And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for--
Chapter Seven: Dark Beginning
"Get up, boy. Your punishment begins now," Qui-Gon stood over Obi-Wan, his face pulled back in a sneer. He brandished the electric prod, making Obi-Wan cringe. That instrument was not fun to wake up to, and now that he was fully awake, he could feel the pain left over from his last encounter with the jabbing edge. Obi-Wan half wondered what was wrong with Qui-Gon–and then recalled his strange "dream" the night before.
Obi-Wan was not moving fast enough for Qui-Gon this morning, a fact that seemed to please the Jedi Knight. As Obi-Wan slowly rose, Qui-Gon hit him sharply with the prod again, sending Obi-Wan sprawling to the floor.
"I said get up."
Obi-Wan swallowed, tasting bile in the back of his throat, and stood quickly. He met Qui-Gon's eyes–the older Jedi's face twisted into a frightfully hateful expression as he stepped forward, prod raised. Obi-Wan stepped back and lowered his eyes, halting Qui-Gon's approach. Submissiveness was the key, he had to remember that. He couldn't imagine how deep Qui-Gon's hatred stemmed...and seeing his kind master in such fury shook Obi-Wan to the very core, no matter how prepared he was for it.
"Why haven't you made our morning meal?"
Obi-Wan blinked. He wasn't exactly the greatest cook, didn't Qui-Gon know that? His silence angered Qui-Gon, who slammed him up against the wall. "I am hungry, boy. If you don't get me food in the next five minutes, I'll add three hours onto your punishment." He released Obi-Wan. The boy ran to the door, receiving a painful shock from the prodder as he passed Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan hurriedly cut some fruit up into small, bite size pieces. He added a half-loaf of bread to the tray and poured water into two glasses. He took the tray over to the small table and began setting it for two places.
"What do you think you are doing, vermin? You're not eating today," Qui-Gon sneered.
Obi-Wan swallowed. "Not eating? But–"
"SILENCE. YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD. I don't know what's gotten into you, but your sudden bout of defiance is both exasperating and exciting. I will break you again, boy. And the next time you forget the appellation, I'll break one of your fingers. Now go stand in the corner while I eat."
Obi-Wan obeyed. He sighed softly. He wondered what his Qui-Gon was doing at that very moment...and what Owen was doing. The day hadn't even begun for Obi-Wan, and yet he was beginning to dread it.
Qui-Gon finished his breakfast and Obi-Wan cleared the table. As soon as he'd finished, Qui-Gon informed Obi-Wan that they were going to a training room deep within the heart of the Temple. As they left their apartment, Obi-Wan started to walk next to his Master, as an equal, but the older man shoved him back. "You are not worthy to be in my view," the Jedi said.
As they walked to the training room, Obi-Wan couldn't help but look around in wonder. This Temple was decorated much differently than the warm, calming Temple he knew so well. The design was the same, the architecture, but the feeling...it was colder here, more formal. In these corridors, Obi-Wan was used to feeling a sense of belonging and friendship. Here all he felt was strictness, formality. It was strange. And everything was the same, everything. The rooms didn't differentiate according to the settings of the occupant, each occupant was human, so there were no deviations, like Bant's humid, steaming room.
"Obi-Wan!"
Obi-Wan looked around, trying to see who had called him. More importantly, he tried to convey the worry he was feeling with his eyes. Surely Qui-Gon was just as violent in public...
But no. Qui-Gon stopped abruptly, and Obi-Wan nearly ran into him. The Jedi Knight turned around and Obi-Wan stared up at him nervously.
"Obi-Wan, why don't you stay here and catch up with your friends, I'm sure they are anxious to hear how you are feeling. Meet me at training room seven at ten sharp. Do. Not. Be. Late."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied in confusion. Talk about your mood swings, Qui-Gon's tone hadn't been harsh or rude or abrupt at all. But Obi-Wan knew that as soon as he entered that training room, he would not be treated so well.
He turned around and nearly fell over. There, standing behind him, was a young girl. She was beautiful, her face was pale and lovely, her eyes a vibrant shade of green. Her head was covered with a long, smooth mane of blonde hair. Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful, not even the moons of Iego.
"Obi-Wan, silly, what are you staring at? Shut your mouth, before a whizzer flies into it!"
Obi-Wan swallowed and grinned at the girl. "Hi. Are you...are you Bant?"
"Of course I'm Bant, dolt! Who else would I be? Are you sure you're fully recovered from your training accident?"
"Training accident? ...Oh. Right. Yeah, I'm fine. Bant. I mean. Wow, Bant. Wow."
Bant frowned. "You sure are acting weird, did you hit your head? Maybe there's brain damage they didn't detect."
Obi-Wan grinned. Deciding to get to the bottom of the mean Qui-Gon deal, Obi-Wan cautiously asked, "hey Bant, what's wrong with Qui-Gon? Why is he so awful?"
Bant looked confused. "What are you talking about? Master Jinn is one of the nicest Jedi I know."
"Are you serious!? It's not possible! He's like, a ...Dark Jedi."
Bant looked as though she wanted to either smack Obi-Wan or cry. "Obi-Wan, you seriously must be hurt worse than they thought. Qui-Gon Jinn has always been the most polite Jedi, he's the kindest and the most understanding. You have no idea how many Padawans would kill for your Master. He's always treated you kindly, anyway. He always takes you straight to the hospital when you get hurt, and he's always by your side while you're recovering. How could you say he was mean like that? Something must have seriously scrambled your brains."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Forget it." Qui-Gon must have put on some show to fool everyone in the Temple like they had Bant. Bant was not an easily fooled person anyway. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Bant!"
Obi-Wan and Bant turned to the source of the call. There was a boy running towards them as fast as he could go, which wasn't very fast. The boy was a little chubby and his face drooped. "Bant, Master Gallia wants you in class, now!"
"Okay Reeft, I'm coming. Don't give yourself a heart attack." Bant turned to Obi-Wan and smiled at him. "I'll see you later, Obi-Wan. Have fun in training today." She punched him playfully and ran off, Reeft struggling to keep up.
Obi-Wan stared after her for a while, then glanced down at his chrono. 9:55. He had to hurry, Qui-Gon was undoubtedly waiting for him, and he surely didn't want to be late. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, then took off running, dodging other junior Padawans on their way to classes. He thought he saw a short, Yoda-like human in a classroom, but he didn't have time to stop and gape, as he wanted to.
At 9:59, he stood outside training room seven, staring up at the softly glowing blue number that named the room. He knew Jedi weren't supposed to be afraid, but he sure was. This Qui-Gon seemed more dangerous than any foe Obi-Wan had ever encountered before. Obi-Wan would have believed that, instead of his Qui-Gon, this Qui-Gon had taught Xanatos his ruthlessness. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, steeling himself, and stepped quietly into the room.
He opened his eyes as the door shut behind him, blinking in surprise. He half wondered if he truly had opened his eyes–the room was pitch black and there were no sounds of life.
"Light command," Obi-Wan's voice wavered. "Lights on."
"Access denied," the computer's indifferent voice answered, "password required."
Maybe Qui-Gon wasn't here yet. Obi-Wan turned and pressed the command to open the door.
"Access denied," the computer repeated. "Password required."
Obi-Wan felt frustration welling up inside him. This waiting, this suspense, it was killing him. He wanted OUT of this situation, of this whole world. He grit his teeth and a sort of strangled yell escaped his throat. He stepped deeper into the room, even though he couldn't see anything. He tried to stretch out with the Force, but it eluded him. It seemed his frustration was choking off his control, as well as his grasp of the Force.
A hard blow to his head knocked him on his backside. Qui-Gon. Fear attacked Obi-Wan, overwhelming him in its tight grasp. He lost his breath, gasping, as a kick to his ribs rolled him over. "Master, please. Please."
An overwhelming Force-blow to his head made his eyes close involuntarily. He lost grasp of where he was, and lay there, limp, unable to move. He felt himself being pulled up, leaned against something hard. Felt his wrists being clapped into something, his ankles trapped, so that he was standing in a spreadeagle position. Well, not standing, hanging, he still couldn't find his feet, couldn't quite remember which muscles to manipulate so he could stand.
The lights came on, although he didn't remember hearing Qui-Gon speak. He blinked and hissed at the brightness that blinded him. He couldn't be blind, he had to see what was going to happen.
"You were late, boy."
The words swam around inside his head, flashing at him, pounding him, hurting him. He cried out with the sheer pain of it, and at some point he realized that Qui-Gon was hitting him with a sharp object, he didn't know what it was, only that it hurt.
"Master, stop!"
A harsh, vicious growl from Qui-Gon punctuated the next blow. Obi-Wan's head was spinning, he was quickly losing grasp of his surroundings. His neck suddenly became too weak to hold up his head, and his chin smacked into his chest. He forced his eyes to stay open and stared down at his throbbing body–covered in blood. He was comforted by the fact that there was no way Qui-Gon could get away with this. How did Owen survive this all the time?
It was a vibroblade. Blunted, small, but a vibroblade was what Qui-Gon was using to accentuate his punches and kicks. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes up and met his Master's unrelenting, hatred-filled gaze. There was no mercy in those condemning grey eyes. No mercy, no peace, no love, no serenity. This Qui-Gon was not a Jedi. He couldn't be–he went against all the Jedi Code proclaimed. A sickening smile spread across Qui-Gon's face and he touched Obi-Wan's face–gently. "How are you feeling, Obi-Wan?" his Master inquired. Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. Wait–was he back with his own Qui-Gon? Surely the ...evil...Qui-Gon couldn't feign kindness this well.
Tears threatened to spill from Obi-Wan's eyes as his Master ran a hand through the boy's hair. "Oh Master, Master...I'm sorry, Master. Please don't hurt me again."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sounded thoroughly shocked. "I would never hurt you, my Padawan. Never."
It WAS the real Qui-Gon–it had to be! Obi-Wan knew he was locked in a dream–maybe a fever dream–but the real Qui-Gon was there, helping him through it. Tears ran down his face.
Laughter, deep, dark, ugly. Qui-Gon? The face in front of him twisted–Bant, Reeft, Garet, Bruck, Yoda, Xanatos. Himself. Red, black, Twi-Cakes, starfighters, lightsabers, planets, homework, books, holograms, a chrono flashing 10:00, a mirror. Black again, it smothered him. Qui-Gon.
"But you know what they say, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his voice twisting strangely. "Never say never."
