Disclaimer: George Lucas owns STAR WARS and all its wonderful
characters and places.
Notes: Dark!Anakin is channelled within. (My muse has
returned!)
This story can loosely be considered a follow-on from "You
Weren't Supposed To Die", in that the situational themes and
style are similar. Additionally, "Room 244" is counterpoint to
"The Moment" - they are unrelated but similar. Two possible
fates.
There are secrets in this city. Any person will tell you that,
from the ugliest sewer dweller to the oldest Jedi, although the
Jedi always manage to adopt the faraway expression in their
eyes and say that it is not our concern, we concentrate on the
Living Force. Sometimes I just want to laugh.
Coruscant has always entranced me, from the moment I first saw
it as a nine year old boy in the middle of an adventure I'd
only dreamed of. It was the brightest jewel I'd ever seen and
had I not been so full of fear over my future, I would have
danced with excitement when Amidala's ship landed. First
impressions last, even when they belong to a history of ten
years.
And the first impressions hinted at secrets, vast secrets bound
up in the mysterious layers of city and the Jedi temple itself,
whispers from our past that no one is supposed to believe in. I
believe. I hear the whispers, sometimes, they tell me dark
black things and I know that there are potent secrets just
waiting to be uncovered. There is power hidden here.
Obi-Wan, naturally, doesn't believe me. I stopped telling him
of the whispers shortly after my first year on Coruscant,
mainly because he has a way of looking through me to see
something that does not exist. Sometimes I wonder if he ever
really looks at me at all.
Oh, he tried to be a good and proper master, never deviating
from the rule book he pretends doesn't exist, but I can see
through him. I can see through a lot of people and I can even
tell when Mace Windu is withholding the truth. (I wouldn't dare
accuse him of lying, oh no, because that isn't the Jedi way.)
The whole Council frustrates me but not as much as Obi-Wan. The
great Obi-Wan Kenobi, slayer of the Sith at the famous Battle
of Naboo. People tend to forget that I was the one who
destroyed the control ship - if it wasn't for me, the Palace
would have been levelled along with Obi-Wan the Hero.
He's a difficult man to follow. And there are secrets
surrounding him too - secrets about him and secrets in his
eyes. They say he was never the same after his master died.
They say he became obsessed with a memory. I believe it, too.
Every so often, he wanders from the Temple and forbids me to
follow him. I tried it just once and was blasted with a wave of
such admonishment I had a headache for days after. It scared me
away for years and I would pretend not to notice his regular
disappearances. Yet for years, I wondered where he went.
Surely not to meet someone or to indulge in some torrid tryst.
My master must have been castrated at some point because I've
never seen the merest flicker of interest in anyone. Such a
shame, because he's one of the sexiest men I know.
I chuckle, imagining his outraged, "Anakin!" could he hear my
thoughts. Padawans are not supposed to lust after their
masters. But he lusted after Qui-Gon, I know he did.
It's written on his soul and I learnt how to see it.
Every day, I can feel my power growing. Obi-Wan doesn't notice.
He remains in his detached state, in fact, the greatest emotion
I have seen in his face was after one of his disappearances.
Something affects him. I plan to find out his secrets.
I glide through the corridors, shrouded in black. The Force
swirls and shimmers around me and anyone who might look in my
direction would see nothing, a shadow perhaps, but nothing that
would indicate that Anakin Skywalker is stalking his master.
Stalking. What an appropriate term, Obi-Wan is my prey. He
looks frightened, as if he is afraid of being discovered, but
ten long years have passed since my arrival and no one has
uncovered his secret in all this time. Had I not found the
ancient text in my room, I would not be aware of how to draw on
this power to hide myself. I believe there are primeval forces
at work directing me on this path. After all, I am The Chosen
One.
Obi-Wan pauses at an elevator, one which leads from the Jedi
Temple and into the bowels of the city. It seems appropriate
that he would hide there. There are tales that speak of an
entire level being wiped out and no one noticed, because it was
the Underground where things become lost.
I slip into the elevator with him and for a moment, I am
positive I have been discovered. As I squeeze into a corner he
stares straight at me, his eyes wide and troubled. One hand
reaches forward and I shrink back, dodging his touch. He wets
his lips with his tongue, sending an odd thrill through me.
"Master?"
No, Obi-Wan, not your master, although perhaps some day you
will use such a term to address me.
He continues to stare at my shadow as the lift descends through
multiple levels, until I am positive we must be at the surface
level itself. I've only ever been to the surface once before
and that was the most boring trip I've ever been on because the
ground was covered with metal anyway. "Feel the Living Force,"
intoned the instructor. Right. It's more like feel the metal,
sucking the life from everything living on this planet and
feeding it into the jaws of the creatures who lurk below.
The elevator stops with a gentle clang and I nervously glance
around, wondering how stable it is. Obi-Wan quickly exits and
then sidles off down the hall, almost invisible in the
flickering shadows. He's racing, like an insubstantial ghost, a
fleeting mirage with one destination in mind. I must hurry to
keep up with him and when I round a corner, he's gone.
There's nothing before me but a blank wall...and a pit.
Probably an old exhaust vent or something, the walls are
covered with a lecherous dripping slime and the smell is
noxious. I peer over the edge, having to draw on the Force to
make out what lies below. There. A small figure, landing
neatly, as if the drop of five or so stories meant absolutely
nothing.
It's easy for a Jedi to do, so once I am sure Obi-Wan is clear
of the area, I leap over the edge.
One thing my dark shroud cannot hide is the clatter of my boots
hitting the metal floor and Obi-Wan, at the end of the
corridor, turns in alarm. Desperate for inspiration I gaze
around wildly, my eyes falling on a side tunnel. With a flick
of my wrist an apparition of a swamp rat pokes his nose around
the corner before scurrying away. Obi-Wan looks immensely
relieved and then his face rearranges itself into that
frightening intensity and he continues onward.
This place is another of Coruscant's secrets. I sense that more
strongly than ever before. As we continue travelling down
corridors I become aware that this place has remained free of
sentient habitation for many years. Obi-Wan is the only one who
travels down here and I suspect that had I not been following,
I would never have stumbled across it. Sometimes, parts of the
universe can be hidden from those not looking for it. We pass
door after door, each one labelled with a number. There is no
obvious pattern to the numbering - I go by 4, 1563 and 72
within a few short paces. Finally, Obi-Wan pauses in front of a
door absent of features save for its number. 244. He places one
hand against the blank entrance and pushes. It silently slides
aside, exhibitive of well-kept mechanics. I am not close enough
to see inside before it closes with nary a click.
And then I am alone in a dim, mouldy corridor far deeper
undercity than I ever wanted to be.
I shake off the Force-spell - it drains my energy and I need
time to recover. If his past trips are any indication, I know
that Obi- Wan will be inside for a while to come, and I have
nothing to do but hide out here until he is gone.
Unless.... I press my ear to the wall, not daring to reach out
with the Force, and thankfully, sounds travel through the thin
metal. Mechanic sounds, droids greeting Obi-Wan in the fawning
way that only droids can. "Master Obi-Wan, it is so good to see
you!" simpers one of them, the voice triggering a flash of
memory which I ruthlessly ignore. I do not want to remember
C-3P0 holding the lifeless body of my mother.
"What have you to report?" Obi-Wan all but snaps. His voice,
typically so empty and devoid of life, holds a surprising note
of hope and intrigued, I press closer to the wall.
"We have attempted Experiments 4536 through 4577."
"And?" Obi-Wan is holding his breath.
"The results have been negative."
There's a weary sigh, as if Obi-Wan expects this response. My
curiosity is piqued even further. Experiments? What could my
master be experimenting upon? New Jedi techniques...but he
wouldn't use mechanoids for that. Is he building something?
Growing something? I listen more closely.
"What about the crystals I brought back from Cytocia?"
There's a pause, and the gentle swish of Obi-Wan's robe
crossing the floor. Tapping noises and perhaps every droid
within the room is holding its breath until Obi-Wan explodes.
"Nothing? Nothing? I refuse to believe it!" There's a crashing
noise as if he's thrown something to the ground.
"Master Obi-Wan, it may be time to realise that no solution
exists..."
"No," Obi-Wan interrupts vehemently. "You will run the next set
of experiments and you will not stop until I visit here
again. We will find the key." His voice drops an octave
and it becomes wistful, melancholic. "Someday...."
He's crossing the room again; I hear the gentle tap of his
boots on the floor. Then he stops, his cloak rustles and an
image flashes into my mind of Obi-Wan with his hands pressed
against a glass barrier. "I miss you, Master," he says quietly.
A long time passes in silence.
Then suddenly he's coming back towards the door. It seems
today's visit is over and I quickly re-enable my Force shroud,
slipping down the corridor in the opposite direction of our
earlier entrance. The myriad of walls continues and I wonder,
just briefly, what other secrets lurk here before my attention
returns to Room 244.
Obi-Wan opens the door. His shoulders are slumped over, he
looks grey, defeated. It's the empty air I know so well. He
doesn't even bother to check the corridor as he wearily walks
back to the exit and I wonder how he will find the strength to
make the leap necessary to reach the upper levels.
And then I am alone, faced with a mysterious door holding
answers to at least one of Coruscant's great secrets. My heart
is pounding as I approach it, checking again for Obi-Wan's
presence and finding him long gone. I throw off the spell and
push, gratified to see the door quietly slip aside.
A laser bold whizzes past me. "Halt!" commands a voice and I
comply, not willing to risk my future on a trigger-happy droid.
I suspect that Obi-Wan would not program them to kill but one
can never be too sure, especially given that the master might
just be insane.
"I am Padawan Skywalker," I say meekly, making my eyes as wide
as possible. Even droids fall for the guileless blue. "I am
Master Obi-Wan's apprentice and he asked me to give you new
instructions for the experiments." I keep my eyes carefully
forward even though I am longing to look around.
The droids, foolish creatures, tilt their heads from side to
side in an approximation of humorous human behaviour. I have
little tolerance for such mannerisms but know I must bide my
time. "That does not compute," says a droid, the one holding
the blaster. He shoulders it higher. "You will leave
immediately."
"As you wish," I say, waving my hand. Oh, what a pity, the
droid seems to have blown its servo-motor. Small tendrils of
smoke drift from its body and another droid covers it with
extinguishing fluid.
"As I was saying," I address the remaining droids who appear to
have been built for delicate work rather than defence, "I am
here with my master's authority to give you new instructions
for your work." I pause. "First, I must assess the status of
your current intiatives. Master Obi-Wan has not been himself of
late." To my surprise, a droid, one of those fussy protocol
types, agrees. "Master Obi-Wan may be ill indeed," it says. I
hide my smile, thankful for the programming that causes droids
to do all that is possible to 'protect' their owners from
possible harm or danger, even from within. I take its words as
permission to proceed and step forward, allowing the door to
silently slide closed behind me. I am in room 244.
I gaze around. The expected workbench, control equipment, and
there, to the left, the shadowy part of the room. Dim beams of
light are shining from a reflective surface and I must adjust
my angle to see what truly lies within. Another step forward,
moving inexorably towards the tank.
I pause, the sound of my blood thundering in my ears. There is
not...it is not...not possible! Not permissible!
And finally, everything makes sense. The tank is filled with a
viscous red liquid, vaguely reminiscent of bacta, but it
appears more gelatinous, ideal for keeping a specimen in
suspended animation for a lifetime. For that's what it is. A
specimen. Not a man any longer, not after all of this time.
I slowly wander around the tank until I am face to face with
the creature who floats in this jar. His eyes are closed and
breathing apparatus inflates his lungs at regular intervals.
Another monitor indicates that his heart is beating. A slow
smile curves across my face. "Hello, Master Qui-Gon," I say.
Pressing my hands against the glass, I sense Obi-Wan's
frustration and fury at his inability to do anything, and yes,
I sense his tears as well. How many times has he stood in this
exact same spot, staring at his former master, willing him to
wake up? But that will never happen. I can see the past, it's
woven into the very fabric of the air and glass, a tragic
history tracing back to that moment on Naboo.
Qui-Gon, or more correctly, his body, is exactly as I recall
it. The proud warrior, apparently not having aged a day. I
frown as I stare at the liquid again, knowing that such
longetivity products are strictly forbidden on Central Worlds.
Then again, preserving the body of a Jedi is also forbidden and
that certainly didn't stop Obi-Wan.
Who did we burn? The question flies into my mind as memories of
that night return. I stare up at Qui-Gon's body, wondering if
perhaps Obi-Wan has developed a clone. The floating man is
naked, scars of lightsaber burn pale pink on his chest. It must
have taken much energy for Obi-Wan to reconstruct the flesh,
coaxing it to grow, but he could not coax back the life. The
scars, the soft lines on the face, the length of hair - all
serve to prove that this is the body of the Qui-Gon Jinn we
knew.
Perhaps it was an illusion which burnt on Naboo. Obi-Wan was
alone with the body for hours, I recall, and Amidala later told
me that he needed time to grieve. It seems that grieving was
not all he did. In that small space he managed to secret
Qui-Gon's body away, construct an elaborate replica, and
convince even the most revered of Jedi that he had accepted his
master's death. No wonder there were no tears at the funeral.
Obi-Wan still had hope.
A hopeless hope, though. I know this even as I assess the
abomination before me. Blood runs through its veins, oxygen
inflates its lungs at the slow pace suspended animation
requires, but there is no spark, no life. Nothing of Qui-Gon
Jinn remains but the empty shell.
I wonder if I can rectify that. My thoughts travel down the
path that Obi-Wan must have taken a hundred, a thousand times,
that memory exists within the cells of the body, and memory
must be triggered to animate the shell. But can it call back a
soul? Can anything restore a soul?
I never saw Qui-Gon's spiritual form. Yoda told me it was
because his death had been unexpected. "Too proud, was Master
Jinn. Did not believe he was mortal. Ready he was not."
But what if it was more than that? What if he was trapped
because his body had not been released?
What if his spirit does linger? Perhaps Obi-Wan is right.
Again, I circle the specimen, this time with a new gleam in my
eyes. Obi-Wan's droids have failed in their experiments but
they do not have the resources of a Jedi. I know my powers are
greater than that of Obi-Wan's.
What would he do if I brought his master back? Would he look at
me? Would he respect me? Would he see me for who I am
rather than Qui-Gon's last request?
Imagine what the Council would say. They could ignore me no
longer, I am Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One! The Chosen One.
They need me, I have a destiny and I deserve not only
their recognition, but their adulation.
And Qui-Gon Jinn, the great Jedi, the only father I ever knew.
He would care for me. He's the only one left in the universe
that could ever since her royal highness began making eyes at
Bail and told me that I was only a boy.
I am facing Qui-Gon again and his eyes are still closed but I
imagine that steadfast blue looking out at me. "Come now,
Ani..." he said. He would want this. I close my eyes, and I
reach.
The Force wraps around me like the comforting cocoon it is, but
this time it is not enough, I need more. The light energies
cannot touch what I have to do so I call on the darker power,
the power that everyone warns me about, but they do not realise
how loyal this power can be. Whenever I call upon it, it
recognises me, it surrounds me like a lover and I do not
understand how it could be bad. It whispers in my ear and this
time, I whisper back.
I reach further outwards, sending my sight and the Force into
Qui- Gon's body, sensing his form jerk with the sudden influx
of energy. That's right, Qui-Gon, allow your heart to beat
naturally, suck in the air of your own accord. Let my thoughts
run through your veins, capturing the echos of your thoughts,
merge with me, master, hear the call of the Force and return.
You are there, I sense you. You're watching silently and a
frown crosses your face, Master, do not be sad. I am returning
you to your natural state and you can atone for your great
mistake. I reach again and pull and I feel you inside of
me and we are mixed, together, with the power of the Force and
I can hear the screaming, the screaming!
And then it rushes away and the winds die down and I once again
realise where I am. If droids could look terrified, these
would, they are huddled in a corner. The room glows softly.
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