If you can, please review every fic you read, it really is important to the author! hell, look how fast I'm posting the rest of the story!
Interestingly enough, the thought of Obi-Wan crossing to the Dark didn't even occur to me as I was writing the last chapter, or at any point in this fic. Though he would look excellent in black, I just don't think it's in him to cross over, so sorry if I scared anyone. It's not him I'm worried about …
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TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter twenty-two: when the night ends
"And I'm telling you, friend, that he's not dead!"
The Corellian stood before the young house slave, blonde head cocked, fists twitching, bouncing on the balls of her booted feet: the very image of angry, desperate denial. Her low voice was insistent as she clenched her fist tightly around the small transmitter chip the silent girl had dropped apologetically into her palm.
"He's not dead," she repeated, dangerously quiet, "and we can make this so much easier on all of us if you just tell me where he is."
"I am sorry, ma'am," the young woman said carefully, genuinely regretful as she dropped her gaze disconsolately to the floor. "I was told to give this to you with the Lady's regrets if you came for Obi-Wan." Despite the apologetic tone in her voice, to Delian her words sounded suspiciously scripted, especially as the girl added, "He simply wasn't suited to the demanding life we slaves must endure here."
"A Jedi wasn't suited to moisture farming? That's bullshit," Delian snapped ferociously; the fragile chip splintered in her hand, shards cutting into her skin as she tightened her grip angrily. "He's been through too much to die here in this stupid hellhole."
The Corellian didn't bother wasting time being emotional despite the frustrated tears threatening to break through. She narrowed her gaze as she surveyed the other woman, free hand twitching toward her blaster grip menacingly, irritated by the girl's stalling. "Tell me the truth: where's Kenobi?"
The slave's eyes widened at the implied threat, but she shook her head firmly, long curls rustling behind her as she did so. "I'm sorry," she bit off, "But, please, you must believe me; I can tell you no more."
Through her angry haze, Delian somehow noticed the fear reflected in the girl's eyes – not at her, but something that frightened the slave even more than the budding wrath of Delian Ani-Suru. Forcing herself to calm down, she immediately withdrew her hand from near her holster, facing her palm out regretfully. "I'm sorry," she murmured quietly. "It's just very important that I find Kenobi. I know he's here … but he doesn't belong here."
A small shadow detached itself from one of the long, decorative drapes hanging near the entryway, darting past Delian's line of vision. The young slave's eyes followed the outline fearfully with a firm, futile shake of her head, and a sigh escaped her lips as the shadow reformed into a pale, dull-eyed slip of girl, a little older than Anakin, who quietly came to stand beside her. Delian tried uncomfortably not to stare at the thin furrow scarring the side of the girl's young face, instead forcing a smile she wasn't feeling.
"Do you know where Obi-Wan is?" she asked gently. "Can you help me?"
"Jubily, no," the house slave hissed at the smaller girl, shooting Delian an irate, anxious glare. "Go back to work. Please. The Lady – "
The young child shook her head fiercely, interrupting in a harsh rasp, "Miral, it's for Obi-Wan. We have to. He needs help." She glanced timidly at Delian, and the Corellian's stomach turned sickly as she considered the young girl who had probably never known what it was to be free or to live without constant fear of punishment. "I can help you," she offered firmly, if a little shyly.
"My sister doesn't know what she's speaking of," Miral interrupted smoothly, shooting a pleading stare at the smaller slave that went unheeded.
"Miral," the girl said quietly, "the Lady will kill him." Her hushed tone turned worried, dreadful shadows haunting her listless eyes as she whispered, "She let the overseers have him again; she said he needed to be taught a lesson. He can't take anymore, Miral, he's so weak now."
Miral's eyes closed painfully, and when they opened again she faced Delian with grim determination. "Obi-Wan had a chance to escape, but they caught him when he tried to free Jubily," she murmured. "For this, we'll tell you where he is, and please – " she reached out to grasp Delian's hand in her own thin fingers, " – if there's any way for you to take Jubily with you when you and Obi-Wan go, please, please do."
Delian swallowed hard at the words of both girls, feeling more dread than anything else. She tried to shake herself out of it – she'd finally found Kenobi, and he'd be free to go home with Qui-Gon, back to his Jedi Temple where he could be all adorably high-and-mighty as she'd first teased him about.
So why was her heart pounding and lodged uncomfortably in her throat?
"You must be careful," Jubily warned her fretfully, fidgeting as she gestured down the way she had come. "Follow this hall to a door at the end. Through that door you'll see a small building just outside. Obi-Wan is there." Sad eyes gazed up earnestly at Delian. "Please help him."
"I will," Delian promised, trying to give the girl a reassuring smile despite the crushing weight that had settled on her shoulders. Cautiously she unholstered her blaster – a barely-passable replacement for the customized one Jinn had destroyed and still owed her for – and stalked slowly down the long hall, each step barely louder than a scrape across sand.
She made it down the hallway without incident, out the door, and was palming open the unlocked door to the outbuilding before it hit her:
She'd been here before.
Not physically, she knew, but oh, Kest, she had been here many, many times in a dream that she'd first had after meeting Obi-Wan Kenobi; the Bad Dream she'd spent hours and hours telling herself was just a dream, nothing more.
There were doors lining the dark corridor of the outbuilding but Delian ignored them. She knew where she needed to go, hating that everything in this place was so familiar to her without her ever having stepped foot through the door before. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body, could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Knew that she was already dreading what she would find in the last room as her feet mindlessly propelled her towards the doorway.
Don't go into the room, Delian.
Don't go inside.
But she had no choice. Obi-Wan needed her.
She stepped inside.
OOOOOOOOOO
Marjhan was furious. She had left very specific instructions about the type of "lesson" the defiant slave would receive, and her overseers had disobeyed her – recklessly, and to their own agonizing disadvantage, they would soon discover.
Now, she surveyed the still form crumpled in a tangled heap on the floor as her anger boiled terribly.
He was no good to her in this shape, and she had had very detailed and specific plans for him tonight. Her husband would be home in the morning, and she had intended to have Kenobi completely broken before his return, hers willingly and obediently. Risq had a soft spot for the young slave and she would see the end of her accustomed lifestyle if he ever knew what she had done and planned to do to the slave she now knew had once been a Jedi.
She had gone to great lengths to keep Obi-Wan, to the point of carving deeply into his flesh to retrieve the transmitter buried in his thigh and also threatening the life of his Jedi Master if he ever returned for the slave, but now she wondered worriedly if Obi-Wan was better off to her dead. She could easily allow him to die right here on the floor and tell her husband it had been an accident; Risq may suspect, but if she covered it up well enough, he would never have proof.
Marjhan knelt beside Obi-Wan's still body, combing a finger through his ginger hair, streaked and matted with blood and sweat. It may be that she had no choice but to let him die anyway; he wasn't far from it now.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be, she thought sadly, tracing the outline of his ear with a fingertip. We should have been so happy together. Tonight was going to be our night, my Obi-Wan, and the thought of his hands sliding over her skin made her chest tighten with immediate lust …
The door hissed open and Marjhan turned in surprise, irritated by the disturbance then angrier still when she realized who her visitor was.
"What do you want?" she snapped as she recognized the woman who had visited her with Jinn earlier. It seemed like so long ago …
The blonde ignored her rudely, staring in horror at the crumpled heap of torn flesh and clothing that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Marjhan watched suspiciously as the woman shook her head sharply to bring herself back into the moment and, stooping quickly by the slave, checked for any sign the young man still lived. She must have found one, because she turned infuriated eyes to Marjhan and her voice was low and terrible as she spoke.
"He's coming with me."
Suddenly possessive of her beloved prize, feeling the aching of want in her chest that was slowly spreading warmly throughout her body - Obi-Wan may not be in the best shape, but they could still have some fun tonight - Marjhan scowled. "I don't think so. He was expensive, and he's one of my favorites."
"Yeah, it shows," the blonde – Delian – snapped at her sharply. "I'll buy him," she added firmly, "if you've managed to leave enough of him worth purchasing."
It was a horrible choice for Marjhan. Give up Obi-Wan? Even now her fingers were twitching toward the shreds of his tunic, hungry to feel the warm, tanned skin beneath.
However …
Marjhan could feel the stickiness of Obi-Wan's bloody ribcage under her wandering hand, the harshly labored movements of his chest struggling to rise and fall and she knew sadly he probably didn't have much longer in this life, may not even make it to day's end. And while Obi-Wan really did please her like none of her previous playthings had, selling him would be an even better excuse to provide her husband; he would be far less angry at her for peddling one of his slaves than for actually killing him.
And if Obi-Wan died from his mistreatment once Delian had taken him away, well, Risq would never know and Marjhan herself could always imagine the young Jedi healed up nicely and they would meet again someday in this life. In fact, she could plan for that.
The Lady of the House flashed the Delian a sardonic smile, struggling to ignore the rueful sadness that overwhelmed her at the thought of losing Obi-Wan. He'd been so beautiful, and such a delicious challenge.
"He'll be good for you," she managed to say, already regretting her decision to let him go but knowing it was best for her. "Trust me. In many ways," she added with a leer she couldn't help; Obi-Wan did that to her, made her go farther than she wanted. The fact that he was dying on her floor right now was proof of that. "He just needs a little … persuading at times." Marjhan caressed a gentle hand down Kenobi's jaw, ignoring the red stain her bloody fingers left there.
"Isn't that right, Obi-Wan?" she prodded, and smiled beatifically when Obi-Wan whimpered under her touch, but the guttural noise that emerged from his throat was more animal than human and the blonde standing anxiously nearby shuddered, grotesquely riveted by the grim display.
"Enough," Delian ordered hoarsely, shaking off the apprehension that blanketed her. She needed to act now. "Hands off my merchandise. Tell me what you want for him so I can get him to a medcenter," she snapped.
Marjhan immediately named an exorbitant sum, wistfully hoping the other woman would refuse and void the offer, but Delian nodded shortly without even blinking at the price.
"Fine. I'm gonna call for a transport, and I want you to get a doctor or a medkit or whatever the hell you've got to help him. And I'd appreciate it if you stayed where he can't see you but I can." The blonde inclined her head to indicate Marjhan's eyes should follow; she did and frowned when the blonde's fingers wrapped around her blaster grip suggestively.
"I don't know what the hell happened here," Delian continued severely, "but I'm pissed off enough that I'm gonna shoot first and not bother asking questions later because there won't be anyone left to ask. Understand?"
"Of course," Marjhan nodded graciously, tense from the rage in the other woman's eyes. She reached unconsciously for Obi-Wan, again seeking solace in the familiarity of his skin, stroking down his thickly-muscled bicep until the blonde reached over to slap her hand away roughly.
"I. Said. Enough." Delian growled at her threateningly. "Don't touch him again, bitch. If I have to say anything else to you about it, he's gonna be free for my taking because you literally will not have the breath to argue."
OOOOOOOOOO
Though she knew he'd complain, Delian put through a call to her partner, Dirak Biggs, informing him tersely that he was needed desperately at the coordinates she was about to provide. Delian had wisely and obviously determined that Kenobi needed help as soon as possible, and if that meant Dirak had bring one of their faster vessels out to this forsaken moisture farm, then so be it.
She clicked off the link with Dirak and almost called Qui-Gon Jinn, but decided against it – the bastard had left on "more important" business and probably didn't give a damn where Kenobi was anyway.
Marjhan had stepped just outside the door after the medkit was delivered, obediently hovering where Delian could see her and the pilot was glad for it – she was hard-pressed not to put a blaster bolt between the woman's eyes and just end this mess, but Kenobi was her first concern right now; she could take care of that bitch later and she fully intended to, especially if Kenobi died.
Delian bit down hard, trying to calm her anxiety as she waited for Dirak. She didn't even know what to do for Kenobi and for the first time in a very long time, she actually regretted not paying more attention to her parents when they had tried to train her in Healing arts.
Kenobi was fighting the painkillers Marjhan had brought. Why the hell he was doing it, Delian didn't know, but something about the blackness of unconsciousness must have been more frightening to him than existing within layers of pain and Delian wasn't sure if she wanted to know what that something was. She'd never imagined a Jedi would be afraid of the dark.
"Is it helping?" Marjhan asked quietly, and Delian swallowed back her revulsion at the woman's voice. How deeply she'd been involved in Kenobi's current state was a mystery to the Corellian, but she seemed truly concerned, perhaps even remorseful and Delian was spitefully glad for it. She continued to ignore the woman, focusing instead on the battered Jedi jerking agitatedly against the effects of the painkillers Delian had pumped into his system.
Kenobi was whimpering, keening as he tossed restlessly, but as Delian sat cross-legged beside him carding his sticky hair carefully, his swollen blue-grey eyes opened slowly and he struggled to concentrate his wavering, surprised gaze on her.
"Delian?" he whispered gratingly, forcing the name past bruised lips. It sounded nothing like the last time he'd said her name during the Demolition Games: dry, amused, and so damn sexy she'd wanted to throttle him for making her feel anything for him at all. This throaty rasp he spoke her name in now was just … horrible.
Irritated at the unwanted tears that threatened, Delian swiped at her eyes angrily, trying to force a small smile for Kenobi's benefit. "Hey, baby doll," she choked out. "Bet you're glad to see me, aren't you?" Delian shook her head as she gazed at him, numbly surveying the damage now that he'd uncurled his stiff form a little. "Kest, Kenobi, did they leave any part of you in one piece?"
"Don't think so," Kenobi wheezed, fighting to lift a hand to wipe away the thin stream of blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he succeeded only in lengthening it into a smear of red across the dark bruises marring his cheekbone. She noticed his gaze flicking around weakly, and it was a painful moment where the only sound heard was his rasping struggle to breathe before he asked slowly, so damn hopefully: "Qui-Gon?"
Her betraying heart shattered into a thousand pieces and the first tears she'd been fighting to keep in finally broke free to slide down her cheek, dripping lazily off her chin to plip on the Jedi's torn tunic.
"Oh, baby, I'm sorry," she breathed, gathering him into her arms as gently as she dared, desperately wanting to comfort him, shooting a warning glare at Marjhan as the dark-haired woman stepped forward, bitter jealousy staining her features. Marjhan backed up spitefully at the Corellian's threatening move toward her blaster, anger twisting her lips into a sneer.
"I'm so sorry," Delian murmured sorrowfully, dropping her gaze back to the Jedi. "He's not here … "
Obi-Wan's battered face fell, and as Delian watched the struggle to fight faded from his eyes, leaving them dull and listless, his rigidly held body going suddenly slack in her arms despite her fierce command to stay with her, damn it!
And then there was a rush of noise outside as Dirak arrived and there was no longer any time to consider the various unpleasant things she wanted to do to both Marjhan and Qui-Gon Jinn, there was only Dirak rushing in, his horror-filled eyes taking in the scene before him, and their agonizingly slow movements as they carefully loaded Kenobi onto the portable stretcher. Then there was Marjhan, screaming at them and begging them not to take Kenobi away from her, hissing and crying as Delian shoved her aside roughly, subsiding only when Delian again waved the business end of her blaster at the hysterical woman.
Delian ignored Marjhan as the raven-haired Lady sank to her knees on a darkly-stained patch of flooring that the Corellian knew was soaked with Kenobi's blood, and never had the urge to end someone else's life warred so strongly in Delian as it did in that moment.
OOOOOOOOOO