Chapter 91: Vos
Quinlan Vos was bored. True, the day had just started for him, but he was already feeling the restlessness of boredom settle in, like it always used to when he returned to the Jedi Temple after a long mission. He never wanted to go back, even though when he did arrive, he always felt at home. The Temple had been home, yes, but after returning, it only took a few days at most for him to want to be out once again. In the Temple, he had hundreds of brothers and sisters, many of which he still loved deeply, many of who had been senselessly killed in the war, many who would still yet die as the war continued, as he knew it would. He narrowed his eyes, stained yellow and red with anger and hatred born from the Dark Side, born from betrayal, and he glared at Count Dooku, the man he had sworn to kill. His fist tightened around the knife in his right hand.
"Don't even think about it, Vos," Dooku drawled lazily, not looking up from the datapad he had propped up next to his place at the head of the table, a fork poised in his hand with a chunk of rich gold fruit speared on to the end. Quinlan glowered, snatched a freshly baked roll from the serving dish nearest him, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly, bitterly as he did, in fact, think about it. The flaky, buttery crust of the bread melted his anger away into a satisfied compliance.
His life in the Jedi Temple, life with a hundred brothers and sisters, life as a Jedi Master, was over. He had a new life now. A richer one, a life of luxury and opulence, a life where overindulgence in drink and women was not only allowed, but accepted. A life dedicated to hedonistic pleasure, consistent and unrelenting, in an attempt to drown out the pain and hatred and anger of bitterness and betrayal. A life motivated by revenge, satisfied only by thoughts of blood and murder, which had been hard at first, but now was so very, very easy. Helping Kenobi execute the savages that murdered Satine was making him strong, and with strength came a ruthlessness that he hadn't known as a Jedi.
His first day as a Sith, or prospective Sith, he supposed, he was taken back to Obi-Wan's home, his palace, a grand estate truly befitting a man that was called Lord, imposing, intimidating, elegant and beautiful on fiery Mustafar, so much like the man it belonged to. They hadn't talked much on the way there. His Sith Master had spent the time in deep meditation, and Quinlan watched fascinated as his friend's body was wracked with convulsions and spasms and muttering under his breath in a language Quinlan didn't understand. He could feel the Force whipping around him, all fire and heat and rage, pulsing in time with Kenobi's heart, ebbing and flowing with each breath the Sith Lord took, and it was magnificent. Quinlan understood then whet Kenobi had been saying for so long. The Force and he were one, and the Force was stained with darkness.
They didn't talk much when they reached the palace either, but that was mostly Quinlan's fault, though he suspected that the Sith Lord would rather not have spoken at all. He hadn't been speaking anyway, didn't respond to his name, and recognition only barely registered on his face when Quinlan had called him Lord or Master or Lumis, as Dooku had done. It didn't matter anyway, because when they entered the majestic halls of the Palace of Mustafar, Quinlan was met by women. Hundreds of them. His mouth agape, he silently followed the Sith Lord through them all, his clone Cody explaining where they came from, how they were captured, how they willingly served the needs of anyone worthy of them. Twi'leks from Ryloth, Togrutas given in tribute to the Sith by the slavers of Zygerria, dark skinned, Force sensitive Korun from Haruun Kal, Nautolans captured from Glee Anselm, and he even spotted a few long-necked Kaminoans in the group, among several other species, some which he recognized, others which he did not, but they were all appealing, all beautiful, and all scantily clad. When he spotted a small group of the females servicing a large, brutal-looking Twi'lek male, he asked his leave of his friend and immediately set to having his fill of whatever he wanted. It so happened that simply being in the presence of the Lord of the Sith was enough to incite the lusts of the woman.
Within moments, he found himself surrounded by a green-skinned Mirialan, a red-skinned Zeltron, a royal blue Twi'lek, and the rest of his evening continued in a mindless haze as he met his pleasure with one woman after the other. Once, he had to fight off one of the monestrous male Twi'leks, the savage creature growling and cursing when Quinlan had reached out to stroke the lekku of a slight Togruta he was with, and Vos harnessed the Dark Side with such force, such rage that the other male was left cowering, scampering off shaking and frightened when the Kiffar established his dominion. It didn't take long for the women servicing him and serving him drink after drink to get him titanically drunk off the rich, fine liquor and the thick, heavy lust that rushed through him. It was almost enough for him to forget the Padawan he had left behind, the beautiful lover he had treasured so dearly, and the betrayal he had suffered at her murderous hands. Almost. But not quite.
He didn't see Kenobi long the next day either. Just long enough for the Sith Lord to tell him what was required of his apprentice while he was off on Coruscant ruining lives. Quinlan didn't argue. After all, the grief, the obvious hunger, the weariness, the obvious insanity was all clear to see in Obi-Wan, and Vos had already committed himself to his brother, his friend, and now, his Sith Master. He could help him. They could help each other. Together, they would seek revenge on those that wronged them. All of them. They shared enemies, one goal, one vision, and together, they would bring peace to their consumed minds. The madness would ease with each death, each execution, each murder, until it was nothing at all. Death would heal them. Revenge would save them. Quinlan knew this to be the truth.
And so he eagerly followed Cody, the two of them equipping Mandalorian armor and making the trip to meet with Bo-Katan on Concord Dawn, where her army was marshaling its strength in preparation for the impending attack on Oba Diah. Quinlan was sent to stand in for Kenobi, the agent of his revenge upon the Pykes, and Vos wouldn't fail him, not in this. This wasn't just his first mission as apprentice to the Sith Lord, but this was his promise to his friend, his brother in betrayal and loss. The Pykes needed to die. All of them, and if burning the planet was what it would take to accomplish it, than Quinlan would strike the match and watch it burn.
It didn't come to that, but it would have, the firebombing of the Pyke Headquarters well underway when the Jedi showed up, not to stop the Mandalorians, but under the banner of protecting the innocent of the city while Bo-Katan destroyed the criminal syndicate. The move was both clever and infuriating, and with Kenobi's insistence that the Mandalorians not wake the wrath of the Republic, they were forced to stop setting fire to the planet, and bring the might of their army to the ground. With the destruction of the space ports, there was no hope for escape, and in the off chance that a ship did manage to leave the ground, the fleet surrounding the planet was ready to destroy them. They would all be destroyed. All of them.
With the Mandalorian helmet secured over his head, Quinlan was only distinguishable by the lightsaber he held, not his own, which had been lost on Raxus, but his Master Tholm's, the blade in his hand heavy with the weight of the betrayal he felt, the painful history of the saber only fueling his rage, his hate, his power as he cut through the Pykes that fought. It was war, like any other, and Quinlan had shown that he excelled at war. As the battle raged, as it became more and more obvious that everyone was going to die, the criminals began trying to surrender, beg for mercy, but there was none left in the fallen Jedi. These were the scum that waylaid Mandalore and killed Satine and her child. They all deserved to die. Slowly, the kills in battle became executions as the enemy dropped their weapons in surrender, and the executions became murders when they had stormed the buildings and houses and rooted out the families, the woman, the children that huddled afraid inside. Each kill had been easier than the last, each execution fueling his hate, the death and the blood and the screams making his body rush with the power, the triumph of the Dark Side, and by the time he entered the city, Vos didn't think twice about the murders he committed. They were guilty, like all the rest of them, or they wouldn't inhabit this crime-infested world.
When Bo-Katan had called, Vos went running to her, and she had declared his task complete. The Mandalorians would handle the rest, and he and Cody were to return to Serenno on orders of the Sith. The command was quickly obeyed, and the two were off to Serenno to wait for Obi-Wan. The night of their return found both fallen Jedi and traitor clone drinking heavily and sharing war stories and, much to Dooku's dismay, sinking themselves deep inside two servant girls that staffed Serenno's palace.
Which is where he woke up, groggy and hung over and close to noon with a nervous woman in his bed, anxious because she was late to report in to her duties, and the Count was strict. He had grabbed her and dragged her down, expending himself inside her once more as he used the Force to clear the alcohol out of his system, and when he was done, he slid out of bed, dressed, and went to see if there was food anywhere.
There was, and quite a lot of it, all spread out on the long dining table as it had been the day he first arrived. The day he fell. The day Obi-Wan showed him the truth. He had realized, upon reflection, that it was the same room, nearly the same place where Obi-Wan had once knelt before the Lord of the Sith and pledged himself to the Dark Side so many years ago. Only unlike the day he knelt before Kenobi, today, there were others in the room, all seated at the table and eating the rich spread with varrying levels of enthusiasm. Pong Krell had his plate stacked high with an assortment of breads and meats, two of his four arms reaching out to grab more while the others shoveled food into his mouth, the large creature obviously famished, and Quinlan wondered if he had been deprived for his failure of killing Ventress. Vos was secretly happy that he had failed. He wanted to kill darling Asajj himself.
But most interesting, the thing that held the promise of making the day not boring, was the presence of Barriss Offee, Luminara's fallen Padawan. She was seated as far away from the others as she could be, two seats over from the head of the table that remained vacant, with only Cody nearby, the lone member of the group that didn't have the ability to feel the Force separating himself from the Sith. Barriss had glanced up at him once when he had entered the room, but quickly averted her eyes, and since Quinlan had plunked down in the seat opposite her, she hadn't looked up again, and she hadn't said a word. Vos tapped the knife in his hand against the plate in a swift, unbroken rhythm. He was bored.
"So," the Kiffar said loudly when the sound of Krell's enthusiastic eating became too much for him, "what's the plan?"
"Eat, Vos," was all Dooku said. Nobody else responded. He looked around the table at the clone, the Mirialan, the Besalisk, the Count, and sighed, not in irritation, but contentment. He had exchanged his Jedi family for this. The clone, a traitor to the Republic, a man shown freedom when before there was none. Krell, the Jedi Master that had fallen on Umbara and joined the Sith to serve as Dooku's apprentice. Barriss, the promising young Padawan of Luminara Unduli, so disillusioned with the war that she believed the Jedi to be evil, so sickened with the Order that she had killed six Jedi Knights in a vicious attack on the Temple. Dooku, the man that led the galaxy into war to further the plans of the Sith, whatever that may be. And Obi-Wan, absent now, but never far from his thoughts, his old friend driven to the arms of the Dark Side by the Jedi themselves, driven to victory by the grace of the Sith, and driven to madness by the loss of his lover and his son. Vos smiled. It was a family, much smaller than the Jedi, but much closer, each and every one of them once Jedi that had fallen from the light to embrace the dark. Their pain was shared and well understood, and in that suffering, Vos felt they could be united.
"Barriss," Quinlan drawled, leaning in toward the girl, who tensed and looked away. "Do you realize that, except for the actual Sith Lords, you've killed more Jedi than any of us?"
Krell stopped eating and looked up from his plate, yellow eyes narrowed and observing both the Kiffar and the Mirialan. Even Dooku looked up, a sneer upon his lips. "Pathetic," the Count growled, shooting a glare at his apprentice, and Krell visibly shrank. Barriss did as well, slinking down further in her seat and a deep green flush coming to her face, so dark that the line of small, diamond shaped tattoos across the bridge of her nose nearly could not be seen. Vos rolled his eyes. Kenobi would have been impressed.
"Hey, is Barriss the reason that Obi-Wan left for Coruscant?" Vos asked loudly, raising his voice to be heard over the distance to the other end of the table, and Dooku visibly winced in irritation, looking up from his work once again.
"Is that any business of yours?" Dooku droned, his gaze returning to his work.
"Um...I feel like the correct answer to that question is yes." The Kiffar grinned broadly when the Count shot him a vicious glare, but did nothing else. He was under Kenobi's protection, Dooku had even said so, and dear Obi-Wan was so terribly insane that Dooku seemed reluctant to mess with him. At all. Being property wasn't terribly bad, so long as his owner was the delightfully mad Kenobi, and given that he now lived with Sith Lords, the protection was welcome.
Not that he needed it.
"I don't know when Lumis is scheduled to return," Dooku muttered. "I doubt he knows when he will return, and if your boredom continues to be this irritating, I may have to explain to him how you managed to disappear." A cruel smirk passed over the Count's lips, and Quinlan found the blood suddenly rushing out of his face. Dooku was serous. "Shall we take bets? I don't think he'd even notice you're gone..."
The desire to talk to the Count suddenly rapidly diminished. He leaned over to Cody, the clone eying him and leaning away. "Is the Count always this boring?" the Kiffar asked, and Cody snorted and returned to his food.
"Can't say, sir. I don't spend much time here."
"Well, do you know when Kenobi's coming back?"
A lazy smile spread over the clone's face, his dark eyes flashing with mischief. "You sound like a lovesick puppy, Vos."
"Oh, I am!" the Kiffar drawled lazily, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and reached out with the Force to begin putting roll after delicious roll on his plate. "We've been separated for so long, but I knew we'd always find each other again!"
Cody chuckled, and Quinlan could see the Mirialan that sat across from him sinking further down into her seat. "Love that transcends time and space...and moral compunctions, hmm?" The Clone smirked. "Well, couples that slay together, stay together, I suppose." He shrugged and took a long drink from the mug next to him, and Quinlan leaned over to try and see what it was, but with no success. "Of course, I'm with him all the time."
Vos' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you saying you replaced me, clone?" Cody didn't answer. He just shoveled another piece of steak into his mouth, and Dooku groaned loudly.
"Are you quite finished, you imbeciles?" He was met only with a wide grin from the Kiffar and a thumbs up from the clone as he took another long drink from the glass. Vos could feel the Sith's tension mounting. "If this is what your boredom has wrought, I will give you something to do."
"I can give him something to do, Master," Krell growled, his deep voice amused and predatorily eying the Kiffar, who sharkishly grinned back, but a swift glare from the Sith Lord cowed the Besalisk.
"You, my apprentice, have a long day of suffering ahead of you. Your failure to kill Asajj Ventress is most unbecoming, and it's my understanding that Vos beat you on Raxus."
"He had help, Master," Krell said meekly, and the sudden, violent spasm that wracked his body showed just how displeased the Sith was. He gasped in pain, his large hands gripping the table so hard the wood groaned in protest, threatening to splinter under the powerful grip.
"Excuses," the Count hissed, his grasp on the Besalisk tightening, causing the thick muscles to strain with effort. "My apprentice should have no trouble in dispatching a Jedi Master and an upstart Padawan, not to say anything of the failed apprentice that you let escape." The Mirialan across Vos began to whimper in pain, her hands clutched to her head as the Dark Side began to thrash with fury as the Sith's rage grew. Even Quinlan began to shake, biting his lip to keep from uttering any vocalization of the searing pain he felt coursing through his blood. Cody leaned back and casually sipped from his cup, a faint smile on his lips. The clone was unaffected. Vos decided that he hated Kenobi's commander.
Dooku leaned back, disgust and hate on his patrician face, and Vos thought he saw the deep, brown eyes flash pale yellow for a fraction of a second. "Perhaps Lumis' apprentice will have more luck in murdering Ventress than you did."
"I will," Vos snarled, the pain that Dooku inflicted upon him and the mere thought of Ventress spiking his rage, and he could feel the pull of the Dark Side upon him, powerful and consuming and filling his mind with images of him wrapping his hands around Ventress' pale, slender neck and watching with glee as he choked the life out of her. He could do it. He would do it. The pained whimpers of Barriss slowly drew his attention, and with it, his wrath. This girl had tried to frame Ahsoka for her crimes, had almost dragged his beloved Padawan down with her, had almost gotten her expelled from the Order. True, she had nearly done the same thing with Ventress, and that angered him now as well. She was treacherous, despite her small stature, her meek demeanor, and Vos knew that deep inside her lurked a viciousness that he couldn't see, but understood all the same. She needed to die. Now. For Ahsoka...
"Unwise, Vos..." Dooku warned, sensing the Kiffar's murderous intentions, and the gentle reprimand, the swift tug of the Force, had snapped Vos out of his wrathful focus, and his rage abated. He looked across at Barriss, the girl's head bowed and seemingly none the wiser, but he caught a swift, sudden flash of something dark and vicious within the girl, a sinister gleam in her eyes as she peered up at him from her downcast gaze. It was barely perceptible, but she was staring at him. Quinlan felt his heart pounding in his chest with excitement. Perhaps there was a good reason that Kenobi brought her here.
"One would think you wouldn't be as board as you are..." Dooku drawled. "You've spent days on Oba Diah engaging in the slaughter of billions. You only just returned last night."
"Yes, right, new day and all," Vos said, taking a bite out of one of the many rolls upon his plate. "The scum haven't been eradicated, Satine hasn't been avenged, Ventress is still alive..." He smirked. "So much work to do."
"And you will have to wait for Lumis to return." The Count leaned back in his seat and dragged his finger over the datapad. "I know nothing of his plans with Bo-Katan. Hopefully he won't burn the entire galaxy in his quest for revenge." Vos groaned and his head hit the table. "With how you have been carrying on with my servants, one would think you could find lots to occupy your time with."
Cody snickered. "Not that much time, Count. Vos finishes quickly."
"You are a liar," Vos snarled. "And a clone, and nobody trusts a clone!" Cody just shrugged and returned to his food. He cared nothing for the opinions of the Dark Siders at the table.
"At the very least," Dooku said, his eyes fixed on his datapad, "you could train with Krell. You need the practice, and he needs a beating. No matter what it is you choose to occupy yourself with, just keep out of my way. The war doesn't run itself."
Whatever it was that Vos was going to respond with caught in his throat when the grand doors open, and Obi-Wan strode through, taking long, even strides toward the table. Everyone seated, save for Dooku, scrambled to their feet, and when Krell knelt upon the ground, Vos and Luminara did the same. Kenobi didn't seem to notice. He simply strode to the table, pulled out the chair at the head, and sat, his gold eyes running over the spread before him and finally looking toward Dooku as the Count poured himself another glass of wine.
"Rise," Kenobi said softly, his long fingers drumming on the table, and the three Force sensitives stood, cautiously seating themselves and looking at Obi-Wan with a fair bit of apprehension. Cody filled a glass for the Sith, placed it before him, and sat by his side. There was silence, tense and overbearing for a moment before Dooku cleared his throat.
"Was your mission a success?"
"...that has yet to be seen."
"Surely you must have a feeling of how it went," Dooku asked, slight irritation slipping into his voice, but the other Sith shrugged.
"I do, but I don't know if my feelings can be trusted."
Dooku frowned. "Why."
"My judgement is...compromised." And so it continued, back and forth, the others at the table looking between the two heads of the table as each spoke as if they were watching a particularly engaging game of Shockball. Both Lords were becoming increasingly frustrated with the other, Dooku with Kenobi's half answers, and Obi-Wan with the Count's almost fatherly prying. As tensions rose, so did the Dark Side, and the others slunk down in their chairs, picking at food with forks and fingers that they dare not eat, lest the movement incur the wrath of one of the Sith.
"How was our Master?" Dooku said, almost snapped, attempting to change the subject away from Lumis in hopes of getting another result, but no such luck was had. Kenobi shrugged again.
"Fine, I suppose."
"Fine," Dooku scoffed. "He is never fine, was he pleased with you? Angry? You burned a planet, he must have felt something about it."
"I can't say, I have no insight into our Master's feelings."
"You are," Dooku growled between clenched teeth, "an insufferable wretch!" Something broke within Kenobi, a violent snap of the Force that lashed against the occupants of the room, not just searing them with pain, but draining the very power from them. The calm, expressionless face of the Sith Lord broke into a wide, sinister grin, his pupils narrowing as gold and red seemed to swirl together like clouds in a storm, and slowly, slow, manic chuckling rose into crazed laughter as madness gripped him. Krell slowly pushed away from the table, Barriss raised her hands in the air in surrender, and Vos found that he could just stare in awe at the insanity that wove its way through the man he called brother.
"Everything is falling into place," Lumis said between fits of laughter, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. "Everything will be mine, everything..."
Dooku glared at Vos when the Kiffar whistled, leaned over and tried to look his friend in the face. Kenobi's golden eyes were wide, almost frantic, but he wasn't making eye contact. "Damn...what have you Sith done to him?"
"This wasn't us, this was Maul," Dooku said softly, hoping that the other Lord would be so lost within himself he could not hear, but they had no such luck. Furious eyes darted up and fixed on Dooku, the tight hands grasping his hair shaking uncontrollably as he begun to laugh maniacally, the Dark Side converging upon him as it overtook him completely. Dooku reached for his lightsaber when Lumis' body hitched forward, a hand shooting out to grab the edge of the table in a crushing grip, his eyes shut tight and his breath coming in shallow pants and gasps, his body trembling as he struggled for control, the Dark Side violently thrashing around him, its claws sunk deep and refusing to relinquish its hold.
And then it stopped. The tension in Kenobi's body released, his shaking muscled relaxing, and his breathing returned to a deep, even pace. The Force was calmed, smoothing out into an even pulse, slow and soothing. He looked across the table at Dooku, his eyes tired but clear, and said, "I'm hungry."
It took less than a second for Cody and Vos to begin piling food on to multiple plates for the Sith, everything from thick cut, juicy steaks, piles of ripe, cut fruit, steamed vegetables and an assortment of breads and pastries all found their way onto the plates sat before the Lord. He was picky at first, almost repulsed by the idea of eating, since it had been so very long since he last ate, but slowly, small nibbles became quick, ravenous bites as his body eased back into the mortal realm, almost visibly switching away from a physical dependence on the Force to sustain him. Vos could have sworn he could see the man's skin shedding its sickly pallor, brightening again with life, and while he knew his friend was far from healed, it was a start. Even Dooku looked relieved.
"The mission," Kenobi said between bites of the red, rare steak, "is progressing as planned. We should be ready to conclude the war within a year, if everything continues to line up for us. Which," he drawled, picking up his wine glass and draining the entire thing, and holding it out so Cody could refill it, "I suspect it will. I can feel it, which may not account for much." He smiled almost sheepishly, pointing to his temple with his finger. "It's broken. Correcting the damage...is not easy."
"It is a relief to see that you have tamed the Force to your will," Dooku said softly. "I was worried you may literally burn down everything we set out to accomplish."
Kenobi didn't answer for a moment, his gaze sliding out of focus and his eye twitching as his hand tightened around his knife. A moment later and it was over, a small smile on his lips. "I am beginning to regain control, yes..."
"Is the war really going to be over, Master Kenobi?" Barriss squeaked, and Obi-Wan turned to her and smiled brightly.
"It is, young one. And soon." His chest swelled with pride. "The Sith will bring order to the galaxy the likes of which have never been seen, a feat that cannot be accomplished by the Jedi and their...indifference."
"There are so many of them," she said softly, her voice trembling with fear. "And I...I-I don't belong here."
"You do belong here, Barriss," he said earnestly, reaching across and grasping her hand in his, and the Mirialan flushed deeply. "You are a Jedi killer. You know the truth of the Order, that the Jedi have lost their way. The Force has turned on them, and now looks favorably upon the Sith."
"You are Masters," she whispered, her hand shaking in his. "Master Krell, Master Dooku, Master Vos...I'm just a Padawan, and what's worse, I got caught. Why did you save me?"
"The Republic was going to execute you," Kenobi said softly, holding out his empty plate to Cody, who quickly stacked more food upon it. "It's a grave injustice, putting someone to death for exposing the truth about their failing democracy. I couldn't allow that." The smile dropped from his face and he quickly reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting her face side to side, observing the girl carefully as she gasped and struggled when she felt the Sith enter her mind. She tried to force him out, but it was futile, and with a choked sob, she closed her eyes and submitted to the violation. "Also, you are friends with Anakin Skywalker, and I need to know everything about him if I am to destroy him completely."
Kenobi withdrew from her mind, and the girl shuddered, gasping for breath as she was released. "I was wondering what you planned on doing with her, Lumis." Dooku droned, looking with disdain at the girl. "You cannot take more than one apprentice."
"The war will be ending soon, Tyranus. The more fallen Jedi we collect, the stronger we will be when we come to power." He pushed away from the table and grabbed a piece of fruit from his plate. "I'll take her with me to Mustafar when I return this evening. We'll have her fully embracing the Dark Side soon enough."
Dooku arched an eyebrow. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, and Kenobi smirked as he picked up his glass and drained the remainder of the wine.
"Soon, yes. I need to meet with Bo-Katan. The galaxy won't burn itself." He whistled as he turned to leave. "Come, apprentice," he said gently, walking toward the doors on the other side of the room, and Quinlan looked around to make certain that Kenobi wasn't addressing anyone else. He rose and took off after the Sith, easily falling into step with him as they passed through the doors and into the long hallway beyond.
They walked in silence for a time, and the Kiffar couldn't help but notice that it felt just like before. They had spent a year together. A year very close, where they grew to be close friends, attachments and all, Vos, because he just wasn't very good at abiding by that rule, and Kenobi, because his flirting with the Dark Side had left him more open to such things. Even after Obi-Wan died, after they thought he had died, Quinlan always felt his friend walking beside him, groaning at his lack of tact, reprimanding his foolish decisions, advising him away from his excesses, which never worked, of course, but it never worked when the real Kenobi had said them either. He was a constant companion made only stronger when the Jedi believed he had become one with the Force. But he wasn't. Well, he was, but not in the way they thought. Kenobi was Sith, and when Vos found out, something dark within him drew him to his old friend, even if that meant abandoning the Jedi. After all, he had blamed the Council for what had happened to Obi-Wan. Someone had to stand beside Kenobi. It may as well be him.
"I'm...glad," Kenobi whispered, breaking the silence, and Vos looked down at him and couldn't keep a grin off his face when he felt warmth and affection coming from the Sith Lord. "That you and I managed to find each other again."
He had so much to say. So much. It felt like there was a lifetime between them, like they were different and the same all at once, and Quinlan didn't know where to start, or even how to start. "Yes, me too," was all he managed to say, and he kicked himself for sounding like a tongue tied fool. Quinlan Vos was never at a loss for words.
"There isn't exactly friendship among the Sith," Kenobi continued softly, a slow, easy pace down the long halls, twisting and turning this way and that until Vos felt totally turned around. They looked like there were in the palace living quarters, but he couldn't be sure. "Dooku and I get along now, but before, my Master made us fight. We hated each other, because hate made us strong, and we needed to be strong to destroy the other." He scoffed. "Our Master would never allow that to pass, of course, but keeping us filled with murderous intent tempered us and made us more connected to the Dark Side."
"That sounds awful..." Vos said softly, looking down at his friend and watching emotions play across his face, hate and sadness and fondness and the hints of insanity all blending together at once. Kenobi shook his head.
"It was easy at the time. The Sith were my family, everything I ever wanted and more. It was harsh, yes, and cold, but desires and passions were embraced and accepted, not looked down upon and scorned like they were with the Jedi."
"I always found the Jedi to be warm and accepting," Vos said, and Kenobi laughed harshly.
"Until they aren't."
"...until they aren't," Quinlan nodded in agreement. "Their handling of you was an atrocity."
"It made it very easy to accept my new reality, and in time, I grew to have a tenuous association with Dooku. It was always confrontational, but we could work together, which is all my Master wanted." Obi-Wan laid a hand on a control console by a wall, and the door opened with a hiss, emptying out into a large, spacious antechamber with several open rooms branching off from it. The afternoon light filtered in from the wide windows, and Vos looked around, nodding in appreciation. He recognized the design and layout as the same as the bedroom he was given in the palace, though Kenobi's was a fair deal bigger than his own.
"I imagined your death a lot," Vos said softly, his eyes following Kenobi as he shrugged off his robes, folding them neatly and laying them on one of the side tables. "It...consumed me. For a time. You and I were very close, and the Council just...threw you away." The Kiffar's fist clenched as his anger awakened anew, bringing with it the poisonous touch of the Dark Side. "I hated the Jedi, and I blamed them for killing you. I stayed with them, of course, but...well, I did an awful lot of drinking."
"You've always done an awful lot of drinking," Kenobi said, a smirk on his face that Vos returned with a wolfish grin.
"Oh, baby, I had to! It lessens the pain of not having you!"
"Mm, I'm sure."
Vos smiled, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Mind you, I still had Luminara, and Qui-Gon and I grew very close after a while, but I never had a friend like you after that."
"Nor did I. I mean, I had Grievous, sort of. He's not what you'd consider friendly." Vos snorted in agreement. "And I had Ventress." At that, the Kiffar's face darkened, and Kenobi shivered when he felt the Dark Side rush like wind in the air. "I know," he said softly, hand extended to calm the Force, and it slowly complied to his will, and despite being robbed of power, Vos' yellow eyes still glowed with murderous intent and a wrath that was just barely contained. "She betrayed me too, my friend. She was my closest friend for years, we did so much together. And still she turned her back on me."
"I loved her," Quinlan said, his voice choking with rage. "I loved her, and she lied to me!" The Kiffar grabbed at Kenobi's shirt, the fine silk fitting loose over his strong, dangerously thin body. "Please, Obi-Wan, help me! I need her dead, I need her to know what she did to me! I want her to feel it when I take her life from her, and I want her to know how much I enjoyed killing her!"
"Hush now, Quin," Obi-Wan said smoothly, his hand extended and projecting calm, and Vos dropped to his knees with a groan, the Dark Side and Kenobi's presence heavy on his mind. The Sith cupped the Kiffar's cheek, ran his thumb over the gold band tattoo that now matched the fallen Jedi's eyes, traced the long, thin burned scar that ran so close to his eye, a scar that Kenobi had put there himself when he was first reunited with his old friend as a Lord of the Sith. "You'll have your revenge. And speaking of, how was my revenge?"
"The population of Oba Diah was executed, as you wanted."
"Did they burn?"
"...n-no." Kenobi frowned, his eyes narrowing as he observed the nervous Kiffar, and he could feel the familiar heat burning in his vision, the flames dancing just out of the corner of his eye, the soft, seductive voice urging him to burn them all, burn everything...
"That's fine," he finally said, brushing it away as best as he could, and while his control did remain, the fire, the voice, the itching restlessness under his skin did not wain. His Master had warned him against burning everything, as he wanted to do. Sidious was wise, and not even his insanity could keep him from following his Master's wishes. Not now. Not ever. "You said executed, then? Did you do it yourself?"
"I did," Vos whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and groaning when he felt the Dark Side burn inside him, not in anger, but in simmering pleasure as he felt the strength of the Force flow within him. "All in my way, hundreds of them. Thousands of them. And it was so easy to do..." He almost whined in desperation when Kenobi's hand left his face and turned from him, casually striding to a dresser in the room and pulling out a cleaned and pressed set of robes.
"The Jedi?" he asked, stepping out of his boots and shedding his shirt, and while he did look healthier, the dark scars on his body did little to cover his gaunt frame, the striations in his muscle clearly seen under skin that seemed far too thin. Vos' gaze lingered on a scar deeper than they rest, almost black against his pale skin that angled in near his spine and exited just above his left hip. It was a scar left by an impalement, and Quinlan knew full well who put it there. He had been there when it had happened. He swallowed hard, and wondered if Ahsoka would be safe from the Sith Lord's wrath.
"They were there, as you said they would be," Vos said absently as Kenobi slid out of his pants and into a new pair. "Bo-Katan handled them. They couldn't get involved. I mean, they tried to help the civilians, but there were too many of us. Nobody escaped the planet, Obi-Wan, I made certain of that myself."
"Revenge and murder suits you, Quin. You seem to have taken to it well."
"Speaking of..." the Kiffar said, taking long strides to stand at the Sith's side and handing him the clean shirt from the folded stack. "My revenge-"
"Will come soon," Obi-Wan concluded, taking the shirt and sliding it on, his quick fingers fastening the buttons. "Very soon. I can feel it. You don't need to seek it out. Have patience, my friend, and it will come to you."
Vos took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, so where are we going?" he asked when Kenobi pulled on his robes and cinched them with his belt.
"I am going to Mustafar with Barriss. She is meek and timid. She is dark, yes, but I can make her better if she embraces the Dark Side. She doesn't see herself as one of us, not yet. But she will. The Sith will be her salvation." He smiled and patted the Kiffar's cheek. "You, Quin, will stay here."
His jaw nearly his the floor, and Quinlan found himself babbling incoherently for a moment before he stuttered, "W-what?! Here! Kenobi, lover, please! You can't keep me here, I'll go out of my mind! Like you, but worse!" The Sith's eyes narrowed, but Vos didn't seem to notice. "So help me, Kenobi, you leave me here and I might render you clone commander into a sex-addled pleasure slave just to keep the boredom away!" Obi-Wan simply shrugged, a devious smirk on his face.
"Cody is coming with me." Sensing his outrage, Obi-Wan put up his hands to placate the frustrated man. "I need him, Vos. I'm meeting with Bo-Katan to discuss the assault on Kessel. We should be attacking that forsaken rock within a day or two."
"You're just bringing him so you have someone to pleasure you!" Vos cried dramatically, and Obi-Wan felt himself laugh from a place inside him that did not originate in madness for the first time in a very long time. "I'm a far better lover than he is!"
"I'm sure you are, Quin," he drawled, running a long finger down the Kiffar's cheek, and Vos quickly snatched his hand and kissed the callused palm. "But you've seen my palace, and you know damn well I don't lack for slaves to pleasure me, if I desire it."
"All the more reason to bring me!" the Kiffar cried, and Kenobi rolled his eyes, snatched his hand away, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Quinlan Vos," he snapped, his voice stern and leaving no room for compromise or argument. "You are staying here because Ventress is too smart to attack Mustafar."
He stared at the Sith Lord, his eyes wide, his jaw slack as his mind slowly changed gears from playful outrage, to blinding hate. "Oh..." Vos finally said, his hand unconsciously touching Tholme's lightsaber at his hip. "Yes, of course..."
"We need to keep you stationary, at least for a little while. We want her to find you."
"Yes, we do..." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes closed as he grasped his rage and held it close. "So you suppose she'll bring Ahsoka?"
Within Vos, Kenobi could sense not just hate and betrayal, but concern and love, deep and pervasive. "I suppose so..." he said softly. "She was with you on Raxus, after all. I feel like they would attempt your rescue together."
"Are you going to kill her?" Vos asked, his voice breathless and just barely a whisper, and Kenobi's immediate answer was caught in his throat, almost as if the Force willed him not to speak. He closed his eyes, considered his visions, the ever changing Togruta in the field of dead Jedi, the one he believed to be Ahsoka Tano, and how she had gone from aloof to now dark and curious in her approach. Something had changed. Something was changing. This may be it.
"I was..." he said softly, his gold eyes running over his tense and nervous friend. "She did stab me in the back, after all, but..." He sighed heavily. "She's important to you, Quin, and I have had visions of her often. Perhaps she still has a role to play. I suppose-" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by strong arms engulfing him in a crushing hug, and with one, small thing, one life saved, Kenobi could feel Vos' loyalty run nearly as deep as the close bond they shared. Vos was his. Forever.
"Thank you..." the Kiffar whimpered, holding him out at arms length. "Listen, Kenobi," he said, biting his lip and looking away, then nodding when he found his resolve. "About Satine, I-"
"Don't."
"No, I have to." He smiled sadly when he watched the corner of Kenobi's mouth twitch, his golden eyes slide out of focus, a slight tremor rush through his body. "I'm so sorry she'd dead. Her and your son, and..." Vos trailed off, uncertain of where he was going with that, unsure of what he was going to say. If there was anything he could say. "We'll have revenge, Obi-Wan. For her and your son, as much as we can get, for as long as it takes."
"...yes." Kenobi looked down at his hands, unsure of where else to look. He could feel his mind begin to blaze, the Force catching the heat like tinder, but he swiftly reached out and grabbed hold, brought it under control as he had seen Sidious do. He could have control. He would have it. A visit to Shaak Ti may be in order, the Jedi had always helped him in his meditations. "I know..." he said softly. "She was my companion for so long. So much more than a friend to me, and she took a piece with her when I laid her to rest on Mandalore." The Sith bowed his head. "The void she left behind in me has been filled with madness, I know that...but I can't stop it."
"We'll do it together, Obi-Wan," Vos said softly, a small smile on his lips. "You and me. Together."