Despite being mostly finished for years, this chapter was kind of a bastard to complete and I feel like it shows, so apologies in advance if it comes across as kind of rough, I wrestled with the damn thing for hours. As always, I appreciate reader feedback on what works and what doesn't, it helps me avoid similar mistakes in the future. Please bear in mind this fic is currently rated PG13 (or T or whatever); if anyone has an issue with the rating, let me know!
I also appreciate the awesomely positive comments on New Arrangements (which I feel is a sucky title … I'm so bad with that), so thank you, thank you, thank you! Poor Obi-Wan never has it very easy in my world and NA is certainly no exception, but at least Qui-Gon gets off a little better. That's something, right?
OOOOOOOOOO
Included are some of the lyrics to matchbox twenty's "downfall," another inspiration for Marjhan. Thanks also for comments about her; I absolutely love the feedback that many readers have left about her as a character. She's damn creepy, that's for sure.
Onward! There's a missing Jedi Master lurking here somewhere …
TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter twenty-three: downfall
oooooooooo
Wonder how you sleepI wonder what you think of meIf I could go backWould you have ever been with me?I want you to be unusedI want you to rememberI want you to believe in meI want you on my side
Come on and lay it downI've always been with youHere and nowGive all that's within youBe my saviorAnd I'll be your downfall…
oooooooooo
Marjhan's frantic tears and shouts had dwindled to the merest of sighs, her grasping hands now empty and still in her lap. One thing plagued her as she sat quietly on the floor in a sticky, congealing puddle of Obi-Wan's spilled blood, the still damp redness mingling with the scattered sand and staining her long, dark skirt:
Had she let him go too easily?
Should she have done more to keep him here as she'd tried so hard to do? She could have easily called her overseers to deal with the woman Delian to prevent her from taking the slave, could have had her old repair droid patch Obi-Wan up so he could stay with her, and then they would have had many more glorious days to spend together.
Yes, she could have, but Marjhan had also known the chances of Obi-Wan surviving the night were slim; her overseers had been very enthusiastic about enforcing his latest punishment for challenging her, and hadn't left much of the slave for the repair droid to even attempt to put back together.
It was better this way, she had reasoned wisely, sending him off to die: her husband would never find out what she'd done and her life would go on as it had before Obi-Wan had been introduced into it. She certainly didn't need the Jedi slave for her to be happy.
Marjhan closed her eyes. Didn't need him …
She didn't need to see the way his striking eyes widened at her proximity, imbuing her with immediate desire that only he could fully sate …
Didn't need to feel the coiled strength of his trembling body under hers, the warm press of his tanned skin quickening her pulse, tightening her body …
Didn't need to hear the screams she'd finally dragged from his throat echoing in her ears, filling her with a pleased sense of triumph …
Didn't need to feel the utter delight that rippled through her as she openly mocked his anger, his outrage, his desolation at her torments, her teases, her spiteful withholding of the mind- and body-numbing drugs she had gotten him addicted to as his only means of relief from her continued ministrations.
And didn't need to feel the power that coursed in her as she daily brought him to despair or to relief, whichever she chose.
She didn't need him.
oooooooooo
We're getting off trackI wanna get you back againI want you to trouble meI wanted you turning downI want you to agree with meI want so much so bad…
oooooooooo
But, gods, the more she thought of him, and remembered his dulcet voice, his beautiful face, his muscular, unyielding body, the more she wanted him back now!
It wasn't her fault she'd lost him! It was those bastards who had beat him within a centimeter of his life! It was that bitch Delian who had had the gall to slap her hands away when she'd only wanted to comfort her striking, wounded lover, and then taken him away from her after she'd worked so hard to keep him…
She didn't need him. But she wanted him.
Spiteful irritation surged through Marjhan, narrowing her dark eyes and shifting her expression into one that Obi-Wan had known well and come to fear with good reason. She hadn't been thinking clearly at all! Everything had happened so fast!
Marjhan reached into her skirt pocket, withdrawing a thin tangle of braided ginger hair which she wove through her fingers absently, angrily. Could she get him back? Was there any way? Even if he died, she should be there, loving, caressing, easing his pain in his final moments! He belonged to her!
Marjhan rose gracefully to her feet, dark tresses swinging gently against her back, clear realization filtering in and already knowing it would be hopeless to attempt to retrieve Obi-Wan. She raged at the unfairness of it; she didn't even have any speeders at her disposal that would catch up with him now:
He was gone.
Marjhan screamed. And screamed, and screamed. Rage, hatred, desire for retribution against the one who had stolen her Obi-Wan. Fury started a slow boil within her, and Marjhan knew coldly that someone needed to make amends for this, for letting her favorite one be taken from her. Someone needed to feel the ache, the agony, that she was feeling at his loss.
She withdrew a comlink from her skirt and dispatched a succinct message:
"Send a slave to me in the punishment quarters," she ordered tightly. "I don't care who."
OOOOOOOOOO
Night was just falling as Qui-Gon Jinn arrived at the sprawling moisture farm, and the lateness of the hour only served to increase his mounting agitation. Mace's earlier words of caution echoed in the back of his mind, and the Jedi Master knew he had skirted dangerously far from the Living Force if his old friend on Coruscant could still catch the reverberations of his discontent.
Qui-Gon knew he could scarcely be blamed, though, for his inner turmoil; he had been through much personal chaos of late – Force, he'd been heartsick since the day so long ago when he'd watched his apprentice remain behind while he accompanied Queen Amidala on what should have been a simple journey to Coruscant.
A journey that would end in the death of the queen and those with her …
… a journey that should have ended in his death, but miraculously hadn't.
He couldn't ignore the guilt of that, it was impossible. It begged for his attention every waking second since he'd first awoken in the medcenter of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, crowding his mind, his thoughts, curling through every word he uttered, every tense breath he drew.
Once, it would have been a small thing for him to release his anxieties and heartache to the Force, but that time had since passed for Qui-Gon Jinn; the levels of his constant physical pain paired with his continual anguished thoughts kept the comforting, calming influence of the Force from soothing him, its once steady shine now dull and distant, his emotion ever clamoring for attention.
Qui-Gon climbed from the rented speeder, checking to ensure the unfamiliar lightsaber was still secured to his belt; his original weapon had been lost when he'd encountered the Sith, and while his borrowed blade from the Temple glowed as brilliant an emerald as his own lightsaber, it still didn't feel quite right; off-putting, just a bit.
It was comforting to have, however, and he wished absently that he'd been able to secure Obi-Wan's lightsaber from Delian; it would have been most rewarding to see the gratitude in his apprentice's eyes as his master triumphantly restored the lost belonging to him: the first step on a long path of healing they both needed.
Delian, however, had refused to give up the reclaimed lightsaber, instead insisting on returning the weapon herself, much to the Jedi Master's annoyance.
Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, blinking as he realized he'd unconsciously bypassed the main house altogether and now stood before a small building darkly silhouetted against the deepening night sky. He was turning back toward the main dwelling, chiding himself for delving into his thoughts and losing his way, when he realized there was an imprint clinging to the building before him that must have led him here while his conscious thought had briefly wandered into thoughts of the past.
An imprint that was unmistakably Obi-Wan Kenobi.
It had been so long, and their Bond had been shattered so abruptly and excruciatingly, that Qui-Gon nearly wept at the faint trace of his Padawan that he could feel here. His anxiety increased as he realized that even that scarce remnant of Obi-Wan was rife with misery and suffering. Gently he prodded at the ragged edges of the Bond that he had buried deep within his mind, knowing the link with his Padawan had been severed but hoping there was still enough there to lead him to his missing apprentice.
He followed the imprint, weaving a little unsteadily as it grew in strength the farther down the shadowy hall he went, realizing even before he had reached the door that the last room was his destination, the last room held his missing Padawan – soon restored to him, and Qui-Gon smiled despite his unease. Finally! Weeks of sorrow that had stretched into months were about to come to an end … an apprenticeship, a friendship, a family would be remade.
Grief and regret tumbled from his weary frame and tears, this time of joy, stung at his eyes as he rushed into the room.
OOOOOOOOOO
She should have been thrilled, excited, deliciously lustful even at the thought of gently stripping the Jedi down and slowly cleaning his exceptional body with a warm, damp cloth, and the Delian who had been several weeks younger would have fought anyone, teeth bared, for the opportunity she now had to do that very thing …
… but the Obi-Wan Kenobi she had coveted then was far, far different than the battered, trembling shell she was currently trying to keep from shaking his way off the small bunk she and Dirak had secured him to. Delian refused to cry, but Kest, it was getting difficult as she took in the extent of the injuries he had sustained.
Where the hell to even start? It appeared to Delian that she had been correct in posing her earlier disbelieving question to Kenobi: whoever had done this to him may not have actually left any part of him unscathed. From head to toe he was a mess, a mass of blood and bruising, cracked and shattered bones becoming nauseatingly apparent as she ran appraising hands over him carefully.
The most obvious injury was the gaping wound in his thigh, and Delian cringed as she carefully cleaned the shredded flesh, wishing she'd had another set of hands to help her.
Damn it, Qui-Gon, you should be here! she thought angrily, trying to carefully hold Kenobi still with one hand and clean his horrific injury with the other. Kenobi had finally - mercifully - passed out sometime during the frantic transfer to Dirak's ship, succumbing restlessly to the painkillers she had pumped him full of, but even now he twitched and shuddered under her hands, mumbling in agitation.
"Damn it, I'm not a doctor!" she grouched irritably, concerned worry roughening the edges of her own apprehension. "Or a damn Healer. I don't know what the hell to do!"
Okay, Delian, think, she commanded herself, unwilling tears biting at her eyes. There was so much damage, how could he even have a chance?
Think…
What would her parents have done? Her parents had been skilled Jedi Healers and had tried to steer their daughter into following in their footsteps. Delian had resisted then, but now she wished she'd paid a little more attention if it could possibly help her to ease Kenobi's suffering even a little.
Focus, was the first thing they had tried to teach her. Focus, and let the Force flow through you.
Delian closed her eyes as she centered her bloodstained hands over Kenobi's gory wound, trying to imagine a bright whiteness that could be the Force channeling through her, into the gash, pulling the torn edges together, saving, healing …
… saving …
… healing …
… come on …
… come on …
Nothing.
Damn it.
Annoyed with herself for even trying – what the hell was I thinking? – Delian jerked her hands away, feeling foolish for pretending to be something she very clearly wasn't. She was a pilot, a racer, a gamer, nothing more.
Quickly she set about binding the wound, jolting in distracted surprise when Kenobi twitched under her light touch, pulling away from her.
"Stop it … " he whispered, his weary voice scraping out gravelly and harsh, aching in her ears with the underlying terror in his barely lucid rasp. "…don't touch me … please … please stop … "
"Oh, Kest, Kenobi, I'm trying to help you," she muttered, tensing with anxiety, withdrawing her hands as much as she dared. "Please, sweetheart, just be still … "
There wasn't much more she could do for his leg, so with a sigh, the Corellian turned her attention to the myriad of other horrific injuries: vivid bruises, seeping cuts, new scars overlapping older blemishes, broken bones to be set …
… and she wondered what the hell had happened to Qui-Gon Jinn.
OOOOOOOOOO
He strode into the room fearfully, taking in the dank block permacrete walls, the frayed ropes looped through metal rings set deep in them, the sand strewn over the floor. He glimpsed the dark shadow of a woman standing in the middle of the room, twisting a familiar long, thin braid between her restless fingers.
And he saw blood, so damned much blood that Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat and his vision hazed red – or maybe that was just the ruby that stained parts of the walls and floor. He knew without guessing whose blood it was…
But Obi-Wan wasn't here.
Ever-lurking remorse and fear rushed back into the Jedi Master, stealing his brief joy and replacing it with far darker thoughts: the imprint of Obi-Wan screamed here, and though his Padawan was not present, it seemed to Qui-Gon's guilt-stricken conscience that he could hear the lingering echo of Obi-Wan's once wryly amused voice now rough and begging, pleading for the Master who didn't come in time to save him.
He was too late.
He had delayed too long.
He should never have even considered accepting the Council's mandate to go after Sifo-Dyas.
He had failed, and Obi-Wan may be dead because of him.
Qui-Gon sank to his knees, memories of his Padawan overwhelming him … his dry sense of humor, the way he smiled, how Qui-Gon had watched him grow from an awkward teenager to a strong and accomplished young man who was always ready with an answer, a solution, or a cynical comment to lighten a tense mood. Ten years flashed before his eyes, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest, threatening to finally just give up the long struggle against all of the strain the Jedi Master had forced himself through of late.
"What happened here?" he breathed, barely forcing the words out. "I know that Obi-Wan was here… "
The silent woman shifted, a cold, unrepentant smile sliding across her perfect lips. He could sense the darkness all around her, could feel the cruelty that slid off of her supple body; it thickened the air around him, suffocating him as she stood blithely in a chilling puddle of the blood of his Padawan, uncaring that she had harmed Obi-Wan even as she was hurting his Master now with every word she uttered viciously sharpened to wound.
oooooooooo
Now I'm back on my ownHear my feet, they're made of stoneMan, I make you go where I goWell hell, you, can I take you home?
oooooooooo
"He was here, yes, but he was … difficult," Marjhan spoke maliciously, deliberately torturing him with her carelessness, the words falling like weights over his bowed back. "I did only what was necessary to keep him in line," the Lady of the House assured sweetly, her voice dripping sugar and honey. "You said he was your apprentice, so you should know how obstinate he could be."
Marjhan allowed her smile to widen; the nameless slave the overseer would choose to send here to her hadn't been escorted in yet, but how beautiful and fitting it was to take her anger and remorse at the loss of Obi-Wan out on the one who had given him up in the first place!
It was intoxicating, watching the anguish that swelled in his deepset cornflower eyes, to persecute one who knew how she herself was feeling at Obi-Wan's loss.
"Necessary?" Qui-Gon whispered harshly, unable to shut out the cacophony of Obi-Wan's screams through the imprint of the Force Obi-Wan had unknowingly left in this horrific room - or was it just a trick of his tired mind, knowing that his Padawan may have died here alone because his master had been too late? Qui-Gon couldn't block the agony rushing through his mind at the knowledge that this woman, this creature of unthinking evil had lied to him, sent him away, and then proceeded to devastate his Padawan …
It tore at his thoughts, fed his guilt, brought pained tears to his eyes. Obi-Wan…
Anger slowly bled in to replace the sadness, filling the void left by the Living Force and Qui-Gon surged to his feet, towering over the woman, staring down at her with a single tormented question burning his mouth as he forced the words out.
"You took an innocent boy, stole from him everything he held dear, hurt and humiliated him, destroyed him," he could barely speak past the pain that closed his throat in grief, "… And you call that necessary?"
Marjhan's hateful eyes glared into him, but she straightened proudly, coldly.
"I did what I did, Master Jinn," she said airily, "and I make no apologies." Remembered lust stretched the corners of her blood-lipped smile farther. "We had a good time, Obi-Wan and I," she added pointedly, enjoying the way the Jedi's eyes widened as pained realization crashed through him. She'd never broken anyone with words before, and Marjhan was malevolently pleased by the agony that was rolling off of Jinn in abundant waves. He would have been a delightful challenge; not as delicious as her beautiful Obi-Wan, but sturdier, more thickly masculine…
"Stop it… " Qui-Gon whispered despairingly, anger winding through his voice, head bowed, shoulders curled in on himself, shrinking under her assault as his Padawan had done before him. "Please … just tell me where he is … "
Marjhan pushed a little farther, confident she was close to overwhelming the Jedi, knowing from much practice she was a very good judge of just how far to go…
oooooooooo
Well, I'm coming home on my backKissing me, your lips painted blackSaying oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ohLet me be your downfallOh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ohLet me be your downfall, baby…
oooooooooo
"He held out longer than most," she purred, twisting a long, polished finger into the limp tangles of the Jedi Master's chestnut hair. "and I had such wonderful plans for us this very evening." Marjhan smiled. "He learned so well, and he was," her voice dropped to a murmur, "very, very good with only a little persuasion… perhaps he learned from you?" The man before her shook under her touch now, muscles bunching and jumping.
"Please," he mumbled, "just tell me … " He backed away but her grip on his arm, though light, froze him where he stood. Marjhan waved a hand to encompass the dismal chamber, feral enjoyment at the Jedi Master's hitching breaths breathing its own life into her, making her feel almost as alive as she had when it had been Obi-Wan shuddering under her hands.
"He was so beautiful," she continued lazily, "so good, and pure," the sneer in her voice was so pronounced Qui-Gon felt his confused gaze alight on her lips, watching the terrible words as they formed, waiting excruciatingly for them to be spoken into the dim light. "Why anyone would sell that one … Well," she grinned cheekily, so close to him now that her nose almost bumped into his chest, staring up at him with curious innocence in her eyes. "I'm sure you had your reasons. Something better comes along and we do what we have to do."
Something like guilt flashed through his expression; he was so close to breaking it almost made up for all of her weeks of frustration with Obi-Wan. "I too had to choose," she assured him gently. "His most recent punishment was too harsh for him to bear and in the end I had to let him go."
"Stop… "
Coldly calculating, Marjhan drove in the final wedge, victory tantalizingly in her reach: "I'm only sorry there was so little of him left to sell – " She waved a hand airily. "Well, you can see for yourself … "
Jinn moved suddenly then, and Marjhan felt the rush of air that brushed past her. And then the Lady of the House registered an unusual sound she'd never heard before: a snap-hiss! and an accompanying hum that embraced her senses warmly: the last thing she would ever hear in this world before blinding pain flashed through her for a mere second as the emerald blade of a lightsaber pierced her chest before she could say another word.
OOOOOOOOOO
Kenobi was screaming.
It was a horrible to hear the raspy screeching clawing its way from his throat, the frantically shouted words 'no!' and 'Qui-Gon!' the only things Delian could make out amidst his tormented cries. The monitors that Delian had plugged him into were shrieking as Kenobi's levels jerked erratically and without hesitation she grabbed another shot of painkiller and slammed it into his arm, depressing the plunger and trying to gather his writhing body into her arms to keep him in place. Her nearness only increased his panicked agitation, and he struggled harder against her, pathetically weak in her loose grip.
"Kenobi!" she shouted over his desperate howls, "Obi-Wan! Damn it! Settle down, sweetheart!"
His open eyes were wide, greyed with pain and horror, Qui-Gon's name spilling repeatedly from his bloody lips while Delian murmured words of comfort as she prayed feverishly for the painkiller to kick in. He finally tiredly mumbled something unintelligible and his head slumped onto his chest, his labored breathing dwindling to the merest of sighs.
"Oh, Kest," Delian breathed, heart still thudding in her ears as adrenaline made her own limbs twitch. She pulled his shaking body tightly to her and stroked his scored back, crossed multiple times with thin red lines from a merciless lash, very, very lightly.
"It's okay, baby," she whispered, knowing she was lying to him but unsure what else to say. "It's okay."
OOOOOOOOOO