Summary: A poor, injured Jedi Master endures an interrogation.
Feedback: Always greatly appreciated, of course.
Notes: This fluffy little ficlet is dedicated with love and
good vibes to our own favorite wounded Jedi Master. May he heal
quickly, and may his recovery be less annoying than Qui-Gon's.
Thanks to Nicole for the quick and snarky beta. :-)
"Well, Qui-Gon."
"Yes."
"This is quite a situation you've gotten yourself into." Mace
Windu looked down at him, face solemn, but lips twitching
suspiciously. Mace could control the telltale signs of
amusement if he wanted to, Qui-Gon knew. Obviously, the man
just wanted to annoy Qui-Gon as much as he could. "The Council
has been most interested."
"I live to entertain you." Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably, or
tried to. He could only move his upper torso, and he couldn't
move it very much. A boxy, low-grade healing cast encased his
hips, immobilizing him from the waist down to his thighs while
it slowly knit the bones back together. The medics had told him
that there was nothing more they could do for a broken pelvic
bone, but he didn't think he believed them. Surely Jedi doctors
could do better than this. And he was certain one of them had
snickered during his diagnosis.
"You must admit that a broken pelvis isn't something we see a
lot of in the Temple proper." The twitching around Mace's mouth
flared up again briefly. Qui-Gon wished he weren't pinned down
flat on his back, so that he could throw the other master
bodily out of his room. Then again, the only time Mace ever was
in his room was when Qui-Gon had been felled by an injury Mace
found amusing.
"No, I suppose not."
"On dangerous missions, certainly."
"I don't doubt it."
"Vehicle crashes."
"Yes." His back itched now, but he couldn't move enough to
scratch it. He wished Obi-Wan were here.
"Falls from extreme heights, perhaps."
"One would think so."
"Animal attacks, even."
"I suppose."
"What puzzles me, Qui-Gon, is that you haven't been on a
dangerous mission in, oh, it must be eight or nine years."
Since Naboo, of course. But it wasn't his fault Obi-Wan hadn't
let him accept any missions involving vehicles, falls or
attacking animals since Naboo. "And yet every few months you
suffer some bizarre injury."
"Minor flesh wounds, most of them," Qui-Gon protested.
Internally, he winced. Mace had been looking for a way to blame
Anakin for those injuries-and the concurrent damage to Temple
property-ever since the boy had come to the Temple. Qui-Gon had
had little success in convincing Mace that the latter event was
not directly related to the former. Anakin was a growing boy,
and he didn't yet know his own strength.
"In fact, you haven't left the Temple in three days. Yet your
bondmate brought you into the infirmary early this morning with
this... interesting injury."
"I applaud your thorough detective work, Councillor."
"It's become quite the intriguing conundrum in the Council
Chamber, I must say. Tell me again how it happened, would you?"
"I fell." He tried again to adjust his position on the bed, and
again failed to do anything but increase the itch on his back.
"Did you, now? Over the rug, was it?"
"Yes. I wish I had a better story with which to entertain you,
Mace, but there it is: I tripped."
"Strange how clumsy you've become over the, oh...."
"Past eight or nine years?" Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, which
felt like the only part of his body still functioning.
"Why, yes." Mace gave the small, condescending smile he had
developed ever since reaching the head of the Council. Qui-Gon
had long since learned to hate it. "I worry about you, Qui-Gon.
We all do."
He grunted and tried one more time to rub his itchy back
against the bedclothes. "That's hardly necessary."
Mace started to answer, but stopped and turned his head at the
sound of the outer door opening. Qui-Gon's mood brightened
instantly as he recognized the sense of the newcomer. His
Obi-Wan. His beloved wedded bondmate. Obi-Wan would not taunt
him-he had gotten that out of his system as they waited in the
infirmary that morning-and if he were feeling particularly
indulgent, Obi-Wan might even scratch his back for him.
Obi-Wan strode through the door, a smile of greeting on his
face, then stopped cold when he spotted Mace. The smile changed
into a look of caution, and he bowed with perfect correctness.
"Master Windu."
"Knight Kenobi, a pleasure as always." Mace nodded with equal
correctness. His relationship with Obi-Wan had once been
warmer, until Obi-Wan took on a certain rambunctious padawan
against Mace's advice. "I was just expressing the sympathies of
the Council to your bondmate on his... accident."
The pause between words was expressive, but Obi-Wan did not
even blink. "It was a sad incident. We may have to move the rug
so that it no longer impedes Master Qui-Gon's passage."
"Ah yes. Wise." Mace hid his disgruntlement well, but Qui-Gon
could detect his annoyance at having Qui-Gon's story backed up.
Qui-Gon basked in the annoyance like a warm sunbeam. Now, if
only Obi-Wan would throw Mace out of their quarters by any
means necessary short of drawing his lightsaber. Then he could
get his back scratched and have a nap.
Obi-Wan did not throw Mace out, but he did come over and kiss
Qui-Gon softly, which was almost as good. "I'm glad to see
you're feeling well enough to have visitors," he said as he
stroked Qui-Gon's hair back from his forehead.
"That's debatable," Qui-Gon replied with a dark look in Mace's
direction. "But I'm better now that you're here." He would
drive the infuriating man away by an overdose of sweet cuddly
mushiness, if nothing else worked. Out of the corner of his
eye, he could already see Mace's features pinching with sour
irritation.
Obi-Wan kissed him again, then stood up and cleared his throat
significantly. Mace met Obi-Wan's pointed glance with raised
eyebrows, then sighed and shook his head, visibly conceding the
field. Qui-Gon began to sigh with relief, but his exhalation
cut short at the sound of the outer doors opening again. He
exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan, then they both stiffened as
they recognized the agitated sense of the newcomer.
Mace did, as well. He flashed Qui-Gon one of his rare and feral
smiles, then stepped back against the wall just as Anakin
Skywalker burst into the room, a large bunch of Qui-Gon's
favorite flowers in his hands.
Qui-Gon tried to signal Anakin with his eyes, and he could feel
Obi-Wan sending increasingly dire mental warnings to his
padawan through their training link. Ani remained oblivious to
it all, as he so often did, hurrying right past Mace Windu
without so much as a glance. Someday, Qui-Gon thought with
growing dismay, someday they would manage to instill a sense of
self-preservation into the boy. But as Anakin threw himself to
his knees at Qui-Gon's bedside, he could tell it wouldn't be
today.
"Master Qui-Gon," Anakin said, looking up at him with soulful
blue eyes. His expression was so forlorn that Qui-Gon had to
physically resist the urge to pat him on the head in
reassurance. He heard a rustle, and then flowers filled his
hands. They were off-season; Anakin must have spent the
afternoon Force-growing them in the garden. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Don't apologize, Ani." Qui-Gon's gaze flicked toward Mace, who
watched with a smug expression spreading over his face.
"Really, don't."
"But I am sorry. I really didn't mean to... you know... like
that." Anakin swallowed hard and looked miserable. Qui-Gon
finally gave in to the urge to cup the boy's face in a tender
caress.
"It's all right, Ani."
Anakin looked only partially reassured. He took Qui-Gon's hand
in both of his and kissed it fervently. "I'm so incredibly,
unbelievably sorry." He leaned up and pressed another kiss to
the corner of Qui-Gon's cheek. "And I want to assure you that
last night was just a bad mistake, and isn't necessarily any
indication of... um, future performance."
"Ani-" Obi-Wan had his hand on Anakin's shoulder, his gaze
fixed across the room. Qui-Gon looked as well, then winced at
the expression of dawning amazement on Mace's features.
Anakin failed to notice any of it. He grabbed Obi-Wan's hand
and kissed it, too, then held on tightly to them both. "I'll
make it up to both of you, I promise, if you'll just give me
another chance."
"Ani!" Obi-Wan's voice was strangled, and Anakin finally looked
up at his teacher, confused. He followed Obi-Wan's gaze, then
froze when he spotted Mace. The Councillor was staring at him
with wide eyes, astonished and on the verge of hysterical
laughter. Anakin's face went deathly pale. "Ani, we were just
chatting with Master Windu about the... accident."
"Master Windu!" The words came out as a breathless squeak.
Qui-Gon squeezed the hand he still held in what he knew was a
futile attempt at reassurance. Anakin had spent most of the
last several years trying to stay out of Mace's way, for the
sake of everyone's safety.
"Padawan Skywalker." Mace stepped forward. He had regained
control of his expression, but his eyes still shone with the
look of a man vastly entertained by someone else's
embarrassment. Qui-Gon knew he was chortling inside. "Perhaps
you could describe to me what happened."
Anakin looked from Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon, but they could only look
back at him helplessly. The turmoil in his mind prevented them
from giving him any mental cues. Finally, the boy looked back
to Mace. "Speeder bike accident?" he said cautiously, then bit
his lip when Qui-Gon winced. "Tree... big animal...?" He
trailed off, then ducked his head with a sigh of resignation.
Mace stood quietly for a moment, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan
to Qui-Gon and back again. The twitching around his mouth had
returned, and it intensified until a loud snort of laughter
burst out. "Qui-Gon, you dog," he said, still laughing. "*Both*
of them?"
"Mace," Qui-Gon said weakly. He opened his mouth again, but
couldn't make anything come out. Really, Mace was reacting
better than he'd thought he would.
"Qui-Gon," Mace replied and chortled some more. "Oh, Qui-Gon,
you do know how to pick them." He swiped his sleeve across his
eyes; when he lowered his arm, he was again the granite-faced
Jedi Master of legend. "If you will excuse me, I have a Council
meeting I don't wish to miss." With a dignified swirl of robes,
he was gone before any of them could summon a response.
"Well," Obi-Wan said after a long silence. "That could have
gone better."
Anakin groaned and slumped forward, burying his face in the
bedclothes by Qui-Gon's side.
"It could have gone worse," Qui-Gon said and stroked Anakin's
hair soothingly.
"How?" Anakin groaned again, head still pressed against
Qui-Gon's side just above the cast. "How could that possibly
have been worse?"
"He could have asked to join in," Obi-Wan suggested, dead-pan.
Anakin lifted his head and grinned up at his master with
something that might have been a giggle if Anakin weren't a
very serious and dignified Jedi student. Qui-Gon smiled, too,
with the enjoyment that only came with having the two he loved
most close beside him. Cast or no cast.
Yes, it could have been worse. He looked up at his young,
amazingly virile bondmate, then down at that bondmate's even
younger, and very enthusiastic, padawan. And now the Council
knew all about it. A broken pelvis seemed a small price to pay.
"Qui-Gon?" Anakin was looking up at him through lowered lashes,
a gleam in his eyes Qui-Gon was learning to recognize-and
anticipate. His hand tightened around Anakin's fingers. "I
meant what I said before. About making it up to you. When
you're better, of course."
That sultry voice might have provoked a response from what
parts of his body he could still feel, but another, less
pleasant sensation distracted him. That damnable, nearly
violent itch, right in the middle of his back. He wiggled his
shoulders as much as he could, then turned his sweetest smile
on both of his companions. "Would you like to start right now?"
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