Sparks means a lot to me, not only insofar as it was enjoyable to write, but because it opened doors for me as a writer and as a human being. Yes, it's old, and yes, there are many errors that I'd like to change someday. But for now, I felt that the 2013 rewrite of the 2012 original should have its own space on the internet, just as it's earned a space in my life and in my heart. I hope you appreciate this drinking game fodder. Enjoy.
Written by Cloverfrost Locke and Mai Lynn Bennet / Rated T for infrequent course language and adult themes.
Star Wars and all related characters, elements and indicia are trademarks of and copyrighted by Lucasfilm.
Part One—Falling
There was a slap of a boot on wet concrete. The sound of laboured breathing could be heard above the distant rumble of traffic and the hiss of ventilation systems. It all added to the symphony of terror that was overlaid by a deafening silence. The silence that was more frightening than the screams she should have been hearing.
Someone's got to be following me. It can't be this easy. The girl in question was short, pale, had delicate features with green eyes and dark hair. She had previously stolen a speeder in an attempt to escape her father's rage, but she had to abandon it soon after. She could only hope that he would send someone after her. The alternative was worse.
A soft chuckle rang through the alleyway, bounding off the towering walls, making it impossible to locate the source. It sounded close. Felony stopped in her tracks, panting. "Who's there?" This was probably the most stupid thing she could have said in hindsight, as the ones who ask are always the first to be killed. But fear numbed her mind, allowing only the first and simplest phrases through. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to swallow.
The figure at the top of one of the more low buildings smirked. This Sith was a weakling. A weakling's mind was easily fooled. Jumping from its place with the aid of the Force, Felony saw its cloak billowing in the wind as it descended. An azure length of concentrated light appeared next to it. It reached the ground and the hood lowered to reveal a woman, twenty or so, shining hazelnut eyes and chocolate hair.
Felony took one step back but activated her own lightsaber, a red glow joining the blue. "What do you want, Jedi?" Although weak and tired, her voice still held the same menacing edge that she so treasured.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing." It was obvious this Sith was a rookie. She took a step towards her target.
Felony took another back, but it was in the wrong direction. Sanguinar could catch up with her any moment. She didn't know where she was running, she just knew it was away from here. She thought of begging the Jedi to let her go. She didn't understand the circumstances. Desperation gripped the girl's limbs. Please, please. "Let me pass," she managed.
There was another one of those ghostly chuckles. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, if I was to then you'd get away. Defeating my purpose."
This was a different Jedi to those she had met before, Felony realised. She was taking amusement in her fear.
The Sith in Felony took over, replacing fear and desperation with a core emotion—anger. She began to hate the very existence of this pathetic Jedi.
She doesn't understand. How can she ever understand what I feel?
"I said, get out of my way!" she screeched, all traces of patience gone. She raised her lightsaber fiercely and brought it down upon the woman, who raised her own weapon. Blue met red in a flash of sparks. They struggled for a while before the Jedi spun around, catching the scarlet blade again, but this time above the girl as she had tried once again to strike. She pushed and her strength came out on top as Felony was forced to take her lightsaber away, take a few steps back and retake an offensive position, which in the circumstances wasn't very fitting.
The woman laughed at the girl's feeble attempts to fend her off. "The Sith have lost their touch. I've never met such a weakling." Flicking her wrist, she yanked Felony's lightsaber out of her grasp, deactivating it instantly. She flung the girl back into the wall opposite with the Force, knocking her unconscious.
A breeze stirred in the alleyway as the Jedi caught her breath before crouching down next to Felony and securing her wrists in cuffs. She moved away a bit of the hair to get a better look at her face. She didn't look any older than fifteen, sixteen perhaps. Still a padawan by Jedi standards. Pity softened the woman's eyes a little.
Lifting her communicator to her lips, Callia called for backup to transport the young Sith back to Courascant.
—
Felony blinked, hatred making her gaze sparkle. Her breathing was heavy, like a spooked horse's. She was scared and she struggled to hide it. It was a weakness of the mind.
She glanced around at the assortment of Jedi around her. Most humanoid, but some were of species she had never seen. She just was thankful that this wasn't the famed 'Jedi High Council'. Then she really would die of shame. Her eyes darted to the wall, the woman with the brown hair leaning against it casually, watching her with interest.
"Sanguinar Serano is your master, correct?" a voice sounded near the front of the gathering.
Felony kept her voice steady. "Yes." It was obvious to Callia that she was trying desperately not to reveal anything more than she was already being forced to.
The man nodded. "How old were you when you were apprenticed?"
Felony was silent. To her credit, she didn't flinch away from his gaze.
'Master Den'an is talking to you, girl!" one of the other members told her harshly, as if she hadn't heard. This made her blood boil.
"If you wish to get information out of me, then at least talk to me as an adult, not as an ignorant child." she hissed.
The second Jedi shook his head. The first one held her attention. "And yet, a child you still are."
Felony hadn't been expecting this remark and took a sharp intake of breath. Callia noted this with vague amusement.
"Just answer the question," the first said impatiently. They had been trying to get answers out of Felony for the past three hours, and the girl was being surprisingly stubborn and very uncooperative.
Felony lifted her head to the audience. They leaned forward expectantly, eager for a straightforward answer so they could all go home. "I chose to join. I was fifteen." she said simply.
"Not recruited?" Master Den'an noted. "How did you choose to join if you weren't recruited, then?"
She paused. You don't have to tell them anything. They're Jedi, it's not like they'll torture you. It would be a blessing if they did… "What if I don't want to answer these questions?" she asked finally, testing them to see how far she could go before they gave up.
"Because, Ms K'tani," there was a voice from behind. Felony turned to look at Callia. She advanced out of the shadows, arms folded. "None of us are leaving until you answer every single one. And trust me - this floor is not the most comfortable of beds. So start singing, Princess." Felony glared at her in resentment.
They don't need to know that I'm my master's daughter. Not yet. They can find that out for themselves if they're so bloody interested. "I attracted attention. Made a fuss. One stunt makes all the difference." She made it clear that she was not going into any further detail. No one pursued it for fear of missing an extra few hours' sleep.
"So you were fifteen," Callia interrupted the silence, circling Felony, arms still folded. The girl followed the Jedi with her gaze. "Young, your whole life ahead of you. And yet, when someone comes up and offers you a place on the Dark Side, you accept right away. What was so… appealing about the Dark Side that made you go without complaint?" Her questions scorched the air, certain there was something more at play here. A bit of physical persuasion, I should think.
Felony considered this before formulating an answer she was happy with. "Respect," she said simply. Callia raised an eyebrow. "No one understood the real me, so I sought those that did. Is that so hard to believe?"
Callia stopped circling. She stood eye-to-eye with Felony, confident in the fact that she was securely held. She was an inch taller than the girl, and Felony had to tip her head a little to hold the Jedi's gaze. "If I heard that from any normal sixteen-year-old, then I'd believe them. But you're no ordinary sixteen-year-old, are you, Ms K'tani?"
Felony lunged at the woman with all her strength, and Callia stepped back calmly, out of reach. Felony slumped in the grasp of the chains, heart racing. A susurration could be heard from the surrounding audience.
"That's enough, Callia." a firm voice told her. "We'll leave this case for the moment." There was a collective sigh of relief. The woman stepped back again, obeying the older Jedi's command. "Guards, take her to the holding cells. We shall reconvene in the morning." Two clones closed around on Felony's upper arms, dragging her away from the room. Callia stared after her, shaking her head.
The clones received little struggle from Felony on the way there. She would give the occasional protesting squirm, but they held her tight. Cold seeped into her bones as soon as they led her to the cell. One of them stayed inside with her whilst the other left. She sighed and laid down. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep. She knew it wouldn't come, but the back of her eyelids was a better sight than the cell interior.
—
Callia stood on the far side of the room, studying the girl as she slept. Something didn't add up. How could one so young become so corrupt? The gentle rise and fall of her flanks told of a thinking and feeling being, her face no longer distorted by hatred, but a peaceful expression that, it seemed, only sleep could give the girl. She was surprised to see her lips move without her expression changing. "What do you want, Jedi?"
Callia snorted. "Trying to create a sense of déjà vu, are we, Princess?"
Felony growled. "Why don't you leave me in peace?"
"Peace? I would hardly call this peace."
Felony rolled over, ignoring her remark. "Go away." This Jedi is starting to get on my nerves.
Callia sighed. "Look, Princess-"
"And stop calling me that!"
"-I know you won't open up to them, but you can talk to me. I was a girl just like you once, well, not really like you, but… besides, if you talk to me, we don't have to go through what happened last night again. The choice is yours."
Felony pulled herself into a tighter ball. What's the point? Sanguinar wants me dead. I can't find another master to continue my training and I certainly can't continue on my own. "I'm not going to talk, so why don't you just kill me already? Get it over and done with."
Callia shook her head with the girl's attitude. "Killing you will do us no good, and I think you know that. I'll say it again, Princess—either you tell me or everyone, and they will get the information they want. They always do."
Felony rolled her eyes in annoyance. "That's right. The Jedi always get what they want." she muttered bitterly. Despite herself, she sighed and murmured, "What do you want to know?"
Callia smiled, satisfied. "You said he found you. Made a big fuss. What made you so special, out of all the others that could have been chosen, it was you."
Felony wondered if her numb mind could come up with an acceptable story quick enough. Instead, she went for the vague approach. "I revealed myself for who I was. Sanguinar saw a darkness in me that no one else understood. I was an outcast for it, until he gave me a place by his side. He's the first one to ever encourage me as I truly am." That seemed good enough.
The woman paused, wondering how to respond to this without breaking whatever spell she had apparently lain on the stubborn teenager to get her to speak. "You have a way with the Force, as do many. But those with the gift, however faint, are taken in and trained. How did we miss you?"
Felony remained silent. Because I was born and raised in an Imperial household, perhaps? She left the silence there, hanging in the air as Callia waited for a response. When she got none, she sighed. "I only want to help you, Felony. I don't want innocent blood on my hands. If you agree to work with us, you could be a powerful asset to the Jedi."
Not if I am dead. Felony ignored her for a few moments more before she heard the knight sigh and her footsteps echoed all the way out. The door slid closed behind her. Felony jumped up off the bed with sudden ferocity and banged on the door, her face close to the window. "You don't own me, you hear, Jedi?" she shouted after Callia. After she had seen the woman round the corner and out of sight, she walked away from the door with gritted teeth and sat down on the bed, putting her head in her hands. She merely gave a second glance to the clone who stood ever to attention at the side wall, waiting to detain her if she tried to escape.
—
As Callia watched the guards drag the girl into the room the next day, she noticed something was off almost immediately. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what. The girl had deep red scars running up and down her arms and face, scars that had definitely not been there before. They were badly cut as if a very blunt blade had been used, but more pressure had been applied. She wondered with astonishment where the hell they could have come from. It was quite obvious that it had sparked interest throughout the gathering. The girl's head was hanging, presumably in shame or exhaustion.
Before anyone had a chance to ask, the droid on her left stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir," he addressed Master Den'an, who seemed to be the leader of the operation. "I tried to stop her. I confiscated the weapon before she could do any real damage." He walked forward a few paces and handed the Jedi a glint of silver with a white handle. Dried blood stained the edge of the blade. The droid stepped back and Den'an looked at the thing he had been given with puzzlement. Others leaned forward to try and make something of it. He held it up to the light.
"It's a butterknife," was his conclusion. He glanced past the cutlery in his hand to the girl. "You tried to kill yourself with a butterknife." It was more of a statement than a question, as if he was trying to clear it up for himself. Realisation of Felony's desperation hit Callia like a brick wall.
Felony slowly raised her head. Her gaze was burning with more venom than ever before, daring the company to speak. The deepest scar ran down her left eyelid and onto her cheek. It was quite prominent. Blood made her eyelashes stick together. Callia was struck by firstly her gaze, then secondly how miraculous that the guard had got to her before her determination had gotten the better of her and she really had done some damage.
"I wish to address the gathering," Felony said in a moderate tone. Den'an raised an eyebrow but nodded. "The kindness you have shown to me in the past few hours is not welcome. Kill me now, or I swear I will do it myself."
A startled murmur ran though the ranks. Den'an blinked calmly. "This gathering does not issue death sentences."
"Surely you must know that?" one female Jedi added with shock.
"Then you are as weak as the Empire says." Felony growled.
One member stood up. "That does not show weakness, young Miss K'tani. It shows heart." There was a general agreement before he sat down again.
"My master has taught me it is a weakness. And why should I believe you over him? You're the enemy." she spat. Den'an sighed. He was beginning to dislike this case immensely. He decided to press on with the questioning.
"When Knight Corday intercepted you, you were running. What we want to know is why. And what from." The rest of them nodded, and Callia straightened up, waiting to hear what she had to say.
"I don't have to answer anything," Felony mumbled, if only to herself, staring once more at the ground. Only, what was there left to lose? She kept her mouth closed in any case, and the gathering knew better than to prompt her on. They watched every small move she made, twenty pairs of eyes monitoring every breath. Callia sighed inwardly. Come on, Princess.
Den'an sighed also, but far more audibly. The rest relaxed, as if broken from some trance. "You have much to learn. You need more training before you are ready to face Sanguinar."
The words shocked the assembly. The plan was practically spelled out for them. Use the girl to defeat her own master. And then who knows what she will achieve? "It will be hard." he caught Felony's eye and jerked his head up as a gesture for her to do the same. Her chin rose ever so slightly. "But you will do it." He was sick of this girl and wanted to get her case over and done with. "And your master will be young Callia here."
Callia had been watching the exchange with interest. It took a few moments for this latest input of the one-way conversation to register. She turned to him. "Hold on. Did you just say… for me to be her master?" Hopefully she had heard him wrong. Yes, that was it.
"My god you can't be serious," Felony shook her head incredulously.
Den'an regarded Callia with an air of amusement. "No, you heard me correctly, Master Corday." he glanced at Felony. "And you have no say in this. Not only are you a prisoner of the Republic but you are also a waste of my time." he said dismissively. He nodded to the clones to release her.
As soon as she was freed from the cold metal, Felony rubbed her wrists and glanced fugitively at the door for what was less than a micro-second. Callia took a warning step forward. She could see the girl's plan forming in her eyes, and she didn't like it.
Felony shot a look to Callia, and sprinted to the exit.
"Stop her!" Den'an shouted at the stunned clones. After Callia rocketed out of the room, clones hard on her heels, he sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He would be glad if he never saw that girl again.
—
And Felony didn't stop. She just kept on running as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran until a stich formed in her side. She heard the shouts of the now Jedi Master, but this only drove her faster. Around corners and up stairs until she encountered a particularly attentive clone who knew something was up. "Come here, missy," He picked her up firmly around the waist, light as a feather to him.
"Let go of me!" Felony struggled in his grasp, and managed to wriggle out and drop to the ground. She sprinted to the next hallway, then down a corridor to a balcony that looked over the never-ending city. She stopped abruptly at the railing, her torso leaning over. She glanced behind her and knew that Callia was in hot pursuit.
Without any further thought, she clambered onto the railing and gripped the metal bars. Looking down, the drop was sickeningly high. Wisps of cloud hung in the air around the building. She dangled her legs over the edge and slid sideways down the bars until her fingers were level with the floor.
Callia was directed by another clone to the balcony, where she could see the fingertips of her new padawan. Oh no. She ran with horror to the girl.
Felony looked up to see Callia crouching at the edge of the floor, reaching down with one hand, desperately trying to grab her arm. She stopped as soon as she saw the look in the younger girl's eyes. Her next words gripped her with a feeling she had never encountered before.
"Do you think I can do it?" Felony whispered, the truth of her own decision reaching her. She looked down once more and her fingers slipped further down the rail. She looked up with renewed horror. "I'm scared." she admitted.
Callia took pity on the girl instantly. She was cold on the outside, but inside she was just that. Scared. "Come on, Princess. Let's bring you back up." she told her softly. If worse came to worse, she could always use the Force to save her, but in that way the padawan could just try again. She had to convince her that this wasn't the right course of action.
A sharp wind whipped at Felony's feet. She hung on tighter and squeezed her eyes shut. Would it hurt, just to let go? Would she feel anything when she hit the ground? Or would the fall kill her before she even got that far? Her fingers screamed at her in pain, having to hold up all of her weight.
Her fingers were sliding. She had changed her mind. This wasn't right. Should she give up this easily? At the wrong moment, the plan she wanted to reverse was now falling into place.
At any moment now, she wouldn't have any grip on the bars, and she would let go, and she would receive peace…
She felt a hand grip her wrist.
"Hold on, Princess, I'm bringing you back," was the voice of Callia above her. Felony was slowly raised from the clutches of the wind. She pulled on the metal with one hand whilst Callia raised the other. She hovered over the railing before collapsing on the other side, breathing heavily. Callia crouched by her. "Are you all right?"
Felony moved away from her, and tried to get to her feet. She stumbled before eventually standing up on shaky legs. She walked past Callia, back into the building, looking liable to fall over at any moment. "Show me to my room," she said quietly.
Callia turned to the clones, also trying to catch her breath. "Make sure there are no sharp objects when she gets there, all right?" she commanded before going off after her padawan.
As she watched, two more clones came up behind the girl and cuffed her before taking her arms once more. They seemed to receive no resistance this time, the girl was so shaken.
Felony swallowed. What had she just tried to do? What had she almost done? She decided then and there that she wouldn't think about it anymore, and she hoped Callia wouldn't bring it up anytime soon.
Callia took Felony to her room, which was right next to her own, in complete silence. She understood Felony was unlikely to want to talk about it, so she merely left her in the room on her own, after showing her how to contact her new master if needed, and of course a quick inspection of the room's suitability. With relief she found no cutlery whatsoever, and the doors to the balcony were deadlocked.
She reached the door and glanced back one last time to the girl, who was sitting on the bed with her arms around her middle, head down. Callia shook her head.
What am I going to do with you?