fragmentsofthegalaxy | This hopelessness that drowns all that I believe

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This hopelessness that drowns all that I believe

“What? No!” Siri’s voice was ragged, shock and disbelief at the verdict painfully open in her words. They’d found her guilty. No matter her protestations, no matter Obi-Wan’s protestations, Ahsoka’s, Anakin’s... they’d found her guilty. Said that the evidence spoke of her guilt. She was the culprit, there could be no other. As though she could EVER do such a thing to the Temple.

But they thought she had it in her. That she had Fallen, that she had Fallen so far as to attempt to destroy the one place she could call home. The one place she could belong.

Force, she couldn’t breathe for the ache in her chest. Her heart. Despair and desolation in equal measure overwhelmed her, and she gazed numbly at the ground, any more passionate words in her own defence dying in her throat. There was no point. They’d found her guilty. Guilty of treason, sedition against the Republic, murder... conspiracy to commit murder, escape from custody...

And the sentence was death.

She offered no resistance as she was roughly herded away by the guards, heedless of the injuries she’d suffered. She was stunned, her faith in the Order shaken, fractured.

Defeated.

They would claim, no doubt, that she put up resistance and they had to use force to subdue her when it came time for them to place the binders that would cut her off from the Force until her execution on her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. No matter how much her instincts screamed at her to fight, to escape and prove her innocence... she couldn’t.

The Order had failed her. And that wound cut far deeper than any physical injury she could ever suffer.

The guards tossed her carelessly into her cell, and she could barely do more than clumsily try and take the fall as the hypo injection took hold, sending her spiralling into unconsciousness.

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She gripped his hand tightly, clinging to him (although she would never admit that aloud) and following his lead. The Force was the only thing keeping her moving, letting her keep pace with him as he ran.

That... and Obi-Wan himself. His hand was warm in hers, grounding her in a way she wasn’t aware she needed.

The fact that they owned little did make escaping easier. Obi-Wan had stashed what little he had and some food outside the Temple and grabbed the satchel as they passed. They were out of the Jedi stronghold, but not out of their easy range. They needed to get offworld immediately to begin investigating what was going on.

It was probably an indicator of just how much and how deeply the recent events had affected her, and what sort of shape she was in that she followed him in silence. They would come for her. For them. By helping her he had condemned himself to being painted with the same brush as she had been. At the very least they would call him traitor. To the Republic. To the Order.

And he’d come anyway.

For her.

"I've arranged a ship," he told her. "From the Under City." He pulled her along through the streets, and then down. Down and down.

At least for a while. They had only just entered the Under City when she drew him to a halt, pulling him out of sight into an alleyway. “Wait.” She was breathless and unsteady, and needed a moment to catch her breath. To draw more deeply on the Force, bolstering her strength so she could keep pace with him. He had risked everything, given up everything to rescue her.

She would not slow him down.

But she needed a moment.

"Siri, we don't have time."

They could track them from the Temple in the Force until they got far enough away. This was not far enough away.

"We have to go. We have to go now." Or all this had been for nothing.

He was right. Force, he was right. Nothing mattered but getting safely away. So she opened herself more deeply to the Force, drawing on it as strongly as she could manage. It was a risk; such constant and excessive use of the Force would have long term side effects.

But she could deal with them later.

Once they were safe.

She nodded, and started moving again.

When they reach the small, private hangar, Obi-Wan hands a scruffy, scarred man a handful of credits and guides Siri onto a freighter that's clearly seen better days. But it will get them out of the system. He walks to a room at the back, small quarters with two bunks that he'd seen when he came to inspect the ship before making the deal.

"Take the bottom." She had to be exhausted and fighting the last of the drug in her system. She didn't need to be climbing.

Siri nods, but makes no move to settle onto the lower bunk. “I will, once we’re off planet.” Out of the system, more likely, but off planet will do to start. If she lets herself go, lets herself relax, and release the Force, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen. She’s barely holding herself together as it is, relying heavily on the Force and sheer stubbornness to do so.

It would be better to wait, until they were off planet, away from Coruscant, so she could still help, still DO something if it’s required. They’ve staged a jailbreak, after all; she is, no doubt, going to be the Republic’s most wanted once they realise it.

She can’t collapse. Not yet.

"You will now! There's nothing more for you to do, save rest. You'll need your strength."

If she does herself permanent damage, she won't be able to help clear her name.

"Do not forget the ultimate goal in this. It is not escaping the planet. The ship will take off in a moment. I can manage anything that comes up."

“Kriff, Obi-Wan, if I...” She touched her tongue to her lips and drew more deeply on the Force. “If I let myself rest, if I release the Force... I don’t...” She doesn’t know what will happen. Can she afford to be incapacitated, however briefly, during their attempt to clear her name?

But she doesn’t have the energy to spare for arguing with him, either. And she knows him, knows that once he’s set his mind to something he’s every bit as stubborn as she is. So she, for once, gives in, sinking wearily down on the bunk.

And she lets go of the Force.

She all but collapses back, her strength gone, breath coming in unsteady, hitching gasps. She’s dizzy, and shaking, and kriff, she hurts.

Edited (wording choice) 2015-01-03 11:49 (UTC)

And he knew that she would. He could feel how deeply she was holding on to the Force. It had to come and now, on the verge of a long space voyage, was better than later, when their lives could be in danger and she simply couldn't hold on any longer.

He moved quickly from the cabin to watch take-off from the cockpit, to keep an eye on the instrument panels, then, once they had broken atmosphere, he went back to the room and locked the door, pulling a bag out of the footlocker and changing into civilian clothing. Then he laid on his own bunk above her, but he kept his senses open. He stood guard, as it were. Just in case.

It took more energy than she had to spare to shift onto her side, curling up into a ball, her hand fisted into the bunk’s bedding as she struggled to control her breathing. She was still fighting the exhaustion, although without the Force she was fighting a losing battle. Her endurance was tapped.

There was no stopping the reaction from setting in.

She barely noticed Obi-Wan’s departure, or his return, so overwhelmed with fatigue and the emotions that threatened to choke the breath out of her. It was the warmth of his presence on the bunk above her, the reassurance that he was still there, that finally eased her battle against exhaustion, and let her slip into a restless sleep.

The only thing Obi-Wan looked for on this initial leg of the journey was that it would be long and take them far. The next morning, they were still deep in space and nowhere near their next port of call. They needed time to formulate a plan. Time on the move, where they couldn't be found.

Once unconsciousness took her, Siri barely stirred at all until morning. And even when she finally woke, she was still weak and unsteady, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat as she fought to push herself up, and off the bottom bunk, choking back a keening cry of pain as the movement made white-hot agony pulse through her injuries. Her connection to the Force was tenuous at best, and even THAT was a struggle; it was almost painfully non-existent when she didn’t.

"Don't strain yourself. You need to recover before we reach port. You only have three more days. You have to rest."

He jumped down gracefully from his bunk and riffled in his bag. "A change of clothes. I had to guess at your size." He'd never purchased women's clothing before. "I hope they fit."

“I’ve been resting,” she retorted. But there was no denying that she needed more, that her body craved it. Despite the fact that she’d already spent far too long sleeping, she was still exhausted.

She raised an eyebrow at him, although her crooked smile was amused as she reached out to take the change of clothes from him. Her smile faded, and she frowned at the unsteadiness of her hands. Force, she hated this. Exhaling tiredly, she started to struggle to her feet.

Obi-Wan looked at her with concern, then pushed her gently back down with a hand on her shoulder. He took the clothing from her.

"Put them on later. Rest. You need to rest."

The fact that she couldn’t fight against the gentle pressure of his hand pushing her back down to the lower bunk only served to crystallise just how weak and listless she was. Being cut off from the Force for so long, and then using it so intensely had taken far more of a toll than she had anticipated.

“Kriff,” she muttered, frustration evident in her voice.

"Sleep."

He hopped back up onto his bunk.

"Rest."

She huffed an exhausted laugh, sinking back down onto the bed and curling up gingerly on her side. Kriff, she hurt. Sleep overcame her easier, this time, but it was not restful. She dreamt of her incarceration, of her escape that first time, trying to prove her innocence. She dreamt of her trial.

She dreamt of the explosion.

He felt her restlessness. Slowly, carefully, he reached into the Force, into her mind, and infused it with a sense of calm. A deep breath. Calm and safe.

She would know his presence anywhere. Even exhausted and asleep, barely able to reach the Force, she would know his presence. She took a hitching, unsteady breath, exhaling as tension eased out of her, restlessness easing just a little.

Safe.

She was safe.

She was safe with him.

He put the clothes over the foot of her bed, then went back to reading the evidence over, looking for clues as to who actually did it. The only thing he felt they were right about was that it came from inside the Temple. But who would betray the Order?

When she woke next she felt slightly more… human. She was still exhausted, and hurting, and the backlash from everything still lingered (the betrayal still ached), but she felt more like herself than she had since…

Since.

Brushing blonde hair back off her face, she pushed herself wearily upright, a quick brush of her mind against his in the Force, to reassure herself.

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