Perchance to Dream
Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas.
Thanks so much to Sango for my first review!:)
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He's not sure how long he's been drifting in and out of consciousness.
It could be seconds, or it could be years.
Everything melts together... the images, the sounds, the voices of people he knows and doesn't know.
The laughter of his mother becomes the clash of light sabers becomes the soothing voice of Padme becomes the Emperor's sickly cackle...
The images pass by quickly, but not quickly enough.
He still sees each one with perfect clarity.
He curls into a fetal position and tries to shut his eyes to it all, but the images continously play behind his eyelids, and he's forced to watch every single one.
His mother's face as she died, Obi Wan's horror as he looked at him on Mustafar, the look on the face of each Youngling as he slaughtered them one by one...
He's terrified.
Terrified because he doesn't remember half of these horrors he's being forced to witness over and over again; terrified that this is happening at all and that he can't stop it.
And he still doesn't know where he is, or why he can't sense the Force.
Through the ever shifting sounds and scenes of his memory, one thing is pervasive; one thing is constant.
The all encompassing cold that grows with each second, each decade, each century that passes.
He didn't know it was possible to feel this cold, or to feel this alone.
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"Please, help me. We don't have a lot of time."
"Are you insane? No, forget that question. Of course you are."
"We need to stop what's going on."
"Stop what's going... are you serious? The Jedi are all but gone!"
"I admit, the situation isn't as ideal as it could be, but..."
"Well, that's one way of looking at things."
"... but the fact remains that he is STILL the chosen one!"
"Perhaps you haven't been listening. He slaughtered the children! He's helping Palpatine cement his hold on the galaxy! Yoda TOLD you he was trouble!"
"Do you truly believe I don't know that?"
"Then how can you stand here and repeat the same-"
"Do what I ask. See for yourself."
"Qui Gon..."
"Please. If I'm wrong, you'll be able to tell immediately."
"Look, I want to believe you. I liked him too. But you Jedi are far too dependent on your prophecies. Look what he's done, for Force's sake!"
"He's been deceived by Palpatine's false promises. This isn't who was meant to become!"
"But this is who he is, Qui Gon. Darth Vader is evil, plain and simple."
"Nothing is that simple and you know it! I taught you that!"
"What proof do you have?"
"You know how to find out."
"... why me?"
"You know why."
"... fine. But I'm not making any promises."
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He's not sure how long after the images slow down and he's regained some of his ability to form coherant thoughts that he hears footsteps again.
He's curled up tightly in a ball on the floor, still shivering, and he flinches from the sound, remembering what happened the last time he heard footsteps and having no desire to go through that again.
The door start to slide open and he shrinks against the wall, shutting his eyes in anticipation of the blinding light in the corridor.
There is none.
Cracking open one eye, and trying to calm himself, he looks at the doorway.
Two figures are there this time; a man and a woman, their features obscured in the darkness.
They appear to be facing his direction, and a part of him flares in anger at being put on display.
It's not fair.
They're speaking to each other, but the sound is muffled to his ears. He doesn't know if it's because of the drugs in his system, or if his captors did something to the room that causes that effect, but he knows that it's annoying.
As if sensing his mood, they stop talking.
One of them... the male... has a profile that's vaguely familiar, but in his state, he can't for the life of him figure out who it might be.
The woman's arms are folded, and she speaks again.
He gives up on the words, and tries to focus on the tone of her voice.
It's... kind?
Simultaneous with that knowledge comes the realisation that the room is getting warmer.
He body, tense for who knows how long, starts relaxing, fraction by fraction.
The smell of medicine is also starting to fade away, but slowly.
He can understand the woman's words now.
"Can you hear us?"
He nods, still wary.
Blue eyes try to focus on her face, but the room is still too dark.
"How old are you?"
That's a weird question.
He opens his mouth to answer, but stops.
He can't remember.
Oh no.
"I... I don't know."
And again, he hates the way his voice sounds when he admits it.
Looking into their faces, he feels that he can trust them.
"Where am I?"
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Okay, that was chapter two:) Constructive reviews are always welcome.