Author's Note: Indeed, I am not dead, yet. In the estimated 90 years that I still have to live, I am confident that I can finish this fanfiction. With that said, and in celebration of not being dead, here is the (extremely) overdue and long-awaited ninth chapter. Enjoy!


Episode 9A: "What is the Reality of 'Reality'?"

Quinlan could feel his own existence; everything else was subject but at least he knew he was still there. He could feel himself open laying down with his eyes closed and he opened his eyes only to witness pale white, lots of it. He looked down at his body, he was still covered in his Jedi robes. Then he looked over at his hand and very slowly attempted to move it to confirm that he still had motor functions. Eventually, one-by-one his fingers began to move in response.

He found himself, somewhere. There was nothing but white all around. There was no sky, no land, no sea, no points of interest, no beginning or end, just a very milky white. In this sense, there was no concept of up or down, Quinlan could not feel the concept of gravity or surfaces. He was not even standing up since there was nothing to stand on; rather, he was motionless some sort of empty void.

"Hello?" He yelled out, "Is anybody here? Bane? Yoda? Anybody?" Quinlan didn't hear his voice ring out. It made sense since he wasn't in an enclosed area like a cave, but even a cave was more comforting than simply being nowhere.

"Damn, where... where the hell am I?" He asked in frustration.

"This is nothing, and also everything." A voice rang out in no particular direction. Quinlan turned his head around until his vision came across a man near him. He was covered in flowing black robes, with hair dark enough to match it. His face had the sharp yet aged and delicate features of a middle-aged man. His hairline receded in a way that gave his forehead a significant widow's peak, and his eyes had a slight green tint to them.

Quinlan looked in curiosity as this man suddenly appeared much closer to him. For some reason, he seemed very familiar, yet still a mystery. "Do I, do I know you?"

"What an interesting question. How are you to understand who I am if you have yet to understand yourself? You think you are Quinlan Vos, but you can not be sure of that, just as you can not be sure of who I am."

The way those words came out, the tone of his voice and the pacing of his words seemed to be very familiar to Vos, but he was still unsure of the man's identity. "Well, I can make an educated guess that I am Quinlan Vos. After all, I dress like him, I talk like him, and I even think like him. Is that good enough for you?"

The man put his hand on his chin as he looked longingly into Vos' eyes. "Yes, I suppose you are Quinlan Vos after all. But therein still lies the first question, do you know who I am?"

"You? I think you are... you are Jedi Master Tholme, my teacher." Vos answered stoically. The man before him smiled, obviously impressed by that answer.

"And if I were not to protest, then it is decided that I am Tholme and you are Quinlan; the master and the student. Yes, I like that very much."

Vos nodded as he became enveloped in more questions racking his mind. Why am I here? Why was my Master here? What exactly is here?

"Say, Tholme, I remember you dying. Asajj Ventress killed you, no?"

"If you say that it is correct, then so it is. What of it?"

"Well, you died, and now you're here, and coincidentally I'm here as well. Does that mean that I am..."

"Dead?" Thome finished. "I can not be sure of anything that is present. Just as I am unable to describe the utter nothingness before you and me, I draw a blank as to how we still exist, talking to each other. With that in mind, I must ask a question of my choosing." Tholme suddenly appeared right in front of Quinlan's face, revealing all of his facial details to be exactly like what they were the last time Quinlan saw them. Then, Tholme was behind him, breathing down his neck, and then he was to his sides, and then nowhere to be seen.

"In this realm, time and space do not exist. Physical matter does not exist, either. If I chose, I could appear to be as far or as away from you in an instant without any actual effort. Nothing here is able to stop that, for there is nothing in the first place. 'Nothing creates more nothing', a paradox that makes both complete sense and none at all simultaneously. So in this realm where nothing exists, does that include death itself? Are we even dead at all?

Quinlan was silent, for solving such conundrums was not nearly his expertise. His master was unable to confirm much of anything; it was just as he said, this realm contains absolutely nothing, nothing except two fleshy, clothed bodies named Quinlan and Tholme.

"As you said, there is nothing here besides the two of us, why is that? Why in this realm, where nothing is everything, are we the sole exceptions? Why are there just two of use, when there could be more or less? I referred to you as Tholme, and you referred to me as Quinlan, but that is only because we created names for ourselves, because we created appearances and feelings and voices for ourselves that we identify with those names. If we are able to do so many things involuntarily, then I don't think that we are bound to the nothingness of this place. The way I see it, we are artists enveloped completely by our own canvas, and we have yet to wet the brush."

"So as artists, we are also the gods of this realm," Tholme declared. "The nature of our being here continues to elude me, as I am sure it does for you, but if what you say is right, then we are bound by no limits except for those which we place onto ourselves. So in an instant, you or I could create whatever we desire with details accurate to the letter. We could create utopia and dystopia, war and famine, peace and prosperity, civilization and anarchy, literature and ignorance. At this point, actually, I must correct myself when I say that the names we give yourself are meaningful when they are not. As the rulers of this realm, we can give yourself our own definitions, make sense of things in different ways and create entirely new meanings to pointless things. The very definition of "anything" itself could even be brought into question."

"Anything, eh?" Quinlan asked. "If I can control what anything itself can be, then I am more powerful than a god, more powerful than the Force, even. In this sense, we are the gods of gods. Well, I want to create something..."

There was a bright flash of light, brighter than the brightest of Quasars and Supernovae, brighter than what could be comprehended as "bright". Quinlan saw that the vast, white nothingness was replaced with a more contemporary setting within an instant, time itself being at his whim and therefore being irrelevant. He could see that he was now in a courtyard of sorts; he immediately recognized it as one of the many courtyards in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. There were numerous trees of wicked and unique shapes lying about in the warmth of the sun over Coruscant. The color Grey, as the color of the metallic surfaces making up most of the area, completely eliminated the vast sea and space of white. Quinlan Vos comprehended what he had done fully. Everything that was around him was based on feelings and experiences and knowledge of what the Jedi Temple was. He also knew to feel somewhat happy doing this as well, as essentially he was recreating his home from scratch as exactly as he had remembered it.

Naturally, memories are not limited objects, but people as well. As such, several Jedi were there as well in this courtyard, of all sorts of species and cultures; among them, Quinlan could see his good friend Obi-Wan Kenobi in the distance conversing with Luminara and Anakin, and he also saw Masters Yoda and Windu meditating near one of the trees. There was the young but brave Anakin Skywalker in the distance, the Chosen One talking to his Torgruta padawan Ahsoka about... something; Quinlan was never in touch with those two as the pair simply had too many things to do elsewhere.

It was peaceful, serene; as if there was never any sort of Galactic conflict, the concept of war or violence completely incompatible with this place. Vos felt comfort in this place, it was very... soft, and gentle, and even delicate, and even...

Quinlan jolted as he felt somebody tug at his arm from behind. He snapped his head over to see a woman with a bright blue complexion giving him a warm smile.

"Hello, master. How are you doing?"

Quinlan was taken aback enough from the greeting that he paused for a second before responding. "Oh... I'm doing just fine, Aayla. Thank you for asking," Quinlan looked over Aayla's shoulder to see Tholme leaning one of the trees in the courtyard, "But if you'll excuse me, I must speak to Master Tholme right now."

"But didn't you just get here? I thought that we could... No, I understand. Well, tell him that I said hello." Aayla said before walking away. Quinlan quickly walked over to where Tholme was. He was smiling at his apprentice as he neared.

"So, of all the things that you could have created, you chose this?" Tholme asked suspiciously as he got off the tree.

"We are, or we at least identified as Jedi when we were mortals, so I would've expected that you too would want to think about our home. I think it's quaint, really."

"I can see what you did, but I'm not entirely sure what it means. You may create a place you feel comfortable, but based only upon what you think you feel is comfortable, not what you wish to define yourself. And just now, Aayla Secura approached you and attempted to initiate a conversation with you; did you intend for that to happen on purpose, do you like having someone like her around? If so, is it because you defined that relationship as you did there rest of this setting, or because you had an innate feeling that was created independently of everything else?"

"I, don't know." Quinlan replied, "It could have been either reason or maybe even both. Maybe I remember my interactions with her to be slightly different, and so I modified them as I created everything else."

Tholme rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed with that response. "Perhaps, but at the very least, you failed to create something for yourself entirely. Secura is not the only instance." He pointed towards Anakin and Ahsoka in the distance, still chatting about... something, "Those two, why are they so away from us, that we could never have a conversation with them? Don't answer that, because I already know myself; it is because you never had any interactions with them apart from the odd greeting or two and what you created is based off those experiences."

Vos raised an eyebrow, "What's your point? Do you think I am doing something wrong?"

"No. You have not done something wrong, but you are not expressing anything that could not have existed anywhere else. If I were to return to the allegory of an artist, then you have chosen to paint with only the basic colors and nothing more. And like the artist who chooses not to mix paint and create something more expressive, so too do you choose not to create anything interesting."

"But art is subjective, is it not?" Vos asked. "What you find boring or uninspired is exactly what I would find satisfying. I recreated the Jedi temple because I felt that the tranquility here is itself something to be admired."

"And yet again I must repeat myself. Tholme replied. "It is not as though it is isn't sufficient, but you cast away the opportunity to create something more bold, more cunning. Observe; look back at the Chosen One and his Padawan."

Vos did as he said, but was not prepared for what he would see. Anakin and Ahsoka seemed to be having a jubilant conversation; apparently, a good joke must have come out at some point and the Chosen One was leaning on his Apprentice's shoulder from laughter.

"That's a pretty good one, but do you know something that's even funnier?" Anakin asked.

"What?" She replied.

It only now occurred to Vos that he could actually hear the two talking, despite what Tholme had described earlier. They did not appear to be any closer than before, so it was obvious that Tholme was controlling not only the visual but the audible aspects of events.

Anakin suddenly gripped the Padawan by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Vos winced from the disturbing sound of bone and flesh being crushed under metal.

"Lots of people tell me that I think like an autocrat," Anakin spoke with a low, growly voice. "and I guess having an iron grip is not going to help change their minds." Anakin was satisfied to hear a certain "crack" and dropped her like a ragdoll; needless to say, she didn't get back up. Vos' eyes were wide open and he shivered very slightly.

Vos looked back at Tholme, whose face not only showed that he was satisfied with his actions, looked with glee as though he had enjoyed doing it.

"Th-that's awful!" Vos exclaimed. "Why would you want that to happen?"

"You mistake my intention. It is not as though I specifically wanted this to happen; in this case, I am merely indifferent. Rather, what happened serves to prove my point, that with a single thought you or I could create something completely new, something that can create new experiences, new feelings for which even more could be created. Through my actions, a brand new cycle of events begins which shall trigger an innumerable amount of other events."

"Why do you insist on such change? What is your motive, what have you to gain?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing, but that is not the point. The point is that we both have the ability to facilitate the creation of a new existence, a new order. You said it yourself earlier when you mentioned that we are the gods of gods. If you really believed in what you said, then why do you cling so heavily to the status quo?"

"You must join me, Vos. I need your help, Vos. Together, Vos, we can do anything. All it takes is your trust in me, so why don't you take that first step?"

"Becuase... a Sith is the last person I would want to trust," Vos replied slowly.

It suddenly got very quiet. The chatter of the others in the courtyard suddenly ceased. The blue sky above greyed and then gradually turned Orange, eventually becoming blood red. Quinlan could feel an uneasy pressure about him like he was being watched, or about to be ambushed. Tholme stood there with his head down. Suddenly, he started chuckling, then continued into a full blow-laughter. He put a hand over his face to control himself from the outcry of emotions. Soon enough, he stopped laughing, and looked up and let his hand fall down, revealing two reddish-yellow eyes.

"I have to admit, you're not as dumb as you look."

Vos shrugged and put his hands on his hips. "Well, what can I say? I guess I have a knack for finding trouble even in alternate realities."

Tholme smirked and suddenly rushed forward at Vos with an incredible speed. Vos couldn't even blink before he found himself being strangled at the hands of this Sith in disguise, He gripped at his assailant's wrists in a vain attempt to release himself.

"I am not a Sith", Tholme growled, "No, I am far, far more powerful than any Sith. And now, you are going.. to bend.. to ME!"

Vos, desperate to escape, headbutted Tholme and jumped back. "Whatever you call yourself doesn't matter anymore. I will not let myself get devoured by the likes of you, not today!" Vos declared with confidence. That confidence turned to confusion, however, has he heard the sound of a lightsaber turning on, and then another, and then several more. He looked around and saw that the other Jedi witnessing the incident had turned their weapons on, and were all pointed them at him. He could hear the murmurs of some of the Jedi.

"He knows... the Jedi knows too much."

"We must kill that arrogant fool now!"

"For our lord and master in darkness, it is our way!"

"Hmm. Yes, perish, you shall!"

Vos looked around and thought to himself what to do in this situation. Then he remembered that he conjured most of his surroundings by himself. All he needs to do is change things again.

The Jedi who were slowly surrounding Vos in a circle suddenly froze in their tracks and turned to ashen-grey stone. Vos looked over at Thome and smiled at him. "Well, where's your army now?"

Tholme smiled back and snapped his finger. Suddenly, the stone statues broke apart into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually becoming a huge ring of dust around the two. A gust of wind came over the area, sweeping the dust away and out of sight.

"I don't need an army to make you bend to me," Tholme said, "Now, would you care to try again?"

Vos grunted in frustration. He looked over at the tree that Tholme was previously leaning on. Now, it was a huge ion cannon, the barrel pointed directly towards Tholme. The latter looked at the contraption with disappointment and blew a breath of air on it. As the weapon prepared to fire, a light began to leak out from within, and the whole device exploded in a huge blue fireball.

Vos was not dissuaded. He looked above, at the Coruscant sky and saw the Jedi Council Spire. That spire leaned heavily until it broke free from its support, and the whole structure came crashing down into the courtyard below. Tholme laughed as he put his hand up to stop the building mid-air, and flung it into the sun.

Tholme looked back at a clearly irritated Vos. "You are really stupid, aren't you? You must see that we are on an absolutely equal footing, whatever you can create I can destroy, and vice versa. There is no point to this fighting, so damn it all and just listen to me!"

"Never." Vos quickly replied. "I'd rather die than listen to what you have to sa... wait a minute, why didn't I just think of that?"

Tholme raised an eyebrow to Vos' sudden realization. "What are you going on about now? Have you gone made already?"

Vos laughed as he took out his lightsaber. "Well, I guess I am stupid if I only now just figured this out. To break this stalemate, I need to die! If I can make myself die, then I can be reborn somewhere else that doesn't include the likes of you!" He pointed the front end of his weapon right over his heart and activated it.

"And before I go, tell the real Tholme that I said hello," Quinlan said as he collapsed on the ground with a smile.


Episode 9B: "So, am I Awake Yet?"

He was alive. He took a huge gasp of air as he woke up and opened his eyes. He could feel that this time, he woke up in the real world. He could feel the Force flowing through his being, he could feel and hear the things around him. It was for that reason he could immediately tell that he was not anywhere familiar.

He was laying on a bed, he sat up and saw that he was in the room of what looked like some spotty apartment complex, the kind that is common in Coruscant's slum districts. There was a distinct lack of lighting; only a sliver of light came from a window on Quinlan's left side, illuminating the room with strands of grey light against the shadows. Quinlan had an eerie feeling about this place that told him that speaking wouldn't be a good idea, so he kept quiet as he surveyed his surroundings. Indeed, he could not see much in such pitiful lighting, but he could certainly feel the things he couldn't see.

He eventually felt something that was off. A signature that felt unlike an inanimate object; it felt more akin to, someone. There was somebody else in this room. Quinlan's heart began to beat more intensely as he tried to find out who or where this person was. Quinlan felt like he was trapped in his current pose. He feared the unknown enemy lurking in the shadows that were watching him as if it were waiting for him to make a move. He spent the next minute attempting to isolate this Force signature but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that he couldn't quite tell who was there, just the fact that someone WAS there.

Vos had enough of this charade. He tried sensing something that could help him see better. Soon, he felt something above him, a ceiling light! He instinctively reached out with his hand towards this light, and soon enough he could feel the electricity flowing through the device as it activated. The room was not much better lit, however; it was obvious that the Republic's war effort-diverting much of the planet's power grid towards the heavy manufacturing sectors- was starting to take its toll on the populace. As such, only a pathetic, dim orange light was projected from the ceiling and much of the room he was in was still hidden behind the shadows. Nevertheless, Quinlan could now see much more than before.

"Oh, so you finally decided to wake up?"

Quinlan's sense's jumped in surprise as a feminine voice called out to him. He immediately recognized the direction of the voice as being from his right side. His head turned as to see a woman sitting half in and out of the dim light in a chair, her boots being propped up on a roundtable. She appeared to be dressed in an all-black bodysuit. Her hair was black as well, and there was even a black cape draped haphazardly over the chair she was sitting in. Quinlan found himself temporarily dumbstruck as he pondered who in their right mind would worship the color black so much before prioritizing finding out her identity. Then, Vos felt something else about the newly revealed person, a feeling of familiarity. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about this woman felt very familiar, but he was still missing one last piece of the puzzle to confirm his suspicions.

"What's wrong? Are you scared of me?" She asked mockingly. "I wouldn't blame you. It is often what people do not see that scares them the most. You're scared of me right now, aren't you, Jedi?"

"Jedi? You know who I am?" Vos asked. "We've never met before, have we?"

"Never, but just through what I've heard, I know who you are very well, though I don't know who you aren't. Likewise, you don't know who I am, but I'm sure you know who I'm not."

"Yeah, you're not someone who's very good at small talk, are you?" Quinlan asked, and then immediately regretted asking. He had forgotten that this was the same woman who had disabled both Embo and Cad Bane in a scuffle lasting less than ten seconds. It was obvious now that talking smart wasn't actually a smart idea.

"I was going to suggest 'your enemy', but that is also acceptable; as you may have figured out already, I've always preferred a 'Show, don't tell' mentality. I believe it helps people remember who I am better than just words. And speaking of which..."

The woman suddenly took her boots off the desk and got up out of her chair, kicked it violently off to the side. As she stood up and turned around and faced Vos, the dim ceiling light suddenly went out, and once again the room was bathed in darkness bar the piecemeal rays of light from the window. Quinlan instinctively got off the bed and backed himself into the wall. He reached down to his waist to grab his lightsaber, yet he found himself grasping at thin air. The woman chucked at Quinlan's desperation. the woman took out a metallic object from her clock. Quinlan grunted in annoyance as he realized that was his lightsaber she was holding right now.

"Were you looking for this? My my, you should really take better care of such possessions. After all," Her finger found the right button and activated the lightsaber, holding the blade up horizontally to her face, "this weapon is your life, isn't it?"

The green glow of the lightsaber soon illuminated the room far greater than the ceiling light. Behind the weapon, Vos could now clearly see the face of this mystery woman. As he suspected, black clothing covered from head to toe except for her white face. At first glance, Vos could not discern any notable details about her very average looking face except for a large diagonal scar cutting across her forehead and down into her right cheek. Then, he saw her eyes. Vos couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt strange about them. They were large and blue eyes and stood out unlike the rest of her face. In fact, those eyes, they were perfect, not too overbearing, but neither too insignificant. It was as if they were special caved stones, like, like...

"Sapphires?" Vos asked out loud.

She smiled as her guest put the pieces together. Vos found himself flabbergasted, too surprised to say anything, and too afraid to take the initiative without his weapon.

"Yes", she finally replied. "Did you sleep well, Quinlan Vos?"