Chapter Text
Osha rests her head against the glass door of the shower. She wishes the scolding waters would burn away all her worries and troubles, that when the steam clears everything would be easier, simpler.
Right now, Osha feels like she is drowning.
Her secrets are a boulder plunging into a dark ocean, her fears of losing everything if the truth is discovered, a shackle and chain that binds them. With each passing day, the boulder sinks further and further below the waves. It takes Osha with it, dragging her into frigid waters that threaten to fill her lungs and consume her whole.
She is running out of time.
Her place in The Order has always felt like it is hanging on by a thread, but now, The Stranger has the power to snip that thread at will. Osha suspects that The Stranger is keeping her secret, only because he wants her to leave of her own accord. To join him of her own free will.
How long he will remain patient is yet to be seen.
It would be so easy for him to send a secret message to The Jedi Order, revealing her relationship with Qimir. Such a claim would need to be investigated. If any proof were found then it would be grounds for immediate expulsion from The Order, for both her and Qimir. It was the perfect ace up his sleeve, a means to have her cast from The Order whenever he chose, right into his waiting arms.
Osha refuses to let that happen.
One way or another, she will find a way to protect Qimir and herself from The Stranger's mechanisms.
Osha turns off the shower and wraps a fluffy grey towel around her body. She smiles when she spots Buttons on the countertop, blissfully relaxing in a bowl of bubbly water she had filled for the little creature to bathe in.
"Since you're comfortable, I'll leave you in there for a while longer." Osha kisses her fingertip and then touches the Shura on the head with it, earning her a content purr. "No falling asleep. You got ten more minutes."
Osha leaves the refresher, switches on her bedroom light-
"You missed Intergalactic Politics this week."
And nearly jumps out of her skin at the unexpected voice, her back hitting the refresher door.
Her eyes fall to her bed, startled to find Qimir lying there, looking perfectly relaxed for an uninvited intruder. He is dressed in his cotton sleepwear; a flowy white shirt and trousers, while his Jedi robes sit neatly folded atop her vanity table. His legs were kicked up on the bed, his back propped up against the pillows, her sketchbook held in his hands as he idly flips through it.
"I see you've made yourself at home," Osha scoffs.
She is floored by the audacity of this man. Letting himself into her room without an invitation? Already in his sleepwear as if it was a given that he would be spending the night? Osha lets her displeasure be known, crossing her arms and giving him a firm glare.
"What happened to being discreet?" Osha asks pointedly. "Because sneaking into my room past midnight, when Yord resides three doors down, is the exact opposite of discreet."
"That's why I came in through the window."
Osha blinks at his nonchalant declaration. Her eyes shift to the window, finding it left ajar when it had previously been shut and a puddle of water on the window sill. Outside, rain lightly patters against the glass, a firm wind shaking the panel. If Qimir had climbed all the way up here, it would not have been an easy feat.
"You actually came in through the window?" Osha murmurs, stunned. She gives him an incredulous look. "And you think that is more discreet than sneaking down the hallways?"
"Some people would consider it romantic, climbing in through their lover's window."
"Not when it's twenty storeys high!"
Osha shakes her head and turns away from him, making her way over to her dresser to find her sleeping attire. She won't deny she is somewhat endeared that he went to such lengths to see her, but the idea of him falling from such a height makes her want to scold him for being so reckless.
"How did you know I wasn't in class?" Osha asks, as she rummages through her drawers.
Only a few weeks ago, the thought of missing any of her classes was abhorrent. Even ill stricken she had dragged herself there, determined to keep her perfect attendance. Right now, classes, training and chores were taking a back seat, all of her free time was devoted to the archives, seeking answers on how to break the Force Bond.
The Stranger had already learned too much through it. She does not want him lurking in her mind any longer, stealing her secrets, and trying to seduce her.
If she wanted to be free of him, she needed the bond gone.
These past few days, Osha has found herself wandering closer to the secured doors that lead to the restricted section of the library. She is ashamed to admit it, but more often than not her mind has strayed to ways she could bypass that door, slip in and take what she wanted, and then leave without being detected.
She could do it.
She could get away with it too.
But then she thinks of Master Sol and the guilt lurges forward like a beast from still waters, grabbing her in its jaws and shaking her from her thoughts.
"Master Ena's skills are needed on Naboo, so I'm covering her classes for the time being," Qimir tells her. "Imagine my disappointment when I realised that my favourite pupil was playing truant."
"I've been busy," Osha shrugs.
"With?"
"Things. Now, keep your eyes closed while I get changed." For good measure, Osha tosses a spare blanket over Qimir's head. "No peeking."
"It's not like we haven't seen each other-"
"Unless you want to be thrown out the way you came in, do not finish that sentence," Osha warns, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips.
Yes, he may have seen her naked, but such intimacy was still new to her. It would take a while before she grew bold enough to be so casually vulnerable with him.
Qimir sighs, but respects her wishes. She pretends she doesn't hear him mutter, 'spoilsport' under his breath.
As Osha gets dried and ready, she notices Buttons wobbling into the room, looking utterly relaxed. The shura struts over to the nest that she has created in the corner of the room, compiled from a small mountain of socks in various stages of having been eaten. Osha isn't quite sure where those socks came from, as many of them she doesn't recognise.
So long as it isn't my socks, Osha muses.
"Would you really kick me out into the cold and rain?" Qimir asks innocently. "After I came all this way to see you."
"Give me a good reason not to."
"I'm sure I can think of a few reasons, all of which I'm happy to demonstrate."
Osha can feel her cheeks burning at the sultry insinuation. It doesn't help that all she's wearing is a flimsy towel. It would be so easy to let the towel drop and...
Behave! Osha scolds herself.
She finishes putting on her sleepwear - a black crop top and matching shorts - and makes her way over to Qimir.
"You can look now," Osha says, tugging the blanket off his head.
She giggles at the mess that the towel has made of his hair, her fingers reaching out to fix the wayward strands sticking up at odd angles.
Qimir's mischievous smile is all the warning Osha gets. Quicker than she can react, Qimir's hands dart out and grab her by the waist, pulling her onto his lap.
"About earning my keep..." Qimir drawls, his hand reaching behind her head to pull her face towards his.
Osha smiles and leans the rest of the way, kissing him firmly. She lets herself be carried away in the feeling of his lips, the passions of his tongue and the gentleness of his wandering hands. She has missed this, being so close to him. This past week she has barely seen him, squirreling herself away in the darkest recesses of the archives, only communicating with him through Buttons's messages.
Osha slips her hands under Qimir's shirt, her fingertips trailing up his muscles, one hand splaying over his heart to savour the feel of its quickening thumps.
It is Osha who puts an end to their bliss, eager to rest as she will have to get up early the next morning.
Osha shifts from Qimir's lap and lies next to him, her back now pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on her shoulder. With a wave of her hand, Osha switches the night lights off, plunging the room into darkness.
"You certainly like to draw Master Sol," Qimir remarks, once they have settled. His voice hides none of his disdain as he adds, "Yord too, for that matter.
"I draw lots of people."
"And yet, I don't see any drawings of me."
Osha smiles at how surly he sounds. "You sound jealous."
"Maybe I am," Qimir murmurs.
"I draw you," Osha says softly. "Just not in that sketchbook." She laughs lightly, unsure if she should confess her next story. "Would you like to know a secret? The first I drew you was when you took over for Master Zara in History, back when I was a Padawan. When you asked if there was anything interesting in my notebook I was so afraid you were going to take it. I would have died of embarrassment."
"I don't know whether to be flattered that you drew me or insulted that you were so bored during my lecture that you started drawing to amuse yourself."
"I wouldn't say I was bored," Osha drawls, unable to fight back her smile. "Just... smitten. I might have had a little crush on you as a padawan." And just to make sure his ego didn't inflate too much, she adds, with extra emphasis, "A very little one."
When Qimir laughs, it is rich and vibrant, and Osha wishes she could see his face.
"Don't pretend you didn't know. I don't think there were many in that class that weren't taken by you," Osha rolls her eyes.
"Irrelevant," Qimir whispers, smiling into her locs. "All that matters is that you did."
It is the insistent nudging and chirping of Buttons, that rouses Osha from slumber. Osha grumbles as she cracks open an eye to scowl at the little creature jumping up and down on her pillow.
"I know, I know. Breakfast time," Osha mumbles.
She rolls over, disappointed to find the space beside her empty and cold. Qimir must have slipped away, wanting to use the cover of darkness to leave discreetly before everyone began to wake. Osha can't help but mourn that such a simple pleasure of waking up next to each other every morning isn't a possibility for them, that it will be a rarity that comes with too many risks to ever truly enjoy with a sound mind and heart.
Upon Qimir's pillow, Osha notices that he has left her a beautiful, intricately made parting gift. A purple origami flower. She smiles as she picks the flower up, twirling the stem between her fingers. Absentmindedly, she brings it to her lips and kisses it softly.
She wonders if Qimir gave her a kiss before he left. A brief brush of his lips against her cheek, maybe one upon her forehead, while his fingers gently brushed her locs aside.
Buttons begin chirping louder. She sternly points her trunk towards the closet where her food is kept. Clearly, she was done waiting.
Osha sighs, more amused than annoyed, and places the flower on the bedside table.
Buttons hops from the bed and scurries between Osha's feet, tooting her trunk encouragingly and making sure there is no straying from the all-important task.
"Buttons, I am moving as fast as I can! You know you're not going to starve to death, just because I'm feeding you five minutes later than normal, right?"
The concerned chirps from Buttons tell Osha that the shura strongly disagrees.
As Osha makes her way over to the closet, she steps on something cold and metal. Osha frowns, kneeling to pick up the object she had stepped on.
It was a keycard. A slim, grey, rectangular-shaped card that every member of The Jedi Order possessed, giving them access to various areas that needed to be locked off, either from the public or those of lower ranks within The Order.
"This must be Qimir's keycard," Osha realises. "He must have forgotten it."
A keycard of a Jedi Master wouldn't have the same restrictions as a Jedi Knight, especially one who was grounded like her. There probably wasn't anywhere this keycard couldn't grant her access to.
Like the restricted section of the archives... or the long-range communicator, if I can slip by those pesky assistants...
Osha knows she should get the keycard back to Qimir immediately, that she shouldn't dare think about using it. It felt sneaky and underhanded, a violation of Qimir's trust. If she were caught, he would be reprimanded for allowing such a thing to fall into her hands.
What makes her feel worse about this line of thinking is that she knows, she knows that if she only asked for his help, Qimir would give it to her freely.
But that would lead to Qimir asking questions, questions Osha isn't ready to answer.
She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on it, what Qimir would think of the bond that she shared with The Stranger, The Sith Lord who had corrupted her sister to the dark side and helped her slay three Jedi Masters.
She knows what others would think. They would see her as tainted. Looking at the bond as a sign that they were right to be wary of her, that she was no Jedi, for no one forged in the Light could be tethered to someone in the Dark, unless they too belonged to the Darkness.
Osha couldn't bear the thought of Qimir looking at her with such wariness, such horror.
It didn't help that The Stranger had made his interest in her all too clear.
She didn't think Qimir would be thrilled to find out The Dark Sider was trying to seduce her through her dreams. Nor would he be happy to know what The Stranger had learned of their relationship. It makes Osha feel nauseous with guilt, knowing that all the vulnerability Qimir had shown her had been unwillingly shared with The Stranger, that she had not been able to protect those intimacies as she should have. That she wouldn't be able to protect him or any of his secrets so long as this damned bond existed.
Osha looks at the keycard.
The right thing to do would be to give it back to Qimir, but after weeks of non-stop worrying, after scouring every corner of the archive to no avail, and being thwarted at her attempts to seek help from Master Sol, it was too tempting.
Qimir's keycard was the key to the kingdom - to her hopes and salvation - and it was ideally flipping between her fingers.
Osha waits until The Academy has settled in for the night before going to the archives. When no one is looking, she makes her way towards the doors that lead to the restricted sections. She hesitates only a moment before using Qimir's keypass to grand her entry.
The doors slide open.
And Osha sneaks inside.
Osha walks through marble corridors, down gilded staircases, heading beyond the gardens and out into the forest. Soon enough, Osha finds herself by her willow tree.
Now that she is safely away from prying eyes, she lets out a heart-wrenching sob and lowers herself to the cold ground.
Any hope Osha had held onto has blinked from existence like dying stars, leaving only darkness and despair. The restricted section of the archives had given her what she had wanted... and everything she hadn't.
There is no way to destroy a Force Bond.
The only means of suppressing it is to cut oneself off from The Force... or have one of the involved parties die. And even then, the one who survives will never feel complete. They will feel restless and haunted, tormented by an aching void in their soul, until they are reunited when they become one with The Force.
She is bound to him, now and always.
It brings bitter tears to her eyes and an aching regret to her heart.
What had she done that was so despicable, so vile, that The Force would do something like this to her? Why had it tethered her soul to a monster like him?
Such a bond could have been a beautiful thing; something that she would have wanted, would have treasured. She had craved a connection with another, and this bond was on a level she had never fathomed possible, to be connected to someone on a cosmic level that The Force itself had interwoven their souls. But this... this wasn't something wonderful and admirable. It was a chain connected to a creature of darkness, who was using it to drag her further and further into the shadows, away from The Light, away from all that she held dear.
Every word uttered through the bond, every dream tainted, every secret stolen, drained a little more colour and light from her world. Soon, all she would have was darkness. Darkness and him.
Why couldn't it have been Qimir that she shared such a bond with? Someone whom she cherished and who cherished her in return. Who filled her with warmth and love. Who was her land when she felt like she was drowning. Her light when shadows threatened to consume her?
Why did it have to be The Stranger? The one who brought darkness. Who chilled her world and leached away the sunlight.
Now Osha is left with few options, none of which are anything but dire.
If she severed her connection with The Force, she would be free of The Stranger, but she could not be a Jedi Knight.
If The Stranger is ever captured and The Force Bond is discovered, then The Order will not allow her to remain a Knight either. They couldn't have a Jedi tethered to a Sith, walking freely among them, sharing their secrets, and putting The Order and their sacred tasks at risk. She would be sent away somewhere where they could study her under a lense, learn all that they could about this traitorous bond, treating her like an oddity to be scrutinised and locked away under lock and key, too dangerous to be set free.
They might let her go if she cut herself off from The Force, suppressing the bond, but there was no guarantee of that. The Order had shown time and time again that they didn't trust her, so why would they trust her never to use The Force again?
No. No, if they found out about the bond it was over for her.
And it seemed no matter what she did... her dreams of becoming a Jedi Master were already over. There was no path she could think of that wouldn't result in her destiny as a Jedi being ripped from her fingers.
And it was all because of this bond... this stupid, wretched bond-
Around Osha, fireflies leap from their hiding places, darting off behind the leaves and into the forest for cover. The branches of the willow trees sway violently, leaves lose their grip and are snatched by the growing wind. The trunk of the willow tree creaks and groans as cracks and fractures form in the bark.
She had worked so damned hard to get where she was!
She had done everything that The Order had asked of her and then more!
Had given up so much.
Had been willing to give up so much more.
And now because of this bond... because of The Stranger who plagues her... she was going to lose everything...
How was that fair? How was that right?
The idea comes to her then, sudden and sharp. A solution she shouldn't ponder, but that came all the same.
The dead don't share secrets.
If The Stranger were to perish in battle, he would take her secrets with him to the grave. She may be haunted by his absence through the bond, but she would still be a Jedi. No one would know of her relationship with Qimir, they would both be safe. Never would she have to worry about unwittingly sharing The Jedi Order's secrets. No more would she have him whispering in her ear, trying to lure her to The Dark Side.
But are such thoughts not of the dark? Osha wonders, her heart aching that this is what she has been reduced to. That such wicked thoughts had been conjured by her mind.
This wasn't her.
She should be thinking of ways to bring The Stranger to justice for what he had done. That could only be achieved by bringing him before The Council and then a court of law.
Murdering him to protect herself was not The Jedi way...
With a prolonged groan, the willow tree's trunk begins to split, the fractures having grown too large. With a deafening boom, the tree falls to the ground, ripped in two. A halo of moonlight falls upon Osha, basking her in a silver glow.
Osha's attention snaps to the tree, a gasp escaping her. Breathing hard, her hands shaking, Osha rises to her feet, staring at the ruins she has brought upon her sanctuary.
The tree that had sheltered her through her storms, that reminded her of the bunta tree on Brendock, that had been a place she felt safe and guarded, where she had first made love to Qimir, was destroyed.
Destroyed because of her.
The softest of prodding touches her mind. It was so faint that she shouldn't have been able to feel it, but she is such a raw nerve of emotion, it feels more like a digging of nails into her scalp. The Stranger had sensed her distress in the bond and had reached out, both curious and... concerned?
No. She refuses to accept that he gives a damn about her. He just wanted her ruined. One less Jedi to worry about. One more broken soul to add to his collection.
Go away and leave me the hell alone! Osha screams.
She wraps herself in the whirlpool of emotions, the same energy that had slithered from her skin and destroyed her cherished willow tree. She uses it like a shield, fortifying her mind from outsiders, just as Qimir had taught her.
And suddenly... The Stranger's presence is gone, shoved back into the recess of space where he came from, the door slammed shut in his face.
Just as he had done to her before...
If you can control this bond... then why can't I learn to do it as well?
Tonight, it is not Osha's dreams that are invaded.
It is The Stranger's.
Hidden in a forest of twisted trees with blackened leaves, an ancient temple slumbers. It is a pyramid-like structure made of dark stone, its entrance sealed off by two towering doors with hieroglyphs carved into them, a dull crimson light pulsing through each symbol. A path of broken cobblestones leads to the temple, half-obscured with mud and moss. At either side of the path are rows of obelisks, ensnared in vines and withered flowers.
The sky is dreich and restless; thunder booms loudly in the distance and rain has begun to speckle the ground, growing with intensity with every passing breath.
A hooded figure bursts from the treeline and staggers down the path. The brown robes they wear identify them as a Jedi, but they are tattered, dirt-stained and covered in dry blood. The person collapses to their knees, halfway towards the temple. She cannot see their face, hidden by the shadow of their hood, but she can hear them fighting to contain their sobs.
Do you realise the damage you have caused with your reckless actions? A voice demands, louder than the wind and rain. The person who speaks is not physically here, but their memory haunts the boy.
That voice. That's Master Vernestra, Osha realises.
"I was trying... to save them..." The boy whispers, his voice broken. He sounds young, barely a teenager, his voice still pitched with youth. "These rules-"
Are there for a reason! You are not above them!
Osha sees it then, the thoughts that torment this boy's mind.
Twi'lek dancers with bruises on their flesh and empty eyes that held no joy, forced to dress and dance for a Hutt and his minion's entrainment. She sees a group of sentient creatures - young and old, healthy and ill - their hands fastened with chains, sold off to the highest bidder on Tatooine. She sees a child, a boy with black hair, fathomless eyes, and something painfully familiar about his face, crying out for two faceless figures as he is taken away from them.
In every moment, there is a Jedi who turns a blind eye and walks away.
Osha walks towards the hooded figure, kneeling on the mud-slick ground.
You're The Stranger, aren't you? As soon as the thought forms, she knows that it is true.
He had been a Jedi once, just like her, but he had fallen and found refuge among the teachings of The Sith.
Osha is close enough now that she can stretch her arm out, ready to pull the boy's hood down-
A hand snaps around her wrist. Between one flash of lighting and the next, Osha's arm is twisted behind her back and she is yanked backwards into someone's chest. She hears the softest of breaths, filtered through a voice modulator.
"Trying to steal my secrets, Jedi?"
"What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine," Osha reminds him through gritted teeth.
"Not yet." The Stranger says softly, leaning in closer. "If you want my secrets and everything that I have to offer, you can have them, Osha. All of them. Unlike your precious Order, I wouldn't deny you anything that you desire. All you have to do... is come to me."
"Where are you?"
The Stranger clicks his tongue in disapproval.
"So you can bring the weight of The Jedi Order down upon my head? No, no, no. You aren't ready to accept me yet," The Stranger drawls chidingly. He tilts his head and hums thoughtfully. "Then again, even if I did tell you that would require you to tell them about our bond. Do you trust them, Osha? Trust them not to throw you away, like they've been desperate to since your Master first brought you to their doorstep?"
No matter how hard Osha tries, the denial refuses to leave her mouth.
"Interesting," The Stranger muses. "You can't deny it anymore, can you? The shroud is falling from your eyes."
You're falling... falling from The Jedi... falling from The Light...
"I am not falling," Osha hisses.
"What else do you call what you've been doing these past weeks? Lying to your fellow Knight. Keeping secrets from The Order and disobeying their restrictions. Sneaking around. Stealing. Taking a lover. Plotting murder. That's not very Jedi of you."
Each accusation is a slap to the face. The worst part is she can't refute a single one.
"I will admit I am impressed that you figured out how to manipulate our bond in such a fashion so soon," The Stranger says, sounding genuinely impressed. His voice dips lower, now more taunting, "Another lesson taught to you in the archive?"
The surge of anger that Osha feels is overwhelming, having been reminded yet again that she has no secrets from this creature.
With a snarl, Osha slams her foot down onto The Stranger's foot and rams her free elbow into his stomach. He grunts and loosens his grip on her arm, just enough that Osha manages to wrestle it free and ram her other elbow into his stomach too.
Osha darts a safe distance away, making sure not to turn her back on The Stranger. The two begin circling each other, bodies tensed for another shuffle.
"You loathe the control that I have over the bond," The Stranger comments. "Understandable. Rest assured that one day you'll be able to access it however you choose. I'll teach you all of its secrets."
"When you decide to?" Osha snaps.
"You can hardly blame me for keeping my secrets while you are among The Jedi."
"And yet, you help yourself to mine."
He is silent for a long moment, his head turning away from her. When he speaks his voice is softer, almost regretful. "It won't always be like this."
Osha scoffs. He was truly delusional if he ever thought she would go to him. That she would trust him enough to teach her.
"You were a Jedi once," Osha hisses. "Is this why you're so determined to lead me from this path? You failed so you want me to fail too."
"You didn't fail. Your Master and The Jedi are the ones who failed you, Osha."
Just as they failed me... just as they failed so many others, his voice whispers through The Force.
Osha glances at the Jedi boy kneeling before the dark temple, frozen in his grief. The heavy rain has darkened and soaked through his robes, and though the storm is worsening, he does not move from his spot. His body shakes from the cold and the wretched emotions tearing at his heart. His fingers dig into the slick ground, desperate for anything to hold onto, even if it is the mud and grim.
He is a pitiful sight. Despite everything, Osha wonders how he had come to be like that.
Was this the moment you gave up The Jedi path? Osha asks quietly.
A Jedi's fall is never one singular moment, but a compilation of many.
"I will not fall," Osha tells him, but there is no strength in her words now. They sound like a line rehearsed too many times to be believed. An empty prayer clutched onto by one losing faith in their god. "I am not you."
"You may be more like me than you care to admit." The Stranger waves his hand, and the vision of his younger self vanishes like a smoky mirage. "But unlike me... I will not let you be alone through it."
It is still late when Osha awakes from her dream.
She gets dressed in her darkest robes and leaves her bedroom, slipping down the corridors carefully, making sure not to be seen. She doesn't stop until she is in the communications rooms, standing before one of the long-range communicators. No one else is here, the assistants having turned in for the night.
Osha grants herself access to the device by using Qimir's keypass.
She needs to speak to Master Sol.
She needs his guidance, compassion and comfort.
There is no denying it now.
She is falling, falling, falling...
She needs his hand to help pull her back over the edge, back to The Light that he helped her find.
She sits on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, waiting... waiting... waiting...
Finally, he answers her.
"Master Sol?" Osha gasps, the relief overwhelming, relaxing every muscle in her body.
Everything will be fine now. Master Sol will help her figure this out. He will help her steer her wayward vessel back onto the right course. Help her escape the storm that threatens to drown her.
But it is not Master Sol whose voice responds.
"Oshie?"