Blood was dripping steadily onto the polished marble floors, spattering the smooth surface. From directly in front of her, Qui-Gon couldn't see where Ana was injured, but her face was ashen. Her green eyes were half closed, and the only evidence of her forest green eyes were colored slits. Her dark hair stood in sweat slicked spikes, Padawan braid hanging over her shoulder as she struggled to keep herself upright. Her lightsaber was noticeably missing from her hip, and Qui-Gon's eyes seized the minute rip on her shoulder. Xanantos's hand was clenched around her elbow hard enough to twist the skin and make her wince in pain, but his tone was courteous, cheerful, and light. He dragged her closer to Qui-Gon, who was standing deathly still, lightsaber still humming in the air. "Old friend!" Xanantos cried, hauling Ana roughly upright. Ana panted, her breath coming in shallow, sharp gasps. More blood spattered on the floor. "What a pleasant surprise! Imagine my delight when I discover that this naive little Padawan is yours! Fate has a strange way of circling itself, doesn't it?"

"Release her." The undercurrent of a growl, simmering rage, the buildup of a snarl. Ana had never heard him use that tone. In some ways, it was very comforting to hear his voice. "Your hurt is with me, not with her. Release her." Xanantos laughed, a cold, sharp laugh.

"Very touching. You trained her well, you know," Xanantos mused, ignoring the blood which was pooling at Ana's feet. "The little hellion put up quite a fight. But she let her emotion get the better of her ... another trick she learned from you, I'm sure." He smiled, exposing glittering white teeth. "She was no match for me, I'm afraid." He let her go, finally, and Ana's knees buckled. Her eyes closed as she collapsed, sides heaving with this small exhertion. "But you're right, old friend. My quarrel is with you, not with her." He unclipped his lightsaber, the red beam bursting into life as he continued smiling. "But I'm sure she will serve her uses after you are dead. She is, after all, a pretty little thing."

Crimson.

Qui-Gon attacked, closing the distance between them with a single bound. Their lightsabers met in a flourish of dancing sparks, the energy shuddering up the blades as they struck again. Xanantos's black eyes went wide as he realized the fury and raw rage of his former's Master's attack. Xanatos pressed hard but lost as step under the crushing blows of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. The Force hummed around him, dark and thick as new syrup, and Qui-Gon used every particle of it. Xanantos drew back, retreating a step or two to recover himself. He drew in a long breath, eyes suddenly alight with knowledge as he regarded his master. "I see," Xanantos breathed. Then he laughed, roaring with laughter as he gasped for breath. "I don't believe it! My old stoic master, determined to never show me love, has fallen for a pathetic young girl!" Xanatos snarled at him. "You never showed me anything but disdain, and this, this, child manages to win your favor?"

"I loved you," Qui-Gon said fiercely. "You were like my own son. But you were never strong enough. You allowed yourself to be swayed."

"Not strong enough?" Xanantos shrieked. "Not strong enough? No, Master -" Jeering, sneering, harsh, bitter, cold. "I am strong enough! More than enough, as you will see." He struck again, the Force surging around the two of them.

Ana felt the Force ebbing away like the flow of the tide. The more she tried to grasp it, the more it disappeared, like sand in her fist. She felt blood - her blood - drying on her cheek as she closed her eyes. The wound, located just above her left hip, was throbbing dully, waves of pain surfacing and sending her reeling into darkness for brief moments. Everything ached. One forest green eye, the color of silvered fir trees, opened slightly. She wanted to imprint every memory in her brain before she succumbed to the darkness leeching the corners of her vision. Above her, a battle raged, the sparks and energy from their lightsabers shuddering through the air. The wall in front of her was covered with several slaves, all terrified and confused. Their shockrifles lay in a neat pile in the furthest corner of the room. Both eyes opened, blinked slowly. Shockrifles. Not designed to kill. She closed her eyes and drew in the last reserves of her strength. The Force boiled around her, helping her drag herself painfully to her knees, smearing a trail of blood along the floors as she stood upright, grasping at the slick wall for support. The pain intensified, but she released it into the Force with limited success. Now was not the time to succumb to pain. Qui-Gon, her master, needed her. She took a halting step forward, not daring to put any weight on her left leg as knife-like bursts of pain shot up her back. She needed to focus.

Scarlet.

One step at a time. That's all she could manage. One foot in front of the other, slowly crossing the room while Xanantos and Qui-Gon dueled cruelly, blows raining down on them and burning their flesh. She hauled herself across the room, leaving a trail of blood. The Force was helping her focus, helping to banish the black roses blooming in her vision, but it was not alleviating her pain. The pain was her own. She must conquer it. With agonizing slowness, she fell to her knees by the shockrifles, bleary eyes rifling through them as she seized the nearest one. Her fingers felt numb as she groped for the trigger. The purple bullets glowed in the transparent barrel, and she finally found the trigger located on the back of the handle. She aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger.

A single purple orb, crackling with electricity, sped towards the writhing opponents faster than blinking. It struck Xanantos squarely in the lower back, embedding a hard silver nugget in his side. He shouted in pain and rage and surprise, turning and thrusting a fist towards her. Ana was picked up like a doll, the Force gripping her harshly, and slammed against the wall with a sickening crack.

Black.

Xanantos had exposed his back for a split second. It was all Qui-Gon needed to strike out at him hard, catching him solidly across the upper back. He howled, turning with unnatural speed, parrying Qui-Gon's next blow, rage and pain in his striking chilly eyes as he dueled viciously with his former master. Their lightsabers tangled, shockwaves shuddering up the hilts as they sparred. Qui-Gon felt the Force speed him, ripple over him like the wash of a warm wave, and he backflipped over his former Padawan, slicing down at him swiftly. But he was simply not there.

Xanantos checked his chrono on his wrist, and the grinned. "It's too late, old man!" he sneered. "I'll leave you to play with these new toys I sent you."

He bolted towards the doors, the Force speeding him on his way. As the doors slammed behind him, Qui-Gon saw plumes of white smoke beginning to cloud the air in front of the vents. He sipped air for a moment, tasting the metallic tang in the air, and then held his breath. He could hold his breath, but his young Padawan was completely unconscious.

The gas would kill her.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. Is anybody reading this? I'm sorry, it just feels like I'm talking to a void sometimes. Anyway, here's another chapter, dear void.