. Obi-Wan had watched him lay his saber down. Would Belial kill him now?
He rolled over, and it hurt him, the pressure on his arms, oh gods, did it hurt, but he bore it, looked at the guard.
"Please," he begged. "Don't let him kill Qui-Gon. Please."
"It's not for me to decide, Jedi."
Obi-Wan turned back to the image of his master. Qui-Gon's eyes never left him, and he felt an inexplicable joy for all the danger he was in. Qui-Gon stood there, so unafraid, so calm...so noble, the most wondrous sight that Obi-Wan had ever seen, heedless of the glowing saber mere centimeters from his chest, unconcerned for his own well-being. His eyes were fixed upon his Padawan, full of anxiety. And love.
This may be my last opportunity, he thought, and he spoke.
"Master...love you. I love you."
Qui-Gon smiled at him. He opened his mouth to speak.
The hologram disappeared.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reached out with the last of his fading strength.
Protect him. Help him.
He almost smiled. He could die now. Happily.
They would not turn him.
Never.
The hologram went out, and Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the clone, who was regarding him with an odd expression on his face.
"How long?" he inquired, his voice deceptively mild.
"Since the day you first fucked me," said the clone sneeringly.
"You planted the holodisc for the Council."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That's not your concern."
"Who are you?"
"You may call me Darth Belial."
Qui-Gon nodded. A Sith. Why not, he thought wearily. What else could there be?
"What do you want with my apprentice?"
"He's my apprentice now...Qui-Gon."
"Hardly a willing one, I think," Qui-Gon said dryly.
"All in good time."
"I doubt that very much."
"You do?" said the clone mockingly. "Very soon now, Qui-Gon...he's close to breaking. I can feel it. The bond between us has replaced his bond with you. He suffers so beautifully, Qui-Gon, so beautifully. You've trained him well. But he will break. Every time he feels a surge of hope, there I am...crushing it. And he responds so well!" the clone laughed, and brandished the saber at Qui-Gon. "Ah...careful, there. I see you preparing. In any case, he's mine now. You relinquished your right to him years ago."
"I had no right to him."
"Words," replied the clone calmly. "I'm weary of this, Qui-Gon." He raised his saber to attack position.
"You would strike down an unarmed man?"
"I am no Jedi."
"Indeed you are not."
"Neither are you, remember?" Belial snarled. "You were a marvelous fuck, but you've outlived your usefulness."
Qui-Gon waited.
"Why won't you attack me, Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon's eyes bored into him, blue steel.
"Release my apprentice," he said. "Do as you wish with me."
"I'll do as I wish anyway, you damned fool."
"Release him," Qui-Gon pressed, pushing a wave of Force toward the clone. Not compulsion. Light, and love.
"Stop that!"
"He will never turn to Darkness. You know that."
"He's turning already. He'll join me, and sooner than you think."
"No."
"Yes!" The saber wavered.
"I love him, Belial." Qui-Gon's voice was like a caress.
"That's why I'm going to kill you," the clone whispered.
"And he loves me."
"Shut UP!" Belial cried. His mouth shook.
"Light and love. He is strong in the Force...you must know that. But he is a true Jedi. He will never turn."
"He will, you stupid, arrogant fool..."
"Have you ever known love, Belial?"
The clone gave an enraged cry, and at that moment Qui-Gon sprang.
But Belial was quicker. He deactivated his saber, and smashed Qui-Gon across the face with all his might. As Qui-Gon fell, Belial sent a dark current of energy into him, rendering him unconscious.
Belial knelt and examined him. He bent down and kissed Qui-Gon's unresponsive mouth fiercely. "I know love, Qui-Gon," he whispered. He stood, and viciously kicked the unconscious man in the thigh. He sobbed and ignited the saber again, raised it above his head.
And swung it into the comm unit. There was a crashing, sizzling noise, and sparks flew crazily.
He deactivated the saber and threw it down beside Qui-Gon's inert form.
"Sleep," he hissed. "Sleep. And if you do manage to wake up, I'll send Obi-Wan to cut your throat."
He swiped angrily at his eyes and stalked out.
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