A/N: Bleh this is turning into more of a monster than I thought...
"You have to understand how we feel," Councilman McCone says, staring hard at Charles. "We haven't revealed to the President who he is yet, but we cannot on good conscience continue giving a Sith lord shelter here without even letting the planet government know."
Charles sighs and rubs two fingers against his forehead; he can feel a headache coming on. "And you have to understand, Councilman," he says, "that Erik is effectively a fugitive from the empire. We need time to sort out his status before letting anyone know."
"We appreciate that you've bothered telling us at least," interrupts another councilman, mind heavy with sarcasm.
"Of course," Charles says, as sincerely as he can muster up the energy to be, "And we appreciate, in turn, the use of the temple as a haven for the Jedi."
...
A long shadow falls over him as he leaves the Council chambers, feeling more frustrated than he had going in. Every single meeting with the Council seems to end the same way—Erik. He understands their fear, he really does, but he also thinks that they could give him a little trust on this one, especially since his team of Jedi have managed to subdue the major threats that the planet's faced over the past year—who knew a quiet little planet like this one would attract so many insane people anyways?—as well as the charity work they've been doing.
"How was your meeting?" Erik asks.
"It could have gone better," Charles admits.
Erik barks out a laugh. "This is why I didn't want to come here, Charles." He's quiet for a moment, then adds, "You would think they would trust you at least by now though."
"They're afraid," Charles says wearily. He doesn't want an argument right now, not when he's mentally exhausted after having argued pointless loops with people who just don't want to listen.
Erik smiles with too much teeth. "And they should be." But he relents, saying, "They'll come around. If anyone can convince them, it's you."
Charles thinks back to the fear and distrust in the room, even after a year of the agreement between government and Jedi, and has some doubt—not that he'll mention it to Erik. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he says.
Erik puts a casual arm around his shoulders. "You convinced a Sith lord to give up the Dark," he says. "A couple of Force-less politicians should give you no trouble at all."
And Charles should comment on that note of disdain, he really should, but he's too tired and distracted by the warm arm on his shoulders, and the answering curl of heat in his stomach to the warmth in Erik's voice.
"I've been thinking," Charles says to Erik one day in the library where Erik quite a bit of his time. "I think I'd like to open a school."
"You already have a school, Charles," came Erik's reply over the holobook he was reading. "Or have you not had enough of screaming children?"
"Yes well," Charles says, ignoring his second comment. "A school specifically for the Force-sensitive."
That piques Erik's interest at least, as his eyes do not immediately stray back to the text.
"There has to be more Force-sensitive children out there. I can only find so many, and having Shaw find them instead is not really the best choice for anyone, is it?"
Erik's gaze darkens slightly. "No, it's not," he agrees. He meets Charles's gaze squarely and Charles wonders if now, perhaps, is the right time to talk about what he saw in the memory Erik showed him.
He's trying to figure out the best way to approach the topic when Alex runs into the library. "Master," he says, because Charles hasn't managed to break them out of the habit, and then stops short when he sees Erik.
"What is it Alex?" Charles prompts. Alex shifts his attention back to Charles.
"Council says to tell you there's a riot in the city square," Alex says. "They're hoping you can go smooth things over."
Charles quickly gets to his feet, Erik following suit. "How bad is it?"
"Couple hundred, they said," Alex says, glancing at Erik. "Banshee and Darwin are ready and waiting."
"Right," Charles says briskly.
"I'm coming with you," Erik says.
"No," Charles says immediately. "It's too dangerous."
Erik glares at him but doesn't say anything else, though Charles can feel the thoughts swirling beneath the surface of his mind. He trails him all the way to the speeder where his two Jedi are waiting.
"Yeah he doesn't let me go out on missions either," Charles hears Raven tell Erik, who huffs out an irritated breath.
Underneath the annoyance and fear though, lies a single, clear thought that's more like a wish. Be careful.
…
Alex hadn't been exaggerating, unfortunately. The police are trying to round the club wielding and picket sign waving mob up, or at least corralling them into less populated areas when they arrive. They're not having much luck.
Shattered glass and damaged vehicles lie on the streets. Alarms are blaring and some people are attempting to flee. The streets are crowded with people shouting and shoving and beating people who get to close.
Darwin parks the speeder into a side alley away from the commotion at Charles's silent command. "I'm going to try and get a sense of things," Charles says. "Stay here."
He waits for their nods before closing his eyes and diving into the fray. An avalanche of confused emotion immediately assaults his mind. anger-fear-pain-hurt-hate-disgust—
Charles falls back into his own head with a roaring headache. He hates riots.
Banshee and Darwin are staring at him expectantly. "It started out as a protest," Charles says. "And escalated from there."
He resignedly settles in to deal with the problem; the wildly fluctuating emotions and hundreds of minds involved means that it could take hours. Spreading his awareness, Charles searches for the emotional hotspot, the area where the leaders were congregated, where the violence was greatest and the passion the most intense. He's about to begin the long process of touching minds and soothing edges when someone pulls out a blaster and starts firing into the crowd.
The tension goes taut like wire yanked tight. Charles searches for the man with blaster. What are you doing, Charles? comes Erik's curious voice out of the clamor.
Not now, Erik, he says, combing through the places where the pain-fear-pain is most prominent, but it's difficult; there's just so many minds packed in a small area, emotions and thoughts overlapping and running into each other.
Erik continues as if he hadn't spoken. Let me show you something, he offers and opens his mind wide and pulls Charles in. Charles flounders before Erik stills him. He gets an image of Erik kneeling in the freshly turned dirt of the garden, palms flat on the ground, concentrating hard.
He can still hear the screams of the rioters in the back of his head. Erik…
Someone falls to the ground, clutching uselessly at her leg a street away from where they are parked. Someone stops amid the half-crazed crowd and tries to drag her to the side of the road before she is trampled to death. Now the police are firing into the air, and their fear is bright against the shadows the tall buildings throw down; it won't be long before they turn their weapons on the people. Until suddenly, it's all gone.
It's quiet, and it's peaceful.
The sounds are still there, but muted. What did you do, Erik? he asks, although he already knows. But the dampener…
Is only a dampener, Erik replies. Vaguely, Charles gets a sensation of the cool dirt on Erik's hands where they're buried in the earth.
It's quiet and it's peaceful in Erik's mind for once, and Charles knows exactly what to do. He sinks back into his own mind, keeping the connection open, and breathes in deep. And as he breathes in, he feels what Erik feels: the minerals in dirt, the ancient veins of copper deep within the mountains, the steel of the solid buildings, all waiting out the passage of time in their slow, slumbering existences.
Charles breathes out.
Stop.
And they do. As a whole, rioters and police alike stumble to halt wherever they are, minds cleared of the unstoppable emotions of the mob, blinking in bewildered silence at the sunlight and chirping of birds. The man with the blaster drops it almost in surprise and the clattering sound it makes jolts nearby police out of their daze to restrain him.
When Charles blinks back into his own mind, connection with Erik's mind reduced to a thread, he finds Banshee and Darwin staring at him in awe.
He finds he doesn't really like the feeling, but it's swamped by elation, by how easy it had been to simply calm an entire mob down. Erik is like a satisfied hum in his mind.
When Charles had urged Erik to spend a day with the young Jedi, he hadn't expected them to return on time, but dirty and exhausted as if they'd been running instead of shopping and sightseeing.
"What happened?" Charles demands.
"It's Erik," Raven says. "They arrested him."
"What in the world for?"
Hank shifts awkwardly. "For, um, brawling, destruction of private property, attacking police officers, and um, use of powers without a permit," he ticks off on his fingers.
"Dammit Erik!" Charles mutters. This mess is going to take a while to sort through.
"You lot go to the infirmary," he orders. "I'll deal with you later."
They shuffle off but Raven stands there staring at him mulishly. "Just go," Charles says wearily. "I have to go get Erik out of prison and hope to the Force that they haven't discovered who he used to be."
Raven looks immediately contrite. There'd been a time, like that morning, when she'd have been happy to see Erik locked away, preferably forever with the key thrown away. At least some good had come out of today.
...
"Master Jedi," the warden greets him.
"Warden," Charles inclines his head politely.
"Follow me," the man says.
He leads Charles into the jail, past the snoozing drunks in the single-day holding pens and young pickpockets, down a level to the thieves and con artists, down past the murderers and rapists, even down past the insane serial killers.
"Where is he exactly?" Charles asks, because the crimes Hank listed hadn't been terrible enough to warrant a cell this deep.
The warden looks at him. "Solitary confinement," he says shortly.
"Why—?" Charles begins.
"No idea," the warden cuts him off. "Orders are orders."
They get into the creaking elevator that takes them to solitary confinement. Charles shivers. The deeper they go, the more the dark side has taken root. He can feel its slimy curiosity attempting to worm it's way into his mind, drawing back with a hiss when it can't.
The elevator door opens with a clank.
The warden's communicator beeps. They both look at it and then the warden shrugs. "Cell 0002," he says. "Go straight, take a left and another left."
"Thank you," Charles replies. And the elevator starts to make its clanking way up again.
It's a wasteland of darkness down there. Solitary confinement isn't a cell to oneself as it is on other planets. On Ryalagra, it's an underground labyrinth, with cells sectioned off with barbed wire and electrical fencing. Most people go insane once they've been locked up for awhile there, if they hadn't already been insane to start with. Charles shivers again and tries to figure out how long Erik's been there.
The door to his cell is locked, and Charles doesn't have a key. "Erik?" he calls softly, hoping he's nearby.
When there's no sound, he closes his eyes and suggests to the frankly terrifyingly complicated lock that it wants to open. He's nowhere near powerful as, say, young Jean in telekinesis, but he's spoken to the Force for a long time. And the light side of the Force doesn't want the dark to have Erik any more than Charles does.
The lock groans open.
Charles starts walking, cautiously extending his mind in search of Erik.
It's proof of how the Dark has clouded his mind when Charles almost stumbles over him.
Erik is sitting with his back against the wall, arms wrapped around drawn up legs. The Dark is coiled around him, whispering in his ear and crawling through his mind.
He hadn't even looked up when Charles staggered.
"I won't let it have you, Erik," Charles says fiercely, and dives into his friend's mind to save it.
"Erik," he says calmly. "I'm here Erik. I promised you that you aren't alone."
He feels Erik's mind shifting in surprise at his presence, a gentle glow of hope that he's here, Erik's not alone in the dark anym—
Yes you are, the darkness hisses. You've always been in our embrace. And you have embraced us as well.
"No," Charles says gently at Erik's confusion. "I'm here. Like I promised."
The Dark snarls—
He's on a bridge and Erik's dangling below, white-knuckled grip on a rope.
Charles reaches out a hand towards him. Erik looks down, then up at him, and stretches his own hand out. Just a little bit further… But as their fingertips touch, the bridge collapses underneath his feet. They fall together into the darkness.
Erik is wandering a maze and Charles finds him. "Follow me," he says, tugging on Erik's arm, and Erik stumbles after him as Charles unerringly finds his way out.
Erik's trying to walk through a sandstorm and Charles finds him. "Take my hand," he says, and Erik grabs it and Charles leads him to shelter.
Erik is falling through the air, and Charles finds him. "Hold onto me," he says, and Erik hugs him tight, and Charles's parachute slows their descent enough so that they both land safely.
Erik is in the ocean, being dragged below, and Charles finds him. Charles dives; there is no hesitation. "Erik!" he gasps, dragging his head above the water. "I promised you. You are not alone."
Erik stops struggling in his arms and the dark shape of the submarine disappears unnoticed beneath them, forgotten like the wisps of a nightmare upon awakening.
Erik is six years old and he's helping his mother light the menorah. He's old enough to do it himself now, and he wants to do it perfectly. As the tips of each candle light up in brilliant, golden light, his mother reaches out to touch his cheek. Charles stands in the shadows, watching the scene. "Erik," he says softly, and the boy looks up, eyes light and innocent in a way he has never seen before, a way that makes his heart ache. Their eyes meet and Erik stumbles away from him.
"No!" he cries, but Charles stands fast.
Erik's breathing hard, breath coming in short, jagged pants. He looks at his mother, who's smiling at him lovingly, and back to Charles standing half-hidden in the shadowy corner. "Erik," Charles repeats. He holds out his hand.
Erik glances back at his mother once more and clenches his jaw, and then his eyes slide up to meet Charles's again and he walks slowly toward him. The little room begins to shake and Erik looks like he wants to run, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from Charles's, and around them the dream is crumbling and the edges are rife with the Dark.
The menorah tips over onto the ground with a crash.
Charles grabs Erik and holds him close, and leaps—
—And they rise up, and up, past darkness, past the opening clouds and into the warm sunlight, and then Charles is abruptly back in his own head.
…
His face is wet when Charles regains enough of his senses to realize. He's never delved that deeply into anyone's mind before, never even tangled with a Darkness as dark as the one that held Erik fast.
Erik has tears running down his face too but he doesn't seem to notice. He grabs blindly and Charles realizes he's wearing a Force suppression collar. He shudders in empathy.
"Charles?" Erik asks. Charles feels a fury he hasn't felt in a long, long time rise in him at how lost Erik sounds.
"I'm here," he says, keeping his voice steady. He can sense that his presence reassures Erik.
"I can't see," Erik says fearfully.
Quickly pulling out his lightsaber, Charles turns it down to the lowest possible setting, one not even noticeable in the daylight and certainly not a danger to anything. Erik still winces at the very dull glow the blade now emits. His relief though, is obvious.
"I thought I was blind," Erik admits. "It was utterly dark when I opened my eyes, not even a single speck of light, and when I reached out for the Force, there was nothing."
He reaches out to touch Charles's hand. "I'm sorry," Erik says, and Charles thinks it's probably been a long time since he's apologized to anyone and meant it. "I never realized what it was like. The whole time I was down here, I thought, what would Charles do? I told myself, 'be like Charles and you'll get through this.'"
Charles can't find anything to say to that, to such faith from someone whose faith should have died when he was young. He can't even imagine what it had been like for Erik down there.
"Come on," Charles said. "I'm getting you out of here."
"They released me?" Erik asks doubtfully.
"I'm releasing you," Charles says.
"I love me a good jailbreak," Erik says, but his tone is strained.
"I won't leave you down here. Can you stand?" Charles looks at him in concern.
"I can walk."
"Good."
Progress is slow with Erik constantly cringing at every oddly shaped shadow that the glow of the lightsaber throws up. They both freeze at a snuffling sound.
"Charles?"
"Shh."
The creature's mind is barely sane, or perhaps it's always been like this, if it had been born and raised down in the Dark.
Charles intensifies the beam of his lightsaber.
Force, but it's quick.
It dodges his lunge and disappears into the darkness. Charles revolves slowly, straining his eyes by the glow of his lightsaber and his Force-senses to locate it.
"Erik," he whispers, "Stay close."
Wham. It barrels into him and he staggers, but the threat of the blade has it backing off again before it can sink its teeth into him.
The Dark laughs at him when he tries to reach out and calm its mind. Fool, it hisses. Once we claim something, it is ours…forever.
"No," he says angrily, aloud, and ducks to the side when the creature attacks again, Force-pushing it against a wall.
Dazed, it tries to stagger up again. "Sleep," Charles quickly commands, and it gives a snuffling kind of snort before toppling over.
"Nice trick," Erik says, and Charles nods, catching a slip of thought from him as he does so—is he going to kill it?
"Come on," he says, stepping around the snoring body, not in the mood to explain how Jedi didn't just kill things.
They reach the clanking elevator without further incident.
…
"Master Jedi!" someone shouts. Charles is rubbing soothing circles into Erik's shoulder with his thumb when he feels Erik tense before he realizes what he's doing.
It's alright, he thinks. I recognize her.
"Councilwo—" he starts to say when she's reached them, panting hard.
"No time for that," she says, cutting him off urgently. "The temple was attacked."
They follow her gaze upwards, where in the distance, a thin curl of smoke is rising into the night sky, visible only against the glow of flames.
As they sprint towards Councilwoman MacTaggert's speeder, Charles can hear the gentle laughter of the Dark, stalking him from the heart of the prison, echoing inside his head like a terrifying lullaby. You can't save them all, Charles, it calls to him. You can't save them from themselves…