Title: Five Deaths to Die (3/5)
By: Cassia
Email: cassia_a@hotmail.com
Category: Angst, Drama, Adventure, H/C, character torture... Did I mention ANGST?
Rating: PG 13 (violence, death)
Archive: Jedi Apprentice, Early Years & Quigonfic
Spoilers: Minor ones for the JA books
Disclaimer: All recognizable Star Wars characters are the
exclusive property of George Lucas. All others belong to me.
I have no official permission to use these characters, but
I'm not being paid for it either, so that's okay.
Feedback: Yes Please!
Time Frame: 7 years before TMP. Obi-Wan is 18.
Summary: An enemy from Qui-Gon's past threatens to ruin his future. With Obi-Wan's life at stake, Qui-Gon must try to end the time-continuum he finds them both stuck in before it's too late. Will he succeed, or will he find himself facing a tomorrow without his Padawan?
ANGST ALERT! This story is a MAJOR tear-jerker. At least, I think so. I wrote parts of it with tears streaming down my face if that's any
indication... (pathetic, yes, I know)
It involves character torture and death (no, I'm not going to tell you
if they STAY dead, you'll have to read and find out for yourself).
but if this would in anyway upset, depress or generally bum you out,
stop now. Otherwise...
DAY THREE:
"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice dragged Qui-Gon up from his exhausted sleep. "Master?"
Qui-Gon awoke with a start, still seated in the chair he had sat down in last night before he apparently fell asleep. He had meant to wait up, he wanted to see what exactly happened when the clock struck midnight and the day started over again, but he had not been able to stay up, whether because of his emotionally drained state, or because Rylos would not let him, he did not know.
Obi-Wan was shaking Qui-Gon gently by the shoulder. "Master, didn't you go to bed last night?" the apprentice shook his head in concerned reprove. "We're going to be late."
"We are not going to the Embassy today, Obi-Wan," Qui- Gon said calmly, rising out of the chair and stretching to relieve the stiffness that sitting there all night had caused.
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon in surprise. "But, Master, isn't today the Commencement?" he asked, confused.
"Yes," Qui-Gon answered simply, heading over to the 'fresher.
"Isn't that what we came here for?" Obi-Wan was puzzled to no end. Qui-Gon was acting very strange.
"I have my reasons Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly, looking at the boy with an intenseness and determination in his eyes that Obi-Wan could not comprehend. "Question me no more."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said obediently, but he did not understand.
Qui-Gon did not know if what he did was right, but he would do almost anything to keep the sad scene of the last two days from repeating itself again, to break this vicious circle. If they did not go to the Embassy, if they did not ever venture outside this room the whole day, then nothing could happen to Obi-Wan, or at least, that's what Qui-Gon reasoned.
Of course, once the cycle was broken, time, reality and consequences would kick back into effect. Neglecting his duty would be a very serious charge to answer to, but Qui-Gon was willing to risk it. He was willing to risk anything for Obi-Wan.
Unbeknownst to the two men, the Venbian Terrorists were not at all pleased with the Jedi presence here on Malti-Venba. They knew the duo was here to support the new order.
"Wouldn't it be a good blow to this "New Democracy" if it's Jedi puppet's strings were cut?" they asked themselves. The answer appeared to be yes.
The first, and last warning the Jedi had was the huge explosion that blew all the windows out as the terrorist bomb ripped the boarding house apart. The horrendous blast shook the earth, decimating the entire left side of the hotel.
The Jedi's room had been on the sixth floor, but when Qui-Gon opened his eyes, he found that he was on ground level now, surrounded by, and partially buried under, jagged shards and huge chunks of debris that had once been part of the ruined structure. Breathing hurt incredibly and his eyes refused to focus. He had a severe concussion at the very least.
For a moment, he was too stunned and shocked to put together any kind of coherent thought. Then there was only one that blazed through his head. *Obi-Wan!*
Qui-Gon tried to move, but the ground shook unsteadily, and the weight of the world seemed to press down on him, crushing him against the rubble he lay on. He realized the shifting was all in his own head, as was most of the crushing pressure he felt.
Emergency workers were already on the scene. One bent over Qui-Gon. The Jedi could see the woman's lips moving, but could hear no sound. The explosion had shattered his eardrums.
He must have looked dazed, because the woman and her droid companion started administering hasty first aid.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon forced his sluggish lips to form the word. "Obi-Wan," he rasped, wondering if he were really speaking at all. It felt like he was, but he could not hear even his own voice, and the pain confused him. He searched for his Padawan, reaching out past the confines of his battered body. His sweep revealed that Obi-Wan was quite close by, and he was not going to make it. Qui-Gon was not surprised. Deeply disturbed at his repeated failure, but no longer surprised.
The Medic and the droid tried to quiet him, but Qui- Gon would not be stilled. Rolling over, he crawled across the rubble towards where he felt Obi-Wan, ignoring the way the sharp surface cut his hands and knees and the way the earth seemed to shake and heave below him.
Somehow, Qui-Gon managed to find his apprentice in the midst of all that destruction and death. The young man was almost entirely buried beneath a corner of the fallen building. Qui-Gon thought it was already too late, but when he touched Obi-Wan's face with one, shaky hand, the young Jedi stirred just a fraction. His eyes opened for a moment.
Obi-Wan was too crushed to speak, but Qui-Gon could not have heard him anyway, so their eyes spoke for them instead.
The world spun around Qui-Gon; floating black spots and flashes of lighting clouded his vision and he could barely breathe. He knew Obi-Wan was going to die, but this time, he wondered dimly if he was too. Sinking down onto the rubble beside his fading Padawan, Qui-Gon rested his head next to Obi-Wan's as oblivion pulled them both under.
The Jedi Master was dimly aware of being lifted off the rubble and placed on a stretcher.
"What about the other one?" he heard one of the Medic's ask, doubtless meaning Obi-Wan.
"Too late for that one," someone responded somberly. "He's gone."
"Well, there's still a chance for this one, get him to the hospital."
The next thing Qui-Gon remembered was coming to in the hospital ward. His head throbbed unmercifully and for a moment he thought he was seeing things, because the hazy form of a man hovered above his bed. Then he realized it was Rylos.
"Better be more careful Jinn," Rylos shook his head, mockingly. "You almost got *yourself* killed that time. But that won't do you any good. You won't get off that easy."
"Rylos," Qui-Gon rasped, strangely able to hear his unwelcome visitor, but still unable to hear himself. The Jedi's unfocused eyes burned into the Dacca. "Stop this! Punish me, take my life, but leave Obi-Wan alone!"
Rylos just smirked and held up a ghostly hand. "Two more tries," he said, indicating the number on his finger. "You've failed miserably so far Jinn. But don't let repetition dull you, the next few days won't be so easy," the Dacca threatened with icy amusement. Leaning close, Rylos whispered softly to him. "Why don't you just give up now, let me take him this way. I promise you it will only get more painful," the Dacca hissed menacingly.
Qui-Gon's jaw tightened stubbornly.
"Good," Rylos grinned. "I was hoping you'd chose that way. Keep trying Jinn, see how many times you can fail..." Rylos disappeared and the room faded after him as unconsciousness reclaimed Qui-Gon once more.
DAY FOUR:
Qui-Gon's eyes popped open. The sound of the air- circulators and Obi-Wan's gentle snoring seemed deafening after having been locked in complete silence. For a moment he just lay there, wishing he did not have to live this day, again. Never before had he so dreaded getting out of bed, yet if he did not, something disastrous would no doubt happen to them once more.
Qui-Gon sat up with a sigh. He could not hide from this terrible game that Rylos had thrust upon him. He had tried that, he had let fear make his decision and it had turned out terribly.
*"Think Jinn,"* he told himself, holding his head in his hands. It no longer hurt from the injuries of ... the last time it was today, but he could feel a headache coming on quickly from trying to figure out what he was going to do. Forcing himself to be calm and center, he focused his mind, driving away all the anxiety and fear.
Calmer now, Qui-Gon rose to his feet. They would go to the Embassy. He could not hide them from danger, he would have to face it head on if he hoped to conquer it.
"Wake up Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon called gently, hoping he was not rousing the boy for another day of death.
They walked this time, because Qui-Gon was beginning to see a pattern. If he tried to hide, some new, unexpected danger would find them. But perhaps if he faced the perils, they could be conquered.
As they entered the huge doors of the Embassy, it seemed to have worked. He had been prepared. He had been ready for the accident and made sure the road was clear so that no one was harmed. He warned the Malti-Venbian soldiers about the assassins on the roof and they were apprehended without incident.
Qui-Gon sighed as he and Obi-Wan took their place around one of the huge tables in the reception hall. They had survived the morning, now he just had the rest of the day to worry about.
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's prickling caution. "It's all right Master, after all the things that occurred this morning, what else could happen?" he whispered in an attempt to lighten his Mentor's heavy mood.
"Let us hope that we don't find out Padawan," Qui-Gon said wearily.
"You sense danger?" Obi-Wan asked in concern, scanning the area for himself but turning up nothing unusual.
"No," Qui-Gon shook his head. "But that does not mean it is not there." Whatever Rylos had done had seemed to dampen their ability to sense things before they happened, or a least, to sense danger.
Qui-Gon was not usually given to paranoia, so Obi-Wan knew that something was up. "We will have to be on guard, Master," Obi-Wan assured.
"Indeed," Qui-Gon nodded, scanning the room once more. Qui-Gon sat tensely through the hours of talks and speeches, hardly registering a word said. He was, however, very aware of everything else that was happening around them.
The soldiers, there to protect the gathering, were fanned out around the room, guarding all the exits, or, the thought struck Qui-Gon suddenly, was it *blocking* all the exits? A flash of apprehension gripped him. Not a moment too soon. "Everyone get down!" Qui-Gon shouted. Shoving his chair back and overturning the table like a shield, he pulled the Governor, seated beside him, down as well. Obi-Wan followed only milliseconds behind him.
The warning gave the unarmed diplomats and guests the moment's notice that they needed to hit the floor just as a thick barrage of blaster fire tore through the room from all sides as the Venbian terrorists, disguised as the Malti-Venbian soldiers, opened fire on the helpless crowd.
The gunmen blocked the exits, letting no one out, but more of their own in. "Everyone cooperate, and no one gets hurt!" one of the lead terrorists called out. "We want hostages, not dead people!"
The Malti-Venbians however, were not inclined to believe the attacking gunmen and some of them rushed the soldiers.
"No!" Obi-Wan tried to hold back the people next to him. The room was too completely surrounded; it was suicide to attack the terrorists like that.
"Stay down!" Qui-Gon shouted, half to the people making the foolish attack, and half to Obi-Wan who had risen up in an attempt to stop the Malti-Venbians.
Obi-Wan obeyed, the Malti-Venbians did not.
Waves of terrorist blaster fire cut down the foolish rush before it had moved halfway across the room.
Obi-Wan winced as dozens of people fell dead. He inched forward a little, peering around the table that he, Qui-Gon, the Governor and several other diplomats were taking cover behind. Qui-Gon was inclined to pull him back, but he stopped himself. If he allowed fear to cloud his thinking again it could be disastrous to everyone here.
"Nobody move!" the lead terrorist shouted, the veins on his neck bulging in rage. "I have a thermal detonator here," he said, holding the rotund device aloft for all to see. "And I'm not afraid to use it! I will die for my cause and join the honored martyrs of my ancestors if I have to, do you want me to do take you with me?!"
"Everyone be still!" the Governor barked firmly, standing up and leaving the cover of his table.
The Jedi stood up as well, unwilling to leave the brave Governor alone with no protection.
"These are fanatics gentlemen," Governor Naheel said softly to the Jedi on either side of him. "They will do as they threaten. I myself would rather die and take them with me," the man said quietly, his eyes speaking the truth of his statement. "But I would not take a room full of innocent people with me," he murmured, glancing around at all the guests who cowered behind tables and chairs. There had to be over a hundred people here.
Qui-Gon nodded grimly. He understood.
"I am Governor Vim Naheel," the Governor announced calmly. "If you are after someone gentlemen, it is me. Let these other people go," he addressed the terrorists, gesturing to the frightened guests scattered about the room.
"You will not tell us what to do," the lead terrorist snarled, walking over and pushing the muzzle of his rifle against the Governor's neck. "We are in charge now. We decide what we will do!"
The terrorists grouped the civilian guests into one corner of the room and put them under heavy guard with orders to start shooting if any of them even batted an eyelash.
Then they gathered the Governor, the diplomats and the Jedi up onto the platform that was meant to have been used for the commencement ceremony and forced them all to sit down with their hands on the long table and in clear view. "If any of you even look at me wrong," the leader ranted, "Ten people over there are gonna die! Got it?!" he said, indicating where his men held the civilian prisoners.
The twelve prisoners at the table nodded grimly.
A comlink was shoved into Governor Naheel's hand. "I want this building evacuated, no one comes near this room without my permission!" the leader demanded.
The Governor complied quietly, giving the necessary orders. "Now," he said turning back to his captor. "What are your terms?"
"You don't beat around the bush, I like that," the Venbian sneered. "Our terms are simple! Our terms are freedom from your tyranny!"
"You wish me to step down?" The Governor inquired; hoping it could be that simple.
"Oh, yes, but that is just the tip of the iceberg Malti!" the man snarled. "We already have you, Malti-Venba is in our hands! But the Republic will try to take it away from us! They back you, you filthy sons of waurmets! Send a message to the Republic with our demands! Tell them we demand that they step out of Venbian affairs! That we demand 500,000,000 dactaryians in exchange for your pitiful lives. And finally, tell them that we demand 5,000 ground attack vehicles and 7,000 starfighters to rid our planet of the cursed Malti race! Venba for the Venbians!" he shouted and his men picked up the cry until the halls of the reception room rang with it.
"You are mad," Governor Naheel informed the man icily. "The Republic will never comply with such demands, they cannot."
"You'd better hope you're wrong big man," the leader threatened. "Or you're all dead men."
The Venbian terrorist's demands were sent to the Republic officials, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both knew that the Venbians were dreaming to think that they could coax those terms out of the Senate, or even get the Senate to decide on anything as quickly as they wanted.
As the hours dragged by and there was still no response, the head terrorist became increasingly volatile and edgy. He paced the length of the dais, sweating and swearing heavily. "Why don't they answer?! They don't think we're serious!" he growled, angrily snatching up the comlink that was their connection to the outside world. "Tell them they have one more hour to meet our demands before we start killing people!" he nearly screamed into the mouthpiece.
"You must be patient, these things take time," the negotiator on the other end tried to reason calmly.
"I have been patient! One hour, do you hear me?" the leader would have none of it.
Twenty minutes later, one of the terrorists brought word that a squad of soldiers was trying to sneak up behind the building.
"Get those men away from here or I'll blow this whole blankedy-blank place!" the leader cursed into the comlink. "You've just lost yourself forty minutes. We start killing people now!" he threatened.
Everyone at the table tensed.
"This chamber is equipped for holo-transmissions is it not?" the leader rounded on Governor Naheel.
Naheel nodded slowly.
"Good," the Venbian sent some of his men to operate the controls. "We're going to send a message that the whole blinking Republic will hear!" he stormed angrily. "Maybe *then* they'll take us seriously!"
The leader walked slowly around the table, sizing everyone up.
Eleven middle-aged men and a teenager.
On the second time around the table the terrorist stopped behind Obi-Wan's chair, forcing the muzzle of his rifle under Obi-Wan's chin. "Get up!" he barked.
Qui-Gon felt his heart clutch up.
Obi-Wan obeyed, slowly rising out of his seat. "You, young spawn of a corrupt empire, how do you feel about dying because of your government's stupidity?!" the terrorist leader demanded, standing behind Obi-Wan with his blaster pressed under the young Jedi's right ear, just above the start of the Padawan's braid.
Obi-Wan's expression remained calm. "It is the pledge of every Jedi to be ready to die that others might live. I would not be the first to fulfill that pledge. I am not afraid."
Qui-Gon's heart ached with both pride and apprehension at Obi-Wan's brave words. *"NO!"* he was screaming inside. *"NO! Not again!"*
"Is that so, Jedi?" the leader sneered, knocking Obi- Wan's head painfully to the side with a swipe of his blaster. "We'll have to see what we can do about that. You will be afraid of us! The whole galaxy will learn to fear us!"
The terrorists forced the other eleven men to rise and move away from the table. Clearing away the chairs, the terrorist stripped Obi-Wan of his tunic and shirt and forced him to lie down on his back on the tabletop. As his men bound the young Jedi's wrists and ankles to the legs at the four corners of the table, the leader turned to address the holo-recorder.
"Hear me! I am Macco Ry! Leader of the glorious Venbian movement! Our planet is overrun by the evil Maltis! We demand justice and an end to this curse! We have been patient, we have given you time, but now you will learn that we are not to be trifled with. Watch and heed well what you are going to see!" Macco ranted.
*"He IS mad,"* Qui-Gon thought in horror. *"He's a lunatic!"* That lunatic had his apprentice tied down to a table and there was nothing he could do about it. The big Jedi balled his hands into tight fists.
Macco pulled a gleaming knife out of his boot, advancing slowly towards the helpless Jedi on the table. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, trying to still his pounding heart. He was not afraid, he was not, he would not allow himself to be! Obi-Wan felt the cool metal against his throat and unconsciously tensed.
Macco smiled, but instead of cutting Obi-Wan's throat he moved the knife over and slashed the veins on the inside crux of the young Jedi's elbow.
Obi-Wan stiffened, but gave no other indication of pain.
Circling the table, the insane leader slit the apprentice's other arm in the same manner, moving the cruel knife down to cut Obi-Wan's wrists and letting the teenager's blood flow onto the table.
"Stop," Qui-Gon moved forward a step. "Let him go, he's just a boy. Take me, it would make a bigger impression on the Senate to kill a Jedi Master, would it not? Isn't that what you want? An impression?" he reasoned desperately.
"No, Master, don't!" Obi-Wan protested from the table.
Macco seemed to consider this for a moment, but then shook his head. "People have an innately protective nature towards the young," he said coldly, holding up his bloody knife. "Let's see if his suffering can move them. I warn you!" he turned back towards the holo-cam. "I am not a patient man! Do you know how long it takes a man to bleed to death? Fifteen minutes! Answer me, or this boy has fifteen minutes left to live!" he threatened.
Turning back to Obi-Wan, Macco deliberately opened a long gash across the boy's chest.
Qui-Gon realized stonily that the madman was not just going for veins anymore. He was going for nerves. He wanted a reaction out of the teenager and was determined to get one.
Obi-Wan steeled himself. Pressing his eyes shut, he tried to close out the pain and focus on his body, willing the dangerous bleeding to stop. Qui-Gon felt what his apprentice was doing and reached out to help him, urging the cuts to clot and the veins to seal off.
Minutes dragged by and Macco grew more vicious as his anger and aggravation mounted. He slashed Obi-Wan's wrists again and again, frustrated by the way the obedient Jedi's body kept sealing the injuries off.
Obi-Wan outlasted his fifteen minutes, but he could feel himself weakening dangerously. His head was beginning to swim from blood loss and the world became hazed in yellow.
Qui-Gon desperately wanted to stop them, but what could he do? If he tried anything it would cost the lives of dozens of innocent people. He could not sacrifice the many for the one, no matter how dear the one was, or how badly he wanted to do it.
Macco, enraged by the Republic's continued stalling and Obi-Wan's obstinate refusal to give in to his torture decided he had let it drag long enough.
With a sudden downward thrust he stabbed Obi-Wan in the chest.
The move caught the young Jedi by surprise. Obi-Wan gave a startled, gasping cry as white-hot pain knifed through him. Macco stabbed him several more times and the world began to fade around the apprentice.
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon cried in anguish as blood began to trickle out of the corner of the young man's mouth.
Only Governor Naheel's hand on his arm brought the incensed Jedi back to his senses enough to keep him from charging up to the table and ripping the knife out of Macco's bloodstained hands.
Naheel caught Qui-Gon's eyes and shook his head sadly. "It's too late," the statesman mouthed, his eyes betraying the depth of his sorrow.
Macco too seemed to know that Obi-Wan was dying, so he cut the cords that bound the teenager to the table. Some of the terrorists hauled the bleeding boy off the tabletop and dropped him at Qui-Gon's feet.
Obi-Wan could not support his own weight and crumpled to the ground when they let go.
Qui-Gon was holding him in an instant, cradling the Padawan close as Obi-Wan's blood stained his tunic red. Obi-Wan melted into Qui-Gon's embrace, coughing fitfully as his punctured lungs filled with blood and his ruptured organs shut down. It seemed to be a race to see which would kill him first.
"My Padawan," Qui-Gon held him tightly, wiping the blood from Obi-Wan's face with the corner of his robe and trying to warm the boy's cold body. "My brave Padawan," he shook his head. "My poor, brave Obi-Wan."
Macco was ranting again, but Qui-Gon was not listening. Right now, his whole world revolved around the bleeding, dying boy in his arms. He could not keep Obi-Wan alive, he knew that, but reaching into the boy's failing body he did his darndest to relieve Obi-Wan's pain as much as possible.
Obi-Wan reached up, holding onto Qui-Gon's arm and leaving a bloody handprint on the big Jedi's sleeve. "I'm so cold Master," he whispered.
Qui-Gon held the boy closer in his arms, wrapping him in both his body warmth, and the warmth of his love.
Obi-Wan smiled faintly. "Master," he murmured, burying his head against Qui-Gon's chest and sounding for all the world like a little child. "I'm tired Master," he lisped distantly. "I can't see you..."
"Then rest Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon soothed gently, running his hand over his Padawan's short hair. "Rest, and I'll see you in the morning," the big Jedi's voice choked.
The morning. One morning left. One last chance. He had failed so far, would he do so again tomorrow?
Slowly, Obi-Wan's hand slid down Qui-Gon's arm. The apprentice was not dead, but he was going.
Qui-Gon reflected somewhat bitterly that if Rylos wanted to punish him, he could have done it in no better way than to force him watch his beloved Padawan die in his arms, not once, but five times.
Qui-Gon sat on the floor, cradling Obi-Wan's body long after it grew cold and lifeless. The hostage situation dragged on for hours, but Qui-Gon no longer noticed what happened. It didn't matter. Obi-Wan was dead. Nothing else mattered.
TBC...
Ohh, ouch, I know. I'm terrible. Stay tuned. One day left, and anything could happen. ANYTHING. :D
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