PROLOGUE
"Who are you?"
Silence.
"What is your name?"
A long, excruciating silence.
"Where did you come from?"
A sideways glance. Subtle, but it's still there.
"Who sent you?"
Another glance. More obvious than the first.
"What is your mission?"
Finally, a reaction.
The prisoner, tall and lean, arches his brow before his face once again hardens and he releases a long, drawn–out sigh.
"Mission?" he repeats, exasperated by the endless line of questioning. "I already told you, I don't know what you're talking about. There's no mission…"
Yet another glance. A skeptical, distrusting look between his two interrogators.
"This is useless," the man says, his words impatient and slightly accented. "We've been at it for hours. Either he's telling the truth and he doesn't know anything, or he's a damn good liar."
The man's companion, standing in the shadows like an inert statue and peering through the darkness, studies their captive intently for a moment before speaking.
"I sense no deception or ill will in him," a strong, feminine voice eventually responds. "However, he does know something that he isn't telling us… even if he doesn't realize it himself."
Looking almost as confused by his partner's assessment as their prisoner, the man merely frowns and wearily runs his fingers through his graying hair.
"I'm getting too old for this," he mutters under his breath.
The woman takes another moment to carefully scrutinize their seated prisoner before proceeding.
Still unmoving. Still detached and hidden in the shadows.
"Tell me, what can you recall?" she finally asks. "You must remember something. Anything."
The prisoner hesitates, but only for a second. "I remember… a hooded figure. Its eyes were cold, probing. It wanted something from me."
Even through the dim lighting, he sees the woman nod. "Go on…"
"There was another figure," he continues, shifting in his chair. "It was large. Much larger than the other. It never spoke, but I could hear… breathing. Almost mechanical. When I first saw it, I thought it was a droid."
At this, the man's interest suddenly piques.
"What else?" he chimes in, attempting to mask his curiosity, but failing miserably.
The prisoner struggles to remember, but to no avail. His head is filled with vague images, shapes, sounds… nothing distinguishable. Nothing these people want.
Defeat. Frustration. Helplessness. Resignation.
"Nothing," his blunt answer comes slowly, quietly.
The man's face falls in disappointment, but he is quick to recover. "So, you're tellin' me that you have no idea who or what you are?"
Same questions. Different hour.
"Well?" he persists, refusing to relent. He expectantly folds his arms across his chest when he doesn't get the desired result.
An aggravated shake of the head.
"You want me to tell you? You really wanna know?" he asks at last; his voice eerily low and subdued. "Well, what would you say if I told you you're a dead man?"
The prisoner's posture stiffens. Was that meant as a threat?
"Don't…" the woman interjects, softly but firmly. "Now is not the time. We have asked enough questions for one day."
The man suspiciously narrows his eyes, but pivots on his heel and follows his partner when she calmly starts toward the door to the gloomy holding cell. Unable to resist the urge to steal one last glimpse, the mysterious woman slows her pace and steps aside while he exits the room. Pausing in the threshold, she briefly glances over her shoulder before turning and leaving their prisoner to himself.
Impossible.
Once outside, the bewildered Togruta turns to her companion as the single durasteel door slides shut behind them with a loud hiss.
"I don't know what to make of all this," the man exhales, visibly shaken and at a loss for words. "Could you get a read on the guy?"
A curt nod, no. A small gesture, but easily understood.
The man's frown deepens. "You believe him, then?"
A barely perceivable nod, yes. Faint, but just as easily understood.
"So, what do we do now?" he inquires.
"I don't know," his companion replies, honestly. "But this whole thing isn't right… and that is not Anakin Skywalker."
Author's Note:
First and foremost, I do not own Star Wars… not that anyone out there would ever make that mistake. Secondly, this story is meant to be a mystery – hence the lack of details in the description. I will say that it involves a few OC's, as well as a few characters that we're all familiar with.
Also, I suppose this fic could be considered canon (at least, until we find out what happens to one or two main characters post–Clone Wars). So, if you're willing to give it a chance, I hope you enjoy!
Cheers,
ThoseWereTheDays