Feedback: Welcome to come in and set a spell. Take yer shoes
off. Ya'll come back...oops, sorry.
Summary: Where heart and soul are concerned, sometimes music
speaks louder than words.
Disclaimer: Lucas is the man. The man with the plan. All
ownership and rights, without any fights. I am the one, who has
all the fun. And don't ya know, honey, that's without makin'
money.
First Note: This little diddy was actually mostly written
before the first Storyteller, but it waited till now to see the
light of day.
Next Note: The role of Qui-Gon Jinn will be played by
IrishBrogue! Qui-Gon.
Another Note: Kudos to anyone who spots the little word used by
a very famous SF author.
"Ohhhhhhh..., I wish I wu-uhz on Ta-too-ine Where nuthing grows
that's blue or gre-een. Go awaaaay..."
"Padawan."
"Or you maaay..."
"Padawan!"
"Have to paaay... Through the nose."
"Pa-da-wan! Ke-no-bi!"
Obi-Wan jumped and turned, managing to catch the life-size
plasta sculpture of Master Yoda (made when he was ten years old
and very much into goop) before it could crack a hole in the
floor.
"Master?"
"What...were you singing?"
Obi-Wan blushed. "I'm sorry, Master. I guess that was a bit
loud?"
Qui-Gon took a deep breath.
"Padawan. You are a treasure beyond price. There is no other I
would rather teach. Your intelligence and grace appear to have
no limit." His voice rose just a little. "However...for
the last six months, I seem to have been training a Muspid
Chorusbird." He began to slowly pace around Obi-Wan. "You sing
in the gardens." Pace. "You hum at mealtime." Pace. "You yodel
in the shower." Qui- Gon stopped and almost glared. "You
even 'la-la-la' in the middle of the night. He blinked. "Well?"
"Master..." Obi-Wan cleared his throat, swallowed. "It's this
music in my head." Qui-Gon looked the question. "I haven't said
anything about it because..." He sighed. "It sounds silly."
Qui-Gon smiled slightly, nodded and waited.
"Sometimes it's just a little melody. When I'm in class, when
I'm with friends, when I'm trying to sleep. Soft and hard to
hear."
He moved across to the large picture window with its
breathtaking view of Coruscant. "Sometimes it's like a
symphony, Master. Grand and glorious." He looked back at
Qui-Gon, his eyes filled with a strange intensity. "It's so
beautiful. It seems to fill my heart. I can hardly sit still."
Laughing softly, he moved to plunk down on the couch. "So. I
sing. Otherwise, I believe my life would come to a stop so I
could simply listen."
Qui-Gon laughed. "Obi-Wan. Have you not realised what this is?"
Sitting on the couch, he placed a soothing hand on Obi-Wan's
shoulder. "You are nearing twenty-two. Before much longer, you
will be a Knight. And during these last few years of growth and
maturity, all of your training will coalesce into a finely
tuned mind and body." He squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder again.
"Your esper talents are emerging. They can come when you least
expect. You're beginning to 'tune-in' to surface thoughts and
emotions of all those around you." He smiled into that still
troubled face. "Surely this was covered in your classes."
"Yes, Master, it was, but..." He looked uncomfortable. "They
didn't describe...this doesn't..." He stopped and closed his
eyes.
Qui-Gon frowned, concern coloring his coice. "Padawan, you're
shaking like a Kindus leaf." He moved closer, one arm pulling
Obi- Wan closer. "What's wrong?"
Eyes still closed, Obi-Wan shook his head several times. "This
is different, Master. It's never been like this before."
He took a deep breath, held it a moment. "I don't so much hear
it now as...it's..." He opened his eyes, raised his arms and
stared at them. "It's all under my skin." His voice was hushed.
"It's wonderful."
Qui-Gon laughed with relief. "Oh, my Obi-Wan, my Padawan of
unending surprises." He rose from the couch. "I prescribe the
Meditation of Delineation and all Katas applying to the Form of
Tranquility. I guarantee their effectiveness." He was still
chuckling as he headed for the kitchen.
Obi-Wan sank back on the couch, his frustration carefully
released to the Force. He would have to make it through this
somehow.
For the next several weeks, Obi-Wan coped. He exercised, he
kata-ed, he studied, he ran all the errands that various
Knights and Masters requested. Sometimes twice.
And during all that time, he subtlely hinted, quietly
questioned. But no one heard music, like he did. No one
felt music, like he did.
So. He coped. Or he thought he did.
For some time, few Jedi had been needed away from the Temple,
so Obi- Wan and his Master had remained close to home, catching
up on all of the 'dry' things Jedi need to know to avoid such
things as sudden death.
And then, Qui-Gon was called away. To Belus. Very. Far. Away.
Bant noticed first. She and Obi-Wan were often together,
studying, discussing, playing Knight's Gamble or Jaranda.
"Hey, Obi!" She waved a hand in front of his face. "Calling
Padawan Kenobi! Come in, please!" Laughing, she sat back as
blue-green eyes moved to her face. "Where do you go when you do
that?" Obi-Wan just looked at her, his eyes betraying his
inward focus.
"What? Bant?" He took a sharp, deep breath and puffed it out.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just...I wasn't..."
"Right, Kenobi. You just and you weren't." She smiled, her big
eyes full of sympathy. "If my Master was practically
halfway across the galaxy, I'd be wandering in space somewhere
myself." Standing up, she reached for his hand. "Come on, let's
go get a wicked snack. That'll make you feel guilty enough to
overcome the lonesomes for a while."
But that only did the trick the first time. After a few days,
nothing seemed to work. After a few days, all Obi would say
was, "Please, Bant. I'm trying to listen. Don't talk so loud."
So, she went to her Master.
And her Master, who was subbing in Obi-Wan's Advanced
Correlational Dynamics class, soon realized that something was
seriously wrong. Talking to Obi-Wan was like talking to a
Force-sensitive gabro: it, too, was present, yet not "here".
So Bant's Master went to Master Yoda.
Qui-Gon Jinn knew he was slowly going crazy. No one on this
Force- forsaken planet seemed to care whether he came or went,
whether he spoke or kept his mouth shut, whether the
damned...(sigh)...treaty was signed, sat on, or stiched up into
a tapestry. They were like hissy-clicks. Every time your hand
came down to smack, they were popped up and gone with a nasty
little buzz. Surely that accounted for the sounds in his head,
the fizz just under his skin.
He rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. Now if Obi-Wan were
here, he'd just laugh and tell his restless Master that it was
probably something unexpected, like an allergy to small,
plate-shaped green and blue bipeds that couldn't seem to focus
on much of anything. And of course, they seemed to insist on
piping music to wherever the Honored Jedi was.
Qui-Gon looked up with an impatient gesture, striding to the
open window, ready to tell whoever or whatever was listening to
that persistant recording to please take it elsewhere for a
while so he could bloody well think...
He stood there a moment, looking out, letting his perceptions
spread for some distance around. Then slowly, carefully, he
rested both hands on the sill, leaning, letting his head fall
forward, eyes closed. The music wasn't really that loud. It
wasn't at all complex. And there was no one near enough to be
responsible for it.
His smile was a little grim as he sighed, stepping back from
the window. And besides...it seemed to be entirely in his own
head.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was losing his battle for sanity.
The music... his music. Was almost gone. He could barely hear
it anymore, barely feel the gentle waves under his skin that he
knew now were necessary to move, to see, to breathe. To live.
Yoda found him sitting in a small Meditation Garden. Under a
Boknut in full bloom. Shaking, with tears running silently down
his cheeks.
Yoda sighed. "Never one like you we have had." Obi-Wan neither
saw nor heard. "No way to recognize, there was. This only in
you lives, only in the Force that binds your soul. Hear, you
do, the song of the other who sings to you." His small face was
grave. "Find you now, only that one can."
He sat in front of Obi-Wan, the small hands resting lightly on
the larger ones. "Wait we will, until your song is answered."
Across endless tracts of space, Qui-Gon Jinn was coming home.
He sat on a chair in his quarters, the ship large, cold and
almost silent around him. They left him alone. He was grateful.
His days consisted of eating what was necessary to live and
sitting. Listening. Reaching for something. He closed his eyes
and waited.
Under the Boknut, Obi-Wan was lying with his head in Yoda's
lap. The elder Master never left him, never let the
life-sustaining energy he was using to keep Obi-Wan alive
falter. Some had said he should take the boy to his quarters.
Some had said he should bring the boy to the Healers.
Yoda looked at each of them with a small smile and said only,
"Matter it does not where he is. Should the Force choose to
take him, stop it you cannot. Here he has chosen to be. Here
will the story end."
Open the door. Now. Please.
"Open. The. Door." Qui-Gon stood as tall and still as he could.
If he could just hold the trembling inside, for just a while.
The pilot glanced at his Second. They were used to transporting
Jedi, but this one...
"Yes, sir. We're almost cycled now. The ramp will be down in a
moment."
Qui-Gon blinked slowly. He did everything slowly now, it
seemed. Was time crawling or were his senses taking leave?
Down the ramp. Listen...
There. Follow.
He noticed no one, heard nothing but the music growing louder
in his head.
Turn here... Now here.
Waves of silent sound crashed through his skin, sending him
forward, his breath shallow and labored.
Oh, Force. There...
Qui-Gon Jinn stepped into the small Meditation garden as an
orchestra, a symphony, a chorus, rose through his heart and
soul. Slow tears bathed his cheeks as he stepped softy to the
Boknut tree and looked down at the young man who had called to
him across half a galaxy. He stooped over and gently picked
Obi-Wan up, barely noticing Master Yoda, still seated on the
ground, a startled and joyful look on his little green face.
Very slowly Qui-Gon pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan's. Oh,
my Padawan. My heart. My soul. My Obi-Wan.
The music faded quietly into the background of his lifeforce, a
blend now of melodies and notes he realized had been there all
along. He had heard them. Just never listened.
Holding the sleeping form in his arms, he walked peacefully
through the Temple, each step, each breath, a hymn that only
two could hear.
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