Not on Deaf Ears
by Anastasia (padawan_ana@yahoo.com)
Categories: angst, h/c, romance
Rating: PG-13 for possible
pre-slash connotations
Pairing: Q/O
Status: Complete
Archive: M_A
Spoilers: Yes, a bit for the JA book series.
Summary: On a mission to a xenophobic planet, Qui-Gon is injured and
Obi-Wan risks his own life attempting to keep his Master alive as they await
rescue. To pass the time, Obi-Wan recounts stories that include growing up in
the Temple, meeting Qui-Gon for the first time, and his fight to conquer
feelings of self-doubt and loneliness while being passed up again and again in
his quest to be someone's padawan. (High amounts of h/c and angst ensue, with
the usual 'Ana twists'!)
Feedback: Please! When I don't hear from
anyone, I get a complex... : ) Flames, should you feel the need to send them,
will be cheerfully forwarded to the ferret, who will hunt down all flamers and
bite their ankles. Thank you!
Disclaimers: We all know who these
characters belong to (Thank you, Mr. Lucas!), so there's no question as to who's
getting all the credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful Jedi. (Hint:
It's not me...) Disappointing as that is, I'd just like to borrow them to tell
this story...
Inspiration: Sick in bed for several days last month, I
had a craving to read/write a story with just some gentle romance and angsty,
caring, h/c stuff. This is the result.
Thank yous: This story, I'm very
happy to say, was followed and edited step-by-step by Calysta Rose. We generally
used irc to hold our brainstorming/editing sessions, but email was in there,
too. Caly did a wonderful job commenting, suggesting word changes and ideas, and
helping me to make this the best story it could be. I've never written a story
before using a 'live beta/editor' and it's been a *wonderful* experience! Look
for Caly and I to be teaming up as writer/editor again in the future. : ) Thank
you for *all* your support, Caly! You are just the best!
Thanks also to
Regs, Kaly, Mistress Elektra and Amber Biles for giving the story a 'test drive'
before its posting. Their helpful comments and suggestions have been woven into
the story, making it just that much better. Thank you!
Note: Calysta
Rose has suggested a follow-up story to this one, to show how everything turns
out and to tell things from Qui-Gon's perspective. If all goes well, I should be
starting on that story almost immediately.
Another note: / / denotes
telepathy between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon; / / / / denotes Obi-Wan's storytelling;
italics represents Obi-Wan's self-thoughts.
"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan brushed
long hair back from his master's damp, pale face. "Master, can you hear me?"
Gently, he stroked a finger along Qui-Gon's cheek, willing him to open his eyes.
Obi-Wan lifted the makeshift washcloth, fashioned from the belt of his
robes, from Qui-Gon's forehead. In the burning mid-day heat, the cloth no longer
held even a hint of moisture. And Qui-Gon's face was red from the unforgiving
sun.
Slowly, Obi-Wan stood up. His legs and back protested the movement,
and he was forced to spend a moment stretching his aching muscles back into
compliance. Stiffly Obi-Wan covered the ten-meter distance to the nearly-dry
river bed that had become their savior. At the water's edge, he washed and
re-wet the soft brown material, filled the small metal cup from the supply pack,
and moved back to Qui-Gon's side as swiftly as his abused body would allow.
Obi-Wan cooled his master's face and neck before once again draping the
cloth across the high forehead. With his hand beneath Qui-Gon's head and neck
for support, Obi-Wan gently positioned the other man so that he could take in a
bit of the water. Holding the cup up to the unresponsive lips, he let the water
fall, drop by precious drop, into Qui-Gon's mouth.
"There, Master, isn't
that better? I know you must be thirsty." Obi-Wan could almost convince himself
that Qui-Gon was drinking and swallowing of his own accord, until he poured too
much at once and the excess ran from the corners of the Jedi master's slack
mouth. Obi-Wan shut his eyes against the all too painful reminder of their
predicament.
They had been here ten days. Ten days with only a communication device,
their lightsabers, a small utility/med pack Obi-Wan had managed to come away
with, and each other. Correction: They had been ten days here,
in this
treeless, barren area, but it had taken them three days to get this far. And it
would likely be many more before the Council could send a ship to retrieve them.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been left on the planet to speak to the
Trellisians, a xenophobic, technologically paranoid race. In an unprecedented
move, the Trellisian co-leaders had contacted the Council, seeking Jedi
intervention as another race threatened to overtake their lands. The Council had
agreed, cautiously, and had assigned Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to the task. Qui-Gon
had insisted they be allowed to take their lightsabers, hidden carefully in the
folds of their robes, and Yoda had insisted they carry a communications device.
Obi-Wan used the sleeve of his tunic to gently wipe away the spilled
water. "See Master? No harm done," he said, as much to reassure himself as to
keep up the one-sided conversation he'd begun some days ago. No harm, indeed, he
thought ironically. In reality, there had been plenty of harm done.
Upon reaching the outskirts of Trellis, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had felt a
darkness. Not the Dark Side necessarily, but some quality that left them
bristling with unease, nonetheless. Entering the city, they had been immediately
surrounded by Trellisian troops, looked upon as dangerous intruders rather than
the peacekeepers they had been summoned as.
There had been too many for
two Jedi to fight against and the army had been brutal, to say the least. They
fought with spear-like weapons and some sort of chemical/energy spheres the Jedi
had never come across. Upon impact, the spheres broke open, sending up yellow
clouds of dust. After the first one had shattered against the front of Qui-Gon's
robes, they had taken care to breathe the clean air while they could and to
fight while trying not to inhale the chemical.
Before they had been
literally beaten and run out of town, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had heard enough to
know that Trellis's co-leaders had not thought to tell the inhabitants of their
coming. More than likely they had thought it unwise to stir up trouble any
sooner than necessary. But the plan had worked against them, as the angry,
paranoid people had forced the Jedi, and thus their one hope for assistance
against the neighboring threat, away.
As they covered the terrain back
to their rendezvous point, Obi-Wan silently cursed the Trellisian's paranoid
culture. Because of the technology ban, the pilot had been forced to land their
ship far outside the city itself, leaving the Jedi with several days of walking
to do.
Their injuries were not severe, but several kilometers from the
city it had been necessary for them to stop and dress their wounds. Of their
supplies, they'd only managed to come away with one utility/med pack. Everything
else they'd carried had been lost or taken in the scuffle. And the contents of
the kit would barely be enough to last the three day trip back to their
rendezvous site.
Sitting on the hard ground, wrapping his bruised and
bloody knuckles, Obi-Wan's attention had shifted to his master. Kneeling in the
sand, calmly cleaning a cut on his forearm, Qui-Gon was nearly gasping for
breath. Their journey had been fast-paced, but not overly so, and certainly not
taxing for one trained as a Jedi.
"Master? Are you okay?"
"...fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon had tried to assure him. "Just a
bit...winded from the battle...and the walk."
"Master..."
Qui-Gon knew when his apprentice would settle for nothing less than the
truth. He smiled sadly at his padawan's persistence. "I think it was the
chemical weapons they used, Obi-Wan. I can still feel the remnants of the dust
in my lungs, and it is making breathing a challenge."
The picture of the
yellow sphere exploding against Qui-Gon's chest flashed through Obi-Wan's mind.
They had both been around the dust, but Qui-Gon had taken the full brunt of one
of the weapons. They had to get back to the rendezvous site.
They had made it, Obi-Wan thought, but Qui-Gon had not weathered the
trip away from the city well. He had been weak and had only grown weaker, in
need of rest and more medical care than Obi-Wan could provide. More than that,
the Force-net Obi-Wan had built around the Jedi master to keep him upright and
mobile had severely depleted his own waning energy.
As soon as they had
cleared the Trellis border, Obi-Wan had contacted the Council only to find that
no transport was available to retrieve them. Insane with the heat and concern
for his master's life, Obi-Wan had snapped. To hells with the Force or the
disciplines of being a perfect apprentice! To hells with regulations and
correctness and keeping one's place! It hurt! He hurt. And for
once he
wasn't going to cover up his feelings with Jedi pride or stoicism.
Even
a ship ready for immediate departure would still be two and a half days away and
it was clear from Master Windu's words that such a ship was not available. The
situation was frustrating beyond belief. Qui-Gon's health was failing and
Obi-Wan was powerless to prevent it.
His outburst had been witnessed, if
not acknowledged, with a furrowed brow and a bland look. After which Master
Windu had firmly assured Obi-Wan that a ship would be sent as soon as possible
to retrieve them. Bitterly, Obi-Wan decided it was an easy thing for the master
to say. He wasn't here, in this place, standing helplessly over the body of
Qui-Gon Jinn.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was dry and broken as he came
around.
Obi-Wan tucked the commlink into his tunic and moved to his
master's side. "Master?" Kneeling down, Obi-Wan tenderly cupped Qui-Gon's cheek
in the palm of his hand, watching blue eyes slide closed at the touch. He was so
vulnerable it made Obi-Wan's heart ache. It would be best for him not to know of
the conversation that had just taken place.
"Mace?" Qui-Gon's eyes
remained closed as the question was whispered.
So he had heard. Or at
the very least he had heard the voice of his closest friend. Maybe he could
still be saved from knowing the full truth.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said,
answering his master's question simply.
"Coming... for us...?"
"Master, you need to rest," Obi-Wan told him, attempting to avoid the
inevitable. "If you move onto your side I could rub your back for you. I know
you..."
"Obi-Wan..."
Obi-Wan stopped mid-sentence.
Qui-Gon took in a painful breath. "Truth..." he wheezed.
There
was no avoiding it, then. "They are sending someone,
Master." It was
Obi-Wan's turn to draw in a deep breath. "But...it may be some time. There has
been an emergency which requires all available ships to be on Coruscant."
When Qui-Gon didn't answer, Obi-Wan selfishly hoped that he had fallen
asleep.
"...sorry..." The response, when it came, was said so quietly
Obi-Wan almost missed it.
Obi-Wan blinked. "You're sorry, Master?
For what?"
"...sorry...to leave...you..."
Obi-Wan's heart leapt
into his throat and tears stung his eyes. "Master! You are not going to d..."
Qui-Gon raised a weak arm. "...to leave you...alone to deal...with me. I
am afraid I...will be of no help. You will be...alone...until they...come for
us. I can feel..." A fit of coughing overtook him, and Qui-Gon curled in on
himself, attempting to stop the painful convulsions.
"Master! Breathe!"
Obi-Wan held the man as he fought desperately against the alien chemical taking
over his lungs and body. In his grasp, Qui-Gon gasped, face gray, lips blue from
the lack of oxygen.
It had been the first of many such episodes. It was nerve-wracking and
Obi-Wan was feeling the effects sharply. With no food, little water and no
energy to meditate, he could feel himself weakening. Black spots swam through
his vision when his eyes were open, black clouds of doubt crowded his brain the
moment his eyes were closed.
And try as he might, Obi-Wan couldn't bring
Qui-Gon to consciousness. The most he got were a few mumbled words now and then,
as his master spoke out in delirium, but nothing intelligible.
Obi-Wan yawned and rubbed a hand over tired eyes. This marked the
fifteenth day and the burden of mere survival lay heavy on his young shoulders.
The nights here were cold and he hadn't slept much or eaten anything since
leaving Trellis. But Qui-Gon's well-being depended on him being awake and alert.
And so he would be.
/Master?/ Obi-Wan attempted the most basic of
communications. /Master, can you hear me?/
/ ~ /
If he'd had to
categorize Qui-Gon's response, Obi-Wan would have called it white noise. It was
something, but hardly more than static where mind talk was
concerned.
More like an echo of what Qui-Gon's brain heard, processed, and sent back in
Obi-Wan's direction.
In other words, there was very little hope that
Qui-Gon knew himself anymore, let alone Obi-Wan. Grief welled inside him and
Obi-Wan would have sobbed if he'd had the strength left to do so.
Laying Qui-Gon's head in his lap, Obi-Wan made another attempt at
feeding water to the unconscious man. One drop. Two. Every drop was a small
victory. Six. Eight. Qui-Gon began to gurgle and choke on the amount of water
that would barely have sustained a small bird.
Quickly lifting the wide
shoulders higher, Obi-Wan's hand deftly traced soothing circles over Qui-Gon's
back. His heart clenched painfully beneath his ribs as he Force-calmed his
nerves and his voice. The coughing attacks, more and more frequent with every
passing hour, were wreaking havoc on Obi-Wan's already frayed nerves. "It's all
right, Master," he whispered into Qui-Gon's ear. "You'll be fine. Just relax and
let it go."
Qui-Gon's body shook violently, a combination of the
misdirected water and the toxin in his system, and Obi-Wan feared he would
injure himself internally if the coughing didn't stop soon. He heard Qui-Gon's
teeth rattling, saw the trail of blood leaking from his master's mouth that
meant a bitten tongue...or worse. Settling Qui-Gon's head back against his
chest, Obi-Wan placed a hand on either side of the flushed face, concentrating.
Centering himself, Obi-Wan focussed on the body before him. The Force
tendrils he sent out coiled smoothly around painfully contracting lungs,
pounding heart, ravaged throat muscles. The fit of coughing lessened and
eventually ceased. The tendrils, still curled throughout Qui-Gon's abused body,
continued to smooth out the wrinkles of agony, until the Jedi master's form lay
limp and still in Obi-Wan's arms. His breathing was still loud in his chest, but
it was there.
"Hold on, Master, for just a while longer," Obi-Wan said
into the emptiness. "Master Windu will send someone for us soon." Silently he
added, I hope.
Days went by. Huddled under the cloak-blanket, Obi-Wan shivered.
Instinctively, he moved closer to his master, tightening his hold on the
unconscious man. For Obi-Wan, reality seemed to fade a bit with each passing
hour, but he knew that, above all, Qui-Gon must be protected. To lose his master
now would be to lose himself and Obi-Wan would fight tooth and nail against both
for as long as he was physically and mentally able.
Having Qui-Gon near
him, where he could listen to the beat of his heart and the soft sound of his
breathing soothed Obi-Wan's soul. But he was still cold. Teeth chattering,
Obi-Wan tried to think of something to take his mind off the long, empty night.
He knew sleep would not come to him; he couldn't allow himself that escape
anymore. It was for the best, he knew. Obi-Wan's falling asleep could mean the
difference between life and death for Qui-Gon. The shudder that passed through
Obi-Wan then was not from the hollow chill of the night.
Some time
later, when his commlink activated, exhaustion and numbness prevented Obi-Wan's
brain from even processing the sound. Drifting between thoughts of the past and
his constant monitoring of Qui-Gon, it was several minutes before Obi-Wan
recognized the signal for what it was.
"Hello? Padawan Kenobi?"
Sluggishly, Obi-Wan shifted stone-cold limbs until he was able to sit
up. He fumbled clumsily for the communications device, icy hands refusing to
cooperate.
"Padawan Kenobi? Are you there? Please signal if you are
receiving this transmission."
Frustrated, Obi-Wan finally managed to get
his fingers around the link, only to have it fall from his frozen fingers and
roll away into the dark. The curses that accompanied his search for the missing
device would have made a Tusken Raider blush. Finally, he located the link and,
with two hands, managed to press the 'receive' button.
"Ah, Padawan,
thank the Force. We were beginning to worry."
Obi-Wan didn't answer,
heart racing, throat too tight to speak. Were they to be rescued at last?
Silently, he waited for the voice on the other end to continue.
"In any
case," the man began again. "I am pilot T'Nai Nagursu and we are en route to
your position. We came as quickly as we were able."
Twenty-two days
is QUICK? Obi-Wan thought explosively. Hardly. But still he held his
tongue.
"We understand that you have need of a medic," the pilot said.
This time Obi-Wan did not hesitate. "Master Jinn's health is in serious
jeopardy. He needs immediate medical attention." He swallowed convulsively, dry
mouth and dryer throat refusing to cooperate.
There was a slight pause,
as if the man were consulting with others aboard the vessel. "And you, Padawan?
How is your health?"
Obi-Wan shook his head in refusal, even though the
pilot could not see him. "My master's fate may depend on your haste. Please
concentrate on that and hurry."
His question circumvented, the knight
pilot did not ask again. "There has been an incident with a biological weapon on
Cestus III," he explained, "which has taken most of the healers away from
Coruscant. But I am bringing Masters Yoda and Windu and I'm confident they will
be able to provide for Master Jinn's needs."
Obi-Wan felt his hard-won
focus beginning to abandon him. "Please. Hurry." he said desperately.
"Understood. ETA is fifty-eight hours. Nagursu out."
Obi-Wan
collapsed back against the hard ground. Fifty-eight hours! It might as well have
been a year. But help was on the way, and for that he had to be
grateful.
/Did you hear that, Master?/ he asked into Qui-Gon's mind. /They're
coming for us. Soon we will be rescued and you will be well again./
Tears stung Obi-Wan's eyes, warming his cheeks as they slid down his
face. Moving to lay his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, he wept in joy and
relief...and, in some small part, fear of what the next two and a half days
would bring.
With morning came the ever-relentless sun, forcing Obi-Wan to fashion
the cloaks into a crude shade-fly as he did every morning. The protection wasn't
much, but what little sun block it did provide meant less exposure to the
elements for Qui-Gon. In his condition, he could ill-afford sunstroke or further
dehydration. It was of no concern to Obi-Wan that the makeshift tent provided
shade for only one of them. It was not himself he was worried about.
After a slow walk to the river bed to soak himself and the clothes he
wore in hopes that his day in the blazing heat would be bearable, Obi-Wan wet
the washcloth, filled the tin cup and moved unsteadily back to Qui-Gon.
Fifty-two hours more, if all went as planned. As he cooled his master's
face and force-fed him the water, Obi-Wan's mind wandered backward in time. Back
to his first days as Qui-Gon's padawan...back to his first mission with Qui-Gon,
before Qui-Gon was his master...back to his earliest memories in the creche,
when he was a toddler not more than three years old.
Setting the empty
cup aside, Obi-Wan shifted Qui-Gon's head and shoulders until they rested in his
lap. It still allowed Qui-Gon to remain under the shade cover, but the contact
and closeness filled a need in Obi-Wan: an urgent need to know that he was doing
all he could to keep his master alive. The unforgiving sun beat down on the
padawan, blistering and peeling his fair skin, infusing his blonde hair with
strawberry highlights, but Obi-Wan showed no notice of it.
/Shall I tell
you a story, my master?/ Obi-Wan thought as he absently stroked the silvering,
tangled strands of hair in his lap. /You were always the one who told me stories
when I was troubled by nightmares or was too sick to sleep./
Obi-Wan had
loved listening to his master's deep, calming voice. He had sometimes been too
frightened or delirious to understand all the words, but the tone had never
failed to soothe jangled nerves and relax him into sleep or healing. Obi-Wan
closed his eyes, tired beyond belief. /I will have to tell them to you this way,
Master,/ he said somewhat sadly. /I fear I have no energy left to speak them
aloud./
/ /Once upon a time there was a little boy. His force-sensitivity was
discovered by two knights out on a diplomatic mission to the boy's homeworld.
With very little protesting on the part of the toddler's parents, he was taken
back with the knights to the Temple for training.
/ /At the Temple, the
little boy could feel the Force all around him. He was no longer isolated, as he
had been on his home planet. He no longer felt different or was looked upon as
an oddity simply because he was the only one aware of the influence and power of
the Force. But even though the little boy knew that those at the Temple cared
about him and would care for him, he was scared.//
/Did you know
that, Master?/ Obi-Wan thought as an aside to his story. /Did you know there was
a small, frightened child at the Temple all those years ago, who focussed on
your serene expression, your calming presence, whenever he felt sad or
overwhelmed? You were always there in the beginning. Busy with your duties, your
missions, your padawan, but always there at least in the background. And I
watched you. Even though I was only another program trainee to you, I think I
knew, even then, that we were meant to be together some day./
/ /The
little boy was smaller than most of the other children his age, gaining him a
bit of favor among the masters and thus some occasional jealousy among the
trainees. At three, he had a quick wit and a tendency to run about, expressing
his excitement and enthusiasm. His behavior and his hair, a shocking bunch of
red that never laid properly on the top, earned him the nickname 'Rooster'.
/ /As the little boy got older, he began to hold back, convincing
himself that the other trainees would always be bigger, better, faster, further
ahead than he, although the masters insisted otherwise. One day in the practice
gym, one of the more well-known masters stopped by to watch the six year olds
train.
/ /At the back of the crowd was the littlest trainee, just as
skilled as the rest of the children, but looking not a day over four and scared
of his shadow. As the class master gave instructions for the initiates to pair
off for sparring practice, the visiting master made his way over to the little
boy, bowing low and then kneeling before him.
/ /'Would you consent to
be my partner and give an old man a bit of practice?' the Jedi master asked the
little boy, ruffling his now strawberry-blond hair.
/ /The boy's eyes
went wide with astonishment and his heart nearly beat out of his small chest.
This master...Master Qui-Gon Jinn...wanted to spar with
him!
/ /'I...I...' the little boy sputtered. He didn't want to be
disrespectful to this master or the master teaching the class, but his mind was
telling him that this man could not possibly want him. He was so
small...so unimportant.
/ /Immediately, there were
large hands on
the boy's slim shoulders.
/ /'Never think that, little
one,' the
master said, as if he could read the youngster's mind. 'Judging oneself too
harshly is like judging one's opponents too liberally. Both can lead to
dangerous ends.'
/ /The initiate stood wide-eyed and mesmerized, barely
able to think.
/ /The tall master stood, rising to three times the
little boy's height. 'Now, little Tiger Eyes, let me see what you have that has
the other masters constantly talking.'
/ /The six year old's face lit
up. This master thought he had eyes like a tiger. Not funny hair or short legs
or a baby face, but tiger eyes. Now that was something to
cherish. The
little boy wrapped himself in the pet name as if it were the warmest of
blankets. And the other masters were talking about him? Him?
Suddenly,
the little boy knew where he wanted to spend his life: At the side of this giant
man./ /
/Do you remember that day, Master?/ Obi-Wan wondered. /I have
never forgotten it. It was the first time I felt like my life was worth
something. Not that I ever felt worthless, but for the first time in my life I
think I understood just what life in the Temple was all about. It wasn't about
competing with others or keeping up with the crowd; it was about doing the best
I was capable of and pushing myself to be more.
/You taught that to me,
Master. In just one class period, you taught an unsure, tiger-eyed boy more
about himself and his place in the universe then he'd learned in his six years
of life. And although we barely spoke or interacted in the years that followed,
my heart and soul sang every time you smiled in my direction or called me by
your name for me. There are many people who care for the children of Coruscant,
Master, but attachments are not encouraged much outside the padawan/master
training bonds. With you, I felt safe. Even if I hardly saw you. It wasn't like
having a father again, exactly, but it did feel a bit like being home./ /
Mentally exhausted from his reminiscing, Obi-Wan drifted off to sleep,
mind filled with warm memories, arms wrapped protectively around the man who had
changed his life forever.
Obi-Wan jerked awake. Muzzily, he wondered what had woken him. Woken
him? Guilt came crashing down around him. He had fallen asleep? With his
master's life literally in his hands? Before he could mentally curse himself
further, he felt it again: the sensation that had woken him.
Qui-Gon's
body convulsed, limbs spasming in uncontrolled reaction. When it was over, he
lay limply in Obi-Wan's arms, head lolling to one side. Until it happened again.
And again.
/Master!/ Obi-Wan cried into his Master's mind. /Focus on my
voice. Focus on me. I know you can hear me. I know you can
fight this!/
He mentally pleaded with Qui-Gon even as he moved from behind him and lowered
him to the cool night ground. Almost on contact, Qui-Gon's body convulsed in a
spasm much worse than the others. Unprotected, his head slammed into the hard
sand with an audible crack.
Laying his hands on Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan
used what little access he still had to the Force. To his dismay, the
convulsions continued, multiplying and gathering strength. Terrified that he was
seeing the horrible end to their nightmarish mission just two days before their
rescue, Obi-Wan wrapped his master in his arms instead. If Qui-Gon was to die,
he would die with the Jedi Mantra of Peace echoing in his mind.
Trembling, Obi-Wan readied himself for the mantra. He steadied his
breathing, brought his focus inward, tearing his thoughts away from the man
suffering before him. Finding and capturing his center was difficult, his
control tenuous at best, but Obi-Wan fought for it. Closing his eyes, he
pictured his master, well and whole, standing before him, looking down upon him
with eyes as clear and blue as a mountain lake.
/Force, bring peace to
this man, a faithful servant of the light. /Force, bring calm to my master in
his time of need. /Force, bring healing strength to my master in his time of
suffering.../
Surfacing from his meditation, Obi-Wan first became aware of the
oppressive heat and the prickling sensation in his blood-starved feet and legs.
Shifting his limbs with caution, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth against the pain.
Fifteen hours had passed, if his time sense still functioned properly. For
fifteen hours Obi-Wan had knelt and chanted over his master. It was no wonder he
felt exhausted.
Qui-Gon no longer convulsed in his arms...but he lived.
He had survived. Barely. Reaching out tentatively into the Force, Obi-Wan found
himself able to access it more easily than before. It hummed and swirled around
him in energizing circles. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come.
/Master?/ There was no response, but he sensed that Qui-Gon's mind had
conquered his body's urge to fight the rest it urgently needed. /Shall I
continue my story, Master?/ he asked. /I think it would help take your mind off
thoughts best ignored right now./ Curling beside his master, Obi-Wan began again
in earnest.
/ /The little boy passed from early childhood to the age when some of
his peers began making the transition from initiate to padawan learner. One by
one, he watched as creche mates and close friends were chosen from the group and
assigned to masters. And he was truly happy for those who were picked, for it
meant those trainees were moving along their life-paths towards knighthood.
/ /Perhaps it was naivete, or perhaps, as the boy's master described it
later, it was selflessness, but the boy felt no remorse or jealously as his
friends were taken as padawans. Such was the way of the Temple and all initiates
were trained to know and accept it. But one of the initiates, a
rough-around-the-edges boy named Bruck Chun, began to have doubts about
himself...and those doubts were transferred to the boy, who unknowingly fell
head first into the same well of doubt.
/ /'We're never going to
be picked as padawans,' Bruck sulked day in and day out. 'Never. We're just not
good enough. We never will be.'
/ /The boy knew that Bruck was upset and
being flippant, but his words struck a cord. Why were all the
others
being chosen ahead of him? Was there some weakness, some flaw in his training
that caused him to be passed over week after week, month after month? He was
nearly twelve now, and if he wasn't chosen within the next year he'd lose his
chance at being a Jedi forever. The thought sent a panic through the boy that he
refused to acknowledge. Flirting with darkness was something he would not allow
himself to do.
/ /The boy continued to train hard. He worked up to and
past his potential as the wise Master Jinn had encouraged him to do so many
years before. But still he remained without a master. As did Bruck./ /
On the outskirts of Trellisia, Obi-Wan drifted in and out of
consciousness. At times he could barely recall where he was or even who he was,
but he always seemed to be able to pick up the story he was spinning and weave
another chapter for the man he was almost certain was dying in his arms. The
action was becoming ingrained within him, a way of putting his memories into
words before he was unable to share them with anyone again.
/ /'Master Jinn is arriving at the Temple today, Obi-Wan!' Bruck said
some months later. His face was flushed with excitement. 'He's coming to watch
the initiates train!'
/ /It had been one of the many times the venerable
master had returned to the Temple between missions. He was not there often, and
the boy had a feeling that he was not happy when he was there. Perhaps there
were too many memories for him within the walls of the Temple. Perhaps he felt
uncomfortable among the other masters, thinking they saw him only as one who had
failed and lost an apprentice to the Dark Side. Perhaps when Master Jinn
returned to the Temple he was pressured to observe the current initiates and
urged to choose one as a padawan, even though he didn't feel ready to do so. The
thought saddened the boy. Why should the others force Master Jinn into something
he didn't wish to do? As Master Jinn's own master, Master Yoda should have had
more compassion.
/ /It was all speculation, anyway, the boy told
himself. No one knew for certain whether Master Jinn was ever really looking for
a new padawan. He did attend some of practice sessions, by choice or with
outside encouragement, but he never seemed to have the same look about him as
other masters who observed for the purpose of actively seeking padawans.
/ /When the boy didn't respond to his earlier exclamation, Bruck added,
'He's coming to watch *us*, Obi-Wan! They say he's coming to choose a new
padawan!' For a moment, the boy was almost caught up in the other's passion.
'I'm going to perform the Stone on Stone kata while he's watching. Surely he'll
be interested in an initiate who can perform such an advanced exercise.' And
without even a pause, he added, 'It's too bad you don't know that one.'
/ /For the very first time, reality crashed down on the boy, plunging
into his stomach like a transport full of rock. Reaching out tentatively, he
could feel the other's insincerity, just as surely as if it were
written
across the other initiate's forehead. He could feel that Bruck had no real
investment in his feelings or the feelings of others...only in his own. Bruck
pretended to include him in his happiness, but Obi-Wan knew now that his only
interest was himself.
/ /His discovery of Bruck's shallow intentions
gave the boy pause. If he were only interested in showing off his skills in
front of Master Jinn, there was a possibility that he was becoming desperate
enough to veer from the path which all initiates followed...a path of unity and
group interest, rather than self-promotion and self-interest...which would prove
dangerous indeed. Mentally, the boy took a step back from the other initiate.
Physically, he stood his ground.
/ /'And what of the rest of us, Bruck?'
the boy put forth quietly. 'Do you presume to put yourself above your brother
and sister initiates, where a choosing is concerned? Above the Force?' A
challenge, and yet not. 'You know as well as any of us that it is not only skill
and perseverance which leads a student to a master, but the Force as well. If a
pairing is meant to be, it will be. If the Force is not strong between a master
and a padawan, if their paths are not meant to cross, then the master and the
padawan will be lead to choose another.'
/ /The boy didn't know why he
felt the need to talk to Bruck of the choosing. All initiates, from the
pre-trainees on up, were aware of how it worked. What he didn't understand was
why Bruck seemed unaware of it...or unwilling to accept it. Even in his most
melancholy meditations, when he could not stop the thoughts of hopelessness that
filled his mind, the boy did not know near the amount of self-doubt and
desperation he felt from Bruck. It worried him.
/ /Bruck did not take
the boy's gentle reminder to heart. Instead, he lashed out. 'What would someone
as lithe and graceful as Master Jinn want with someone like you? You can
barely perform the age-group katas and you didn't master the most basic
meditations until you were six!'
/ /The words stung
the boy and
he flinched before he could stop himself. Why was Bruck saying those things?
/ /'A tall, majestic Jedi master needs a padawan who can be his equal,'
Bruck continued. 'Not someone who will sit at his feet and look up to him for
support and guidance every minute of every day. Why do you think he calls you
Tiger Eyes? Likely because you remind him of a house cat who will follow his
every beck and call. Master Jinn will see the qualities he
admires most
in a padawan in me. Who, after all, is more like Xanatos, you or me?'/
/
/It was an odd thing to say and it sent chills down the boy's spine. All of the
senior trainees knew, at least in minor detail, what had happened to Xanatos.
Why would Bruck want to be like him? The boy's thoughts tumbled round as he
pictured Master Jinn's last padawan. Xanatos was tall and slender, with a slim
build and a powerful, sleek sparring style. His eyes were like fire and ice, his
muscled arms like bands of steel. And his temper like an explosive waiting for
ignition. Was that what Bruck envisioned for himself? The boy
shivered at
the thought.
/ /Master Koth appeared suddenly from around the corner,
asking if everything was in order. Surprised at the master's presence, the two
boys nodded quickly and mutually dropped the subject. Nothing came of the
confrontation, which the boy believed would have turned physical if Bruck had
been allowed to continue his tirade./ /
/You did come to the senior
initiates' lightsaber drilling that day, Master. Do you remember it? I had
purposefully positioned myself as far away from Bruck as I could, and I knew you
felt something was wrong because I saw you glancing between the two of us all
practice. I prayed that you wouldn't be able to tell what had
begun the
rift between us.
/You left the practice before any of the trainees had a
chance to approach you and Bruck's hopes of impressing you were dashed. He was
unbearable after that, most especially to me. And the more I heard his rantings
and saw him become obsessed with wanting to impress you and to become your
padawan, the more frightened I became. Not because of what it meant for Bruck,
but for what it meant for me.
/I was close to thirteen then, Master. And
the more Bruck talked about wanting you for his master the more I realized that
I wanted you for my master. I had never tried to show off for
you, had
never even approached you as other trainees had done. I had even shied away from
you on several occasions. But suddenly there was a longing growing in my
heart...a longing I finally traced back to the day I first saw you through
three-year-old eyes...and meditation after meditation showed me that that
longing was a need to have you in my life.
/With that revealed, I did
try to approach you. I tried to convey my feelings to you. But you were as
unreachable as I'd seen you with the other trainees throughout the years. I
finally convinced myself to reject the idea that you and I were meant to be
together, but the Force seemed to have other ideas. You were in my dreams, in my
thoughts, in my meditations. And always you and I were together. Surely it was a
vision of the future.
/Later, I was to find out that Master Yoda was
having the same sort of visions. When I was sent to the Agricorps, he arranged
for you to be there as well. And although it was a long time before you would
accept me as your padawan, I knew our separate paths were destined to be one.../
Obi-Wan's chin jerked up from where it rested on his chest, forcing him
awake. Reaching up to stop the annoying tickle he felt against his cheek, his
fingertips met with a wetness tracking its way from the corner of his eye.
Brushing it away, he wondered at his body's ability to manufacture tears when
his system was already so depleted of moisture.
/Oh, Master!/ he
thought. /Please be well! You are a good person and a kind master. The Force
can't be so cruel as to take one like you out of its living ranks./ But Obi-Wan
knew, as he had told Bruck so many years before, that what the Force deemed so
was so. And if it chose to take his master from him...
The sound of a
descending ship stopped Obi-Wan's despairing thoughts. From afar he could see
sand spraying in every direction, clouds of dust churning up like a small storm
as the ship made its landing. In his arms, Qui-Gon began to gasp for breath.
/Master!/ Qui-Gon's breathing stopped. /Master!/ Obi-Wan placed his
mouth upon his master's, providing him with the oxygen his body cried out for.
/Don't give up, Master. They're here. They've finally come to take us home.
Please, Master! Breathe!/
Peripherally, Obi-Wan could hear the pounding
of feet across the hard desert sand. Most likely the masters could sense the
urgency within him and were responding to it.
As Master Windu came over
one of the dunes, brown cloak swirling the dust wildly behind him, Qui-Gon began
to cough.
/Yes, Master! That's it! Keep breathing! They're here!/
They're here, Obi-Wan thought. We made it. We survived. Bone-deep
relief made his exhaustion total and Obi-Wan collapsed into the sand, cradling
his master in his arms.
For the first time since the chemical had taken
over his body, Qui-Gon opened his eyes, meeting his padawan's fading gaze with
great effort.
"My Obi-Wan," he mouthed, and he didn't miss the joyful
look on his padawan's pale face as they both lost the battle for consciousness.
~ el fin ~
Feedback? Anything? (padawan_ana@yahoo.com)
Remember: Barring anything but a natural disaster, there will be a
companion piece to this story. It will directly follow the ending here and be
from Qui-Gon's viewpoint. And I'd like to have it done within the next month or
so...