Author: DarkPhoenixBC
Rating: T
Chronology/Summary/ Notes/ Disclaimer: please see chapter 1
Chapter 2 - Taking Up Residence
Anakin was still waiting by the wall of metal. He'd been sitting for some time now, and was starting to get nervous. He felt he should be doing something with his time, but didn't know what. Meditate? No, he was feeling too rebellious, having been away from the Temple so long; he didn't want to do anything that would be expected there. Suddenly, finally, there was a bump from behind the wall. A muffled voice came from behind it. "Anakin? You still out there?" he pressed his ear and face to the cold metal, and called back. "Yeah. How do I get through?" there was a loud thump, then a scratching noise. "I'll get to you. Stand back!" he followed her order, and jumped away from the metal. With a gratingly loud scrape that echoed in the darkness, the metal sheet swung upwards. Anakin shielded his eyes from the sudden light from beyond; he could barely make out Rogue's outline through the tears that sprang up. "Come on in. I have to shut this." She said.
Anakin stepped forward, blinking. "Watch your step!" she said, seconds before he caught his toe on something. She caught and swung him around before he fell. While he was still trying to adjust his vision, he heard the metal door swing shut again. "Welcome home!" said Rogue.
When at last his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that it was not so light as he first thought. Standing in almost utter darkness had dilated his pupils so much that any light seemed great. He found himself standing in the eating/kitchen area he'd seen first when his eyesight cleared. He took in his surroundings a little more this time.
The place was small, yet comfortable, reminding Anakin of his mother's kitchen back home on Tatooine. A cooking range was set in one corner; a counter ran from one side, and led to a sink. On the counter stood a cooler- crate. Cabinets were set into the walls. A makeshift table sat in the middle of the room, with crates set around for seats. That was pretty much it, save for a few unidentifiable objects hanging on the walls, and a door covered in a maroon curtain. The entire place had a rusted look, but a lived-in feel. The atmosphere was sort of homely.
Anakin looked at Rogue, who was busy putting the things she'd bought away in various cupboards. He then noticed her gloved hand. It was the one he'd seen when she'd saved him from the gang-war. He hadn't noticed it until now; he couldn't remember wearing it at the club, and he must have been too intoxicated to notice when they'd left. He vaguely remembered blue lightning flashes, seemingly emitted from the gloved hand. He made a note to ask her about it.
"You're not allergic to anything, are you Ani?" she asked. She was tearing open the package of noodles. "No, I don't think so." He replied. Was he? He'd never had a reaction to anything, but you never know. Oh well, he'd take the chance.
Soon, there were two pots boiling over the range. One held the multi- colored noodles. They were cut many different ways, and mostly were red, green, yellow, and a few blues. The other pot held a white sauce, the result of the powder Rogue had bought, and some water. At least, he assumed it was water. Rogue explained their properties, many of which he'd encountered before, with no negative reactions. She told him to look in the cooler-crate for something to drink. He found many bottles of the glowing green liquor she'd been drinking earlier, and asked her about it tentatively.
She gave him a wicked grin. "B'jork beer. Want to try some? She asked, popping open one of the flasks and taking a swig. Then she handed the container to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and took a sniff. Instantly, he regretted it; his nostrils cleared and started to run, and his eyes watered anew. He pushed the thing away from him. "UGH! That's awful!" he exclaimed. It smelled almost like ammonia. Rogue was laughing. "Take a drink! You'll get a real kick in the gut!" but he wasn't going near it. Rogue returned to the cooking, humming the same song Vewlef had taught him earlier. He went back to the cooler-crate, and found a few different drinks. He selected a pink, bubbly fluid in a strange container. The bottom was bulbous and round, but led up to a long thin neck, with a glass stopper at the top. The neck was long enough for him to hold with one whole hand.
Finally, Rogue ladled out their meal into two bowls each. Into one she put some of the noodles; into the other, some white sauce. Once settled, Rogue gave Anakin a pair of wooden sticks, approximately 8 inches long, with little hooks on the end. "Hash'chki sticks." She told him with an impious smile. She then proceeded to explain to him how to hold them properly, and use them to sort of flip the noodles into the sauce in the other bowl, swish them around, then scoop them out and fling them into your mouth. When Rogue did it she made it look easy. With a deft flick, the blue noodle on her sticks was drenched in sauce, and with another flick, they were sliding down her throat. Anakin couldn't even seem to hold them properly. "Really, Ani, it's all in the wrists." She told him. Yeah, sure.
When at last Anakin had spilled sauce all around his bowl and flung noodles all over the table, he announced that it would be great fun to watch a Hash'chki feast one day, took up a stick in each hand, and proceeded to scoop noodles into his mouth, following them with a sip from the sauce bowl. At first, Rogue looked appalled, then she laughed and imitated him.
(Years later, while once again attempting to use the Hash'chki sticks at a real feast, Anakin relaxed that Rogue must have been using the Force. But by then, it really didn't matter.)
Anakin lay in the dimness, feeling happier than usual. The home-cooked, non- simulator made meal filled his belly warmly, covered comfortably by the fizzers. It felt almost like he was home again, safe in his warm room, on a soft-stone bed, protected from the vicious sandstorms outside. When Rogue came in a little later, and whispered "Goodnight Ani," softly in his ears, half-asleep he murmured back, "G'night mom."
In the darkness, Rogue frowned and looked down at the young Jedi-in- training concernedly. Then she let her expression soften. What business of hers was it anyway? She lay down quietly, and was asleep in twelve breaths.
In the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan slept less peacefully. He dreamt he was chasing after Anakin in the darkness of the city. Every time he came close, some new wall obstructed him, or someone was in his way, or something prevented him from gaining. Once or twice he even heard Ani's voice calling him, sometimes playful, sometimes afraid. He rounded a tall wall, and fell down. And down, and down, and down, into an abyss. He could see another body dimly below him, and knew instinctively it was Anakin. He tucked, trying to fall faster. He did, and came upon Ani with abnormal speed. His Padawan was looking up at him with wide frightened eyes, but his mouth formed an unnaturally huge smile. Obi-Wan reached out to him, but couldn't quite reach. Ani pulled away. "I don't want to come back yet Master!" he cried, and faded into the darkness. "NO! Come back Anakin! COME BACK.!" in place of the little body grew a flame. The flame grew and spread. Something or someone screamed, but was drowned out. The flames filled his vision, turning white hot. In a flash, he was blinded. When his vision returned, he was seated in a green room. Someone was standing just out of site, and he couldn't turn to see them. "He's having his fun now, Obi. He's exploring and discovering, and he doesn't /need/ you right now. But don't worry," the familiar voice came closer, and stood in front of him. He saw the being as a black outline against lime-green lighting. He recognized the figure, human, female, familiar. "I can take care of him." He sensed, rather than saw, a smile. "You remember, Friend Obi-Wan. You remember the last time, when you and I explored the city together. You remember all I showed you. Two years seniority gives you nothing to real-life experience. You remember." Yes, he did. Obi-Wan no longer felt the confusion over who this was. his voice sounded in his dream. He woke up.
Anakin spent several more days with Rogue Bleidarc, each one as eventful, if not more so, than the last. She showed him amzing things, both of the Force, and of the purely non-Jedi life. They tangled with danger, and she preferred to allow him to get involved with everything, then saving him once he got in too deep. He found himself wishing more and more that she had remained in the Temple, and taken him on as a Padawan. What good times they would have had! So much better than all the stiff formality Obi-Wan gave him.
Of course, he realized each night, as he went over the days thoughts in his head, always reaching the same conclusion. Of course, if she had stayed at the Temple, she probably wouldn't have been half as fun a person. Life was better this way, away from physical, mental, and immaterial confines of the rigid regime.
Anakin had had strange dreams before. But usually, they were purely his. The one he was having now could not have been a product of his mind.
He was in someone's room. It could have been his, by the make. Standard for any Jedi. Except instead of droids buzzing around the room, and parts hanging on the walls, there were only a few colorful pictures. And someone was sitting on the floor. A little girl, smiling up at him. It looked like there was something wrong with her face. One eye was open wider than the other, her mouth pulled up a bit more on one side, and one ear seemed bent forward. And her left arm was thin and shriveled looking. An odd gurgling sound issued from her throat. "Don't worry. She won't be here long." A voice said. An unfamiliar Jedi was leaning against the wall nearby. He had black skin and no eyebrows. "They're getting rid of her soon."
Anakin felt an inexplicable wave of pity wash over him. He wanted to say something. She can stay. They don't have to take her. Who are they? The fuzzy image changed. The deformed little girl was still there, but instead of smiling, her warped mouth was open like she was trying to scream. The only sound she made, however, was a higher pitched gurgle of protest. A yellow light was on her, and four bulky figures moved to pick her up. The gurgle intensified, and the girl cast a frightened glance at Anakin. Her mouth closed and opened again. And in his mind he heard what she wanted to say. He tried to move to stop the large people from stuffing her into a box. A box?
This was sick. He started shouting at them to leave the poor girl alone. This was inhuman! THEY WERE STUFFING HER INTO A BOX!
"Anakin. Now would be a good time to wake up." Said Rogue, quite firmly. So he did. "Rogue! What in the nine Corellian hells was that?" he asked. Rogue looked at him sadly. That would be one of my memories. Too long away from the Temple, I guess. I'm never around other Jedi, so I don't have to worry about projecting thoughts and dreams. Sorry, Ani."
Anakin looked at her incredulously. "That was an actual memory? That really happened? He was aware of the fact that his voice had started to squeak, but ignored it. Rogue nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. She didn't really have a name, but I called her Glug. Because that was the sound she made. She was. a pet. Some sponsor or something had come to the Temple, and insisted on this whole accompaniment. Totally threw off our schedules and everything. I still remember the pompous bastard. Anyway, Glug was in a box that one of his. servants was carrying, and when they stopped somewhere this servant put her down and she ran, or rather, crawled away, and found her way into my dorm. They didn't even notice she was missing until the next day. I found her and tried to talk to her, when I found out that her owner," Rogue said the word like it was a dirty one, "didn't even consider her human, and wanted her back, I tried to show everyone that she was just like a child. They wouldn't listen. She was taken away. I lost. Sorry you had to see it."
Anakin was too. But mostly, he was angry.
Master Yoda, head of the Jedi Council, stared thoughtfully at nothing for a time. "Not the first, will this be, that Wal-Hali the Rogue has brought us, in the past seven years, a missing Padawan. Sure you are, of what you saw, Master Kenobi?" Obi-Wan straightened even more stiffly than before, if that was even possible. "Yes. I'm sure of it." He answered, trying to look confidant. The members of the Jedi council looked at each other and passed thoughts without words. Then Master Yoda spoke up. "Investigate this, we shall. In the meantime, continue trying to contact him, you must."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes sir. But do we know where Wal-Hali is. I mean, has she actually kept contact after she left the Temple?" he asked. At this, he was rewarded with silent stares for a few moments. Finally, Mace Windu spoke up. "We don't know where she actually is at the moment. However, we are sure she is on Coruscant, and your ostensible visions seem to prove this. We have kept a loose trace of her inconsistent employment records. It should be no trouble locating her after we find a place she has kept regular service at. Be at peace, Master Kenobi. Your Padawan will soon be found." Obi-Wan nodded, but his dead master's friend's words did little to comfort the turmoil in his mind.
As he forced himself to walk calmly back to his own quarters, he considered the emotions roiling inside of him. Anxiety, shame, anger, frustration. and a little bit of excitement. After all, he hadn't seen Wal-Hali in over seven years. He had changed a lot. Had she?
These thoughts continued to distract him throughout the day. Luckily, Jedi Master Yaddle was thoughtful enough to send some food up to his room, lest he starve himself.
Anakin watched silently with eyes half closed, as he both saw and felt the Force moving about the little room. Rogue was multi-tasking in the most spectacular way. At first glance, she seemed completely absorbed in staring at a small datapad in her hand. However, around the room, several objects were moving, seemingly of their own accord. Last night's dishes, which had been left unattended near the cooler-crate, we being rubbed vigorously by a rough wet rag, directed by an immaterial hand. Clothes that had been scattered about the sleeping room were flying through the maroon curtain, folding themselves in midair, and rushing back. And a bowl of fruit was rearranging itself in a more aesthetically pleasing manner. Rogue held the datapad in her right hand, the one with the glove, and bit from a piece of fruit in the other.
She suddenly noticed that Ani had stopped eating. "What?" she asked, before taking another bite. He blinked. "How do you do that?" Rogue chewed thoughtfully. "Do what?" she asked after swallowing. Anakin rolled his eyes, then gestured with his hands. "Do all that? Concentrate on three things at once, and still be able to eat and read, all at the same time!" His hostess smiled and tossed a pit into a trash receptacle. He had already learned that automatic recyclers didn't work down here, and though Rogue was more than capable of fixing up one, she preferred taking full crates of trash and dumping them down dark pits. She was very strange, but her oddities were understandably satisfying. "Natural talent. Plus a woman's innate ability to do several things at once." She smiled broadly. "Well, I'm about done, and I don't have any jobs today." She tossed the datapad onto the makeshift table and reached for another piece of fruit. "So, let's talk."
"About what?" Anakin couldn't think of anything he knew about that might possibly interest her in the least bit (that he would want to reveal just yet.) "Oh, I don't know. How about these pills I found in your clothes last night?" she pulled out the packet of gaily colored flying pills that the other girl had given him at the club the previous night. Anakin hastily tried to explain, feeling guiltier by the second. Meanwhile, Rogue's gray- blue eyes bored into him. When he finished his (seemingly) pathetic story, Rogue snorted derisively. "Vewlef." she spat. "I really should reconsider the company I keep sometimes. Yes, Ani, these little babies would make you fly. For about ten minutes. Then, with your anatomy especially, you'd probably be dead." She turned and saw the shocked look on Anakin's face. "Don't worry, kid. Vewlef wasn't trying to poison you. He was probably so drunk he couldn't tell you were a human, a kid, and cleaner than an ambassador's shiny rump." She laughed. "Maybe not that clean."
She stood up and retrieved one of her famous green bottles and took a large gulp. "Er. Rogue? Isn't it a little early to be, well, drinking?" His look of concern touched her. Ani may have been a typical teenager in many ways, but he was certainly a tenderfoot at times. "Definitely!" she said, and took another swig. "But after awhile, you get dependant. And I honestly do love the taste. One of the good things about understanding your personal freedom once you get it. You can allow yourself to get hooked on anything, and you don't care. Besides, it's healthy to have a few self-destructive habits."
Anakin wasn't so sure this was a good thing. He'd seen the heavy boozers at bars in Mos Espa. They spent all their time drowning in the poison of their choice, never giving themselves the time to get out and earn them by doing a little bit of work. It was disgusting to watch them. However, he had to admit, with Rogue, it was a little endearing. Something he identified her by.
But there was something else he identified her by. "Rogue? What. Why do you always wear that glove? I've never seen you take it off." Rogue looked down at her right hand as though she had only just noticed it. "This? Now this is a long story. And a little gruesome. You sure you want to know?"
Anakin nodded, and she sighed. "Very well then. Most of you ask eventually anyway. Go over to that shelf and get me the medium sized tool. The one with the row of bubbles on the handle." Anakin did as she said, pulling a crate over to act as a stool so he could see up onto the shelf. He handed the tool to her and sat down again, watching with fascination as she worked several clasps and such at the base of the glove. There was a click and a hiss, and she set the thing down, then grabbed to glove by the middle finger and yanked.
Anakin's eyes followed to glove, and so, for a moment, did not see her exposed hand underneath. When he did, he stifled a gasp. "Your hand...!"
Master Kenobi did not stay in his quarters for very long. He was grateful for the food he had been sent, but he was still troubled by the excitement he felt at the prospect of seeing Wal-Hali. After a long time of arguing with himself, he went down to the library to find the records that troubled him.
It was not such a difficult task. The files he wanted were readily available to any curious Jedi with a bit of time on his hands. Once he had them, he took out a vid-viewer and loaded them in, one at a time.
There were a lot of two-dimensional images, as well as a few 3D's. He flipped through them slowly, savoring them like choice morsals. There were vids of training sessions and debates, regular class lessons, and some of Jedi at their free time. The ones he sought contained those of Wal-Hali Bleidarc. And he found plenty of them.
There were many early files. Some up to 25 years old. He'd found some labeled further back, but he wasn't looking for baby pictures. He just wanted to see his friend as he remembered her. Match up the woman from his dreams to what his temporarily ravaged mind told him he remembered. And there she was.
A girl of about nine, standing happily next to her new Master. In the background, a boy under the protective arm of another Master, smiling at them with equal enthusiasm. In another shot, the same girl, slightly older, staring intently at a datapad, apparently unaware that she was being watched. Another, blindfolded, sparing with another, unknown Padawan, as others watched on, this one in motion. Small subtitles had been added to indicate what moves were being performed, and a colored dot to indicate how well each move was executed. All were in the higher ranges for Wal-Hali. A silent moving vid of her, hair slightly longer than the dress-code usually allowed for their species, a faint trace of small wounds healing, standing next to her master in a similar state, out of Jedi garb as though they had just gotten back from a particularly rough assignment. And Wal-Hali was holding something. A zoom revealed it to be a brand new lightsaber. She flipped the handle nonchalantly backwards, then flipped it on, and began showing off. The blade was a deep heliotrope, and seemed oddly thick. She flipped a switch of some kind on the handle, and the blade widened, vibrating somehow, giving it the look of two separate blades, scissor-like. The expression on her master's face was unreadable, somewhere in the vicinity of proud and exasperated. It was common enough to Padawan's to experiment with modifications on their sabers for awhile, but few actually invented something new the first time around. Few being none, as far as he knew.
Obi-Wan watched this for awhile, smiling. He remembered that saber. It had been difficult to spare against, because the blade seemed to be in two places at once. Even if you did manage to to strike a hit on that thing, it was most unnerving. It sent vibrations down the length of your own blade, and if you held for too long, it would start to buzz, then hum in a most infuriatingly musical way. However, it was almost as difficult to control as to spar against. The phantom blades were tiringly innacurate, and she usually turned off the effect for serious duels.
There were plenty more vids of her sparring matches, both mandatory and extracurricular. Obi-Wan remembered that the younger always had a taste for art, and though she claimed to dislike sparring, in any form, she put in a lot of extra time to her practices, to make it "look" better. Never mind that she became a champion in the meantime.
Obi-Wan smiled as he went over clips from the "free-time documentary" files, showing Jedi Padawan, Knight, and Master alike, taking part in all manner of extramural activies. He could see her at all ages, reading, painting, eating, talking, just as though she was still there, although she was just about 8 her normal size. There were several in which he noted he seemed to be included. Especially one in particular, where he seemed to be posing for her as she painted a portrait of him. He studied it for awhile, as the picture on her canvas came to life. Pity, but he couldn't remember doing that. Nor what had happened to the picture.
When those ran out, however, he ran across one of the last vids in the pack. A three-D, of what was obviously a very solemn funeral. In the center was a interment pyre, flames blazing around a still body. Surrounding this were many figures clad in full robes, pulled over each head in mourning. Obi-Wan remembered this well, as he had attnded it live. There, he could see, next to Qui-Gonn. his heart wrenched as he was swirled into another painful abyss of memories, mixed images. Flames licking over a corpse; Wal- Hali's master, his own Qui-Gonn, burning, burning, burning away. . .
"Master Kenobi?" a voice startled him, and he almost yelled, causing the young Jedi who had tapped him to jump back in surprise. "Sorry!" he yelped. Obi- Wan shook his head to clear it, and focused. "What?" he asked, a little more impatiently than he should have. The Padawan looked hurt. "Nothing. It's only that, you started to. . . project a lot of neg . . . well, a lot of energy, and. the librarian asked me to see if you were okay." he took another step back and bowed his head shamefully. "It's alright." Obi-Wan felt bad that he didn't even know this youngster's name, "I'm alright. Just a bad memory. I'm fine. Thank you."
He ignored the other Jedi as he unloaded the files again. This had not been as fruitful an exercise as he had hoped.
End Chapter 2
Notes: I may not be an Xmen fan, but I am a Bjork fan. At first the beer
name was unintentional, but now it has a point. You can get drunk on
Bjork's music. Get it?
Hash'chki sticks based partly on Atlantis fun and
partly on simple chopsticks (hashi).
Oh, you knew Qui-Gonn had to come in
at some time! Don't worry, it won't happen again. Apologies for the dream
sequence as well, and for any "Mary-Sue"-nesses that appear in Rogue. And someone tell me, what do you call a young, masterless Jedi.
Not a Padawan, and certainly not an Initiate. But that's all the words I
basically know. Say, Ronin?
I'm thinking I might have wanted a beta, particularly for this chapter. Too late now.