Author's Note: Here I am again, desperately trying to get this fic finished eventually. Welcome back to anyone who's still with me! I wanted to note here that I'm really struggling with researching the Star Wars bits for this fic this time around. A lot of sources I was using before have disappeared or been seriously stripped down – a side effect of Disney taking over the rights, maybe? Anyway, that means I'm flying mostly blind as far as the universe details, so I apologize in advance for any missteps. Please feel free to correct any misinformation I may have.
Chapter Twenty-One
Obi Wan heaved in the fresher for a third time, bringing up only bile and making the blood pound behind his eyes.
That dream….
The sound of Buffy screaming. The complete darkness and unseen walls pressing in from all sides.
Some sort of town, but empty and with odd machines. Fires and destruction.
Buffy, torn to pieces, chains around her limbs. But then whole again, kneeling in a tattered and dirty black dress. Her hair longer and disheveled. Her tears…
He called out to her then in desperation, trying to figure out where she was, what had happened. Screaming through the Force so hard that his mind felt raw when he awoke.
He swallowed hard and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, wiping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his robe as he went. After rinsing his mouth, he stepped back into the main room while dragging his shaking hand against the wall for support.
This was his fault. He'd left her with that Sith and something terrible had happened, or it would. He had no illusions that this was a prophecy of distant future, though. The horror and panic he'd felt from her were immediate. But, it was too far to get there to help immediately.
Maybe if he moved quickly enough and convinced the right person, who had the right connections though…
He was through the door and sprinting down the streets of Crimson Corridor a moment later. Not caring for the wide-eyed looks as he utilized the Force to move, move,move. Not caring for the rain that started falling, plastering his robes to his body. Not caring that what he was about to do washighlyinappropriate. Not even caring for the logical voice in the back of his mind asking him when this person had replaced the Jedi Temple as a place of refuge, orwhy.
Chancellor Palpatine answered the door as if he'd been expecting him.
"Drink your tea, dear boy," the Chancellor said. "Did you not see rain was scheduled for tonight?"
Obi Wan picked up the cup dutifully, dully noting the comforting warmth on his icy hands. The Chancellor had been kind enough to listen to his babbling in his entry before ushering him in and getting him some clean, dry clothes - making everything seem so much less urgent somehow. The clothing was even almost his normal Jedi style, with loose cuts and soft material, just much darker and slightly heavier than he'd ever worn before. The black cloak the Chancellor had draped around him before guiding him to a seat was a warm weight. How odd the life of the rich and influential must be to just have this in his home. But Obi Wan was grateful, he felt more centered than he had since waking, his mind slowing and ordering, the Force a distant clamor instead of a warning siren.
"I sincerely apologize for invading your home. And in such a state," he said before taking a sip of his tea. "I was-"
"No need for apologies," the Chancellor cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I'm glad you felt you could come to me"
They were seated in some sort of parlor with a fireplace roaring against the wall. Obi Wan had always found them to be a useless addition in modern homes such as this, not to mention disconcerting to have such a destructive element as decoration, but he had to admit that the warmth and the smell along with the waves of oranges and yellows it sent dancing over the surfaces were somehow calming. He could imagine himself meditating in such a space.
"As I have it, your friend has gone off to confront one of the Hutts and found herself in a spot of trouble, yes?"
Obi Wan's head snapped up, but the Chancellor wasn't looking at him. He was staring into the fire, shadows flickering across his expression making it look somber one moment and amused the next.
Shaking off the play of the light he stuttered as he tried to remember exactly what he'd said when he'd gotten there. He was quite certain he hadn't mentioned the Hutts as that was a delicate detail he wanted to ease into. "Wh- what- Have you heard something?"
"I like to keep abreast of many situations," he replied with another hand wave. Long, thin fingers sending shadows skittering up the walls. "The Hutts mostly try to keep their business dealings quiet, but they can be a thorn in ones' side if they wished it, so I keep up to date on what they're up to."
Obi Wan nodded sipping his tea again, a strange lethargy washing over him as he listened.
"After you left the last time, I put some feelers out and got back the impression… of a trap," he said, eyes shifting to Obi Wan who felt his breath catch. "My apologies for keeping this to myself, but I didn't know how to contact you and didn't want to draw too much attention to your… situation."
Obi Wan hunched over his cup a little. Of course, it made sense that the Chancellor could access all kinds of information networks throughout the city, so it would've been easy enough to find him. But given Obi Wan's status as a former Jedi and him choosing to live in such an area as Crimson Corridor, he had thoughtfully not thrown a light on him. It should have been obvious to him before now, but a lone former Jedi apprentice could attract some unsavory attention between grudges, proposed alliances and slavers that dealt in the more…unusualspecies. Maybe if he'd still been at the Jedi Temple he could've actually helped Buffy…
"I want to help you Obi Wan, but I want you to stop what you're doing this instant." When Obi Wan looked at him in confusion, he continued. "I can tell you're questioning your choices, thinking if you'd made different ones this could have been prevented, but regret is a useless emotion. Focus on what can be done from here. And remember, if things had gone differently earlier you wouldn't have access to myself and what I have to offer."
Obi Wan nodded slowly, absorbing this information. Yes, regret was useless, as he couldn't change what was done. But he could learn from his mistakes, he could've asked-
"And what would your former master or the Council have said and done had you brought this to them?" He asked, as if reading his mind. "Do you honestly think they would've sent you into Hutt territory to aid or assist in any way? Would've sent any kind of help at all?"
No.
The answer was loud and immediate in his mind.
"But you and I can do what they cannot," the Chancellor said, his voice gaining a strange reedy quality as he leaned toward Obi Wan and his intense stare reflected the flames. "You and I can be our own council and make decisions without their endless discussions and flaccid excuses. That is what we discussed earlier, is it not? A partnership between us two?"
Obi Wan sat down his tea cup and rubbed his eyes roughly. What the Chancellor was saying was harsh, but was it untrue? Wasn't that the reason he'd left in the first place – more action less deliberating? Helping those who needed it instead of those that were more politically important? Those judged worthy only by the Council?
"Yes, you're right, of course," Obi Wan agreed tiredly, hand still over his eyes. Though the crude "flaccid excuses" echoed distantly in his mind with a twinge of unease.
"Then let our partnership start now. We can determine what happened to your friend and why. We can make those responsible pay…"
The Chancellor's voice had gained almost a musical quality as Obi Wan faintly noted him getting up from his seat and crouching before him. He dropped his hand from his eyes and found the man's face was mostly in shadow now that the fire was to his back, so his expression was hard to discern despite him looking directly into Obi Wan's eyes with no more than half a meter between them.
"You're familiar with the establishment called The Tusken Oasis, yes?" He asked, his hand on Obi Wan's shoulder felt hot. He wished he could take off the heavy cloak, between it and the fire he was feeling a bit lightheaded.
"The Tusken Oasis, Obi Wan?" The Chancellor prodded, making Obi Wan realize he'd yet to answer.
"Yes, I know of it," he said, stopping to swallow. His suddenly dry throat making a clicking sound as he did. "I've been there."
"The proprietor, a man named Dahl-"
Anger coursed through him at the name, almost surprising him with its heat. That man… He'd wanted Buffy. He was dangerous.
"Yesss," the words were a nasal hiss, warm breath against his face. "Dahl is responsible for your friend Buffy's current situation. He sold information on her to a Hutt. I think we both know what that Hutt will do with someone like her. She may be strong, but she's not invincible. Chipped and chained, used and broken, defiled-"
Obi Wan stood from his seat so quickly the chair clattered to the floor behind him.
"That's right," and amused voice said from right next to him. "Go to the Tusken Oasis and show them what happens when they dare take what is yours."
Buffy stared out at the back yard from the kitchen (the kitchen of her home… her home inSunnydale…) with a strange sort of detachment. She could hear the whispers of the others in the living room, but they weren't saying anything that she wasn't already thinking.
Where had she been?
Was she okay?
Was she really 'Buffy'?
What was next?
This is what she'd wanted, right? What she'd dreamed of but had given up on? A magic way back home, to her friends and her family and the world where she belonged? Then why was she so… unsettled?
She'd found the others in an alley about to be brutally murdered by some lame biker demons. It hadn't taken much thought, it didn't matter if it was a dream, a new dimension or reality, there was no circumstance that would have her sitting on the sidelines and watching her friends get ripped apart.
They were worried, she knew, but she couldn't help but keep them at a distance until she figured out what was the what with being there. If they were real. If she was real. If this was some kind of trick or dream.
She sighed, feeling Spike's moon-eyed stare boring into her back from the kitchen doorway.
"Forget where the glasses were, pet?"
She glanced back at him in confusion for a second before remembering that was her excuse to get out of the room where Xander babbled in nervousness and Dawn was glued to her side. Where Willow was staring at her with some strange look that almost seemed like smugness, and Tara was looking at her with an equal amount of wariness. And Spike… Spike looked at her like she was his end and beginning all wrapped in one.
Another similar look from someone else flashed in her mind. One more welcome. One that gave her strength instead of made her feel tired. One that came with a burst of fierce homesickness. Which was odd, wasn't it? Since she was homenow?
She flinched away as a hand now holding a glass of water appeared in front of her. She didn't take it until he sat it on the counter, not wanting to accidentally touch Spike's hand. Dawn's hug had been overwhelming, like she hadn't touched anyone in years. Her skin felt raw and hyper sensitive and she'd shied away from any contact after that.
Why would it feel like that? She hadn't exactly been touchy feely in her new life, but she hadn't been isolated and touch starved either. Unless that wasn't real. Or maybe this was real and that was a dream and her body had been locked in a coffin for months while her soul imagined far off places. Where she rotted away in a box when she thought she was helping people-
"Buffy!"
Spike's barking out of her name made her cringe back a step and look at him in surprise. His pale face was taken up by wide concerned eyes as he looked to her hand, where she saw her skin was wet and bloody, the remains of the glass on the floor below.
She didn't feel anything at all.
The rain had continued its steady fall and left the streets of Crimson Corridor half empty, allowing the garish lights from the surrounding businesses to reflect off the wet surface. Obi Wan's steps were steady beat, disrupting the glow as he moved down the center of the road. He was nothing but a dark shadow come alive, a silhouette, but a primal instinct had the few that were out scuttling out of his path.
Chained…
Broken…
Defiled…
The words played on a loop through his head, along with graphic images he feared were premonitions because of their clarity. He hoped his mind could not conjure such things with nothing but his own imagination.
His skin felt tight, like it belonged to someone else. Nothing sounded better than to pull off the heavy, borrowed cloak and give the rain access to his overheated skin, but something whispered a warning against that.
Don't be seen. Don't invite questions.
With very little memory of the trip, the Tusken Oasis was suddenly before him. The glow of the lights, the raucous laughter, the music pouring out, all of it brought on a wave of déjà vu he couldn't understand, as he'd only been there in the daylight before. He stepped toward the entrance, before the strange whispered warning was again echoing through him.
Don't be seen-
Eyes sliding to the alley to the right, he remembered Buffy reappearing from that direction after their last visit. She'd left via a back way, she'd said. Buffy… Why was he here again? Buffy wasn't here, was she?
Chained…
Broken…
Defiled…
His hand was gripped tightly around the hilt of his lightsaber even though he didn't remember grabbing it and he found himself looking at the same extra-large Sanyassan as the last time he'd been there. Again the movement from point A to B was lost to him, but a sudden eagerness for a fight drowned out the whispering worry of that.
Everything had gone so wrong so quickly, what with the Sith showing up, the argument with Buffy, her leaving without him, and now her possibly being…
Chained…
Broken…
Defiled…
But finally it felt like that frustration had an outlet. This guard, getting in his way, stopping him from…
From what? Buffy's not here. Why am I here…
Dahl. He was there for Dahl. But why…
His lightsaber was humming and casting the dim interior hall in a blue glow. When had he… He looked around, confusion softening the sharp edges everything had a moment ago. Wasn't he just outside? What of the Sanyassan?
Get rid of Dahl, he's dangerous, this is his fault, this is the first step to protecting her…
The voice in his head was a familiar nasal whisper that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. At the same time another rush of anger overcame him, making his vision shake with its intensity.
He continued down the hallway, silent other than the hum of his lightsaber and the swish of his cloak, easily hidden beneath the beat of the music further in the club.
Voices, conversational, came from an open door.Thatvoice. Dahl…
Obi Wan blinked and suddenly everything had changed. He was no longer in the hallway, he was in an office. An office with a desk that had been smashed against a wall, paperwork strewn on the floor and an unmoving body on top of it face down. Another by the door. A blond man, backed against a wall, eyes wild as he pulled a blaster and fired. He didn't even raise his lightsaber - it took nothing more than a wave of Obi Wan's free hand to deflect it.
He felt…good.That overrode the confusion clambering in the back of his head. Power hummed across his skin, displacing that too tight, too hot feeling of earlier. It feltright.
"Where is she," his voice was so low and quiet he wondered for a moment if he'd said the words out loud or only in his mind. But Dahl answered…
"I didn't do anything to her! I haven't seen her since you were here with her!"
"Do not play this game with me. I am in no mood."
The man's pale face slowly became more blue as Obi Wan moved closer, his lightsaber leaving a singed path across the papers on the ground to his side with each step.
"She left with a smuggler for Tatooine. Guy named Bal. He has ports registered as Steller Envoy Shipping and The Sunfighter Franchise."
He stopped a meter from the other man. "You could not contain her. Could not make her yours. So you decided to destroy her. Because you're small and petty and she didn't fit into your pathetic plans. You were too weak to stop her yourself, so you sold her out to someone you thought could."
Dahl flushed and opened his mouth, no doubt to spew some flaccid excuse.
Chained…
Broken…
Defiled…
Buffy in the dream, panicked and trapped. Crying. Ripped to pieces.
His lightsaber stopped a breath away from Dahl's pale face, the blue light bouncing off the sweat on his brow. But it wasn't pity, or mercy that stayed Obi Wan's hand. It was the green blade of his former Master.