Author's Note: Here we go, guys. This is where it *really* gets interesting! I've been so excited for you guys to read this one, I can't wait to hear what you think! Just a note, this chapter ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, so if those aren't your thing, you might want to wait until next weekend. And as always, trigger warnings are in the end notes. Oh, and happy new year everybody!
Trigger Warnings: (Vague) descriptions of torture (whips, knives, cuts), more mental manipulation.
Chapter X
The next day saw the cycle repeated all over again. In the chair, IV fluid - sometimes drugs, sometimes not. Then over to the chains. Sometimes the Count was there, sometimes not. Sometimes it was more whips, sometimes it was knives. Cuts became a new part of the pain. All over her body; arms, legs, chest, stomach. Some were thin and shallow, some were long and deep. When they really wanted to cut deep, they would attach a bright red liquid to her IV that seemed to instantly clot her blood, making blood flow almost nonexistent.
And all through every session of physical torture was the continuation of the mental torture from the Sith crystal.
With her mind so divided on tortures, and her body so weak from her wounds, she had very little brainpower to fight off the words of the crystal.
No, Anakin's… Anakin's proud of… but is he? I mean, he's never said it out loud. Maybe he was just pretending these last few months. It's true he didn't want me when I arrived on Christophsis.
And Obi-wan… Obi-wan has always seemed distant. But not with Anakin. He's never been with Anakin like he is with me.
No! No, Ahsoka, don't think like that! Your Master cares for you, and Obi-wan cares for you. Right?
Ahhh, now you begin to see the truth, whispered the crystal. Really, you were stupid to think otherwise. Even if Anakin and Obi-wan wanted to give you a chance, it's not like you have anything to offer anyway. You hide it well on the outside, but on the inside, your emotions have always been very un-Jedi-like. That's why you meditate so often. To control your anger. She could almost hear the malicious smile in its voice.
"No…" she desperately tried to pull her thoughts together, not realizing she was speaking out loud. "That's not true. That's not why I meditate. I connect-" With the Force. Ohh, I wish I could meditate now, and get YOU OUT OF MY HEAD. She pictured herself burying her face in her hands.
The mysterious figure visited her another night, and then it didn't come for a while. Not that Ahsoka cared. They weren't helping her or hurting her, therefore they were a nonentity in her eyes. Not something she could rely on either way.
At one point, a particularly deep knife cut got very painful. More so than it should have. After a day of fighting off the third attack, her eyesight became blurry, and she began to feel very hot. She had always been cold in the room before.
She kept feeling the urge to giggle, and her blurry vision gave way to fantastical patterns, in all shapes and colours.
She wasn't really aware of her surroundings, but she thought she felt her arms fall and an IV going in. That's when she lost all awareness.
She awoke in a bed. Extremely confused as to why she might be in a soft bed with warm blankets, but in a bed nonetheless.
She frowned, still not opening her eyes. Urgh, what happened? She wondered, idly fingering a bandage on her side that she didn't remember being there.
Wait. Ahsoka's fingers froze on the gauze at her side. I don't remember. I don't remember anything. I don't know… how I got here. I don't know… who am I?
Her eyes flew upward, and so did she. She shot up, breathing hard, trying to take in all these new things at once. She had the vaguest impression… no, it was gone. All she knew was that it felt wrong to be in a place so clean and comfortable. She glanced around, hands gripping the bed beneath her tightly.
The room she was in was not large; perhaps ten paces long and wide. But it was very bright. Owing to the fact that the room was painted white and a large industrial light shone down, illuminating every corner. Including a mirror that stood on the opposite wall.
Ahsoka gasped at the glimpse of the being she saw in it. Gathering the long white blanket she lay under around her shoulders instead, she gingerly slid onto the floor, padding over to get a better look.
So this is who I am, she thought, startled at the person she saw in the mirror. Though she currently had no frame of reference, she had the idea that the average person didn't look like this.
Ashy white and blue montrals trailed into limp lekku, which framed her wan face. Dark circles lay under blue eyes, and a lot of thin red scars crisscrossed around her face as did more normal-seeming white markings. There were also two pieces of metal that, after she attempted pulling them off, appeared to be stuck to her face. She couldn't figure out what they might be for. Perhaps they're just decorative, she thought.
She gingerly touched one of the scars, flinching slightly as the inflamed mark protested. The white markings gave her a sense of belonging, familiarity, family. But these scars… she felt nothing but a sense of exhaustion, agony… and fear. She drew her hand back quickly.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember how she came by either set of markings.
She shook her head, frustrated, and continued her gaze downward.
Around her neck there was a metal band, silver in colour. Strange choice of jewelry, she thought, tugging on it experimentally.
It didn't budge.
Shrugging, she held up her arms, noticing the same kind of scars as on her face, but these varied more in depth. Same for my chest… and my stomach. They curled all around her, some red and angry, some more faded. Some with ugly bruising around them. And all of them gave her that same impression, memories she just couldn't recall: pain, fear, and hopelessness.
The blanket around her shoulders trembled slightly as Ahsoka fought back a shiver. Maybe she didn't want to remember.
Her eyes trailed around the large white bandage that covered part of her side. It started more on her stomach and trailed around to her back.
She let the blanket fall, turning slightly so she could follow the path of the bandage… and froze in horror. A heartbeat, then she quickly completed the turn.
Her entire back was covered in… not even scars. These were still open wounds! She had thought the marks on the front of her body were red, but they paled in comparison to these. Long, vivid gashes, singed around the openings. Most of them obviously torn open by a similar object to what made the first ones.
Her back was a riot of reds, blacks, grays. Even a little pink and yellow. Well. That explained the uncomfortable twinges she'd felt while trying to move around.
And her front body had given her feelings of fear, pain, help- and hopelessness… the feelings were magnified ten-fold looking at her back.
What in the twin moons happened to me?
Ahsoka's head snapped to the door as her lekku's inherent echolocation sensed footsteps quickly approaching. She hurriedly pulled the blanket around herself again, flinching slightly as the fibres tugged at her back. She felt far too exposed in her braband and very torn leggings.
An odd sense of fear propelled her back to the bed. By the time the door slid open, she was standing next to it, instinctually crouched slightly. Ready to spring into action.
Action? What kind of action am I preparing for? Nonetheless, something told her to stay on guard.
In walked an old man in a cape. Well. She hadn't been expecting that. As the door whooshed shut, she caught sight of two droids standing guard outside the door, and she wondered at it. Am I the danger? Or is he?
She turned her eyes to the old man. Short, close-cropped gray hair. Deep lines under stern brown eyes. Broad shoulders, good posture. He carried himself like he knew how to protect his own interests. Someone who knew how to fight. He filled the doorway, large and imposing. Or at least that was clearly the angle he was aiming for. Ahsoka remained unfazed.
"Ahsoka. I'm so glad to see you finally awake." He had a deep voice, with an accent that made his words sound slightly pompous. His words were careful and measured, and his tone was just the right side of pleasant that gave her the impression that this man knew how to use his words to their best effect. And how to get exactly what he wanted.
And apparently, he somehow knew her name when she did not.
She fell slightly deeper into her guarded stance.
"How do you know my name?" Her tone was wary, her eyes narrowed. She really didn't know why it was that she so automatically distrusted this man. She didn't even know him. And yet…
The man's eyebrows went up in surprise. "My dear, do you not-" Now they came down in concern. "What do you remember?"
"Remember? I-" Ahsoka flinched, putting her hand to her head as she attempted to look inward and a piercing red flash went off in her mind. The headache that followed drove away any memories she might possibly have dredged up far out of reach.
"I… remember nothing." She cursed inwardly. "There's nothing."
He gave her a sad smile. "You are angry at your loss. That is perfectly normal. I would be worried if you weren't!" He sighed, his stiff-backed posture slumping just a little. "The medical droids told me this was a possibility. But I don't think even they knew to what extent your memory loss would go…" He sighed again, looking down at the ground in apparent frustration.
Ahsoka's posture slipped, her muscles protesting the length of the unnatural stance she'd taken.
His head swung up at the sound her feet made on the floor.
He took a step toward her, gesturing to the bed. "Please, sit. You must be exhausted."
In such close proximity to the man's imposing form, Ahsoka unconsciously drew herself up. "And who are you exactly to tell me what to do?"
"My dear Padawan Tano." He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I am Count Dooku, your Master. You are my apprentice."
