Under The Cover Of Darkness

Chapter Seven

The room did not erupt into chaos, emotional or otherwise. They were the members of the Jedi Councilor, and even in their confusion and horror, the room was deafeningly silent. In an Order that so prized restraint, the instinct for all Masters was to slam their shields down in time of turmoil. But while none of the Councilors spoke, a distant part of Obi-Wan's mind noted several hands gripping the hilts of their lightsabers.

The rest of his mind was too busy grasping, panicking, denying, faltering, for how his body could have spoken—confessed—without him doing anything.

"Feel free to explain that statement," Mace said.

And apparently, Obi-Wan's body was going to comply, judging by the fact that he had once again begun talking. "Gladly." Obi-Wan could feel the corners of his mouth pulling into a faint smile.

"I am not Councilor Kenobi. I confess, I expected I'd have longer before you noticed the security breaches. But, having been caught, I thought I'd bow out gracefully. Save you the time and conflict, and Councilor Kenobi the...difficulty of listening to you believe him guilty."

So whatever entity had taken control of his body was considerate. How lovely.

Plo Koon spoke next, his words coming out slowly and carefully. "You are suggesting that you are not Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I had thought my statement was rather less equivocal than that, but yes."

"But you also suggest," Plo continued, "that Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to listen to us. An implication I find interesting, given the circumstances."

"Well, he is," Obi-Wan's voice said, his eyebrows raising in what felt like his typical wry expression. "This is his body, after all."

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was...not panicking. He was not panicking, because he was a Master of the Jedi Council, and that meant he did not panic.

For all he had been subject to, both in the course of the war and in the course of his life, he had never had to experience the unique uncanniness of standing there in front of his friends and colleagues while trapped in his own body. While someone else took him over and he, unable to move, was forced to listen to his own body confess to breaking into the Temple holding cells and helping Darksiders and suspected Sith.

"Impossible," Master Mundi said. "You will not gain better treatment by deceiving us into thinking that we will also be harming Obi-Wan."

"There are records of possession through the Force, you know. Very, very old ones, but there are records of certain Sith artifacts able to control the minds of Jedi in various ways," Adi Galli offered. "It might be true."

"A record of what happened to those possessed, is there?" Yoda asked, expression thoughtful.

"I know you will likely not believe me," whatever was using Obi-Wan's body cut in, "but I am in no way affiliated with the Sith. Not as a creation of them, not as one of them, and not as their ally."

"You're right," Ki-Adi Mundi scoffed. "That is hard to believe."

"Considering what we caught you doing," Mace added, his frown deepening, "he's not wrong. While we have in fact been debating the technicalities of and evidence for whether our prisoners count as Sith, they are Fallen. And you have been helping them."

Obi-Wan felt his body shrug, as if that accusation was something to be nonchalant about. Obi-Wan himself burned with more fury and helpless despair than was befitting his station. He wanted to attack the intruder psychically, to attempt to shove whatever it was out of his mind, but he didn't want to risk stopping the interrogation or showing his hand too soon and putting the intruder on guard.