It was there she saw it. In the mirror bright, polished metal of the torture chamber walls.... the eyes of a Sith looked at her own reflection in utter horror.
They were her mother's eyes.
In her head, faintly, someone laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
"No. Oh, no...."He got to me. He got to me. I'm not safe, I'm a danger- I'm- I failed, I hurt Cyraas-
Zashii yanked away from his warm supporting arms. "Get- Get Ryza to- to my ship, superior medical equipment, kolto tank- I- I- I have to-I'll be back-"
She vanished. Cyraas leaped forward to keep her from running and swore as he missed her by less than half a second.
And she was gone.
Zashii ran.
Down the wrecked path they carved through Shadowtown, away, away, far away, hands and lungs burning, her battle wounds screaming at her with every step, but she kept running.
The laughing in her mind never stopped.
She was forced to a halt somewhere in the bowels of the city, gasping, winded even for a Jedi. A dark alleyway beckoned; she slipped into it and sank agianst the wall of the building by her. Ragged heaving breathes turned to sobs.
What had she done?
WHAT had she DONE?
All those people, needless, needless, and I took pleasure in it- I remember- it felt so good- I was almighty and powerful and- I hurt Cyraas. Ryza was terrified of me. That soldier boy...
Laughter.
"YOU. You did this, didn't you? You did this to me!"
No. I didn't have to. I just... released what was already there, the laughter said. Does that make you mad, little Zash? Does it make you angry?
She stopped. She was angry. His mockery hit home in her still raw soul.
Are you even aware that you're going insane? it pressed. No one could blame you, of course, the fate of the entire ORDER rests on you, after all... Little blonde breaking Zash, chipping at the edges, what will your colors show?
"My name," she ground out, "is ZASHII. Not. Zash." It didn't occur to her how crazy she looked, scorched and wild eyed, talking to nothing.
Are you sure?
The Jedi opened her mouth to say of course, and stopped. She looked at her burned, ruined, oozing hands.
I thought as much. It's a pity your boyfriend snapped you out of it. I was so looking forward to seeing what you would do. Oh well. I think we'll be talking agian.
"No, we most certianly will not."
Clenching her teeth, she kneeled in the filthy alleyway, surrounded by the stink of the city underbelly. And the consular closed her eyes.
Her body appeared in her mind's eye, broken and burned. She went deeper. Light green light flickered in her.... shot through with sickly yellow, stemming from the brain. Injuries showed as dull brown blotches.
You can't stop me.
I can try, she thought, and went looking for the door she kept HIM sealed behind. It was cracked, and oozing out from under it, a black oily mass that bubbled and writhed, alive in and of itself.
Sick horror made her stomach churn when she realized the tips of her fingers were black and oily as well, stretching out to meet the central body. Zashii looked down. Fishhooks, a hundred thousand of them, some linked to the lives of those she guarded from the Plaugemaster, some entirely her own. They were nailed to the door.
She took a breath- and slammed the metal door shut on the thing. It screamed, and so did she, pain blossoming everywhere all at once as the fishhooks nearly ripped free of her. Some even did, not the other masters, but others, taking chunks of bleeding flesh with them. Something roared behind the door, threatening to force it open.
YOU CANNOT WIN!
I don't have to win. I just have- to- stop- you!
BOOM!
The door locked into place. Faith screaming could be heard behind it. Little black questing fingerlets still slid under the bottom, though, but.... for now...
She opened her eyes. The laughter was echoingly silent for the first time in......
In...
Zashii couldn't remember.
Taking a shaky breath, she called an old coke can to her, using the sleeve of one robe and the Force to wipe it clean without touching it with her raw hands.
Green eyes, blessedly green eyes, stared back at her from a bloodshot haggard face. She sagged. Thank the Force.
She just sat there for a bit. Time went a little funny for her; she may have lost conciousness from exhaustion. Still, eventually she made herself stand. Her lightsaber floated to her. Zashii activated it.
.................Nothing.
What??
It clicked but that was all. Frowning, she undid the case.
In the center of the weapon, the black and gold crystal that lay in the heart of every Jedi's blade stood dull and lifeless- bisected by a big wide crack that nearly split it in two.
For a long time, she just stared.
Then, with a deep, shaky breath, Zashii pulled herself together, tried to straighten her spine and lift up her chin. Very gently she put the broken lightsaber into her robe pocket and started a sore, limping walk back to the spaceport.
Cyraas was overjoyed to see her, despite the scare. She couldn't help but notice with a little flinch how he glanced at her eyes, checking the color, before he let her in. He saw her do it and cupped her face.
"Glad t' have y' back, Master Jedi."
He made her sit as he fixed her wounds. She was frankly too tired to care that she had to remove her robe to do so, leaving her in her breastband and underwear, and let him treat her with silence. She didn't even fight when he ordered her to go 'get some kriffing rest already woman, yeesh'- but she did stipulate that it be on the biobed next to Ryza, sleeping peacefully under a sedative.
Perhaps it was because the laughter was gone -or maybe it was that Cyraas sat on a chair next to her- but she was dead to the world the moment her head touched the pillow. On the counter, her lightsaber and the broken crystal sat, just as still as she.
