Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued.
Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.
Author's Notes: Enjoy.
Revenge and Regret
By Kekelina
-----
Chapter Twenty: Darkness Descended
-----
The darkness arrived, cloaked in familiarity and saturated in evil. The very matter of the Temple quaked under the Sith's powerful, confident steps.
The true battle, Yoda feared, had only just begun.
-----
He passed through the halls of the hallowed Jedi haven with a sneer on his face, bypassing petty struggles between clones and peacekeepers without so much as a blink of an eye or a flick of a wrist. Instead, he left it to the reinforcements marching behind him to help their brothers finish off the inconsequential Jedi scum.
In all honesty, he had expected far better from the Jedi. It was actually rather anticlimactic. He hadn't even encountered resistance as he entered the last remnants of the Old Republic.
Pitiful.
Yet, the Jedi had managed to dispose of Jango Fett. Well, that particular…achievement…had been the handiwork of young Anakin Skywalker, unsurprisingly. He was becoming quite a regular thief – first his Master and now his revenge on his former captor. Good thing he was going to rid him of that rather annoying habit.
It was a shame he hated him so much. He could've made a fine apprentice (if ever turned to the Dark Side). But alas, Obi-Wan Kenobi did hate Anakin Skywalker – with every cell in his thriving body, with every molecule of the putrid existence he lived, he detested the boy, and he would not rest until he was smirking at the lifeless, rotting corpse of the bane of his existence.
But would that be enough? Would merely taking the boy's life be a satisfactory payment for the lifetime of discontent and inadequacy Obi-Wan had suffered? Would that settle the ten years of looking upon Qui-Gon and Anakin's budding Master-Padawan relationship and knowing that he hadn't been good enough for Qui-Gon? That a slave boy from Tatooine who might possibly fulfill a prophecy most Jedi didn't even believe in was more important to him than the young man who had given everything he had to give to Qui-Gon over twelve long years?
For it had been Obi-Wan – not Anakin – who had almost blown himself to smithereens to gain Qui-Gon's trust; Obi-Wan – not Anakin – who had suffered through the Xanatos days; Obi-Wan who had rescued Qui-Gon… Obi-Wan who had helped him recover after Tahl's death… Obi-Wan who had sought his approval every day… Obi-Wan who had stood by his side for over twelve years…
Obi-Wan…not Anakin.
Never Anakin.
The Sith quivered in uncontrollable rage. Anakin Skywalker was going to die. And he was going to die today.
"Spread out," he ordered an ARC trooper. "If you find Skywalker or Jinn, comm me immediately, and whatever you do, don't let them out of your sight. Failure to comply will result in your immediate extermination."
"Yes, sir."
The clones spread out, breaking off into reconnaissance groups of two or three, sweeping the corridors and war-torn rooms for the two specific Jedi with death marks on their heads. Dementor himself stepped into a turbolift, banishing the nostalgia from his mind as it started its journey to a higher floor. He could ill-afford to be overcome by memories and sensations of his previous life. His time as a Jedi, as he had told Siri before her tragic death, meant nothing to him any longer.
The lift open twenty-seven stories later, on a floor Dementor knew quite well, but hadn't visited in years:
The Initiate apartments and clan rooms.
The memories came anyway.
Memories, right… Being brainwashed by their lies, becoming weak under their standard of 'no emotion, no passion, no chaos.'
He hated the Jedi.
Honor over hate.
"Shut up!"
"Talking to yourself, Sith scum? I hear that's the first sign of insanity."
Dementor whirled around to find a young, female Padawan standing behind him. While her stance spat anger and determination, her eyes, two stormy orbs awash with permafrost frigidness, seemed to have matured from anxious Padawan to weary survivor in a matter of seconds. He felt no remorse.
"I don't believe I know you…"
The Padawan clenched the two lightsaber hilts in her hands. "Serra Keto, Murderer."
Finding it far too amusing to aggravate the girl, Dementor continued his nonchalant air, speaking to her with the intonation and care of one discussing something as trivial as the weather. "Oh yes, you're Cin Drallig's Padawan; now I remember." A faux charming smile.
And Garen insisted I could never act…
Keto continued to glare at him, as if a mere Padawan could frighten an all-powerful Sith Lord. Taun We had been more threatening… "You know, for a Jedi apprentice," he taunted, "you seem to have an excessive amount of hatred in you."
"You're destroying the Jedi," she hissed.
A long, dramatic pause. "Yes."
The lightsabers in her hands ignited, two emerald beams pulsing under her command. She moved to leap –
"Serra!"
The urgent voice, catching them both off guard, caused the two almost-duelists to stumble, though the Sith recovered far faster and smoother than Serra Keto. An older Jedi rushed in, golden lightsaber blazing, and stepped protectively in front of the young girl.
Cin Drallig.
"Nice of you to join us, Master Drallig. I was about to dispose of your Padawan. Now, however, I can rid myself of two annoyances at the same time. Two mynocks with one blaster bolt."
Though Cin Drallig was a Master of lightsaber technique (Obi-Wan had had many lessons with him during his training), he was unconcerned. The Jedi was strong and knowledgeable, but Dementor had the advantage: anger, power, desire. Even if the saber Master combined the most ferocious attacks from Forms I-VI, he would still not have the strength or speed to defeat Dementor.
The Jedi would not survive.
"That's where you're wrong, Kenobi."
Bored, he replied "Do explain." He unhooked the hilt of his lightsaber from his belt, but did not activate it.
"Your aggression will be your downfall. It will blind you, decrease your accuracy. You will make a mistake," the Jedi promised calmly, "and I will take advantage of it."
Dementor grinned sadistically. "I look forward to proving you wrong."
His crimson blade ignited.
-----
Obi-Wan had arrived at the Temple; Qui-Gon could sense him.
Desperation flowed through the Temple in currents similar to those of a flash flood. Every Jedi was more alert, eyes shifting rapidly from one place to another, as if expecting the Sith to jump out at them from the shadows. The troops seemed rejuvenated, attacking their prey harder and faster than before, fighting with renewed energy.
This was it.
Qui-Gon had known that it would eventually come, but he had been praying to the Force to stall his impending duty – the inevitable battle between light and dark, Jedi and Sith…
…Master and Padawan.
He had to face Obi-Wan.
He had to destroy him.
But he wasn't sure he had the strength…
-----
The charred, smoking body of Cin Drallig slipped off the crimson energy beam, falling next to the limb-less torso of his deceased apprentice.
Dementor arrogantly smirked. "Somehow, 'I told you so' just doesn't seem like enough."
Using the Force, he picked up the deceased Jedi's lightsaber and spun it in the air. The alloy tube shimmered in the morning sun. He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the intoxicating power of the Force. It flowed through his veins like fire, allowing him to manipulate it to his needs.
The weapon imploded.
It clattered to the floor as he slowly eased out of his Force-induced high.
Very shortly, he would be the most powerful being in the galaxy, and there would be no one to stop him.
His comlink chirped.
"What is it?"
"We've found Skywalker."
-----
Darkness descended…
"Kenobi." Skywalker's eyes narrowed.
With a wave of his hand, all the clones in the vicinity left, leaving only the two rivals to face one another.
No distractions.
"It's Darth Dementor, Skywalker," the Sith spat venomously. "And you'd do well to remember that."
Finally, after all these years…he had Anakin Skywalker right where he wanted him. He would be able to show him just how much pain he had suffered. He would make him feel what the once-Jedi had felt every day after Qui-Gon had cast him aside. The anger, the frustration… He would make the boy suffer.
Revenge would be very, very sweet indeed.
"Well, at least you got a wizard name out of the deal," Anakin replied nonchalantly, seemingly unconcerned with the Sith Lord's threat.
Darth Dementor's blood boiled. "Oh, but I've gained so much more," he breathed, taking a predatory step forward, his limber body slinking towards his enemy like a hunting nexu, stealthily watching his prey, searching for weaknesses. His lightsaber remained ready in the palm of his hand.
"Oh yeah?" Anakin's blue eyes challenged the Sith Lord. "What?"
His voice was just a hiss, dripping with hatred. "The power to rid the galaxy of you and your traitorous Master."
Sudden confusion plastered the young Jedi's face. "What do you mean? You're the traitor."
"You know exactly what I mean, Skywalker."
"I wouldn't have asked if I did."
A putrid sound escaped Dementor's throat. Akin to a laugh, it was laced with insanity-ridden malice, glottal and poisonous. The Jedi unconsciously took a step back, much to the delight of the Dark Lord.
"Playing innocent to the last, Skywalker? Your precious Jedi would be proud…"
Anakin shook his head in disbelief. "You're insane."
"No," he countered quickly, sliding closer to the pathetic life form before him, pushing him back and boxing him into a corner. "What's happened to me is far worse." There was an ominous pause as Dementor called on the Force to strengthen his impending attack. "I've learned the truth."
They were an arm's length away now. Dementor could hear every rattling breath the Jedi took, could smell the stink of the sweat on his tunic, could feel him shiver under the dark, unyielding power Dementor radiated.
"Tell me, Chosen One – do you fear anything?"
The Light Side of the Force gathered around Anakin. "Only becoming you."
The battle began.
The Sith Lord jabbed his crimson blade at the Jedi apprentice, but Anakin, his strength magnified by the Force, anticipated the move and spun away from him quickly, widening the space by entering a conjoined room.
Such a tactic gave Skywalker the advantage, and Dementor was not going to allow that to happen. He leapt after him, closing the gap between them once again, throwing his anger into aggressive blows, an unrelenting attack on the Jedi's precious savior. The strain of the fight shone in both opponents as their lightsabers clashed repeatedly, muscles quivering under the force of the attacks.
But neither dared surrender to the other. Both fought for a cause greater than that of their own lives. Anakin fought for his home and his family, his way of life. He fought to preserve what a thousand years of service had created, what had stood strong through all the years despite various attempts to destroy it. For Dementor, it was revenge, a force birthed from jealousy and unstoppable by any means other than that of fulfillment.
"I'll never understand why Qui-Gon mourned you for so long," Anakin remarked as they found themselves in a temporary stalemate, crystal and crimson sizzling and crackling between them. "Even after he discovered the monster you really are."
Dementor kicked Anakin in the gut. "Liar," he hissed at him as he slashed with fury, desperate to overcome the Jedi. How dare he continue to lie to him, even now in the face of death? "Qui-Gon Jinn never cared about anything but his precious Chosen One." The words spit bitterly from his mouth like the poison of a viper, the saliva dripping down his chin in long rivers, gravity pulling it to the floor. "Five minutes with you, and he was willing to give up everything to ensure your training. He was even willing to die for you."
He attacked twice as viciously as before, throwing ten years' worth of pain, hatred, and heartbreak into his swings. Anakin could scarcely keep up with his furious blows, barely twisting out of the way before the energy shaft crisped the air where his limbs had been.
Dementor gripped his lightsaber so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his palms began to sweat. He drove at the antagonist of his life, pouring all his emotion into the fight. But it was still not enough. Skywalker evaded his countless deadly strikes, countered his powerful maneuvers, and stalled his vicious Force attacks.
His fury rose.
Nothing was adequate to release his anger.
A particularly powerful blow caused Anakin to drop his lightsaber. The Dark Lord, his eyes madly glinting in victory, grabbed the boy's throat in a bone-crushing vice grip, squeezing hard enough to tear out his esophagus. Anakin struggled against the Sith Lord, who laughed in delight as he squirmed and gasped. His life drained with each oxygen-less second.
"You're the savior of the Jedi?" Dementor exclaimed incredulously. They expected a mere human boy – barely a man – to bring their precious Force into balance? He wasn't even strong enough to defeat him. How could he possibly balance the Force?
An unexpected Force-push sent Dementor tumbling backwards.
The Sith cursed as he recovered in a somersault and leapt at the gasping Anakin, who met his attack with a well-place punch.
The lightsaber slipped from his hand.
Now Anakin was on the offense as Obi-Wan dodged his swings while trying to regain his fallen weapon. He called it to his hand just in time to block the otherwise fatal blow to his neck.
Nice try, Jedi…
Their lightsabers met again and again. Sparks flew every time they clashed, singeing robes, skin, and hair. They ignored the pain; they ignored their screaming muscles, the drips of sweat that stung their eyes…
Nothing mattered except winning.
Anakin's crystal beam feinted to the left and came back around, nicking Dementor's right hip. The pain raced up his nervous system, and he cried out against his will. The Jedi took advantage of his distraction and rained powerful blows on Dementor, who fought back desperately. He would not be overtaken by Anakin… He would not by killed by Qui-Gon's perfect Padawan…
The hilt of his lightsaber met Anakin's skull with a sickening crack.
Dementor wasted not a second in gathering the Dark Side and throwing Force-lightning at the boy. The power sang throughout their arena…or was that Anakin's throat-tearing scream? His pain gave the Dark Lord strength and stamina, his agony filling his mind and body like a drug.
Anakin collapsed to the ground, writhing against the pain. There was not a more delicious sight in the universe.
At long last, he relented his attack.
"You've lost, Skywalker. The Jedi cannot save you. Your powers cannot save you. Even your beloved Master Qui-Gon is incapable of delaying the inevitable." He looked around for show as the smoking Jedi watched him with wary eyes. "Where is Qui-Gon? Surely, he'd come try to save you, wouldn't he? You…his perfect apprentice…his Chosen One…" He sneered. Anakin was no more than a pathetic heap of charred robes at his feet.
It finally dawned on Anakin. "You're…you're jealous…"
"It's more than warranted," he replied coldly, regarding the Jedi with unadulterated disgust. "Qui-Gon couldn't take his mind off you after we'd found you on that Force-forsaken dust ball. He thought of nothing but training you…turning you into a flawless Jedi. It didn't matter that the Code forbid it, that he already had an apprentice… He had to have you."
"You were ready…for the trials," Anakin tried to explain. "Qui-Gon said so himself."
"HE SAID THAT TO GET RID OF ME!" Dementor roared, rage soaring through his very core. "He was tired of training me! He wanted YOU!"
Anakin shook his head. "Qui-Gon wouldn't do that. Qui-Gon love – "
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
He struck out with the Force, weaving it around Anakin's throat in a second attempt to strangle him. Anakin, however, was too weak to fight it and lay still as death began to take him.
But that wasn't vengeful for the Sith Lord. He wanted to watch him suffer during his last moments, not accept death without a fight. He released the boy and chucked his lightsaber at his pathetic frame.
"Get up," he commanded angrily, igniting his lightsaber.
Anakin stared. "What?"
"GET UP!"
Hesitantly, he struggled to his feet.
"Fight me, Chosen One. Fight me and die a slow, painful death with the knowledge that you were unable to save your pathetic Jedi – even blasted Qui-Gon Jinn."
The Chosen One's eyes widened. "No!"
Force-lightning danced from his fingertips once more, the energy screaming in release and overtaking the Jedi's savior once more.
A horrible cackle filled the room, insanity and darkness intertwined, a brewing storm of hatred and vindictive pleasure feeding off the pleading screams of the Jedi Order's only hope for salvation.
The Chosen One, created from the Force by the Force, at long last returned home.
-----
The Other Author's Notes: For so long I dreaded this chapter. It was the reason I took an almost year-long hiatus when I began writing this the first time because, at that time, I had Anakin die much earlier, and I simply couldn't do it. However, that being said, I find myself pleased with the way that I have written it, and I am anxious to hear your thoughts on the matter. The next chapter's the last one...and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan finally confront one another. Will someone else die? Will Obi-Wan be redeemed? Is someone going to hire a bounty hunter to assassinate me because I killed Anakin? Oh Force, I hope not... I must admit, I was surprised to find that most of you, out of the three leading men, would rather see Anakin die. I guess it just goes to show that Obi-Wan's a great character no matter what affliation...or I just wrote Anakin really crappy... Anyway, enough rambling...stay tuned for next week's intense finale (with a possible preview of the next installment...yay!). Review!
Author's Edit: 8-21-2007