Archive: Sure! M_A, OKEB, QJEB, anywhere else is fine.
Category: POV, Angst, A/U
Series: Yes, third in a series after "Stealing Fate" and
"Divide and Conquer"
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: m/m sex.
Spoilers: TPM and the Jedi Apprentice books.
Summary: Qui-Gon wrestles with his guilt over the events in
Stealing Fate. Does he have the strength to come through when
Obi-Wan needs him most?
Feedback: Is always welcome, on-list or off. :o)
Disclaimer: The usual suspects and the Star Wars universe
belong to George and Lucasfilm. I make not a single Republic
Datarie by writing this.
Author's Notes: A dreaded work in progress complete with Sithly
cliffhangers as usual.
The full story is available at my fanfic homepage:
http://midnightblue.cjb.net
The cover art: http://venus.spaceports.com/~midblue/tpm/tfb.jpg
// telepathy between bondmates //
"Honestly, you don't have to do this," I insisted. "Medical
supplies are scarce as it is, Malla."
"It is my job to minister to the sick and injured," she
countered. "Now, hold still. You will have a scar if this cut
isn't treated."
I had to smile at the human woman's persistence. Malla was the
first person I had met on this planet when I arrived weeks ago.
She had dedicated her life to serve the immigrant population of
Naes upon the death of her husband. He'd died seven months ago,
leaving her enough funds to relocate anywhere in the galaxy.
She had decided to stay, seeing a need for her skills. It was a
huge sacrifice on her part, especially since she was now
expecting a child. This was not a planet well suited to raising
children.
Naes was a small planet about four days travel from Coruscant.
The rich, agricultural world had historically be sparsely
populated until echidaas root had been discovered. The miracle
plant, when ground into a powder, was a strong anti-bacterial
agent. The composition of soil on Naes was discovered to be
highly conducive to growing large specimens of the plant. The
insignificant planet of Naes soon turned into highly profitable
area of the galaxy.
Soon, medical companies began to buy land off of the native
Naesians to grow the root and soon started importing immigrant
laborers to do the farming and processing of the drug. Most
worked under a contract of indenture of three years after which
time plots of land were distributed and family farms could be
created. Sadly, working conditions were so bad that few
actually survived the three years.
Although contracts of indenture were legal in the Republic,
many considered them a form of accepted slavery. Laborer
sections of cities cropped up with workers living in poverty.
The streets were filthy and crime was rampant. Immigrant
worker's rights committees were formed in the Senate, but were
soon bogged down with bureaucratic legalities. Medical supply
firms were highly influential in all aspects of political
affairs. Protecting their interests was higher priority than
the suffering of thousands of workers.
"There." Malla drew away from me, looking pleased. "Now let it
set for a few moments, Qui-Gon. I don't want to do all that
work over again." She recapped the vial of medicinal glue and
dropped it back into her first-aid kit. "You're lucky you
didn't get injured worse than you did. Who was that woman?"
"I don't know," I murmured. It was a lie. I knew Aurra Sing as
well as every other Jedi in the galaxy. She and Xanatos had
been yearmates in the Temple. Both had been at the top of their
class. They'd left the Jedi within weeks of each other. My
former apprentice had eventually gained employment with
Offworld Mining and Sing had become a bounty hunter.
Their turn to the Dark Side was considered one of the greatest
losses the Jedi had suffered in centuries. Aurra Sing's master
left the Temple forever after the fall of her most promising
student. I had gone into hiding as well, although I buried
myself in work. Like her, I couldn't face my failure.
I dreaded returning to the Temple for years afterward. No one
had ever expressed any blame towards me, but still I felt a
keen sense of failure. I loved that foolish, headstrong boy
with all of my being. He charmed and blinded me, then ripped my
heart out with a single look. I thought my heart died that day
when I looked upon his face and found it contorted in rage. I
spent the rest of my life trying to avoid feeling that kind of
pain again.
I failed.
I felt it again many years later. I watched my beautiful,
strong Obi-Wan fading away in the Temple Medi-unit, facing the
death that should have been mine.
"You don't know," she repeated, looking skeptical. "I don't
believe a word of it. Then, I learned quickly that nothing is
at it seems on this planet. You appear to be a kind, fair man.
If you truly were, you wouldn't be here hiding from the
galaxy."
I had to admire her perception. Malla wasn't Force- sensitive,
but she had keen instincts that a Jedi would be proud of. "If I
am the rogue you see me as, why do you mend my wounds?" I asked
simply.
"Because Naes needs you," she replied. "These workers need you.
The magic in your voice prevents innocents from suffering. I
could go on." She stood up and smoothed her threadbare tunic
over her bulging midsection. "Genuine compassion and
selflessness is hard to find in a place like this. I would
preserve it."
"Darkness resides in every being," I mused quietly. "There are
no creatures of true goodness in this universe." Except
Obi-Wan, I added silently. Obi- Wan was the pure spirit of
light. For trying to capture his seductive flame, I met my own
inner darkness. Now, tainted, I waited for my death. My
executioner's blade didn't cut deep enough. I would be ready
when she returned to finish the job.
She sighed as she glanced into her medi-bag. "The medicine is
running low, and the winter has only begun. It's bad, Qui-Gon,
and it's getting worse."
Winters were the hardest time in the worker's cities. The farms
were off-season, and the entire population left without income.
Medical supplies were the first items that were used up, and
food always followed shortly after. This winter was
exceptionally hard due to sickness. Dantooine Fever spread
quickly through the poverty-stricken homes. Malla found herself
stretched to the limit as she made her rounds as a healer.
"How many are infected?" I asked, sipping at the weak broth she
had brought me.
"It's getting into the hundreds now. Two children have died."
She shook her head sadly. "If only they hadn't come from the
Rim. If they'd been born in the Republic, they would have been
vaccinated."
"It is heartbreaking, but there is little else you can do," I
said gently. "You have already gone farther than most would
even consider. You have to take some time to relax."
"Qui-Gon--"
"For the sake of your child, Malla," I interrupted. "You must
slow down."
"They need me. I have to distribute the food and what's left of
the medicine," she shook her head wearily. Tears glistened in
her gray eyes.
"I will do your rounds tomorrow," I stated firmly. "Before you
protest, know that the Jedi are trained in the healing arts. I
know what I'm doing."
A small smile wavered on her lips. "So it finally comes out,"
she murmured. "You're a Jedi. I knew it."
I smiled. "I suppose it wouldn't have remained a secret
forever."
"Why are you here of all places? Is the Republic reconsidering
their stand on terms of indenture?" she asked hopefully.
"I'm afraid not. I resigned from the Jedi over a standard month
ago," I explained. "I no longer serve the Republic."
She studied me keenly. "You lost someone," she whispered.
"Someone you loved."
I had to smile once more at the sharpness of her instincts.
"Something like that. I made a mistake, and I will suffer the
price for it." I could run away from the Temple for years but
never be rid of my own regrets. I destroyed Obi-Wan. I would
carry the burden of that guilt for the rest of my days.
The death toll began to rise. The sick had been forced from
their homes for fear of infecting the rest of their families
and herded into makeshift quarantine shelters. I spent four
exhausting days traveling from shelter to shelter clutching my
meager bag of medicines. I used what was left of the anti-viral
injections sparingly. Only the sickest received the drug, and
the rest were treated with fluids, bed rest, and a touch of the
Force. There weren't nearly enough medical supplies or food to
go around.
The sickness itself seemed innocuous at first. A mild fever,
aches, and chills started the disease cycle. It was all
downhill from there as the fever spiked and the patient
descended into delirium and in the worst cases, death.
Dantooine Fever infected only humanoid races, which accounted
for about 85 percent of the imported labor. It had been all but
eradicated on the Core systems due to an extremely effective
vaccination. Malla, myself, and the handful of others who had
been born within the Republic could treat the sick without fear
of infection.
Outside of the shelters, fires burned all over the city for
cremation of the dead. Instead of mourning families, the
funeral pyres were surrounded by shivering masses trying to
warm themselves. The scenes were horrific, but the faces of the
workers held little emotion. Epidemics happened every winter on
this part of Naes. Snow fell to the ground instead of tears. It
was merely another off-season in the lives of some of the
poorest beings in the Republic.
Inside a small canvas tent, a two year old human girl drew her
last breath against my chest as I prepared to inject her with
medication. The wind whipped around the shelter from leaking
seams and ruffled her curly brown hair against my cheek. Her
weight barely registered as I picked her up and placed her in
her mother's arms. The woman seemed almost relieved as she bid
me good-bye. I emerged from the tent much later after I
composed myself. The remainder of my tears froze on my
eyelashes with the frigid wind.
I returned to my own home slowly that night. I had dispensed
the last of the medication. The food stores were dangerously
low. I was tired and aching and longing for meditation. I
didn't even take time to consider the fact that the assassin of
a week ago could be lingering in the shadows to make another
attempt at my life. At that moment, I really didn't care. If I
sought pain and suffering to act as the punishment for my
transgressions, I picked the right planet. The thought brought
a bitter smile to my lips.
I couldn't save them. I could do no more than I could stop my
Padawan from throwing himself in front of a Sith's blade to
prevent my death. It was my responsibility to protect him, and
I failed. Then in a final act of shameful cowardice, I left
him. The sky was an angry winter gray as I turned my back on
the dying city and headed home.
Malla met me at the door, her hand rubbing absently over the
growing bulge of her stomach. "Qui-Gon... it's so late, I was
getting worried."
I brushed past her and headed to the fire to warm my numb
hands. "The medicine is gone," I told her quietly. "The
managers are planning a strict quarantine of the workers,
everyone else is evacuating. The spaceport is in chaos. You
should go, Malla."
She didn't answer me. I turned to the fire and sighed.
"Someone came looking for you today," she whispered.
"Oh?" I asked. "One of the managers or someone else?"
"Someone from the Republic," she told me. "He's Jedi, Qui-Gon."
My stomach twisted in a knot of uneasiness. "That's
impossible." I turned toward her. "No one knows that I'm here."
I held down my rising anxiety. First, Aurra Sing and now this.
It couldn't be Xanatos... could it? With his training, he could
pass for a Jedi easily. I had always suspected that the two of
them ran away together.
"He's sleeping," she said, "in your quarters."
"He's *here*?" I gasped. My hand flew automatically to my belt,
but of course, there was no lightsaber there. In fact, there
were no weapons in the entire cabin. "Malla, I want you to stay
elsewhere tonight. I can't guarantee your safety with--"
"He's not dangerous, Qui-Gon," she interrupted.
"I have found that things are rarely as they seem," I insisted.
"Please, Malla."
"Listen to me," she said, laying a hand upon my arm. "He's not
dangerous. He's ill."
"Ill? He has the fever?"
"I can't be sure. I gave him a mild sedative, he's been
sleeping for hours." She led me to the door to my resting area.
"He showed up right after you went into the city this morning
looking like he hadn't slept in weeks. He stated he was on a
mission under the direct order of the Jedi Council to find
you." She reached for the light control panel and gently raised
the illumination.
What I saw curled up in my blankets nearly stopped my heart.
"Force..." I murmured, taking an unconscious step forward, then
another. I didn't stop until I was close enough to reach down
and stroke the soft reddish hair that cascaded onto my pillow
from an untied ponytail. Real. He was real! Alive... I could
feel the warmth of his body and see the slight rise and fall of
his breathing under the covers. In all these weeks, I never
dared to hope that I'd see him again.
"Qui-Gon?" Malla asked from the doorway.
I cleared my throat, unsure whether or not I'd have the
articulation to answer. "It's fine," I told her in an
emotion-roughened voice. "Malla, this is my... former
apprentice." I looked back down and smiled with relieved joy.
"This is Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi."
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