Disclaimer: I don't own, do don't you sue. Hey that rhymes, kinda.
A/N: All these pleas…Mwhahaha! Take heed that this chapter occurs when Obi-Wan is locked in his room. This is going to be one depressing chapter too. Also, I shall try something different…I think I shall write this in first person just to add to the affect. Whenever I imagine writing this segment, it takes this first person form. If doesn't work out, let me know and I'll might rewrite it, but hopefully it will. So keep in mind that this whole chapter is through Obi-Wan's eyes.
Ch. 17 Detached
I see him there, standing before me shaking my cold body. His hands slide down my arms and grip like a vice. But I don't care. Xanatos doesn't understand. He doesn't care about the Saterin knowledge. He can't help me. No one can. His anger skimmers lightly across my burn and I scream in pain. The wound reacts to the Dark Side and begins to bleed. It's hungry for more dark power, for more pain.
Was that my voice? That hoarse scream begging Xanatos to stop?
I feel Xanatos let go of my arm and I break free from him. I curl myself into a ball and begin to rock. I want to sooth my aching body, mind and soul. But everything I have ever known stabs me with every movement, every thought, and every wish.
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I stagger across the wasteland of my mind. The crunching of shards against my bare feet, puncturing through skin, is the only sound I hear. Every time I step upon a shard, pain erupts, but not from the newest stab wound. No, it's the pain of memories from a past life. A world in which happiness reigned supreme flares briefly in the dark. And, despite the circumstances, that life felt complete. Everything felt certain, felt right.
The shard beneath my foot doesn't break. I look down, confused. I had forgotten how it felt not to walk in pain. It was a strange feeling. The shard glimmered slightly and somehow the darkness around me became darker.
It was many lifetimes ago, when Nyree gave me the chip from Dathomor. She had also sold me another chip at the bookstore and I had yet to look at it. So, feeling that the sought after chip could wait a day or two, I began deciphering the chip from the bookstore. Now the average person when they somehow manage to access this chip would only see gibberish, a form of writing from a long dead language. But for a Saterin there are more than just the words. Depending on your level of access to the Saterin knowledge, based on your bloodline, one can experience the chip to the fullest.
The Saterins somehow had invented a way for a Force-user at their level to experience the knowledge first-handedly. In every chip, I learned a different aspect of Saterin culture. With the aid of Austral's memories furthering my understanding, I began to comprehend the political, economic, educational, social systems of the Saterins. I attended fake classes to learn how to use the Force in healing. I had practiced fighting skills to defend not only me but the innocent as well. Such a learning experience tired my mind greatly and I usually needed a whole day or two to recuperate.
My eyes narrow down at the shard and it shatters into even more tiny pieces. A gust of wind howls through the air, sending the sharp particles upon my face. Tiny cuts appear on my face. I cough up blood as particles enter and cut my throat. My eyes itch but I do not dare rub them, for the shards might cut my eyes and I'll become blind. Now half blind and a damaged throat, I sprint forward to escape the whirlwind.
How far I ran, I don't know. Memories flash before my blurry eyes with each step. But I ignore them. That life wasn't mine. The boy in that life is dead. The spider spun its web and caught the boy. She had eaten him and I am all that is life of that carcass, the spirit without a body. A clinging of bells reaches my ears. A sticky substance covers my entire front area. I struggle against the web. I don't want to die! Didn't the spider enjoy the body? Does she want to devour a soul whose light has died because of what was in that last chip?
My head slams into the web and I scream once more. I find myself standing in an auditorium filled with soldiers. The general is addressing his troops before we all march to our deaths. The war…
A heavy heart sags in my chest. Please. I don't want to remember what was on that chip. But whatever force is at work won't ease my punishment for all the torment I put the Jedi through. The image merges into scenes of battles, soldiers dying, nurses trying to save the injured, families in mourning, cities collapsing and hope fading fast.
I cover my eyes in vain to hide from the images, but to no avail. Dark creatures that call themselves Sith crawl upon the planet, like parasites over a rotting corpse. They take children hostages and train them in the dark ways. Jedi continue to fight against the Saterin, unaware of what was happening elsewhere on the planet. However, the war information was just the surface of the knowledge.
Everyone wants to think that there once existed the perfect civilization. Somewhere in this vast galaxy, a race of beings did not fight amongst each other and were the epiphany of all that was good. I had begun to believe in my soul that the Saterin were this perfect race, and that is why they fell to such a horrible fate. Sure they had flaws, like not interpreting their visions correctly but no one could, not even Jedi Master Yoda.
Yet, like all beliefs, they must be crushed. I saw beyond the surface and witnessed horrors that my young mind could not handle. The Saterin were as much to blame for the rise of the Sith. I didn't know that the planet was the birthplace for such an evil being. Some of the Saterin and Jedi rogues banded together and began to form their views on how to control the darker side of the Force.
I find myself back in the room, kneeling before the chip, watching the holographic images flash before my eyes. The Force is screaming at me to be carefully but excitement is running in my blood and I ignore the warning.
I find the key and open Pandora's Box.
Sith knowledge cascades into my mind. I try to slow down the flow of the Dark knowledge but I am too young. I quickly close off all bonds with the outside to prevent the flood from going beyond me.
I'm loosing touch with reality.
I sink deeper into myself, to my last place of refuge. The shield, which I built when I started to train with Xanatos to protect my essence from the Dark Side, strains under the weight. I place all my concentration on the wall, but the Dark Side is too strong. I am merely a child; my powers are beginning to take toil on my body. I feel my entire body begin to burn as I use the full extent of my Saterin powers to hold up the shield. But the Dark Side is patient and keeps its onslaught steady. I don't know how long I was there. All I know is that I lost.
Lost to the Dark Side. I became a failure to everything and everyone. I have unleashed an evil upon the galaxy.
I find myself once again upon the web. My anger at myself flickers around me like fire and with the dark energy I break free of the web. I expect my feet to land once more on sharp shards of memories but instead I feel the slippery warmth of blood. All around me are bodies of Jedi, Sith, Saterin and birds.
My hands turn into fists. The wind returns but it echoes the chirping of the bird. That stupid bird outside my window would not stop chirping. It was the first thing that I heard when the Dark Side released its hold on me, and retreated back into the chip. All that remained of my shield was a crumpled wall and a dull flame that seemed it would go out any minute. Why wouldn't that bird stop chirping? Why was it so happy? Didn't it know about the evil in life? What was there to rejoice about?
Dark blue eyes snap open and all I remember is rage filling my body. With a flicker of my wrist, the window flies open. My eyes narrow and a dark smirk mirrors the glee in my mind when the bird flies into my room, chocking. Keeping my attention on the force chock, I lock the window then head to the bathroom. I create a powerful barrier around the chamber to keep what I'm about to do in one place. With a twitch of my fingers, the water is turned on and fills the tube with water. I tilt my head to the side and without any movements except that within my mind, I put the skills I recently learned to use and manipulate the body of the bird into painful positions. The bird shrieks, but I don't care.
Why should I be the only one to suffer my people's fate? Why should I be the one who has to relive everything just so that our ways don't die? WHY?
Bones snap and the bird shrieks even louder. But no one can hear him, just like no one can hear my pleas.
I blink. Confusion is etched on my face. Blinking is a simple, automatic motion. So why do I feel like I'm waking up from a dream. A child's laughter fills the bathroom. I look to my left and there perched on the sink is a boy who looks exactly like me. The child points a finger at the dying bird. Electricity shots from his hands and hits the bird dead center. Charred flesh fills my nostrils. The boy stops and looks at me. Yellow eyes sparkle with sick happiness.
In a harsh voice that reminds me of the Sith with horns, he speaks, "Your turn."
No.
I don't want to be like this child. I don't want to give birth to this evilness that is brewing within me. The boy narrows his yellow eyes at me and frowns. He senses my rebellion. Deep down that dull flame spreads like wildfire. But the child senses the heat and stomps down upon the fire, into nothing. A void fills me and the child once again points at the bird with a huge grin on his face.
What I do next shocks me. The scene keeps repeating in my mind with no sign of stopping. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gather my strength and focus it on the bird. The child laughs and claps his hands. If only he knew. Without a second hesitation, I grip the boy in the Force and send his body slamming into the wall above the tube. He and bird shriek as I send bolts of electricity into their bodies. I don't how to stop; I can't stop. It's too much to handle. I watch as their bodies' whither in pain and the small lick of flame that had survived the second onslaught of the Dark Side dims. My arms drop to the side and exhaustion tugs at my body. I am beyond such trivial things. I stand there and stare at my handiwork.
Is this what they wanted? Is this what Austral wanted? To have the only last heir to the Saterin power completely turn to the Dark Side? Well, I won't have either side, Dark, Light, Xanatos, Saterin, Dathamor, Sith or Jedi have me. I'm tired of living.
I stand outside my body as Xanatos pulls me out the carnage that I created. I follow like a ghost as he tries to snap me out of it. Fool, why can't he just let me go? Is it because he cares for me this deeply? Or is it because I'm his investment in killing Qui-Gon? Pain erupts in my arm, but it is not physical. I glance down at my bleeding arm then back up at the pair. Xanatos stares at my body, fear etched across his fine features. This is Xanatos' pain that I feel. His pain begins to spread from my arm throughout my body, joined by that of Kaede, Fin and the other servants of the house. Pain erupts in my heart. Nyree enters the room. She is crying, guilt flowing from her in waves.
I was too young to handle the information. I was not ready. Nyree realizes this as she takes in my rocking form. Her guilt increases, along with Xanatos'. I narrow my eyes at the man I once considered to be a brother in a different life. Why does he feel guilty? This man is such an enigma, despite the years together.
Curiosity tugs me back into my body. Maybe I'll stay awhile and try to find out why Xanatos feels guilty. As I settle back into the confines of flesh and blood, my mind grows numb and sleep slows down my rocking body. I collapse onto the floor, taking in the soft, loving forgotten touch of a human being.
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A/N: Dang, I can't believe I wrote this chapter. I just let my fingers type and as I read it, I felt so bad for Obi-Wan. Here I am the author, self-questioning myself. I hope it wasn't too confusing all of a sudden switching to first person and starting out in the present, going to the past and then back to the present.