Chapter Five

Obi-Wan circled his small, borrowed ship around Industrial City with only a fraction of his attention - most of it was secured on the bleak landscape below. The city, little more than an eyesore the last two times he'd been there, now looked positively destroyed.

From his vantage point he could see the wreckage of numerous ships that had apparently been shot down. Large portions of the buildings had also been burnt away, leaving nothing but twisted shells behind. Fires still burned in some sections, thickening the air with smoke.

But not a single bit of movement.

He focused on his breathing and calmed the tight, twisting feeling crawling up his chest into his throat.

Is there anyone at all left alive down there?

Pushing away that question almost as soon as it appeared, he found a relatively clear area to land and made sure he was roughly disguised as anything but a Jedi apprentice before exiting the ship.

The smell almost made his stumble back inside.

He briefly covered his mouth with his hand before forcing himself onward, cursing himself and, in a moment of rebellion, the Council for sending them on that ridiculous diplomatic mission instead of back here.

There hadn't even been any need for intervention! The two parties had made their deal for the most part, they were just squabbling over petty details. The arrival of Jedi had been more of a symbolic warning to move things along than anything else. A complete waste of time.

All while people were dying here, he thought as he passed the half burnt corpse of a man.

By the time they'd gotten back, Obi-Wan had been hard at work fighting back a feeling of disgust and left the hanger without a word to Qui-Gon - ignoring the calling of his name behind him as he headed for Dex's. He was sure Qui-Gon knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing, but at that point he'd found it hard to care.

He slowed his strides and forced himself to find calm and focus. Despite looking and feeling completely devoid of any life, he'd rather not be ambushed or stumble across a droid because he was careless.

But his stealth turned out to be for naught, because he came across not one living being. Many dead, but no living. He'd even seen only one feebly twitching droid.

His hopes at finding Buffy at home dropped significantly when he finally caught sight of the building. While having managed to avoid being burnt to the ground, a ship had plowed through one side of it, causing a partial collapse. He decided to take a look anyway – this may have been uninhabitable to most, but things the Factory District were obviously more desperate than usual. This might be all there was for some people…

The first thing that caught his eye was the reinforced door that had previously stood where there was now nothing but twisted frame. Laying deep inside the hallway, it had obviously been blown off by some great force – one that had nothing to do with the ship that had crashed into the other side of the building.

Briefly laying his hand on his light saber, he moved cautiously further inside. He sensed nothing, but something about this place felt… wrong. Much different that the place of solace it had obviously served as the last time he'd visited.

He knelt by the door when he reached it, running a hand over the dented surface and wondering what could've done such damage without leaving any outward sign of what caused it. His first thought was that of the Force, but that would be ridiculous. Giving it one last curious look, he stood and continued on.

He barely made it one step into Buffy's room before freezing. Breath stuttered to a halt as he found himself staring at the formerly neatly made bed, now in a disarray with the rumbled imprint of a body and blood soaked blotches.

"Buffy!"

Her named echoed through the halls as he threw stealth to the wind and proceeded to tear through each room searching for her. He found much of the same throughout – blood stains and signs of death but no bodies.

When he reached the back of the building, he found out why.

He hadn't seen this part during his visit, but it seemed as if the residents had tried to make a small garden outside. Blocked off from roaming droids and those with cruel intent with a rudimentary fence of scraps, sprouting life grew from the little squares in the dusty ground.

And among them were many fresh graves.

Some were very small.

Each had a rough cross and a name and he stopped at each one, reading the name out loud and apologizing as he committed them to memory. These were people that Buffy had tried to protect. Not criminals, just ordinary people trying to survive terrible circumstances.

People the Council had failed. People he had failed.

When he got to Bria he knelt down and bowed his head, remembering the tired young mother. As he fought down swirling emotions that just weren't allowed, he put a hand to his head and felt the scrap of fabric he'd used as part of his disguise. He pulled it off in a fit of anger - the braid swaying beside his face mocked him and he had a sudden savage impulse to just cut it off.

Taking a deep breath, he stayed kneeling and focused on those dangerous emotions. He found he couldn't just make them dissipate like he could lesser emotions, but he did manage to not let them rule his heart.

It took far longer than it should have…

When he felt more himself, he forced himself to his feet, continuing his trek through the sad final resting place for the innocent of Feral City. Despite the horrible feeling of helplessness and guilt that refused to be meditated away, when he reached the last grave he felt the stirrings of hope as well.

Buffy's name wasn't listed on any of those markers.

Spotting the crude shovel made from old industrial parts, he felt that hope shrivel slightly. If she wasn't in any of the graves, did that mean she'd made them? Had she had to bury all the people she'd sworn to protect?

And, if so, just where was she now?


The sight was one to be remembered, if anyone had been around to see it.

Slavis Greely, a symbol of fear and power in Feral City for many years, was bleeding and cowering against a wall like so many he'd ordered the deaths of in the past.

And The Slayer, a symbol of hope and protection, dirt covered and dead eyed as she advanced on the pleading crime boss with the promise of pain.

His escape ship had been shot down and, ironically, crashed into his own office with a burst of flames, leaving Slavis burnt and mortally wounded but not dead.

"Glad to see you made it out alive, Slavis," she said as she advanced on him leisurely.

Double pupiled eyes blinked at her rapidly, trying to clear away the blood that dripped into them.

"Didn't think you cared, Slayer," he rasped out.

"Can't get answers from a dead man."

He huffed out a laugh along with a little blackish blood. "Guess you've got a bloodlust in you after all. And here I thought you'd be scrambling to save my life because it was your sacred duty of some other stupid nonsense."

She seemed to pause at that, brow crinkling slightly before giving a cold grin.

"No, Slavis, no 'stupid nonsense' like that."

"So you want answers? What makes you think I have any?"

She squatted down in front of him, hands dangling between her knees, deceptively small and innocuous looking – he knew better, he'd seen what those hands could do.

"You're dying," she said, not blinking as she stared into his eyes. "There's no question about that. The only mystery left to that is how much pain you're going to be in before the end comes."

Turned out he did have some answers after all…


When Obi Wan parked Dex's ship, the last thing on his mind was Qui Gon. So when the door lowered and he stepped out, coming face to face with his Master, there was no time to cover the rolling pit of emotions inside him.

And honestly, he wasn't sure if he would have even if he'd had the opportunity.

The drone of ships and chatter in all languages drifted up around them as they stared at each other. A passing gust blew his braid across his face, as if a reminder, and he gritted his teeth.

"Your mind and heart are clouded," Qui Gon said, his soft words almost lost on the wind.

"They are," he readily admitted.

"What did you find in the Antipodes?"

"Death."

Qui Gon closed his eyes briefly, a burst of sadness brushing Obi Wan's senses.

"We can send in-"

"There's no point," Obi Wan interrupted, finishing his descent and passing Qui Gon by without a look. "There are no survivors there."

It was three days before he found his calm and managed to keep hold of it.

He thought if he could just find Buffy he'd regain his sense of peace. What happened in the Factory District was a terrible tragedy, but if he could find her, know that she was alright, then things could go back to the way they were before.

He was wrong.


Buffy ignored the slanted glances from those that knew who she was as she walked in the diner and scanned the place for Bal. He wasn't hard to spot, especially with a blue hand waving her down.

"This place sucks worse than the Industrial Zone," she grunted as she slid in the booth across from him.

"You wanted some place that the Black Sun had a presence in," Bal said with an unrepentant shrug. "And there are plenty here that could use your special brand of help."

He certainly wasn't lying about that. While it lacked the overwhelming ratio of criminal to Regular Joe that the Industrial Zone had, and you didn't have to be on the lookout for feral droids around every corner, there were a lot more people/aliens here.

A LOT.

So while the percentage of criminal to noncriminal was better, the odds of running into an assclown that needed his butt kicked were actually higher because of the population. She'd only been here a couple weeks and the title Slayer was already becoming known from the volume of beatings she'd had to hand out. She was also gaining somewhat of a fan club, which was a little freaky….

What she was missing though, was any semblance of warmth or home...

"Any news on Alec?" She asked, trying not to sound like she was worrying too much and failing miserably.

Bal shook his head and popped something slimy and purple in his mouth. He started to speak but Buffy held up a hand to stop him.

"Finish chewing whatever that it is first, please. It looks like it's trying to escape."

He gave a shameless grin that showed too much but did as she asked.

"I'm not on Naboo much," he said after he'd swallowed. "It was easier when they were scrambling to get a new queen – more focus on internal politics and less on trade ships. They got a new one now and I'm not sure what she's doing but it's got the Trade Federation poking around a lot. I got no interest in getting noticed by them."

"But it's safe?"

"Yeah, yeah," he waved a blue hand at her dismissively. "Place is like a fuckin' intergalactic greeting card."

Buffy smothered a grin at his word choice – after a few drinks and a game of sabacc she'd shared some curse words from home with him, which he'd adopted immediately.

"But when it's calmed down, you'll take me to see him?"

"Of course. But it'll cost ya."

Buffy rolled her eyes. She expected nothing less.

"Been busy around here? You look extra rough today."

Battling back the immediate instinct to smooth her hair and be insulted, she saw the comment as it was - an uncharacteristic show of concern. She must really look bad if Bal felt the need to say something. And truth was, she was tired.

After her quality time with Slavis Greely, which she tried not to examine too closely, she'd been left with info on the Black Sun Syndicate but nothing on Mr. Red and Black. She'd spent the majority of her time here trying to track down someone with some clout that could tell her what she wanted to know, but so far she'd only come across low level thugs that screamed like little girls after you applied some pressure (pressure to sensitive areas, admittedly) but didn't have anything useful to say.

"No rest for the wicked, right?" She answered, giving a bright smile she knew looked as fake as it felt.

Black eyes rolled but he didn't pry any further. Probably was kicking himself for asking in the first place.

"So, you got any new names for me?"

He gave her a disgruntled look and glanced around furtively.

"Keep your voice down," he growled out. "I don't want the Black Sun up my ass because they found I'm handing out the names of their members."

Buffy curled her lip back. "Ew at the visual. And don't be scared Bal, the big bad Slayer's got your back."

"Not really the confidence booster you mean it as, kid."

An image of all those graves she'd dug burst across her vision and she barely held in a flinch. She wasn't sure if he meant it the way it sounded, but…

"Fair enough," she shrugged. "But they won't hear your name from me. And we can meet further away from here in the future if you want. I'm kind of getting a reputation, so might be better for you not to be seen with me…"

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then just shrugged and slid a folded scrap of paper across the table to her.

She pocketed it smoothly and in turn slid over her own piece of paper.

"As agreed," she said. "All the illegal goodies those idiots babbled about while we had our friendly little chats."

"You're one scary human," he said, but his grin was feral and impressed as he glanced at the paper.

"You have fun with that. And don't get into too much trouble," she said, giving him a stern finger pointing as she stood.

"Less than you get in to, I'm sure," he answered to her retreating back.

After she was gone he stared at the door to the diner for a long moment before giving a headshake and lifting a hand.

"A piece of Wasaka berry pie over here, will ya!"

Moments later the owner brought out the plate himself, surprising Bal. He reached for it but Dex held it just out of reach.

"Who was the girly?"

Lowering his hand, Bal gave Dex a blank look. "Girly? I didn't see no girly. Did you?"

After a moment of staring, Dex sat the plate down with a clatter in front of him.

"Nah, guess not."


"Crimson Corridor?" Obi Wan echoed.

"That's the word," Dex said, not looking up from his stocking order.

Well, after finding her in the Antipodes he guessed he shouldn't be surprised. He felt a reluctant grin forming. Buffy wouldn't go somewhere quiet and peaceful – nothing to do there.

"She was here, that close, this entire time," Obi wan said, shaking his head in amazement.

"Seems that way," Dex said, pausing and setting down his pad to look at Obi Wan full on. "I don't tell you your business, you do what you have to, but…"

Not one usually to mince words, Obi Wan's brow furrowed in concern at Dex's pause and the unease he felt coming from him.

"That girl's not going to last long asking the questions she asking and doin' the things she's doin'."

"And what exactly has she been doing?"


The knock at her door was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. This wasn't the little commune in Feral City where Alec would come to show her his newest picture or Bria would bring her some lunch, where any of the other residents was a welcome visitor.

This was Crimson Alley and there weren't any friendly faces.

But maybe that was for the best – look what happened to the people she got too close to.

With a low growl she finished tying off the bandage around her split knuckles that hadn't healed yet and readied herself for more violence as she pressed the open button.

But instead of a potential candidate for asskickery, she came face to face with Mace. Or Juan. Or Opie. Or whatever the hell his name was.

He was still cute…

She shook away that thought and popped the little bubble of excitement that rose in her at the sight of him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've been looking for you," he said before halting adding, "I saw what happened in the Industrial Zone… I wasn't sure you'd survived."

"Well, I did," she said, crossing her arms and trying not to think of that place. "How did you find me?"

"It's not exactly a secret," he said, stepping inside without an invitation and letting the door whoosh closed behind him. "You keep this up and you won't have to go looking for the Black Sun because they'll come right to your door."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she said with a bitter laugh. "I've been looking for them for weeks and you think I'll be upset if they come knocking? Saves me the footwork."

"Buffy, you have no idea who you're dealing with. What they-"

"I know exactly who I'm dealing with," she hissed, the anger that was so close to the surface all the time now bubbling up. "I got a nice up close and personal introduction to what they're capable of. I didn't run off like a dog with my tail between my legs, remember? I had front row seats."

If she hadn't already regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth, she would have when she saw the look on his face.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I should have stayed. I wish I'd stayed. Please know that. And I did try to get the Jedi Council to-"

Buffy shook her head and turned away from him, going to the small counter to put away the bandages and disinfectant.

"Give me a break. You actually believe in that fairytale?"

"I don't understand..."

"They're like a freaking myth," she said, busying her hands with neatly stacking squares of gauze back in the kit she'd bought off Bal during one of their first meetings. "The big bad Jedi with their mind powers saving the universe? Give me a break, like that crap is real."

At his silence, she finally turned to look at him and felt another stab of guilt at the way he was looking at her. It was like she just told him the truth about Santa. Jeez, she just kept on kicking him…

"You don't believe they're real?" He asked.

"Well, no," she shrugged. "If they are, what the heck are they doing? I lived in a place crawling with criminals and never saw any intergalactic heroes showing up to save the day. If they are real, and they just left all those people there, turned their back on-"

She stopped herself and took a deep breath, collapsing in a chair and rubbing her forehead roughly while not looking at him.

Who was she kidding?

"I'm making excuses," she said quietly. "I'm supposed to be the intergalactic hero saving the day. They were mine to protect. And I failed. I can't blame some hokey imaginary space cops, or whatever they are. It's no one's fault but mine…"

She jumped in surprise when she felt warm hands rest on her knees and stopped rubbing her tired eyes to see Juan squatting in front of her.

How had he moved without her knowing?

"It's not your fault," he said, staring at her with such earnestness that she actually wanted to believe him.

"Thank you for saying that," she said, some of the anger fizzling out into guilt. "But it really is."

"The Black Sun decided Greely's operation needed to be shut down, that has nothing to with you."

"He came there looking for me," she admitted, dropping her eyes from his while her hands clenched in the material of her pants.

"Who?"

"There was this Black Sun guy I got in a fight with. We- I- he was looking for me! He must've seen me earlier with Alec and went there to find me. So see, it actually is my fault."

She stood up suddenly, forcing his hands of her knees where they'd felt too warm and comforting.

"Buffy-"

"You should go," she said, turning away so she wouldn't have to see that kicked puppy look.

It was better this way. If no one got close to her, she couldn't get them killed. She wasn't going to stop looking for Mr. Red and Black and she didn't want to drag Juan into it.

She wasn't sure if it was her or the beep from the communicator at his belt, but Juan sighed and slammed his hand against the button that opened the door with a little more force than necessary. When it shut with a whisper of air, her shoulders dropped, the energy draining out of her.

She felt like she was back at square one, when she'd first landed in this dimension. No, it was worse than square one. Square negative eighteen would be more accurate. At least she'd landed in the Industrial Zone with the knowledge she'd just saved everyone she cared about. Now she'd arrived in Crimson Corridor after the exact opposite hanging over her head.

A hand landing on her shoulder had her acting on instinct and spinning with the intention of breaking some bones. Or pincers. Or horns. Or whatever the skeevy intruder had.

Instead of her fist meeting flesh and bone (or slime and mandibles), her wrist was caught in a light grip and her punch deflected to the side of Juan's face while he stepped in close.

"Your reflexes are truly amazing," he said, warm breath ghosting over her face.

"I thought you'd left…"

"I do have to go. But I'll be back," he said.

He was so close, it was distracting. She was supposed to be arguing, telling him to stay gone, but the words wouldn't come out. The hand not holding her wrist next to his face reached up to rest on the side of her head, his thumb brushing the hair away from her face.

"There wouldn't have been any survivors had you been there or not – the Black Sun wouldn't have allowed it. You saved many people and those that didn't make it out… Their lives were better for you having being a part of it."

She shook her head, but the faces of the families that had left that place because of her flashed through her mind, mingling with those that she'd lost and easing the pain just a little.

The communicator beeped again, and this time she could swear it sounded irritated. Or maybe that was just her. He let go of her wrist and dropped his hand from her face, turning for the door and taking his warmth with him - like when the sun disappears behind a cloud. He turned to look at her from outside before the door closed again.

"You're not alone."

She was glad the door closed before he could see the tears gathering, but wished she'd had time to tell him thank you for saying the three words she needed to hear.