Barriss had lost track of how long she'd been running. Ship's days and planet days and standard days never quite matched up and no sooner would she adjust to a new time frame than the fears would catch up with her and she'd be moving again.
At first she hadn't even known what had happened. She was in her cell with her ever present guards, watching and waiting, when the door had opened and they'd raised their blasters. Maybe they assumed she was helpless with the band around her neck that cut her off from manipulating the Force and no saber in hand. They should have known better, her Master had pushed her to study as much unarmed combat as she could, and she'd taken to it eagerly. To disarm and restrain without destroying had appealed back then, but the thought had always been there that just a little more pressure here, striking a bit higher there, and attacks meant to incapacitate could kill.
She'd left the bodies of her guards behind and escaped into the chaos.
When she found out the truth, her first shameful emotion was relief. She'd been cut off from the other Jedi, if they'd screamed she'd had no way to hear, and now who would be left to hunt her? Who would remember one traitorous former Jedi when all the Jedi were traitors and dead?
She discovered her mistake when she was nearly shot by a bounty hunter. Terrified and angry she fought him, and killed him. When she stopped shaking, she found the first tattoo artist she could to work black ink around the diamonds on her face, blacking them out and extending the stain up from her cheekbones to her hairline until she couldn't recognize herself, and she hoped no one else would either.
Barriss ran. She couldn't tell if the fear that vibrated through her core from the Force was her own weakness or a warning. She hopped the first ship heading away and never noticed the small droid clinging to the outside, watching her with a single glowing red eye.
The red blade was a surprise, black armor on black bodysuit and black helmet, slender and deadly as the saber they carried. Barriss fought, movements fueled by a stubborn desire to survive and a fear of reaching out to the Force. Fear that it would answer sweet and seductive and intoxicating and wrong. She had almost nothing left, but if she could die without falling it would be something.
The other was better, and better armed. Barriss found herself on the ground, the saber blade so close to her throat she feared to swallow. She stared at the black faceplate, feeling her lip curl in a snarl.
"Do it," Barriss hissed.
The hand behind the blade hesitated, then the figure was stepping back. Barriss blinked, and they were gone.
Barriss was hunted. Every time she turned around she expected the glow and hum of the red blade and that this time the bearer wouldn't hesitate. She wasn't hopeful enough to think they had given up.
It was almost a relief when she was walking alone and heard a hiss of sound behind her, almost turning around before there was a red glow by her cheek.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you?" The voice was harsh, mechanized, yet feminine.
"Stop toying with me," Barriss demanded, hoping she sounded less exhausted than she felt.
"You didn't answer my question," The blade didn't waver.
"Somehow I doubt my answer matters," Barriss started to turn around, but the blade flickered out and the figure vanished.
The third time Barriss encountered the figure it was light, light enough to see the fuchsia detailing on the black outfit, on the gloves gripping the odd circular edged lightsaber handle. And then the faceplate was sliding back, exposing the other's face.
"You're..." Barriss hesitated.
"Like you, Barriss Offee? Traitor to the Jedi order, murderer, shall I go on?" The voice was just as mechanized without the helmet, some sort of vocal implant no doubt.
"What do you want?" Barriss spoken evenly, meeting the strange yellow eyes.
"I want you," The other purred. "Aren't you tired of running? Tired of lurking in the shadows when you could be so much more? You could get revenge on those who wronged you,"
"Revenge is not..." The words came automatically, then Barriss stopped.
"The Jedi way? But what are you, Barriss Offee?" The other looked so smug and Barriss hated her, hated everything she stood for, nearly as much as she hated herself.
"I..." Barriss stopped, knowing the answer but unable to say it out loud.
"Welcome to the family, sister," The other spoke, reaching to stroke gloved fingertips over Barriss' cheek.
Barriss shuddered at the touch, and did not deny it.
She thought she knew how bad training would be, it was worse. Failure resulted in pain, and she drew from it to make herself stronger.
Once, when she was training with Eldest Brother, he thanked her, in a cultured Core accent that made her want to cut his tongue out. She wondered who he had been before the darkness swallowed him whole and left a shadow behind.
Seven came to her sometimes, in a mockery of tenderness. Barriss hated it, hated her, and needed it like air. The twisted affection kept her from going numb, a flicker of tainted light to keep the shadows their darkest. She was there when she came out of each surgery to fix the damages training left on her body.
Seven was there when she graduated, kneeling before Father to swear loyalty under the impassive gaze of his helmet. She came to her that night with white ink, kissing her cheeks and slowly drawing her diamonds back on, one by one for each of her new number, whispered her new name like a creed.
The Inquisitor who had once been known as Barriss wrapped her fingers so delicately around Seven's throat, and kissed her breathless.