Rating: PG again and mainly for angst... sorry, I'm just a
tease ;)
Series: Doesn't have a name, but this one goes before "Healing"
- I'm writing them backwards. They both stand alone, though.
Spoilers: Another massive TPM spoiler.
Summary: A short look at a missing scene.
Archive: Yes to SWAL, master_apprentice and anyone else - just
drop me a note telling me.
Feedback: PLEASE!! Feedback makes the world go 'round and
certainly makes me write more. Hey, it might even make me get
around to actually writing a stronger rating...
All hail the great god Lucas, who owns all! Me, I'm just
exercising an overactive imagination for personal
gratification.
The sound of the council room door closing was more felt than
heard, a barrier that crashed down behind them and closed them
off from the judging eyes of the Jedi Masters, removing them
from the center of observation. Obi-Wan expelled a breath in a
tight puff, drawing it back in through teeth clenched so hard
his jaw ached. The point between his shoulder blades still
crawled, the force of the Masters' eyes upon his retreating
back making his skin tingle and raising the fine hairs across
the nape of his neck.
Qui-Gon reached down to rest a comforting hand on the shoulder
of the boy who walked at his side. "Run ahead, Anakin. We are
to meet the Queen at the landing platform. Do you remember the
way?"
Anakin glanced up at them both, eyes wide and dark in his small
face. He nodded, once, a jerk of his sandy haired head, and
when Qui-Gon released him he darted away down the corridor.
Leaving them alone and truly without onlookers.
Silence stretched, growing deeper and thicker with every
passing breath. Obi-Wan fixed his gaze upon a point two inches
above his Master's left shoulder, fixed it and held it even as
he held his position and the uncommunicative expression upon
his face. Willed himself into the outward semblance of calm
even as his emotions raged within him, locking it down, locking
it away where only he would hear the shrieking of his own
wounded heart.
But even that dignity was denied him, and he knew it when
Qui-Gon turned darkened eyes upon him, the older man's
expression drawn and suddenly weary. "I meant no hurt to you,
Obi-Wan."
Stung, Obi-Wan tightened another degree, his spine popping with
painful protest from the rigidity. "Of course not," he grated,
the words issuing reluctantly from his clenched jaw. No amount
of control could take the searing sarcasm from their tone. "It
is the greatest compliment, for a student to hear the teacher
say he is ready."
A flush stained Qui-Gon's cheeks, his lips pressing thin as his
eyes slid away. "You should not have heard it in that manner,"
he conceded, regret coloring his deep voice. "But I meant what
I said. You..."
"Meant it?" Obi-Wan hissed, his voice dropping until it filled
only the space between them, sharp as a bladed knife, breaking
across Qui-Gon's words with a flagrant disregard for respect.
"Of course you did! How convenient for you! If I am ready,
Master, then you are free. Take another apprentice, if you
wish. Do whatever you want. You need no longer be burdened with
the teaching of me."
He had gone too far, far beyond too far, but he could not bring
himself to care. Even the hurt that flared in Qui-Gon's eyes
could not silence the words that leapt from him, barbed pieces
of his own pain thrown into his Master's face. The Jedi Master
flinched from it, his own mouth tightening as his frustration
rose.
"You overstep yourself," Qui-Gon warned softly, steel lining
his quiet words. Sighing, he shook his head slightly. "You
think as the Council does. Why can you not see it? The boy must
be taught."
"The boy is dangerous," Obi-Wan spat, bristling anew at the
mention of the source of his own pain. "Why can you not
see that?"
"That is jealousy speaking," Qui-Gon replied sharply, chiding.
"Is this, then, how you prove you are ready?"
"And if I am not? Would it change your decision?" Obi-Wan
challenged. He did not wait for a reply. "I think not. The boy
crowds all else from your mind."
"Do not presume to speak for my mind when you do not know your
own," Qui-Gon said sternly. His expression softened some as he
regarded his apprentice. "I do not forget you, Obi-Wan," he
continued quietly. Reaching out, he cupped the tense cheek in
one palm. "Calm yourself, my Padawan. This will pass..."
Obi-Wan jerked his head away, breaking the connection.
"Everything passes," he grated. What slim control he retained
was deteriorating fast, frayed and slipping from his tenuous
grasp. Qui-Gon's comforting touch, as unthinking between them
as breathing had once been, had pushed him from fury to the
brink of tears. He clutched at the anger, using it as the
crutch to hold back the greater sin of dissolving before his
Master's eyes. Even breath was difficult now, each one drawn in
a shaky spasm that trembled in his chest. "Everything."
Pain robbed the angry strength from his words but they hissed
forth all the same, stark and flat. Of its own his hand reached
out, pressed light against the broad width of Qui-Gon's chest,
fingers splayed across the strong throb of the man's heart. He
held it there for a brief moment, counting three of the pulses
before dropping his hand. His eyes met Qui-Gon's, a morass of
angry pain swirling in their depths. "Even this."
Qui-Gon made no move to stop him when he turned aside, did not
call out or beckon him as he strode away. With each step away
from his Master's presence Obi-Wan marshaled his strength,
feeding it from the flames of outraged anger, hurt and stinging
pride, fury and jealous indignation. Anything to quiet the pain
each step brought, the loss that ached through him and pierced
his heart. Everything might indeed pass... but he would not let
it go lightly, nor without a fight.
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