Summary: An answer to the 'ghost story' challenge for
Halloween.
Disclaimer: A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, George
Lucas created Star Wars. And he looked at it and saw that it
was good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that
Obi-Wan doth look upon Qui-Gon with lust, and that Mr. Lucas
was not likely to include that in the next movie, so we said
screw it and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any
money off of this. And all was right with the world.
Author's Note: This is kind of a sequel to my story 'Story's
End' but it isn't really necessary to have read it to
understand. It's more a response to the ghost story challenge
that someone (I'm afraid I can't remember who) issued. Enjoy!
"Explain to me again why we are here, Master?" The young man
who had asked the question was sprawled on his master's bed,
watching said master explore the room. There most likely
weren't any listening devices as their host, Regent Bjern,
certainly had no need for them but there was a chance that
someone else might and it was better not to have any unpleasant
surprises.
"The Del-ra and Lud-ra clans are at odds again," Qui-Gon
answered absently. This was an old game, Obi-Wan knew the
mission as well as his master but a bit of idle chitchat helped
to distract any listeners.
"Over water rights this time, yes, I remember." Obi-Wan rolled
over and sighed loudly before adding a more truthful comment.
"I can't imagine why we were sent here for something so
trivial."
"We are here because this 'trivial matter' could escalate into
something more serious. And violent," Qui-Gon replied, gently
chiding. Satisfied that the room was clean, he walked over to
where his Padawan was stretched out and tousled the young man's
hair lightly, smiling when Obi-Wan made a face at him. "Coming
to Alastaar is at least much better than our last assignment."
"That's an understatement, Master," Obi-Wan said, shivering
faintly. He had nearly died on their last mission but they had
spent the last few weeks 'convalescing', according to Qui-Gon,
on the planet Tal-Heel and Obi-Wan was quite recovered. Still,
the memory of that mission was not a pleasant one for either of
them.
Obi-Wan shook off the memory, climbing to his feet so that he
could unpack their few belongings but Qui-Gon waved him back.
"I can handle it this once, Padawan. Why don't you look around
the manor house and see what you can sense from our
surroundings."
Obi-Wan brightened immediately, as Qui-Gon knew he would. The
young man had never been able to curb his curious nature and
Qui-Gon privately hoped that he never would. To be ordered to
do just what he wanted was a treat and Obi-Wan knew it.
"Thank you, Master!" He bowed deeply and almost flew out of the
room, seeming unable to control his delight.
Qui-Gon watched him with well-hidden amusement and a touch of
envy. "Ah, to be that young again," he murmured. But why would
he need to? It was enough just to see the world through
Obi-Wan's eyes and Qui-Gon was more than content to do just
that.
The Alastaarians may have appreciated the usefulness of
mechanics such as spaceships and medical resources but the were
disdainful of machines nonetheless and so if any such things
were in the manor house they were well hidden. That included
droids, even for cleaning and he and Qui-Gon had been
introduced to some of the servants when they had arrived. Quiet
solemn people who had nodded greetings and then gone back to
their duties.
Obi-Wan walked through the hallways, appreciating the
understated elegance here. Tapestries in muted colors decorated
the walls and his boots echoed on hardwood floors, a rare
building material even here on Alastaar. It spoke volumes about
the age of this house.
He had learned a bit about its history from the Regent's
assistant, Varil, a cheerful talkative man. He had chattered on
while escorting the two Jedi to their rooms, explaining how
generations of the Regent's family, the Bjerns, had lived here,
passing it along from parent to child. The Regent would be a
neutral representative in the coming negotiations so it had
been decided it would be best if the Jedi stayed with him. It
certainly appeared that he had plenty of room.
Going from corridor to corridor, Obi-Wan explored the manor
house, the few servants about scattering like startled doves at
his approach. His wanderings eventually took him to a hallway
that was lined with paintings. Obi-Wan studied a few of them,
portraits mostly and darkened with age. The clothing worn by
the people within were the only real indication of age as none
of the paintings had plaques or even titles.
At the very end of the hall he found one last painting,
obviously much more recent and Obi-Wan looked at it curiously.
It was a young woman in a deep blue dress and she was seated in
front of a fireplace that Obi- Wan recognized from the front
hall. Her hands were folded in her lap and she smiled demurely
and yet somehow mischievously as she looked at something beyond
the range of the painting.
Obi-Wan lingered for a moment longer in front of it. She was
beautiful that much was certain but somehow looking at this
painting gave him a feeling of uneasiness like a strange
stirring in the Force, one that he couldn't explain.
He made a mental note to tell his master about it. Doubtful as
it was that this couldn't have anything to do with their
mission, it was better not to ignore a feeling like that.
Obi-Wan had learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.
Shaking off his discomfort Obi-Wan walked on and found a set of
double doors further down. He opened them and discovered, to
his delight, that they led to the gardens. Large and airy and
the day was just cool enough to be comfortable. His earlier
uneasiness was forgotten as Obi- Wan prowled through the
gardens, exploring as he soaked up the lightness and warmth
that emanated from around him. It was faintly reminiscent of
Tal-Heel he thought with a smile.
Finally, he settled on a bench to do as he was instructed and
find out what he could through the Force. He'd dawdled long
enough and it would be better to return to his quarters on his
own rather than make Qui-Gon come find him. Centering himself,
Obi-Wan extended his senses. He felt much of what he had
expected. Outside the calm peace of the gardens there was
tension surrounding these people but nothing too extreme, not
yet. He shifted deeper, immersing himself and frowned when he
felt something else, something underneath all the surface
tension.
He pushed further, seeking, and hardly aware that that he was
doing so Obi-Wan stood and started walking, simply going where
his feet were taking him. He was approaching the edge of the
garden and just before he walked past the thick hedge that
surrounded the garden, he caught the stench of rotting
vegetation and stagnant water. A swamp, he recognized through
the haze that seemed to be surrounding him. Turning past the
hedge it came into sight, stretching as far as he could see
through the thick tangle of trees and murky water. Obi-Wan
could hear the bloodthirsty hum of insects, the only sound in
the stillness.
A sudden rush of pain/fear/darkness punched through what was
left of his mental shields and Obi-Wan fell to his knees,
gagging on the feel of bitter decay invading his mind. All his
strength seemed to flow out of him and he lost his grip on the
Force, rolling weakly to his side and staring blankly at the
overhanging trees, their thin limbs bare and skeletal. The last
thing he registered before unconsciousness overtook him was the
stink of the swamp combined with the cloying sweetness of the
garden flowers.
Someone was shaking him ungently and Obi-Wan blinked, raising a
hand to his eyes to block out the blinding mid-afternoon sun.
"Padawan, are you all right? Obi-Wan! What happened?"
Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan forced his eyes open again to look into his
master's concerned face.
"I'm...I'm fine," he managed to mumble around his strangely
thick tongue, not completely sure it was true but needing to
reassure his master.
Qui-Gon blew out his breath loudly and pressed his forehead
against Obi-Wan's, who was startled to realize he was lying
across his master's lap.
"I swear you took years off my life, Obi-Wan! All I felt from
you was a wave of panic and then nothing. I thought..." He
broke off but Obi-Wan knew far too well what he'd thought.
His near miss on Breel weighed heavily on Qui-Gon, he knew, and
while his master was dealing with his newly discovered
over-protective feelings Obi-Wan was still aware of them and he
tried again to reassure Qui-Gon.
"Really, I'm fine, Master. I just..." he trailed off as he
looked past Qui-Gon's face and saw that they were still on the
edge of the swamp. He shivered uncontrollably. "Can you feel
it?" he whispered, unconsciously moving closer to his master.
Qui-Gon frowned worriedly. Obi-Wan was ashy pale, reminding him
uncomfortably of Obi-Wan's injuries only a few weeks earlier.
He shook it off, Obi-Wan was obviously physically well it was
his mental state that felt unsteady and detached.
"I can feel the life Force here," Qui-Gon answered carefully.
"There are many lifeforms in a marshy area like this." Obi-Wan
was shook his head, cringing closer still.
"No," Obi-Wan whispered hoarsely, absurdly afraid of someone
overhearing him. "No, that's not it. This is a -bad- place." No
other words would come to him and he felt that swarm of
darkness threaten to overtake him again.
Qui-Gon shook him, hard, snapping his head backwards and
Obi-Wan wanted to protest the rough treatment but he couldn't
seem to make his mouth form words.
"Padawan, I think you're going into some kind of psychic
shock." Obi- Wan said nothing, just stared at Qui-Gon with
widely dilated eyes until the Jedi master decided that enough
was enough. He lifted his Padawan into his arms easily,
carrying him away from the swamp and back to their rooms. The
fact that Obi-Wan didn't protest this undignified mode of
travel, even weakly, spoke volumes about his condition and
Qui-Gon increased his pace. The sooner he got back to their
rooms the sooner he could check Obi-Wan's the mental state with
greater depth.
When Obi-Wan woke again he was lying on a bed and wrapped in
blankets. He jerked into a sitting position, heart pounding
although he didn't know why.
"Easy, Padawan." A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder and
he flinched. He caught himself before pulling completely away,
recognizing Qui-Gon at the last moment.
"Sorry, Master," he said somewhat sheepishly and gave Qui-Gon a
wan smile. Qui-Gon returned it with a frown.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Obi-Wan, but an explanation
would be appreciated." Then, more gently, "Padawan, what
happened?"
"I..." Obi-Wan started, then stopped. How could he explain when
he didn't understand it himself? Qui-Gon was waiting
expectantly and so he finally said, reluctantly, "I'm not sure,
Master."
Qui-Gon's frown deepened, his lips pressed into a hard, white
line but he said nothing. He really didn't know what he could
say. A part of him wanted to make sure that this never happened
again but short of never allowing Obi-Wan from his sight until
he found what had caused this breakdown that wasn't possible.
He ignored his inner voice that thought that that was a perfect
solution.
The chronometer chimed, disturbing him from his thoughts.
Qui-Gon glanced at it and frowned again.
"Obi-Wan, we're to share our evening meal tonight with the
Regent but if you aren't feeling well..."
"No, no," he interrupted and then had the grace to look
shamefaced as Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his rudeness. "No,
Master," he said more politely. "I'm fine, really. And hungry,"
he added, realizing that it was true. He had missed the noon
meal during his little episode.
"If you are sure, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon had his doubts but if
Obi-Wan said he was well enough he had to trust that.
"I am," Obi-Wan said firmly, putting the entire incident out of
his mind. What could not be changed must be endured and
besides, there was food waiting.
"It's good of you to join us," Regent Bjern said as they
entered the dining room. He stood and bowed to the Jedi
politely. The Regent was an older man, his once black hair
peppered with gray but his eyes were keen and intelligent. He
was also an exceedingly warm and compassionate man and his
genuine delight at having guests was a welcome change for the
Jedi.
Their other dining companion was Varil, the Regent's assistant
for the past few years. He had been the man to show the Jedi to
their rooms. He stood as well, bowing with the Regent.
"I agree," Varil said, "It isn't often that we have such
distinguished guests!" Teasing but with an underlying
sincerity. Both Jedi returned the bow and then they all took
their seats.
The dining room was large but not uncomfortably so, one wall
was dominated by a large fireplace that blazed with warmth and
gave the room a cozy feel and the chairs were close enough
together for conversation to be easy and it flowed between
them.
The Regent was eager to discuss the goings on within the
Republic and Qui-Gon answered his questions easily, with Varil
and Obi-Wan throwing in the odd comment.
Obi-Wan spoke only enough to be polite, his mind was focused
more on their mission, the topic that Bjern and Qui-Gon were
carefully skirting, not wanting to discuss it just yet.
There was some kind of feud going on between the Del-ra and
Lud-ra clans, one that dated back some time and they were
constantly squabbling over the most trivial things.
Unfortunately, they were also the two largest clans on Alastaar
and an all out war would be devastating. So, again, the
Republic had had to send in negotiators to smooth ruffled
feathers and calm tensions.
The Regent himself was in a neutral position, not belonging to
any one clan and all he wanted was to keep his people from
taking up arms. The debate of water rights was only one in a
long string of petty disagreements.
The conversation lulled somewhat and they all ate in a
companionable silence.
"Your home is very lovely," Obi-Wan offered when the meal was
nearly over.
"Thank you," Bjern said graciously and then ruined the effect
by smiling. "I'm sure that the next few days are going to be
very trying so I should hope that you at least enjoy your
accommodations," he added with a laugh.
"Oh, we do appreciate them very much," Obi-Wan said hurriedly
and felt a touch of approval from his master. Then he
remembered something. "Regent Bjern, if I may ask, I saw a
painting in one of the hallways earlier today. A young lady
wearing a dark blue dress. Who is she?"
A shadow of sorrow fell over the man's face, chasing away his
earlier cheer. "Ah. That would be my daughter. She was just
twenty when I had it commissioned. She...she died a few years
ago." Bjern passed a hand over his eyes and Varil touched his
arm gently. Bjern sighed. "I'm afraid that's why the clans have
been so riled up for the past years. She was...murdered." The
Regent had some difficulty with the word but he managed. "We
never found her killer and each clan blames the other. They
think that it was meant to punish me for not helping them."
She had only been a year older than Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon thought
with a strange feeling of discomfort. He was about to offer his
sympathies when Obi-Wan spoke again.
"How did she die, Your Grace?" The question was gently asked
but Qui- Gon made a mental note to scold his Padawan later for
asking such a painful question. The Regent didn't seem to
notice.
"Lilya was fond of walking through the gardens, especially at
night. She said the scent of the flowers was so much clearer."
There was a distant warmth in Bjern's eyes as he recalled his
daughter but a haunting pain quickly replaced it. "I was away
on a diplomatic mission and one night she was attacked and..."
he stumble to a halt, tears thick in his voice.
"But what about her dog?" Qui-Gon felt a wave of shock ripple
through the room at Obi-Wan's strange question. His Padawan's
voice was oddly detached as he continued. "She never went
through the gardens without him but Naro was in his kennel when
you got home. Can't you hear him howling? He scratched at the
kennel doors until his paws bled and he howled and howled and
howled..."
His voice had risen to a near shout and then suddenly Obi-Wan
fell silent. He slumped backwards in his chair and would have
slid onto the floor if Qui-Gon hadn't caught him. His eyes had
rolled up, showing whites as his body was seized by violent
tremors, convulsions that ceased as abruptly as they had begun.
His eyes rolled wildly for a second before they focused forward
and Obi-Wan blinked dazedly.
"What was I saying?" he asked, straightening in his chair. The
others stared at him in stunned silence. Confused, he looked
from face to face, searching for an answer. "What?"
Qui-Gon's mouth worked silently for a moment before he spoke,
weakly. "Padawan, I think perhaps we should return to our
rooms. You seem..."
"How did you know that?" Bjern asked in a flabbergasted
whisper. "Naro died just after Lilya did. Has one of the
servants been gossiping with you?" he demanded, standing. "How
did you know that!" He banged his fist on the table hard enough
the rattle the dishes. One glass tipped over, spilling crimson
wine across the snowy table linens but Bjern didn't even glance
at it.
Qui-Gon spoke hastily, this had to be resolved quickly or the
Regent would never be comfortable with them as negotiators.
"Regent Bjern, you are aware that Jedi have telepathic
abilities. I believe that my apprentice may be sensing some of
your distress from this and he is just reacting to it. I do
apologize." In truth, Qui-Gon believed no such thing but the
Regent relaxed visibly. Obi-Wan was watching this entire
episode with complete bewilderment and Qui-Gon's concern for
him ratched up another notch.
The Regent closed his eyes for a long moment and then nodded.
"Of course. And I am sorry for my outburst. This has just been
very ...difficult. Lilya was my only child and I miss her very
much." His words were little more than a broken whisper. He
sketched a quick bow. "If you will please excuse me."
He fled the table and Varil half-rose from his chair as if to
go after him but caught himself.
"I...I'm sorry if I said something inappropriate," Obi-Wan said
hesitantly. Confused and exhausted Obi-Wan couldn't even summon
up enough energy to sound properly respectful but he felt
strangely as if he needed to apologize. To his surprise, Varil
gave him a warm smile.
"It's all right, Jedi Kenobi. This was obviously not done
purposely, it is just a very sensitive subject for the Regent."
He did stand then, clasping his hands in front of him. "I will
take care of the matter if you would care to rest now?"
It was a subtle hint that Obi-Wan did not look especially well
and Qui- Gon seized it gratefully. "That would be greatly
appreciated, Varil. Thank you."
Varil waved off Qui-Gon's gratitude with a smile and bowed
easily before he too left the room. Qui-Gon stood and helped
Obi-Wan to his feet, catching his elbow before the young man
could stumble and he carefully guided his Padawan back to their
rooms. He settled Obi-Wan on his bed and then undressed him
when it became apparent that Obi-Wan was still too dazed to do
it himself. He was nearly finished when Obi-Wan spoke again.
"Master, what is happening to me?" Obi-Wan asked in a small
voice. He sounded so young, far from the confident young man
that Qui-Gon knew.
"I'm not sure, Padawan," he replied softly, finishing with
Obi-Wan's clothing and urging him underneath the blankets.
Obi-Wan complied silently but he stayed sitting up, searching
his master's face. Qui-Gon couldn't help reaching out to touch
Obi-Wan's cheek lightly. "I'm not sure what is going on,
Obi-Wan, but I will be finding out. Have no doubt of that." He
said it fiercely, leaving no room for disbelief and Obi-Wan
relaxed a fraction, lying back on the mattress and falling
asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.
Qui-Gon carefully tucked the blankets around his sleeping
Padawan, although the young man looked exhausted enough that he
doubted the sound of a ship taking off would have woken him. I
will find out, he promised again silently, staying just a bit
longer to watch his apprentice sleep before he sought out his
own bed.
Terror. He is running, running from someone, clutching torn
clothing to his chest as he runs and shoving aside branches
that lash at him painfully. He could hear the other right
behind him, crashing through the trees like some kind of great
beast. A final surge of speed and he breaks through the shrubs
but a ragged piece of cloth catches on a branch, jerking him to
a halt. It takes an eternal second for him to pull free, cloth
tearing as he lunges forward but it is too late, far too late
and he is captured.
He struggles, fighting as strong arms hold him and somewhere
far away he can here the dog howling frantically, barking and
snarling, the metal gate crashing as he claws at it
desperately.
He almost manages to pull free but he is backhanded harshly and
the taste of hot blood explodes in his mouth. Ears ringing,
tears leaking from his eyes he dimly recognizes the stench of
decay but it is only as he feels the cold water close over his
head that he realizes what the other is doing.
He struggles for the surface but is held down by a heavier,
stronger body, one hand closing over his face and pushing down
until he can feel the soft muck of the bottom against the back
of his head. His lungs are burning and oh, he can't breathe, he
can't *breathe* and his mouth opens, filling with foul water
that surges painfully into his lungs.
And suddenly he is outside it, watching, watching a dark figure
pin a much smaller body under the even darker water.
One pale mud-streaked hand reaches out of the water to claw
desperately at her attacker, then weaker until it finally falls
away limply into the dank water and her attacker finally
releases her and leaves her there, floating in the water like
forgotten doll.
"No! No, please! No, nonono..." Hands tried to capture him and
he lashed out, his fist connecting solidly with something
before it was grabbed and held and he screamed, struggling like
a feral creature in its grasp.
"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, it's me. Stop it, you're going to hurt
yourself. Padawan, stop, please!" The words didn't penetrate
his wild panic and he fought until he was exhausted, breathing
in harsh sobs as the grip on him gentled and he was pulled into
strong arms.
Qui-Gon rocked the gasping, limp form of his Padawan
helplessly. He'd woken to shrieks of terror from Obi-Wan's room
and he had all but flown to him only to find Obi-Wan screaming
and tangled in his bedclothes, battling some creature in his
dreams.
He pressed soft kisses to Obi-Wan's sweaty hair, murmuring
nonsense words of comfort until Obi-Wan's hoarse sobs finally
started to taper off.
"Master?" The single word was little more than a rasping
whisper but Qui-Gon nearly collapsed in relief.
"Yes, yes, it's me, Obi-Wan, it's me. You're safe, Padawan, I
have you. You're safe." And he abruptly found himself clutched
in a near death grip, Obi-Wan practically climbing up him in an
effort to get closer.
"Easy, shh, just relax now," Qui-Gon soothed, carefully
loosening Obi- Wan's stranglehold. He rubbed uneven circles
over Obi-Wan's back and felt a little of the young man's
tension ease away. "It was only a dream, Padawan," he said
softly, "Just a dream."
"No, it was real," Obi-Wan whispered. His voice trembled but it
was sure. "He killed her. I saw it, Master, he held her down
and..." A dry sob escaped the young man and Qui-Gon hushed him
again, rocking him like a child while his own feelings of
helplessness only increased.
There was a chance that the darkness formed by Lilya's murder
was affecting Obi-Wan. Or perhaps he was seeing some kind of
premonition or warning. Another thought nagged and Qui-Gon had
to throw up his shields so that Obi-Wan didn't feel it.
Or there was a chance that Lilya's murderer was close by and
Obi-Wan was picking up these images from them like so much
telepathic flotsam.
That thought chilled him. One of the clans people who wanted to
stop the treaty about the water rights, perhaps? And it had
already been demonstrated how far this person was willing to
go...
But right now he had to deal with the trembling and terrified
young man in his arms. "You need to rest, Obi-Wan," he murmured
into his Padawan's hair and the young man immediately tensed.
"It's all right, I'm staying right here. Don't worry, I'm not
going to leave." And I'll make sure you get some rest, Qui-Gon
thought grimly.
"You need to sleep, Obi-Wan," he said again, this time
injecting the words with the Force. Exhausted as he was,
Obi-Wan couldn't resist the command and his eyelids drifted
shut against his best efforts to stay awake. And true to his
word, Qui-Gon stayed, gently stroking Obi-Wan's short hair
while he silently guarded the young man's dreams.
He awoke slowly, blinking as he took in his unfamiliar
surroundings and the even more unfamiliar feel of arms around
him. Tilting his head, Obi-Wan saw that the arms belonged to
his master, who was sitting perfectly still in a meditative
trance.
"Master?" His mouth was so painfully dry it came out as a croak
but Qui-Gon's eyes opened immediately.
"Obi-Wan, how are you feeling?" Deep concern showed in
Qui-Gon's eyes and Obi-Wan closed his own, remembering his
dream with a tiny shiver before he again met his master's gaze.
"I'm all right, I think," he replied with a small smile. "For
now anyway." Qui-Gon tightened his arms, hugging the younger
man close and Obi-Wan felt something warm bloom inside him at
Qui-Gon's unusual show of affection.
"I have an idea about this, Obi-Wan and I'm going to look into
it. Right now I need to go speak with the Regent. You, my
Padawan," he said pointedly, "Are going to stay right here and
rest. Just rest," he stressed.
Obi-Wan didn't protest. Even after a full night's sleep he felt
as tired as if he had gone through a full regiment of training
katas.
"If you feel anything unusual or wrong you are to contact me
immediately. Do you understand me?" Qui-Gon's tone brooked no
refusal and Obi-Wan nodded obediently.
"Good." But Qui-Gon still hesitated, reluctant to leave Obi-Wan
alone even though duty demanded it. He looked searchingly into
Obi-Wan's pale eyes before saying, somewhat awkwardly, "You are
very important to me Obi-Wan Kenobi." And he pressed a fleeting
kiss to the young man's parted lips. Qui-Gon pulled back
quickly, ignoring Obi-Wan's wide, startled eyes, and fled to
his own rooms to wash and change.
Obi-Wan raised a hand to his tingling lips as he stared at his
Master's departing back until the door separating their rooms
clicked shut. And then shock transformed into absolute delight
and he hugged himself tightly, trying to contain his joy as he
mentally replayed that brief touch again and again.
"...and so I believe that these 'episodes' are a warning of
some sort." Qui-Gon concluded. The Regent listened silently,
his only sign of distress showing in his hands, which were
clasped together so tightly in his lap that his knuckles were
painfully white. Varil stood behind him with a supporting hand
resting on Bjern's shoulder. They were in the Regent's private
office, the only other place in the house that they were all
sure that they could not be overheard.
Qui-Gon had wasted no time in telling the Regent his concerns.
If Lilya's murderer was around then it was likely that they
were all in danger. He waited long minutes while the Regent sat
deeply in thought before finally speaking.
"Master Jinn, are you telling me that there is a chance that my
daughter's killer is nearby?" He didn't even wait for Qui-Gon's
nod before continuing. "Then all of my resources are at your
disposal."
He stood abruptly and went to stand by the window, resting his
hands on the sill as he looked outside at the garden below.
"Sir Jedi," he said softly, not turning around. "Our security
forces have searched for some clue or sign that would lead them
to her killer for past few years and they are no closer now to
finding anything than they were four years ago. If there is
even a chance that you can find the bastard who..." He choked
off, breathing deeply to steady himself.
In that moment, he was not the Regent of Alastaar but only a
father, one who had lost his child in the most horrific way
imaginable. When he spoke again, his voice low and calm. "If
there is even a chance of you finding Lilya's murder I mean to
take it." He turned from the window and retook his seat, again
assuming the mantle of Regent. His hands barely trembled as he
looked again at the Jedi. "I free you to investigate this
matter, Master Jinn," he said formally. "We can discuss the
water rights later."
Qui-Gon bowed in acknowledgment and then silently left the room
so that the man could break down and weep in peace.
Feeling along his bond with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon was pleased to
discovered that his Padawan was awake and well rested.
Relieved, he quickened his pace and entered Obi-Wan's room to
find the young man still abed and tucking into a tray of food
that the servants had brought him.
Glancing up, Obi-Wan swallowed his current mouthful and gave
Qui-Gon a cheerful grin. A tight knot of worry that had been
twisting in Qui- Gon's stomach eased at the sight. Kissing
Obi-Wan had been a something of a whim. He had kissed Obi-Wan
before on Breel when he had been so close to dying but the
young man had been unconscious. The opportunity to taste those
soft lips while Obi-Wan was awake had been too tempting to
resist and it was only after he'd done it that he wondered what
that one touch was going to cost him. But at Obi-Wan's grin his
worry that he had alienated his Padawan vaporized and he
returned the smile warmly.
"I take it you're feeling much better," he asked unnecessarily.
Obi- Wan's color spoke volumes, a much healthier tone than the
pallor he'd had of late.
"Much," Obi-Wan said before he began eating again with all the
haste of a starving wookie. Qui-Gon managed to stifle a
disapproving glare. Just this once he'd let it slide, he
decided with a mental sigh.
He walked over and sat on the bed, noting with some amusement
that Obi- Wan's manners abruptly improved. Unable to help
himself Qui-Gon reached over and lightly touched Obi-Wan's
face, needing to prove that the young man was truly well.
Obi-Wan gave him a questioning look and Qui- Gon spoke quickly
to cover his lapse.
"After you're finished, Padawan, I'd like to take a walk
through the gardens. That was where you had your first sense of
this, perhaps we will find the root of this problem there."
A tremor ran through the young man and was quickly stifled. His
voice was calm and even when he answered. "Of course, Master."
Qui-Gon did notice that Obi-wan abruptly started eating much
slower but didn't comment. A few spare minutes weren't going to
matter much and he could hardly blame Obi-Wan for not wanting
to go back when he felt very much the same.
The gardens were as lovely as they had been the day before and
the sun was warm but not overly so. The two Jedi had requested
that all the servants leave the gardens so they had them to
themselves.
They walked slowly along the maze-like sidewalks with Obi-Wan,
as Qui- Gon had instructed, trying not to concentrate on any
one thing but to just feel through the Force for anything
unusual, as he had the day before.
Or at least that was what Obi-Wan was trying to do. Much to his
embarrassment he found that he -was- focusing on one thing and
not something from the gardens either. His attention kept
wandering to the tall form of his master walking next to him.
And to that kiss.
Sweet delight blossomed in him again as he remembered that
brief touch. He stifled it quickly and yanked his wavering
attention back to the gardens before Qui-Gon sensed his lapse.
But the memory still hovered, just in the back of his mind.
After dreaming of such a thing for so long, now that it had
actually happened it was difficult to think of anything else.
Of course, he knew that it was entirely possible that Qui-Gon
hadn't meant anything by it, that to him it had just been a
gesture of affection between Master and Padawan. Obi-Wan's mind
refused to accept that. Certainly there were other ways of
showing simple caring that were more appropriate than a kiss,
weren't there?
A kiss should mean something more, Obi-Wan decided. It had
certainly meant more to him. He was completely absorbed in his
thoughts when the object of them abruptly interrupted them by
speaking.
"Do you feel something unusual, Padawan? You look a bit
peaked." Qui- Gon's voice, to Obi-Wan's guilty relief, held
only innocent concern and Obi-Wan managed to confuse his master
further by promptly blushing to the roots of his hair.
"Not yet, Master," he answered as calmly as he could and he
ruined it as his face reddened further when Qui-Gon merely
raised an eyebrow. Yesterday's horror and distress seemed to be
as distant as Coruscant at this moment and a mischievous
thought came to him, a way that he could test just what Qui-Gon
had meant that morning.
"Actually, Master, I think I do feel something, some kind of
compulsion or urge," he blurted out, wincing inwardly at his
own daring. No backing out now.
Qui-Gon turned to him immediately, his face and emotions
flooded with concern, making Obi-Wan almost feel guilty for
what he was about to do. Almost. Quickly, before his nerves
could overwhelm him Obi-Wan settled his hands on Qui-Gon's
shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his startled face.
Obi-Wan heard him suck in a sharp breath and take a half step
backwards. He followed, not allowing his master to escape so
easily but also not forcing. He kept the pressure gentle, the
kiss chaste and simply waited, balanced almost on his toes so
he could reach Qui-Gon's lips. Fear and hope fought within him
and fear was close to winning when Qui-Gon finally moved,
sliding his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and hauling him closer,
deepening the innocent kiss into one that was anything but.
Qui-Gon's tongue nudged at Obi-Wan's closed lips and he parted
them, allowing that rough velvet to stroke inside, warm and wet
and better than a thousand fantasies.
Later, when the horror of this mission had become little more
than the occasional nightmare, Obi-Wan would remember this
kiss, this first real kiss with the mingled perfume of flowers
and earthy soil from the gardens combining in Obi-Wan's senses
with the fresh scent of soap and the faintest tang of sweat
from his master. He would remember the feel of a large, hard
body against his own and familiar hands on his back holding him
close and know that then, more than any other time past in his
life, he was just where he most wanted to be.
The warning was hardly more than a whisper through the Force
but Qui- Gon reacted to it before he had a chance to even think
it through, throwing Obi-Wan physically to the ground and
following him. He had covered the younger man body with his own
a bare second before the energy bolt ripped through the empty
air where they had been standing.
Even then, it was still close enough that Qui-Gon felt the heat
of the blast as it passed over them and into the copse of
bushes behind them. By the time the plants had begun to shrivel
and smolder the Jedi were already on their feet, lightsabers in
hand as they waited for another attack. It didn't come.
"The blast came from that way," Obi-Wan said, nodding towards
the eastern section of the garden. The section that was nearest
the outer gate. Obi-Wan waited for his master, the question
clear in his eyes, stay or pursue?
"He'll be long gone, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered. A speculative
look came into his eyes, one that Obi-Wan knew well. It meant
that his master had realized something.
"Someone doesn't want us to investigate this, Padawan," Qui-Gon
told him in hushed tones. "But only someone in this house could
have known that we were. As far as the rest of the planet is
concerned we are here to help negotiate the water rights."
They looked at each other silently, both considering just what
this meant. Their attacker would have to be, in some way,
associated with the Bjern household. As if ashamed by the
realization the sun concealed itself behind a layer of clouds
and a misting rain began to fall, coloring the world with
grayness and mud.
It is difficult to look dignified when you have mud ground into
your clothing and wet leaves tangled in your hair but if anyone
could do it, Obi-Wan decided, it was his master. Qui-Gon could
have been casually strolling around in his finest uniform for
all the discomfort he showed.
Obi-Wan, on the other hand, felt wet, bedraggled and filthy and
knew he looked it. Rolling around on the ground may have saved
their lives but it hadn't done much for their appearances. And
Obi-Wan wasn't exactly happy that it had interrupted the only
pleasant thing to happen on this mission thus far.
Apparently their appearance matter very little to the servants
in the manor. No one gave them a second glance as they trudged
inside and made their way to their rooms, not even an annoyed
look at the mud they were tracking in.
They went back to their rooms with undue haste and Obi-Wan sent
up a silent thank you that the Alastaarian's dislike of
mechanics didn't extend to indoor plumbing.
Some time later, clean and wearing fresh clothing, Obi-Wan went
into Qui-Gon's room and stopped as abruptly as if he'd run into
a wall. Qui- Gon was apparently just out of the shower and was
wearing nothing more than a loose pair of pants. Obi-Wan
swallowed dryly at the sight of those thin pants clinging
damply to Qui-Gon's skin while the Jedi Master toweled his hair
dry.
Obi-Wan had seen Qui-Gon in various states of undress before,
after six odd years together it would have been strange if he
hadn't but it was somehow different now. His master was
certainly...well, there was certainly a lot of him to look at.
He told himself to stop being foolish. They had only kissed not
signed a betrothal contract. It didn't have to mean anything.
Qui-Gon finally noticed him standing there and, to Obi-Wan's
mixed relief and disappointment, pulled on a tunic before he
gestured at the small table in his room, which was presently
covered with an enormous stack of papers.
"I asked the Regent to get us all the information their
security force had found on Lilya's death," Qui-Gon said. "I'd
like to go over them, see if we can find anything that they
missed."
Obi-Wan's heart sank. Qui-Gon hadn't even mentioned what had
happened in the gardens. His throat tightened in disappointment
and he managed to nod, went to retrieve the papers but his
master's voice stopped him.
"Obi-Wan." The older man was brushing his hair out in front of
the large vanity in the room and his eyes met Obi-Wan's in the
mirror. "Padawan, we need to concentrate on this right now but
we -will- be talking about it later, I promise you." He
softened the words with a smile and Obi-Wan returned it
brightly, the tightness easing into the now familiar sense of
joy he felt whenever it seemed that Qui-Gon might actually feel
something past masterly affection for him.
The knowledge that there would be a discussion later warmed
him, giving him new energy and he all but bounced over to
gather up the papers, not even minding the inconvenience of
having to do this by hand rather than on a datapad.
A few hours and several stacks of paper later and they still
hadn't found anything useful. There was a great deal of
information on several clanspeople with known violent
tendencies, interviews with the household servants but it was
mostly weeding through a mass of stinkflowers in hopes of
finding a century bloom. No one had any true information, no
one had seen or even really heard anything that night.
Obi-Wan glanced up when his master sighed loudly and rubbed his
eyes tiredly. They were both stretched out on Qui-Gon's bed,
the only large surface in the room and discarded pages were
strewn around them in messy piles.
"Perhaps we are going about this wrong," Qui-Gon said, stifling
a yawn. A glance outside confirmed that it was getting dark out
and he hadn't slept much the night before. He moved to lie on
his back and stretched out muscles that were protesting the
long hours of sitting. Obi-Wan scooted across the bed,
wrinkling papers as he went, to sit cross- legged next to him.
"How do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked. He hid a smile when Qui-Gon
attempted to push a lock of his hair back before answering,
only to have it fall right back into his face. He'd left it
hanging loose and while it might be irritating to him Obi-Wan
found it disturbingly attractive. He forcibly dragged his
wayward attention back to the task at hand. Time for that
later, although the way they were making progress it was going
to be -much- later, he thought glumly.
"Everyone assumes that she was murdered as a kind of
retribution against the Regent." Qui-Gon rolled over and
snagged the list of servant's interviews. "That is what
everyone had said and that is the assumption that we have been
following. But there is nothing in any of this," he made a
sweeping gesture to indicate the various papers scattered
about, "to show that. No one scrap of proof."
"So, what you're saying is that someone is trying to place
blame on the clanspeople?" Obi-Wan busily went through yet
another stack of papers, frowning as he considered his master's
theory. "But why?" he asked finally.
"That's a very good question, Obi-Wan, I...what is it?" Obi-Wan
had gone perfectly still, holding one small piece of paper. His
hands started to shake but he didn't even blink, just stared
with wide, horrified eyes.
He could hear Qui-Gon call his name as if from a great distance
but Obi-Wan couldn't look away. The paper had fallen from the
stack he had been going through and he had picked it up without
thinking to find that it was an old fashion two-dimensional
photoimage and the world had fallen away from him as he slowly
realized what the photo showed.
It was Lilya, pulled from the water and lying on the
embankment. Her body was water-bloated, the limbs distended so
badly that the seams of her clothing had spilt and fish-white,
swollen flesh was visible through the ripped cloth. Her skin
was grimed with streaks of mud, her hair caked with it but what
had caught Obi-Wan gaze was her foot.
Sometime between her death and the discovery of her corpse she
had lost a shoe and though he was sickened and shocked at the
sight Obi-Wan could not look away from that one bare foot, with
its fat, waterlogged toes.
Nothing could be worse than this, Obi-Wan thought distantly,
oblivious to Qui-Gon's frantic questions as he stared at the
grotesque form that had once been the beautiful girl in the
painting he had seen. But even as he thought it his gaze
flicked ever so slightly upward to her face and he saw that it
was pocked with decay and her eyes were partially gone.
In a instant of grim comprehension he knew that some animal
from the swamp, fish perhaps, had done this. He saw it clearly
for a brief second, her limp body, flesh jellied and bloated,
floating in stinking water while tiny fish nibbled away her
eyes and Obi-Wan was struck with a flashback of memory,
foul-tasting water and the stench of decay.
It was too much. He was off the bed in an instant, the picture
fluttering to the floor as he ran into the fresher. He nearly
fell to his knees in front of the sani-unit and retched. Every
time he thought it was over the vision of those sightless eyes
returned and he would vomit again until his stomach was empty
and he could only heave in painfully dry spasms.
Finally he managed to get his convulsing stomach back under
control and he sat back, trembling, and pressed his sweaty face
against the cool tile of the wall.
The feel of something wet against his face nearly caused him to
scream and for a brief, hysterical moment he knew that if he
opened his eyes Lilya would be standing there with her one
shoeless foot and her spongy, wet hand touching his face. But
when Obi-Wan opened his eyes it was only Qui-Gon, kneeling next
to him and pressing a washcloth against his forehead.
Obi-Wan took the offered washcloth, mumbling a thank you and he
scrubbed his face with it. Qui-Gon said nothing, only knelt
beside him radiating silent concern and Obi-Wan felt a twinge
of guilt, he knew Qui-Gon was probably nearly beside himself
with worry but Obi-Wan was at a loss to explain.
In the end he said nothing, he just turned away and managed to
stand on shaky legs, going to the sink to rinse out his mouth.
"Are you all right, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked hesitantly. He'd
gotten a glimpse of the picture and understood Obi-Wan's
reaction to it instantly, especially considering the visions
the younger man had been having as of late.
Obi-Wan was still hunched over the sink, resting his head on
his hands. "Yeah," he said at last, exhaling. "It just...caught
me off guard." A few more deep breaths and he felt calm enough
to face his master. The sight of his master, strong and capable
and oh, so wonderful was suddenly too much to resist.
He nearly collapsed into Qui-Gon's arms and his master held him
tightly, offering wordless comfort. He could smell the clean
scent of Qui-Gon's soap again but it was nothing like the
erotic embrace of the gardens. All Obi-Wan wanted right now was
for Qui-Gon to be there and he was, giving himself to his
Padawan without reservations.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure how long they stood like that, the tile
cold beneath their bare feet and arms starting to cramp but it
wasn't until he started to pull away that Qui-Gon released him.
"Better?" Qui-Gon asked, his eyes dark with concern and Obi-Wan
realized with sad amusement that he had seen that particular
expression more in the past month than he had all their other
years together combined.
"Much," he replied and with a touch of his usual mischievous
daring he leaned up and just brushed his lips against
Qui-Gon's. He pulled back before the older man had a chance to
respond and blithely ignored the look Qui-Gon sent him as he
turned and walked quickly back into the bedroom.
The bed was liberally coated with papers and Obi-Wan sighed at
the mess. An arm was abruptly slung over his shoulders and he
heard Qui-Gon sigh as well as he surveyed the room.
"We'll just leave it all it is, Padawan, and stay in your room
tonight."
Stunned, Obi-Wan gaped up at his master and was briefly
grateful that he had to look up because his eyes were so wide
that they might have just rolled out onto the floor.
Qui-Gon continued as if he hadn't noticed his Padawan's shock.
"After the incident in the garden I think it would be better if
one of us stands guard while the other sleeps." And that way I
can keep track of your dreams as well, Qui-Gon added silently.
Obi-Wan nodded quickly, his cheeks heating to a rather
impressive shade of crimson and Qui-Gon had to bite back a
knowing smile. At least he'd gotten the young man's mind off of
that damned picture, he thought, and when Obi-Wan pulled away
from his embrace to walk back to his own room, Qui-Gon hung
back for a brief moment and admired the view of Obi-Wan's slim
hips and backside. This mission could not be finished soon
enough he decided with a mental sigh, for a number of reasons.
"If you don't mind, Master, I'd like to take the first watch,"
Obi-Wan said as Qui-Gon followed him into the room.
Qui-Gon gave him an appraising look. His bout of sickness had
again left him again looking wan. His face was colorless except
for his brightly flushed cheeks, the slashes of scarlet garish
on his pale face. But his eyes were flashing with determination
and Qui-Gon grimaced mentally, knowing that if he refused he
would have a battle on his hands.
"If you feel that you are up to it, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied
noncommittally as he moved to open a window near the bed. The
Manor had no cooling system and trying to sleep without an open
window made one feel as if they were slowly smothering.
Obi-Wan straddled a chair next to the bed and rested his chin
on the back, watching his master. "Even if I didn't take first
watch I'm hardly in the mood to sleep, Master." A brief image
of Lilya's bloated body rose in his mind and even though it
wouldn't help he squeezed his eyes shut, his breaths coming
hard and fast between gritted teeth as he struggled to push it
away.
"Obi-Wan?" The deep timbre of Qui-Gon's voice tugged his
thoughts back to the moment and Obi-Wan opened his eyes,
looking up to see Qui-Gon standing over him.
"Obi-Wan, I won't be able to sleep either if I'm too involved
with worrying about you." Deep blue eyes awash with concern
studied Obi- Wan's upturned face. "I ask you again, are you
sure you are up to this?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered firmly. He could not let this rule him.
He needed complete control over all his senses or else he had
no right to call himself a Jedi.
Qui-Gon seemed to understand his need, he nodded once and then
without bothering to remove his clothes he settled onto the
bed. In all truth, Qui-Gon was more than happy to let Obi-Wan
take the first watch. He had barely slept the night before and
today had been a particularly trying day. Even a Jedi Master
needed sleep on occasion.
He closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out but his mind
resisted the command to rest. It was picking idly over the
murder reports, there was something not right, something he
wasn't picking up on but reaching for it only pushed it further
from his reach. Qui-Gon let it go for the time. Perhaps sleep
would draw it out.
He rolled over. Rolled over again, trying to get comfortable
and he finally sighed loudly, rolling over yet again and called
Obi-Wan's name softly. His Padawan was at his side in an
instant.
"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan asked in a hushed voice. In response,
one of Qui-Gon's hands raised up and slid around to cup the
back of his head. It tugged him gently downward and, a bit
confused, Obi-Wan let it. Warm lips touched his in a tender,
lingering kiss, the tip of Qui-Gon's tongue lightly probing his
mouth before Qui-Gon pulled away and lay back with Obi-Wan
still in his arms.
"That's better. Thank you," Qui-Gon murmured, holding the young
man close for just a moment long. Then he made as if to push
the young man away but Obi-Wan held tighter, refused to let go
and Qui-Gon yielded easily. He let his hands wander down
Obi-Wan's back, over the tunic and then sliding under it,
stroking warm, silky skin. Obi-Wan was perfectly still,
allowing the light touch without protest or encouragement, his
quickening breaths the only sign of his agreement.
This was not a good idea, Qui-Gon thought hazily, even as he
captured Obi-Wan's mouth in a harder, more insistent kiss. They
shouldn't let themselves be distracted like this. But the
memory of Obi-Wan's pale, frightened face only minutes ago and
that same face weeks ago, smeared with blood, were haunting
him, in their own way as tormenting as Obi- Wan's visions were.
Perhaps this would help the both of them.
He stopped thinking then, stopped trying to make excuses and
simply relished the feel of Obi-Wan's slim body writhing
against his own, gasps and pleas escaping him brokenly as
Qui-Gon pulled him closer still, fumbling with the younger
man's clothing and freeing him.
Obi-Wan muffled a cry against Qui-Gon's shoulder when he was
clasped in a strong hand and stroked ruthlessly. He arched into
the touch, rubbing his thigh against Qui-Gon's still clothed
shaft and heard a gasp in reply. More fumbling and then they
were rubbing against each other eagerly, still half-dressed,
catching moans and soft cries in each others mouths as they
both shuddered in completion.
Resting his cheek on Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan listened to the
frantic beating slow, the gasping ease and breathing deepen and
he knew without looking that Qui-Gon had drifted off.
He shifted off the older man and straightened both of their
clothing, grimacing at the dampness. Nothing could be done
about it just now; a shower could wait until the morning. The
thought of a shower with Qui- Gon made him smile.
Moving off of the bed, Obi-Wan hesitated and looked again at
his master, watching him sleep. The taste of Qui-Gon's kisses
were still in his mouth and he knew that he was smiling
foolishly but didn't much care. There was only the one dark
blemish of this mission that dimmed his happiness but just for
this moment, watching his master sleep, Obi- Wan managed to put
it out of his mind.
The room was dark and still, with only the faint sounds of a
slight breeze rustling the bed curtains breaking the silence.
Obi-Wan was sitting cross-legged in a corner, lightsaber in his
lap as he tried to meditate.
But while he could force his body to stillness his mind refused
to cooperate. He was trying to focus on peace and serenity but
all he kept thinking about was fear. And Lilya.
Why were images from this dead girl tormenting -him-? Qui-Gon
had told him that perhaps he was picking up on her murders
thoughts but that didn't seem right. His visions, especially
his dreams, had been from Lilya's point of view. Shouldn't it
be the opposite if he were reading her killer's memories? What
did that mean?
Could he be picking up Lilya's memories then? An uncontrollable
shiver of fear trickled icily down his spine. He cast it
quickly away, he was not going to give into fear and even if it
were true then Lilya was now a part of the Force. What was
there to fear in that?
In life, Lilya had been a good-hearted young woman who had
simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A woman with
the misfortune to enjoy midnight walks in the gardens and how
could she be blamed for that? She had been at her own home and
the gardens -were- lovely at night, the cooler air soothing
after the usual heat of the day and if Obi-Wan concentrated he
could almost feel it, could nearly smell the heady fragrance of
blooming flowers.
It was the sound that woke him. A strange, mournful wailing and
Qui-Gon was on his feet, lightsaber in hand, before he was even
completely awake. He peered around the darkened room warily,
his senses screaming that there was danger somewhere,
everywhere, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
The room was still and he had relaxed a fraction when he heard
it again. The long, drawn out cry of something in terrible pain
but it wasn't nearby, it was coming from outside...
He realized what it was even as he saw that Obi-Wan was no
longer in the room, his lightsaber abandoned in a corner. He
was out the door in an instant, running to where he knew his
Padawan must have gone and as he ran his ears were filled with
the mournful sounds of a dog howling.
Obi-Wan walked calmly down one the garden's side paths,
breathing in deeply the sweetly scented night air. He was
distantly aware that he couldn't recall leaving his room, it
was as if one moment he had been meditating and the next he was
here, walking.
It didn't seem to matter. However he had gotten here he was in
no hurry to leave. The gardens were cooler than they had been
that afternoon and the air felt damp and humid from the earlier
rain but not uncomfortably so. Any discomfort was more than
worth being able to enjoy the heady perfume of the night
blooming flowers that hung heavily around him.
He walked on without thought, just one foot in front of the
other, stopping occasionally to admire the waxy-petaled loru
flowers that opened only at night and hung in large cascades of
white from their vines.
It was a quiet voice from behind that finally broke him out of
his trance and Obi-Wan whirled around to face the other,
recognition dawning and heart pounding painfully hard as he was
filled with a sense of terror that was not his own.
"Jedi Kenobi, you're up rather late tonight. Are you enjoying
the gardens?"
It took only moments for Qui-Gon to reach the garden doors and
that was where he was stopped. He twisted the door handle
frantically but it refused to open, resisting his efforts.
Without even thinking Qui-Gon pushed against the door, putting
his not inconsiderable weight behind his shoulder as he heaved
against the thick wood. It didn't budge. Backing up a pace and
he rammed into it again, putting Force behind the blow and the
wood creaked in protest but remained closed.
He stepped back, shoulder aching and he was ready to cut the
damned door open when a voice came from the top of the stairs.
"What in blazes is going on?" Qui-Gon looked up to see the
Regent descending the staircase, still wearing his dressing
gown.
"I haven't time to explain, Your Grace, I believe Obi-Wan is in
danger," he said, returning his attention to the door.
A wash of concern came from the other man. "He is having
another spell?"
"I'm not sure but I intend to find out." Another howl suddenly
rent the air, echoing through the room as it trailed away
Bjern staggered backwards as if struck. "That's impossible," he
whispered.
Qui-Gon ignored him, his senses screaming that there was no
time to wait, no time and that Obi-Wan was in danger and alone.
The thrum of a lightsaber ignition sounded strangely loud in
the eerie silence left in the wake of the howl and Qui-Gon
slashed at the barrier between him and his Padawan only to have
his weapon halt a bare centimeter from the door. Something,
some energy held him back. He strained against it, reaching for
the Force and pushing downward with all the strength he could
muster.
Only to have it thrust back at him and send him flying
backwards, his lightsaber dousing as it left his hand and
rolled across the polished floor. Qui-Gon caught himself before
he fell, staggering into the Regent.
Bjern didn't even seem to notice. He stood as if in a trance,
eyes focused on nothing.
"It's not possible," he said again, breathing heavily as he
turned to Qui-Gon suddenly with wild eyes, "Can't you hear it?
That is not possible! Naro is dead, he died just after Lilya
did. He is dead, how can he be howling!" He was
shrieking by the end, fists clenched in Qui-Gon's tunic as he
shook the larger man.
"Bjern. Bjern!" Qui-Gon pulled away, shaking the man. Reaching
for the Force, he blanketed the Regent in calm, drawing it into
his own trembling nerves. "I hear it too," he said softly and
some of the panic left Bjern's eyes. "I hear it but right now I
need to get outside. How do I turn off the shield around the
door?"
Bjern shook his head, bewildered, "There is no shield around
the door. I would never permit such machinings in my home." His
words were punctuated by another howl, this one ending in an
enraged snarl. Both men shivered, the hair on their arms
prickling. "Can no one else here that?" Bjern muttered. "It
should have wakened the household by now!"
Qui-Gon stepped back and retrieved his lightsaber, again
regarding the door. "Perhaps they can't here it," he said
absently, "The servant's quarters are on the other side of the
estate." He couldn't think about that now, all his senses were
wrapped up in Obi-Wan.
"Yes, you are right, of course." Bjern moved to sit on the
stairs, still talking to himself. "No one heard that night
either. Even Varil didn't hear and his rooms are next to mine."
Something about that caught in Qui-Gon's head, penetrating his
all- consuming worry. "Varil? Wasn't Varil with you on your
trip?"
The Regent shook his head. "No, it was only an overnight trip.
I didn't think it was necessary to drag us both out, I..." He
trailed off as Qui- Gon abruptly turned away, running for the
main door.
That niggling thought that had been pestering Qui-Gon all night
finally penetrated. The reports, all the servants had filled
out reports and all of them said that they had heard nothing.
Even the one that should have, should have heard -something-,
especially with the heat making everyone sleep with their
windows open. The one servant whose quarters were in the main
house. And when he slammed into the front door and found it
similarly locked, Qui-Gon could do nothing but sink to his
knees and stare at the dark wood in an agony of frustration
while the wailing cry of the dog again soared.
"You are enjoying the gardens?" Varil prompted when Obi-Wan
didn't speak. He stepped closer to where Obi-Wan stood,
glancing around at the surrounding flora. Obi-Wan couldn't
move, couldn't breath, a flashflood of memories washing over
him.
a hand pushing him under the water
"It is quite lovely here at night," Varil said, and then he
paused, studying Obi-Wan closely. "Jedi Kenobi? Are you all
right?" Solicitous concern and Varil stepped closer, extending
a hand towards the young man frozen only a meter away.
someone above him, holding him down, the face water-blurred
but visible still
"It was you," Obi-Wan whispered, eyes dilated as he stared at
Varil, backing away without ever taking his eyes from the other
man. Varil stopped, looking confused.
"What are you talking about...?"
torn clothing, filthy water, cold, so cold...
"It was you," Louder now, his voice gaining strength as he
stumbled backwards, nearly falling but he caught himself in
time. "She told you no and you couldn't accept that could you?
But she fought you off, she fought you and she ran."
Varil's expression changed so abruptly it was as if another
person had stepped into his place. A sense of darkness came so
thickly from him that Obi-Wan dimly wondered how it was that he
had never sensed it before. But his thoughts left him,
blurring, shifting as he spoke again, his eyes never leaving
the dark man who was coming closer, stalking him now with the
eyes of a predator.
"I fought you and ran away," his voice said, Obi-Wan heard it
like it was said by another and perhaps it was. "I ran away. I
told you that I would tell my father and I ran away." No longer
his voice, higher, more feminine and Obi-Wan let go then, let
it take him in. "I told you I would tell my father that you
attacked me, and you couldn't have that, could you? You would
have lost all your prestige then and gone back to being just
nobody, just like you have always been! Nothing more than my
father's shadow!"
"Shut up, you bitch!" Varil suddenly screamed, lunging towards
him and Obi-Wan jumped back just in time, the voice within him
shrieking for him to run, run away, to get away and he never
questioned it, never considered fighting as terror overwhelmed
him and he turned and ran into the darkness.
Gasping for breath, branches catching at his clothes like
clawed fingers, Obi-Wan ran and he could hear Varil behind him.
He was back in the nightmare again, he was Lilya, running from
the man who had just attacked her. There was not enough air in
her lungs to scream and all she could do was run.
The path forked ahead of her and she turned towards the right,
towards the swamp where she could hide, yes, there were plenty
of places to hide. But her feet resisted and she stood in the
path uncertainly.
No! Something inside her cried, No, not right, that
isn't the way!
There was no time for this hesitation, she could here -him-
coming, making incoherent sounds of rage as he tore through the
trees and bushes. The left path only lead deeper into the
gardens, she should go right. Another step.
No! The voice howled, That path leads to death! Go
left, left!
Varil burst through the bushes behind her and she shrieked,
turning and she ran blindly, felt his fingers just scrape her
arm as she pulled away and ran, branches stinging as they
slapped her face and all she could do was run. The voice within
her fell silent and she dimly felt its contentment as she fled
down the left path, towards the sounds of her dog howling.
His bare feet slapping on the hardwood floors, Bjern paced. The
Jedi was not far away, kneeling next to the door with his eyes
closed in some kind of meditation as he had been for some time
now. Impatience boiled within him, the need to do something,
anything and finally, he could stand it no longer.
"Well?" Bjern snapped, fear and anger sharpening his voice.
"Can you open it or not?"
Qui-Gon didn't open his eyes. "No," he murmured. He heard
Bjern's anguished sound and the pacing began once more. It only
lasted a moment before the Regent turned on him again.
"And so you are just going to kneel there? That boy is in
danger, we both know that. We have to find a way outside!"
"I know that he is in danger!" Qui-Gon did open his eyes then
and glared at Bjern. The man was shaking visibly, from fear,
from anger, Qui-Gon didn't know or care. "I know he is in
danger," he said again, softening his tone. "But whatever is
happening we apparently are not allowed to interfere."
He blocked out the next spate of Bjern's helpless rage,
concentrating instead on his bond with Obi-Wan. It was so dim,
seemed so far away. But it was there. The very Force seemed to
be vibrating with an immense power, not lightness or dark but
simply there and he could not push through that net of energy
to feel anything but that dim touch.
Please be safe, he thought suddenly, desperately. The emptiness
in their bond struck a chord of terror within him and Qui-Gon
couldn't separate himself from it, his mouthed filled with the
unfamiliar metallic taste of fear. Please, please be safe,
Obi-Wan. And be careful.
She was close now, her ears ringing with Naro's snarls and she
could hear the gate crashing as the large animal lunged against
it. Another corner and the kennel was in view. The metal was
rusted and darkened with neglect and greenery had wound its way
through the fencing, rotting the wood away. But the gate held,
the latch clanging as it rocked.
She ran for it, reaching out and her foot caught on an exposed
root, throwing her heavily to the ground. She didn't stop,
crawling towards the gate but a hand caught her ankle and
dragged her backwards. She did scream then and the dog echoed
her as she was roughly turned on her back.
Hands closed around her throat, cruel thumbs digging into the
soft flesh under her chin and she gasped for air, struggling
against a larger body.
Any trace of the genteel nobleman was gone now, dark eyes
glittered down at her from a face twisted into a horrifying
grimace of rage. The hands around her neck tightened, choking
the air from her.
"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Varil
hissed, shaking the young man beneath him, snapping his head
back as he gasped for breath, his hands clawing frantically at
Varil's. "She was dead, you should have let her stay dead,
Jedi. Now you can join her."
Jedi. Something came to her at that word, something that she
should remember and Obi-Wan surged forward pushing aside
Lilya's thoughts. In one desperate effort he twisted, flipping
Varil up and over his head. He heard the other man cry in pain
as he landed and ignored it, scrambling forward the last few
feet to the gate, struggling with the rusted latch. Just as
Varil gained his feet again and was staggering towards him,
Obi-Wan finally ripped the latch free, a bright blossom of pain
from cuts biting into his hands. And then it happened.
The door blew open with a howling gust of wind, throwing
Obi-Wan to the ground. There was nothing but sound and wind and
dust, swirling in a storm of power that arched around and
through him and Obi-Wan dimly heard Varil screaming as he
stared upward at the night sky, blinking against the dust until
his eyes drifted closed.
The sound of the door rattling jerked Qui-Gon out of his
meditation and he watched from his kneeling position as it
creaked open easily and Obi-Wan stumbled inside. The sun was
just rising and Obi-Wan was briefly outlined in the crimson
light as if he were something otherworldly and strangely
beautiful.
And then he staggered forward into Qui-Gon's upraised arms and
he was just Obi-Wan again, face crisscrossed with scratches and
his clothes smeared with streaks of dirt and blood. He said
nothing, ignored the Regent's furious questions and he sank
into his master's embrace, burying his face against the rough
cloth of Qui-Gon's tunic as he wept silently for a young girl
with dark hair and mischievous eyes.
"I do thank you for all your assistance, Sir Jedi." Bjern said,
clasping Qui-Gon's hand solemnly. Qui-Gon returned the clasp
with a nod, glancing again at the garden doors. Their mission
here was finished. With the discovery that it had been Varil
who had murdered Lilya the clans had been very subdued over the
negotiation's for water rights and an agreement had been
reached in a few hours instead of the expected days.
Now Qui-Gon was just waiting for Obi-Wan. The young man had
recovered quickly, his injuries had been very minor and he had
firmly requested some time alone before they left, which
Qui-Gon had reluctantly allowed. At this point he was more than
eager to put several lightyears between this planet and his
Padawan. They were going to Tal-Heel again, he had already
decided. Obi-Wan would likely protest that he didn't need
another vacation, especially not right on the heels of their
last one but Qui-Gon didn't think the protests would last long,
especially when he learned that it what lessons were to be. It
was past time that he and Obi-Wan had a long talk.
He smiled as he thought of Obi-Wan, his beautiful Obi-Wan,
-his-, as he listened absently to Bjern's gratitude, his
attention focused on a distant pale figure sitting on a bench
in the garden.
Obi-Wan sat quietly on the cold stone of the bench, knees drawn
up and his arms wrapped around them. Over, it as finally over.
Varil's body had been discovered the next morning, although no
one had needed to tell Obi-Wan that he had been floating in the
murky swamp water, his flesh marked with the bite wounds of
some animal.
He hadn't told Qui-Gon what had happened, not yet, and his
Master hadn't asked. Maybe soon, he would tell. Maybe. After
they had had the talk that Qui-Gon had promised him. A touch of
warm penetrated the shell of cold around him at that thought.
Yes, he and Qui-Gon had many things to talk about, this could
wait a little longer.
He stood then, feeling his master's impatience through their
bond and cast one last glance at the gardens. They were
beautiful, full of life and warmth and no longer filled with
secrets.
"It's over Lilya," he whispered, closing his eyes and breathing
in the sweet scent of the flowers. "It's over. Rest now." He
turned to leave and a sudden gust of warm wind blew through the
garden, shaking the vines above him and showering him with
flower petals.
Obi-Wan looked up, startled and smiled then, just a little as
he turned and walked away, going to the man who was waiting for
him. His eyes were shining as they met Qui-Gon's and he let
every bit of love he felt for the man show in them as he was
abruptly pulled into an embrace and never mind that half of the
Bjern household was watching. Qui-Gon held him fiercely for
just a moment before he pulled back, both of them bowing
politely to the bemused Regent as they turned and walked away.
Neither of them noticed the light breeze that blew through the
gardens again before it faded away, leaving the gardens still
again and filled with nothing more than quiet and the sweet
perfume of flowers.
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