SPINDLE OF FATE
by Cascadia
See Chapter One for notes, disclaimer, etc.
Reviewer replies are located at the end of the chapter.
OO OO OO
CHAPTER FOUR
Qui-Gon's attention seemed to be drifting. The Jedi master leaned a bit too heavily on the sofa arm, Obi-Wan thought, and his face conveyed something like physical distress.
"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked in concern.
Qui-Gon immediately smiled and sat up straighter, though slow in his movements. "I'm just a little dizzy. Nothing important." He took a casual sip of his tea while Obi-Wan watched. "Look." His hand thrust up to point somewhere above the couch, and Obi-Wan followed the direction. "Look," he repeated, "up on the shelf. I wanted to keep them where I could see them whenever I wanted."
The young man bounded up from the sofa and looked on the shelf. "It's my . . ." his voice fell away in a hush, overwhelmed by awe, by a remembrance of a long unseen treasure.
"Yes," Qui-Gon laughed quietly, his joy bubbling up at seeing Obi-Wan's reaction. "It's your lightsabre." He rose to his feet to stand alongside Obi-Wan. "And," he pointed to a dark form next to it, "your old rock." The last word was emphasized huskily, with enthusiasm he had not felt for far too many years.
"My rock." Obi-Wan smiled and then picked up the weapon, the grip fitting as naturally as it ever had, still an extension of him in some ways. After a moment of examining the 'sabre with near reverence he placed it back on the shelf and scooped up the rock. "Warm," his voice came out soft. "Just like I remembered," he added even as happiness transformed his aspect; his face came aglow in mirth long buried. "Everything is."
Qui-Gon sank back to the sofa. "Yes," he stated. "Everything."
Slipping down next to the Jedi master, Obi-Wan let out a contented sighed and nodded. As he continued to stare at the rock, thumbs rubbing the hard, flecked surface, he went on: "Anyway, the ride to . . . wherever Xanatos called home – and I still don't know what planet I was on – the ride was . . ." He shuddered, then shook his head. . . .
O
Obi-Wan had been here forever, it seemed. Thick, impenetrable blackness . . . . Shadowless, lightless. Swallowed in living dark.
He tried to breathe calmly, tried to keep himself still - beyond a brief readjustment of his posture and limbs to keep some sense of comfort, but there was barely enough room for that. Long ago he had stretched out curious hands, testing the limits of his prison, horrified to find it a very small, very cramped environment.
So small.
A stab of sorrow coursed through him as his thoughts shifted to Qui-Gon. So long since he had felt that gentle comforting presence in the back of his mind. Or seen the warm smile and tender regard of Qui-Gon's face. Through it all, one thing had kept him from sinking into desolation: Qui-Gon was going to free him in some way. He did not understand it; he had stopped trying to. Many times he had imagined Qui-Gon fighting his way past Xanatos and a whole army of execrable characters, brilliant light breaking through the open door to reveal his master with lightsabre in hand, come to free him.
"How much longer, Master?" he whispered faintly in the pitch black.
A sudden metallic clattering made him jerk back involuntarily, then realized what it had been. Drawing in a few slow gulps of air seemed to soothe his nerves, then he reached blindly for the small bowl and cup they had left for him. Somehow there was a panel through which his food was slid in to him. Every day, every night . . . Not one bead of light ever spilled in.
So dark . . .
An unsteady hand clawed down his neck, angrily clutched and tugged at the edge of his open vest. He kicked at the collection of dirty cups and bowls - once counted to estimate the passage of time - residing at his feet. The dishes clanked. A cup rolled and banged against a wall.
Silence, once more.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them again. Still nothing but black . . .
"Force, help me." A trembling whisper.
Wrapping his arms around himself, he pulled his knees up to his chest and quivered delicately as fear fluttered at the pit of his stomach.
"Control yourself." The words were soft but urgent. Panicked?
He had to get out of here, he had to . . . Before he lost all control and begged Xanatos to let him out.
O
The darkness called to Obi-Wan . . . . Reaching, touching, consuming. He felt its icy phantom fingers inching along his skin, coursing through his veins, making him its own. How long had he been here? There was nothing but perpetual black.
"Master?" His breathy whisper pierced the ebon nothingness around him. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge the trembling in his voice. It was only his imagination, a trick of his mind. Xanatos was doing it to him. The former Jedi was determined to break him; Obi-Wan knew he was.
Straightening out his knee, he heard his boot scrape across the floor. Even the sound failed to conjure up any mental images. He blinked fruitlessly.
"When are you coming, Master?"
He waited for an answer. There might be one, mightn't there? Maybe if he waited long enough he would hear one. Maybe . . .
"It's dark here, Master . . . . Dark . . . and . . ." Was that him whose breath sounded so ragged? "Remember the time on . . . Ynona? When you couldn't find me? You thought I got lost on the forest's trail." He paused with the slightest hint of a smile. "I never told you that I got lost in that cave you told me to stay away from. It was dark there too, in the cave." The smile disappeared. "When I finally found my way out I was afraid to tell you . . . ."
Hugging himself tightly, he stifled an almost overwhelming urge to cry out, to ask to be let out if only for a little while. That would be begging. And he would never do that.
"Master," Obi-Wan softly gasped, dropping his head to his hands and frantically rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Please, Force! Don't leave me here!" He swallowed convulsively as he felt nausea sweep over him. With it came a cold sweat. He had almost thrown up several times already, and would have if he had not stopped eating. His thoughts seemed to tremble.
Without warning, light blasted in like a river breaking forth through a dam, gleaming bright and bold and harsher than corporeal sunlight dazzling a summer noon. It flooded over him, drenching and pushing away the heavy ocean of darkness.
And it hurt his eyes.
Xanatos stood watching the figure huddled in the corner of the small cell, a wide bar of light falling from the doorway to lie across the boy. Obi-Wan moaned, listlessly moving his arms to cover his face from the harsh illumination while pressing farther into the corner behind him.
Stepping inside the cell, Xanatos noticed several full bowls of uneaten food and cups of water. A couple days worth, at least. Apparently the boy had stopped eating at some point.
He crouched in front of Obi-Wan. "Would you like to come out?" he asked kindly, noted the boy's slight trembling.
Obi-Wan remained silent, withdrawn, covering his face with both arms.
"Turn the lights down," Xanatos directed to someone outside the door.
Immediately the illumination dimmed to a soft warm glow.
Being as gentle as he could, he placed a tentative hand on Obi-Wan's arm. With a shuddering gasp the padawan twisted away from the touch.
Xanatos drew an impatient breath. "You don't want to stay in the dark, do you, Obi-Wan?"
No, he definitely did not want that! But he would never admit it. Hesitantly, the padawan stole a squinting look from behind his arms. His thoughts were muddled, his vision distorted, but he was sure he recognized Xanatos.
Xanatos smiled, not unpleasantly. "Come on, Obi-Wan. Let's go." He stretched out a hand towards the padawan.
"I can't wait," Obi-Wan mumbled in his disorientation, trying to sound sarcastic but failing hopelessly. Slowly, he blinked to clear his vision. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Xanatos burst out in laugher, let his hand drop, smile marginally fading. "Oh, Obi-Wan, you really have been around Qui-Gon too long. Like you have a choice." He sobered coldly. "Let me put it this way: you can come under your own power, or you can come unconscious and hoisted over someone's shoulder. What'll it be, slave?"
Obi-Wan's wary gaze followed Xanatos' hand that darted out toward him again, felt the faintest tingle of unease travel up his spine.
"You don't want anyone to hurt you, do you?" Xanatos goaded.
Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder at that. The slavers had already hurt him more than he dared to admit. But he knew it would be useless to resist; the former Jedi would do what he wanted anyway. He shook his head in bleak resignation.
Triumph danced across Xanatos' features. "Then come with me now. We're leaving the ship."
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan accepted the beckoning hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. He wavered and had to place a hand on the taller man's shoulder to steady himself. He was weak from not eating, confused by being confined in darkness for so long. Now standing, his joints felt stiff, his back ached. Within the dimness his mind was veiled in, he realized a heavy cloak was draped around his bare shoulders. Then there were arms bracing him, keeping him from collapsing to the deck like he felt like doing.
Xanatos took him through comparatively overbright corridors to a yawning hatch where hazy gray rain colored dim the world beyond. Obi-Wan's hood was drawn up, hiding his face deep within its shadowed recess, and they disembarked the craft.
Evening air chilled with heavy drops. Obi-Wan breathed in deeply; the refreshing cleanness of uncirculated air filled his lungs, invigorating his still slightly fogged mind. Spaceships of every size packed the cramped lanes of a prodigious spaceport. Now outside in the open air, he took a furtive peek at Xanatos' ship. The large vessel was ever so much greater in girth than he had remembered on the one occasion he had seen it. It was then he noticed the young cabin boy, Tasten, was following them.
They hurried along the port's crowded walkways, beside a giant edifice domed by violet mosaic tiles that glinted darkly with rain, and out into the less constricted streets of some nondescript galactic city that the padawan could not immediately place; a mélange of beings sputtered past them, none giving them so much as a glance. Here they slowed their pace, Xanatos' vice-like grip on Obi-Wan's arm, however, did not relent.
When they stopped finally, Obi-Wan cast a searching eye, looking for any sign or symbol that would inform him of where he was. To his dismay, he could find nothing noteworthy, and he was pushed in the back compartment of a private air car before long. Xanatos set the car on auto-pilot and retired to the bench seat across from the padawan.
The car passed beyond the brilliant heart of the city, lights becoming more sporadic, until the conveyance was enshrouded within a mournful night and isolated in the deep wilds of a bucolic land.
Obi-Wan remained silent throughout the flight, albeit uncomfortable with the former Jedi's darkly malevolent gaze staring through him. Obi-Wan saw bustling market squares give way to battered establishments; glittering canals turned to stagnant pools and dense vegetation. Finally purple fields stretched to the foot of sable mountain ranges under a medley of iridescent moons.
The car stopped at the base of a sheer rock cliff that thrust up jaggedly from the ground. When they exited the vehicle, Obi-Wan gazed up at the daunting granite structure. Scattered copses of thick trees carpeted tier upon rock tier, winding around the cliff to the very top where a forbidding stone edifice stood seemingly aloof. It appeared to be just another part of the rock cliff, half-concealed by a circling gloomy mist. But upon closer scrutiny, perfectly ordered lights could be descried glowing softly out of windows.
The atmosphere was still humid from the rain. Xanatos steered Obi-Wan up a steep, precarious pathway of rough-hewn stone steps smoothed by the passage of time and the working of the elements. Treacherously, it scaled up along the cliff face with no guardrail or any other safety precaution. Rain puddled darkly in depressions and uneven rock, slickening the stones and making slow their progress.
As Obi-Wan glimpsed the dark silhouettes of mountains hemming in his world, he wondered when he would taste freedom again.
Or if he ever would.
O
Bright light gleamed off of ivory tiles. Icy beneath Obi-Wan's bare feet, the tiny ceramic squares brought chill bumps to his skin. He felt cold.
This whole place was cold.
He dropped the leather vest and trousers that he had been wearing for more days than he knew, their black color boldly contrasting the cool tiled floor, and thrust an upraised palm in the shooting water. It was delightfully hot.
He stepped underneath a hot jet spray, felt the liquid heat surging over his hair, sheeting his face, down his chest, his legs, warming his feet.
He could almost imagine he was home.
He picked up the bar of soap that smelled piquantly medicinal and worked up a lather. It was good to bathe again. Good to feel the warmth of clean water and smell of something that did not reek.
A sinister unease crept through him. Despite any similarities to Dimisfree this was disturbingly different. Not that the time there had been free of trouble, but this time Qui-Gon did not know where he was.
The steamy gush of soapy water felt invigorating and soothing to his senses as it swept over naked skin, taking days of built-up grime and filth down a silver drain nestled at the bottom of the shower stall. His gaze wandered to a thin towel waiting on the floor as he turned off the water.
He had been left him here. Locked in a meager room with an adjoining 'fresher. A small hospital-type cot, nondescript gray dresser, and a simple chair decorated the room. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he left the shower stall. But . . .
He still felt cold.
After swiping across the frosted mirror, he gazed at his bleary self. His hands paused over the mapping of bruises over his body. His ribs had mostly healed by now, the binding having been removed just after he arrived here. It still hurt to breathe, however, and he had been given him nothing for the pain
His gaze roamed around the room. There were no windows.
No way out but the door.
He turned to the door, an open palm extended to trigger the release, and flinched back when the metal panel abruptly hissed open. A very tall, very alien looking character stood in the open doorway, almost menacing in his posture and aspect.
If it was human at all Obi-Wan assumed it was of some mongrel breed. Sparse black hairs sprinkled the scalp of an elongated, malformed skull. Dark blotches mottled a rudimentary nose and around two yellow eyes - one larger and glassier than the other - pierced with crescent pupils. The smaller eye narrowed, fixing the padawan with a lopsided, menacing glare.
Obi-Wan took an unconscious step backward before he remembered himself. He was a Jedi. "What do you want?" he ventured cautiously. A nervous tingle ran through his belly, but he refused to acknowledge it.
The man ignored the query and bent to pick up the leather garments Obi-Wan had left on the floor.
"Hey," the padawan barked, "those are my clothes."
Standing again, the man grunted incoherently through long thin lips and wadded the clothes-in-question into a ball that he tucked under an arm.
"My. Clothes." Obi-Wan repeated distinctly, aggravation mounting. He pointed sharply to them, then to himself, hoping this was a simple communication problem.
The man turned and stalked out of the 'fresher. Obi-Wan followed the tall figure closely, intent to not let this creature take the only thing he had to wear besides the towel wrapped around his hips.
"You will not take my clothes. I have to wear them." Obi-Wan's frustration waxed as he realized that he had attempted the Jedi mind trick, forgetting that his Force access was blocked. He huffed, tightened his jaw.
At the door of the padawan's modest room, the man punched in a code, and the panel immediately slid open. He uttered some other unintelligible remark, one hand raised in a halting gesture and then lumbered out.
Obi-Wan lurched toward the open door and suddenly halted when a tall figure inserted itself in the way, its arms outstretched and palms lightly resting on doorjambs.
"Oh, come now, Obi-Wan," Xanatos admonished sarcastically. "A slave like you should know that nothing is 'yours'."
Obi-Wan tried not to notice the insufferable smile that pulled at Xanatos' lips. The padawan crossed his arms in defiance.
"I'm glad to see you've already met Yulo. Saves me from having to introduce you," Xanatos chuckled, though no humor infused his voice. His deep cobalt eyes darted behind Obi-Wan, and Xanatos' smile frosted. "You'll find your new attire on the bedspread."
O
"I was there most of the time that I've been gone," Obi-Wan informed Qui-Gon, who sat quiet, growing ever more disturbed by the young man's story. "He tried to break me down, make me a true slave in mind as well as in everything else. He . . ." a ragged catch in his throat halted Obi-Wan's account, and when he could go on no further he sprang to his feet and charged to the wide windowsill.
Pressing both hands to the cold transparency, the young man leaned against its glassy smooth surface in desperate search for any support to keep him from collapsing to knees that shook. He closed his eyes, but the nightmare memory lingered unfading.
Qui-Gon saw the heaving shoulders, heard the uneven breaths. "Padawan," he said softly. Slow, measured steps brought him to stand behind Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon watched the pale young face mirrored in the window, laved in opal moonlight. There were no tears upon those cheeks. Only pain sculptured in soft, youthful strokes, midnight memories of a world gone horribly wrong.
"I tried to find the slave implant," Obi-Wan whispered with eyes closed still. "I would have done anything to escape and be myself again." His breathing steadied and he opened his eyes, now waxing misty. "It would not have been as bad had the consequences of my rebellion fallen solely upon myself," he said, guilt laced into his tone.
"The small boy, Tasten," Obi-Wan continued quietly. "I was allowed to spend time with him, I don't know why. I think the boy liked me . . . and I grew attached to him. . . . There was no other that showed me any kindness; Tasten was a lovely child, so sweet and thoughtful. But when Xanatos saw I felt for the boy he used him in attempts to make me conform. It was through the boy that Xanatos coerced me into calling him 'master'. But Xanatos knew simply conforming would not break me. He had to do something else, something that would reach inside me and that I would never forgive myself for letting happen." With that, Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped and he slid down the face of the window, crumbled to his knees, head bowed to rest against the sill.
Qui-Gon knelt beside him. But he felt useless; what ever could he do to heal this young man that he loved? The night fell darker still.
"I had begun to doubt . . . things," Obi-Wan murmured. "I remembered how you had relied so faithfully on the Force's guidance in Dimisfree, where I was tricked into selling myself into slavery there in order to get help for you," Obi-Wan paused. Suddenly he turned and looked straight into Qui-Gon's eyes, turned eyes shining with love on the Jedi master and Qui-Gon was stabbed by remorse, even guilt as the young man continued. "And I don't blame you at all for any of it. Not for anything at all."
Qui-Gon could not bear to meet that trusting gaze and peered away, past their faint mirrored reflections and into the sleepless traffic lanes.
"I don't blame you . . . Master," said Obi-Wan, using the title for the first time since his return. He slid a hand beneath the older man's chin and with gentle prodding brought Qui-Gon's eyes back to his.
There the moonlight sparkled in unfallen drops. They welled up as the dew of grief unspoken, and Qui-Gon willed them to vanish but in vain. His lips parted, in expectation of words, but the words did not come and he could do no more than stare shamefaced and heavyhearted into the innocent blue orbs of that pure bright soul.
Obi-Wan grasped Qui-Gon's hand and lightly squeezed. "And I don't blame the Force either." He looked down and shrugged helplessly. "I know I did . . . but there are things in this life that we will never understand. Who are we to question the workings of a greater power, as Yoda would say?" He fell into a calmer, more casual tone and leaned his shoulder against the window. "I have very vague and sketchy memories of the whole time I spent there. I was confused, on some experimental drug almost every day and when not, under such duress that I had never before experienced. And I had nightmares, awful nightmares every night, sometimes during the day. I think it was the drugs. Sometimes I think I was half out of my mind."
Qui-Gon listened, strangely drawn to the horror and the shock of so harrowing a five years. Five years endured by a loved one . . . .
OO OO OO
TO ALL: Thank you all for reading along! It reminds me what I first loved about putting stories up here. It's very nourishing for all the writers here to know that someone is reading what they've written. Thank you!
Clover Brandybuck: Glad you like my portrayal of Obi-Wan. :) Yes, he is starting to doubt, isn't he? Xanatos just showed up without my planning it, LOL! He has that forceful personality!
Stranded Stargazer: Nope, Xanatos just can't stay dead, LOL! :) Yes, Obi-Wan's trying to not think like a slave, but it's really hard not to do that in some circumstances.
LuvEwan: Evil Xanatos! I must admit I really enjoyed writing his sarcasm and the interaction with the slaver assistant. Who's the little boy? What little boy??? Just kidding!!!! ;)
Fudge: Glad you're pleased with Xanatos' presence. I really didn't intend on his showing up, but he insisted, LOL! And I'm so pleased you like my portrayal of him! He was such a different character for me to write and I enjoyed it very much! Thank you! :)
Athena Leigh: Simply being a slave isn't enough: Obi-Wan has to have an evil antagonist and Xanatos just sort of took the job without asking, LOL! I think he's the most forceful personality I've ever written!
CYNICAL21: Yes, it has been a long time! I'm glad you like my Obi-Wan portrayal, especially since I tried to capture both aspects you mentioned: strength and vulnerability! Oh, and Xanatos . . . He just showed up uninvited and demanded a part, LOL! :) I don't go to that other place anymore either, except to check on PM's. I have my own reasons that I won't bore you with. And I'd like to get caught up in your stories, and some others'. I think all of yours are here now, if I'm not mistaken.
Shanobi: Obi-Wan's had a hard five years. I thought he should feel odd being back home. . . . I knew you'd enjoy Xanatos showing up! :) I really didn't plan for him to, but he insisted, LOL! This story is done, but I've been making a few minor changes as I upload, things I think of that will hopefully improve it.... I must get caught up on your story! I haven't forgotten!!! :) It's nice to be posting again, but I think this will be my last story on the 'net. I don't know, it just seems to take up a lot of time that I could be doing something else, and I feel enslaved (which is appropriate to this story, LOL!) to the computer, like I have to be on it even if I don't want to. I don't know if that makes any sense, but, oh well... :)
Sheila: Lucky day for Xanatos! It wasn't only a surprise for Obi-Wan that the former Jedi showed up there, but for me too! :)
KrystalBlaze - Jerikor: Bingo! That's why Obi-Wan's there! ;) Glad you like the addition of Xanatos. Oh, I love your enthusiasm!!! And thanks for the welcome back! :)