morgynleri: Always keep clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark on a picture of Sting from The Hobbit (clothesweapons)
I got so many words yesterday, both on the Highlander fic and on an edit of the story from which yesterday's snippet was taken. Still stuck where it left off, but part of that is I wasn't the one writing Matthew McCormick, and I need to go do a rewatch of a Highlander episode to write him. Or find someone else who can write him and is willing to pick up a collaborative AU where I no longer have contact with the original co-author.

(Either one works, and if someone is interested, hit me up.)
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PACKAGE! *cackles with glee and runs around triumphantly with the DVDs*

There was an issue with I actually paid for faster shipping that would have different packaging than what arrived, but getting a refund for the shipping was pretty painless.

I got words yesterday, but I'm not going to share a snippet today, because it's a parallel story to my HLH, and until reveals, I'm not going to share. (If I can get it written by the time reveals happen, I will be posting it to AO3 promptly after that.)

And now I am going to go do some more writing, and work on ripping myself a backup of my new DVDs, and then I'm going to settle in to watch Magnificent Seven (the TV show), because I want my nostalgia and some throwing of virtual popcorn.
morgynleri: overkill is just the right amount of kill (overkill)
I ain't dead. The numbers on the scales of pain and fatigue are high, the mental health one is moderate, and I would very much like people to STOP PLAYING LOUD ASS MUSIC AS YOU DRIVE BY YOU ASSHOLES. Because that shit is painful. As in it spikes the day's pain from 6 to 8 today. And my ears cannot cope with the earbuds or the headphones today, which does not help.

I have at least managed to get breakfast today. And my meds. And I finally managed to get the water pitcher refilled, so hopefully I will get more water in this evening than I did during the day. Also, I have food in my instant pot, so I will have dinner.

No words yet today, but I might be able to get some before bed. I really hope so. Either filling out the one scene that's entirely dialogue at the moment, or doing dialogue for the scenes that are rough sketched notes. Because it's a story that needs done by the end of the month. I can do that. I only have a maximum of four more scenes. (find the mcguffin, deal with the other people looking for it, skewer a monster, everyone gets together and goes 'the fuck' and 'no one else needs to know how this is getting filed')

Will I get it done in time to have anyone do more than a spellcheck/sanity check? Possibly, if unlikely because Reasons. But done by the deadline? That I'm still certain I can do.
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It would be rude to destroy the room Amidala has so generously offered, but Obi-Wan doesn't think the Sith care. At the moment, he's not sure if he cares about it more than in the abstract. He thinks he'd regret it later, though, no matter what apologies or explanations he might give her.

We can save destruction for later. The female Sith rolls her eyes, and takes another look around the room. If you insist. There isn't much furniture in here to destroy, not that's worth saving.

"You mean, that's to your tastes?" Obi-Wan opens his eyes briefly, looking over the furniture long enough to fix it in his mind, then closing his eyes and decorating the mental image with it. He could move some of it from the main room to the bedroom, probably, though it will leave little room to move in there. Perhaps for the best, since he would really rather not have company.

Too late.

"I know." Obi-Wan shakes his head at the female Sith, and opens his eyes again. His cloak is in the hanger, and he doesn't particularly want it back right now. It's one less layer of clothing to shed before moving the furniture he can fit through the door on his own.

He leaves his tunics, sash, and belt on the bed, and begins with moving the furniture in the bedroom as far away from the door as he can manage. It's more tiring than he expects, even with the duel, ferocious and horrible as it had been. There's enough energy running through him, he would think he could manage this much.

If you used it, you might.

"And if I used it right now, would I do myself more harm than good?"

Probably. The female Sith sounds irritated. Are you going to completely exhaust yourself before you let us teach you anything?

Obi-Wan pauses, leaning against the couch he's planning to move into the bedroom, closing his eyes so he can see the Sith. "Is there a way to teach me anything you intend to teach me without risking destruction on some scale?"

She looks away a moment, a small frown crossing her face. There is more than one path to learning. More if you turn outward than if you turn inward. Destruction and death, or the pain of another. Pain of the self. Destruction of the self to incorporate new knowledge - fracturing of your mind and rebuilding the fragments into someone else. I do not recommend the last one. It's more often used on others, anyway.

He'd prefer not to shatter his mind more than he already feels it has been, either, but it had not been what caught his attention. "How does self-harm make it possible to learn how to control this?"

The female Sith watches him for a long moment, before she rolls up her sleeves, revealing twining black tattoos in an eerie echo of those on the Zabrak. Or you could draw blood, and learn the blood magics first, but I did say we were going to attempt to keep you sane.

Obi-Wan takes a step closer, fixing his attention on the tattoos, reaching out to try to touch before he remembers there is nothing solid to touch. Studying instead with eyes and Force, trying to figure out how the ink beneath her skin - the image of her skin - will help.

They're as much spell-work as they are ink, Jedi. The female Sith snorts, a small smile twisting her lips a moment. I'd ask if you had any such things, but I've never seen any Jedi with tattoos, so I expect not.

"Not that I'm aware of. How?"

Get someone to bring you ink and a needle, and I'll show you. I'd do it myself, but there are some things which are beyond even the best of us after we no longer have a body to manipulate things with.

He's not sure if he's glad the Sith cannot do anything he doesn't choose to do himself, or frustrated by knowing he'll have to manage it all himself with mirrors if he runs out of skin he can easily see.

You shouldn't, not before we're off this planet. And by then, you might not need the needle.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes a moment before closing them again to see the Sith. "Why won't I need the needle?" She hadn't said he wouldn't need ink, so he doesn't think it will be that he'll have moved beyond the pain. And to even think that makes him want to reach for the familiar Force, even as the familiar eludes him.

Not all tattoos use needles, and some don't use knives either. She laughs at what she sees on his face, and Obi-Wan turns away, not certain what to feel, or that he wants her to see it. I'll teach you how to drive the ink into the skin without needle or knife later. It's less useful for this purpose, anyway. She pauses, letting out a quiet sigh. Less painful.

And pain is part of Sith training. Obi-Wan opens his eyes, staring almost blindly out the wide window he's facing. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to dive deeper into the darkness. And yet if he fights it, if he tries to ignore it, the Sith has assured him it will drive him mad - and he can feel her certainty in the Force, can almost feel that end trying to reach out with greedy fingers for him.

Warmth on his shoulder makes him lean a little into Qui-Gon's familiar touch, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to the outside world again. "Is there anything that can be a brief lesson without the pain? I don't know how long it will take to get ink and needles."

Or a knife, though which would be easier, he isn't certain.

If you're willing to destroy at least something in here, rude to your hostess or no. The Sith lets out a frustrated little sound. Does he always dither like this?

No. Qui-Gon squeezes Obi-Wan's shoulder. I don't think he's dithering now, either.

"I'd prefer not to destroy anything, but I can more readily justify destroying furniture than anything else. And I need at least some small measure of control before I dare ask Her Highness for anything, even something as small as ink suitable for tattoos. Especially if I have to explain any of it to her."

Why... no. Never mind. You're a Jedi still, in thought, if not in fact. The Sith is silent for a long moment, chill radiating from where she stands. What do you plan to tell her?

Obi-Wan shrugs. "The truth."
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What spell? Qui-Gon is at least able to ask a question. Obi-Wan is still trying to decide if he wants to believe this makes everything more real, or if this is just his mind fracturing further.

The Gift of Bane. It's a spell to tie the consciousnesses of all Sith to the current Sith Master. The female Sith smiles, the expression razor-sharp. So there can only be one Master. He hadn't figured out how to modify it to ensure there would only be one Apprentice.

How does it designate Sith?

I'm not sure if it does. Not the dead, anyway. The living, by killing a Sith. The female Sith shrugs, tilting her head as she looks at Qui-Gon. And perhaps I was wrong about how it caught you up, though I do wonder if it would have if you'd been a proper Jedi. Proper and willing to give up everything you were in life to be one with the Force.

Obi-Wan snorts, drawing their attention to him. "My Master never was terribly good at proper."

He watches Qui-Gon, the details of him as clear in this mental projection as they had been in life. That the female Sith is equally as clear and detailed is something he's not quite certain of. She looks like no one he knows, living or dead, and it nudges him a little closer to the idea that this isn't his mind fracturing, but real. And that is terrifying in its own right.

"Do you think your exploration of how to keep a consciousness intact after death is what made this happen?" He has no idea what would do this, why his Master is trapped by something otherwise populated by Sith. Why Qui-Gon is so wrapped up in this darkness when he should be free of it. It's Obi-Wan who'd sprung the trap all unwitting, he should be the only one to pay for the mistake.

It's possible. Qui-Gon shrugs, squeezing Obi-Wan's knee even though all it seems to do is pass his fingers through flesh, leaving a strange tingle in their wake. I won't know until we know more about this Sith spell that has entangled us both.

"If there's any source of information about..."

Obi-Wan is cut off by a quiet rap on the door he's leaning against, and he freezes, words drying in his throat.

"Hello?" The voice is female and vaguely familiar, and it takes an embarrassingly long moment for Obi-Wan to place it as one of the handmaidens who'd been with them on the ship. "Obi-Wan, are you in there?"

It seems she remembers his name better than he does hers, and Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, swallowing as he tries to summon up some semblance of calm. The stillness he'd found earlier has been deeply cracked by the interruption, and the niggling thought that he has spent the last unknown amount of time talking to himself.

Qui-Gon's hand is still warm on his knee, and Obi-Wan takes another deep breath, trying to hold onto the hope that it's real, no matter what his eyes say when he opens them to nothing but shadows and vague shapes.

"I..." It's all he can get out, and Obi-Wan feels a sense of panic welling up in him. What is he supposed to tell her? Tell any of them?

The door opens behind him, toppling Obi-Wan out onto the cold stone of the floor, blinking against the sudden light. One of the handmaidens is indeed there, looking down at him with a worried expression that he's not sure he warrants.

"We found Master Jinn's body in the power station, and the Zabrak you were fighting. Her Highness told us to find you, to make sure you hadn't fallen deeper into the station."

Obi-Wan shakes his head mutely, not quite being able to find the words to reassure her when he's not confident of his state of mind. Not certain, even, that he wants to, though that feels almost foreign, as if it's not entirely his own thought.

What would be the point of reassuring her that you're fine when you're not. Even that Force-blind child can see it!

The female Sith's voice is not entirely welcome or reassuring, but it's becoming at least familiar.

"Her Highness has arranged for a room for you for as long as you need it." The handmaiden holds out a hand, and after a moment, Obi-Wan takes it, letting her help pull him to his feet. "And as soon as communications are restored, she'll make sure you can contact the Jedi Council."

He can't manage to hide his shudder at the idea of facing the Jedi Council right now, though he at least manages not to recoil. And that, he's certain, is all him. There's too much he isn't sure of, too much risk, to face the Council right now.

The handmaiden takes his shudder in a stride, giving him a small, sympathetic smile, letting go of his hand easily. "I'll show you where the room is. It's better than a maintenance closet, I promise."

She doesn't say anything else as she escorts him through the palace, showing him rooms which are as large as any diplomatic suite he's used, and larger than many. He can feel the approval from the female Sith, and the disdain from the Zabrak, as well as Qui-Gon's steady presence, as he has the entire walk here.

"Thank you." He manages to at least quirk the corners of his mouth up for a moment, though Obi-Wan thinks the expression is less reassuring than he was trying for. At least the handmaiden smiles back, and leaves him alone with his thoughts and voices.

This is a nice enough place to begin from. Might even be enough room to start teaching you at least a little about what the Dark Side actually is. The female Sith is prowling the edges of the main room when he closes his eyes, a smug smirk on her face. And keep you from fracturing.
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"... entire galaxy mourns with Naboo over the loss of their beloved Senator Amidala." Anakin catches the tail-end of the holo-cast as he walks into the small galley and lounge space, Leia sleeping on his shoulder again. She'd woken soon after they'd left Polis Massa, and fussed until Anakin had picked her up off the bunk she and Luke were resting on.

Padmé is sitting on one side of the small table, Master Windu on the other, both watching a news holo-cast with frustrated expressions.

"How far does that holo-cast reach?" Anakin slides onto the bench next to Padmé as she scoots over to give him room. "Will we even be able to go to Tatooine?" He doesn't want to go back there, but the only other places he considers safe may not be. Serenno, Belkadan, Yavin.

"I don't know."

Padmé thumbs the projector back to the beginning of the holo-cast, letting Anakin see all of it. The coverage of the funeral for a corpse that could barely be seen under the stiff, formal garb it had been dressed in, and a face that was artfully made-up to appear like Padmé's face. Anakin hopes they didn't kill Sabé just to create a corpse for this staged horror show. When the segment is finished, she pauses it again, watching Anakin.

"I don't think it's safe for us to go to Naboo, even if the Queen doesn't believe that to be me." Padmé glances down, her emotions uncertain. "And while Tatooine is ruled by the Hutts, I know they still get at least some holocasts in the major settlements. I don't know how much anyone else would know. Or even if it would be safe for us to go to anyone else on Tatooine."

"Why would you think to go there, anyway?" Anakin can feel the same faded grief he had earlier, and he's curious now. "Did Vader ever go back there, once he'd gotten free?"

"Once." Padmé's grief is visible on her face, and she closes her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. "He'd been having nightmares about his mother. He wanted to save her. She was taken by Tuskens, and killed by them."

Anakin reaches the hand not supporting Leia out, and Padmé grips it, letting him share her grief - and his own, to know that here, his mother is dead rather than missing. He had hoped that maybe there was this one small thing, but perhaps that is a constant, no matter where he might go, that he has lost his mother too soon in every universe.

"Tuskens don't raid the larger settlements. Had Watto sold her?"

Padmé nods. "And she'd been freed. She married a moisture farmer, Cleigg Lars. She was on the farm when she was taken."

"She died free." Anakin smiles a little, a fierce joy running through his grief. "Free, not still a slave."

Master Windu is watching him with a small frown on his face. "That's important?"

"Always." Anakin looks between Master Windu and Padmé, though Padmé seems less confused. "If you die free, you die your own. On your terms, not those of the master. You're allowed to die."

And if his mother had died free, someone had done what he'd promised he would do one day. What he would have done if she'd been alive and in need of that rescue now, what Vader had failed as much as Anakin in doing.

"My mother isn't free. I don't know where she was sold to, beyond into the Empire. I would have gone looking for her, if I hadn't ended up here."

"Oh, Anakin." Padmé squeezes his hand. "I wish I could have told you something better."

"I know." Anakin squeezes back, sending her a gentle wave of reassurance. "So, have you and Mas... Mace, had any luck deciding where to go, since we can't go to Naboo or Tatooine?"
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Oh, you'll need to leave sooner than that. What are the Jedi going to do when they hear one of their own has died here?

"Expect me to return to Coruscant." Obi-Wan doesn't say that they'll expect him to return with Qui-Gon's body. Saying it makes it more real, and he isn't certain he's ready for that. "They might want to knight me. For killing a Sith."

That provokes amusement from both the Zabrak and the woman.

Do they have any idea what they're inviting?

There is precedence. Qui-Gon sounds contemplative, and Obi-Wan turns his head slightly, as he would have before the fight with the Zabrak Sith. From before the Ruusan Reforms. A Padawan who faced a Sith and survived would be knighted, with the fight treated as their Trials.

So the Jedi have always been fools. The Zabrak smiles, baring sharpened teeth. No wonder my Master thought it time to reveal our continued existence to you.

"It didn't save you." Obi-Wan bears his teeth at the Zabrak in return, a fierce rush of satisfaction running through him. Even if he has been graced with some strange mental breakdown, he had at least taken down Qui-Gon's killer.

Oh, that is good. Now you just need to learn to use that. The woman smiles approvingly, and Obi-Wan leans away from her, the satisfaction draining away to leave a sick feeling in its wake. And to keep it. Enjoy it. You're not a Jedi anymore; you don't need to adhere to their foolish dictates about serenity and putting aside emotions.

"Jedi are allowed to feel. We're encouraged to understand our feelings. And to let go of anger and fear, so they don't lead us to hatred or darkness." Obi-Wan wishes he could let go of any of his emotions right now, but they keep roiling, refusing to be examined or released into the Force.

And when anger is the difference between action and passive destruction? When fear means survival? Do they discourage those as well? The woman scowls, her eyes flashing with banked passion. Do the Jedi even care about anything outside their own precious Temple?

"If the Jedi didn't care, we wouldn't be here in the first place." Obi-Wan lets his head thump back against the closet door. "Compassion is part of being a Jedi."

Compassion. The woman snorts. Compassion does as much harm as it ever does any good. Compassion keeps a family together only to destroy them. Compassion kills indiscriminately, and doesn't care for the grief it leaves in its wake.

Obi-Wan turns his head toward her, frowning. "What do you mean?"

If you saw several members of a species driven mad would you kill every one of them as a perceived mercy?

"Not unless it were necessary to defend myself and others, and then only if those afflicted were actively violent." Obi-Wan's frown deepens, and he tries again to reach the Force, to see if he can find anything to guide him through this. It's still all murk and shadow, impossible to see through. "Is this just theoretical?"

No. And you make a poor Jedi if you let them live. The woman sounds bitterly angry, and Obi-Wan wonders who she is - and what had happened that she believed that.

That is not a Jedi ideal, nor has ever been. Qui-Gon moves, settling where he can easily talk to both Obi-Wan and the female Sith. It's happened as an expediency during periods of war, but those were not actions that would have been condoned by the Council. He pauses, looking thoughtful. Or should not have been, even in a period of war.



And when would have the Jedi who committed that genocide have cared to even tell their Council, much less heeded any censure they might have given? Any punishment?



"What good does censure even do?" Obi-Wan isn't sure he wants to agree with the Sith, but in this much, as least, he's terribly familiar with what effect censure from the Council could have on a Jedi. Or rather, the lack of effect. "Those who care about the Council's opinion aren't going to do anything they're likely to get a censure for, and those who are willing to do things the Council are likely to censure are unlikely to care about it."

It's not just about the person who goes against the decrees of the Council. Qui-Gon reaches out to rest a hand on Obi-Wan's knee a moment. It's also about those around them, who might have a greater chance of changing the behavior of the one censured.

"About me, as much as it was about you." Obi-Wan bares his teeth, surprised at the anger that wells up at the thought that the Council was punishing him as much as they were Qui-Gon, even when he'd argued against whatever action had driven them to distraction this time, and ultimately had no authority over what Qui-Gon did.

You've earned the disapproval of your Jedi Council? The female Sith tilts her head, studying Qui-Gon. Perhaps that's how the spell caught you up with it.

"What?" Obi-Wan asks the question almost in unison with Qui-Gon, turning his head to stare at the female Sith.
morgynleri: mostly pink with yellow and light blue background with black text reading 'criticize by creating' (Default)
None of the WIPs was working today, including the two prompts I still am working on filling. But I wanted to write something, and... well, this is what came out. Thank you to [Bad username or unknown identity: lferion​] for cheerleading and for the inspiration for the AU in #4.

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Five First Meetings - Finis Valorum & Qui-Gon Jinn

AU: A Wealth of Shadows, Last Stand of Valor, We Are Defiance, AU NOS, and Emperor Dooku
Word Count: 2000
Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Finis Valorum, Magistar Aridi Karrel, Ruzalk, Dooku, unnamed Senator, Chakel
Timeframe: All of these are when Qui-Gon is 17-25, and Finis of similar age.




A Wealth of Shadows

"And this is Senator Valorum. A promising young man, much like yourself, Knight Jinn."

Qui-Gon keeps a smile on his face from practice under Dooku's watchful eye, though he's increasingly disgruntled by being at this gala. If he weren't certain this was where they needed to be, he'd have suggested to Ruzalk they leave at least an hour ago.

"Knight Jinn." Valorum gives him a practiced politician's smile, bowing slightly in greeting. He turns his head to their host. "Thank you, Magistar, for the introduction."

"Oh, it is nothing." Magistar Karrel smiles brightly and with all the sincerity she's had all night behind it. Qui-Gon isn't certain how she manages to be so enthusiastic after so many hours of absolutely stultifying conversation and constant flitting around to make sure of her guests. "I just think you two will get along splendidly."

Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow, but Magistar Karrel just winks at him before bustling off in a whirl of silks and perfume, already focusing on someone else with a cheerful call of greeting.

"Has she been like that all evening?" Valorum draws Qui-Gon's attention back to him, and the Senator smiles, this time a little more genuinely.

"It is apparently a gift of hers." Qui-Gon shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I was rude earlier."

"If you've been here for longer than I have, I can't blame you." Valorum keeps a polite smile on his face, but his voice is low, and there's an undercurrent of bored frustration in the Force when Qui-Gon reaches out to sense what the Senator is feeling. Well camoflagued, but still present.

"I believe there's a garden, though I don't know how interesting it is at this time of night."

Valorum chuckles, tilting his head for Qui-Gon to lead the way. "Mostly interesting to those seeking assignations, I'd expect. It could be entertaining to find out who is meeting with who."

Entertaining, and useful. Qui-Gon sends a queary along the bond he's built with Ruzalk, getting back lazy amusement tinged with curiosity. He lets her see his thoughts, the idea that it might be welcome for her to join them, if she wants. He gets back laughter and indulgence, and a sincere lack of desire to interrupt his fun.

Grinning, Qui-Gon leads Valorum out into the gardens, and murmurs to the Senator where to find the first couple to interrupt.




Last Stand of Valor

"Hello, gorgeous."

Qui-Gon blinks at the tall young woman who has attatched herself to his side and grabbed one of his arms to wrap it around her waist. She's very pretty, but he hadn't intended to make any assignations while he was here, and especially not when his Master is somewhere else on the planet waiting for him to do the investigation he can do that Dooku couldn't without looking desperately out of place.

"Just pretend for a little while that you know me. Very well." She smiles up at him, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips, and lingers close. "I am going to throttle an idiot if I don't have a distraction, and a Jedi makes for a very safe distraction."

"What makes you think I'm a Jedi?" Qui-Gon keeps his voice as low as possible, though that's barely less than a shout in the noise of the club. He will be very glad to get out of here.

"Even in civvies, you Jedi have this... something." She shrugs, resting her head on his shoulder, and tracing his lips with one finger. It lets her get close enough to his ear that she's not actually shouting.

Qui-Gon leans in to press a quick kiss next to her ear. "I don't even know your name."

"Finis Valorum. Senator's aide, currently wishing my Senator didn't have a taste for loud clubs and pretty young women, preferably those who don't have much choice in letting him paw over them if they want a career in politics." The woman's mouth twists in a wry smile. "As I said, an idiot in need of throttling."

He blinks, and tightens his arm around Valorum's waist. "Qui-Gon Jinn. Your Senator wouldn't happen to be the current one from Lytton Sector?"

"Now how would you guess that?" Valorum nips at his earlobe, and he can feel her vibrating with amusement under his hand. "Let's get out of here. Somewhere quieter, more private."

Qui-Gon doesn't need much encouragement, and he pulls Valorum with him, grinning and giggling, to the exit. The street immediately outside isn't much quieter than inside, but it's not far to a hovercar, and the waiting frown of his Master.

"Finis Valorum, Master Dooku. Master, this is Finis Valorum, senator's aide for the Lytton sector." Qui-Gon slides into the back, drawing Finis with him. "I think you should listen to her."




We Are Defiance

He knows what rises around him, in a deep and rich lapis streaked with silver that creates the impression of great wings and a bird that he remembers in tales from his youth. He never expects to see anything around anyone else, and to see some antlered beast in dappled greens and bronze surrounding a Jedi, of all people... well. Never let it be said Finis Valorum doesn't know when to take a hint.

"Finis Valorum, Senator for the Lytton Sector." He introduces himself as soon as it seems polite to do so, giving the Jedi a smile that's several shades warmer than the politician's smile he gives everyone else.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight." Qui-Gon is watching him with a curious expression, and Finis glances up slightly, as if to meet the gaze of the creature that surrounds the Jedi. It makes Qui-Gon raise his eyebrows, and smile.

Finis tilts his head to the side, and lets Qui-Gon lead the way to one of the alcoves that line the room for a little extra privacy.

"You can see it, can't you?" Qui-Gon isn't one for diplomatic subtlety, and Finis rather likes that. "No one should be able to."

"I've never seen one around anyone, and never expected to. A politician cannot afford to get close to many people, if they can afford to get close to anyone." He's always heard to see someone's soul is an indication they'll be the deepest love of a person's life, but he'd begun to doubt that when he was still little more than a youngling. "And the rumor is that no Jedi has one, because Jedi have no souls."

That he has never believed, though he's always been curious why that tale is told. Maybe to warn people away from Jedi, to keep them from hoping a Jedi will fall in love with them. At least at home. Here, who knows?

"A carefully cultivated belief." Qui-Gon looks a little uncomfortable saying those words, but whatever the cause, it doesn't stop him. "I've never known anyone outside the Jedi who could see what we hide."

"The will of the Force, perhaps?" Finis shrugs, smiling briefly. "What do the Jedi say about those who see the soul of a person?"

"Of those who aren't Jedi?" Qui-Gon echoes Finis's earlier gesture. "Nothing. Among the Jedi, only that there is a connection between those who see each other."




AU NOS

Qui-Gon has never been off his planet in his life, though there are plenty of chances to leave if he wanted to. He's never wanted to leave, never needed to leave. Now he's driven to leave, and he follows that push, taking passage to another world, one he doesn't recognize the name of. He doesn't need to know that, only needs to know what to do to fix what feels wrong.

Afterward, he's not terribly interested in staying and being cheered for doing what needed done, but the instincts he's trusted all his life say stay, so he does. Uncertain why he's to stay, but this is where he needs to be still, and he hopes it's worth the raucous celebrations that are very different from the quieter things at home.

When officials come from Coreward, he contemplates slipping away for only a moment, before he straightens, lifting his chin as they approach him and those with him.

"Finis Valorum, I was asked to come here to mediate a dispute." Valorum looks over the group Qui-Gon stands with, and a small, wry smile crosses his face. "I see I was mistaken?"

"We did ask for help from the Republic, but the Wizard came sooner." Chakel widens their eyes, their crest puffing up with pride. "There is no more need for a Republic negotiator. You are welcome the night, and to see what the Wizard has done, but you need not worry there shall be too much for you to accomplish."

"I am glad you were able to find assistance, and I apologize for not arriving sooner." Valorum bows his head, spreading his hands politely, before looking up again, studying Qui-Gon. "If it is not too much a burden, I would ask to learn how you managed what I was told would be a very difficult, if not impossible task."

Qui-Gon shrugs, a small smile quirking his lips at the feel of Valorum. He likes how this person feels. "I just did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less."

Valorum smiles, amusement coloring his presence a bright and happy green. "Perhaps we can discuss what was the right thing over dinner, if that is acceptable to you?"

This, or something more, and Qui-Gon thinks he might enjoy whatever something more Valorum might have in mind. He tilts his head, beckoning Valorum to come with him. This should be fun.




Emperor Dooku

He is seventeen, and on his first mission alone while his Master takes personal time. Qui-Gon has no interest in what is probably happening, and he's glad there was something that shouldn't take more than one Senior Padawan. Even if this is making him quite certain he doesn't like politics, no matter how much playing them is important.

"It helps if you imagine them in someone else's robes." A young man - one of the Senators' aides, and Qui-Gon wishes he'd paid a little more attention to the names - has sidled up next to where he's hiding near the buffet table. "At least it's more amusing than listening to them pontificate on nothing."

Qui-Gon slides a look over at the young man, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going into politics as a career?"

"Yes." The young man shrugs, picking up a piece of fruit off the table, popping it into his mouth with a small grin. "It means I know what I'm talking about when I say they're pontificating on nothing. More than most politicians, at least the worst of them." He pauses, fishing a handkerchief out of a pocket to wipe his hands before offering one to Qui-Gon. "Finis Valorum."

"Qui-Gon Jinn." Qui-Gon takes the offered hand with a smile of his own. "Jedi Padawan."

"I know." Finis reaches out to gently tug at the end of Qui-Gon's braid. "I studied about the Jedi as well as about who's who in the Senate before I came to Coruscant."

Qui-Gon feels his cheeks heat, and Finis grins at him again, tugging the end of the braid once more.

"How much longer are you supposed to stand here and look decorative?" Finis glances out at the senators and aides and sychophants, drawing Qui-Gon's attention to them as well. They're not nearly so interesting as Finis.

"Until the end of the gala." Qui-Gon keeps from making a face, if only barely.

"I'll stay with you then." Finis grins again, taking a step closer to lean a shoulder against Qui-Gon's a moment. "Come to my place after?"

Qui-Gon blinks and thinks a moment before he nods. "Yes."

He doesn't make it back to the Temple before morning, but it's worth the frowns from some of the Council over his failing to make a report immediately after the Senatorial gala. He smiles to himself after he's shooed out of the Council chamber. Very worth it.
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"I told Padawan Jukassa to get some sleep on board the Senator's ship. Easier if you don't have to wake him up in order to leave." Master Windu breaks the silence first, and moves to sit in the seat Yoda had occupied a few minutes ago. "Something I would recommend if you're able to, Senator Amidala."

"Please, call me Padmé." Padmé smiles briefly, before looking down at Luke in her lap, tracing his face lightly with her fingers. "We've been here long enough that I don't know where to go. I don't know enough about what's happened while we've been out of touch with the rest of the galaxy."

"If they think you're dead?"

"I've been in the public eye for much of the war, Master Windu." Padmé looks up again, a small smile crossing her face. "A week without anything at all will have people concerned for me. I want to know what they think happened before I simply show up somewhere in public."

"If I'm to call you Padmé, Senator, please call me Mace." It's a mutual courtesy, and Anakin is glad Master Windu is willing to extend it to Padmé. "You both should. It will be easier to avoid using potentially dangerous titles or names in public if we do not do so in private."

"Of course, Mace." Padmé looks up at Anakin, and he nods in response to the unspoken question, feeling her curiosity down the bond. He will try to remember to call Master Windu Mace in public and private, though it feels strange to do so with someone who he has barely known for long at all.

"Once we're away from Polis Massa, it should be easier to get information." Master Windu leans forward enough to rest his elbows on his knees, lacing flesh and cybernetic fingers together. "I still think we should have a plan for where we are going before we leave. Better to have to change it later than take time to think about it if someone starts firing on us."

And they can't trust either side of the war not to do so. Anakin shifts, hitching Leia a little higher against his shoulder, trying to think of anywhere he'd remembered as neutral from home, though nowhere comes to mind very well. Belkadan, but that's far from anywhere, and on the far side of the galaxy, besides. Not exactly a place easy to reach without being caught somewhere.

"Naboo, if we can. The Queen will help us, and there are places that are secluded enough no one would look for us there." Padmé picks Luke up, glancing at Anakin a moment as she settles Luke against her shoulder, one arm under him to hold him as she uses the other to help her shift her weight. "If Naboo isn't safe, Tatooine."

Her voice catches a bit as she says that, and Anakin feels a mix of worn grief and fresh pain surge down the bond. He'll have to ask what the grief comes from - it feels too worn to be about Vader - later. The pain, at least the physical, is more concern at the moment. "Careful."

"I'm fine, Anakin." Padmé smiles at him a moment, though Anakin doesn't think she's fine. The pain is still echoing at him, though she seems determined to ignore it. "I need to get up. We can talk about where we're going as we walk back to the ship."

That catches the attention of the medical droids, who'd been hovering at a distance, and now they float closer, one of them braver than the rest voicing concern about Padmé trying to walk that far when she still needs to heal further from childbirth. There is only so much they can do to speed the process.

"Bring me a hoverchair if you insist I shouldn't walk." Padmé glares at the medical droid, and Anakin turns his head so she can't see his grin. "And if they can't bring me a chair, Mace can carry Leia and Luke, and you can carry me."

Anakin blinks, not quite certain what to do with the idea of carrying Padmé - someone he's never thought of as needing any assistance, at least not from him - to the ship. He's glad when the droids are able to bring a hoverchair, and he helps Padmé settle in it with Luke.

Master Windu walks in front of them, making sure they get to the ship safely, and he takes Leia from Anakin once they're on board, so Anakin can make sure the hoverchair is placed out of the way, and close up the ramp behind them. The sooner they're away, the better.
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Messing with ages, among other things. Because Reasons. This was not meant to become a full-fledged named AU. I did a lot of world-building with [personal profile] lferion, who is awesome, and now have vague ideas through to the Clone Wars.

Written for [tumblr.com profile] hamelin-born, for the prompt: Star Wars, Anakin/Obi-Wan/Padme. Dragon, Phoenix, and Unicorn.

The First Steps

AU: We Are Defiance
Word Count: 4124
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Qui-Gon Jinn, Artoo, Obi-Wan Kenobi; background Watto, Jar-Jar Binks, Sabé, Panaka




The air shimmers around her like heat rising off the sands, swirling and glittering red and gold in the corner of his eye, the phantom impression of wings and crest and tail that are gone when he looks directly at her. It's like nothing he's seen around offworlders before. He certainly doesn't even see it around the man who Watto sends on his way without the parts they came for.

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Perhaps not every Sith, the feminine voice concedes, her voice dripping smug satisfaction. I had no use for keeping Bane, and there have been some... less sane ancients who have gone silent.

That doesn't help.

Obi-Wan's eyes fly open as he thinks he hears Qui-Gon speak. Not just a presence between him and the Sith, but someone to talk to as well, to tell them to leave him be. Except that can't be possible, it can't, everything he's been taught says there is nothing past death, just the Force.

The feminine Sith snorts, and Obi-Wan has the distinct impression that she's rolling her eyes. Than what do they call holocrons? Sith Tombs?

"Force-imbued artifacts and tools, and dangerous places no one is to go." Obi-Wan doesn't think anyone's actually attempted to go anywhere near the Stygian Cauldera in his lifetime, much less to Korriban itself. Though he wonders if it would be any more dark than what he's surrounded with right now.

Oh, it would be. And you are in no way ready to go to Korriban.

He can feel the agreement radiating from all three of them - and, too, from the rest of the otherwise silent Sith. If nothing else, that much his mind is in agreement about. Obi-Wan hadn't been particularly thinking about going there, just curious. He thinks. If the thought hadn't been something whispered by some insidious corner of darkness in his mind.

What would be the point? A sane Sith is far better than an insane Dark Jedi. And less boring.

If he didn't know better, he'd think the feminine Sith is settling down to sit next to him. Carefully leaving distance between them, a respect to him and to Qui-Gon's protective bristling, but there, nonetheless. Obi-Wan draws a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He can't let his emotions go with it, but the old breathing exercise at least helps him to find a small, stable center to the whirling chaos. A tiny spot of stillness, even if it's not calm.

"What's the difference? How can I not go insane with this," Obi-Wan frees one hand from the death-grip he has on his hair to gesture around himself, the darkness eddying as he does so, "all around me?" He lets out a brief laugh. "And that's assuming I'm not already insane, talking to figments of imagination and empty air."

I don't think even your imagination is enough to dream up everything the Sith know. Why do you think you're struggling? You have all the knowledge, but not a shred of idea how to use it. And you need to learn, or you will go insane.

There's a brief moment of someone almost touching him, but not quite. Obi-Wan isn't sure if he'd welcome whatever comfort the Sith is trying to offer him, or he'd just go over sideways avoiding her.

Warmth radiates from the other side, Qui-Gon wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and if he didn't think he would fall over, Obi-Wan would lean into the welcome sensation.

She's right about that, at least.

There is agreement humming through the Force, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes. He can't learn to be a Sith, how to use their knowledge, and still be a Jedi. And all he's ever known to be is Jedi. How can he give that all up, and become something else, something he was taught is wrong?

Because if the Jedi find out, they'll kill you, and someone else will have this gift, and you'll be a part of it. A perhaps insane part of it, but part of it regardless.

"Not if I approach the right Jedi first." He thinks. He hopes. Though how can he be certain of who would take the time to listen to him?

If you learn how to use it first, they never need know you're Sith. No longer a Jedi, perhaps. Left their Order, certainly, but if you know what you're doing, you can hide being a Sith.

The female Sith doesn't sound entirely happy about that idea, but the suggestion is sound. Even if it's not one that Obi-Wan likes.

We can begin now.

Obi-Wan lets go of his hair to scrub his hand through it instead, rubbing at his abused scalp, and keeping his eyes shut. It's easier to imagine the Sith and Qui-Gon if he doesn't see the empty room. Easier to believe they're real. The pacing Zabrak whose anger seems leashed for now, and is laced with vicious amusement. The human woman sitting on one side of him, eyes amber-gold and a small smile on her face. And Qui-Gon on the other side, close enough to touch, even to lean against, if he had substance.

The sooner he learns, the sooner he can crawl out of this closet and rejoin the rest of the galaxy.
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Bugger it, I'm just going to post the next bit, since this thing isn't going to get divided up into actual chapters of similar length until I'm done with it and can go through and edit.

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He's not sure how he gets to his feet, or what happens between being crouched on a catwalk in the power station and closing the door of what he thinks is a closet so he can slump against it. Only that he has the familiar weight of a lightsaber on his belt, though he doesn't think it's his. A little too heavy, the resonance in the Force wrong. Qui-Gon's, picked up from beside his body.

Body.

Not alive, no longer there to be a reassuring presence, no matter what tricks Obi-Wan's mind is playing on him. Just a corpse and a vibrant, beloved presence lost to the Force and a Sith's red blade.

Obi-Wan can feel Qui-Gon's arms around his shoulders, can feel the helpless worry from the bond that should feel shattered with Qui-Gon's death, as if his Master isn't gone. But he'd seen the body. Taken the lightsaber from beside the corpse to have it at his side. Must have told someone where to find it, before he came here. He must have, or he left Qui-Gon's body to cool alone with nothing but a bisected Sith corpse and the hum of the power station to keep it company.

A snort answers that thought, the newly-dead Sith as present as Qui-Gon, if less welcome. Radiating anger that keeps Obi-Wan's own rage simmering, and feeding the darkness he can't seem to fight his way out of. How can he know the Sith is there, how can he imagine that presence as well as he is imagining Qui-Gon?

There is no death, there is the Force.

That sounds like Qui-Gon, quiet and calm and comforting despite the worry his Master is feeling for him. Would be feeling for him. Is feeling for him.

Obi-Wan lets out a bark of half-crazed laughter, fisting his hands in his hair as he leans forward, trying to sort something free from the noise. There's more than Qui-Gon and the Sith, a constant chaos of voices that all jeer and call, overlapping so much he can't tell what language they're speaking, much less what they're saying. Only the feel and the tone come through, battering at his already turbulent emotions.

Just let go, little one. It hurts less if you do.

That voice is utterly unfamiliar, feminine and amused and cold as the depths of space. But it's new, and Obi-Wan latches onto it with all the desperation of a drowning man grabbing a piece of flotsom.

"What did you do to me?"

Laughter greets his words, the chorus of voices now blended amusement that leaves Obi-Wan feeling cold in a way Qui-Gon's ephemeral arms cannot warm.

I didn't do anything to you, little one. You did this to yourself.

It makes no sense, and Obi-Wan wonders why he thought some figment of his imagination given voice by his swiftly eroding sanity would make sense. He lets out a strangled laugh, taking a shuddering breath before tilting his head back against the door. Trying to let the still-roiling rage and grief and pain into the Force, and finding no peace, only smothering darkness.

"How?" he whispers, staring up at the shadow-shrouded ceiling. "What is this?"

What you are.

He thinks Qui-Gon - whatever fragment of him he's imagining is Qui-Gon - interposes himself between Obi-Wan and whatever figment is speaking. There's a sense of protectiveness, the arm gone from around his shoulders, and instead a solid bulk standing half over him in his mind.

It's the Gift of Bane. That's the Sith he killed, Obi-Wan thinks, and he blinks at the words, which aren't angry or amused or biting, just. Matter-of-fact and solid in a way nothing else quite feels besides Qui-Gon. Every Sith before Bane who still has a Tomb, every Sith who followed after Bane.

Obi-Wan's face goes cold, his hands heated brands at his temples. "What?" That can't be right. Every Sith? How could anyone have that much Darkness surround them and stay sane?

It isn't much different from growing up.

That comes from both of the figments who've spoken, their voices overlapping, and Obi-Wan groans, tightening his hands in his hair a moment. He can't imagine growing up steeped this much in the dark side, can't imagine feeling this cold in his bones so deeply he'd never be warm all his life.

Qui-Gon's hands are cupping his face, warmth soaking into Obi-Wan's skin just from the formless contact. It isn't enough to banish the ice that is still trickling into his bones, but it makes it easier to bear. He's not sure if he cares if it's real or not, so long as it means he can keep holding onto something of his Master.
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This is what happens when I contemplate a song and its relevance to Star Wars, and am encouraged by multiple people. Thanks to dogmatix, hamelin-born, and the anonymous whose asked questions on tumblr for making this plot bunny the actual beginnings of an AU.

Enjoy!

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The Sith is waiting for them when the hanger doors open, clad in black and wearing an aura of menace like a dark cloak, one deep enough that Obi-Wan doesn't doubt it can be felt by anyone near by. It's curious neither he nor Qui-Gon had sensed it before the doors opened, though, as if the Sith had been waiting for them to find him before he let them feel just how much danger awaited them.

The Sith is patient enough to let Amidala and her entourage clear out of the way, focused entirely on Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. He even gives them a moment to shed their cloaks, so they won't get in the way of the fight. His is still the first saber lit, a double-bladed staff that makes Obi-Wan hide a wince. This is not a weapon they've trained to encounter, though he has hopes they'll prevail regardless.

When he strikes the first blow, vaulting over the Sith's head and nearly losing his saber-hand for it, Obi-Wan wonders how deeply they've underestimated the Sith. The ferocious attack is hard to keep up with, and they can't keep the Sith between them despite trying.

Obi-Wan thinks he hears a crack when the Sith kicks Qui-Gon's wrist, and Qui-Gon goes down with a hiss of pain, if only for a moment. It's long enough for the Sith to push Obi-Wan several feet across the hanger, toward another pair of massive doors that lead, if he remembers correctly, to Theed's power station. Not an ideal place for a fight like this, and Obi-Wan tries to circle around to push the Sith back into the hanger.

The heat of the Sith's lightsaber singes his hair as Obi-Wan has to tuck to avoid having his head cut in half, and he falls back a step, leaving the way open for the Sith to take several steps closer to those doors. Not a retreat, but a lure onto ground he's chosen, and Obi-Wan has a very bad feeling about what will happen if they are drawn beyond those doors.

Panting, he lunges, drawing on the Force and his own worries to push himself harder as he re-engages the Sith. Qui-Gon is there beside him again a moment later, showing no signs of injury, though Obi-Wan suspects he's using the Force to hold off pain and to keep any cracked bones in place.

A piece of debris goes flying through the air, only barely missing Obi-Wan before it crashes into a control pad, the doors opening easily behind the Sith, giving him a chance to move them into the huge open space of the power station, criss-crossed with catwalks that Obi-Wan can only think of as death-traps.

They're barely inside the door when Obi-Wan is kicked, and the taste of blood floods his mouth as his teeth catch his tongue. He stumbles and falls, rolling away to get back to his feet, and spitting out a mouthful of blood as he does so. He doesn't stop, can't stop, just darts back to where Qui-Gon is fighting with every bit of speed and strength he can wring out of his body and the Force.

It won't be enough, not here, and Obi-Wan catches the Sith's staff before it can carve into Qui-Gon's shoulder, pushing him back with a Force-shove. Only a fraction of a second of breathing room, though, before the Sith is back on them, blocking their blows as they try to end this here, now.

Qui-Gon prevents another would-be decapitation, and Obi-Wan doesn't have time to even give him a smile of thanks, pushing forward and toward one of the smaller console-platforms rather than the catwalk itself. The Sith smiles, retreating to the lit edge, spinning his staff once as he waits for them to attack him this time.

Nearly impaling himself on the Sith's staff isn't Obi-Wan's intent when he lunges, and he doesn't like that he has to hastily throw himself backward to avoid that, leaving the Sith room to backflip and land on the catwalk itself. Time for the Sith to be ready when Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan follow, and for him to catch both of their lightsabers on one blade of the staff.

The fight gets no better from there, chasing the Sith down the catwalk only for him to leap up to another, forcing them to follow him higher and higher into the station. Until there's nowhere to go up, and they're fighting close to one of the great columns of plasma that terminates above their heads in the collectors.

Obi-Wan feels a tiny whisper in the Force only a split-second before the Sith twists and spins, delivering a vicious kick to Obi-Wan's ribs that pushes him off the catwalk, and cracks at least one in the process. He fails to catch himself on the first catwalk he hits, and rolls off it to drop onto another one, barely grabbing onto the edge to keep himself from falling another level. The jolt sends pain screaming through Obi-Wan, and he barely clamps down on that enough to look up.

Qui-Gon is retreating, step by step, and barely keeping up the green blur of defense. It falters a moment, and Obi-Wan reaches out with the Force to yank ferociously at the back of the Sith's robes. It gives Qui-Gon enough time to barrel into the Sith, shoving him further off-balance before Qui-Gon backhands him, sending him careening off the catwalk.

Obi-Wan can hear the thud from where he's dangling, and he struggles to contain his pain long enough to pull himself up. It only leaves him in more agony as the motion pulls at his ribs, and he pants, listening to the sounds above him. The Force is screaming at him that something is wrong, that this is going to go badly and soon, and he wants desperately to stop that.

Trying again, he draws on the Force to leap back onto the catwalk he's hanging from, and looks up in time to see Qui-Gon land near the Sith - and the Sith's saberstaff to come up and carve into Qui-Gon's side before he yanks it upward savagely.

Not enough to kill immediately, but Obi-Wan can feel the searing pain along the bond with Qui-Gon, and he hears someone screaming in negation. Anger sings in his veins as he uses the Force to direct his leap again, landing just out of reach of the Sith's saberstaff. Power follows the anger, strength enough to ignore his ribs and charge at the Sith with his saber - he can't remember picking it up - lit and at the ready.

The Sith matches him blow for blow, though he keeps retreating. Toward another door that Obi-Wan can't recall now if it leads to another level of the hanger or somewhere else in the palace complex, and doesn't entirely care. All he wants is to see the Sith fall, to die before he can kill someone else, and best that he dies at Obi-Wan's hands.

Qui-Gon is still in the back of his mind, and Obi-Wan can feel his Master's concern and worry weakly beneath the pain that is most of what he feels from him. He shouldn't be worrying about Obi-Wan, only about living long enough to get a medic to him.

He lets himself sink further into the Force, using the anger - rage - at the harm the Sith has already done feed him more of that same power. Drawing it into himself and pushing it into the battle. Moving fast enough that he's distantly aware the sabers will look like nothing more than blurs of blue and red to observers, though he can see it all as if time has slowed.

Block and parry and duck and leap. Strike and lunge, and there. An opening, almost too brief and too small to catch, but enough. Just enough to slash through the hilt of the saberstaff, and past it to cut through black robes and the flesh beneath. Carving bone and organs with equal ease, severing the spine at the same time he slices through the Sith's heart.

His world explodes with pain and sound, and Obi-Wan drops to his knees, his lightsaber skittering away from him when it falls from nerveless fingers. Obi-Wan doesn't know what the Sith did in his dying seconds, but it feels like he's suddenly surrounded by a crowd that is jeering and shouting. Loud enough that he can see phantom shapes out of the corners of his eyes that vanish when he turns to look at them.

Obi-Wan only realizes he's folded over with his face nearly against the floor when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder, familiar and welcome, and he gasps out relief that quickly becomes terror when he looks up to see nothing. He can still feel Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder, can hear him trying to speak comfort that Obi-Wan can't make out past the rush of blood in his ears, but there's no one there.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan knows he needs to bring himself under control, to let the fear and pain and anger out into the Force, but he can't think with the cacophony in his mind. Can't focus past the churning in the Force itself, the darkness that swamps his senses, except to know he needs to move. Move, run, hide.




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"Take them from her, I did not say." Yoda is watching Anakin with a mix of disapproval and disappointment. As if there were some failing in Anakin that he had hoped would not be. "You, they should not be near."

He can feel Padmé waking as Yoda speaks, and he reaches back with one hand to wrap his fingers around hers. Feeling her squeeze back, and sending her a pulse of reassurance, as he had earlier.

"If Padmé wants me gone, then I will go. But that is not your decision, Yoda. And it's not one you should force Padmé into until she's ready to make the decision."

"Master Yoda is here?" Padmé's voice is quiet, but not soft, and Anakin turns enough he can help her sit up, a medical droid coming over to assist them, and resettle Luke in Padmé's lap. "What are you talking about?"

"Yoda is being rude, and discussing Leia and Luke without your input. Suggesting they should not be anywhere near me, because he believes I would attract the attention of the Sith." Anakin suspects that Yoda would also prefer Zett were removed from Anakin's presence entirely, and may only be mollified by Master Windu's having accompanied them.

Padmé is quiet a moment, the room hushed as the others are polite enough to let her think over Anakin's words. "What do you propose to do, Master Yoda?"

"The children, the Emperor must not find. Separated they should be, better to hide them." Yoda rests his hands on his knees, watching Padmé steadily, and Anakin shifts a little, keeping close attention on the currents of the Force, not trusting the Jedi not to use mind tricks against Padmé if they believe this truly is for the best.

Another long moment of silence, as Padmé looks down at Luke, tracing her fingers over his face. "Can they be hidden without taking them from each other?" She looks up at Anakin, giving him an expectant look. Trusting his answer, even if the Jedi say something else.

"While they're small and can be kept close, it's easy." Anakin takes a deep breath, wrapping the same shields he'd shown Zett and Master Windu around himself, Padmé, Leia, and Luke. Hiding them all, and watching the surprise that briefly crosses Yoda's face. "I can hide us all from Sidious, and I can hide us from you."

And when Leia and Luke aren't as willing to stay close, and are harder to hide himself, he can teach them how to hide themselves, to make themselves small and invisible, nothing to take any note of.

"Then stay." Padmé laces her fingers between his where their hands are joined. He can feel her determination, and a quiet resolve. "I will not send Leia and Luke away from their father, and I won't tell Anakin to leave me."

No one is surprised by Padmé's declaration of Anakin as the twin's father, and Anakin finds it reassuring that the Jedi must have known about Vader's association with Padmé, and didn't do all they could to stop it. Or if they did, it wasn't terribly effective.

"Then I will go with you, if you'll allow it, Senator." Master Windu's request does seem to surprise Yoda, and Anakin fights back the urge to smile. "It would be safer for you and your children to have more than Skywalker and Jukasa to protect you."

"I'm not helpless, Master Windu." Padmé gives him an irritated look, and Master Windu smiles a little at her in return.

"Of that I am aware, Senator." He folds his hands in the borrowed robe he's still wearing. "Neither of the children, however, are yet able to defend themselves, and Padawan Jukasa is still not fully trained. Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you for their sakes?"

Padmé nods, a small hint of amusement floating to Anakin along the bond. He will have to teach her how to shield it, if she wants privacy for her emotions.

"Thank you, Senator." Master Windu doesn't move yet, and Anakin can see the turmoil in Yoda's expression, he suspects over the decision that has just been made. Or perhaps over not being the one who is allowed to make the decisions on how they will arrange for their safety and that of the children.

"What about you?" Anakin looks at Yoda, wondering what the old Jedi has in mind. "Where do you intend to go?"

Yoda is silent for a long moment, looking at each of them, though Anakin can't read what he's feeling. "Into exile, I will go. Alone." He sighs quietly, shaking his head. "Your decisions, wise I think not, but dictate to you, I will not."

Anakin relaxes a little at that, though he wants to bristle at the idea that Yoda doesn't think them capable of making the right choices for themselves and the twins.

"Senator Organa, your hospitality a little longer I would intrude upon. To Dagobah, I will go."

"Of course, Master Yoda." Bail smiles, then looks over at Padmé. "You are always welcome on Alderaan, Padmé." He looks up to meet Anakin's gaze a moment, then over to Master Windu. "All of you are."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Anakin smiles, nodding in acknowledgement of the invitation, though he is less certain of taking it up. Wherever they go, they won't be able to stay for long, even if Anakin hides them in the Force. Their faces will be recognized, if nothing else.

Yoda's ears tilt downward a moment before he draws a deep breath, hopping down from the chair, turning to Master Windu. "The Force be with you, Master Windu. And with you, Senator Amidala," he says, turning to speak to Padmé, ignoring Anakin.

"And may the Force be with you as well, Master Yoda." Anakin smiles a little, and nods when Yoda looks at him.

There is nothing else said as Bail follows Yoda out of the room, leaving the rest of them in silence that is only broken by the quiet whirr of the medical droids.
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A shorter bit this time, but going forward. Posting this mostly because it has a point to end at and I want to poke at the new plot bunny a bit.

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on tumblr




Padmé is asleep again before Master Windu returns, and Anakin is once again holding Leia, pacing around the edge of the room to help her sleep and to let him think. He looks over at the sound of the door opening, and smiles at Master Windu, though his smile fades into puzzlement when he sees others following - and neither of the others with Master Windu are Zett.

He sends a wordless queary down the training bond, and gets back a sense of sleepiness, and the contentment of someone warm and well-fed. Late, then, likely, and Zett heading for a bunk that Anakin assumes is safe for the moment.

"Master Windu. Your Highness." He pauses, glancing down at the third, a Jedi he remembers only as a favored guest of Qui-Gon. "Master Yoda."

Yoda watches him for a long moment before harumphing, and turning away to thump over to the chair, which has been left unoccupied for him. Anakin frowns a moment, before shaking his head, and resuming his circuit of the room. Whatever Yoda intends to say, he can do so while Anakin is walking.

"Darkness there is about you, Skywalker."

"The Force there is about me, Master Yoda." Anakin rubs a hand in soothing circles on Leia's back when she shifts, encouraging her to just rest some more, sleep and grow. "You can't see very well what's in the shadows if you never step out of the light."

"Hmph. The Dark Side, always hard to see, it has been." Yoda meets his glare with an expression Anakin can't read, and without leaking anything into the Force other than a deep weariness. "Trust it, we cannot."

"Trust me, you have to." Anakin veers away from Yoda, pacing between the beds instead of around the edge of the room. "I'm not going anywhere until Padmé's ready to leave, and then I go where she goes unless she asks me not to."

"And go where, will you? To the Sith?" Yoda is watching Leia more than Anakin, and Anakin stills his hand and his pacing, half-turning to keep himself more between Leia and Yoda than not.

"Sidious is not my friend, nor is Vader. Even if Padmé asks me where to go, I wouldn't go to them." Anakin glares at Master Windu, wondering why he's brought the little green troll here.

Master Windu shakes his head, shifting to put a tiny fraction more space between himself and Yoda. This is not his idea, and perhaps he is not as in agreement with Yoda as he might appear. Anakin hopes he isn't.

"Attract their attention, you will, even if go to them, you do not." Yoda glances at Luke, then Leia again, before meeting Anakin's gaze. "The children, they must not find."

"And any decision made about them is not your concern." Anakin takes a half-step back, bumping the bed Padmé is sleeping on as he sends a quiet nudge down the bond with her. "They are Padmé's children, and you will not take them from her."
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Tiny!Leia and tiny!Luke are adorable and will get pronouns later. And this part brings the story past 16K. *wiggles around happily*




"Here." Master Windu comes around the bed, and holds out the baby he'd been feeding to Anakin. "This one screams when set down."

Anakin stares at the baby for a long moment, not reaching out until Master Windu goes to set them in his lap. "How...?"

Master Windu helps Anakin arrange the baby, and an extra towel one of the medical droids brings over, settling them against Anakin's shoulder. And then walks out of the room saying something about getting some sleep, and leaves Anakin with the babies and Padmé and the quartet of medical droids.

Resting the hand not under the baby on their back, Anakin looks down at the pale fabric that is all he can see of them at the moment, a small smile curving his lips. There's a whisper in the back of his mind that this little one is his, even though the twins were fathered by Vader. That even if he could find a way home, he should stay and help bring this little one, and the other, up.

"Anakin?" Padmé's voice is quiet and tired, and draws Anakin's attention to her. She's watching the baby he's holding, a small furrow of confusion between her brows. "The baby?"

"Babies." Anakin nods to the bundle resting on her chest, and Padmé brings her hands up to shift the baby, looking down at the scrunched up face. Stroking the baby's cheek with one fingertip. "They're no more than a week old, from what Master Windu told me."

"They were born three days ago." The medical droids are converging on Padmé's bed, and one of them provides the information Anakin couldn't. "You did not regain consciousness during labor as expected."

"I might have caused that." Anakin smiles apologetically at Padmé when she frowns at him, confusion coming down the newly anchored bond without any sort of clear direction to it. "I don't know how or who did it, but someone broke a bond you had, and if I didn't do something, it would have killed you. I didn't know it would take so long."

"And that meant I wasn't awake while my babies were born." Padmé looks back down at the one resting on her chest, wrapping her arms around the baby to better support them. "They are mine?"

"Yes." Anakin is certain of it, even though he'd been no more awake at the time than Pamdé. He rubs the back of the baby he's holding. "Both of them. They don't have names yet; Master Windu said they were waiting for you to name them."

Padmé is silent for a long moment, just looking down at the baby she's holding. "Luke and Leia. Anakin always told me that whatever I named the baby would be wonderful."

Anakin slides off the bed he's on, and takes the half-step to lean against Padmé's, looking down at the baby she's holding. "Which one is which?"

Letting out a quiet laugh that holds less amusement than incipient panic, Padmé shakes her head. "I don't know. I don't know them. They're mine and I don't know them."

The fear is creeping along the bond, and Anakin takes a deep breath, sending back reassurance. Padmé looks up sharply, her eyes widening a moment before she smiles, the expression a little wobbily. "What did you do with the bond?"

"I gave it a new anchor point." Anakin shifts his grip on the baby he's holding so he can reach down with his other hand to tuck a whisp of blond hair back into the blanket wrapped around the other. "I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to say yes or no. If you want, I can probably sever it again, more cleanly, so it wouldn't kill you."

"Let me think about it." Padmé draws a deep breath, her gaze sliding from his face to the baby resting against his shoulder. "Let me see. I need to see them both."
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Note: Yes, I did some quick searching for if the one thing was possible. I'd liken it to a medically-induced coma in this case, rather than normal unconsciousness, and it's going to make things interesting later.

Note the second: [personal profile] thedeadcat​ is where I get the idea of the reason Padmé dies in canon is a broken life-bond with Anakin. Because it is an awesome idea and makes more damned sense than “lost the will to live”.




"Do you trust me?" Anakin meets Padmé's gaze steadily when she opens her eyes again, waiting for her nod, though he doubts it's anything more than a conditional trust. "Once we're away from here, I need you to trust me, to let me in, if I'm going to use the Force at all to check you and the baby." He has to trust it will work, that he'll be able to see what's wrong with Padmé. Trust that she's right and it's not the baby, and that the Force will show him if they're both wrong.

Padmé nods again, tightening her grip on his hand as she closes her eyes again. Anakin listens to the whine of the engines, lets himself feel the minute vibration of the ship as it lifts from the platform, taking a steep angle to get them as far from here as possible as quickly as possible. The cold and sluggish feeling like the Force has become stagnated in darkness lifts away as they're further from Mustafar, and Anakin takes a deep breath.

He squeezes Padmé's fingers gently as he reaches out in the Force, letting his mind slide along the currents and eddies, and feeling her willingness to let him in. Willingness to do whatever she needed to do for her baby, and trusting him to make sure it's all right. Anakin slides into her mind, murmuring a thanks that stutters to a halt as he feels what feels like something bleeding into the Force. Bleeding life and vitality away as readily as any wound, and he hisses, reaching out mental hands to try to staunch the flow.

The outside world fades to bare impressions as he holds onto what feels like the shredded end of a severed artery - a severed bond? - with every bit of concentration he can muster. At some point he thinks someone comes in, but he doesn't know who, or what he says to them. If he says anything. He's vaguely aware of movement, either around him, or him being moved, him and Padmé.

How long he's been focused on the internal before he surfaces, he has no idea, but he's no longer in the tiny medical bay of Padmé's ship when he does. The room is larger, and more sterile, with medical droids beeping anxiously about their patients, and Padmé is resting with a small bundle laying against her chest. The baby.

"I don't know what you were doing, Skywalker, but we nearly lost you both when the droids removed you from physical contact with Senator Amidala."

Master Windu's voice draws Anakin's attention away from Padmé to where the Jedi is sitting in a chair, with another small bundle held in one arm. The other has a skeletal prosthetic on it, holding a bottle as the baby drinks from it.

"Two?" Anakin doesn't know exactly what he did, either, only that he was determined not to let Padmé die from something that could be fixed. That he wanted to be able to fix, and had no experience in dealing with. He doesn't know if what he's done is what the Jedi would have done, or the Sith, only that he thinks it worked. He hopes it worked.

Master Windu frowns, than glances down at the baby he's feeding. "Senator Amidala had twins, yes." He raises an eyebrow, watching Anakin for a long moment. "What were you doing earlier, Skywalker?"

"Trying to keep the Senetor from bleeding out." Anakin doesn't have any other way to describe it, and he sighs quietly. "I don't know what happened to her, but it felt like someone had some deep bond with her, and it had been ripped apart with no regard to the harm to her."

If Vader had done both, Anakin thinks he might well kill his alternate himself when he has a chance. Trying to kill her like this is a cruelty Anakin doesn't think he would be capable of, and doesn't know how Vader would be, when he'd married her and had created children with her.

Children. Twins.

Anakin draws another deep breath, letting it out slowly, a small smile creeping onto his face despite himself. "What did she name them?"

"She hasn't, yet." Master Windu looks past Anakin to Padmé. "She was unconscious when we landed, and all through the birth. I didn't think that was possible."

Blinking, Anakin looks back at Padmé, his smile fading into a worried frown. Had he stopped the bleeding in time, or had he just prolonged the inevitable?

He tries to sit up, falling back when his head spins, trying to blink away the sudden grayness at the edges of his vision. The worried beeping of the medical droid gets closer, and Anakin listens to them scolding him about trying to move so quickly, trying to be active after having been unconscious for the last week.

"Week?"

"We've been able to get you to swallow water and some broth, since the droids weren't able to get an IV in. You short-circuited their limbs every time they came near you with a needle." Master Windu sounds amused, at least, even if there is an undertone of worry to the words. "What did you do, Skywalker?"

"Tried to fix the broken bond by giving it a new anchor point." Anakin tightens the grip he still has on Padmé's hand a moment, before slowly moving his other limbs, reminding himself of the physical limits of his body. "Maybe not waking up was adjusting to the change?"

There's a snort from Master Windu, and Anakin glances at him a moment to see an expression he can't read. Blinking a moment, Anakin turns away, and back to Padmé, trying again to sit up, with a little more success this time. He still feels dizzy, but it's not as bad.

He holds onto Padmé's hand for a long moment more before consciously letting go, peeling away one finger at a time. It feels strange for his hand to be empty, and he flexes his fingers as he watches Padmé intently, hoping she'll wake soon, now that he is awake.

Post 2/2

Jan. 16th, 2016 10:39 pm
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Prompts are taken from this list. Prompts are currently closed, though I may open them back up later.




[tumblr.com profile] imjz - #1 "Are you drunk?"

Kix and Jesse (and Hardcase) is thats possible! (Alternately, Zeb and Kanan)

Untitled )




[tumblr.com profile] hamelin-born - #13 "How can anyone not be afraid of love?"

Star Wars, TTMK, Obi-Wan Jr., any.

Word Count: 707
Characters: Obi-Wan Jr, with mentions of Padmé-Sister (clone), Darth Vader, Bariss Offee, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rex, and the TTMK
Warnings: non-graphic child abuse and neglect

Love Is... )




[tumblr.com profile] mirandatam - #15 "That was a perfect example of how not to do things."

Ahsoka meeting the TTMK

Untitled )




[tumblr.com profile] tigerliliesandcherryblossoms - #24 "I will if you will."

Fili & Nori please. As bros or more than bros, either's fine so up to your Muse provided no one dies :)

Untitled )




[tumblr.com profile] norcumi - #25 "My nightmares are usually about losing you."

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and any clones that might catch your interest, please!

Nightmares )




anonymous - #29 Prepare to be amazed.

a very hot night Anakin/Obi-Wan/Padme

Untitled )




[tumblr.com profile] lynati - #46 "Shut up, I am a delight!"

Hermione Granger and mystery character of YOUR choice.

Untitled )
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And now I've got to figure out how this fight goes, because now the biggest reason I think Vaderkin is going to fight Obi-Wan is because he can't leave Obi-Wan on Mustafar with the shuttle he had been using, because he hasn't wiped the nav computer yet, and he can't have Obi-Wan finding the younglings.

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Cut for length )
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