Thy Name is Agony
Ch. 1 - Denial
Written by Celtic Pixie
The denial of death is openly acknowledged as a significant trait of our culture. The tears of the bereaved have become comparable to the excretions of the diseased
Philippe Aries
~0~
After shouting instructions, the handmaiden-who was really Padme Naberrie, the Naboo queen-had moved quickly across the throne room and triggered something on the wall that allowed for the doors to shut and the locks to engage.
The Neimoidians huddled together in their confusion, eyes darting this way and that, seeking help from an outside source. Carcasses of battle droids lay shattered on the marble flooring, and the Naboo had ceased all weapons fire.
"This is the end of your occupation, Viceroy," she said coolly.
Viceroy Nute Gunray stood his ground. "Don't be absurd. There are too few of you. It won't be long before hundreds of destroyer droids break in here to rescue us."
Even while he was barely finishing, the sound of heavy wheels echoed in the anteway, hunks of metal bodies unfolding. The Viceroy allowed himself a gratified smile.
"You see? Even now, rescue is at hand."
Padme hardened her look. "Before they make their way through that door, we will be discussing s new treaty, Viceroy, and your signature will be on it."
The door of the throne room was bombarded by blaster shots. Captain Panaka and the soldiers from Naboo positioned themselves strategically, preparing for a crossfire. Nute Gunrey-meanwhile-stood motionless, with the Queen's weapon leveled at midsection.
All of a sudden, the sounds of weapons firing outside the throne room came to an abrupt halt.
Panaka raised his head in concern and asked anxiously, "What's happening?" His tone and facial expression showed unease and doubt.
Padme, keeping her weapon pointed at Nute Gunray, instructed, "Attempt to establish communication."
The head of security swiftly made his way across the room, skillfully operating the control panel with his fingers. Everyone's attention was solely on him as the outer screens gradually came into view.
The viewscreens flickered and gradually sharpened, revealing the expansive cityscape of Naboo's main capital. A broad avenue unfolded before the eyes, stretching from the entrance of the Royal Palace to a vast courtyard farther down.
The once grand and opulent scenery was now the sight of chaos-people running, frantic, terrified screaming echoing through the courtyard.
Bodies laid scattered across the ground like fallen soldiers on a battlefield. Men, women, and children alike-their lifeless forms contorted in agony. Clothing singed and tattered, skin blistered by intense heat and bodies hardly recognizable from blaster fire. It was a haunting sight, a testament to the mercilessness of battle.
Padme's heart seized; this was the stuff of nightmares. Her eyes narrowed with intensity at the Viceroy, whose mouth had morphed into an upturned grin.
Swallowing her fear, she probed, "Captain, do you have access to the hanger's viewscreen? Can you see if any pilots have returned yet?"
A few more clicks here and there on the control panel and Panaka had complete view of the hanger bay, but it was void of ships and pilots.
"We mustn't be discouraged."
Her faith was unwavering; it's what warmed Panaka's heart, and gave hope to the solders that their comrades were alive.
He continued scanning, going room by room-wherever a viewscreen may be. He scoured each floor, assessing the damage as it came. Some structural issues here and there, bodies of solders and palace guards scattering the entranceway. Panaka dived even deeper, heedless of what he'd find.
Then he stopped; the power room.
~*/*~
Even before he was landing at the end of his leap, Obi Wan had drawn Qui Gon's lightsaber into his hand, simultaneously switching on the power. Maul tried confronting the padawan head on, his face in a twist of rage, but he couldn't act fast enough to save himself. The lightsaber slashed through his midsection before he could blink.
Maul howled in pain, grunting and staggering-as if fighting to keep standing, and continue fighting. He tried lifting his blade, but the muscles in his hand wouldn't obey.
Obi Wan then thumped the saber off and watched with grim satisfaction as two halves of his enemy tumbled into the pit. But he didn't remain long enough to revel in his victory over the sith lord. He hastened his pace to where his fallen master lay. Dropping to his knees, Obi Wan lifted the man's head and shoulders and allowed the body to cradle against his knee.
His hands smoothed through Qui Gon's hair, "Master," he breathed, barely anything above a whisper. His chest felt tight. He tried to breathe, to still the trembling heart beating behind his sternum.
Qui Gon, jostled by the movement, opened his eyes, "Too late, my young padawan. It's - It's too late... " He could barely speak, the pain ebbing his lifeforce away; Qui Gon knew he was dying.
"Regardless if the council believes you're ready, you need to be the teacher." His face contorted in pain. "Train the boy. You must promise me."
Obi Wan's nod was instantaneous, without even consideration. "Yes, Master."
Qui Gon reached out, and touched Obi Wan's face, his fingers tracing over the warmed skin. In his dying moments, he wanted to remember his apprentice, to die with Obi Wan's face being the last he'd see. For a moment, Qui Gon saw in the young man's eyes the same scared little twelve old boy on their way to Bandomeer.
Even as he lay dying now, Qui Gon wished he could soothe his apprentice's fears, as he did before. A tear escaped Obi Wan's eyes. Qui Gon did not admonish him; instead, he wiped away his tear, smiling.
Then, his breathing quickened. "He is the chosen one. He - will bring balance. Train him well, Obi Wan."
His eyes focused only on his apprentice, until they lost their focus. His breathing ceased and his body stilled.
A choking sob caught in Obi Wan's throat. "Master..."
He pressed two fingers to the carotid, and felt nothing. He brought Qui Gon closer to him, hugging the lifeless body tight against his chest, and buried his face in the man's hair, screwing his eyes tight, and crying softly.
Qui Gon Jinn was dead.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had seen death before, but this was different. This was someone he admired, someone who had guided him through his Jedi training, someone who had believed in him when no one else did.
And now, he was gone.
It didn't quite seem like a possibility. It's not one that Obi Wan considered, even though he knew in his heart he should have. People die; it's a fact of life. Not even a jedi is immune to the debt all men pay.
Qui Gon Jinn was dead - The thought seems so finite that it didn't register in Obi Wan's brain.
There was no telling how long he sat there, clutching a body that was no longer living, feeling the weight of loss and grief settle heavily upon him. It certainly didn't feel real. Time seemed to stretch and blur as he sat there, his mind unable to fully comprehend the reality of what had transpired.
He looked down at the lifeless form in his arms, the body still warm. Every fiber of his being screamed for this to be some twisted nightmare, an illusion that would soon dissipate. But deep down, he knew it was all too real.
Tears streamed down Obi Wan's face, mingling with the bloodstains on his hands. He tried to will himself to let go, to release the weight that threatened to consume him entirely. Yet, he couldn't find the strength within him to do so. Holding onto Qui Gon's body felt like holding onto a fading connection, a desperate attempt to keep him close despite knowing he was gone forever.
The shock and disbelief washed over him in waves, making it hard to breathe. Obi Wan had to force himself to remember to breathe - a slow inhale of breath, a slow exhale; his lungs were burning. With each deliberate inhale and exhale, he attempted to steady his racing heart. But the pain inside him felt like a physical weight, pressing down on his chest, and constricting his airways. His body trembled involuntarily, his hands clenching into fists.
He questioned everything he had believed in, grappling with overwhelming disbelief of his palpable grief. This couldn't be happening; it simply wasn't fair. How could someone so vital, so full of life, be taken away in an instant? It felt like a cruel twist of fate, a merciless blow that shattered his world.
He couldn't comprehend why such injustice existed in the universe. It went against everything he believed in – the idea that good would triumph over evil, that love, and compassion would prevail. But now, those beliefs were shaken to their core.
The weight on his chest persisted as tears filled his eyes. His fists tightened even more, knuckles turning white from the strain.
~*/*~
The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh, as flames consumed everything in their path.
The black plumes of smoke billowed into the sky like dark omens, casting an eerie shadow over the devastation below. They seemed to mock, serving as a constant reminder of the lives lost and dreams shattered. Padme felt overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness as she surveyed the scene before her.
The magnitude of tragedy washed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her numb and speechless. There were no words to describe the anguish that filled her soul at that moment.
From the steps of the palace to the ends of the courtyard, there was only desolation and sorrow. The silence was deafening amidst all the destruction. It was as if time itself had paused to mourn for those who perished here.
Padme clenched her fists, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. She had been entrusted with the safety and well-being of her people, but now all she could see was their suffering. The flames seemed to dance mockingly in the distance, as if taunting her inability to protect them.
She took a hesitant step forward, her feet sinking into the blood-stained ground. Each movement felt heavy, as though gravity itself was pulling her back. But Padme refused to be consumed by despair. She knew that she had to find strength within herself to rise above this devastation. As she walked through the ruins, memories of happier times flooded her mind. The laughter and joy that once filled these streets now seemed like distant echoes. What remained were only fragments of what used to be; charred remains and broken dreams.
Her heart ached for those who had lost their homes, their loved ones, and their sense of security. How could they rebuild when everything they held dear had turned to ashes?
Theed's Medical Center would be the central point to which many of the survivors would be heading, the hospital no doubt inundated with dozens upon dozens of wounded. Doctors and nurses would be working tirelessly, doing their best to treat as many patients as possible. The waiting rooms would be overflowing with people seeking medical attention, the atmosphere filled with a sense of urgency and chaos.
The hospital's emergency department would be bustling with activity, with stretchers lining the hallways and doctors rushing from one patient to another. Triage teams would be assessing the severity of injuries and prioritizing treatment accordingly. Those with life-threatening conditions would receive immediate attention, while others might have to wait for hours before being seen.
The operating rooms would be in constant use, surgeons performing critical procedures to save lives. Blood banks would be depleted quickly as supplies were needed for transfusions. Medical equipment and supplies would be stretched thin, forcing healthcare professionals to make do with what they had.
In addition to physical injuries, mental health support would also be crucial at Theed's Medical Center. Survivors traumatized by the events leading up to their arrival at the hospital would require counseling and therapy to help them cope with their experiences.
Outside the hospital, makeshift triage areas would be set up to provide initial care for those who couldn't make it into the building.
The sight was complete chaos - enough for even the strongest of people to feel queasy and sick and confused, but Padme couldn't be afforded such luxury. There wasn't much she could do but she helped where needed, running herself on autopilot.
As Padme Naberrie cast her vote for herself during the candidate selection process, she couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, it was a crucial decision that showcased her readiness and determination to take on the role of queen. It demonstrated her belief in her own abilities and qualifications.
However, there was also a tinge of unease within Padme as she acknowledged the slight sense of pride that accompanied this decision. She recognized that considering herself superior to other candidates went against her values of humility and fairness. It troubled her because she had always strived to treat others with respect and equality.
Padme understood that leadership should not be about personal glory or elevating oneself above others. Instead, it should focus on serving the people and making decisions for the greater good. This realization made her question whether her momentary view of superiority was indicative of a flaw in her character or simply a natural reaction to the competitive nature of politics.
Nevertheless, Padme remained determined to lead with integrity and empathy. She knew that true strength lay in recognizing one's own capabilities while valuing the skills and perspectives of others. Despite the fleeting sense of pride, she resolved to remain grounded and prioritize collaboration over individual accomplishments.
In casting her vote for herself, Padme Naberrie displayed both confidence in her abilities and a willingness to confront any internal conflicts that arose from such self-assuredness. Ultimately, it would be through her actions as queen rather than just words or votes that she would prove herself worthy of the position and overcome any doubts or concerns she had about momentarily viewing herself as better than others.
The presence of tradition brought her a sense of solace, serving as a reminder that her role in this matter extended beyond herself. This realization only truly dawned on her that morning when she placed the ballot-chip into the box.
"Highness!"
Padme was jolted. She released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and opened the eyes she didn't realize she'd shut.
Her eyes locked onto her security captain and followed his line of sight.
She blinked once, and again, clearing the haze from her vision. She must have missed him initially-the jedi padawan walking gradually through the chaos. His head was drawn low, his gate marred by fatigue and muscle pains. Carried in his arms was a body. Padme drew closer to them. She recognized the body almost instantly-Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn, which means the younger man was the apprentice.
Obi Wan locked eyes with the young queen. He walked, and he struggled; his legs barely responding to his commands, and the weight of his Master's body was crippling him.
Captain Panaka charged forward, offering to take Qui Gon's body, but he was refused. "Master Jedi, please," he heard Padme say, and reluctantly surrendered the boy to Panaka, an instantaneous ping in his heart.
The full weight of Obi Wan's injuries bore down on him. His hand shot out to catch himself on the edge of the building as he fell forwards.
Padme surged to his side and gently eased Obi Wan onto the triage bed, her eyes filled with concern. "Easy now", her voice trembling slightly.
He winced in pain, his breath coming out in labored gasps. "I'll be fine," he managed to reply through gritted teeth. "Just need a moment to catch my breath."
Padme's brows furrowed as she assessed his injuries. Blood seeped through his tattered Jedi robes, and his face was pale with exhaustion. She knew that time was of the essence; they needed to get him medical attention quickly.
"You must be seen to," she insisted. Padme knew she was youthful, and he was her elder, but she felt a pang of responsibility towards him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Obi Wan saw Panaka walking away with Qui Gon's body, and his heart began pounding louder against his ribs.
Obi Wan grunted, his muscles screaming. "I am fine. Really."
"Master Jedi, with all due respect, you are not, fine," Padme argued, not that she really wanted to argue with him, but she could clearly see through his vail of fake bravado. "Allow a physician to exam you. I would insist on it."
"While I appreciate your concern, Your Highness, I would not consider taking resources from someone who needed it more than I right now." He hobbled down from the bed, his knees nearly folding from under him; Obi Wan steadied himself.
Padme watched him with a mixture of worry and admiration. "Where are you going?" She understood his determination to honor his promise, but she couldn't help but fear for his well-being.
"If it's all the same to you, Your Highness, I must find Anakin. I made a promise to my Master at his death."
Obi Wan carefully placed one foot in front of the other, but his body was weakened with exhaustion and grief.
"Master Jedi, please," she pleaded, stepping closer to him. "I understand your loyalty to the boy, but you need time to recover. You're in no condition to go searching for him."
Obi-Wan paused, his tired eyes meeting hers. He could see the genuine concern in her gaze, the love and compassion that flowed from her. It tugged at his heartstrings, making him question his decision.
~*/*~
Anakin Skywalker decided this was far better than Podracing. With a wide grin on his face, the Naboo fighter skillfully maneuvered in a zigzag pattern to confuse the gunners. It swiftly crossed the hanger deck, causing broken droids to scatter in its wake. Finally, it launched into space while cannon fire relentlessly pursued it.
R2 emitted loud beeps and chirps, with all of its circuits functioning at full capacity. Anakin ignored the astromech as he struggled to maneuver the starfighter, banking it in various directions while steering it away from the control ship.
The intercom came alive with chatter; "What's happening to the control ship?"
A pulsing light caught Anakin's attention. He glanced over his shoulder as images of the battleship displayed before him, now wrecked by a series of explosions, huge chunks of metal breaking away, tumbling into space. Did he do that?
It was blowing up from the inside! Oh man. This wasn't exactly something he intended. As it continued breaking apart, the sleek yellow starfighter rocketed forward.
"Look!" came a voice; it was Bravo Two, "One of ours. Out of the main hold!"
There was a slight cringe to Anakin's body; he had been hoping to get out of this with minimal attention-well, that wasn't happening anymore. He just wanted to avoid having to explain to Qui Gon what exactly he was doing up there.
Anakin just hoped he wouldn't get himself into too much trouble. Hopefully he could explain himself about Qui Gon would be forgiving. He seemed like the type.
The Naboo N-1 crawled through deep space and entered the planet's atmosphere almost as sleekly as it had done leaving. It slipped like butter through the hanger bay doors, twisting and wheeling back into place.
Anakin took a moment, letting himself settle his breathing and racing heart. Reality hadn't sunk in for him yet.
He had just piloted a starfighter, something he had only dreamed of doing before. The adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he stepped out of the cockpit, feeling a sense of accomplishment and exhilaration unlike anything he had ever experienced.
But amidst all the excitement, there was also a touch of apprehension. Anakin knew that his actions would have consequences.
He had disobeyed orders to stay put and had taken matters into his own hands, risking not only his own life but also jeopardizing the mission at hand. The weight of responsibility started to settle upon him as he walked down the corridor towards the debriefing room. He wondered how Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn would react to his impulsive decision. Would he be praised for his bravery or scolded for disregarding orders?
Anakin pushed these thoughts aside and focused on calming himself down. He needed to appear composed and confident in front of the Jedi Council. Taking deep breaths, he reminded himself that everything happened for a reason and that even if things didn't go as planned, there would always be lessons to learn from every experience.
The cockpit hood slid open, and Anakin stepped out into a crowd of pilots that had descended from their starships, craning to get a look at this mysterious pilot. Many looked just as surprised and shocked as Anakin felt. His tiny body was tired and weak, but he absorbed their praise like a sponge, their clapping and hollering like an alarm ringing in his ears.
Anakin's heart swelled with pride as he scanned the sea of faces before him. These were seasoned pilots, warriors who had seen their fair share of battles and victories. And yet, they looked at him with awe and admiration.
As he made his way through the crowd, Anakin couldn't help but notice the whispers that followed in his wake. He caught fragments of conversations praising his skills and bravery. Some even mentioned rumors about his exceptional piloting abilities, whispering that he was destined for greatness.
But amidst all the praise and attention, Anakin's mind remained focused on one thing-finding Master Qui Gon.
He started asking around, but no one had knowledge of the Jedi Master's whereabouts, nor of the padawan that accompanied him. Anakin knew the last he remembered seeing of Qui Gon or of Obi Wan was hours before, watching their lightsabers clashing against their attacker's, wheeling across the hanger in sparks of electric fire.
The last thing Anakin remembered was their attacker pressing his assault forwards, driving the Jedi across the hanger with terrifying fury, until they disappeared from view.
A voice cried out: "Anakin? Anakin Skywalker?"
Padme?
Anakin whirled around on his feet. As a small crowd of pilots parted, he saw Padme Amidala rushing up to meet him, a few Naboo soldiers on her heels. His heart quaked with elation. Seeing her alive gave him warm feelings in his blood.
He charged forward without thinking and met with her in an open hug, nearly burying his face into the crook of her shoulder and crying hard tears.
She leaned away from him, and brushed a stray hair from his forehead that hung low over a small abrasion in his skin. "Are you okay?"
The relief in her eyes was palpable as she took in his appearance, scanning him for any signs of injury or distress. Anakin couldn't help but smile at the concern etched on her face.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered, soothing her query.
Satisfied, Padme stood, offering a hand, "Come with me."
Anakin reached for her hand but then hesitated, and she caught his hesitation with a raised eyebrow. "Where's Master Qui Gon?"
Suddenly, Padme stopped, and offered a sad yet sympathic look; Anakin had a dark, crushing feeling settle in his chest. Something obviously happened, but he'd be okay, right? Right? Qui Gon was such a strong person; Anakin refused to believe he wouldn't be okay.
"Ani, something's - happened. Come, I'll explain everything to you. I promise."
~*/*~
Despite his injuries, Obi Wan's determination to put others before himself never wavered. He knew that the war-torn city of Theed was filled with countless individuals who required medical attention far more urgently than he did.
The Jedi Padawan believed in the power of the Force to heal and guide him through even the most challenging moments.
With every step he took, Obi Wan could feel pain shooting through his body. Each breath was a reminder of his battered state, but he pushed through, relying on his training and discipline to keep going. Even though he longed for relief from the pain, his duty as a Jedi demanded self-sacrifice and unwavering resolve.
He couldn't allow himself to become a burden when there were so many lives hanging in the balance.
Obi Wan arrived room where the dead lay - where Qui Gon remained, his temporary resting place. Despite the fact he could barely keep himself vertical, the Jedi padawan was firm in his resolve to keep vigil over his mentor's body. He reached out to touch him; the warmth was slowly leaving Qui Gon, but Obi Wan wanted to absorb what was left.
He combed his fingers through Qui Gon's peppered hair, hand trembling. The council would need to be apprised of what happened here. Preparations would need to be made. Neither is something that Obi Wan really wanted to think about, but he knew he had to.
So much chatter and chaos in the hallways that Obi Wan could have easily mistaken the trembling voice of a scared little boy as a multitude of others, but it was Anakin calling his name that caused him to turn around. And standing next to him in the doorway was Padme. Obi Wan quickly brushed at his eyes as the boy surged forward, but he's pretty sure Anakin saw him crying; he would have denied it if he had.
Anakin walked into the room, the air heavy with sorrow and death. He dared to close some distance between himself and the table in which Qui Gon lay, but his expression when looking at the body seemed almost unreadable.
Then, he turned towards Obi Wan, and said, "Wait, wait, wait - this can't be possible, right? No one can kill a jedi. Tell him to get up. He needs to get up."
Obi Wan felt his heart tighten. "Anakin..."
Anakin glanced back and forth between the young man in front of him and the woman who was still standing in the doorway. The woman lowered her head and exited, indicating that she had chosen to give them privacy.
Despite the intense amount of pain radiating from chest to kneecaps, Obi Wan lowered himself to the floor until he was eye-level with the child.
Anakin flung himself to the Jedi's body, catching Obi Wan initially off guard but then he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, pulling him closer.
Obi Wan's rhythmic heartbeat echoed through Anakin's body, offering solace amidst the chaos that had consumed their lives. The weight of loss and destruction seemed to momentarily fade away as he clung to the man, finding refuge in the safety of their embrace.
Anakin closed his eyes, shutting out the gruesome scenes that haunted his memories. The battles fought, lives lost, and darkness encroaching upon every corner of the galaxy felt distant for a fleeting moment.
It wasn't just physical comfort that Anakin sought; it was reassurance that they were still alive, still fighting against the overwhelming tide of despair. Obi Wan's presence symbolized hope and stability amidst the turmoil, reminding him why they persevered even when it seemed impossible.
Just seeing Anakin alive and well was all the truth Obi Wan needed right now. They pulled apart from each other and he almost smiled-Anakin would have sworn he saw it-but Obi Wan couldn't find the strength for anything, much less smiling.
Obi Wan put a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Come. We must try to reach the council."
He stood, using the edge of the metal table as a brace, and then he dared to start walking. That might have been a mistake.
As soon as he took just one step, Obi Wan's body locked up, and suddenly he couldn't remember how to walk. His brain would not register what he wanted his muscles to do. White hot pain surged through his veins like fire, exploding in bursts of intense heat. He tried taking another step and that's when everything failed him.
He was falling before he could catch himself, and unable to remember what he saw right before everything turned white, but he knew someone was calling his name.