Summary: On a mission to a xenophobic planet, Qui-Gon is
injured and Obi-Wan risks his own life attempting to keep his
Master alive as they await rescue. To pass the time, Obi-Wan
recounts stories that include growing up in the Temple, meeting
Qui-Gon for the first time, and his fight to conquer feelings
of self-doubt and loneliness while being passed up again and
again in his quest to be someone's padawan. (High amounts of
h/c and angst ensue, with the usual 'Ana twists'!)
Feedback: Please! When I don't hear from anyone, I get a
complex... : ) Flames, should you feel the need to send them,
will be cheerfully forwarded to the ferret, who will hunt down
all flamers and bite their ankles. Thank you!
Disclaimers: We all know who these characters belong to (Thank
you, Mr. Lucas!), so there's no question as to who's getting
all the credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful
Jedi. (Hint: It's not me...) Disappointing as that is, I'd just
like to borrow them to tell this story...
Inspiration: Sick in bed for several days last month, I had a
craving to read/write a story with just some gentle romance and
angsty, caring, h/c stuff. This is the result.
Thank yous: This story, I'm very happy to say, was followed and
edited step-by-step by Calysta Rose. We generally used irc to
hold our brainstorming/editing sessions, but email was in
there, too. Caly did a wonderful job commenting, suggesting
word changes and ideas, and helping me to make this the best
story it could be. I've never written a story before using a
'live beta/editor' and it's been a *wonderful* experience! Look
for Caly and I to be teaming up as writer/editor again in the
future. : ) Thank you for *all* your support, Caly! You are
just the best!
Thanks also to Regs, Kaly, Mistress Elektra and Amber Biles for
giving the story a 'test drive' before its posting. Their
helpful comments and suggestions have been woven into the
story, making it just that much better. Thank you!
Note: Calysta Rose has suggested a follow-up story to this one,
to show how everything turns out and to tell things from
Qui-Gon's perspective. If all goes well, I should be starting
on that story almost immediately.
Another note: / / denotes telepathy between Obi-Wan and
Qui-Gon; / / / / denotes Obi-Wan's storytelling; italics
represents Obi-Wan's self-thoughts.
"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan brushed long hair back from his master's
damp, pale face. "Master, can you hear me?" Gently, he stroked
a finger along Qui-Gon's cheek, willing him to open his eyes.
Obi-Wan lifted the makeshift washcloth, fashioned from the belt
of his robes, from Qui-Gon's forehead. In the burning mid-day
heat, the cloth no longer held even a hint of moisture. And
Qui-Gon's face was red from the unforgiving sun.
Slowly, Obi-Wan stood up. His legs and back protested the
movement, and he was forced to spend a moment stretching his
aching muscles back into compliance. Stiffly Obi-Wan covered
the ten-meter distance to the nearly-dry river bed that had
become their savior. At the water's edge, he washed and re-wet
the soft brown material, filled the small metal cup from the
supply pack, and moved back to Qui-Gon's side as swiftly as his
abused body would allow.
Obi-Wan cooled his master's face and neck before once again
draping the cloth across the high forehead. With his hand
beneath Qui-Gon's head and neck for support, Obi-Wan gently
positioned the other man so that he could take in a bit of the
water. Holding the cup up to the unresponsive lips, he let the
water fall, drop by precious drop, into Qui-Gon's mouth.
"There, Master, isn't that better? I know you must be thirsty."
Obi-Wan could almost convince himself that Qui-Gon was drinking
and swallowing of his own accord, until he poured too much at
once and the excess ran from the corners of the Jedi master's
slack mouth. Obi-Wan shut his eyes against the all too painful
reminder of their predicament.
They had been here ten days. Ten days with only a communication
device, their lightsabers, a small utility/med pack Obi-Wan had
managed to come away with, and each other. Correction: They had
been ten days here, in this treeless, barren area, but
it had taken them three days to get this far. And it would
likely be many more before the Council could send a ship to
retrieve them.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been left on the planet to speak to the
Trellisians, a xenophobic, technologically paranoid race. In an
unprecedented move, the Trellisian co-leaders had contacted the
Council, seeking Jedi intervention as another race threatened
to overtake their lands. The Council had agreed, cautiously,
and had assigned Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to the task. Qui-Gon had
insisted they be allowed to take their lightsabers, hidden
carefully in the folds of their robes, and Yoda had insisted
they carry a communications device.
Obi-Wan used the sleeve of his tunic to gently wipe away the
spilled water. "See Master? No harm done," he said, as much to
reassure himself as to keep up the one-sided conversation he'd
begun some days ago. No harm, indeed, he thought ironically. In
reality, there had been plenty of harm done.
Upon reaching the outskirts of Trellis, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had
felt a darkness. Not the Dark Side necessarily, but some
quality that left them bristling with unease, nonetheless.
Entering the city, they had been immediately surrounded by
Trellisian troops, looked upon as dangerous intruders rather
than the peacekeepers they had been summoned as.
There had been too many for two Jedi to fight against and the
army had been brutal, to say the least. They fought with
spear-like weapons and some sort of chemical/energy spheres the
Jedi had never come across. Upon impact, the spheres broke
open, sending up yellow clouds of dust. After the first one had
shattered against the front of Qui-Gon's robes, they had taken
care to breathe the clean air while they could and to fight
while trying not to inhale the chemical.
Before they had been literally beaten and run out of town,
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had heard enough to know that Trellis's
co-leaders had not thought to tell the inhabitants of their
coming. More than likely they had thought it unwise to stir up
trouble any sooner than necessary. But the plan had worked
against them, as the angry, paranoid people had forced the
Jedi, and thus their one hope for assistance against the
neighboring threat, away.
As they covered the terrain back to their rendezvous point,
Obi-Wan silently cursed the Trellisian's paranoid culture.
Because of the technology ban, the pilot had been forced to
land their ship far outside the city itself, leaving the Jedi
with several days of walking to do.
Their injuries were not severe, but several kilometers from the
city it had been necessary for them to stop and dress their
wounds. Of their supplies, they'd only managed to come away
with one utility/med pack. Everything else they'd carried had
been lost or taken in the scuffle. And the contents of the kit
would barely be enough to last the three day trip back to their
rendezvous site.
Sitting on the hard ground, wrapping his bruised and bloody
knuckles, Obi-Wan's attention had shifted to his master.
Kneeling in the sand, calmly cleaning a cut on his forearm,
Qui-Gon was nearly gasping for breath. Their journey had been
fast-paced, but not overly so, and certainly not taxing for one
trained as a Jedi.
"Master? Are you okay?"
"...fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had tried to assure him. "Just a
bit...winded from the battle...and the walk."
"Master..."
Qui-Gon knew when his apprentice would settle for nothing less
than the truth. He smiled sadly at his padawan's persistence.
"I think it was the chemical weapons they used, Obi-Wan. I can
still feel the remnants of the dust in my lungs, and it is
making breathing a challenge."
The picture of the yellow sphere exploding against Qui-Gon's
chest flashed through Obi-Wan's mind. They had both been around
the dust, but Qui-Gon had taken the full brunt of one of the
weapons. They had to get back to the rendezvous site.
They had made it, Obi-Wan thought, but Qui-Gon had not
weathered the trip away from the city well. He had been weak
and had only grown weaker, in need of rest and more medical
care than Obi-Wan could provide. More than that, the Force-net
Obi-Wan had built around the Jedi master to keep him upright
and mobile had severely depleted his own waning energy.
As soon as they had cleared the Trellis border, Obi-Wan had
contacted the Council only to find that no transport was
available to retrieve them. Insane with the heat and concern
for his master's life, Obi-Wan had snapped. To hells with the
Force or the disciplines of being a perfect apprentice! To
hells with regulations and correctness and keeping one's place!
It hurt! He hurt. And for once he wasn't going to cover
up his feelings with Jedi pride or stoicism.
Even a ship ready for immediate departure would still be two
and a half days away and it was clear from Master Windu's words
that such a ship was not available. The situation was
frustrating beyond belief. Qui-Gon's health was failing and
Obi-Wan was powerless to prevent it.
His outburst had been witnessed, if not acknowledged, with a
furrowed brow and a bland look. After which Master Windu had
firmly assured Obi-Wan that a ship would be sent as soon as
possible to retrieve them. Bitterly, Obi-Wan decided it was an
easy thing for the master to say. He wasn't here, in this
place, standing helplessly over the body of Qui-Gon Jinn.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was dry and broken as he came
around.
Obi-Wan tucked the commlink into his tunic and moved to his
master's side. "Master?" Kneeling down, Obi-Wan tenderly cupped
Qui-Gon's cheek in the palm of his hand, watching blue eyes
slide closed at the touch. He was so vulnerable it made
Obi-Wan's heart ache. It would be best for him not to know of
the conversation that had just taken place.
"Mace?" Qui-Gon's eyes remained closed as the question was
whispered.
So he had heard. Or at the very least he had heard the voice of
his closest friend. Maybe he could still be saved from knowing
the full truth.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said, answering his master's question
simply.
"Coming... for us...?"
"Master, you need to rest," Obi-Wan told him, attempting to
avoid the inevitable. "If you move onto your side I could rub
your back for you. I know you..."
"Obi-Wan..."
Obi-Wan stopped mid-sentence.
Qui-Gon took in a painful breath. "Truth..." he wheezed.
There was no avoiding it, then. "They are sending
someone, Master." It was Obi-Wan's turn to draw in a deep
breath. "But...it may be some time. There has been an emergency
which requires all available ships to be on Coruscant."
When Qui-Gon didn't answer, Obi-Wan selfishly hoped that he had
fallen asleep.
"...sorry..." The response, when it came, was said so quietly
Obi-Wan almost missed it.
Obi-Wan blinked. "You're sorry, Master? For what?"
"...sorry...to leave...you..."
Obi-Wan's heart leapt into his throat and tears stung his eyes.
"Master! You are not going to d..."
Qui-Gon raised a weak arm. "...to leave you...alone to
deal...with me. I am afraid I...will be of no help. You will
be...alone...until they...come for us. I can feel..." A fit of
coughing overtook him, and Qui-Gon curled in on himself,
attempting to stop the painful convulsions.
"Master! Breathe!" Obi-Wan held the man as he fought
desperately against the alien chemical taking over his lungs
and body. In his grasp, Qui-Gon gasped, face gray, lips blue
from the lack of oxygen.
It had been the first of many such episodes. It was
nerve-wracking and Obi-Wan was feeling the effects sharply.
With no food, little water and no energy to meditate, he could
feel himself weakening. Black spots swam through his vision
when his eyes were open, black clouds of doubt crowded his
brain the moment his eyes were closed.
And try as he might, Obi-Wan couldn't bring Qui-Gon to
consciousness. The most he got were a few mumbled words now and
then, as his master spoke out in delirium, but nothing
intelligible.
Obi-Wan yawned and rubbed a hand over tired eyes. This marked
the fifteenth day and the burden of mere survival lay heavy on
his young shoulders. The nights here were cold and he hadn't
slept much or eaten anything since leaving Trellis. But
Qui-Gon's well-being depended on him being awake and alert. And
so he would be.
/Master?/ Obi-Wan attempted the most basic of communications.
/Master, can you hear me?/
/ ~ /
If he'd had to categorize Qui-Gon's response, Obi-Wan would
have called it white noise. It was something, but hardly
more than static where mind talk was concerned. More like an
echo of what Qui-Gon's brain heard, processed, and sent back in
Obi-Wan's direction.
In other words, there was very little hope that Qui-Gon knew
himself anymore, let alone Obi-Wan. Grief welled inside him and
Obi-Wan would have sobbed if he'd had the strength left to do
so.
Laying Qui-Gon's head in his lap, Obi-Wan made another attempt
at feeding water to the unconscious man. One drop. Two. Every
drop was a small victory. Six. Eight. Qui-Gon began to gurgle
and choke on the amount of water that would barely have
sustained a small bird.
Quickly lifting the wide shoulders higher, Obi-Wan's hand
deftly traced soothing circles over Qui-Gon's back. His heart
clenched painfully beneath his ribs as he Force-calmed his
nerves and his voice. The coughing attacks, more and more
frequent with every passing hour, were wreaking havoc on
Obi-Wan's already frayed nerves. "It's all right, Master," he
whispered into Qui-Gon's ear. "You'll be fine. Just relax and
let it go."
Qui-Gon's body shook violently, a combination of the
misdirected water and the toxin in his system, and Obi-Wan
feared he would injure himself internally if the coughing
didn't stop soon. He heard Qui-Gon's teeth rattling, saw the
trail of blood leaking from his master's mouth that meant a
bitten tongue...or worse. Settling Qui-Gon's head back against
his chest, Obi-Wan placed a hand on either side of the flushed
face, concentrating.
Centering himself, Obi-Wan focussed on the body before him. The
Force tendrils he sent out coiled smoothly around painfully
contracting lungs, pounding heart, ravaged throat muscles. The
fit of coughing lessened and eventually ceased. The tendrils,
still curled throughout Qui-Gon's abused body, continued to
smooth out the wrinkles of agony, until the Jedi master's form
lay limp and still in Obi-Wan's arms. His breathing was still
loud in his chest, but it was there.
"Hold on, Master, for just a while longer," Obi-Wan said into
the emptiness. "Master Windu will send someone for us soon."
Silently he added, I hope.
Days went by. Huddled under the cloak-blanket, Obi-Wan
shivered. Instinctively, he moved closer to his master,
tightening his hold on the unconscious man. For Obi-Wan,
reality seemed to fade a bit with each passing hour, but he
knew that, above all, Qui-Gon must be protected. To lose his
master now would be to lose himself and Obi-Wan would fight
tooth and nail against both for as long as he was physically
and mentally able.
Having Qui-Gon near him, where he could listen to the beat of
his heart and the soft sound of his breathing soothed Obi-Wan's
soul. But he was still cold. Teeth chattering, Obi-Wan tried to
think of something to take his mind off the long, empty night.
He knew sleep would not come to him; he couldn't allow himself
that escape anymore. It was for the best, he knew. Obi-Wan's
falling asleep could mean the difference between life and death
for Qui-Gon. The shudder that passed through Obi-Wan then was
not from the hollow chill of the night.
Some time later, when his commlink activated, exhaustion and
numbness prevented Obi-Wan's brain from even processing the
sound. Drifting between thoughts of the past and his constant
monitoring of Qui-Gon, it was several minutes before Obi-Wan
recognized the signal for what it was.
"Hello? Padawan Kenobi?"
Sluggishly, Obi-Wan shifted stone-cold limbs until he was able
to sit up. He fumbled clumsily for the communications device,
icy hands refusing to cooperate.
"Padawan Kenobi? Are you there? Please signal if you are
receiving this transmission."
Frustrated, Obi-Wan finally managed to get his fingers around
the link, only to have it fall from his frozen fingers and roll
away into the dark. The curses that accompanied his search for
the missing device would have made a Tusken Raider blush.
Finally, he located the link and, with two hands, managed to
press the 'receive' button.
"Ah, Padawan, thank the Force. We were beginning to worry."
Obi-Wan didn't answer, heart racing, throat too tight to speak.
Were they to be rescued at last? Silently, he waited for the
voice on the other end to continue.
"In any case," the man began again. "I am pilot T'Nai Nagursu
and we are en route to your position. We came as quickly as we
were able."
Twenty-two days is QUICK? Obi-Wan thought explosively.
Hardly. But still he held his tongue.
"We understand that you have need of a medic," the pilot said.
This time Obi-Wan did not hesitate. "Master Jinn's health is in
serious jeopardy. He needs immediate medical attention." He
swallowed convulsively, dry mouth and dryer throat refusing to
cooperate.
There was a slight pause, as if the man were consulting with
others aboard the vessel. "And you, Padawan? How is your
health?"
Obi-Wan shook his head in refusal, even though the pilot could
not see him. "My master's fate may depend on your haste. Please
concentrate on that and hurry."
His question circumvented, the knight pilot did not ask again.
"There has been an incident with a biological weapon on Cestus
III," he explained, "which has taken most of the healers away
from Coruscant. But I am bringing Masters Yoda and Windu and
I'm confident they will be able to provide for Master Jinn's
needs."
Obi-Wan felt his hard-won focus beginning to abandon him.
"Please. Hurry." he said desperately.
"Understood. ETA is fifty-eight hours. Nagursu out."
Obi-Wan collapsed back against the hard ground. Fifty-eight
hours! It might as well have been a year. But help was
on the way, and for that he had to be grateful.
/Did you hear that, Master?/ he asked into Qui-Gon's mind.
/They're coming for us. Soon we will be rescued and you will be
well again./
Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes, warming his cheeks as they slid
down his face. Moving to lay his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, he
wept in joy and relief...and, in some small part, fear of what
the next two and a half days would bring.
With morning came the ever-relentless sun, forcing Obi-Wan to
fashion the cloaks into a crude shade-fly as he did every
morning. The protection wasn't much, but what little sun block
it did provide meant less exposure to the elements for Qui-Gon.
In his condition, he could ill-afford sunstroke or further
dehydration. It was of no concern to Obi-Wan that the makeshift
tent provided shade for only one of them. It was not himself he
was worried about.
After a slow walk to the river bed to soak himself and the
clothes he wore in hopes that his day in the blazing heat would
be bearable, Obi-Wan wet the washcloth, filled the tin cup and
moved unsteadily back to Qui-Gon.
Fifty-two hours more, if all went as planned. As he cooled his
master's face and force-fed him the water, Obi-Wan's mind
wandered backward in time. Back to his first days as Qui-Gon's
padawan...back to his first mission with Qui-Gon, before
Qui-Gon was his master...back to his earliest memories in the
creche, when he was a toddler not more than three years old.
Setting the empty cup aside, Obi-Wan shifted Qui-Gon's head and
shoulders until they rested in his lap. It still allowed
Qui-Gon to remain under the shade cover, but the contact and
closeness filled a need in Obi-Wan: an urgent need to know that
he was doing all he could to keep his master alive. The
unforgiving sun beat down on the padawan, blistering and
peeling his fair skin, infusing his blonde hair with strawberry
highlights, but Obi-Wan showed no notice of it.
/Shall I tell you a story, my master?/ Obi-Wan thought as he
absently stroked the silvering, tangled strands of hair in his
lap. /You were always the one who told me stories when I was
troubled by nightmares or was too sick to sleep./
Obi-Wan had loved listening to his master's deep, calming
voice. He had sometimes been too frightened or delirious to
understand all the words, but the tone had never failed to
soothe jangled nerves and relax him into sleep or healing.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, tired beyond belief. /I will have to
tell them to you this way, Master,/ he said somewhat sadly. /I
fear I have no energy left to speak them aloud./
/ /Once upon a time there was a little boy. His
force-sensitivity was discovered by two knights out on a
diplomatic mission to the boy's homeworld. With very little
protesting on the part of the toddler's parents, he was taken
back with the knights to the Temple for training.
/ /At the Temple, the little boy could feel the Force all
around him. He was no longer isolated, as he had been on his
home planet. He no longer felt different or was looked upon as
an oddity simply because he was the only one aware of the
influence and power of the Force. But even though the little
boy knew that those at the Temple cared about him and would
care for him, he was scared.//
/Did you know that, Master?/ Obi-Wan thought as an aside to his
story. /Did you know there was a small, frightened child at the
Temple all those years ago, who focussed on your serene
expression, your calming presence, whenever he felt sad or
overwhelmed? You were always there in the beginning. Busy with
your duties, your missions, your padawan, but always there at
least in the background. And I watched you. Even though I was
only another program trainee to you, I think I knew, even then,
that we were meant to be together some day./
/ /The little boy was smaller than most of the other children
his age, gaining him a bit of favor among the masters and thus
some occasional jealousy among the trainees. At three, he had a
quick wit and a tendency to run about, expressing his
excitement and enthusiasm. His behavior and his hair, a
shocking bunch of red that never laid properly on the top,
earned him the nickname 'Rooster'.
/ /As the little boy got older, he began to hold back,
convincing himself that the other trainees would always be
bigger, better, faster, further ahead than he, although the
masters insisted otherwise. One day in the practice gym, one of
the more well-known masters stopped by to watch the six year
olds train.
/ /At the back of the crowd was the littlest trainee, just as
skilled as the rest of the children, but looking not a day over
four and scared of his shadow. As the class master gave
instructions for the initiates to pair off for sparring
practice, the visiting master made his way over to the little
boy, bowing low and then kneeling before him.
/ /'Would you consent to be my partner and give an old man a
bit of practice?' the Jedi master asked the little boy,
ruffling his now strawberry-blond hair.
/ /The boy's eyes went wide with astonishment and his heart
nearly beat out of his small chest. This master...Master
Qui-Gon Jinn...wanted to spar with him!
/ /'I...I...' the little boy sputtered. He didn't want to be
disrespectful to this master or the master teaching the class,
but his mind was telling him that this man could not possibly
want him. He was so small...so unimportant.
/ /Immediately, there were large hands on the boy's slim
shoulders.
/ /'Never think that, little one,' the master said, as
if he could read the youngster's mind. 'Judging oneself too
harshly is like judging one's opponents too liberally. Both can
lead to dangerous ends.'
/ /The initiate stood wide-eyed and mesmerized, barely able to
think.
/ /The tall master stood, rising to three times the little
boy's height. 'Now, little Tiger Eyes, let me see what you have
that has the other masters constantly talking.'
/ /The six year old's face lit up. This master thought he had
eyes like a tiger. Not funny hair or short legs or a baby face,
but tiger eyes. Now that was something to cherish. The
little boy wrapped himself in the pet name as if it were the
warmest of blankets. And the other masters were talking about
him? Him? Suddenly, the little boy knew where he wanted
to spend his life: At the side of this giant man./ /
/Do you remember that day, Master?/ Obi-Wan wondered. /I have
never forgotten it. It was the first time I felt like my life
was worth something. Not that I ever felt worthless, but for
the first time in my life I think I understood just what life
in the Temple was all about. It wasn't about competing with
others or keeping up with the crowd; it was about doing the
best I was capable of and pushing myself to be more.
/You taught that to me, Master. In just one class period, you
taught an unsure, tiger-eyed boy more about himself and his
place in the universe then he'd learned in his six years of
life. And although we barely spoke or interacted in the years
that followed, my heart and soul sang every time you smiled in
my direction or called me by your name for me. There are many
people who care for the children of Coruscant, Master, but
attachments are not encouraged much outside the padawan/master
training bonds. With you, I felt safe. Even if I hardly saw
you. It wasn't like having a father again, exactly, but it did
feel a bit like being home./ /
Mentally exhausted from his reminiscing, Obi-Wan drifted off to
sleep, mind filled with warm memories, arms wrapped
protectively around the man who had changed his life forever.
Obi-Wan jerked awake. Muzzily, he wondered what had woken him.
Woken him? Guilt came crashing down around him. He had fallen
asleep? With his master's life literally in his hands? Before
he could mentally curse himself further, he felt it again: the
sensation that had woken him.
Qui-Gon's body convulsed, limbs spasming in uncontrolled
reaction. When it was over, he lay limply in Obi-Wan's arms,
head lolling to one side. Until it happened again. And again.
/Master!/ Obi-Wan cried into his Master's mind. /Focus on my
voice. Focus on me. I know you can hear me. I know you
can fight this!/ He mentally pleaded with Qui-Gon even as he
moved from behind him and lowered him to the cool night ground.
Almost on contact, Qui-Gon's body convulsed in a spasm much
worse than the others. Unprotected, his head slammed into the
hard sand with an audible crack.
Laying his hands on Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan used what little
access he still had to the Force. To his dismay, the
convulsions continued, multiplying and gathering strength.
Terrified that he was seeing the horrible end to their
nightmarish mission just two days before their rescue, Obi-Wan
wrapped his master in his arms instead. If Qui-Gon was to die,
he would die with the Jedi Mantra of Peace echoing in his mind.
Trembling, Obi-Wan readied himself for the mantra. He steadied
his breathing, brought his focus inward, tearing his thoughts
away from the man suffering before him. Finding and capturing
his center was difficult, his control tenuous at best, but
Obi-Wan fought for it. Closing his eyes, he pictured his
master, well and whole, standing before him, looking down upon
him with eyes as clear and blue as a mountain lake.
/Force, bring peace to this man, a faithful servant of the
light. /Force, bring calm to my master in his time of need.
/Force, bring healing strength to my master in his time of
suffering.../
Surfacing from his meditation, Obi-Wan first became aware of
the oppressive heat and the prickling sensation in his
blood-starved feet and legs. Shifting his limbs with caution,
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth against the pain. Fifteen hours had
passed, if his time sense still functioned properly. For
fifteen hours Obi-Wan had knelt and chanted over his master. It
was no wonder he felt exhausted.
Qui-Gon no longer convulsed in his arms...but he lived. He had
survived. Barely. Reaching out tentatively into the Force,
Obi-Wan found himself able to access it more easily than
before. It hummed and swirled around him in energizing circles.
Perhaps it was a sign of things to come.
/Master?/ There was no response, but he sensed that Qui-Gon's
mind had conquered his body's urge to fight the rest it
urgently needed. /Shall I continue my story, Master?/ he asked.
/I think it would help take your mind off thoughts best ignored
right now./ Curling beside his master, Obi-Wan began again in
earnest.
/ /The little boy passed from early childhood to the age when
some of his peers began making the transition from initiate to
padawan learner. One by one, he watched as creche mates and
close friends were chosen from the group and assigned to
masters. And he was truly happy for those who were picked, for
it meant those trainees were moving along their life-paths
towards knighthood.
/ /Perhaps it was naivete, or perhaps, as the boy's master
described it later, it was selflessness, but the boy felt no
remorse or jealously as his friends were taken as padawans.
Such was the way of the Temple and all initiates were trained
to know and accept it. But one of the initiates, a
rough-around-the-edges boy named Bruck Chun, began to have
doubts about himself...and those doubts were transferred to the
boy, who unknowingly fell head first into the same well of
doubt.
/ /'We're never going to be picked as padawans,' Bruck
sulked day in and day out. 'Never. We're just not good enough.
We never will be.'
/ /The boy knew that Bruck was upset and being flippant, but
his words struck a cord. Why were all the others being
chosen ahead of him? Was there some weakness, some flaw in his
training that caused him to be passed over week after week,
month after month? He was nearly twelve now, and if he wasn't
chosen within the next year he'd lose his chance at being a
Jedi forever. The thought sent a panic through the boy that he
refused to acknowledge. Flirting with darkness was something he
would not allow himself to do.
/ /The boy continued to train hard. He worked up to and past
his potential as the wise Master Jinn had encouraged him to do
so many years before. But still he remained without a master.
As did Bruck./ /
On the outskirts of Trellisia, Obi-Wan drifted in and out of
consciousness. At times he could barely recall where he was or
even who he was, but he always seemed to be able to pick up the
story he was spinning and weave another chapter for the man he
was almost certain was dying in his arms. The action was
becoming ingrained within him, a way of putting his memories
into words before he was unable to share them with anyone
again.
/ /'Master Jinn is arriving at the Temple today, Obi-Wan!'
Bruck said some months later. His face was flushed with
excitement. 'He's coming to watch the initiates train!'
/ /It had been one of the many times the venerable master had
returned to the Temple between missions. He was not there
often, and the boy had a feeling that he was not happy when he
was there. Perhaps there were too many memories for him within
the walls of the Temple. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable among
the other masters, thinking they saw him only as one who had
failed and lost an apprentice to the Dark Side. Perhaps when
Master Jinn returned to the Temple he was pressured to observe
the current initiates and urged to choose one as a padawan,
even though he didn't feel ready to do so. The thought saddened
the boy. Why should the others force Master Jinn into something
he didn't wish to do? As Master Jinn's own master, Master Yoda
should have had more compassion.
/ /It was all speculation, anyway, the boy told himself. No one
knew for certain whether Master Jinn was ever really looking
for a new padawan. He did attend some of practice sessions, by
choice or with outside encouragement, but he never seemed to
have the same look about him as other masters who observed for
the purpose of actively seeking padawans.
/ /When the boy didn't respond to his earlier exclamation,
Bruck added, 'He's coming to watch *us*, Obi-Wan! They say he's
coming to choose a new padawan!' For a moment, the boy was
almost caught up in the other's passion. 'I'm going to perform
the Stone on Stone kata while he's watching. Surely he'll be
interested in an initiate who can perform such an advanced
exercise.' And without even a pause, he added, 'It's too bad
you don't know that one.'
/ /For the very first time, reality crashed down on the boy,
plunging into his stomach like a transport full of rock.
Reaching out tentatively, he could feel the other's
insincerity, just as surely as if it were written across the
other initiate's forehead. He could feel that Bruck had no real
investment in his feelings or the feelings of others...only in
his own. Bruck pretended to include him in his happiness, but
Obi-Wan knew now that his only interest was himself.
/ /His discovery of Bruck's shallow intentions gave the boy
pause. If he were only interested in showing off his skills in
front of Master Jinn, there was a possibility that he was
becoming desperate enough to veer from the path which all
initiates followed...a path of unity and group interest, rather
than self-promotion and self-interest...which would prove
dangerous indeed. Mentally, the boy took a step back from the
other initiate. Physically, he stood his ground.
/ /'And what of the rest of us, Bruck?' the boy put forth
quietly. 'Do you presume to put yourself above your brother and
sister initiates, where a choosing is concerned? Above the
Force?' A challenge, and yet not. 'You know as well as any of
us that it is not only skill and perseverance which leads a
student to a master, but the Force as well. If a pairing is
meant to be, it will be. If the Force is not strong between a
master and a padawan, if their paths are not meant to cross,
then the master and the padawan will be lead to choose
another.'
/ /The boy didn't know why he felt the need to talk to Bruck of
the choosing. All initiates, from the pre-trainees on up, were
aware of how it worked. What he didn't understand was why Bruck
seemed unaware of it...or unwilling to accept it. Even in his
most melancholy meditations, when he could not stop the
thoughts of hopelessness that filled his mind, the boy did not
know near the amount of self-doubt and desperation he felt from
Bruck. It worried him.
/ /Bruck did not take the boy's gentle reminder to heart.
Instead, he lashed out. 'What would someone as lithe and
graceful as Master Jinn want with someone like you? You
can barely perform the age-group katas and you didn't master
the most basic meditations until you were six!'
/ /The words stung the boy and he flinched before he could stop
himself. Why was Bruck saying those things?
/ /'A tall, majestic Jedi master needs a padawan who can be his
equal,' Bruck continued. 'Not someone who will sit at his feet
and look up to him for support and guidance every minute of
every day. Why do you think he calls you Tiger Eyes? Likely
because you remind him of a house cat who will follow his every
beck and call. Master Jinn will see the qualities he
admires most in a padawan in me. Who, after all, is more like
Xanatos, you or me?'/
/ /It was an odd thing to say and it sent chills down the boy's
spine. All of the senior trainees knew, at least in minor
detail, what had happened to Xanatos. Why would Bruck want to
be like him? The boy's thoughts tumbled round as he pictured
Master Jinn's last padawan. Xanatos was tall and slender, with
a slim build and a powerful, sleek sparring style. His eyes
were like fire and ice, his muscled arms like bands of steel.
And his temper like an explosive waiting for ignition. Was
that what Bruck envisioned for himself? The boy shivered
at the thought.
/ /Master Koth appeared suddenly from around the corner, asking
if everything was in order. Surprised at the master's presence,
the two boys nodded quickly and mutually dropped the subject.
Nothing came of the confrontation, which the boy believed would
have turned physical if Bruck had been allowed to continue his
tirade./ /
/You did come to the senior initiates' lightsaber drilling that
day, Master. Do you remember it? I had purposefully positioned
myself as far away from Bruck as I could, and I knew you felt
something was wrong because I saw you glancing between the two
of us all practice. I prayed that you wouldn't be able to tell
what had begun the rift between us.
/You left the practice before any of the trainees had a chance
to approach you and Bruck's hopes of impressing you were
dashed. He was unbearable after that, most especially to me.
And the more I heard his rantings and saw him become obsessed
with wanting to impress you and to become your padawan, the
more frightened I became. Not because of what it meant for
Bruck, but for what it meant for me.
/I was close to thirteen then, Master. And the more Bruck
talked about wanting you for his master the more I realized
that I wanted you for my master. I had never tried to
show off for you, had never even approached you as other
trainees had done. I had even shied away from you on several
occasions. But suddenly there was a longing growing in my
heart...a longing I finally traced back to the day I first saw
you through three-year-old eyes...and meditation after
meditation showed me that that longing was a need to have you
in my life.
/With that revealed, I did try to approach you. I tried to
convey my feelings to you. But you were as unreachable as I'd
seen you with the other trainees throughout the years. I
finally convinced myself to reject the idea that you and I were
meant to be together, but the Force seemed to have other ideas.
You were in my dreams, in my thoughts, in my meditations. And
always you and I were together. Surely it was a vision of the
future.
/Later, I was to find out that Master Yoda was having the same
sort of visions. When I was sent to the Agricorps, he arranged
for you to be there as well. And although it was a long time
before you would accept me as your padawan, I knew our separate
paths were destined to be one.../
Obi-Wan's chin jerked up from where it rested on his chest,
forcing him awake. Reaching up to stop the annoying tickle he
felt against his cheek, his fingertips met with a wetness
tracking its way from the corner of his eye. Brushing it away,
he wondered at his body's ability to manufacture tears when his
system was already so depleted of moisture.
/Oh, Master!/ he thought. /Please be well! You are a good
person and a kind master. The Force can't be so cruel as to
take one like you out of its living ranks./ But Obi-Wan knew,
as he had told Bruck so many years before, that what the Force
deemed so was so. And if it chose to take his master from
him...
The sound of a descending ship stopped Obi-Wan's despairing
thoughts. From afar he could see sand spraying in every
direction, clouds of dust churning up like a small storm as the
ship made its landing. In his arms, Qui-Gon began to gasp for
breath.
/Master!/ Qui-Gon's breathing stopped. /Master!/ Obi-Wan placed
his mouth upon his master's, providing him with the oxygen his
body cried out for. /Don't give up, Master. They're here.
They've finally come to take us home. Please, Master! Breathe!/
Peripherally, Obi-Wan could hear the pounding of feet across
the hard desert sand. Most likely the masters could sense the
urgency within him and were responding to it.
As Master Windu came over one of the dunes, brown cloak
swirling the dust wildly behind him, Qui-Gon began to cough.
/Yes, Master! That's it! Keep breathing! They're here!/
They're here, Obi-Wan thought. We made it. We
survived. Bone-deep relief made his exhaustion total and
Obi-Wan collapsed into the sand, cradling his master in his
arms.
For the first time since the chemical had taken over his body,
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, meeting his padawan's fading gaze with
great effort.
"My Obi-Wan," he mouthed, and he didn't miss the joyful look on
his padawan's pale face as they both lost the battle for
consciousness.
~ el fin ~
Feedback? Anything? (padawan_ana@yahoo.com)
Remember: Barring anything but a natural disaster, there will
be a companion piece to this story. It will directly follow the
ending here and be from Qui-Gon's viewpoint. And I'd like to
have it done within the next month or so...
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