Coruscant: Jedi Temple-- Council Chamber-- Nick's Mind

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Nick found himself sitting amidst lit candles that barely illuminated the room, blinking in astonishment and feeling an odd sense of deju vu. *Again* his world had topsy turvyed itself on him! Somehow the glass-enclosed Council Chamber had disappeared to be instantly replaced by rather familiar looking aged stone walls.

Oh, dear God!

Nervously he felt about where he was sitting without daring to actually look down. His fingers confirmed what he already had guessed: soft, hand-made textiles.

He was in the room--- in the *very room*--- where he had first been seduced into vampirism. But that wasn't possible, surely, as the place had ceased to exists centuries ago. Or maybe it was?

What was happpening to him now? A dream? Or was he really back in that Parisian tavern of 1228? That was a distinct possibility, Nick decided--- looking down at his hands and the exposed parts of his extremeties--- as he was once again in the human body his mother and father had bestowed upon him at birth. Perhaps the people and places of that other world had been the dream? Maybe *everything* he had taken for granted as reality for the past 800 years had been a dream? He looked over to the side of the wall where distant memory dictated his family sword should lie. It was there, but what did that really tell him? He always kept his sword handy when away from home.

Hell. Had he even been fighting in the Crusades? Or had he merely gotten supremely drunk while on an errand for Lord de Labarre? Maybe he was just going insane.

Running his fingers through his long, wavy blonde hair, the confused knight contemplated this new situation and its many mind-shattering possibilites. The creaking sound of a slowly opening door startled him. He turned his head to face it in apprehensive wariness, wondering what mental paralysis was keeping him from leaping for his sword to defend himself, like he had been trained to do. Instead, he sat frozen while a dozen thoughts stampeded through his mind in the space of a few seconds.

A fellow knight? No. He was in that particular Parisian tavern on that very particular night. Nick felt suddenly very sure of that as if a light had shone on the fact to reassure him. Huh. Real reassuring that! So it had to be Janette. Unless... LaCroix? The thought made him gulp convulsively, feeling an icy tingle of dread. Or was it longing? Those first few days under the ancient vampire's protective wing while he and Janette had been virtually inseparable...

The woman who serenely strode into the room answered some of his questions just by her very presence.

Adia Gallia, daughter to Corellian diplomats and Jedi Council member. Still in her traditional Knight garb she gazed curiously about her before spearing him with her large knowing eyes. Nick was uncomfortably reminded that he was dressed only the old-fashioned chemise undergarment of his mortal time period. He self-consciously pulled his legs in to cover them with the thin fabric while pulling some of the bedding off and wrapping it around himself for good measure.

"Um... Lady Gallia"

"An interesting recollection. There were others emanating equal contradictions in passions, but this was an older one and quite strong. So... you are Nicholas." She smiled serenely at him, obviously taking him in with her gaze: definitely of human descent with dark blonde hair, a lean muscular frame, and stormy blue eyes. "No wonder you felt disoriented when you woke up with the healers--- you are as different in form from Ayar as you are from Master Yoda," she laughed lightly. Using one delicate hand gesture to indicate their medieval surroundings, she asked, "Tell me about this memory of yours that you hold in such importance." Her voice was soft, yet had the strength of steel: a command given and not a request.

Stammering a bit, Nick recited how he had been seduced by a vampiress named Janette duCharme in order to lure him to her master. This ancient vampire, Lucien LaCroix, had then promised him "a thousand lifetimes" and great power if he gave him his fealty. "At the time, I felt it was an offer I could not refuse." And quite literally as he discovered later when LaCroix had informed him of the vampire Code: It was against the rules to let a mortal learn of vampires and live with that knowledge. They had to be either hypnotized into forgetting or killed. Janette had confessed that she had been unable to fully hypnotize him in the tavern, having had to rely on her other, yet considerable, talents of persuasion. Nick's willpower--- even while drunk--- had been too strong to subvert soley with a 'whammy'. Nor would Nick have willingly chosen to die when there was an 'out' for him to take in the tempting form of a gift. Indeed, it was that very passion for life that had drawn them to him.

"He forced it upon you then?"

"No... to my shame I accepted of my own free will--- although, certainly he neglected to inform me of all the.. disadvantages.. of becoming an 'advanced being'. But, the responsibility was still mine. I, alone, am guilty of my sins."

"Then it was the promise of power that swayed you? The ability to crush your enemies?"

"No, lady. I merely desired the power to decide my own fate. You see, all my mortal life someone else had been making my life decisions for me. Whether it was the Lord de Labarre who sent me on Crusade, or Muslims who held me in chains for a year of captivity, or the local nobility who decreed on what missions I should be deployed. Do not misunderstand--- I believe in the importance of following directives. If everyone went their own way there would be naught but chaos. What rankled was that I was forever constrained to following someone else's bidding even if I did not myself wholly approve of the goal, or the manner in which it was being attained. But such was life for most folk of the time. In truth, everyone was not much better than a slave to those above them. LaCroix promised me an end to such manipulations," a deep sigh filled with centuries of pain, "however, he failed to enlighten me that he would only end *other's* manipulations. He had no compunction against doing it himself." The last was spoken with a bitter tinge.

"You sound as if you hate him." Simple words spoken without emotion, but her eyes were watching him with intense interest. Nick looked away.

"Hate him? At times, I suppose I felt that I hated him. We certainly had our times of... disagreement"

The words were barely out of his mouth before the room wavered and changed into that of his Loft in Toronto. There were flames burning unhindered and a woman's form lay crumbled in his arms as he sat on the floor. Nick recognized the scene instantly and made a point of not looking towards the lift door. He couldn't look-- the memory was too painful. Instead he moved to bury his face into the hair of the dying woman he held. It was thus he realized that it was the Jedi Councilwoman and not the archeologist of this memory that he was actually holding onto. Hissing, he let go of her and she gracefully rose to her feet looking profoundly unruffled. Which was a sight better than Nick was feeling, as he willed his extended fangs to retract back into their sockets. As then, when this Past had been the Present, the Hunger raged through him.

Adia gazed calmly at the writhing form of a tall man held pinioned to the metal lift door via a flaming stake through his torso. The impaled being was snarling angrily with bestial fangs and yellowish eyes. "It seems you hated him enough to try to kill him."

"He... he had just drained someone I was falling in love with. And then he attacked me." Blood tears fell from his eyes unchecked. "I didn't want to kill him--- I never *wanted* to hurt him. Not really. I just wanted him to stop. To stop hurting all those I cared about. To stop hurting *me*."

Without a word Adia's presence faded along with the fires in his apartment to be replaced by that of another very greyish-skinned Jedi Master.

The elongated neck of Yarael Poof swivelled to take in his new surroundings before his thoughtful expression settled on the blonde haired humanoid near his feet. "Tell me, Nicholas de Brabant, just what is a...Q-Tip?"

"Uhhh..." Nick felt the blood rush upwards to his face. Damn! They really *were* going to go through all his thoughts!" While he was racking his brain for the politest explanation, the Quermian cocked his head as if noticing something and smiled, holding up one extraordinarily long finger.

"I see. Indeed, there are basic similarities in the shape. Oh, no need to feel embarrassed, human," the Jedi Master chuckled, "I assure you I was titled with worse during my stint as a teacher to the initiates. Very creative are the young minds, don't you think?"

Losing his blush as a smirk took over his features, Nick nodded his head in agreement. He, too, had served a 'stint' as a teacher and had duly acquired a few interesting nicknames. His good mood was lost, however, at the Quermian's next words.

"Yes. Well, now we must do what we must as the others are waiting. I apologize in advance for the coming distress."

"Coming... *distress*?" Nick didn't like the sound of that at all!

"As part of this Trial to know you we must know your fears as well as your passions." Master Poof affirmed sadly. He closed his eyes in concentration, whispering, "So many you have..."

"Wait a minu--!"

And his world disintergrated into a thousand pieces...

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End of Part 9