Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/~mystique
Archive: yes
Category: Drama (No slashiness yet)
Rating: G
Summary: Bant and Obi-Wan go on a ghost hunt.
Notes: This is the first part of a longer story, which I
started last year and have just got back into writing. It's
still a WIP but this prologue (which takes place several years
before the main story) more or less stands on its own.
Thanks to Smitty for the beta. Thank you to whoever gave me
the bunny, it's so long ago I've forgotten where it came
from.
"Shh!" Bant hissed dramatically. She pushed Obi-Wan further
into the darkness behind the low bushes.
"There's no one there, Bant." Obi-Wan kept his voice low. He
rolled his eyes, knowing he was invisible in the shadows.
"Remind me again, just why are we doing this?"
"Oh hush..." Bant turned to glare at him, reflected light
glinting briefly in liquid silver eyes. "Nearly there."
Obi-Wan bobbed his head up from the shrubbery and glanced
around. Low orange light from the regularly spaced lanterns
showed an empty pathway. This part of the Temple would
generally be quiet this late at night but there was always a
chance someone would pass by on their way to the meditation
glades. The furthest gardens were, by tradition, reserved for
the Knights and Masters.
"Clear," Bant whispered. "Lets go."
Obi-Wan nodded, then realised with irritation that Bant still
couldn't see him. She was already moving though, heading
swiftly down the path and towards their goal. Sighing, he
scrambled to his feet and followed. He caught up just as Bant
reached a door set deeply in the wall. It wasn't locked and she
swung the door open. Obi-Wan gave a final glance behind them,
to make sure they weren't being observed, then followed his
friend into the cool, dark interior.
Light filtering through the high windows lent the deserted
salle a eerie blue gleam, stripes of light and dark falling
across the wooden floor. In daylight hours the hall would a
hubbub of activity, groups of people exercising and practising
their forms. Now, apart from several training remotes in a
metal rack, the room was empty. The occasional drip of water
echoed hollowly from one of the nearby shower rooms. The sound
irritated Obi-Wan, setting his teeth on edge. Bant stopped in
one of the slanting beams of light.
"Spooky, huh?" she said in a low voice.
"Yes, Bant, " Obi-Wan replied with heavy and infinite
patience. "It's just the sort of place a ghost would hang
out."
Bant turned to him and grinned, flapping one of her fin-like
hands in dismissal.
"Oh you're such a know-it-all, Obi-Wan Kenobi! Don't you dare
give me that lecture on myths and folklore again! This is
supposed to be the place he haunts. Where he, you know... Did
it." She drew a hand slowly across her throat and whispered
dramatically. "Cut off his own head!"
"That's a compactor full of garbage, Bant! Name one single
person who has ever seen this so-called Ghostly Padawan!" He
shook his head at the foolishness of the young.
"Besides," he added. "Why is he called the Padawan's Ghost,
when he was supposedly an initiate when he killed himself? On
his thirteenth birthday, too. He never did get to be a
Padawan"
Bant giggled, her big eyes darting around at the shadowy
corners. She dropped her voice conspiratorially.
"Well, you see, he has this braid. And each year it grows
longer and longer. It's so long now that it trails behind him.
Swish. Swish. Swish across the floor." Bant danced off through
the slanting beams of light. She swayed gently as she moved, a
hand gesture mimicking the long fall of hair brushing over the
boards. "They say... they say he waits until he is claimed by
his one true Master. The Master he was meant to have. But that
Master joined the Force long ago, so he will be waiting...
forever. Swish. Swish. Swishhh."
Obi-Wan stared at her, momentarily frozen. A cold shiver
trickled down his spine before he caught himself.
"Look, there's nothing here."
"It's not midnight yet." Bant turned to him. "That's when he
died."
"Perhaps we ought to check the showers and anterooms first,
then. Just in case." Obi-Wan was determined to show some
leadership here. He didn't regret taking Bant up on her dare.
He was, if he admitted it to himself, quite enjoying the
after-hours adventure but he was reluctant to give Bant the
satisfaction seeing him caught up in the whole ghost hunt. He
felt a touch of superiority at seeing a Bant look a little
apprehensive at his suggestion.
"Of course, if you're scared," his voice trailed off.
Bant glared. "Lead on then, Kenobi"
The darkened closets and antechambers were empty of anything
that had no business being there. As they approached the
showers the insistent dripping got louder. Bant let Obi-Wan
take the lead, pressing close behind him.
"We should turn that tap off." Obi-Wan hoped his whisper
sounded more confident than he felt.
"Perhaps we should turn a light on..." Bant pressed even
closer.
"Its just the dark." Still, Obi-Wan hesitated at the shower
room door. "We're not initiates any more, Bant. We're Jedi
padawans. We're trained to move and fight without using our
eyes, just using the Force."
There was a pause, then, in a tiny voice, Bant asked, "Do you
think you can sense ghosts with the Force?"
"I don't know..." Obi-Wan momentarily forgot that he wasn't
supposed to believe in ghosts.
He wasn't scared, he told himself. He was merely alert for
danger. Of course, he was in the Jedi Temple, the safest place
in the whole galaxy, but it never hurt to be on guard, did it?
All he had to do was remain calm and not let fear master him.
Reaching out with the Force to determine that the room beyond
appeared empty, he pushed open the door.
"Go on." Bant made no move to press forward.
Squaring his shoulders, Obi-Wan advanced into the room. It was
even darker here, but he could feel his way using the Force.
The high plink of the falling drops came from somewhere up
ahead. He stopped.
"Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!" He essayed a low laugh and it echoed
satisfyingly through the tiled room. Bant's hand tightened on
his arm.
"Obi!" she warned. "Shhhh!"
They listened. Obi-Wan held his breath. There was nothing but
the incessant dripping. Finally, Bant's hand relaxed.
"Wooooohooooh" Bant's ghostly wail sounded high and hollow in
the echoing chamber and Obi-Wan snorted with laughter. Bant
started giggling. They experimented for several minutes, trying
to produce the scariest sounds. The acoustics in the shower
room were perfect. Obi-Wan was trying his deepest Huttese laugh
while Bant howled like a Wookiee.
"I'll get that drip and then we can get out of here," Obi-Wan
said finally, and he headed down the room towards the elusive
sound. He turned towards the last shower stall and his blood
turned to ice. There was a boy there, a pale figure in Jedi
tunics.
Instantly his lightsaber was up and lit. Bant was less than a
second behind him, her saber ready to guard his back. There was
a shocked silence, broken only by the low hum of the blades. A
drop of water fell, the lonely sound echoing through the
room.
He was going to laugh, really he was, just as soon as he
caught his breath and his knees stopped shaking. Behind him
Bant was already lowering her saber.
"Nice one, Kenobi," she said, her grinning face glowing in the
pink light from her weapon. "You really had me going for a
moment."
Obi-Wan lowered his lightsaber sheepishly and the boy in the
mirror did the same.
"You were scared! Admit it!" Bant was almost crowing. She
doused her blade.
"No, I wasn't!" Obi-Wan said, indignantly. "I was alert! Being
cautious! I have to watch out for you, you know!"
"Oh, yeah? You're nearly as white as your robes. No wonder you
thought your own reflection was a ghost!"
Obi-Wan shook his head, knowing it was going to take him a
while to live this down. He reached over to the dripping shower
head impatiently and turned it off.
"You were scared yourself, Bant. Just because I can't tell by
looking at you!"
"Was not!"
"You were, too!" Obi-Wan powered down his saber and clipped it
on his belt. It was suddenly very dark, although the glow from
his saber still seemed burned into his retina. He
grinned.
"Woohoo!" he cried. "Here comes the Ghostly Padawan!"
Flapping his sleeves like a mad thing, he advanced down the
shower room. Bant fled before him shrieking with glee, her
voice echoing through the empty stalls, before she slipped
through the door and escaped. Obi-Wan chased her down the
corridor and through the empty rooms, laughing and spinning as
he waved his arms, gesturing menacingly. Finally Bant dodged
back into the main hall, Obi-Wan hot on her heels. He ran
straight into the back of her, and instinctively grabbed her as
she stiffened in his arms.
There in the salle, light pooled on the top of his head, and
around his feet, stood a tall dark figure. This time it was no
reflection. Obi-Wan felt his heart leap into his mouth. With a
low thud the lights were Force-activated and whined into
brightness. Bant sagged against him gratefully, but Obi-Wan
swallowed hard, his relief mixed with growing apprehension.
There, in the centre of the room, stood his Master, Qui-Gon
Jinn. He did not look amused.
"What is the meaning of this, Padawans?" The echoing hall
reverberated with Master Jinn's displeasure. "I am dragged from
my meditation by my Padawan's alarm, and come straight here,
only to find you two running around and screeching like
initiates."
"M-master." Obi-Wan bowed low, and Bant, glancing at her
partner in crime, quickly followed suit. "We were, um..."
"You have not been a Padawan for very long, have you Bant?
Does your master know you are here?"
"No, Master Jinn." Bant shook her head.
"So, why do I find you two alone in this training hall? Surely
you are a little too old for midnight pranks and a little too
young for assignations?"
Bant bowed her head again. "I apologise, sir. It was all my
idea. I dared Obi... I mean, Padawan Kenobi to accompany me in
search of the ghost."
"A ghost, Padawan?" Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows.
"Yes sir." Bant nodded. "There's a story that says that this
salle is haunted by the ghost of a padawan who killed himself.
We were curious."
"Is this true, Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded glumly, well aware of how
juvenile it all sounded.
"I see." Qui-Gon shook his head exasperation. "I have not
heard of any Jedi padawan committing suicide in this temple,
nor have I heard of any ghost in this hall. You have been led
astray by your imaginations.
"Padawan Bant. Obi-Wan and I will accompany you to your
quarters where you will make an explanation to your own master.
I do not expect you will escape punishment for this little
escapade."
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon paused and Obi-Wan drew a deep breath to
steady himself. He would face his Master calmly, like a Jedi,
and take his punishment accordingly.
"You and I will speak of this later."
Qui-Gon was thankfully silent on the way back to their
quarters. Obi-Wan struggled to keep up with his long legged
stride.
"Master, may I ask? Is there such a thing as a Force
Ghost?"
"I believe so, Padawan, although few have ever seen them. They
are usually Jedi who have been allowed to remain in this
existence by the Force, to complete some unfinished
task."
Qui-Gon slowed and looked down at Obi-Wan. HIs mouth quirked,
but he didn't exactly smile. "I will not be distracted from
your punishment, young Padawan."
Of course not, Obi-Wan thought. He shook his head. "No,
Master."
They had reached their rooms, and Qui-Gon palmed the door lock
before ushering Obi-Wan in ahead of him, and gesturing to the
sofa. He sat down, and when Obi-Wan seemed reluctant, he patted
the seat beside him.
"Sit, Padawan."
Here it comes, thought Obi-Wan, the lecture.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began, not unkindly. "I'm a little
disappointed in you. I expected you to be studying tonight, and
then going straight to bed. What possessed you to go hunting
around the far hall for ghosts?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "I was trying to tell Bant that it wasn't
true, but she's taken up by the notion. She thinks its such a
terribly tragic and romantic story."
"What story, Padawan?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "There are
many legends that have sprung up around the Temple, but I don't
believe I've heard this one."
Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and stood, hands clasped in
front of him, in formal storytelling posture.
"The story goes like this. There once was an initiate, who,
nearing his thirteenth birthday, was desperate to be taken as a
Padawan. He believed that he was destined to be a Jedi Knight,
but as the deadline approached, he fell into despair. No master
seemed willing to train him. Finally, on the eve of his
birthday, he went alone into the furthest training salle, which
as you know, is almost always deserted at night, and he
waited.
"Now, there was one old master, a man who had been alone for
far too long, and was uncertain as to whether or not he should
take one last Padawan. He finally decided that he should train
the young man. He set out to approach him, but could not find
him anywhere. He did not think to look in the darkened hall.
Meanwhile, the initiate was still waiting. When at last he
heard the midnight chimes, he wept, and taking out his own
lightsaber, he killed himself.
"The Master finally found the headless body the next morning,
and he too wept. He realised that he had left it too late to
approach the initiate, and that his reluctance had cost the
order not one, but two Jedi. That night he left the Temple,
never to return.
"They say that the initiate's ghost now haunts the far salle,
and at midnight he appears, seeking his master, who will never
come for him."
Obi-Wan finished the story with the ritual bow, and
straightened to find his Master staring at him aghast.
He, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was an idiot, Obi-Wan thought to himself.
He'd gone and done it now.
Qui-Gon seem to collect himself, and his expression hardened
as he looked at Obi-Wan.
"Do you blame the master then, Obi-Wan?" he said grimly. "Was
the child such a loss to the Order? The boy was hasty and let
his fears rule him. Surely, a boy who would commit such a
desperate act would not have made a suitable Jedi
Knight?"
Obi-Wan stared at his master in horror. That was cold, coming
from the normally compassionate Qui-Gon. He dropped to his
knees in front of the seated man.
"Master, forgive me. It's just a story. Its... well, I know
why this myth has started and why it's considered so tragic and
romantic."
"You do?" Qui-Gon looked surprisingly alarmed.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded earnestly. "It taps into the
fears of many initiates. Its a terrible feeling, Master, and a
common fear. The feeling that you have been training for
something all your life, only to lose the chance. Its the fear
of failure."
"Not all initiates are destined to be knights, Obi-Wan, or
even padawans." Qui-Gon said quietly.
"No, Master. But that is not so easy to accept when you are
twelve years old, and want it desperately. The initiate was
wrong to do as he did, Master, and yet you still have to feel
for him."
"And the master?" Qui-gon's eyes were flat hard pebbles.
Obi-Wan shifted awkwardly. "It's not my place to say,
Master."
His Master seemed to be taking this rather hard, Obi-Wan
thought. He floundered, uncertain. He hoped that Qui-Gon didn't
imagine that he held any grudges, or blamed him for the misery
he went through before Qui-gon had finally accepted him as his
padawan.
"But he did try to do the right thing. It wasn't his fault
alone that the tragedy occurred. He was just a little too late,
that's all. I would hope... I'd hope that the master wouldn't
blame himself too much. Maybe the initiate would find it in his
heart to forgive him."
"Not even masters are immune to the fear of failure, Obi-Wan."
Qui-gon sighed. He sounded so sad. Obi-Wan felt his heart go
out to the older man. He reached out and, tentatively, placed
one of his small hands on his master's knee.
"Master." Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure where to start.
"Master... the story of that poor initiate. It's really made me
think.
"When I was sent to Bandomeer, and finally accepted I was
going to be a farmer, I... Well, I don't think I ever wanted to
kill myself, Master, but in some ways, I no longer cared if I
lived or died. Part of that acceptance was just numbness. My
faith in my own destiny was shattered."
It was harder than he had thought, talking about Bandomeer,
but he had to say it. His emotions were bursting from their
buried hiding places, gathering in his chest in one choking
mass. Obi-Wan was horrified to feel the pricking of hot tears
welling up in his eyes, and he swallowed hard, holding them
back by sheer will.
"But you chose me, in the end, and restored my shattered
faith. I can't begin to express how grateful I am. I'm where I
want to be. Where I've always known I should be."
Obi-Wan's voice quivered and he took a deep breath to steady
himself. Qui-Gon was simply staring at him, stricken. Obi-Wan's
head was hot and aching. He bent his forehead to the cool
fabric covering Qui-Gon's knee.
"Master," he said, forcing the words out. "Thank you so much
for taking me as your Padawan, and for being there for me on
Bandomeer, and while I recovered. You saved me. You believed in
me. And I will always do my best to live up to your faith and
your trust in me."
There was a heart-beat's pause and Obi-Wan felt the flutter of
the pulse in his temple. Once. Twice. Then, with a soft rustle
of fabric, two large hands came down to brush gently over the
short bristles of his head before coming down to rest on top of
his own small hands.
"Oh, my padawan. I would never doubt it now." Qui-Gon
murmured.
Obi-Wan raised his head to smile tremulously into his master's
over-bright eyes.
"Bed now, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon was suddenly brisk, fully the Jedi
Master again. "And this time, stay there."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan rose smoothly and headed towards his
own room. As he closed the door behind him he suddenly realised
something. He had managed to distract his master from his
punishment after all.
He smiled. Here he was, 14 years old, a Jedi Padawan, with the
best master in the whole order. Life was wonderful.
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