Hey everyone~
I stopped dying, so you get a chapter=) Last chapter…sigh…but there will be a sequel, hope that's a happy thought=)Thanx to all who took the time to read this, even if they didn't review, hope you enjoyed!And an even BIGGER thanx to all who took the time to review, you all are the best! ::hugs::
Thanx specifically go to: Freakizimi(that part was actually inspired by Zorro…the whole head in a wine jar bit=), Sentimental Star, Ginger Ninja, siri, wicked+elve, Serese, stormy1325, KenobisGirl, Loryn Wilde(how do you make lemon soup?=), Trekkieforever(you were right in feeling sorry for all the Jedi=), BlazerAkila, and Nike
Now, on with the show…
Rage, while unbecoming of a Jedi, is a natural human emotion. Emotions can be denied, they can be suppressed, they can be an ally, they can be an enemy, they can be many things, but they can not be eradicated. No matter how skilled one is at hiding them or belying them, the raw emotions always exist, just under the surface. And even the most skilled falter…
"Did you really think that I would make it easy for you to just cut me down?"
Demar smiled as he met Mace's gaze, his eyes mocking the Jedi, laughing at the role reversal. "Now, you wanted to play with this?" Demar gestured to the weapon which was so tantalizingly within Mace's reach, yet the power to grab it was beyond him. "Tell me, in all of your Jedi teachings, all of your archaic dogma, were there ever any lessons on sharing?"
With a speed that could no being could achieve unaided, Demar snatched the lightsaber from its rightful place, clipped onto the strong, but well worn brown material of the utility belt which hung low upon the Jedi's hips, and began to examine it, to feel it's grooves and crevices through the thin material of his skin-tight black leather gloves.
"You know, I always wanted one of this when I was a kid," Demar began, his attention fully devoted to the scrutiny of the 'saber. "I didn't care, though I really should have, that it was a Jedi's weapon. Or maybe I did. All I know is that I wanted one. But, even if my family would have allowed it, it would have never been, for Jedi are notorious for hoarding information." Demar reluctantly tore his eyes away from the weapon, allowing his fingers to continue to caress it as his gaze went back and forth between Jedi, "No one knew how to build one, so I never had one."
Demar took a step past Mace, placing himself directly in front of Qui-Gon, but a separated by a relatively safe distance. "But, I have made up for my childhood lacking recently." Tossing Mace's 'saber carelessly to the side, Demar pulled another metal cylinder from the folds of his tunics. He stepped back, left foot in front, body turned away from the Jedi, knees bent, and muscles tense. Shrugging off his heavy cape, Demar tossed that to the side and maintained his stance as he ignited the laser sword, the blue glow casting a supernatural shadow about him, giving his eyes a surreal blue sparkle. "You see, my dear Qui-Gon, I have been practicing."
Silently accepting the challenge, Qui-Gon slowly removed his robe, taking the time to attempt to find his center, and folded it before setting it in an out of the way corner. Qui-Gon then unclipped his 'saber from his belt and, seeing no negative response from Demar, rather an approving grin, fell into a familiar battle stance and ignited the emerald blade.
Wordlessly, Demar charged the Jedi, a weak attempt that a mere initiate could have countered. Qui-Gon easily sidestepped the blow, allowing the azure blade to simply slide off his. Demar tried again, this time he brought the 'saber up above his head, both hands on the hilt, and chopped downward, only to be met by the green which easily flung the advancing blade backwards, throwing it's wielder back up against a cold metal wall.
Demar, with a grunt, came back, blade slicing the air and meeting, again, with only his opponent's blade. Another attempt, another block. Demar thrusted and slashed, feigned and lunged, every time meeting with the emerald beam of energy, every time growing more and more annoyed
A quick slash at the Jedi's feet forced a Force aided twisting somersault over the pirate very effectively backing Qui-Gon into a corner. Demar stepped up his attacks, making furious, formless chops, as if he had allowed the 'saber full control of all the actions his body exacted. The sloppily made advances did nothing more than open the pirate up to countless opportunities for counterattacks, but none came. Demar, not being a seasoned swordsman, but having enough knowledge of the techniques to realized his errors should have caused his death many times over, grew furious at the Jedi's seemingly halfhearted effort.
Without relenting on his clumsy, ineffective attacks, Demar growled out through clenched teeth, "Fight me! Why won't you FIGHT me?"
The Jedi blocked another attempt and slid his lightsaber on top of the other, effectively holding it in place before looked at Demar's face. Qui- Gon, his face the epitome of calm, but his eyes alight with an all consuming fury, responded, his voice tight, "I will not fight you, because, if I start, I won't be able to stop."
Demar just stared at Qui-Gon for a moment—a moment which was interrupted by the soft hum of another lightsaber added to the mix. Demar involuntarily flinched as he registered the sudden sensation of burning heat along the side of his throat.
"Demar, you really do need to learn how to do two things at once…either that or switch to the use of chains and shackles for all your captives. Now, you're going to deactivate the 'saber," Mace held his violet blade steady as Demar did as he was told, "And give it to Qui-Gon—hilt first."
Qui-Gon, who had not yet deactivated his weapon and was now holding next to Mace's at Demar's throat, reached out and snatched the metal cylinder away from the pirate.
"Qui, would you mind holding your position for a moment?" Mace reached into his utility belt and brought out a small hypospray, pressed it to the back of Demar's neck, and depressed the small button. No sooner had the drug entered his bloodstream did Demar collapse in a rumpled heap upon the floor.
Qui-Gon rolled the unconscious man onto his back and began searching him as he spoke to Mace, "How long will he be out for?"
"At least a few hours…When Ploo was accidentally injected, he was out for a few days..."
Qui kept searching Demar's utility belt as he distractedly answered, "You mean the time you *accidentally* left the hypospray injecting side up on his Counsel seat?"
"Yes, that was the time."
With a grunt of triumph, Qui-Gon yanked a small black box off of the unconscious man, attached it to his belt and pushed the small button on it. Immediately, he felt the exhilarating rush of the Force engulfing him, washing over him, comforting him, guiding him.
Qui-Gon rose and walked quickly over to door and, using his regained Force abilities, tore it from place with one smooth, outward hand motion. Unconsciously consulting the Force as he entered the hallway, Qui-Gon quickly began his near run to get to his padawan. Mace had to sprint to keep up, having no time to relish the glorious return of the Force the moment he stepped from the room where Demar's unconscious body laid.
Winding his way through the corridors, never once pausing in uncertainty, Qui-Gon was soon standing outside the room his padawan had suffered—and was still suffering—in. There was no doubt of this, for Obi-Wan's essence clung to the area and his Force signature, though decidedly muted, came through to Qui-Gon like a long-forgotten childhood friend. The Jedi master took a deep breath and palmed open the unlocked door, steeling himself against the horrendous stench which rolled out of the room in disgusting waves, he entered.
Hurrying over to the boy whose head was slumped against one arm, but whose eyes were still fixed upon the head sitting against the wall, Qui-Gon took a quick inventory of Obi-Wan's injuries and was extremely glad that the vidscreen in the other room did not do justice to the wounds his padawan suffered or there would be a dead pirate on the floor verses an unconscious one.
"Obi-Wan, wake up. We've got to go." Qui-Gon's voice was hushed yet urgent. They had to get out; not knowing if your captors are aware of your every move yet are merely biding their time is not a comforting thought.
Obi-Wan moaned as he picked his head up only enough to see who was speaking to him. When he saw his master's face, he gave a reaction which was not unexpected.
"Master? No, NO, it can't be! Demar! Stop! STOP! Get away from me! GET AWAY! DEMAR!" With each word, Obi-Wan grew more and more agitated and his voice grew to an impressive volume for one who had not made use of the instrument for some time.
Qui-Gon did not have the time to comfort the boy, so, though it broke his heart to do so, he put a gentle hand to his padawan's temple and uttered a single word, "Sleep."
First, Qui-Gon, using his lightsaber extremely carefully, cut through the Force inhibiting collar, which fell to the floor with a snap and sizzle. Then, using a burst of Force energy, Qui-Gon broke the rusted chains on his padawan's legs and then the left arm, then the right, catching the unconscious boy before he had even begun his fall. Qui-Gon, being extremely mindful of the torn flesh, now somewhat glad that his apprentice was not aware of the immense pain the master's careful cradling would have caused.
Greatly relieved by Mace's presence outside the door, though he had honestly forgotten his comrade was there, Qui-Gon started down the hall, his fellow master at his side, ready to protect the master/padawan pair should any problems arise. Surprisingly, his protection was not needed, for the hurried walk back to the entrance to their ship was extremely uneventful.
Mace palmed open the hatch to the ship and entered first, and both with the Force and his senses, he scanned the ship. Finding no threat, he called for Qui-Gon to enter.
Qui-Gon wasted no time in getting his battered padawan onto a cot and examining his injuries more thoroughly. He then began to tend to the open wounds on Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles, daubing each with stinging bacta, causing Obi-Wan to cry out in his sleep and come a step closer to the conscious. Not wanting Obi-Wan to suffer unduly, Qui-Gon bent down, brushed a light kiss over Obi's sweat-matted hair and, whispering softly said, "Shhhh, my Obi, I am here. Sleep."
* * *
Two figures watched the Jedi's escape on dozens of vidscreens, from dozens of angles.
"My Lord, if you would only allow me to turn on the Force inhibitors or at least deatatch their vessel, they would not escape."
"Young one, though I need not explain my reasons to you, I already have. Besides, the Force inhibitors would not work on the tall one…he has the protection of my box. We know the drug works, that's all we need."
Turning away from the screens, Demar walked swiftly out the door, into a narrow hallway, and stopped at an entrance door at the very end of the corridor. Before palming open the lock, Demar turned to his companion and asked softly, "The injection has been given?"
A curt nod from the other affirmed the question and Demar smiled.
"Well, I guess that it's time to flex my acting skills then." With a final breath, Demar palmed open the door and stepped in, taking in all the aspects of the small, Force inhibited room, as if for the first time. When his eyes fell upon a figure chained in the middle of the floor, he loosed a small gasp and ran up to it.
"Force! What have they done to you? It doesn't matter, it will all be over soon, I promise you."
The figure glanced up and a pretty, feminine face was visible underneath a mop of matted brown hair. As her mind processed the words spoken, a smile twitched at her lips as she lifted her sightless eyes to he so-called savior and spoke a single word which embodied a hope long since thought dead.
"Qui?"
Can you guess who the person was? Lol, hope so! Anywayz, thanx to every1 for supporting me…it might be a little while before I get the sequel out, but, as I said before, it will be better writing, longer and will be posted in parts, once a night. Sound better? If you want to get a summery or sneak preview on a select part or just to tell me to hurry my butt along and write it, email me! Also, when I have a date that I'm gonna post it, I'll probably put up a note in the reviews of this fic, so if you wanna know that and don't have the time to email me, check there…And, now here comes the sad part, I can't believe that I won't say this for a such a while…be a good lil' Jedi and review, you know I love them!
I stopped dying, so you get a chapter=) Last chapter…sigh…but there will be a sequel, hope that's a happy thought=)Thanx to all who took the time to read this, even if they didn't review, hope you enjoyed!And an even BIGGER thanx to all who took the time to review, you all are the best! ::hugs::
Thanx specifically go to: Freakizimi(that part was actually inspired by Zorro…the whole head in a wine jar bit=), Sentimental Star, Ginger Ninja, siri, wicked+elve, Serese, stormy1325, KenobisGirl, Loryn Wilde(how do you make lemon soup?=), Trekkieforever(you were right in feeling sorry for all the Jedi=), BlazerAkila, and Nike
Now, on with the show…
Rage, while unbecoming of a Jedi, is a natural human emotion. Emotions can be denied, they can be suppressed, they can be an ally, they can be an enemy, they can be many things, but they can not be eradicated. No matter how skilled one is at hiding them or belying them, the raw emotions always exist, just under the surface. And even the most skilled falter…
"Did you really think that I would make it easy for you to just cut me down?"
Demar smiled as he met Mace's gaze, his eyes mocking the Jedi, laughing at the role reversal. "Now, you wanted to play with this?" Demar gestured to the weapon which was so tantalizingly within Mace's reach, yet the power to grab it was beyond him. "Tell me, in all of your Jedi teachings, all of your archaic dogma, were there ever any lessons on sharing?"
With a speed that could no being could achieve unaided, Demar snatched the lightsaber from its rightful place, clipped onto the strong, but well worn brown material of the utility belt which hung low upon the Jedi's hips, and began to examine it, to feel it's grooves and crevices through the thin material of his skin-tight black leather gloves.
"You know, I always wanted one of this when I was a kid," Demar began, his attention fully devoted to the scrutiny of the 'saber. "I didn't care, though I really should have, that it was a Jedi's weapon. Or maybe I did. All I know is that I wanted one. But, even if my family would have allowed it, it would have never been, for Jedi are notorious for hoarding information." Demar reluctantly tore his eyes away from the weapon, allowing his fingers to continue to caress it as his gaze went back and forth between Jedi, "No one knew how to build one, so I never had one."
Demar took a step past Mace, placing himself directly in front of Qui-Gon, but a separated by a relatively safe distance. "But, I have made up for my childhood lacking recently." Tossing Mace's 'saber carelessly to the side, Demar pulled another metal cylinder from the folds of his tunics. He stepped back, left foot in front, body turned away from the Jedi, knees bent, and muscles tense. Shrugging off his heavy cape, Demar tossed that to the side and maintained his stance as he ignited the laser sword, the blue glow casting a supernatural shadow about him, giving his eyes a surreal blue sparkle. "You see, my dear Qui-Gon, I have been practicing."
Silently accepting the challenge, Qui-Gon slowly removed his robe, taking the time to attempt to find his center, and folded it before setting it in an out of the way corner. Qui-Gon then unclipped his 'saber from his belt and, seeing no negative response from Demar, rather an approving grin, fell into a familiar battle stance and ignited the emerald blade.
Wordlessly, Demar charged the Jedi, a weak attempt that a mere initiate could have countered. Qui-Gon easily sidestepped the blow, allowing the azure blade to simply slide off his. Demar tried again, this time he brought the 'saber up above his head, both hands on the hilt, and chopped downward, only to be met by the green which easily flung the advancing blade backwards, throwing it's wielder back up against a cold metal wall.
Demar, with a grunt, came back, blade slicing the air and meeting, again, with only his opponent's blade. Another attempt, another block. Demar thrusted and slashed, feigned and lunged, every time meeting with the emerald beam of energy, every time growing more and more annoyed
A quick slash at the Jedi's feet forced a Force aided twisting somersault over the pirate very effectively backing Qui-Gon into a corner. Demar stepped up his attacks, making furious, formless chops, as if he had allowed the 'saber full control of all the actions his body exacted. The sloppily made advances did nothing more than open the pirate up to countless opportunities for counterattacks, but none came. Demar, not being a seasoned swordsman, but having enough knowledge of the techniques to realized his errors should have caused his death many times over, grew furious at the Jedi's seemingly halfhearted effort.
Without relenting on his clumsy, ineffective attacks, Demar growled out through clenched teeth, "Fight me! Why won't you FIGHT me?"
The Jedi blocked another attempt and slid his lightsaber on top of the other, effectively holding it in place before looked at Demar's face. Qui- Gon, his face the epitome of calm, but his eyes alight with an all consuming fury, responded, his voice tight, "I will not fight you, because, if I start, I won't be able to stop."
Demar just stared at Qui-Gon for a moment—a moment which was interrupted by the soft hum of another lightsaber added to the mix. Demar involuntarily flinched as he registered the sudden sensation of burning heat along the side of his throat.
"Demar, you really do need to learn how to do two things at once…either that or switch to the use of chains and shackles for all your captives. Now, you're going to deactivate the 'saber," Mace held his violet blade steady as Demar did as he was told, "And give it to Qui-Gon—hilt first."
Qui-Gon, who had not yet deactivated his weapon and was now holding next to Mace's at Demar's throat, reached out and snatched the metal cylinder away from the pirate.
"Qui, would you mind holding your position for a moment?" Mace reached into his utility belt and brought out a small hypospray, pressed it to the back of Demar's neck, and depressed the small button. No sooner had the drug entered his bloodstream did Demar collapse in a rumpled heap upon the floor.
Qui-Gon rolled the unconscious man onto his back and began searching him as he spoke to Mace, "How long will he be out for?"
"At least a few hours…When Ploo was accidentally injected, he was out for a few days..."
Qui kept searching Demar's utility belt as he distractedly answered, "You mean the time you *accidentally* left the hypospray injecting side up on his Counsel seat?"
"Yes, that was the time."
With a grunt of triumph, Qui-Gon yanked a small black box off of the unconscious man, attached it to his belt and pushed the small button on it. Immediately, he felt the exhilarating rush of the Force engulfing him, washing over him, comforting him, guiding him.
Qui-Gon rose and walked quickly over to door and, using his regained Force abilities, tore it from place with one smooth, outward hand motion. Unconsciously consulting the Force as he entered the hallway, Qui-Gon quickly began his near run to get to his padawan. Mace had to sprint to keep up, having no time to relish the glorious return of the Force the moment he stepped from the room where Demar's unconscious body laid.
Winding his way through the corridors, never once pausing in uncertainty, Qui-Gon was soon standing outside the room his padawan had suffered—and was still suffering—in. There was no doubt of this, for Obi-Wan's essence clung to the area and his Force signature, though decidedly muted, came through to Qui-Gon like a long-forgotten childhood friend. The Jedi master took a deep breath and palmed open the unlocked door, steeling himself against the horrendous stench which rolled out of the room in disgusting waves, he entered.
Hurrying over to the boy whose head was slumped against one arm, but whose eyes were still fixed upon the head sitting against the wall, Qui-Gon took a quick inventory of Obi-Wan's injuries and was extremely glad that the vidscreen in the other room did not do justice to the wounds his padawan suffered or there would be a dead pirate on the floor verses an unconscious one.
"Obi-Wan, wake up. We've got to go." Qui-Gon's voice was hushed yet urgent. They had to get out; not knowing if your captors are aware of your every move yet are merely biding their time is not a comforting thought.
Obi-Wan moaned as he picked his head up only enough to see who was speaking to him. When he saw his master's face, he gave a reaction which was not unexpected.
"Master? No, NO, it can't be! Demar! Stop! STOP! Get away from me! GET AWAY! DEMAR!" With each word, Obi-Wan grew more and more agitated and his voice grew to an impressive volume for one who had not made use of the instrument for some time.
Qui-Gon did not have the time to comfort the boy, so, though it broke his heart to do so, he put a gentle hand to his padawan's temple and uttered a single word, "Sleep."
First, Qui-Gon, using his lightsaber extremely carefully, cut through the Force inhibiting collar, which fell to the floor with a snap and sizzle. Then, using a burst of Force energy, Qui-Gon broke the rusted chains on his padawan's legs and then the left arm, then the right, catching the unconscious boy before he had even begun his fall. Qui-Gon, being extremely mindful of the torn flesh, now somewhat glad that his apprentice was not aware of the immense pain the master's careful cradling would have caused.
Greatly relieved by Mace's presence outside the door, though he had honestly forgotten his comrade was there, Qui-Gon started down the hall, his fellow master at his side, ready to protect the master/padawan pair should any problems arise. Surprisingly, his protection was not needed, for the hurried walk back to the entrance to their ship was extremely uneventful.
Mace palmed open the hatch to the ship and entered first, and both with the Force and his senses, he scanned the ship. Finding no threat, he called for Qui-Gon to enter.
Qui-Gon wasted no time in getting his battered padawan onto a cot and examining his injuries more thoroughly. He then began to tend to the open wounds on Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles, daubing each with stinging bacta, causing Obi-Wan to cry out in his sleep and come a step closer to the conscious. Not wanting Obi-Wan to suffer unduly, Qui-Gon bent down, brushed a light kiss over Obi's sweat-matted hair and, whispering softly said, "Shhhh, my Obi, I am here. Sleep."
* * *
Two figures watched the Jedi's escape on dozens of vidscreens, from dozens of angles.
"My Lord, if you would only allow me to turn on the Force inhibitors or at least deatatch their vessel, they would not escape."
"Young one, though I need not explain my reasons to you, I already have. Besides, the Force inhibitors would not work on the tall one…he has the protection of my box. We know the drug works, that's all we need."
Turning away from the screens, Demar walked swiftly out the door, into a narrow hallway, and stopped at an entrance door at the very end of the corridor. Before palming open the lock, Demar turned to his companion and asked softly, "The injection has been given?"
A curt nod from the other affirmed the question and Demar smiled.
"Well, I guess that it's time to flex my acting skills then." With a final breath, Demar palmed open the door and stepped in, taking in all the aspects of the small, Force inhibited room, as if for the first time. When his eyes fell upon a figure chained in the middle of the floor, he loosed a small gasp and ran up to it.
"Force! What have they done to you? It doesn't matter, it will all be over soon, I promise you."
The figure glanced up and a pretty, feminine face was visible underneath a mop of matted brown hair. As her mind processed the words spoken, a smile twitched at her lips as she lifted her sightless eyes to he so-called savior and spoke a single word which embodied a hope long since thought dead.
"Qui?"
Can you guess who the person was? Lol, hope so! Anywayz, thanx to every1 for supporting me…it might be a little while before I get the sequel out, but, as I said before, it will be better writing, longer and will be posted in parts, once a night. Sound better? If you want to get a summery or sneak preview on a select part or just to tell me to hurry my butt along and write it, email me! Also, when I have a date that I'm gonna post it, I'll probably put up a note in the reviews of this fic, so if you wanna know that and don't have the time to email me, check there…And, now here comes the sad part, I can't believe that I won't say this for a such a while…be a good lil' Jedi and review, you know I love them!