AN: So...this is one of those chapters that started one way and ran off with me in a totally different direction. And now the thought has run away with me, and it is filling gaps that I was having trouble filling. The payoff isn't in this chapter, but it will be soon. You guys are just going to have to trust me on this one, I promise it's going to be good.
Chapter 41: Visions
The bodies of a thousand Jedi lay scattered upon the ground, as far as Obi-Wan could see in any direction. From the infants to the elderly, he could feel their deaths in the Force as it screamed, the end of a legacy that had spanned thousands of years gone in a breath, and they did not go quietly. A wound had opened in the Force itself, and through the pain of its rending, Kenobi could feel...triumph. Satisfaction. The end of the corrupt Republic was replaced with Sith strength, and Obi-Wan saw its rise in the ripples of the Force. This was the will of the Force. And to Obi-Wan, it felt...hollow.
He frowned, the vision of the dead Jedi slowly beginning to burn, fade to something else, though he could not see what. The Jedi had an option to join the Sith, or die. There wasn't an alternative. There couldn't be one. The continued existence of the Jedi Order would mean the war would never end, and Obi-Wan desired the emergence of order, the expunging of the vile corruption that the Jedi have caused. For too long, the Jedi had served the whims of a corrupt Republic, putting the will of politicians and schemers before the will of the Force. That was why the Force had turned against the Jedi. That was why the Sith were on the rise. And that was why Kenobi had ultimately fell. The Force had willed it.
He wanted Mace Windu dead. He wanted Anakin Skywalker dead. He wanted Qui-Gon...well, he wasn't sure what he wanted out of Qui-Gon. His old Master needed to suffer for turning Satine against him, albeit temporarily, but after that...he wasn't sure. Many Jedi needed to die simply because they didn't have any use, weren't strong enough in the Force, weren't of any interest as simple toys for him to break. But the Masters were a different matter entirely. He could break them so throughly that there would be little left of their old selves by the time he had finished, and that was far, far more satisfying to Obi-Wan than simply killing them, as he had discovered after his spree in Grievous' lair.
In the short term, it was intoxicating, so much so that after he had returned Grievous to Serenno to face Dooku's wrath, he found himself speeding to Mandalore, where he could sate the howling, hungry Dark Side in reckless, furious passion with his royal lover. It wasn't until now, sunk deep within the Force and surrounded by visions of darkness and flames that Kenobi realized that he had lost control entirely. For a moment, he was a slave to the Dark Side, allowing it to consume him completely in his rage and his lust for death, which was not usually something he craved. Be it the influence of the ancient Sith Lords through his holocrons, or simply the strength of the Dark Side the chaos of war was producing, he didn't know, but for the first time in a long, long time, Obi-Wan remembered his Jedi training. He still had three Jedi holocrons at his disposal. Perhaps he'd see if he could use Master Koth to open them, though Kenobi wasn't confident in the Zabrak's ability to do so. The Jedi had been...not himself after Obi-Wan had drained the Force out of him. It had yet to be determined if the Force could be regenerated, but it seemed unlikely.
Sidious never lost control. Sidious controlled the Dark Side with absolute perfection, absolute mastery. If Kenobi was going to be the Dark Lord of the Sith, than he'd have to maintain that flawless focus as well. His greatly increasing powers must have been the cause of his bloodlust, and his own weakness prevented him from harnessing those powers to their full effect. This was just like when he was the Jedi that lay panting and moaning and lost to the feel of darkness on Talzin's alter on Dathomir. He was Sith. He was beyond this. Jedi execution was simply something that needed to be done. His pleasures would be taken elsewhere. Kenobi breathed deeply, sending his resolve into the Force, and the flames jumped, the bodies of the Jedi burning away into ash and embers.
He was on Mustafar, the lava bathing everything in deep red light and casting dark, sinister shadows that seemed to crawl along the floors and walls, and on the bank of the mighty lava river that flowed beneath his palace, Obi-Wan saw two beings, cloaked and strong in the Force, lightsabers clashing fiercely, one blue and one red, and Kenobi could recognize his own style in the combatant that wielded the red weapon. The other was far more aggressive, far more ferocious, far more angry, but the defensive Sith held strong, and in a flash of an instant, the fight was over, the blue saber hissing its deactivation as the Jedi fell to the ground, the thick robes catching fire on the burning banks, and the man began to scream. Like before, like so many times before, Kenobi saw the face in flames, unrecognizable and shifting and changing as the flames danced around it.
Obi-Wan gasped when he awoke, his entire body jolting and tensing with such violence that he tumbled from the bed to land hard upon the cold ground. For a minute, he just lay there, thinking about the face in flames, until he heard Satine groan from the bed above. Grunting, he sat himself up and grasped the delicate hand that draped over the side of the bed, kissing it quickly before sitting on his knees, his head resting on his folded arms on the bed and looking into the Duchess' face.
"Every single night, Obi-Wan."
"I do seem to have a talent for waking up violently."
"From nightmares. You know, the doctors can prescribe something to help you sleep better."
"I told you, they aren't nightmares, they're visions." Obi-Wan groaned as he pulled himself back into bed, gathering the Duchess in his arms and holding her close.
"Is it the same one you've been having?" she asked, nestling against his strong, scarred chest. "The one with the fire?"
"Mhmm..." He absently ran her hair through his fingers, eyes closed as he pictured the vision in his mind, but it quickly fled when those delicate fingers lightly stroked at his high, sharp hip bone. "I don't know if it's a vision of things to come, or a warning. It's hard to sort out."
"Can't it be both?"
"Of course." Kenobi sharply inhaled when the woman's nails lightly drew across the space between his hips, and he clutched her to him tighter. "Back to sleep, my love, I'm sorry for waking you."
"I was already awake," she purred, sliding her leg over his body to straddle his hips, her hands braced on his strong chest, and with a quick grin, Obi-Wan pushed himself up to sit, leaning back against the headboard, the woman's long, slender legs on either side of him and resting in his lap. If her intent was to take him within her again, he supposed he could rise to the occasion, but he felt the Dark Side to be sluggish and sated, having gorged itself on exquisite pleasure several time earlier that evening, and really, the need was met nearly as soon as the desire struck. Kenobi spent more nights on Mandalore than not as of late, as Sidious had sensed something changing within the Jedi and was determined to keep his beloved apprentice away from them until he had discovered exactly what it was. Instead, he sent Dooku out in an attempt to see if he could manipulate the Jedi's actions by putting the cause of the war away from Raxus, or his impenetrable fortress of Serenno. What was worse, the Chancellor couldn't pry from the Jedi exactly what it was they planned, claiming it to be simply the business of the Order that had no bearing on the state of the Republic. Palpatine knew better than to press, especially when it felt as though the Jedi had suddenly increased their awareness and honed their senses.
The Duchess leaned in and kissed at the tense muscles in Obi-Wan's neck, not out of passion and desire, but out of love, and the man relaxed, his hand resting on her pale thigh. At least for now, it seemed that the Duchess was sated as well. "Are all your dreams visions?" she asked, and Kenobi nodded. "Do you have them every night?"
"As of late, they have increased, yes..." He shifted his weight to bend his knees, allowing the woman to lean back on them, and he looked over her cautiously, reaching out with the Force to feel her intentions. While he did appreciate her interest and her desire to involve herself in the intangible power that guided him, it was also something of a point of contention. Qui-Gon's meddling, as it happened, turned out not to meddling at all. The Jedi still had to be punished, of course, but Satine's opinions on the Sith and her lover's place with them were beasts of her own making. She saw the Sith as dangerous, not because Qui-Gon had told her so, but because of the scars upon his body. It was foolish sentiment, of course, but the Duchess' mind could not be changed. She wanted Obi-Wan safe, and if anything got in the way of that, she was expressly against it, so much so that she didn't object too much over the death of the four Jedi at Kenobi's hands. After all, they had attacked him, as far as she knew.
They had fought about that, as they fought daily about the war, about the Jedi, about the Sith, about his training. She was so against what he was being asked to do and endure that Kenobi had briefly toyed with the idea of entering her mind and making corrections, but he ultimately rejected the notion. If he wanted a pleasure slave, he'd take one. He liked Satine's fire, even when it was directed against him, and he didn't want to alter that. After all, he was Sith. He was drawn to passion, and through all their fights and violent disagreements, Satine was willing to sacrifice a great deal to remain by his side. Love, after all, was a powerful motivator.
"Can you control the visions?" she asked, and the Sith nodded.
"A bit. If I focus, I can direct them. They don't always go where I want them to, but they go to things I need to see."
"But can you make them happen?"
Kenobi considered this, closing his eyes and breathing deep, a hand lazily running down the length of the Duchess' body. "I can, yes. When I immerse myself in the Force, they come to me. And before you say anything," he drawled, feeling her emotions change from curious to indignant, "the Force takes me when I sleep. I cannot stop it. I won't stop it. If the Force wants me, who am I to deny it?"
"Can you do it now?" Kenobi opened his eyes and looked into hers, a small smile on his lips when he found her to be curious and...somewhat excited. There were times she envied his connection to the Force, and she often yearned to understand it better, which Kenobi was always happy to speak on. With a great deal of instruction, she had been trained to be able to feel changes in her body when Obi-Wan touched her with it, and it left her willing and eager to learn more and observe her lover when he used it.
"It would be difficult," he whispered. "It requires a meditative state, and you, my love, are a distraction."
Satine's lips drew together in something of a pout. "Can't I help? Can't you try?"
Obi-Wan sighed, interlocking his fingers with hers. Even without the Force, they were connected. It was possible to use that attachment, those feelings, to sharpen the image of his sight, at least in theory. After all, the Force favored passion and emotions deeply felt. "I can try." He kissed her swiftly before he settled back against the headboard, his golden eyes sliding out of fucus as he surrendered to the pull of the Force. "Do try to keep silent..."
If Satine offered an answer, Obi-Wan didn't hear it. He was surrounded by the dead Jedi once again, a vision that he had been plagued with since the murder of the Jedi on Vassek. Though the vision seemed clear, Obi-Wan knew better than to assume that the meaning was literal, as it often was not. Breathing deeply, he felt for his connection with the Duchess, found it warm and comforting and loving, and he took it within him, the Force rippling as the vision sharpened, and Kenobi could see two figures in the distance. Squinting, he ran through the field of dead bodies, blood splashing his legs with each step, though he saw no blood upon the ground. The harder he ran, the further the figures seemed to drift away, and he slowed, standing among the bodies once again, and the figures refocused. Instead, he drew on the Force, drew on the physical and Forceful connection of the woman he loved, and they sharpened.
They were still too far to see clearly, but he saw a Togruta female, two white lightsabers in her hands, and the other was a young male, a Jedi Padawan, from the looks of it, clutching a blue lightsaber that quickly flicked off, the boy twisting the hilt and it divided in two pieces that he swiftly hid. He tried to see deeper, ask the Force for clarification and understanding, but there was none to be had. The vision broke apart, fading as a wind blew away the images like dust.
The image faded from the dark, dismal field to a scene that was so bright, Obi-Wan had to shield his eyes. Blazing suns made the grainy sand brighter than it had any right to be, and squinting against the blinding light, Kenobi could see a hooded, kneeling figure in a black cloak and a small blond child sitting cross-legged before him. He carefully drew closer, his heart racing when the figures didn't drift away from him, and Obi-Wan ran, feet sinking into the sand as he drew closer. Not ten feet from the pair, the Force stopped his movements, not physically, but with a sharp warning that tugged at his mind, commanding him to go no further. For a moment, anger began to well up inside him, the Sith's curious mind seeking knowledge and clarity within his visions, and nobody had the right to command him. Just as soon as he had felt it, the wrath was gone. As he had always done, Obi-Wan would obey the Force.
The child, a boy, was smiling brightly, laughing in delight as the hooded figure drew something from his cloak and held them out in his hands, upon one palm sat a blue cube, and on the other, a red pyramid. Slowly, the objects rose, compelled by the Force, spinning slowly in the air, and the boy looked on intently, his blue eyes wide with wonder. Obi-Wan could feel his heart beat faster. He didn't know this child, but he knew the man to be himself. Could the child be his? He had his complexion, his sandy blond hair, eyes that were a similar shade of blue to what his own had been once, a similar shade to Satine's now...
The image began to fade, and with a frantic cry, Kenobi looked around for sight of the boy's mother, but saw nobody. Breathing deep, he grabbed hold of his connection with Satine and focused on her, trying to direct the Force and the visions in the way he wanted them to go. For a moment, the sandy planet stayed, the images rippling as if a wind blew across the surface of a pond. And then, there were flames. Burning all around him, they grew larger and larger until they consumed the Sith Lord, and from the dancing red inferno, a horned, black and red face formed out of fire and smoke, a cold, cruel laugh tearing through the fabric of the Force itself as the face of Darth Maul appeared before him. For a moment, Kenobi couldn't breathe. He needed to know what it meant, needed to learn all he could, and he threw himself deeper into the Force. He pressed forward until all else faded away, until the feeling of Satine holding him melted away, just one of the millions of lives on Mandalore. Kenobi even felt himself waver, his own substantial presence in the Force beginning to fade into the enormity of it all.
The sharp cry of his name pulled him out of the trance, reality snapping back into focus and hitting him with cold, dry air and wide, blue eyes, and he shivered, drawing the woman close to him for warmth. Satine was shaking. He had pressed too hard, gone too far. "I'm sorry..." he whispered in her ear.
"I thought you were gone," Satine said, her voice trembling and afraid, and she clung to her lover as if he may fade away if she didn't hold on tightly. "Your eyes were open, but you saw nothing, and you were shaking at the end..." She took a deep breath and kissed at his neck. "I thought something had happened."
"It did..."
"What did you see?"
Kenobi gently moved her to lay back against his legs again, his long fingers stroking her cheek. "Nothing that made sense. Not yet. I'll have to meditate on it, my Master may have answers..." The concern immediately left Satine's face and was replaced by something cold and confrontational, and Kenobi felt his chest tighten. He and Satine had been dancing around this very subject since he had fixed what she remembered about her conversation with Qui-Gon. The Jedi's words may have been different, but her feelings were not. The subject was bound to come up on its own. Qui-Gon had simply sped up the process, but now...
"Obi-Wan..." she started, cautiously, carefully, but determined. "I want you to leave the Sith."
"I know..."
She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, her eyes wide, searching, and Obi-Wan could feel her tense, searching her memory for something that she felt should be there, but wasn't. His Satine was smart, strong, and far too intelligent to be swayed for long. Especially not when he hadn't done anything to enforce the deception, and as he felt her swift mind begin to shake off the haze that surrounded her altered memory, Kenobi felt panic grip him. This wouldn't go well, and he couldn't blame the Jedi for it. This mess was of his own making.
"...how could you know that?" Satine asked slowly, her blue eyes searching his for meaning, but she couldn't discern what it was that blazed within him. He didn't answer. Satine bit her lip and looked away, breathing deeply for a minute then slowly said, "We've had this conversation. I...I-I promised Qui-Gon I'd talk to you about this."
The strong muscles of his chest tensed under her delicate hands at the mention of his old Master, and those golden eyes darted away in what the Duchess instantly recognized as guilt. She grabbed his bearded chin and forced him to look at her. "Obi-Wan..." Satine whispered. "What have you done?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The memory came back to her, clear as if it had happened yesterday, but there were two accounts of what had occured, two conversations with Qui-Gon Jinn that overlapped, two meetings with Obi-Wan, one an argument, and one much more gentle. And between it all, she remembered her gentle lover, his golden eyes on fire with rage and violence, his hands in her hair and the Force in her mind as he altered the memory.
Her chest tight and unshed tears in her eyes, she struck him, certainly not the first time she had done so, but certainly the hardest, and once wasn't enough. By the time she was done, she was taking shallow, shaking breaths, tears streaking her cheeks, and there was blood on her hand. She looked at her lover, the Sith expressionless and still, his lip split in two places and a long, bleeding cut on his cheek. "Qui-Gon was right about you," Satine growled in her native Mando'a, her voice low and menacing. There were no words in Basic strong enough for this particular conversation. The Sith didn't look at her, and the conversation continued in the Duchess' native tongue.
"Yes," he returned softly. She struck him again, and droplets of blood flecked her skin. The Sith hardly registered that he had been hit.
"He called you a dangerous killer and I defended you! I saw it in your eyes, Obi-Wan, there's darkness there!" The Sith said nothing, and she roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her again. "There was violence and murder there, I saw it!"
"...I know..." he whispered, looking away again.
"Is that all you can say?!" Satine's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, and she could understand her ancestor's violent natures. She felt...violated. "I trusted you, Obi-Wan! You changed my memory for something so simple?!"
"The Jedi were trying to use you against me, Satine, they-" She struck him again, and this time, he whimpered as he felt fresh blood pool in his mouth. The pain he could handle, but the wrath of Satine, her face beyond furious as silent tears ran down her face was far too much.
"Qui-Gon was worried about you, and rightfully so! How could you return concern with...this?! There aren't even words for what you have done!" The Sith Lord didn't answer. "...I can't trust you. Not after this, not ever again. Not when you can just...go into my mind and change anything you see fit!"
"No, Satine, I can't," Kenobi began softly, yellow eyes fixed on her and pleading.
"Yes you can! You are a mind manipulator, even you have said you can reach into someone's mind and control people! How often have you done this to me?!"
"Just that once!" he said desperately, grasping at her hand, but she ripped it away from him, disgust on her fine featured face. "Satine, I could, but I can't, not without you knowing, you can feel me when I'm in your mind, you'd know I was doing it! I can't just-"
"But you can!"
"I-I...can, yes..."
She laughed bitterly. "Without trust, there can be no love." She didn't see him move, but in the next moment, Kenobi's strong hands were wrapped tightly around her thin arms, the golden eyes blazing with fury and possession, his face twitching as he seemed to struggle. Satine's anger was instantly forgotten as fear gripped her.
"And I can fix this too," he growled, pulling her closer, blood dripping from his cheek and mouth into his beard and off his chin to stain his chest. "It would be so easy to do it. I took care before not to damage you, but that seems to have been a mistake." He laughed brightly when the woman trembled, the golden eyes blazing with the power that he possessed inside him. "You will love me, Satine, you have to. I will not lose this, not now, not after all I have done to get to be with you."
Satine trembled, reached up a hand to touch the bleeding cheek, and the Sith's pupils narrowed, seeming to look somewhere far, far away, the blazing gold mere pinpoints as his body tensed, the man groaning as if he was in pain."Obi-Wan, please..."
With a growl, the Sith Lord released her, and the Duchess scrambled away from him, grabbing his tunic that lay upon the floor and wrapping it around her lithe form as she cautiously watched him curl up on the bed, body shaking and strong muscles convulsing. Slowly, Satine approached him, but stopped suddenly in her tracks when she felt his presence within her mind, and she withdrew immediately, fury overtaking her. Immediately, Satine felt his presence withdraw, and the man whimpered pitifully, as if he were injured. Taking a deep breath, she found her courage and approached him again, walking slowly around the bed so she could kneel beside him and look into his face.
His golden eyes were closed, his jaw clenched tightly, his breath ragged with effort, and she cautiously laid a hand on his. Hissing, Kenobi swiftly withdrew it, his eyes flying open, and Satine gasped when she found the beautiful, blazing gold iris rimmed with red. "Obi-Wan..."
"You need to get away from me..." he whispered, voice tight with pain and a small smile on his lips. "I can't control this..."
She didn't pause for a second before the Duchess asked, "What can I do?"
"Nothing."
"You are struggling, Obi-Wan. I didn't see it before. Maybe it wasn't there before, but now, you need help." Kenobi bit his already bleeding lip so hard that new cuts began seeping blood, and he nodded, swallowing hard. "Will you control me?"
Whimpering, he shook his head. "I won't...not again, not ever again..."
Satine crawled back into the bed, the Sith Lord gasping as he wriggled away from her, but she grabbed his hand. "Let me help." She felt it again, the warm presence of him in her mind, and she tensed immediately, and with a pained whimper from the man beside her, it was gone. The Duchess looked at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion and rising anger, but softened immediately as she watched him violently struggle for control with an invisible presence. She had always thought the Force to be gentle and kind, but now she saw a different side of it, something that was darker than the binding, unifying presence that the Jedi spoke of. This presence was violent, powerful, and her lover was struggling with it.
She touched him again, drawing him closer to her, and his shaking hand tightly gripped at the silken tunic she wore. "I trust you, Obi-Wan..." she whispered. "Try again..." Satine felt it again, the snaking shadow of his presence in her mind, and she closed her eyes, accepting it, her body flushing and warming under the cautious, uncertain hand of the Force. It slowly closed around her, clinging and desperate, and slowly, Obi-Wan's breath began to slow, his body relaxing as the tight muscles convulsed at further, less intense intervals. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but when Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, the blood red that encircled his iris was gone, the gold bright and expressive and warm.
"Thank you..." he whispered, gently kissing her forehead, releasing her from his grasp and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly and beginning to redress. She didn't stop him.
"Where are you going?"
"Away from here," was the soft response, and he looked at her, a gentle smile on his lips. "Away from you. I can't stay here, not after this, not if I put you in danger..."
"Will you go see the Jedi?" the Duchess asked, and she watched her lover tense. "You need help, they can help you."
"No they can't, not with this. I'm going to see my Master."
"I can help you, Obi-Wan, please. Don't go back to him." The Sith didn't move. Satine took a deep breath. "I want you to leave the Sith."
"I can't leave the Sith," Kenobi said softly, turning his gold eyes to his crestfallen lover. "But..." Satine perked up. Last time, in a conversation she only barely remembered, there had been no hesitation, no question on his place in the Sith. Not even her pleading, her begging, her imploring the man to stay and make a family with her had swayed him. Something was different. Something had changed. "But I can do something about my Master."
She didn't say anything, and Kenobi took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair and turned to look at her, a confident smile on his face. "I'm becoming stronger, and I've been struggling to control it. But when I achieve control, when I can summon the Force with no fear of succumbing to it..." He strode to kneel before her, taking her hands in his own.
"Is that what happened tonight?" Satine asked, smiling when the Sith brought her fingers to his bloody lips.
"Yes...it's difficult to resist the call of the Dark Side, especially when it's pulling at me with the power that it seems to have so recently obtained."
She nodded, breathing deeply. "I understand...I think." Obi-Wan chuckled softly, and her hands tightened around the Sith's. "My trust in you is broken, Obi-Wan."
"...I know," he whispered, closing his golden eyes. "I want to fix it. Will you let me?" She was silent for a long time, slowly mulling the question over in her mind, and Kenobi felt apprehension and nerves build up inside him. Finally, she nodded.
"Yes. I want you to, I love you, and I don't want to lose that." She gently stroked the cut on his cheek that she had unintentionally put there. "But I want you away from this Master of yours. He hurts you. That has always been my concern."
"I'll do you one better," Kenobi drawled dangerously. "I'm going to kill him. When he's dead, and I'm Lord of the Sith..." Golden eyes fell on Satine, and he planted a kiss on her bare thigh. "It will be just you and me, Satine. We can rule together, we'll have a family..."
"I want that," the Duchess said quickly, much quicker than intended, and she felt breathless, her anger nearly completely forgotten for a moment. "That's all I've ever wanted."
"Me too. I saw it in the Force, this was meant to be." He smiled warmly, his heart beating faster when he felt her desire. "It seems like I'll be out of the war for a while. I'll stay here so I can fix this, anything you want, I'll do, you just say the word, my love..." She moaned softly when he kissed at her thighs, and the lovers were quickly interrupted by Kenobi's comlink. With a growl, he snatched the device and looked at the call, his eyes widening. "Speak of the Sith Lord himself..." he drawled, activating the com, the holoprojector angled away from Satine, his finger to his lips to signal the need for her silence. He answered the com, and the image of Darth Sidious appeared before him, and he bowed his head. "My Master..."
"Lumis, I need you to depart immediately for Florrum," Sidious growled swiftly, his voice tight with anger and...panic? Kenobi reached out to his Master, and did, in fact, find the man on the edge of complete hysteria.
"Florrum?" Kenobi responded, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "There's nothing on Florrum but pirates, Master, the war won't even touch that waste."
"I know," Sidious snarled, his distaste projected through the Force. "Tyranus is a poor substitute for you, my apprentice, but without him, this war is lost and it is all for nothing."
Kenobi's eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he asked, "What happened to Tyranus?"
The Sith Lord's rage could be felt, his thin lips set in a deep frown. "Tyranus has been captured," Sidious snarled, leaning in close to the holoprojector, so the image zoomed menacingly on his shadowed, displeased face. "By pirates."
In his wrath, Sidious cut the com when Darth Lumis couldn't stop laughing.