Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made. The cover art image belongs to peanutbutterroastedchestnuts. tumblr .com (remove the spaces)
Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes
Author's Note: I finally updated on time! Go me! So this is a longer chapter, but kind of exciting, and there's lots of action. It's a continuation of chapter 11, so make sure you read that first. Enjoy!
Chapter 12
Mid Rim, Mytaranor Sector, Kashyyyk System, 39 BBY
"We need to get somewhere safe for the night," I answer, starting to head off into the forests. "And I need to get my wrists healed if we're going to be fending off those beasts. Obi-Wan says you can do some Force healing?"
Qui-Gon nods as he walk next to me. Obi-Wan lags a little behind like a third wheel. I don't feel sorry. He had tried to sass the sass master, and that's not cool. My sympathy levels for him have gone down.
"The Trandoshans know this place like their backyard. I mean, it pretty much is their backyard. Any caves or hidden places we find they most likely know about. Our best bet is to stay hidden in the trees. They're big and bulky, and not good at climbing trees at all." We walk carefully down a slippery and steep slope, heading the opposite direction of the Trandoshans. "Their noses are great for smelling, so we'll have to make a fake trail. I think two of us should find a tree with good cover to hide in while the other one continues the trail on before doubling back."
"That's a good idea," Qui-Gon agrees. "Be on the lookout for the right tree."
About a half and hour later we're staring up at a tree with thick branches and heavy leaves. You can't see up to the top from the ground, which is the limit of the Trandoshans' sight. "To get up high enough to climb we're going to have to Force-jump," I observe, tilting my head up to get a good look.
"I'll go on to create the fake trail," Qui-Gon volunteers. "I have some experience."
"We'll need to give you our robes so our scents don't stop here," I add, carefully and painfully sliding off my black one. Obi-Wan follows suit, and we hand the garments to the Jedi Master. "Come back by leaping from tree to tree if you can so it will be harder for them to track you. When you come back you can work on my broken wrists." They are feeling a little better, but it's only been a couple of days since they broke, and even my advanced healing isn't that quick. Most people take six to eight weeks to heal, but mine usually only takes four. However, if you're a Sith, those four weeks feel like an eternity because when one or more parts of your body is not in combat shape you are vulnerable. And in this case, with both wrists useless, there's very little I can do.
And there's nothing I hate more than feeling vulnerable.
Qui-Gon heads off in a completely different direction and Obi-Wan and I stare up at the first branch, which is fifteen feet above us. "I can jump, but I can't keep my balance," I admit, hating my weakness. "You'll have to go up first and make sure I don't fall off."
He nods, serious now that our predicament has sunk in. We're being hunted by some of the most infamous hunters in the galaxy. Trandoshans train all their lives hunting all sorts of different prey, and we haven't ever been trained for evading them. Survival skills 101 takes a big twist when it comes to this. I have faith in us, however; I wouldn't have forced the Jedi to join me in something I considered the equivalent of suicide.
Obi-Wan jumps, his brown boots landing softly on the branch. It holds - so maybe another, slightly small reason for wanting him to go first was so if the branch wasn't strong enough he would be the one to fall, not me - and I take in a deep breath, reading to propel myself in the air. Without the momentum from my arms this will be more difficult than usual, but I think I can do it. No, I know I can do it.
Taking a few steps back, I get a running start before pushing off the ground hard. I soar through the air for what feels like forever before aiming myself towards the branch and starting to fall. My combat boots hit the bark and I stumble forward, Obi-Wan reaching out to steady me before I pitch over the side. Once I get my balance he lets go and steps back, and we both look up to the next branch. It isn't so far up.
"It had to be my arms," I grumble, seeing the climb. "He could have killed me and it would have been kinder, but no, he had to break my wrists."
"You need more help?" Obi-Wan asks sincerely. It's a nice gesture, but since he asked, no. I'm a strong independent Sith woman who needs no help from a young Jedi Padawan.
But what if I'm also a young girl with broken wrists who needs help from her friend? Maybe this isn't about being tough and always trying to prove my self-worth and my power. Maybe this is about being wise and accepting help when I need it.
I don't need help, not from anyone, a different part of my mind argues. When I was growing up I never needed help from my parents. I never needed anyone's help, in fact. Except for Darth Sidious. Dying alone in a dark alley under the shadows of skyscrapers, I had needed his help. And look where it's brought me? Where I wanted to be, yes, but at what cost? People don't give favors for free. They always expect something in return. I had been too young and naive to see the high price.
Maybe I want help, though. Maybe for once I don't want to be strong and powerful. I just want to let others take control and just give me instructions. That way there's not as many responsibilities on me, and that means less burdens. God knows I have many to carry already. It's a wonder my shoulders haven't caved in from the pressure yet.
"Is everything alright?" Obi-Wan asks suspiciously, his voice breaking me from my thoughts. "You look like you're having an argument...with yourself."
"I'm fine," I snap, more harshly than I intended to. "You can go first."
The look on his face is passive and unmoving, but in his eyes I see victory, as though it's such an accomplishment that he managed to get me to subtly admit I need his help to make sure I don't fall. That just makes me grumpier, of course.
"Only because if the branch is weak you'll fall and I'll know not to go up any higher," I add. "And your eyes betray your emotions. That's not the Jedi way. You should really work on that." Cruel, I know. But hey, it's me. What else did you expect? Kind hugs and warm feelings?
When I look back up at him again I'm expecting to see hurt or even a little bit of anger but instead his expression is completely placid and unreadable. I realize he had just been trying to be friendly, and I feel a little bad, but I can't bring myself to apologize. Instead I say, "I'm actually going to go first."
"What if you fall?" Even his voice has no worry or concern. It's completely emotionless, and so unlike him that it kind of scares me.
"Then I fall, and you and your Jedi friends have one less Sith to worry about," I reply, inhaling deeply before jumping. I land close to the tree trunk so I can use my side and hips to keep myself from falling off.
There's a whoosh and Obi-Wan lands next to me, balanced and poised. We continue up the tree one branch at a time until we get far enough up that we're invisible from the ground. Without my thick black robes the tree bark rubs roughly against my skin, but I still try to find a somewhat comfortable position. Obi-Wan sits a few feet away, silent and passive.
"I'm sorry." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I shouldn't have said that. You're a good Jedi."
He blinks, his eyes flickering to me. "Did you just apologize?"
"Of course not," I scoff, shaking my head. "I don't apologize. You're hearing things."
He shrugs and turns back to playing with the handle of his lightsaber, but the tension that had existed before has melted away.
Qui-Gon returns a little while later, handing us our heavy robes. Mine just lay in my lap as I wait for the Jedi Master to do some healing. My inability to do anything is getting ridiculous.
"This might hurt a little," Qui-Gon warns as he takes my wrists. The leather wraps are still on my arm, keeping my bones set straight. "And it's not going to be fully healed, so you're still going to have to be careful."
He closes his eyes as he works, and I feel my bones and muscles and skin shifting. It itches more than it hurts, but I don't move or flinch. Qui-Gon lets my hands go, and I move them, twisting them a little. There's still some pain, but at least I can move it.
"An injury like that...you realize it may never heal completely, right?" Obi-Wan's voice carries softly from the other side of the branch. My heart drops into a deep pit as I realize he's correct. Instead of responding, I ignore him and slip on my heavy robe, thankful for the basic use of my hands again.
"We should set up a watch," I say aloud. "One of us is to be awake at all times. I'll take the first watch." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan nod as they settle in to catch a little bit of sleep. I rest against the tree trunk, keeping my ears pricked and my mind attuned to the Force.
Nothing happens for a few hours, and eventually I feel my eyes start to droop. I crawl across the branch and tap on Obi-Wan's shoulder until he wakes up. "Your watch," I inform him, and then I return to my position to get some sleep of my own.
Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 49 BBY
I can't take this humiliation anymore. I can feel death's fingers brushing against me, straining against his chain to take me away. It's not yet time, though. Not quite. The chain is weak, though, and it's only getting weaker.
My anger is bubbling, almost up to the brim. I've never let it out before, but that fruit is sitting there right in front of me, tempting me. Hate comes with it, too; who is that Sidious guy to do this to me? To put me in this position? I'm too scared of his threat to stand up and walk to the table, but I'm sure I'm too weak, too. All I have are my negative feelings swimming around my mind, consuming me, tainting what good is left. I'm a creature of hate and suffering now.
Through the windows I can see starships buzzing around and I can hear the conversations of dozens of people from different species, all of them oblivious to the suffering going on right here in this little house. How can they be so blind? Why don't they care enough to help me? Why are people so cruel and heartless? In my isolation, I begin to look at them darkly, too, and from the corners of my mind they seem to be ugly, horrid creatures who enjoy my pain.
My hate finally brims over, and I let out a frustrated scream. The furniture in the house shakes and rattles, and I feel the presence of something bigger than myself in my mind. I grab onto it, turning it over in my mind and exploring it. Upon discovering it, I search through it, learning and experiencing. A wicked smile grows on my face as I figure out how to use it. Fueled by my darkness and controlled by my mind, I make a weapon and a tool out of it, and it obeys my will.
Channeling all my rage and hate into one big ball of emotion, I let it out, demanding the presence to get me that food on the table. Slowly but growing more rapidly, the fruits and vegetables and bread convulse and then slide forward, flying towards me and landing right in front of me. I grab at it desperately, shoving it into my mouth as if I'd never eaten before in my life.
Eating such rich food so fast after not eating for weeks is not a good thing, but of course I'm not thinking about it when I get that food.
Suffice to say, for the first day I'm sick to my stomach, heaving up everything I'd just eaten. After that I eat more slowly and in moderation, keeping it down much better. I'm still too scared to move from my spot, but I really have to go to the bathroom. Like, really bad.
The bathroom isn't even that far. It's just across the room. How would Darth Sidious even know if I moved? There's no way…
Taking a deep breath and gathering my courage, I stand up, sprint to the bathroom, and go. I sprint back to the spot, but then I realize how bad everything is. There's food remnants and vomit everywhere, and I smell bad. I should really clean up before the owner comes back. Sidious hadn't noticed me moving to the bathroom…
More confidently than before, I leave the spot again, this time going to the little kitchen to get some cleaning cloths. I wet them and clean up the area, and then I clean up myself in the shower. There are some black baggy pants and a girly dark grey shirt in my size in one of the bathroom cabinets, and I change into them, feeling clean and refreshed.
Then I catch sight of the fogged up mirror. Approaching it cautiously, I slowly wipe my hand across the murky surface, clearing it up. I have to look twice before I realize it's really me.
I look so different. With the dirt and the grime gone, my pale skin shines out, enhancing my orange eyes. My hair is not ragged and greasy anymore; instead it's clean and smooth and much longer than I'd thought. It's also lighter than before. My cheekbones still stick out from my skinny face, but I don't look as starved as before. The dark bags under my eyes aren't as pronounced anymore. A scowl seems embedded in my features, and it seems as though a shadow has passed permanently over. There is beauty in front of me, but it's a cold beauty, like ice that is gorgeous to look at by will slip you up if you get too close. That's who I've become now.
Something still seems missing, but I can't place it…my eyes keep drifting back up above my nose…
My eyes. They weren't orange before. They were grey, like a storm. Now they're the color of fire and flames, the color of anger and hate. It is contradictory to the iciness that is my skin and my expression, but the two together make for a dark combination. I know if I had seen this face walking around the streets a couple of weeks ago I would have run. Now I'm the one bearing such a look, and all I can think about is how it's a reflection of who I am inside.
What have I become?
Mid Rim, Mytaranor Sector, Kashyyyk System, 39 BBY
Daylight rises without incident. We could try and hide up in the trees all day, but I don't think it's a good idea. We've already been here for too long. The Jedi share my opinion, and we jump down the tree branches, hitting the ground silently. Pulling our hoods up, we quietly make our way through the forests, all of us staying carefully attuned to the Force to be able to sense the Trandoshan hunters.
Mid-day comes around and there's been no sight or sound of them. We jump up a tall tree to scan for as far as we can, and about a mile away we catch sight of the moving group. "Let's go to the North since we see them approaching from the South," Obi-Wan suggests.
"Nope," I state, pointing to the North. "There's a group of them approaching from there, too. And from the West and East. They've cornered us."
"We'll have to go through the trees, staying above their heads," Qui-Gon says. "There are plenty of vines to use. How are your wrists holding up?"
"Fine." And just like that, it's settled. "We'll have to move quickly because they will throw their spears at us. They have strong arms and a long range."
Keeping low to the tree branches, we each find a sturdy vine and grip it tightly. We wait patiently until the Trandoshan hunters are all gathered within ten feet of the tree we're in. Once they've all started pointing and looking up for us, I stand up, regrip the vine, and push off with all my strength. I soar through the air to the next tree, where I let go and gently land in a crouched position on a branch before getting back up, sprinting to the end, and finding another vine to swing with. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are not far behind, if the spear shafts flying around and the other assorted long-range weapons are any indication.
They can't outrun us on the ground. I switch directions randomly, the two Jedi following no matter what. It feels exhilarating to be flying from tree to tree, nothing but my newly healed wrists and my strong arms keeping me from plummeting to the ground. I feel powerful, too, as I confuse the expert hunters below. My heart races in the thrill of the hunt and my breath catches in exhaustion.
We keep on going for what seems like forever. The Trandoshans are always just one step behind, which is one step too close. My wrists, as Qui-Gon had pointed out, are not fully healed, and I'm beginning to think Obi-Wan had been correct in saying they might never fully heal. They'll always be a little weaker than before.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are still going strong, but my arms are shaking and my the bones in my wrist feel like they're grinding together. We still haven't completely lost the hunters, but I can't do this anymore. The pain has returned in almost full-strength, and black dots show up in my vision when my weight is on my wrists. Passing out while swinging on the vines will only cause death.
I can't keep going, but I can't let Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan be killed for my mistake. They're the closest thing to friends that I have, and I don't want to be known as an disloyal person who made up a wild plan to get what she wants while dragging her friends into it and then letting them die because she's weak. No, that's not going to happen. I told the two Jedi I would get them out of this alive and I'm going to keep to that.
Stopping on a branch, I wait for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to catch up. They both give me confused looks as they near me. "What is it?" Qui-Gon questions.
"We can't do this forever. You guys keep swinging, but I'm going down to hold them off." My voice is level and calm, despite the abyss in my stomach. I'd never thought I'd die like this, at least not since I'd discovered the Force.
"You're going to sacrifice yourself for our safety?" Obi-Wan asks, surprised.
"It's only sacrifice if I die," I reply confidently, my chin raising despite my inner fears. "And I'm obviously not going to. They're just large, intelligent lizards. It'll be an easy fight. We'll meet up at the starships at sunset." I jump down a branch before adding, "Just make sure you keep yourselves alive until then."
With that I quickly head down the rest of the tree, landing softly on my heels at the trunk. The Trandoshans are already swarming the area, creating a circle around me. I keep my back to the tree trunk, knowing it's one less direction they can attack me from.
"You're dead," one of them hisses, and the others laugh. Throwing off my black robes, I reach into my belt and pull out my lightsaber.
"I don't think so," I answer, turning both blades on. I fear death, yes, but when I die I'm going to go out in a fight. That weak person I once was is gone, and now I'm just raw power and strength. Giving up or surrendering is not in my nature but fighting is, and I'm going to fight them until death, whether it's my death or theirs.
A half dozen spears are thrust into my direction, but with one swift swing of my lightsaber the razor edges are burned off and they thud uselessly into the ground. The other weapons are presented then, and every single one of the Trandoshans are eager to kill me and claim bragging rights. All of them have forgotten the other two prey, the ones that are now safely far away.
My lightsaber makes quick work of the Trandoshans in my reach. The others, seeing their dead friends and realizing that hey, this person is actually pretty serious about not dying, step back and use distance weapons. A few of them have blasters, probably scavenged from their past victims, but it's not hard to deflect the blasts.
We're stuck in an awkward stalemate. They can't kill me, but I can't get out of my corner without killing all of them, which I'm not sure I can manage. My wrists are tingling and sore, even with the leather braces laced up tight to keep them from overextending themselves. My arms are shaking from the stress of all the vine-swinging and then the fighting, and my knees are about to give out. For the first time in a long time I don't know what to do.
The sun is getting lower in the sky, signalling that the twenty-four hours is almost up. I have maybe two hours to survive before besting Cradossk and his cronies, and I can't spend them here, facing off a dozen angry Trandoshans.
Running isn't really my style, but in this case I'll make an exception. I rush forward before using the momentum to jump high and flip over their heads. The moment my feet hit the ground again I'm sprinting, summoning my black cloak to me and tucking my lightsaber handle into my belt. The Trandoshans follow, and I realize how terrible of an idea this is. Oh well. Running for my life through a forest while being chased by a dozen game hunters is preferable to having an awkward stand-off with them. At least now my blood is pumping and my pent-up energy is being used. Now I'm doing something.
I can't head back to the starships because I told Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to meet me there. Instead I head a different direction, leaping over fallen tree trunks and jumping large springs. I only pause when I reach a wide river too far to vault over, even with the Force aiding me.
The hunters aren't far behind, though, so I make a quick decision. Shoving the Jedi breathing device into my mouth I dive gracefully as far out into the river as I can. It's much deeper than it looks, and I use my arms to pull myself to the bottom. There's some large boulders and coral structures sitting on the sand, and I hide within them. Although I can breathe just fine the water is cold, and I feel my body temperature lowering. I can't stay here forever, but I can't come up until the Trandoshans leave.
After shivering in my hiding place for about ten minutes I continue on, staying near the bottom of the river but still moving forward. There's no way the hunters can see me from the surface. I swim as far as I can before my body is convulsing with chills and then I head towards the surface, popping up some distance away from where I first submerged. There are no hunters around, and I can hear the birds chirping, a good sign. Wading out of the river, I wring out my robe and my clothes as best as I can before moving on. The climate here isn't warm enough at this time of the year to keep me from freezing, and I hold my arms, tucking my body in as close as I can to conserve heat while still hiking. I must look like a mess by now, my hair dirty from the murky water and wet, my clothes hastily wrung out and still dripping.
Great. Not only am I being hunted but I get to look like a swamp monster, too. Don't the females in action stories get to have perfect hair and fancy clothes? You never hear a story about a girl who has frizzy hair with twigs in it or smells like she just, I don't know, was stuck somewhere without showers for a long time? It's not fair.
The sun is about to begin setting, so I trudge back to where I think the starships landed. Too bad the Force doesn't have built in maps or anything. That would be helpful right about now. But no, I get to wander around a forest moon with hunters who want to kill me. I guess this is what your social life looks like when you're a Sith, though. With only a faint notion of where I'm going and the Force not really helping much, I continue my trek.
Finally, as the horizon above is turning to the colors of fire, I reach the starships. There's no one there. No Jedi, and no Trandoshans. What's going on? It's sunset after the twenty-four hours. The deal is up. We won.
Then I hear them. From behind the treeline come Cradossk and his buddies, and they have Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon captured. Great. Those Jedi had one job. I almost sacrificed myself for their safety, and they managed to screw it up. Way to go, Jedi. Way to go.
"You lose," Cradossk hisses in satisfaction. "We caught them."
"Nope," I say, popping the "p". "You caught them. Not me."
The Trandoshans look confused, as if they had never considered that only part of our group may have been caught. "So...we won? But you also won?"
"Seems like it," I reply. "And there's only one way to settle this."
"We kill the Jedi and release you!" Cradossk exclaims, proud of himself for figuring it out. Yeah, well, that's not how things are going down. I'm not letting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon die because I wanted an old Sith artifact.
"Of course not. We have a duel. Me and you. Whoever wins claims victory overall." Shrugging my black robe off, I pull out my lightsaber and turn on the two red blades, pushing out my elbow and bending my knees slightly in preparation. "Or are you too scared to fight a girl?"
That last sentence did him in. With a shout of rage and narrowed eyes, Cradossk reaches into his own robes and pulls out...a lightsaber? How did he get one?
Sensing my surprise, he answers, "We captured a young Padawan once. He was formidable, but we eventually caught him. And he gave us this. Well, we actually took it off his dead body, but it's all the same." The lightsaber opens up green, and over Cradossk's shoulder I see Qui-Gon's eyes looking downward sadly, and Obi-Wan's face tighten with anger. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that a sore spot?"
"I'm a Sith," I snap. "I don't have sore spots. Now stop talking and fight me."
He lunges forward first - seriously, what is it with guys always being so aggressive? The defensive side always has the advantage - and I block his strike easily. He twirls the blade expertly before aiming for my side. Tilting one side up I effortlessly push his blade back while swinging up with the other side. He jumps back and raises his blade again.
I'll give him this: he's not completely terrible. What he is is inexperienced and untrained. Which is to be expected, since he stole the weapon off of a little boy's cold, dead body. Who does he think he is? Killing children for sport is just ridiculous and cruel. Even the Sith don't sink that low. Well, they might kill young kids, but it isn't for sport. That's sick and twisted.
He rains blow upon blow at me and I deflect them with one hand curled around the handle of my lightsaber, the other hand spread out so I can examine my nails. Man, they're getting kind of dirty. I'm going to take a long and hot shower as soon as I get off of this planet.
"Why won't you fight me?" Cradossk wails. "You insult me by standing there without a care. I thought this would be a fight! You're a disappointment."
My head raises instantly, one of my eyebrows shooting up. "A disappointment, you say?" He so did not just say that. I'm not a disappointment. You want a disappointment? Go find my parents. Not me. "I'm sorry. I can't hear you over the sound of my reputation as one of the most feared vigilantes in the galaxy."
A roar of anger escapes him. He doesn't act upon it, though. Instead he takes in a deep breath and continues talking in a calmer voice. "Your reputation, huh? People say you're scary because you can use the Force and you have a red lightsaber, not because of anything you've done. The only reputation that follows you is the ancient stories of the Sith, and after meeting you I'm starting to believe that either those stories are lies or you're the most pathetic excuse for a Sith I've ever met. I mean, just look at you! You're soaking wet, you have twigs in your hair, there's dirt on your face, and you can't even fight. Not to mention you hide behind Jedi to protect yourself. You're just a weak and cowardly little girl who got herself into more trouble than she can handle."
He called me weak. He called me a coward. He called me pathetic. And he doubts my reputation as a Sith? I should be angry, raging, in fact, but I've worked hard on mastering my emotions. It pays off in times like this. "You're absolutely right. I am a weak, pathetic, and cowardly excuse for a Sith. And I can't even use the Force. It's all a lie that other people buy. This lightsaber? I just found it in a junkyard and it happened to be working still. It's just an ancient relic." I drop my weapon on the ground and raise my hands up to my shoulders, palms out. "I surrender."
Cradossk grins. "See? She's an imposter! She lied to us from the very beginning!" He's really not that bright, I realize.
And as for what he said, yeah, no. No one calls me those ugly, horrible names without punishment. Death would be too kind for him. Instead I shoot my hand out straight when he turns his back, wiggling my fingers and straining my mind to summon Force lightning. The purple strikes hit him in the back and he goes down, writhing painfully on the ground while all his friends watch. His screams rise up, blocking all else.
Still keeping the lightning steady, I lift up my eyes and scan the remaining Trandoshan hunters. "You still think I'm weak? I'm an imposter? Please, speak up. I'm very curious." None of them respond, and they continue to avoid eye contact, fear evident in their expression. My head is starting to ache from the pressure of sustaining the Force lightening, and I feel something dripping from my nose. Blood, most likely. This isn't one of my strong suits, but I push on, my eyes narrowing and my forehead creasing deeper.
"That's enough," Qui-Gon says, catching my eye. "You've proven your point. Let him go."
I return my gaze to the native hunter who is in complete agony right now. A small smile curves up on my face. "Why? He hasn't apologized yet. He hasn't admitted his fault."
"I'm sorry!" Cradossk screams. "I was wrong!"
"Beg," I demand, making the lightning more intense. He screams anew before whimpering, "Please just let me go! You're powerful and scary and I was wrong! Just please let me go!"
"Minerva!" Qui-Gon shouts. "Enough!"
My head snaps up. "Oh, and you're my master now? I don't think so. You knew that working with me meant that I would do things my way. This is my way. No one insults me like that and gets off easy. I'm teaching him a lesson."
Somewhere deep down, though, I know he's right. I need to stop. But the revenge feels so good, his cries of pain and misery filling up my cold heart with happiness. I'm not weak. I'm not a coward. And I'm not a disappointment. I am a powerful Sith who won't take any crap from anyone.
There's a blur of movement and suddenly a blue lightsaber blade comes out, blocking the lightning from fingers. It's Obi-Wan, and he's protecting Cradossk. But why? Why would he do that? Didn't he hear the awful things the Trandoshan had said? Isn't Obi-Wan my friend?
I stop the lightning, stumbling away as the pressure suddenly disapears, and knowing that the Jedi Padawan is not strong enough to hold it in without hurting himself. Scowling at him and his master, I collect my cloak, my dropped lightsaber, and the green lightsaber Cradossk had taken. Without looking back I stomp up to my starship and open the door. Before I can get in my astromech droid beeps at me.
"You want to go with Qui-Gon? Fine. Abandon me like every single one of my other friends," I shout at him, and he pulls back a bit, beeping a small apology. Whatever. I'm done. People mess up everything, and you can't rely on anyone. That's the lesson life has taught me.
Sitting in the cockpit by myself, knowing that even my droid had abandoned me - wow, this has got to be a record low - I feel my eyes sting in an unfamiliar sensation. No. I am not crying. I don't cry because I don't feel. I'm a Sith. And more than that, I'm Minerva, the ruthless and cruel Sith who cuts down anyone in her way and doesn't hesitate to torture anyone who insults her. Angrily I smear the back of my hand across my nose, wiping away the thin trail of blood.
I hear the door whoosh open and a pair of boots quietly treading towards the cockpit. The person stands in the open doorway. "Minerva?"
I look up to see Obi-Wan standing there. Just who I wanted to see. He seems taken aback by expression, and instinctively I raise my hand up to touch my cheek. It's wet. Wonderful.
He opens his mouth to speak and I point towards the exit. "Go."
He doesn't move, though. Instead he speaks. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but I couldn't just let you torture him. It's not the Jedi way."
"Well screw your Jedi ways and get out of my ship," I answer harshly. "And take that traitorous droid with you, if he hasn't already run to go tell Qui-Gon all about how badly I mistreat him."
"Not everyone is against you," Obi-Wan says softly. The response I had dies as those words hit me. I don't have anything to say to that. My whole life everyone has always been against me, so who is he to come here and tell me differently?
"How can you say that?" I finally manage. "Everyone is against me. They always have been. You of all people should know that." The words are hard to get out, and they hurt. Why do they hurt? Because they're true, and the truth hurts so much more than any lie. And also because I never wanted to believe it before, but now, saying it out loud, I finally let myself accept it.
"And you of all people should know I'm not against you. Qui-Gon isn't, either. If we were against you we would have let you kill him. Killing and torturing - that only hurts you. It never helps."
"It doesn't hurt me because I'm already on the dark side," I say lowly. "That's what we do. We hurt people who hurt us, and we hurt people who are a threat to us, and we hurt people because that's what we do."
"Have you never considered redemption?" His words make me laugh.
"Once you've fallen to the dark side you can never go back. It consumes you, and it forever holds you captive. I'm stuck this way forever, and I know you and your band of saints would like to convert everyone to the light side, but it's too late for me. Maybe if the Jedi had found me and my siblings suffering eleven years ago I wouldn't be here now. But I guess life is full of regrets and we just have to move on."
"You should go back home," he says unexpectedly.
"What?"
"You should go back to your home planet where you grew up. It seems as though you hold it in contempt. Every time you speak of your past you mention how much you hated growing up and how much you detest that planet. I think you need to make peace with it by going back."
"I don't see how that would help me in any way," I reply skeptically.
"You associate your childhood with that planet, and with your childhood you think of the version of yourself that was weak and cowardly and a disappointment. Go back to it as your new self and prove to all those people that you're not weak. It will help." He sounds so confident, but how can he ever understand? I can't go back.
"You know how you asked what someone like me could be scared of?" I question, and he nods. "I'm scared to go back to Anthan Prime," I admit.
"Exactly why you should go," Obi-Wan says. "You can't be scared of it. You have to make peace with your past. I'll go with you."
I blink, and it's a moment before his words register. "What?"
"I'll go with you, if you want. Qui-Gon can dispose of that Sith artifact while we go to Anthan Prime." He's dead serious. I can't believe any of this.
"Why would you do this?" I really don't get it. What good does he think going to my home planet will do?
"It's important for you to go back, but I know you won't go back by yourself. And I'm your friend, and this is what friends do."
Suddenly I can't swallow past the lump in my throat. He's my friend? Yes. Okay. But the whole concept of friendship is foreign and confusing to me. He's willing to take time out of his life to help me make peace with my childhood? That's so...kind. No one has ever been kind to me like that. Everyone who has ever helped me before has had an ulterior agenda.
"Okay," I say, but it comes out as a whisper. The Jedi nods and goes to tell his master the change in plans, and I sit numbly in my pilot chair, not understanding or comprehending anything. Surely Obi-Wan has another reason for coming with me. Maybe he has unsettled business on that planet or maybe he wants to get away from his master. There's no way he's doing it out of the kindness of his heart.
He returns and I'm still sitting numbly in the chair. Instead of saying anything he sets the coordinates and sits by me in the co-pilot's chair. It's a silent take-off and a silent ride.
I'm still shocked by the first kind and selfless act I've ever experienced.