The Weaving Force: Chapter 45 (Patreon)

Chapter 45:

Taylor:

Denial. Expiration. Unacceptable.

I felt the words, heard them in the foggy blackness enveloping my mind as my lungs burned.

I was going to die.

Expiration. Unacceptable. Trace oxygen. Host Sustainable.

The Force moved and twisted, seeping into my lungs.

I felt it slithering – foreign fingers moving, bending and skittering through my insides.

My eyes snapped open, a scream slipping out, sharp and shrill before I crunched my teeth together so hard I nearly bit my tongue.

I laid there for a moment, frozen in the bed. My hands hurt where they were squeezing the bedding and sheets in white-knucled fists. My chest heaved and jumped as I sucked down frantic gulps of air, reminding myself I could breathe.

The door hissed open.

The light filtered into my room and my human eyes shut tight against the glare even as others sharpened and focused on who was there.

“Vicky?” I hissed in askance, moving to sit up.

She stepped into the room, marching to the side of my bed before sitting next to me, the mattress shifting with her weight.

“...I woke you,” I groaned, rubbing at my head to stave off the adrenaline headache.

She shook her head.

“No… I was… I haven’t gone to sleep.”

I opened my eyes. Vicky didn’t meet my gaze, eyes averted. Then, she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I felt you… having a nightmare. Anything I can do?”

I stared at her, equal parts grateful and guilty.

“I should be asking you that,” I answered. “You heard… a lot.”

I obfuscated where I could. Amelia’s name, for instance, never arose. Not once. A sharp look of mine shut Clock up on the subject damn fast. Other things -like Dragon’s status as an AI, what Cauldron was – fell by the wayside, as well. Not because I was trying to hide that in particular, but simply because there was so much to discuss that it’d fallen by the wayside.

“You remembered a lot,” Vicky answered.

I… wasn’t sure what to say.

“Why did you never tell me?” she finally asked.

“Tell you what?” I answered, snapping as I grit my teeth. “That we were set to be executed by some… fucking alien who was having a bad day? That I turned into… some thing that saw people as insects? That I deliberately put anything I could in its way just to slow it down!? That if we ever find our way home, I’m not even sure if it’s even there anymore? What part of that whole story was worth remembering!?” I snarled.

“You told them!” she answered hotly.

“I don’t care about them!” I hissed. “Am I glad they’re alive? Yes. Am I glad they’re here? Sure. But I don’t care.”

“I’m not made of glass,” Vicky sneered. “I could have handled it!”

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

Vicky took a deep breath. She may have come in because she sensed my nightmare, but this was something that she’d obviously been thinking of since I revealed everything; and it was finding its voice now.

“I promised I wouldn’t look into my memories because I thought it was just… bad things that happened to me. But you were hiding the fact that the whole world might be destroyed, Tay! My friends, my parents, my sister! I had a right to know!”

My insides roiled, guilt and anger curling up into a black ball in my gut. “I didn’t want-”

“What if I was the one that knew!?” she cut me off, tears burning at the corners of her eyes now as she glared at me. “What if I knew, and I never told you that your dad might be dead? Or your Undersider friends? What if I kept secrets from you!”

I winced, because I knew exactly how I’d have reacted, and it sure as hell wouldn’t have been sitting across from Victoria talking about things.

My head bowed, and I felt my own tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

The silence between us felt… heavy… suffocating.

Vicky let it linger, she knew me well enough to know when to let me think and when to push.

“I… don’t want to hurt you,” I admitted.

“I think the secrets are hurting me, Tay. They always have. I could bear it because I didn’t want to push, but…” she shook her head, taking a shaking breath as she turned her head up, away from me and towards the ceiling. “What was so terrible? That I died?”

…

“No,” I admitted after a moment, not daring to meet her eyes to find her staring at me with a plea that would do nothing but cause her pain. “No… you weren’t dead.”

“Captured by Lung or the Slaughterhouse Nine? Crippled by something!? What!?” she cried. “After hearing everything that happened… everything I imagine just keeps going from bad to worse.”

Finally, I mustered my courage, steeling my spine as I brought my head up to look at her. She was crying, I… still wasn’t. Still successfully pushing my expressions into my swarm.

“No matter what you’ve dreamt up… the truth might be worse,” I said. “Once I tell you… I can’t take this back, Vicky. I can’t undo it…” I pleaded with her

I knew the answer before I asked.

Vicky was stubborn, always had been. And her method of dealing with things had been just like mine in a way; head on.

She was too wound up now. Her mind going in a million different directions

She was going to find out if I didn’t tell her. She’d tell me she was going to ask Plo Koon or the other Masters to help her break whatever had obstructed her memories… and she would know.

I took a deep, slow breath.

My mind opened, just as Yaddle’s had done for me just days ago. I coaxed Victoria in, so she would know that I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t making this up to try and spare her feelings. And I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to do this twice.

I would tell her.

As much as I didn’t want to.

As much as it hurt.

“It was Amelia.”

By the time the whole, sordid story was done, Vicky had gone pale and sickly green around her cheeks, shaking her head in muted horror.

“Y-you’re-”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Whether I was lying, or I was wrong, whatever she said was lost in the sudden gorge that rose up, her hand clamping over her mouth as she ran towards the bathroom.

I rushed to get off the bed, following after her as I heard the sound of her retching.

She’d fallen onto her knees in front of the toilet, and I reached over, pulling her hair back as I stood behind her.

She panted as she finished, wiping her mouth before turning, flopping down on her bum and smacking my hand away, her distress making her forget to fully check her strength. I winced at the light slap that nearly snapped my forearm.

I couldn’t be angry, though, or even irritated, not with how utterly haunted Vicky looked in that moment.

“You’re wrong,” she gasped, horror in her voice. “You have to be wrong. You have to be wrong-”

I wasn’t even sure if she was fully speaking to me. Her eyes were shaking in her skull, pupils dilated to pin pricks as she panted like she’d just run a marathon.

I opened my mind again, my thoughts brushing against hers, and Vicky reeled, as though I’d punched her, crawling back until her back was against the wall, curling in on herself as she clenched her eyes tightly shut, hands over her head as if to block out the world and the Force itself.

“No, NO! You have to be WRONG!” she screamed, truly crying now before she opened her eyes and looked up at me. “Sh-she was my sister! My best friend! She-” her voice caught and she went pale again. With my mind as open as it was, I was almost physically struck by the bombardment of visions, of memories. Vicky and Amy as children, as toddlers, young girls, adolescents, teenagers.

They’d shared everything together. Done everything together.

It was the kind of bond people dreamed they could have with their sibling.

I empathized more than even I realized until this moment.

I’d had a sister once, too.

My mind brushed across hers, trying to provide as much comfort and soothing calm as I could, even as I tried to just ‘tank’ the full force of her emotions onto myself, letting her offload her feelings onto me.

I’d caused this, in a way. It was only fair that I helped her deal with it.

The confusion was the worst of it.

Shock was covering up the sadness; anger had no room to form.

It was the confusion that muddled my mind, abject despair making me wince in silence.

A whimper crawled its way out of my throat and I felt Vicky’s alarm as she realized what I was doing.

“T-tay, stop! Stop!”

I felt her hands grab hold of mine, the physical sensation dragging me back from my own mind.

“What are you doing!?” she demanded as my eyes opened.

I fell to my knees in front of her, too exhausted, mentally and physically, to stay standing.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” I admitted. Few tears slipped past my emotional control. “I didn’t want… to ruin whatever was left of home.”

I stared at her and she at me, a million conflicting feelings passing between each of us, and I had to slam shut the defenses of my own mind before we entered into a feedback loop.

“You remembered,” I said, shutting my eyes again as I tried to focus on the Force, my thoughts, and the words to express them. “You remembered something worth remembering,” I said. “And you never even realized how rare and precious that is.”

When I opened my eyes, Vicky’s were wide, staring at me.

“I ruined that just now,” I admitted. “You won’t be able to think of home again without thinking about this. All those memories of better days, or better times with the girl you knew as your sister… they look different now, don’t they?” I didn’t get an answer. I didn’t expect one, either. But her cringe was answer enough.

“I ruined it,” I repeated. “And I don’t think you should be dealing with that alone.”

Vicky shook her head, and when she leaned forward, it was to coil her arms around me in a hug that was borderline painful with her strength, but felt good regardless.

I hugged her back, the two of us sitting on the floors of this stupid guest bathroom as she cried, and I tried to think of some way to fix what I’d broken.

I could sense her surface thoughts, roiling with pain and confusion. She didn’t know what to feel. Let alone how to express it.

Then she found a way.

Just as I’d opened my mind to her, she did it then.

The storm was battering, my hug turned from one meant to comfort to one meant to ground me in the here and now.

I felt everything. Her anger at so much being kept secret, the kernel of gratitude that I’d wanted to protect her from this, the confusion still mixing with the instinctive denial, the self-recrimination that was beginning to form that she must’ve missed something, some sign or some warning,  the immediate guilt that she was already accepting that Amy could have done what I said. The mess of emotion at her realization that I’d kept all this bottled up for years.

Rationalization, rethinking, doubt, sadness, anger, gratitude, fear and… love. For me, and for Amy both. I could feel it all.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pushing all the truth I could into my voice.

I never wanted this.

Vicky cried, sniffles and sobs forming a wet spot on my shoulder as I threaded my fingers through her hair.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated again.

—

In the end, I’m not sure how long we stay on that bathroom floor. But for however long it was, we were both too wound up to sleep when we picked ourselves up, and neither of us wanted to be alone with our own thoughts right then.

So, we walked.

Well, flew. Vicky insisted she needed the feeling of the wind in her hair and the world floating far below to clear her head, and I wasn’t about to begrudge her that.

Even if I needed a bridal carry.

“What was the nightmare?”

“Hmm?” I asked, turning my eyes away from the sprawling sands of the desert across the horizon and towards Vicky.

“Your nightmare,” she repeated softly, offering a nervous, barely there smile. “I went into the room to help. But then we got caught up in everything and… well.”

I started to speak, ready to tell her not to worry about it, that it was nothing.

But she must’ve known.

The look she gave me stopped me cold with nothing but the guilt squirming in my gut at the thought of lying to her again.

I sighed.

“The station.” I admitted. “I… couldn’t breathe.”

She stiffened and her hold on me tightened. I knew her nightmares of that exact same scenario hadn’t fully gone away. I probably just made them worse.

“I’m sorry,” I think I’ve said those words more today than I ever had before, in either lifetime.

“Don’t,” she answered firmly, shaking her head before resuming her forward flight. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to trust me. No more secrets. You promise me that and… and whatever it is, we’ll work through it,” she swore. “... To be honest, with everything you talked about today, I thought Khepri would be front and center, rather than the station.”

“She wasn’t exactly absent,” I mumbled.

Vicky didn’t quite hear me it seemed. “Huh? What was that?”

The deep breath I took was half exasperation, half exhaustion.

“Did you… feel anything?” I asked by way of answer. “When I was-” I hesitated on the word ‘dying’ “-out of it?” I decided. “When you were carrying me? Anything in the Force, or anything strange at all?”

She shook her head. “Not… exactly. But I wasn’t really focusing. I was more trying to just rush to the ship as fast as I could.”

I nodded. “I figured… if you had sensed something you’d have already mentioned it.”

“Mentioned what? You think something messed with you with the Force while you were out? The Sith maybe?” There was yet more concern in her voice.

I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t that…” I rubbed at my forehead. “I’ll ask Masters Plo and Yaddle. Someone must’ve sensed something if it did happen and I wasn’t just delirious through the lack of oxygen to my brain.”

“You can ask Anakin,” she suggested. “He was closest to you, physically. And he’s always been stronger than most. He might have sensed something. But what exactly do you think happened? What’s got you so worried.”

“Look I-” I sighed “-just… let me verify?” I pleaded. I’d already added to everyone’s fucking stress levels today, Vicky most of all. I didn’t want to keep adding to it, especially for something that might very well have just been in my half dying delirium.”

She raised an eyebrow. I was worried she’d insist and push and ask even further questions.

But she didn’t push.

She just nodded. “Okay.”

I looked at her, meeting her eyes. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay,” she affirmed. “You’ve promised to tell me once you’ve made sure… that’s enough for me.”

The tension I hadn’t even realized had been lining my shoulders eased, and I nodded in genuine gratitude.

We kept flying, the silence and the cool night air doing us both some good.

(X)(X)(X)

Satine:

“I see. Grandmaster, this is-”

It wasn’t often Satine found herself struck speechless but this was one of those rare moments.

Of course, it was the one day that Alexandria decided to take a ‘sick leave’– evidently, whatever had been discussed between the parahumans last night must’ve been quite the subject. Her guards reported finding Dennis in a drunken stupor, happy beyond all reasonable measure, and crying just as much. Alexandria hadn’t left her room since last night. Only Hannah seemed to still be ‘normal’ between the three.

Satine’s pride chafed a bit at realizing that she’d come to somewhat rely on Alexandria’s strictly pragmatic views to discern what people’s motivations were, but with everything she knew about the Jedi through Obi-Wan and the Grandmaster’s reputation, she couldn’t imagine this proposal being simply pure politics.

She looked to Obi-Wan. “And what do you think of this- I wonder?” She asked.

Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard “The Sith have returned.” He answered, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “The Jedi must be ready to face that. Making peace- or friendship really, with Mandalore would be a good thing even beyond this reality.”

Satine would have questioned if he wasn’t perhaps obsessing over the Sith- attributing solutions in pursuit of said Sith to situations totally isolated from him.

But then she remembered her own ancient histories. The Sith had used Mandalorians to fight Jedi in the past; and Alexandria had sent Dennis and Militia on that mission when troubling reports kept cropping up on a supposed Sith influencing the Banking clans in supporting the Hutt efforts to harm Mandalore economically.

So- yes, she could see the logic.

Still- “There has never been a Jedi enclave on Mandalore…” She admitted. “In fact there’s never been a Jedi enclave anywhere in this sector of space. The risk alone of Mandalorian raids to test themselves against the Jedi defenders would have been far too high.

“Wish to try- we do.” Master Yoda called. “Different the new Mandalorians profess to be. Proven it you have. A temple on your world, silence doubters; it will. Credibility- it will give.”

Satine could certainly appreciate that reality. But she could also see that it would agitate the last few holdout sects and cults dedicated to opposing her.

Selling out to the Jedi, or Handing Mandalore to the republic’s dogs; was an easy talking point. And that reputation wasn’t uncommon in the outer rim. Jedi, not wholly without reason in some instances- were seen as enforcers rather than peacekeepers.

“I’m… I don’t think I can give an answer immediately. There is far too much to consider.” She finally said.

The Grandmaster nodded. “Of course; careful we must be. Delicate, the balance you’ve struck here still is.”

She was glad he understood and didn’t take offense. That they’d offered this at all was a huge breach in the Jedi’s traditional insular isolationism; and it wouldn’t do to give the impression that they were being… spurned.

The Grandmaster turned towards Obi-Wan. “While discussions, underway they are. Assign you as liaison to Mandalore, I would, Knight Kenobi.”

Satine felt, somehow, her stomach both open up into a pit and flutter with nervous butterflies.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide. “I… would be willing Master- but… you understand my Padawan’s mother, Shmi Skywalker is on planet.” He said. “His attachment to her-”

“Exist it does. Know this we do. Acknowledge it we should. Older your Padawan was when recruited. Adjust- we must to train him properly.” Yoda said

Satine could see the trepidation at the prospect just *dancing* behind Obi-Wan’s eyes. Sitting stiff as a board, the man didn’t feel ready, or even capable of doing what Yoda asked of him.

Still; ever dutiful, the boy she’d once known bowed low.

“If a Mandalorian enclave is established, I would be honored, Master.”

And that was that.

—

Obi-Wan.

By the force what had he just agreed to?

By everything holy he was an imbecile of the highest order.

A permanent posting on Mandalore? Besides Satine?

And what about Anakin!? He’d tried for years to dull his attachment to Shmi but since Anakin found her here three years ago it was only rarely that Obi-Wan could muster the cold aloofness needed to outright deny the boy on the rare moments he genuinely asked to see his mother. Usually he told the boy that they would be too busy training, or were assigned some minor mission elsewhere.

But now? Where were those distractions on Mandalore? Yoda had said that they should acknowledge his attachment, adjust- but what did that even mean? He was training Anakin to be a Jedi and Jedi did not hold attachments.

Corellian hells when Anakin asked Obi-Wan if he could stay with Miss Hannah in order to see Shmi; the thought of saying no hadn’t even brushed across his mind until AFTER he gave the boy permission. A proper teacher would have reminded him of the Jedi code.

But he’d been so… happy. Looking forward to the visit…

How was he even supposed to train the boy in something he himself still hadn’t fully mastered himself? Certainly with… Satine he himself had far too many emotions to properly catalogue to begin with.

And now with Dooku; he felt the death of his Master keenly. Anakin as well, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to advise him.

By the Force; Obi-Wan hadn’t even had the strength to access Dooku’s holocron yet.

The tiny cube sat in the pocket of his robe even now, heavy like a lead weight.

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead; trying to will away the headache that was coming over him like a felucian storm.

When his feet brought him towards the Saxon home, he almost considered walking away, going to his rooms and just… laying there for a good long while.

But no; Anakin should be told of what might be happening in their future. More than that Obi-Wan’s own feelings shouldn’t get in the way of properly teaching his Padawan.

After all, he was the only teacher the boy had left anymore.

So with a firm hand he knocked on the door; it whooshed open in time for him to hear the voice of Victoria Dallon emerging from the living room.

“Who’s a widdle guy! Who’s a widdle guy!? Is it you? Is it you!?”

The blonde’s eyes somehow seemed enormous at that moment, making a silly, happy face towards the little boy who’s hands were happily booping unknown cheeks and smiling lips with a squeal as Vicky’s knees bounced the toddler up and down.

Hannah was there, her own features happy before she turned to him. “Obi-Wan, welcome. Anakin’s in the back with Ms. Hebert right now.”

Obi-Wan nodded, spreading out his senses and indeed finding Anakin just a room away- talking with Hebert.

“Cleaned and ready for visitors.” Shmi’s smile was gentle as she entered the room; rocking a freshly changed baby girl who stared out at the mess of strangers in her livingroom with an aloof imperiousness from her place on Shmi’s shoulder.

That made Obi-Wan smile.

As Shmi handed the girl to her mother, Hannah looked to Victoria. “This is Jen.” She explained, as the girl tucked her face into Hannah’s neck, away from Victoria.

“Aww- is the sweetie pie a widdle shy?” Vicky cooed

“Just a bit.” Hannah laughed. “She takes after her father.”

“Wait-wait.” Vicky grinned. “Big Ol’ slab of muscles at six foot-screw you is shy?” She laughed.

The adopted Mandalorian grinned. “Just a bit.”

Vicky bounced the boy on her knee. “So, Jen and Daryan. I assume Jen is Jennifer?” At Hannah’s nod she continued. “A human name and a Mandalorian name.”

“I named her after- my best friend. You knew her as Mouse Protector.”

“Oh yeah- you guys were part of the original Wards team right?”

“And Daryan was named after Aras’ brother.”

“That’s awesome- still this was a surprise!” Vicky gushed. “I… don’t get me wrong it makes sense and I’m happy for you but I really didn’t expect for you to go full native. Didn’t you- try to get back home?”

Obi-Wan felt he was intruding in this conversation, as Shmi stepped out, heading towards the kitchen; he followed after the older woman.

“We did try but… given everything we knew, or thought we knew about what happened well-”

“No- no I get it.”

He stepped into the kitchen area, well used and well cared for appliances lined the counter, Shmi reached into the cold storage unit, pulling free what must’ve been a local roast of some kind. The slab of meat was well seasoned and ready to be cooked, even uncooked it smelled rather good.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

It took him a moment, to realize he was being spoken to. “I’m sorry?”

“Your Master.” Shmi clarified. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The Knight nodded. “The code teaches us… there is no death. Only the Force.” He answered. “I was hoping it would be… easier. But it feels as hard as the first time.”

“Yes… Qui-Gon died too.” She seemingly reminded herself. “But… forgive me if I’m too forward; but that is not something you should wish for.”

He couldn’t help it… he snorted

“As I said, the code teaches that we join the living force upon our deaths.” He explained. “I should learn to accept that. Not linger on it.”

“Grief and acceptance are not mutually exclusive to eachother, Obi-Wan.” She answered frowning. “You’re allowed to mourn your master. It shows that you cherish his memory.” She explained, moving to unwrap the roast.

He didn’t say anything to that. It wouldn’t serve much purpose to argue with someone who fundamentally did not even know the code or its tennets and how Jedi should live by them.

“I wish-” He found himself saying before sighing. “I wish to be better.” He said. “Not for me… for Anakin. He needs guidance right now and I’m afraid I’m failing in that task already.”

It felt strange, admitting this to the woman that was, perhaps, part of the problem, but if nothing else he could at least trust that she had Anakin’s best interest at heart.

She eyed him curiously “Why?”

Obi-Wan’s self doubts warred with his pride, his need for advice contesting with his desire to simply know what to do, as Qui-Gon always knew. As Dooku always knew.

“Anakin came to you Shmi.” He finally said. “His mother the first day he was here. And yet has never once approached me for the same help I know he sought from you.”

Shmi held her silence for a moment.

“I will not apologize for helping my son.” She finally answered.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Nor should you. The failure is mine.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You do not need to hear this.”

“Perhaps not.” She answered softly. “But I think you needed to say it.” She smiled, just a bit. “Is it helping?”

He turned, looking at her in surprise.

It… actually was helping, oddly enough.

“There’s no manual Obi-Wan.” She continued softly. “There’s no… instructions or a one size fits all solution. If you need to grieve you should. If you need to distract yourself you should do that too. Anakin is in pain, its true; but that shouldn’t be a reason for you to deny your own either.”

“But if I don’t then who can be there for him when we leave you’re not there?”

“Why can you not be there for eachother?”

“That’s…” He sighed. “That’s not how Masters should act.”

“Then don’t be his master.” She urged gently. “For now, until you’re both better…” She shrugged. “Be what you need to be. Father, brother. Or even just his friend; you might find that sometimes that’s all someone really needs.”

Before anything else could be said; Obi-Wan heard a door whoosh open.

“Master!”

Taylor, and the subject that he and Shmi had been discussing emerged from the back room; Obi-Wan caught the troubled look in Taylor’s eyes but didn’t focus overmuch on it as Anakin marched closer.

“How did the meeting with the Duchess go?” His Padawan asked.

Obi-Wan remembered suddenly, why he’d come here.

“It was informative.” He answered diplomatically. “And I came here to discuss part of it with you, we might have an assignment in our near future.”

Anakin’s eyes shown with a new light interested, eager for the distraction.

Obi-Wan looked to Shmi, not wanting to seem rude. “Do you mind if I borrow him for a time?”

The former slave eyed him, just for a second before she smiled that soft smile of hers.

“Of course. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so.’

He nodded, offering a bow and Anakin, refrained from hugging the woman, opting instead to simply ‘bow’ as well before he and Obi-Wan left the apartment.

They walked for a time, back towards the wing he, Yoda, Victoria and Taylor had been assigned.

Technically Anakin had been assigned a room here as well but… well.

Reaching the private common area for just their section of the palace, Anakin crossed his arms, folding his hands into the sleeve of his robes.

“What is it Master?” The boy asked.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth… and didn’t speak.

The world fell away and he was staring down at the curious face of his Padawan, this boy who he was- perhaps failing as a Master and realized… he was being selfish. He was failing.

Though not in the way he’d thought.

It struck him like an epiphany, and before he realized it, his hand reached, pulling free the Holocron and holding it out.

Anakin’s eyes widened, recognizing the device.

Neither of them moved.

Obi-Wan, after a moment, cleared his throat.

“I… I haven’t accessed it.” He admitted. “I thought… perhaps you might like to join me.”

Anakin remained still for a moment, his eyes casting downwards.

“It wont be him-” He said.

“No…” Obi-Wan agreed. A holocron was an amalgamation. Part computer, part simulation, part recording, AI emulation and, of course. The Force. All of their essence and spirit poured through the force into the device.

It was close.

But it was never the real thing.

“-But maybe that can be enough?”

Anakin brought his eyes up, staring at the device for a moment.

Then he nodded.

Obi-Wan sent his energy into the device- and it bloomed to life.

Suddenly, Dooku stood there, completing the triangle between them; looking like he always had. Clothes impeccable, hands clasped behind his back.

“Ahh.” The holo image said somberly. “I see… I am dead then.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes… four days ago now.”

The holo image straightened itself with all the dignity it could muster, false eyes passing over the both of them. “All things die… even I.” He glared, and it was so familiar even as it brought a smile to Obi-Wan’s face it broke his heart all over again.

He felt the echo of Anakin’s pain, and Obi-Wan’s reaching out in the force to try and help was instinctive at that moment.

“Chin up.” The holo said. “Both of you. I would not have you wasting your time moping. It is beneath you both.”

Anakin chortled, half laughing, half sobbing as his shoulder’s shook.

The Holocron Dooku’s eyes shown with a strange, softness- just for a moment, before he looked away, letting Anakin gather himself. “Was it the Sith?”

“It was.” The boy answered that time, lips curled in a sneer.

“Then we have even less time.” Dooku drawled. “We will continue your training as best we can. I was not enough. So you must be better than me. As all teachers wish for their students.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that was possible.

But he would try.

“Now.” The Holocron demanded. “Take your stances. “We will begin with Master Skarch Vaunk’s treaties regarding the seven disciplines…”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin hated reciting the treatise. They’d read it cover to cover, multiple times and could recite several of its passages by heart.

Neither of them complained, for even a single instant this day.

(X)(X)(X)

Before we continue lets get the multiple links "out of the way" ;p

1) There is a link to the discord where all these Patreon chapters can be discussed without needing to worry about spoilers to anyone else

https://discord.gg/aCgRZ7XJ

2) We have a TV tropes page now :D

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/TheWeavingForce

To anyone that has a TV tropes account that can contribute to filling it out it would be much appreciated honestly.

So getting to the chapter, fun facts:

1) We have one more chapter left to go before the arc is finished and we go on break.

2) Tay and Vicky's talk was never supposed to happen. I figured (originally) that Tay would clutch that secret tight to her chest but halfway through writing I realized that given everything that was said, Vicky simply wouldn't accept 'not knowing' anymore. Vicky CAN be a bit more passive than Tay but its not her instinct. She trusts Tay but Tay knows/has to realize that at that point pushing the secret further would be a violation of that trust that Vicky placed in her. 

So; Taylor told her. I tried to convey that it was done out of a genuine desire to spare Vicky pain and the Vicky accepted it at the time as the well meaning gesture it was. Hope I succeeded in that.Neither girl is "out of it" yet. They're both gonna be dealing with all the revelations well into the next chapter (where the team will still be on Mandalore) but I also wanted to convey (and Ihope I succeeded there as well) that the relationship they have built on mutual degrees of trust is still holding strong. It took a hit, but they've been relying on eachother for so long that they're both willing to just *talk* (foreign concept for a Wormfic I know) and try to find an understanding. Anywho, next chapter will be the end of the arc. Expect more lovely interactions between Vicky and Tay; and of course, Clock and Alex who were a bit... out of it this chapter :D