. Bonds of Choice #11 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 2 of 3) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Corubia dropped her packs on the bed in her new room. Master Crowe was moving into his bedroom in their new quarters. It turned out that Kourt Crowe had never been assigned permanent quarters, so peculiar was it for him to be on Coruscant at all, much less in the Temple. L. Rilka had given them quarters meant for a Master/Padawan pair, just in case everything went as planned. If it did not, another move would be needed anyway. Corubia had not been able to make herself go to her rooms for her personal belongings. She made a mental note to ask someone to bring them to her. All she had with her were the things she had taken on her last mission. They took almost no time to put away. A rumble in her stomach reminded her she had not eaten in a long time, and she headed out to the kitchen. Kourt was waiting by the caterer, waiting for his ever-present tea to be delivered. Corubia locked her knees, overriding the urge to kneel, hoped it was not noticed. Kourt raised an eyebrow, curious. "Still having some impulse-control problems?" Corubia chuckled ruefully. "It seems as though I am." "Is there something I can do to help with that?" he inquired. "Maybe if you tied this stuff back so I can see your eyes. You have very kind eyes…" Corubia reached out to push his hair back further. "That sounds like a deal to me. I'll get a tie while you get some lunch for us. We need to prepare for the testing tomorrow." He headed for his rooms. "I thought I already passed the tests you set," Corubia scrolled through the menu listings. "Yes, well, those were to see if you were mad or Dark. Now you'll be tested on your current standing. Padawan Kenobi and Master Jinn will be brought into this, I'm sure, considering their involvement with the situation. It was suggested that we recall her first Padawan, but it does not seem to me that she had much influence in his life. Indeed, it begins to look like she never had a hand in anyone else's life." Kourt held a blue ribbon out to Corubia. "Would you?" "Yes, Master Crowe. And no, she didn't seem to have much of a social circle. She didn't stop me from having friends, but I think she wanted to try." Corubia gathered Kourt's curls back in a topknot, not unlike the one Master Jinn so often wore. She smiled. * I'm going to have to tell Obi-Wan that we have matching Masters now. That is, if he actually BECOMES my master.* A few twists and a knot, and his hair hung back neatly. She stepped back to survey her handiwork. "Well, it's serviceable, but it's not really you. I'll have to think about this." "I liked it how it was," Kourt groused. "You look like a kid, how it was." "Part of my charm. Maybe I should frost it, give me a little distinguished gray. What do you think?" He tugged at a loose curl, then pushed it away. "I think not. So, how do you want to prepare for these tests?" Corubia turned to the caterer and gathered up their provisions. She set the table for their meal and Kourt followed with the tea. "We'll begin with some mental exercises and work from there. Now, tell me what you know about the Pearl Drop cycle of meditations." Corubia began her explanation around bites of sandwich. Soon they were embroiled in a debate on the subject. * Now I know what Obi-Wan's had all this time. Lucky boy. I think this might work out after all. * Unbidden, her thoughts turned towards the reason she was where she was. The memory of Torlamin's Darkness, the moments when that ichor had reached out for her mind from her master. A second later, she was clinging to the toilet bowl, losing her lunch. Master Crowe was there beside her, stroking her back as she vomited. His low voice crooned "It didn't happen. You're still with us. You are a Jedi, you didn't break. I am so proud of you." He went on in this vein as she broke down and cried. He held her, murmuring reassurances and hoping fervently that Qui-Gon was having an easier time with his student. *************************************** Obi-Wan had requested and been granted time to look over the data Kourt had given him before their appointment with Rue Torlamin. The more he read, though, the less he liked what he learned. He had expected, perhaps, more philosophy or thought-provoking questions from the enigmatic Master Crowe. What he got was… more information than he really wanted to know. Not about the Dark Force, or those associated with it. At least, not directly. What he had was a piece of his Master's past. A piece of Qui-Gon Jinn. He put his lightslate aside and lay back on the cool tile. He had gone off to hide himself on a balcony near Corubia's rooms. *Ex-rooms,* he reminded himself. For years it had been the hiding place he most relied on, knew he would either be left alone or in the company of friends he trusted. Now he wished it wasn't quite so secluded. He sighed and picked up the lightslate, starting the files again, setting the slate to read them aloud to his poor, shocked mind. Kourt Crowe's voice drifted out to him. "Personal address to Padawan Kenobi, from Master Crowe. I hope you're sitting down. If not, you might want to get comfortable. This is a short story, but an ugly one. One you might not have heard before. Looking over these files, I realize there are some gaping holes, so I'm going to try to fill them in here, give you a little background to work from. I hope… I most sincerely hope what you learn here will not be too difficult for you to bear. It was almost too difficult for me to bear, but then again, I was there at the time and… "Ahem. Your master, Qui-Gon Jinn had a student named Xanatos. I can't tell you his last name, because honestly, we don't know. I know he took the last name Fendle after a time, but… there's a lot we don't know about Xanatos. A lot we might never know. Anyway, your master, my friend, Qui-Gon had been working with me for some time, studying the nature of the Dark Side, writing and researching the subject almost exclusively since his first Padawan passed her trials. It came to our attention that there was a child, a human boy in the crèche that might benefit from our intervention. "Qui-Gon went to interview the child, play with him, see how we might help. To this day I wish I had made the time to go myself. Skies how I wish that. He, Xanatos, he was a real charmer, even at that age. Young, almost too young, just turned ten and nothing would do but that Qui-Gon take him as a Padawan. I went to see him for myself, later. I understood why Qui-Gon wanted him. I was… cautiously in favor of the pairing. "No. That's wrong. I…encouraged him. I think I might have influenced him too strongly. I know I did. I told him that the boy had almost no chance of completing his training with anyone other than a member of our merry band. I told him we could handle anything the kid threw at us. I told him I'd take care of the situation if things went badly. Promised him that. It's a promise I fully intend to keep, as soon as I lay hands on the slimy little bastard. That's Xanatos, not your Master. Anyway, with one thing and another, Qui-Gon and Xanatos were bonded and I sort of hung around to help when I could. "Things seemed to be going well. Argh. I can't lie to you. I can not hide behind the words I would give to almost any other. Half-truths will do you no good. Things were dangerous almost from the start. Qui-Gon was being somewhat… unorthodox in his training of Xanatos. You see, the boy had a great deal of fear in him, much anger and resentment at the Order for having taken such control of his life. In truth, I think we would have done him a greater service to simply not train him at all. He was not suited to this life. He was not one to be a Jedi. But Qui-Gon, philosopher that he was, believed he could train the boy up in a new way, teach him to use his copious energies as strengths, rather than tamping them down and moving them into new areas. I told him that if anyone could handle the situation, it was us. We knew the chances weren't good, but went ahead anyway, cobbling together new exercises, new techniques for the boy. "Strangely enough, this seemed to work. Slowly, with much care and looking after, Xanatos lost his fears, lost his anger, became a calm and useful member of the Order. We thought we had succeeded, found a new way to make Jedi. A new breed of Jedi, we called it. Foolish. I know now, WE know now that the traditions of the Order are there for a reason, that the thousands of years that have gone into their making can not be overruled by a couple of upstart anomalies, no matter who. They can not be denied or altered by any of us. What we did was foolhardy and wrongheaded. We learned a hard lesson. It is one thing for an individual to learn how to work within the rules, the laws of the Order and then choose to move outside of those boundaries. Quite another to never learn those rules at all. "It was not intentional. We… he honestly thought he was doing what was best for the boy, training him in the best way he knew how. I don't want you to get the impression that Xanatos had nothing of the sort of training you have received. For the most part, your training has been identical, as far as I know. Only here and there, deeper inside, would you find the differences. And the differences would all lie in Xanatos' motivations. "If you have this message, you've already learned how important motivations can be. "So Qui-Gon and Xanatos were sent on a mission, one to test the Padawan, preparatory to his formal Trials. I still don't know what Yoda had them doing on that stupid little mudball. All I know is that Qui-Gon called for help and I went. By the time I got there it was much, much too late. The damage had been done and it was a miracle that Qui-Gon got out alive. Some were not so lucky. "Read the reports from that mission. I'll be honest, I wrote most of them and signed Qui-Gon's name. No one much cared at the time. All anyone cared about was that Qui-Gon's Padawan had turned to the Dark Side. All anyone cared about was blaming your Master. It wasn't his fault. The fault was mine. I taught him what he used, encouraged his use of them and he listened to me. Believed in me and what I had taught him. If you ask him, he'll tell you it was his own pride he was listening to. He'll tell you he failed as a Master, as a Jedi. Nothing could be further from the truth. He would never have taught Xanatos what he did, had I, a senior Master with far more experience than he, not assured him with all my knowledge and logical persuasion that it would be well to do so. "Anyway, read the reports, listen to my personal logs. Draw your own conclusions, as I'm sure you would do without my permission. Then try to understand this: we never found Xanatos. He escaped with very few leads, none of them fruitful. This knowledge has haunted your master for all the days and years since then. The whole incident changed him from the man I knew then to the man you know now. The change was not totally for the better. "The work you have joined yourself to will be defined by far more laws than the more normal works of the Order has. You will be expected to obey and abide by them at all times. One of those laws is that no one, NO ONE! below the rank of senior Padawan is to be introduced to the ideas we work with. In fact, you are the youngest to be taken among us and that only because you are…quite extraordinary, to say the least. Still, you should read and listen. You must. I hope you are frightened by what you learn, for all that fear is a negative emotion. I hope it scares the socks clean off you. This is the power of the Dark Side." Obi-Wan shut the lightslate off. He'd heard the rest and didn't think he had the stomach to listen to it again. Not yet. A moment's rest and he'd continue. Maybe. Obi-Wan didn't really think he could stand to hear them again. Some of the personal logs were verbal. Most of the ones that were… he couldn't be absolutely certain, but he'd be willing to wager that the person weeping in the background was his own Master. Qui-Gon Jinn, weeping as if his heart had been broken. It probably had been. Kourt got his wish. The story of Xanatos, his final mission as a Jedi, the breakdown, the turning, the attempted murder, the horrible, horrible aftermath of the fight, the chase, losing him in the outer rim, all of it. Obi-Wan was deeply frightened, deeply upset by what he now knew. He drew himself up into a lotus pose and began his meditations. The first step would be to release those fears to the Force. The second would be re-pledging every oath he had ever taken as a Jedi Learner, beginning with the Code and working his way through every guideline and law he could think of. He checked the angle of the suns, making sure he still had time before he must meet his master. Obi-Wan briefly wondered if Qui-Gon would look any different to him. He drew in a breath, released it, pushing all fear out of himself and into the Force. He gathered himself, found his center easily, almost reflexively and began building his own citadel against the darkness that had so undone his Master's second apprentice and almost claimed Qui-Gon himself. *I will never hurt you that way, my Master. Never.* *************************************** Qui-Gon hated the detention center. It was, bar none, the most sterile, ugly place he had ever been in. The thick walls and near-subliminal white noise did nothing to block the echoes, signatures left in the Force from what had happened in this place. Things that were happening again. Obi-Wan walked silently at his side, hands behind his back as if he'd been asked a question and was waiting permission to answer. His eyes took in everything. Qui-Gon was sure he was using his other senses to analyze his surroundings. A door opened and closed somewhere down a hall still before them and a single, keening moan was heard for a moment before it was cut off once more. "Hmm." Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon shivered. Cord Random appeared around the corner, being pushed backwards by a not-very-serene-looking Kourt Crowe. Kourt was hissing imprecations, accusations that were easily heard by the nearing Master and Padawan. "I have told you once already. You are not to be down here without supervision from one of your shepherds. Your apprentice is not to be down here at all! Anakin!" At that summons, the small blonde boy pelted around the corner and took his place next to Cord. "Both of you will go to the Council Antechamber. Both of you will wait for us to arrive for our report. Neither of you will go anywhere else or speak to anyone until I have given you leave to do so. Is that understood, Knight Random?" Kourt's glare all but dared him to be defiant. "Yes, Master Crowe," Cord murmured. He took Anakin by the hand and led him past Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon sighed. "Was that really necessary, Kourt?" "You're damn right it was," Kourt growled. "Come on, we need to get started." Qui-Gon fell in step beside Kourt, trying to ignore the twinges in his still-healing ankle. He looked back once to double-check that Obi-Wan followed. Kourt led them to one of the side-rooms, not one of the holding rooms proper. Gathered there was Master Ar'thapa, Knight Hunter, Knight Tradian, Jenji and Swed. They were sitting properly on the various chairs and sofas, looking for all the world as if they were about to enter into pitched battle. Qui-Gon sighed again. "Obi-Wan, go sit with the other Padawans," he instructed, taking a seat near the door. Kourt stood before them all, ready to begin. "We will be working with Torlamin more deeply now. It will require all skill and delicacy. It will be dangerous, potentially deadly to someone without absolute control of themselves and their skill. For this reason, the Padawans will remain here, excluded from this session." It spoke well of their training that no apprentice raised a protest. "The rest of you will serve as my anchors while I work. When I have done what I can, Qui-Gon and I will go to the Council and make our report. Hopefully, we will return with good news. While we are gone, Obi-Wan will stay with Master Ar'thapa and not leave her supervision until Qui-Gon fetches him." Kourt fixed each individual with a steady look until he had received an acknowledgment of assent. "Torlamin is in the observation room. Let us go there now." Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a reassuring smile before standing to leave with the others. Although his Padawan looked somewhat surprised, he returned the smile immediately. Kourt unlocked the observation room door and led the way in. Torlamin had stopped screaming, was curled up in a corner of the room. Her hair was wild, eyes tired but defiant. She seemed to have herself under some kind of control, but of what duration Qui-Gon could not tell. *She looks like nine different flavors of hell,* he thought. Her eyes fixed on him and he felt, almost SAW the attack before it came. Painful whipchords of inky blackness tore at him. He moved swiftly, cutting through them with Light energy of his own. Torlamin growled once and subsided. Kourt looked back at him. "Good. She'll not hurt you, now." Qui-Gon shook his head in disbelief. Just days ago he had worked with this woman, brought a mission to success with her help. Now she was near-feral, mentally and emotionally shredded by the battle being fought within her. Pure madness was claiming her, that much was clear. "Kourt, are you sure? We're Jedi, not magicians…" "We have to try. Duty demands the fullest effort," Kourt reminded him. "I accept that, totally, but we can't go in there and unbend the road, you know. She's taken a path and we can not unmake that," Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head. "I think this is an exercise in futility." Kourt made no reply, nor did any of the others. They ranged out in a semicircle around her, Kourt seated closest and directly in front of her. "Rue, good day. We've come to try and help you. Will you let us?" She snarled. Qui-Gon knelt down, centering himself, opened his mind to Kourt's touch, letting his strength be guided by the other Master. He felt the low-grade jolts as the others also surrendered to their leader. Qui-Gon could not clearly see what Kourt was doing. It was as if he watched from a distance and through the hazy lens of Kourt's mind. But by watching the captive woman, he could see that the action was having effect. Her eyes began to clear, she sat more naturally and her mouth relaxed from the snarl it had adopted. Then Qui-Gon felt the tug of Kourt's thoughts and answered them. //What can I do?// <> Qui-Gon saw what it was that needed shoring up. Some part of Torlamin's memory had become so twisted that reality and fantasy had blended into a nightmare montage of fear and suffering. Kourt had erected a thin wall of shields, a block on her recall that might make her a little easier to deal with. Qui-Gon withdrew control from Kourt and began working on those shields. Around him, he felt similar work being done by the others, some anchoring Kourt, others carrying out tasks to heal or repair the mind they worked in. After a long moment he showed his project to Kourt. He received a sense of approval and was shown another repair to effect. This was more difficult. Somewhere Torlamin had dreamed up incidents between herself and Obi-Wan that could never have possibly happened. Pitched battles, sexual encounters, scenes of bloody abuse with her as aggressor, victim, helpless onlooker, paying customer. Qui-Gon's gorge rose as he simply undid the chemical signatures that had created those memories. He unmade them at the most basic level, that they might never be seen or heard of again. Except in his own mind. He had seen, he knew…perhaps he might have to always remember. Again his stomach rebelled. He felt the comfort of the others swaddle him in love and gentleness, soothing his revulsion, putting her mad thoughts at a remove from his own, giving himself distance from their violent reality. He pulled his mind away then, brought himself under control behind mental shields. He looked down, realized that his hands were shaking. "I forgot it was so hard," he heard himself whisper into the otherwise silent room. "It's okay," Kourt murmured, as if speaking out in his sleep. After a moment Qui-Gon extended himself back into the torn and broken mind of Rue Torlamin, began checking and re-checking the places of healing as Kourt directed him. After a long moment, they stepped back to look. A sigh of disappointment escaped Qui-Gon's lips. "It's the best we can do," Kourt admitted. A touch of mourning colored his words. "It won't hold. She doesn't want it to. See, she's already fighting against the blocks," Teril pointed out. It was true. Although there was no malice in her, no desire to attack, Rue Torlamin had already sensed the fact that changes had been made to her mind. She looked up at the others. "Hello." Kourt bowed to her. "Hello." "Is there something wrong? I don't feel well. My mind feels…wrong," her voice was raw, bitter, on the edge of accusation. Kourt put on his most bland expression. "Master Torlamin, you have been… in touch with the Dark Side for some long time now. It has affected your …I'm sorry. It has affected your sanity. We have had to take drastic measures, alter and remove parts of your memories, block off other ideas and concepts from you. We are only trying to help, honestly. You are in grave danger." "Where is my Padawan? Bring her to me now," Rue demanded, panic lacing her words. Qui-Gon was shocked by the next words his friend spoke. "You have no Padawan, Rue Torlamin." Torlamin's eyes widened with shock, then unfocused as she searched within herself. "She's…dead?" "No, Master Torlamin. Your bond was severed when you embraced the Dark Force. You know a bond of the Light can not bear such stresses," Kourt spoke low and slowly. "No. No, you've done something to her, something to us! Bring her to me! I demand the bond be re-forged!" Anger welled up in Rue's soul, a burning, hateful creature. She struggled, tried to release it to the Force, finally doing so after a long moment's battle. "No, Master Torlamin. Not until we are absolutely certain that it would be for the best," Jayden spoke up. The even stares of all five Jedi drove this insistence home. For a moment Torlamin wavered on the edge of acceptance. Then one tear rolled down her face and she tumbled into a pit of deep despair. Kourt sighed and rose from his seat on the floor. "Well, it's better than it was, but…" Felias shrugged. "It's nowhere near to being good enough. And I don't know if we can do any better with her." Kourt shook his head. "What do we do, then?" Qui-Gon asked. "Well, the others go get some rest. You and I go to the Council and ask them to grant us the powers of the Left Hand." Qui-Gon sucked in his breath. "You can't be serious. We haven't asked for that since…" The sentence didn't need to be completed. The last time the Left Hand was granted against anyone, it had been against Qui-Gon's own student. They stopped in the hallway, watching him struggle with the concept. "No, you're right. It may well come to that. Best to be prepared," he finally agreed. Kourt stepped close, pulling Qui-Gon into a strong hug. "Thank you, my friend. I know this is not easy for you. It seems that nothing ever is, in your life." A soft kiss brushed across Qui-Gon's brow. "It is the Will of the Force. It must be accepted," he sighed. Suddenly he felt quite rung out, ready for a nap. "Come on, we'd better head on up to the Chambers." "Yeah, fastest started, soonest done," Kourt agreed, keeping a companionable arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders. After a moment the embrace was reciprocated. "Teril, do see that Obi-Wan eats. He has missed a lot of sleep and tends to lose his appetite when he's tired," Qui-Gon requested. "Sure, Quigs. No problem," the other master assured him. As they made their way to the lift, Qui-Gon began ordering his thoughts for the meeting ahead.