The last thing I felt was the cold reaching my chest, wrapping around my heart.
Then something slammed into my skull from the inside.
It felt like a sledgehammer to the temple. The lights came back on all at once and my eyes actually started working again.
Then of course,I screamed. You would have too.
Because suddenly I could feel what was left of my body.
Peeled. That was the only word for it. Stripped down past skin, past muscle, past the idea of physical form entirely. Black sludge clung to me in sagging sheets, sliding off in slow drops that never reached anything below. There was no below. No ground. No direction. Just an endless, churning void and me, suspended at its center like a specimen pinned to nothing.
I tried to move. Resistance was everywhere. Thick and alive and pressing from all sides. Every twitch sent agony shrieking through me, like my thoughts themselves were being dissected one strand at a time.
Inside my skull, something was working.
Sawing.
A steady pressure pried at the layers of my consciousness, forcing open gaps that were supposed to stay closed forever. Thoughts slipped away the moment I tried to hold them. Words fell apart before I could finish forming them.
I am—
The thought broke into pieces
I am Ezra.
No.
I am Alex.
That second name jolted through me and immediately started blurring at the edges. I felt a surge of panic as Ezra and Alex started grinding against each other like two gears trying to turn in opposite directionsy.
I am Ezra.
I am Alex.
I am—
Whatever was in here with me moved in closer.
It had no shape. It didn't need one. It was weight and attention and hunger, filling every direction at once, surrounding me so completely that the concept of escape became meaningless. I felt something that might have been fingers slide into my thoughts, peeling back layers with slow, intimate cruelty.
Something suddenly tugged at a layer of my consciousness that I didn't even knew existed. And tugged it so hard that I felt it break. Something swarmed in the moment it did, as if an parasite finding its target.
Suddenly the world around me broke.
The emptiness folded up and turned into a sandy settlement covered in bodies and blood. I knew this place from somewhere recently, but the memory was floating just out of reach.
The scene began to move.
Backward.
Moments rewound in jerks and stutters. People walked in reverse, mouths opening before words vanished back inside them. Blood flowed up instead of down.
Dark cracks started spreading across the view like ice breaking on a lake. As the branches grew, the faces of the people blurred and their voices dissolved into white noise.
An ache started throbbing in my chest.
I was being robbed of something..
The worst part was not knowing what I was losing, even though I could feel the gap widening. I tried to grab the slipping thoughts, but they had no physical substance to hold onto.
The playback sped up, drawing fire back into intact buildings. Dead men walked backward, returning to the moments before they were killed.
The black branches spread faster now, crawling over everything, staining the sky itself a sickly grey. Each new line made the ache worse, heavier, a weight settling behind my eyes that threatened to crush me from the inside.
I reached for a familiar face and only found the vague feeling that the person was important.
I was losing something important.
I let out another scream as the grinding in my head got faster and more violent. The thing in my mind was digging deeper now, tossing things around like it was looking for something specific.
The world rewound again.
The scene collapsed and rebuilt itself.
Lothal.
That name should have meant the world to me, but the definition vanished before I could grasp it. I was left with a lingering feeling that I should care, but I didn't know why.
Streets ran backward. Buildings rebuilt themselves. Years peeled away in seconds.
Then she appeared
She had blue skin and lekku over her shoulders. She was smiling for a moment, but then suddenly sliding backward through a door while fighting invisible hands. Her silent scream turned back into a closed mouth as time kept retreating. I tried to grasp her hand but I couldn't move.
The pain in my ribs meanwhile felt like a physical knife being twisted.
I knew her.
I knew her. I knew her. I knew—
The black lines raced across her face before I could grab hold of the name.
"No—" The word tore out of me. "No, wait, don't—"
The scene rewound faster. The struggle undid itself. She stood in a workshop, tools in her hands, looking over her shoulder with a smile that made something inside me crack open.
I knew that smile.
I had loved that smile.
The black lines spread across the workshop walls, eating the details, erasing the texture of the moment. The ache turned into something closer to desperation.
"Please," I begged, though I didn't know who I was begging. "Please, I need to remember—"
You don't need these.
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, layered and wrong, sliding into my thoughts like oil into water.
These are distractions. Weights holding you down.
The scene kept rewinding. I saw her laugh at something I must have said. I saw her hand reach out to ruffle my hair. I saw her curled up on a worn couch, reading, while I sat at her feet pretending to work on some device.
Domestic. Comfortable. Safe.
Each moment blackened and crumbled as the lines ate through them.
"Stop," I gasped. "Stop, please, I don't—I need those, I need to remember—"
Y̷͙̣̚ō̶͕͚̑ṷ̶͕̅̔ ̷̡̿͗d̸̗̍̽o̸͈͋̕n̶͔̂'̵̹̄͒ͅt̴̹̘͋ ̵̻͉̉͛n̷̠͇̈́̽e̴̗͖̎ē̴̹͈d̴͎͔̉ ̶̞͍̈́ȏ̷ͅt̶͈̝̄h̷̛̖̹è̶̝r̶͐͜s̶̜͛
The voice was almost gentle now, crooning, maternal in a way that made my skin crawl.
M̴̯̂o̸͎͝t̷͈̿h̴̩̚e̵̮̋r̷̪͋ ̵͓̾i̸̘̽s̷͍̓ ̸̧̉ḁ̷̀l̴̝̈l̶̫̾ ̷̧̐y̶̳̏o̴̮͠ù̷̠ ̶̦̏n̶̥̑e̴̝̒e̸̳̊d̵̥͝.̶̥̒
"I don't know who you are," I choked out. "I don't know what you want, just stop, please—"
I̶ ̵w̷a̴n̸t̷ ̷t̷o̵ ̵h̴e̴l̴p̷ ̸y̵o̷u̶,̴ ̶l̶i̵t̸t̶l̴e̷ ̶o̴n̶e̶.̴ ̵A̷l̵l̶ ̸t̷h̶e̸s̶e̸ ̵b̶r̷o̶k̷e̸n̷ ̵p̷i̸e̴c̴e̴s̶.̸ ̶A̸l̵l̸ ̴t̵h̶e̶s̴e̷ ̷s̶c̴a̴t̷t̵e̷r̶e̵d̴ ̴m̴e̵m̴o̴r̸i̸e̵s̸.̶ ̶T̷h̴e̵y̷ ̸o̴n̵l̵y̵ ̷c̵a̵u̷s̶e̴ ̷y̸o̴u̴ ̴p̸a̸i̶n̵.̵
The workshop dissolved. A small apartment took its place. The blue woman was sleeping, and a child, eight or nine—was curled against her side, face peaceful.
The black lines crept across the blanket. Across the pillow. Toward her face.
"DON'T!"
I lunged for the memory, trying to throw myself between her and the encroaching darkness. My hands passed through everything. I couldn't touch her. Couldn't protect her.
S̴h̸e̶ ̵l̴e̸f̶t̴ ̵y̴o̶u̸, the voice whispered. Ṫ̸͚h̶͕̾e̷̤̍y̴̻̑ ̵̳̌a̷͚͘l̷̗̓l̴͕͘ ̵̜̚l̶͉̔e̸͇͐a̶̧̓ṽ̶̻ḛ̴͂.̷̝͛ ̵͙̏T̸͉͆h̵̟́e̵̠̽y̷̓͜ ̷͙̀ȁ̵̢ĺ̸̻l̷͚̍ ̸̙̚d̸͎̃i̶̙͗s̷̝̈́a̵̙͑p̵͈͝p̸͖̂e̵͍͂a̴͉͝ṛ̷͛.̶̟͗ ̶̜̿B̶̭́ụ̸͒t̷̂͜ ̴͓͝I̵̙͘ ̶̗͗n̷̮͋ē̸̱v̷̜̆e̶̢̅ŕ̷̖ ̷͓̇w̷͈͛ì̴̝l̵̝̏l̴͔̑.̶̰͌
"She didn't leave," I snarled, even as tears I couldn't feel burned paths down my cheeks. "She was taken, she was—I was supposed to save her, I was supposed to—"
L̴̡͗ẹ̸͝t̸̠͠ ̴̗̿m̷̢͒ẻ̶͇ ̸̩͒i̸͉͐ņ̷́.̸̻̿ ̶͚̀C̵͇͌o̸̖͝m̸̬͛e̵͕̅ ̸̢͠i̷̻͂ṅ̷̤t̴̳̽ơ̵̗ ̶̻̎m̵̖̅y̷͚͝ ̵̬̊e̶̢̓m̶̰̓b̴̥̀r̸̯̃à̶̺č̸̮e̸͙̎
The word landed like a hammer.
Y̷o̷u̵ ̷f̵a̶i̸l̸e̸d̵ ̷h̶e̷r̸.̴ ̶Y̴o̴u̷ ̵w̴i̶l̸l̶ ̵f̵a̴i̷l̷ ̸e̶v̶e̷r̷y̵o̴n̸e̴.̶ ̵B̶u̸t̵ ̷t̴h̴a̸t̵'̵s̶ ̴a̸l̶r̶i̷g̸h̶t̷.̵ ̸M̵o̴t̶h̶e̴r̸ ̸u̵n̸d̴e̸r̴s̶t̶a̶n̷d̴s̴.̷ ̸M̶o̷t̶h̷e̸r̴ ̶f̶o̸r̷g̵i̸v̶e̵s̸.̴
The apartment crumbled into black dust. The years kept peeling back, faster and faster now, memories flashing by too quick to hold. A market. A cellar. Rain on metal rooftops.
Each one stained and consumed before I could do more than glimpse it.
The grief became a physical weight, pressing down on my chest until I couldn't breathe. I was losing everything that mattered and I couldn't even remember what it was.
A cave.
A desert.
A man with tired eyes speaking words I couldn't hear anymore. His face blurred as black lines split across it, erasing the expression before I could hold onto it.
Loss surged, vast and hollow.
The scene collapsed and rebuilt itself.
Smaller now. Simpler. Colder.
A cellar.
Dim light. Stone walls. A small body sitting alone on the floor, knees pulled to its chest, face hidden.
Me.
No—someone else.
The black branches erupted everywhere at once, wrapping around the cellar, crawling up the walls, sinking into the outline of that tiny figure. The sensation of loss spiked so violently it stole what was left of my breath.
This mattered.
This was everything.
This was the beginning.
The presence pressed down hard, triumphant, digging into the core of me with relentless precision. I felt something tear loose deep inside, and a scream clawed its way out of my throat as my mind began to fracture.
I am Ezra.
I am Alex.
I am—
I am—
The pressure reached its peak.
Then the thing inside me screamed.
Not with sound. With shock and fury and pain, a tearing shriek that vibrated through every layer of the broken world. The presence recoiled violently, its grip faltering for the first time since this nightmare began.
And then—
Light flooded my senses.
Bright as a sun going supernova, tearing through the darkness like it had a personal vendetta. It burned through the black lines, through the cellar, through the presence itself.
But it didn't hurt.
It was warm.
Warm like belonging. Like the memory of a home I'd never reach but somehow knew in my bones.
The light poured outward from somewhere deep inside me, filling the hollow space where my chest should have been. The black sludge on my body recoiled, boiling away into nothing. The sawing pressure vanished, replaced by a sudden, furious withdrawal.
The presence shrieked again, this time in raw outrage, and tore itself free, ripping backward into the dark as the light chased it away.
The memories dissolved into white.
The ache loosened its grip.
The sense of loss stalled, suspended, incomplete.
I drifted, weightless and numb, wrapped in that warmth.
And then everything went dark.
___
___
My eyes opened to metal.
The panels were brushed durasteel with rivets running along the seams, a generic design common to budget cargo haulers from Coruscant to Tatooine. I stared at the metal, trying to remember what a 'ceiling' was and why I was currently underneath one.
A deep, unshakable chill had settled in my bones. This coldness came from the inside out, a lingering echo of a bad dream that had already begun to dissolve into the shadows of my mind.
Something damp and cool rested on my forehead. A cloth, probably. I could feel its texture, but my brain struggled to process the sensation. The classic amnesiac's trifecta bubbled up: Who am I? Where am I? And what the hell happened?
I looked down, or tried to, and saw a metallic shape. It was a cluster of articulated limbs and a polished chassis, currently perched on my torso like a mechanical gargoyle. It had multiple optical sensors that flickered with a soft, blue light. It looked familiar, yet the name for it remained locked behind a door I couldn't find.
"What... are you?" I croaked. My voice sounded like a shovel scraping over gravel.
The droid tilted its head. Suddenly, a sharp, localized sting of electricity arched from one of its manipulator arms directly into my pectoral muscle.
"Gah!"
The jolt forced a breath into my lungs, and my brain flared with a momentary, agonizing clarity. The "monster" on my chest let out a series of triumphant, rapid-fire chirps—Pi-pi-pi-ping!—and began to scuttle in a circle on my torso, its little metal feet clicking against my ribs.
Right. Arachnae. My droid. My... cute, slightly sadistic spider droid. She raised a manipulator arm again, blue sparks dancing at the tip as she prepared for a second "reminder."
"Stop that!" I managed to hiss, my hand moving weakly to ward her off.
"She is only trying to ensure you remain among the living," a voice said from the side.
A face appeared above me, blocking my view of the uninspired ceiling. He was middle-aged and weathered. Deep-set exhaustion had settled into his bones, visible in the heavy slump of his shoulders. Lines were carved around his eyes and mouth, though his beard remained neatly trimmed, a small point of order in the surrounding chaos.
"Ezra," the man said, his voice calm but firm. "Can you hear me?"
The name bounced around in my skull. Ezra. The confusion lasted for a few seconds before my brain finally finished its boot sequence and slammed back into reality.
"Obi-Wan," I whispered.
The memories came rushing back in a chaotic data dump. Herana, the Tusken raid, the desperate attempt at healing that burned through my reserves until there was nothing left but an empty void.
I jerked upright, moving way too fast. "Herana—where's—is she—"
The world promptly tilted sideways. My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and gravity was a vindictive bastard trying to yank it to the floor. But the dizziness was nothing compared to the white-hot agony that flared in my chest. My ribs, shattered during the duel with Hett, ground together with a sickening crunch.
I let out a strangled gasp, the air catching in my throat as my lungs refused to expand against the broken bone. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
Strong hands caught me, steadying my swaying frame before I could face-plant onto the durasteel deck.
"Easy," Obi-Wan said, his voice tight with strain. "Easy! You have at least four broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging that the bacta hasn't even begun to touch. Do you want to puncture a lung?"
I slumped into his grip, my forehead resting against his shoulder as I fought to keep from vomiting. Arachnae let out a series of sharp, alarmed chirps—Piing! Piing!—and I felt one of her small manipulator arms press against my bicep, a mechanical attempt to push me back down.
"Herana—the Twi'lek," I wheezed, my words clipped by the effort of breathing. "Is she... okay?"
"The Twi'lek girl is fine. She is resting with the others," Obi-Wan said. He guided me back down to the cot with a firmness that allowed no argument. "It is your own condition that remains the primary concern."
My brain was still too sluggish to parse the gravity in his voice. "How long?"
"Six hours," Obi-Wan answered. He kept one hand on my shoulder. "You have been unconscious for six hours. What in the blazes happened to you back there?"
I let the question hang, my attention drifting as I took a proper look around the room. Small, cramped cabin. This was a low-rent cargo hauler, smelling of stale recycled air and cheap grease.
"Where are we?"
"On the transport you arranged," Obi-Wan said, his tone carefully neutral. "Your... friend arrived with the ship. Along with several others."
My brain snagged on the word "friend." Nari.
"He got here?"
"Yes, he did." Obi-Wan's expression was a mix of mild annoyance and something deeper. "It would have been helpful if you had mentioned that the friend you called for extraction was also a Jedi."
A weak, pained grin pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Might've... forgot to mention that part."
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "You forgot."
"Yeah. Slipped my mind." I paused as another thought connected. "Does he know—"
"That I am also a Jedi? Yes." His tone was dry. "The disturbance in the Force from our little duel was far too strong to hide. He does not know my identity—I kept the mask on—but he knows what I am."
I nodded slowly, the movement sending a dull throb through my skull. Nari and Obi-Wan, two Jedi in one place, neither knowing the other's identity.
"And Hett?" I asked, my voice quieter now. I looked at him with a glimmer of doubt. "He really died?"
Obi-Wan's expression darkened. "Dead."
I stared at him, my breath hitching in my chest. "You're sure?"
"He was too far gone." His voice was steady, but an undercurrent of profound regret ran through it. "I tried to reason with him. I truly did. But he had lost the ability to see the wrong in his actions. Even at the end, he chose the path of destruction."
I didn't know what to say. In the original timeline, Hett lived to become a Sith Lord. My interference had changed the equation. One less apocalypse.
Obi-Wan's focus returned to me. "Now, you are going to tell me what happened. You were injured after your bout with Hett, yes, but then you went to help the prisoners. A moment later, I felt your presence in the Force... disappear."
I blinked, my mind reeling. "Disappear? What do you mean?"
"It felt like a star winking out," Obi-Wan said, his voice dropping to a low, heavy register. "When I dealt with Hett and reached you, you were not breathing. Your heart had stopped. There was nothing left of your presence. You were gone."
Cold sweat broke out on my neck. I had felt exhausted, but I hadn't realized I'd actually crossed the threshold. "I... I died? Truly?"
Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze severe. "It was as if your Living Force was untethering itself, diffusing into the Cosmic Force. That is a natural process when a life ends, but the body usually shuts down long before you reach a state of total dissolution. You pushed past every safety mechanism your body possessed."
He gripped my shoulder. "What was so important that you would push yourself past that point? How exactly were you planning to save anyone by dying in the sand over a stranger?"
The question landed, and I had no defense. He was right. I'd played the hero, throwing my life away on a desperate gamble because it made me feel a little less guilty about Vasha.
"I... you're right," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."
There was a moment of silence, broken neither by him or me, and it felt suffocating, so I spoke.
I took a shaky breath. "The girl... Herana. The Tuskens had... they cut off her lekku."
Obi-Wan's expression softened slightly.
"She was dying," I continued. "Severe brain damage was setting in. I had promised her sister I would save her. So... I tried something. A theory I had about... Force healing. It worked. But it took more out of me than I planned."
He was quiet for a long moment, simply processing the sheer absurdity of what I'd just said.
"Every time I think I understand you, Ezra, you do something that defies all logic." His voice mixed exasperation with baffled awe. "Force healing of that magnitude is a technique Masters study for a lifetime."
I opened my mouth to respond, but something shifted inside my skull. A sudden heaviness pressed down behind my eyes, like my brain was trying to access a file that had been corrupted. Fragments swirled at the edges of my awareness—cold, darkness, something vast and hungry—but they dissolved before I could grab hold of them.
"What..." I pressed a hand to my temple. "What happened after? After I passed out?"
Obi-Wan's expression grew contemplative, troubled in a way I wasn't used to seeing on him.
"Honestly? I don't know."
That wasn't the answer I expected.
"Your mind was diffusing," he continued slowly, as if still trying to make sense of it himself. "Untethering from your body at a rate I've never witnessed in someone still technically alive. All I could do was reach out and give your consciousness a jolt. A slap, if you will, in the hopes of rousing you back to awareness."
He shook his head. "But what happened after that... I cannot say. One moment you were fading, the next your presence stabilized on its own. Whatever pulled you back, it wasn't me."
I stared at him. "So you're saying I just... fixed myself?"
"I'm saying something did." His gaze was heavy with unasked questions. "Whether it was you or something else entirely, I cannot determine. Your mind was beyond my reach when the recovery began."
The heaviness in my skull throbbed once more, insistent, like something knocking on a door I couldn't find. Cold. Darkness. A voice that wasn't a voice.
Then nothing. Just blank space where a memory should be.
"I don't remember anything," I said quietly.
"Perhaps that's for the best." Obi-Wan stood, grabbing a canteen from a hook. "Rest. Light duties until I say otherwise."
He paused at the door. "And if you ever pull something like that again, I will personally ensure your training consists of nothing but polishing rocks until one of us dies of old age."
"Crystal," I managed.
He nodded once and vanished into the hallway. Arachnae scrambled back onto the cot, nuzzling her metal head against my hand.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, eyes already growing heavy. The empty space in my memory itched like a wound I couldn't scratch. "I'm okay. Just remind me not to fix any more brains for a while."
---
A/N: Finally discharged I am, writing I have begun earnestly!
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