Forget Me Not

23

My eyes drifted open, and I thought for a moment that it was my brother entering the room, hands behind his back. But then the door hissed closed behind him, the clunk of its lock echoing through the small room. The man walked leisurely circles around my chair in the middle, his face half-hidden by the shadows that fled from the single light above me. The metal benches around me, built into the walls that had not changed in over a week, lay like a sleeping dragon that curled around the square cell. They had not been awakened all of this day, but I knew that those glowing eyes would be sliding open soon. Mace Windu had returned.

This time he was alone, and I shuddered. Quinlan had a way of tempering Mace's desire for answers, displaying more openly the compassionate side that I was sure every person had – somewhere, anyway.

"You know why I'm here, Riner," he began coolly. "Are you ready to cooperate tonight?"

I gritted my teeth. "I don't have the answer you want."

"It's a change to hear your voice from time to time," he responded in a tone mimicking praise. "But you aren't saying what I want to hear. Speak!"

"I did speak," I sighed. "You don't listen."

"If you had spoken, I would have listened."

"No, you wouldn't have. Trust me."

"And that," he countered, "is the problem. I don't. I could never trust a Sith."

I exhaled slowly, steeling myself for what came next. But it never came.

The door hissed open again, milliseconds before Mace's finger met the button. His head whipped around to see the intruder, his tense shoulders indicating that Quinlan was too busy to be coming now. It was someone else, then.

The confused frown, tussled ginger hair, and kind but impatient blue eyes of none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi peered into the room. He stopped in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the area, one hand gripping the thick doorpost.

"Mace," he started breathlessly, mortification stealing his features as realization dawned. "Mace, what are you doing?" There was a warning to his tone, a confidence surging from tireless hours of practice. "What's happening here?"

"Kenobi," Mace began sternly, "you shouldn't be here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave, immediately."

But Obi-Wan stepped over the threshold, breaking into the dark history that the Jedi had so desperately tried to smother. His jaw was set in grim determination, and his balled fists shouted louder than his low tone ever could. "I'm only asking this one more time: what are you doing?"

"We are doing what we must," Mace started, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

"We are doing what we must?" he spat, blue eyes burning hot with righteous indignation. "Who is 'we'?"

The senior Jedi cleared his throat. "Most of the Council has been aware of this."

"Explain to me why you 'must'."

"We need important information that Riner can provide —"

"No, I can't."

"— that Riner can provide; he simply won't."

"No, I don't know the answers."

"He keeps insisting that he doesn't know —"

"Maybe he doesn't!" Obi-Wan exploded. "If he says something, why can't we just believe him? Why does everyone seem determined to believe the worst of him? What if he's actually telling the truth?"

Mace seemed affronted. "He has to be lying. He was clearly involved with the attempt on Satine's life, and therefore he will be connected with her disappearance."