Summary: A padawan's reflections during a quiet moment with his
master.
Archive: M&A certainly. Padawan Journals, Early Years,
Wolfie's Den if wanted.
Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe belongs to Lucas and
Company, as do the JA books which have inspired this series.
I'm only borrowing.
Acknowledgments: As always, my heartfelt, complete gratitude to
Pumpkin for her wonderful beta help and encouragement. Thanks
also to my beloved Master, Jane St Clair, for her wisdom with
this fic, as well as for her support during the trials in my
life that spawned this story.
Feedback: Surgeon General's Warning-- Feeding this author has
been proven to substantially increase the risk of her writing
more fic. <g>
Author's Comments: This particular postcard was inspired by the
recent scare given to me by someone very dear who has always
been a pillar of strength in my life.
Muted light filtered through the recovery ward's small window,
sympathetically caressing the room's silent occupants. Despite
its warmth, Obi-Wan shivered. The padawan rose from his chair
beside the hospital bed to check on his master, reaching a
trembling hand under the blankets to reassure himself that
Qui-Gon was warm enough. Satisfied, he settled on the edge of
the mattress, taking hold of one of his master's still hands.
Obi-Wan was weary to the point of sheer exhaustion, but he
refused to allow anyone to take him from his master's side.
Many of the healers had tried, of course. Eventually Master
Windu had been summoned and had threatened to forcibly remove
him. Ultimately, all had recognized the padawan's utter
devotion and had allowed him to remain.
He sat quietly admist the soft beeps and clicks of the medical
monitors, watching as Qui-Gon's chest rose and fell with the
steady rhythm of his breathing. He knew his master's condition
was much improved from when he had first been transported back
to the Jedi Temple, but he still could not help but wish
Qui-Gon would wake soon. He longed for his master's eyes to
open.
He had never seen Qui-Gon like this before. In the three years
that he had been a padawan, Obi-Wan could not recall his master
ever appearing any way other than powerful. Certainly, he had
seen him in many moods, from happy and laughing, to angry, or
even sad. But during all those times, Qui-Gon had radiated
strength and vibrance of Force. To see him now like this,
vulnerable and frail, was almost too much for Obi-Wan to bear.
He knew Qui-Gon would recover. The healers had assured him that
his master only needed more time, that once the toxin was fully
purged from Qui-Gon's system, he would awaken. They had told
him that his master would need to rest, but that he would be
back out on field missions sooner than Obi-Wan might think.
Still, he could not help but worry. He had never before
considered that he could one day be without his master. Qui-Gon
had been a constant presence in his life, even before Obi-Wan
had become a true padawan. Qui-Gon was always there for him,
during success and during failure, during happiness and sorrow.
It had never occurred to Obi-Wan that this could end. He'd
never thought about life without Qui-Gon. Knighthood was so far
away that he had not even contemplated what it might be like to
be sent on solo missions, or to be away from his master
indefinitely.
He closed his eyes as the next thought came, unwanted as though
it might be. With astounding suddenness, he realized that he
had also not considered what it might be like if Qui-Gon were
to become one with the Force.
Oh, he was no child. Not some naive initiate who thought Jedi
couldn't die. It wasn't that at all. Certainly the thought had
occured to him during dangerous missions, and surely he had
been afraid for Qui-Gon and for himself during the worst of
those. But the truth was that although he had recognized that
Qui-Gon *could* die, he had not considered what that would mean
to him. What would life be like without his master at his side?
What would it be like to want to confide in him and not be able
to? Or to seek his wisdom and council, and find it gone? No, he
had not considered those things at all.
Obi-Wan choked back a sob, burying his face in the edge of his
master's pillow as he fought back the tears which threatened to
spill. Qui-Gon was going to be fine. The healers had told him
that. So why did this hurt so much?
A soft knock at the door made him scramble upright, furiously
scrubbing away any evidence of tears on his face. He relaxed
when he saw that it was only Bant, coming to pay a visit.
"Hello, Obi," she said quietly as she approached.
Obi-Wan only nodded his greeting, still not trusting himself to
speak. Bant came up behind him and after a moment, began gently
massaging his tense shoulders. He wanted to protest at first,
but it felt so good that he instead relaxed into it,
momentarily allowing himself to recognize his exhaustion.
"I know you don't want to hear me say this again, Obi-Wan," she
admonished, "but you should really get some sleep. You won't do
him any good if he wakes up and sees you like this."
He shook his head and forced himself to pull away from her
hands. "I can't," he insisted. "If... if
something...happened... and I wasn't here, I...I don't think I
could forgive myself."
Bant nodded. "I know, Obi, but you need to take care of
yourself, too."
Obi-Wan's body trembled slightly, betraying his exhaustion as
Bant stubbornly placed a reassuring hand back on his shoulder.
Bant sighed softly. "How long has it been since you've slept?"
"Doesn't matter," he mumbled reluctantly, moving almost
imperceptibly closer to his master.
Bant seemed to realize that she wouldn't get anywhere this way,
so she instead sat down in the chair alongside Qui-Gon's bed.
"Would it help if I stayed?" she asked softly.
Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment. How could he explain this
to Bant without hurting her feelings? Bant was one of his
closest friends, but right now her presence seemed like an
intrusion to him. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone
with his master. He recognized it as petty and selfish, but
having someone else in the room disturbed him greatly. It
seemed to take away from his time with Qui-Gon. Especially
if...
He refused to allow the thought to re-enter his tired mind. No,
Qui-Gon would *not* die. The healers had assured him of this.
But it still didn't make Bant's presence welcome at the moment.
"I..." he started shakily, "I'd just like...to be alone with
him right now. If you don't mind, Bant?" The last was said
imploringly. He did not wish to hurt his friend.
Bant smiled at him warmly. "Of course I don't mind." She
reached out to squeeze his hand. "But promise me you'll call me
if you need anything."
Obi-Wan nodded dully. "Promise," he replied when she seemed to
be waiting for an answer.
She hestitated for a moment, then left, only the quiet whisper
of her robe announcing the departure.
Obi-Wan moved from the bed back into the chair, pulling it
close so that he could still hold his master's large hand with
his smaller ones. He'd never felt so helpless before. Or so
alone. Even when Cerasi had died, Qui-Gon was still there. It
had been during the most difficult time of their relationship,
but he had still been able to call upon the older Jedi. Most
importantly, Qui-Gon had come. He'd dropped everything at the
Temple to come to Obi-Wan's aid, despite the rift between them.
Obi-Wan remembered the elation he'd felt when he'd seen Qui-Gon
approaching the city gates. Afterward had been awkward, of
course, but their relationship had continued to improve since
then. It had meant so much to him that Qui-Gon had come during
the darkest time of Obi-Wan's life. Had not abandoned him. Had
not left him alone.
He was alone now.
He wished he knew more about what was wrong with Qui-Gon. The
healers had told him little. The mission his master had been on
was Priority One, meaning that it would not be discussed
outside of the Council Chambers. Obi-Wan had not been part of
that mission. It had been considered too dangerous for a junior
padawan to accompany his master. Qui-Gon had gone with two
other knights and had been rushed back to the Temple after
being wounded. The weapon used had released some type of
virulent toxin into his body. He'd received triage on-site and
then had been transported as quickly as possible to the care of
the Temple Healers.
Those were all of the details Obi-Wan had been given. Not that
it mattered. Right now, all that was important to the padawan
was to see his master well again. He thought quietly of all the
things he'd like to tell his master once he was released from
the healers' care.
The soft beeps of the monitors finally lulled the boy to sleep,
Qui-Gon's hand still clasped lovingly in his own.
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