I Will See You
by Anastasia (padawan_ana@yahoo.com)
Categories: angst, h/c, romance
Series: This is the third
piece in the 'Coming to Their Senses' series. The first piece is 'Not On Deaf
Ears,' the second is 'Bitter Taste of Fear.' There will be a fourth/final
piece in the series to follow 'I Will See You'…which will take things finally
into the realm of slash.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Q/O
Status: Complete
Archive: M_A
Spoilers: Not that I'm
aware of…except for the two stories I wrote before this one, if you haven't read
them… : ) ::points reader to the M_A site to find 'Not On Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter
Taste of Fear'::
Summary: Back on Coruscant, Qui-Gon regains
consciousness and begins to regain his health. He has a chance to take care of
his padawan as Obi-Wan took care of him on Trellis. Directly follows 'Not on
Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter Taste of Fear' in the *Coming to Their Senses* series.
Series Summary: In 'Not On Deaf Ears,' Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were stranded
on a hostile planet. Qui-Gon was injured and Obi-Wan all but destroyed his
health attempting to keep Qui-Gon alive. Obi-Wan collapsed just as Mace and Yoda
arrived to rescue them. In 'Bitter Taste of Fear,' Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were
rescued from the planet by Mace and Yoda. A guilt-ridden Mace faced his feelings
with some insight from Yoda. The four of them returned to Coruscant with Qui-Gon
and Obi-Wan in critical condition.
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: I am constantly inspired and motivated by my
story editor, Caly Rose. Thank you, Caly, for making me want to write and for
keeping me at it even when I sometimes seem to write only a sentence an hour. :
)
Thank yous: This series continues to be done under the supervision of
my editor-in-chief, Calysta Rose. Without her, this story would be one big mess
of words…and would likely not have been completed until July. : ) Thank you,
Caly!!!!!!
Thanks also: To everyone who wrote to say they enjoyed the
first two stories in this series. The responses have been just wonderful! And
thanks to Elektra, Amber Biles, Kender, and ADM for beta testing this story.
Everyone had excellent ideas and suggestions-which were used in ways that
improve the story enormously. Thank you!
Note: This story is a companion
story to 'Not on Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter Taste of Fear' and will make little
sense if you haven't read them first. They can be found on the M/A site. There
is one more story planned for this series.
Another note: italics
represent thoughts; ~ ~ represent Qui-Gon's memories; / / represent telepathy.
Qui-Gon returned to
consciousness slowly, first aware of the pain in his head and chest. Taking a
deep breath was impossible; indeed, breathing shallowly was difficult. There was
a tickle, a bothersome irritation in his lungs. He could feel...Could almost
remember...
The massive coughing attack brought him to full
consciousness and he attempted instinctively to sit up to quell the fit. The
result was agonizing. His mind went black, white stars streaking through his
brain, blocking any outside thoughts. He gasped for breath with lungs that had
forgotten how to work.
Immediately Qui-Gon was pushed back against the
pillows. Strong hands held his head immobile as a breathing-assist mask was
placed over his face by a second set of hands. Something sharp was thrust into
his chest, cold at first and then hot. He arched his back, as much from the
coughing as to escape the object that felt like it was piercing his lungs.
"Shhhhh…" a voice hushed him. "Be still. It will pass."
Qui-Gon
attempted to speak, but found he could not. His chest continued to contract
painfully; his throat felt raw.
"It's too much!" the voice said. Qui-Gon
could feel the speaker running gentle, calming hands up and down his arms. It
was soothing, he noted almost peripherally. "A Force suggestion would…"
"After three days he's finally conscious," a second voice interrupted
the first. "And I, for one, would like him to stay that way."
"But the
pain is overwhelming him! Can't you see? He's in agony…"
"Master
Windu," a third voice said. "Would you kindly allow us to do our jobs? Qui-Gon
has weathered many of these attacks, as I'm sure you recall, and he will weather
this one. Just give the injection time to start working."
"But he was
not conscious during the other attacks!" the first voice barked. "Surely
this falls under cruel and unusual…"
The argument went back and forth,
with the first voice arguing against the other two. After a time, Qui-Gon felt
the pain begin to ease a bit. Eyes still closed, he gave a small sigh to test
the tightness in his chest. It was still there, like a weight, but it was almost
bearable. And the coughing had stopped. He allowed himself several more breaths
from the oxygen-rich breathing mask before attempting to open his eyes.
Above him, Mace Windu came blurrily into focus.
"Qui-Gon, my
friend," he said softly, leaning over the medical bed. "Welcome back."
Confusion in his eyes, Qui-Gon lifted a weak arm, attempting to remove
the oxygen mask.
"You should leave it on, for now," Mace told him. "Give
your lungs a break. Sometimes they actually cooperate if the mask stays in
place."
Mace's words were met with a "Hmmph," from the two healers
Qui-Gon could now see standing at the foot of the bed. "He is determined to have
that mask off, isn't he?" one of them said. "Conscious…unconscious…"
Mace waved his hand, indicating that they should go. After one more
inspection of the various tubes and monitors, they left the two men alone, one
of them muttering, "Jedi masters, ha! Worst patients I ever saw."
Qui-Gon furrowed his brow at the remark, then refocused his attention on
his friend, eyes imploring. Mace looked him over for a full minute, relief
flowing from him in waves.
Standing up, Mace pulled a low chair over to
the bed and sat down, at an easier angle for Qui-Gon to look at him. "I'm so
glad you've come back to us," Mace said, voice rough. He laid a warm hand on top
of Qui-Gon's in gentle support.
Qui-Gon made an impatient noise which
came out more like a hum. It got Mace's attention.
"You're not going to
be able to talk for a while," Mace told Qui-Gon. "So let me do the talking. I
promise to stop if you need me to. You can blink if you understand or agree and
move your head to indicate otherwise. Fair enough?"
There was a blink.
"Do you know where you are?"
Qui-Gon's eyes moved about the
room, and he blinked. Then a panic-stricken look crossed his face which said
that although he thought he should know where he was, he didn't.
Frantically, he shook his head.
"It's okay," Mace assured him. "You're
on Coruscant, in the medical facility. You have been seriously ill. It stands to
reason there might be things you don't recall."
Mace stopped, as if
considering his words. He studied Qui-Gon silently, for so long that Qui-Gon
wondered if he would go on.
"You were on a diplomatic mission to
Trellis," Mace said finally. "Do you remember that?"
There was a pause
and then Qui-Gon blinked.
"You were not welcomed there and the
townspeople had a kind of energy weapon. The weapons were filled with a chemical
and when they exploded, the dust got into your lungs and made you very sick. You
were forced to flee the town to escape. Do you remember that?"
Qui-Gon
closed his eyes, thinking. A pained looked crossed his face, but he shook his
head.
"We knew you were in need of assistance," Mace said, sounding as
if he were forcing the words out. "But there was an emergency on Coruscant and
it was nearly twenty-five rotations before we could get to you…" He took a
breath. "You were in pretty bad shape by the time we arrived."
Qui-Gon
lifted his hand to slowly touch the mask again, then carefully placed his hand
on his chest, gasping as he hit upon the source he'd been seeking. The skin
under his hand felt bruised, and it shouldn't have. Injured lungs and chest had
nothing to do with the outside of a body.
Mace sensed the unvoiced
questions. "Your lungs were damaged almost beyond repair. For that type of
injury, bacta, of course, was out of the question, and conventional methods
weren't working for the healers, either. One of them devised a technique that
appears to be working…but the drug has to be pumped directly into the chest/lung
area." He touched Qui-Gon's hand, which was still over the bruise-blackened
area. "The injections are doing a number on your chest. But it's the only method
the healers have found success with. And the bruising will clear up when the
treatments stop."
Qui-Gon blinked and slid his hand back down to his
side, closing his eyes again. He had so many questions, and no way to ask them.
Had he done any negotiating? Were negotiations being continued by anyone else?
How had he contacted the Council from the planet if he'd been so ill? How did
Mace know so much about what had happened there? How had he survived nearly a
month on his own, injured and, as it sounded, dying? Where had his padawan been
all that…
Qui-Gon's eyes flew open as bits and pieces of remembered
thoughts and feelings began to flood his mind. How could he have forgotten? The
sand. The sun. A wet cloth being placed on his forehead. The yellow powder of
the weapons. Feeling weak. Unable to breath. Body wracked with convulsions.
Frantically, Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed Mace's hand, lifting it to
his own face. He pressed the dark hand against his temple, urging the other man
to communicate telepathically with him. He could feel Mace instinctively shy
away as his mind was bombarded by Qui-Gon's thoughts, but he pressed on,
insisting. Mace accepted.
/Obi-Wan!!/ Qui-Gon thought into Mace's mind.
/Where is Obi-Wan?/
Mace braced himself. /Calm down, Qui-Gon,/ he urged.
/Obi-Wan is…/
/WHERE?/ Qui-Gon's mind demanded. /Where IS he? Where is
Obi-Wan?/
/He is here, Qui-Gon,/ Mace tried to say calmly. /He's right
here in the…/
Something like a growl left Qui-Gon's throat. /You're
lying! I haven't seen him! Where IS he?/
/Qui-Gon!/ Mace shouted into
Qui-Gon's mind. /Stop!/ That got Qui-Gon's attention. /Now,/ Mace continued.
/Obi-Wan was on the planet with you. He kept you alive long enough for us
to arrive. He is probably the sole reason you are alive./
Qui-Gon's thoughts slowed a bit. /Is he still on the planet? Continuing
negotiations with the Trellisians? Is that why he is not here?/ 'Is that why he
is not here with me?' his mind wanted to ask.
/Qui-Gon…Obi-Wan has
sustained some injuries of his own./
/The weapons?/ Qui-Gon demanded to
know.
/No,/ Mace told him. /Not the weapons. Overexposure to the
elements. The heat, the cold, the sun. The sand constantly blowing around that
dustbowl they call a planet./
/Can I see him?/ Qui-Gon was desperate.
/Can I talk to him?/
Mace brushed a length of hair away from Qui-Gon's
face.
/Obi-Wan sustained serious skin and tissue damage from constant
exposure to the sun./ Mace began. /He was dehydrated; he had severe sun
stroke…He was close to death when we picked him up, Qui-Gon. Closer than you./
/I have to see him, Mace!/ The need surged, swelling in Qui-Gon like
rushing water building up behind a dam. /I have to see him NOW!/
/No,
Qui-Gon. You can't…/ Mace told the other man. /Please lie still…/
The
urge to go to his padawan was greater than the pain and nausea Qui-Gon felt as
he broke away from Mace's grasp and abruptly sat up. Blood pounding in his ears,
Qui-Gon swung leaden legs over the side of the bed, heedless of the tubes he was
pulling loose, oblivious to the alarms going off to warn the healers that
something was amiss.
/Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon's mind cried out. /OBI-WAN!!/
/Qui-Gon!/ Mace's voice was still in his mind, his hand back on his
temple, trying to communicate.
"NO!" Qui-Gon shouted as loudly as his
lungs would allow. Mindlessly, he struck out, knocking the hand away from his
face and knocking its owner out of the way. He tore the breathing mask from his
face and sent it bouncing off the far wall. Feet on the floor, the first time
he'd stood or walked in almost a month, he lurched toward the doorway.
/Obi-Wan!/
Three steps away from the bed, Qui-Gon's legs gave
out, sending him crashing to the floor. His breath left him in a wheeze and
suddenly he couldn't breathe. Gasping, he clutched his battered chest and
attempted to draw in air. The room began to spin.
There were hands on
him, not moving him to the bed, but laying him out on the hard floor. He coughed
uncontrollably, head banging against the floor in sickly counter-rhythm.
"Get that needle in him NOW!" one of the healers shouted.
"Where
is his oxygen mask?" the other demanded.
"I'm putting him out this
time," Mace said through gritted teeth. "And don't tell me I'm not. He can't
handle this. Not right now. It's too much."
Qui-Gon felt the tendril of
the Force invade his mind, even as he fought keep it away. He didn't want to
sleep. He didn't want the Force. He only wanted… /OBI-WAN!!!/
"He's not
breathing!"
"He's in full arrest!"
"Get another healer in here!"
The voices were loud, the panic in the room palpable. But for Qui-Gon it
all began to fade into the background. Sight…sound…all began to disappear. At
last, there was only the agony in his head and chest…and blackness. And then
there was only blackness.
When Qui-Gon awoke, he found that he could not move his arms or his
legs. Oxygen flowed again through his nose and mouth and he had to admit that
his chest did not hurt as much.
Instinctively, he looked around,
searching for Mace. Footsteps approaching from across the room told him he was
still there.
"I'm here, my friend," Mace assured him. He reached out a
hesitant hand and placed it tentatively on Qui-Gon's face. Qui-Gon blinked his
consent.
/The restraints?/ came the bitter question. /Why have I been
restrained?/ There was no mistaking the hurt in the mind voice. /Is a critically
injured man so much of a threat to you?/
/We felt it was in your best
interest, Qui-Gon,/ Mace told him. /You were injuring yourself and…/
/It
is not me you should be worrying about!/ Qui-Gon's shouted. /My
health is not important!/
The signature of Mace's mind suddenly froze.
/It is to your padawan./
/Mace?/ Qui-Gon tested the chilly waters of the
sudden change. Mace's countenance remained stony.
/Your life was
important enough for Obi-Wan to risk his life saving it. Right now your life
means everything to him,/ Mace said coldly. /Don't treat that life as if it
doesn't matter. Don't treat his sacrifice as if it doesn't matter./
The
words hit Qui-Gon like a slap across the face. He would never…he could never…
/Obi-Wan!/
Qui-Gon strained against the bonds, head thrashing
from side to side. As it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to break free,
Qui-Gon ceased his movements, panting. The pressure was building in his chest
again. Turning his thoughts inward, he concentrated on slowing his heart rate,
controlling his breathing. He had no wish to repeat what had happened earlier.
Mace's cool composure suddenly broke. /Yes, Qui-Gon!/ he urged as saw
the other man stave off the imminent attack. /Fight it. You can control
it. It no longer has to control you./
Qui-Gon fought the urge to cough;
his chest heaved in his efforts to stop the inevitable deluge. He visualized a
door and pushed against it with all his might, physically closing it on the
attack. The pressure receded a little. Qui-Gon shut the virtual door tightly and
concentrated on relaxing his chest muscles and releasing the pain. The pressure
receded further, until the attack was diverted.
Mace let out the breath
he was holding. /The Force is returning to you, my friend,/ he said with a
pleased smile. /It is speeding your healing. I can already feel it within you.
Soon you will not have need of all this…/ His hand made a sweeping motion to
include the medical equipment around and attached to Qui-Gon.
/You still
haven't told me…/ Qui-Gon began.
/What?/ Mace asked.
/…about
Obi-Wan…/ Qui-Gon finished. /Where is he? And when can I speak to him? There are
so many things I need to tell him./
/I'm afraid it will not be possible
to speak with him for a while, Qui-Gon,/ Mace said. /There have been some
complications…/
/Complications?/ Qui-Gon's hands twisted in the
restraints, feet twitched with their inability to move. /What sort of
complications?/ he demanded.
/If I tell you,/ Mace said, /I want your
word that you will be still and listen. No sith-spawned stunts like the last
time./
Qui-Gon's jaw tightened. /I'm tied down like a Niveran whore,/ he
thought darkly to Mace. /Where would I go?/
Mace blanched at the
thought, his revulsion bleeding through their mental connection. Deftly, he
undid the fastenings that bound Qui-Gon to the bed.
/Are you certain
that's allowed?/ Qui-Gon asked, only partially interested in covering the
sarcasm in his voice.
/Can I trust you?/ Mace challenged him.
Qui-Gon blinked.
/Then it's allowed,/ Mace said simply. /Now…/
Mace recapped all that he knew of Qui-Gon's mission to Trellis, based on
Obi-Wan's sparse transmissions.
/The last couple days were the hardest
on Obi-Wan, I expect,/ Mace told Qui-Gon. /Your health was poor, his health was
worsening. And I suspect that once he knew help was on the way, he relaxed his
shields a bit and was overcome by the elements much more quickly.
/And
scans taken immediately after your rescue indicate you stopped breathing for
nearly a minute prior to our arrival. Obi-Wan revived you. When we questioned
him here in the medical lab, he wouldn't tell us anything, save for the fact
that it had happened before-often, if the look in his eyes was any indication.
Something about the haunted familiarity of what we were describing, compared
with the tests we've done on you, says he'd been dealing with it on a regular
basis./
/Obi-Wan…/ Qui-Gon's mind voice was anguished. Oh, what Obi-Wan
had gone through during his incapacitation!
/When we finally got you two
back here,/ Mace continued. /Obi-Wan was too severely dehydrated and too
mentally distraught to handle the bacta. The healers sedated him the first day
and pumped him full of liquids and nutrients. And in the last two days we've
made five unsuccessful attempts to submerge him in the bacta tank./
/Did
you try sedating him while he was in the bacta tank?/ Qui-Gon asked. The
method was, after all, common.
/Yes,/ Mace said. /Enough to put a rock
garden to sleep. And he fought it. The healers think it has something to do with
the way Obi-Wan forced himself to remain conscious on the planet. His body
became accustomed to remaining awake, against its natural need for sleep, and it
doesn't understand that the situation has changed./
/A Force
suggestion?/ Qui-Gon asked.
/His mind would not yield to it,/ Mace told
him, shaking his head. /The counselor thinks Obi-Wan's body will have to be
re-taught to relax itself and follow its natural ebbs and flows. It heard only
internal commands from Obi-Wan for so long that it can't break out of that
pattern. Meanwhile…Obi-Wan has injuries only several days in a bacta tank can
heal. He's awake all the time…won't let anyone near him. We've already had two
healers injured due to his raging./ Mace rubbed a sore shoulder. /Must have
learned everything he knows from his master./
Qui-Gon had the grace to
blush at the reference before demanding, /Where is he now?/
Mace
hesitated. /He's in a private room across from the bacta tanks. The healers
wanted him close in the event that they were able to convince him to submit to
the treatments./
/I could convince him,/ Qui-Gon insisted. /I'm sure I
could calm him enough attain his cooperation. He'll listen to me./
/Qui-Gon…/
/Is there a problem with me communicating with my own
padawan?/ Qui-Gon demanded.
/Other than the fact that you were near
death just yesterday?/ Mace asked.
/But I'm not near death
today,/ Qui-Gon said. He was beginning to get angry again.
/Qui-Gon…your padawan believes you are dead./
"WHAT?" The
word was out of Qui-Gon's mouth before he consciously thought about it. The pain
in his chest that accompanied it made him gasp.
"We've tried to tell
him-believe me, we've tried," Mace said aloud. "But twenty-five days of sleep
deprivation and malnourishment do things to a person's psyche that words alone
can't fix."
The harsh reality of how far gone Obi-Wan really was
suddenly hit Qui-Gon.
/You have to let me try,/ he told Mace. /Surely
there is some way I can convince him that I am not dead. Mace, please. I
need to see him, and you want his compliance. If you let me do this, maybe we
can both get what we want./
/Qui-Gon…you always know just how to get
around the small details, don't you? You always did./ Mace sighed, removing his
hand from Qui-Gon's temple and standing up.
"I'll go talk with the
healers and see how they feel about this. Give me a couple minutes and I'll get
you an answer."
Qui-Gon was beginning to doze off when Mace re-entered the room,
hover-chair in front of him, healers behind him. He raised his eyebrows at the
sight.
"You can see Obi-Wan on two conditions," Mace told him. "First,
the healers want to work with you for a bit." At Qui-Gon's panicked look at
being kept from Obi-Wan, Mace added, "They want half an hour to help you
meditate. With the Force coming back to you, you should be able to assist them
in healing your lungs enough to give you at least soft vocal tones. Obi-Wan may
not let even you get close to him, and being able to speak to him will give you
an enormous advantage.
"Second," Mace continued. "If your voice tires or
you tire, I want you to stop. You're still weak and your injuries are
only beginning to heal. Jeopardizing your health all over again isn't going to
help you or Obi-Wan. Will you agree to our terms?"
Without
hesitation, Qui-Gon blinked. He wanted to be with Obi-Wan, no matter the cost.
Even from the corridor, the maelstrom of emotions that hit Qui-Gon as he
approached his padawan's room was almost blinding. From pain and anguish, fear
and anger, to confusion, need, and total exhaustion, Obi-Wan's emotions were a
mass of lows.
As he maneuvered the anti-grav chair awkwardly through the
doorway and into Obi-Wan's room, Qui-Gon looked back over his shoulder at Mace.
The other man was apparently going to keep his word about letting him handle
things on his own, although it appeared he was going to stay close as Qui-Gon
made the initial contact. Qui-Gon didn't know whether to feel relieved or
nervous, having another person around to witness what was about to take place.
Halfway to the bed, Qui-Gon opened the training bond he had with
Obi-Wan. All but forgotten, it had lain dormant since their time on the planet,
for obvious reasons. Now the link flared to life, and if Qui-Gon had not already
been seated, he would have fallen to his knees under the sheer rawness of the
emotion reflecting back at him.
In a blur of movement, Obi-Wan turned to
face him, almost unrecognizable in his rage. He snarled like a cornered animal,
a bed pillow clutched tightly to his chest.
"Get away from us!" he
screamed.
The angry tone made Qui-Gon flinch; the words sent fear
spiraling through his body.
/Obi-Wan?/ Qui-Gon tried through their link.
/Padawan? Can you hear me?/
Obi-Wan's eyes opened wide. "Get away! I'll
kill you with my bare hands if you come near us!" Pulling the pillow closer,
Obi-Wan rested his chin upon the top of it and seemed eerily at peace as he
whispered, "I'm here, master. I won't let anyone harm you."
Qui-Gon's
stomach lurched. Was the pillow a representation of him? If Obi-Wan was
hallucinating that badly, it was going to be difficult to draw him out.
/Obi-Wan…do you know where you are?/ When there was no response, Qui-Gon
went on. /You're safe. You're on Coruscant. There's no need to be afraid any
longer./
Qui-Gon studied his apprentice. It was shocking. The month of
suffering had left Obi-Wan looking deathly ill. His face was drawn, reddened and
scarred from the burns he had sustained on the planet. The bones in his hands
and face were starkly evident, even beneath the severe burns. He had lost untold
pounds, which he couldn't have afforded when he was healthy. Now, it made him
appear too-thin and wasted, a ragged remnant of the well-muscled,
perfectly-toned knight-in-training he had been.
With a cry of outrage,
Obi-Wan suddenly flew at Qui-Gon, hands reaching for his throat. The younger man
was faster than Qui-Gon would have expected. Attempting to subdue Obi-Wan with a
nudge of the Force, Qui-Gon found himself still too weak to do so. Unprepared,
Qui-Gon fumbled with the chair's controls, unable to move out of the way.
Feet on the floor in an instant, Obi-Wan stood up, swaying. Disoriented,
he lashed out at Qui-Gon, his swings wild and inaccurate.
/Obi-Wan,
stop!/ Qui-Gon said desperately. Someone was going to get injured, he thought as
he attempted to defend himself, and it was probably going to be…
Qui-Gon
cried out as one of Obi-Wan's blows connected with his shoulder, tipping the
chair precariously and spinning it around. The second strike, to the side of his
head, knocked him to the floor and sent the chair scattering.
"Qui-Gon!"
Mace was at his side, lifting him into a sitting position. No! he
sent to Mace. Don't interfere. He's confused enough as it is.
This has gone too far! Mace told him. I'm going to…
Obi-Wan, who had frozen at the sound of Mace's voice, suddenly collapsed
to the floor at Qui-Gon's feet, unconscious.
Mace, please,
Qui-Gon pleaded. This is my chance to get through to him.
With a
quick once-over of Qui-Gon's temple, to inspect the purpling bruise there, Mace
retreated to the corridor once again.
Coming to, Obi-Wan moaned softly.
"Obi-Wan." It was the first time Qui-Gon had used his newly-recovered
voice, and it sounded weak and gravelly in his ears. It got Obi-Wan's attention.
Obi-Wan picked up his head, eyes darting from side to side as if
searching for the speaker.
"Obi-Wan."
"Who's there?" Obi-Wan
asked suspiciously. The fight seemed to be gone from him, but he was still on
high alert. His hands reached out, searching, and his tension heightened as he
failed to find what he sought.
/Padawan, can you hear me? Here in your
mind?/
Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly connected with his.
/Yes,
Padawan,/ Qui-Gon said. /Yes, inside your head. It's our link. You can still
hear me./ Relief washed through him. He had been afraid their bond had been
somehow damaged with the trauma they'd both suffered.
Obi-Wan's look
grew blank again, as if he were thinking…or remembering.
"Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon quietly tried again. The first time it had gotten Obi-Wan's attention.
Ducking his head almost as if he were afraid, Obi-Wan said quietly, "Who
are you?"
Qui-Gon took a breath. If Obi-Wan thought him dead, how would
he react to Qui-Gon's admission? On the other hand, if the earlier image of
Obi-Wan clinging to the pillow was any indication, he still believed, somewhere
in his mind, that Qui-Gon lived.
"This is Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
said softly. It hurt to speak, but it was much more effective than using their
bond. The bond only seemed to spook Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan flinched at the
words, shaking his head fiercely. "No…" he mumbled. "No…no…no…"
"Obi-Wan, I am here," Qui-Gon said, trying to put more force
behind the words. With his limited range, it was almost impossible. "I'm here
and I'm fine, Obi-Wan. There is no need for further worry. You can rest now. I'm
safe and I'm here with you. You saved my life."
Obi-Wan's eyes were wild
as he looked at Qui-Gon. His tortured breathing was audible in the small room.
"M…Ma…" Obi-Wan seemed incapable of forming the word. Hands twisted
unconsciously in the fabric of his sleep shirt.
"Yes, Padawan," Qui-Gon
encouraged with relief. "You're remembering. No one is going to hurt you. You're
safe on Coruscant. Safe with me." Qui-Gon swallowed, already feeling the strain
in his lungs and chest. He longed to take Obi-Wan in his arms, wrap him in a
tight embrace. Assure him that nothing was wrong. But Obi-Wan had to first
accept the truth of his words.
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. His expression
filled with the uncertainty of a confused young man who didn't know who or what
he could trust anymore, including the ideas of his own mind. Sun-scarred
knuckles turned white as Obi-Wan clutched at his tunic. Qui-Gon heard the fabric
rip.
"Pad…" Obi-Wan said, almost to himself. "Padaw…no. Mast…no!"
Obi-Wan's braid whipped back and forth as he shook his head, unable-or
unwilling-to process what Qui-Gon was saying.
"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
countered. "Believe it. You can believe it. We have survived, master and
padawan."
Obi-Wan went several shades paler. "No," he said in a small
voice. "My m…m…mast…er is. Dead." His eyes went as expressionless as his voice
as he said the words. "I should be dead."
Grief overwhelmed Qui-Gon. The
sight of his broken padawan was far too much to bear.
"Obi-Wan, no." Too
weak to stand, Qui-Gon covered the space separating them on his hands and knees,
Jedi ego be damned. And then Qui-Gon was enfolding Obi-Wan in his arms, trying
to convince himself that his padawan would not snap in two, even though he felt
as fragile as dry kindling. Obi-Wan was light-perhaps twenty kilos lighter than
before their mission-and the idea of how he'd come to this made Qui-Gon want to
wretch.
For several long minutes, Obi-Wan twitched in Qui-Gon's grasp,
babbling incoherently about the transport that was coming to get them and the
Trellisian weapons. Qui-Gon found himself whispering soothingly to his padawan
to calm him, as he had done long ago when his apprentice had been fevered or
dreaming.
"Shhhhh, Obi-Wan," he murmured, gently combing his fingers
through his padawan's feathery hair. "Everything is fine now. There is no need
for worry."
"He is dead," Obi-Wan said in a slurred voice. "I killed
him."
Qui-Gon couldn't stop the gasp of horror that escaped his lips.
"No, Obi-Wan, you killed no one!"
"He is dead," Obi-Wan said tearfully.
"Dead because I didn't have the strength left to keep him alive. I was weak. He
was right about not wanting to take me as his padawan. I don't deserve to be
anyone's apprentice."
"Obi-Wan, stop this!" Qui-Gon said with growing
dismay. He could hardly bear his padawan's ravings.
"I should be dead in
his place," Obi-Wan mumbled, thrashing against Qui-Gon's hold. "He never hurt
anyone…never disappointed anyone…in his entire life. He didn't deserve the death
I sentenced him to. He deserved someone better than me to watch his back and
protect him when he couldn't do it himself."
Obi-Wan's voice had faded
to almost inaudible tones and Qui-Gon had to lean close to hear him. "If I could
just…just…" The tears continued to flow.
"What, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon heard
himself saying. "If you could just what?"
"Just..end it all…I'm no one's
padawan now. They will blame me for his death. And they will be right…but I
can't live with that."
Qui-Gon's heart thudded in his chest as he
listened to his padawan's ramblings. Never had Obi-Wan talked this way-thought
this way!
"Better to return to the Force than face the Council's
disappointment and judgment. I deserve it, but I'm too tired to survive it.
Easier to do it this way." And from one instant to the next, Obi-Wan's
life-force dropped to almost nothing. He was willing himself to die.
The
panic that had been building in Qui-Gon's chest exploded, making it hard to draw
in air. The scream that had been building in his throat was torn from him in one
word. "Noooooo!!"
When Mace ran to his side this time, Qui-Gon didn't
protest. Together he and Mace laid hands on Obi-Wan, grasping at the small bit
of life and Force that still remained with the younger man and tethering him to
the world of the living. Obi-Wan was strong and stubborn, but he was no match
for two equally determined old Jedi masters. Slowly, they pulled Obi-Wan back to
them.
"Obi-Wan." The name was a dry whisper on Qui-Gon's lips. "Obi-Wan, wake
up." The young man in Qui-Gon's arms showed no sign of coming around.
/Obi-Wan…it's time to wake up,/ Qui-Gon said into his apprentice's mind.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan stiffened, head and neck snapping forward and back, eyes wide
open.
"Easy, Obi-Wan!" Caught off-guard, Qui-Gon nearly lost his grip on
his padawan. He tightened his hold and the apprentice whimpered. "You are well
and safe," Qui-Gon said, swallowing convulsively against the fear that had risen
in his chest. "Be at ease."
Obi-Wan's muscles tensed again, and he
twisted in Qui-Gon's arms, but he made no attempt to get away. "M…master?"
Qui-Gon's heart leapt. /Yes, Obi-Wan. I'm here./
Obi-Wan looked
at him then, greenish eyes sadly bright against the burns and scars marring the
young face. A shaky hand slowly reached up to touch Qui-Gon's face. Gently it
traced a line down his cheek to his beard. "You are alive?" Obi-Wan asked in
awe. "You did not die on the planet?"
Qui-Gon's vision swam. /I am
alive, my Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon assured him, carefully placing his own hand atop his
padawan's. /You risked your life to save me. And for that I will be always
grateful./ Qui-Gon's thumb absently traced circles over the reddened, blistered
fingers and knuckles.
"No, Master," Obi-Wan said weakly. He turned his
head away from Qui-Gon, effectively breaking contact with him. "I have…failed
you, Master," Obi-Wan said, closing his eyes.
Qui-Gon was almost
speechless. /Failed? Obi-Wan, why do you say that?/
"You were so close…"
Obi-Wan shuddered. "So close to death. I should never have allowed that to
happen. It is a padawan's duty to…"
It was Qui-Gon's turn to shiver.
"Obi-Wan, no," he said aloud, a bit harsher than he'd intended. He allowed his
voice to soften. "Never think that," he said softly. "You saved me. And
you put yourself at great risk to do so. If anything, it is I who have failed
you."
In an instant, Obi-Wan's eyes were on Qui-Gon, his mouth agape.
"Master? You haven't… You would never…"
/Didn't I, Obi-Wan?/
Qui-Gon challenged. /I am your master. It is my duty to protect you. And
unconscious and dying on the planet I didn't exactly live up to the Council's
expectations, did I?/
Obi-Wan's eyes were wide. "The Council…? But it
wasn't your fault, Master. The circumstances were beyond your control. You can't
be blamed for something you had no control over!"
/But you can./
Qui-Gon's question came out like a statement. It hung heavily in the air as
Obi-Wan slowly thought it over.
"I…" Obi-Wan began.
Qui-Gon
smiled gently. /It seems, Padawan, that we have reached an impasse. You are
feeling guilty for what you see as your neglect of me. And I am feeling guilty
over leaving you alone to deal with a situation far beyond what anyone your age
and training should be forced to endure. Perhaps it would be best for both of us
to mutually forgive one another and ourselves and to meditate on the acceptance
of things which are beyond our control. Only in that way will we be able to move
forward, beyond what has happened./
Inwardly, Qui-Gon sighed. A lesson
amidst all of this? Even as he and Obi-Wan discussed life and death and the
blame therein, he was ever the Jedi master, instructing and guiding the young
apprentice. He sighed again, this time aloud.
"Master?" Obi-Wan looked
at him almost shyly now.
/I was just thinking of how proud you make me,
Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon told him. /And how lucky I am to have a padawan as selfless
and loving as you./ He watched as Obi-Wan blushed furiously.
"Master…"
/Time to meditate, my padawan,/ Qui-Gon said, taking the pressure off
Obi-Wan. /To heal our souls. And then time for you in the bacta tank, to heal
your body./
Feeling himself pulled more tightly into his master's arms,
Obi-Wan allowed his head to loll back against Qui-Gon's chest. "I love you,
Master," he said, eyes closing as he allowed himself to drift into meditation.
Surfacing from their meditation, both men felt more at peace than they
had for many weeks.
/I'm ready now, Master,/ Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon,
although he could not suppress a shudder. Part of their meditation had included
reflections on Obi-Wan's fight with the healers over the bacta, and Qui-Gon knew
his padawan had accepted his need for assistance.
/I am proud of you, my
Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon told him, having not missed the tremor running through his
apprentice. Although he had accepted it, there was a part of Obi-Wan that was
still not convinced of Qui-Gon's well-being; the irrational belief that he
needed to protect Qui-Gon to the exclusion of all else clung to his psyche, all
but tattooed on his mind. /I am well, Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon assured him,
touching his cheek lightly. /You have seen it. Now it is time for you to be made
well./
Ever the faithful padawan, Obi-Wan swallowed against his
perceived demons and allowed Qui-Gon to summon Master Windu and the healers.
"No!! NOO!!!"
Outside the bacta tank, Qui-Gon watched with
growing horror as Obi-Wan fought the healers' most recent attempt to submerge
him in the red gel. Just as before, Obi-Wan began to gasp, hyperventilating.
"Remove him!" Qui-Gon ordered the healers surrounding the tank. "Get him
out of there, now!" The sight of his padawan's suffering had become more than he
could endure.
"Qui-Gon." Mace was at his side, hand on the back of the
anti-grav chair that continued to support Qui-Gon. "Please..."
Qui-Gon
swiveled the chair to face the other Jedi. "I will not allow Obi-Wan to be hurt
further!" Qui-Gon grated.
"They're not hurting him, Qui-Gon," Mace
insisted. "They're trying to help him."
In the tank, Obi-Wan's
body jerked like a puppet on a string. "Noooo! I won't! M...master!" His eyes
rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness.
"By causing him
severe mental anxiety?" Qui-Gon was outraged. "It may not be physical, but it is
still suffering. I want him out of there--now!"
"Qui-Gon, listen to me,"
Mace said. "This is our chance. Obi-Wan is unconscious. He'll slip easily into
the healing mode now. Let the healers flood the tank with something to relax
Obi-Wan, to ensure..."
"No!" Qui-Gon throat did not react well to the
shout. He was forced to swallow and lower his voice. "No drugs. I will not have
Obi-Wan forced into this. He has had enough decision-making taken out of his
hands recently. I will not be party to more of it."
"But this is our
fourth attempt today!" Mace shot back. "How long do you intend to go on like
this?"
"For as long as it takes," Qui-Gon said simply. "As long as it
takes Obi-Wan to understand that I am here for him, that he is safe, and that he
can submit to the treatment of his own accord. No drugs. No Force."
"Just a calm acceptance..." Mace said, in obvious disbelief. "Trust you
to be unconventional even in something as conventional as bacta healing." He
sighed.
"This is important, Mace," Qui-Gon said quietly, willing his
friend to understand.
"To whom?" Mace wondered.
"To both of us,"
Qui-Gon answered. "The time we spent on the planet changed things, Mace. I can
feel it, now more than ever. Even the nature of our master/padawan bond is
different."
Mace blinked. "How so?" he asked curiously.
Qui-Gon
thought for a moment, still trying to puzzle things through himself. "Obi-Wan is
more independent that ever before," he said finally. "But at the same time, he
is more dependent on me than he has been in years. It is the nature of what
happened on the mission, I think. Obi-Wan is locked into a mind-set which is
telling him that although he has reached a new plateau of mental maturity, he
must continue to rely on me, protect me." Qui-Gon swallowed against the growing
dryness in his throat.
"As you have said, his psyche has endured things
which words alone cannot fix. Obi-Wan must begin to experience his new-found
independence and it must begin here. If I, or anyone else, make this decision
for him, we may very well permanently brand Obi-Wan with mental uncertainties he
will carry with him for the rest of his life."
Mace sighed, obviously
trapped. He would not argue against another master in something like this,
Qui-Gon knew. Especially where a training bond was concerned. He had won, at
least in this.
In the tank, Obi-Wan came to consciousness and began to
flail helplessly. His mouth opened in a wide 'o' as if he were preparing to
scream again. Mace glanced toward the padawan and looked quickly away, eyes
meeting Qui-Gon's in understanding. He motioned to the healers.
"Remove
Obi-Wan from the tank," he ordered them. "His master will attend him."
Obi-Wan gasped for air, like a fish taken from the water. He had been
removed from the tank so many times today, Qui-Gon thought, it was no wonder his
apprentice felt that way.
Slippery and wet from the healing gel, Obi-Wan
was difficult to hold on to. Abandoned by the healers, who no doubt felt their
time had been wasted, Qui-Gon was on his own as he attempted to wrap Obi-Wan
snugly inside the folds of his robe-not an easy task when one had no great
mobility of one's own. At last, he had Obi-Wan secured and in his lap, held
tightly to his chest as he'd done when his padawan was but a small child. It had
always given Obi-Wan great comfort.
As Qui-Gon gently stroked the side
of Obi-Wan's face, the apprentice calmed. His ragged breathing slowed and evened
out.
/Give in,/ Qui-Gon whispered into Obi-Wan's mind. /Give in to the
calm, Obi-Wan. You can relax now. You are safe. I am here./ How many times had
he said these things? Qui-Gon felt as if it were programmed into him. /I want
you to heal, Obi-Wan,/ he said, as his hand came to rest on the young man's
cheekbone. He traced it tenderly with a callused thumb. /I want you to be well./
Bowing his head, Qui-Gon rested his chin atop the wet spikes of
Obi-Wan's hair. Suddenly, he was reminded of something he had not even realized
was in his memory. The planet. His body convulsing as if it would break. Obi-Wan
holding him. The Mantra of Peace. Oddly strengthened by the picture that flashed
into his mind, Qui-Gon began the mind chant.
/Force, bring peace to this
young man, a faithful servant of the light.
Force, bring calm to my
apprentice in his time of need.
Force, bring healing strength to my padawan
in his time of suffering.
Force, bring understanding to Obi-Wan and make him
know that he is a cherished, beloved part of my life, and in the lives of all
the others here at the Temple…/
"How is he?" Mace stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan's room looking down at
Qui-Gon with concern. From his place on the floor, Qui-Gon spared a glance
upward before returning his attention to his padawan.
"He has calmed,"
Qui-Gon said quietly. "And fallen asleep. I don't know what he will do when he
awakens."
Mace cleared his throat nervously. "Qui-Gon…"
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and he gave Mace a hard stare. "Mace, whatever
it is, just say it."
Mace had the grace to blush. "The healers have sent
me to tell you this is the last attempt they will allow you to make. If you
cannot find a way to get Obi-Wan into bacta tank, then they will-even if they
have to sedate him."
"Even if it causes him harm?"
"Qui-Gon…pulling Obi-Wan in and out of the bacta could be causing him
harm. You know there have been cases where bacta has become less effective or
even failed to work on patients that were removed during treatment."
"I
cannot believe they would force my hand like this," Qui-Gon growled.
"They only have Obi-Wan's best interests in mind, Qui-Gon," Mace said.
"They…"
"Just as you do," Mace continued. "But now we're down to
what will be less medically damaging for Obi-Wan. Surely you can understand
that."
Qui-Gon ran his hand through Obi-Wan's drying hair, torn between
the truth of Mace's words and his almost overwhelming need to take care of
Obi-Wan's troubles himself.
"Very well," Qui-Gon said sadly. "Allow me
some time alone with him and then I will turn him over to you."
As Mace
nodded and turned to walk away, Obi-Wan's eyes opened. Blinking as if to focus,
his eyes met Qui-Gon's. Seemingly too exhausted for words, Qui-Gon felt his
padawan probing his thoughts. He bared them all to Obi-Wan, letting him sense
everything he felt. For a moment, Qui-Gon's sadness was reflected in Obi-Wan's
eyes.
/I am ready, my master,/ Obi-Wan thought to Qui-Gon. /If you will
be here with me, I am ready./
Pride for his padawan flooded Qui-Gon's
every cell. /Always, Obi-Wan,/ he assured the young man cradled in his lap. /I
will always be here with you./
Out in the corridor, Qui-Gon heard Mace
signal the healers. As they came to remove Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon allowed Mace to help
him back into the grav-chair and escort him to the tank.
As his
apprentice was lowered into the bacta once again, Qui-Gon turned his
concentration to Obi-Wan, gently talking him through the fear that threatened
his hard-fought calm. As the young man finally relaxed and allowed the bacta to
do its work, Qui-Gon knew the only thought in Obi-Wan's mind was the sound of
his master's soft voice.
"How long has it been?" Qui-Gon asked Mace, accepting the sandwich
offered to him by the other man. He was hungrier than he was willing to admit.
"Obi-Wan has been submerged forty-five hours," Mace answered. He had
pulled up a chair next to Qui-Gon and sat taking a bite from his own sandwich
and looking into the bacta tank. "Will you please take a break, Qui-Gon? I could
stay right here and notify you immediately if anything should change."
"Should he still be unconscious?" Qui-Gon continued as if Mace had not
spoken.
"Qui-Gon, you know that sometimes a person healing in the bacta
is conscious the entire time and sometimes not conscious until the time of their
removal. Everyone reacts differently to the healing gel. I'm no healer, but I'd
guess that with Obi-Wan's injuries he will be unconscious for a longer period."
"He needs this, Qui-Gon," Mace told him, seeing the look of worry that
crossed Qui-Gon's face. "Allow his body the time it needs to adequately repair
that which a cruel and uncaring planet nearly destroyed. Once his physical
injuries are mended, then you can begin to heal the mental ones."
"Have
the healers said how much longer they believe it will be?"
"Another day,
at least," Mace said, brushing a crumb of bread from his cloak. "Maybe two. They
will know more as the time draws nearer. Shall I have them come out and speak
with you?"
Qui-Gon shook his head. "That will not be necessary. I do not
wish them to think I don't trust them to know their own jobs. I am simply
curious and anxious, as you might imagine."
Mace nodded in sympathy. "As
any good master would be," he said. "Are you sure you will not reconsider and
allow me to take you to your quarters for a short rest?" It was why he had come
to Qui-Gon in the first place.
Qui-Gon shook his head again. "I'm fine,"
he told the other Jedi. "I can doze or meditate here if need be, but this is
where I want to be when he awakens. I never again want him to experience the
empty, helpless feelings he knew on the planet." Qui-Gon's tone was pained.
"You will not always be available to him, Qui-Gon," Mace said
cautiously. "Obi-Wan must know that. It is a noble thought, but whether you are
off-planet, injured, or…" His voice dropped off, but neither man needed to hear
the word 'dead' to know what Mace meant.
"I am aware of that," Qui-Gon
said fiercely. "But I am here now and I will be here for him
now. I won't…" A sudden fit of coughing took Qui-Gon by surprise. His
eyes widened, then closed as he clutched his chest, trying not to succumb to the
pain and panic threatening to overcome him. Only Mace's hand on his shoulder, a
steady and calming presence, helped him to fight the attack.
Panting and
drained, Qui-Gon dragged several breaths into battered lungs. When he did not
begin to cough again, he allowed himself to relax a bit. Gathering his thoughts,
he prepared to continue his tirade.
"Mace…" The word was barely audible.
Gratefully, Qui-Gon accepted the tea Mace offered, but drinking it did him no
good. His throat burned and his chest felt crushed-as did his spirit.
The look in Mace's eyes was one of understanding, as he silently offered
to reopen their mind-to-mind contact. "It is all right," Mace said
gently, placing a hand at Qui-Gon's temple. /You still require time to heal.
There is nothing wrong with that./
Qui-Gon sighed. /As I was saying,/ he
said into Mace's mind, /I cannot predict when or for how long I will be able to
attend Obi-Wan or watch over him, but I do know that right now, at this moment
in time, I am able to do so. And while I am still able, I will be here
for him. Call it what you like-over-protection, duty, paranoia, whatever-I will
not leave the bacta tank until Obi-Wan does. And you may pass that along to any
of the other Council members who may feel the need to come down here and
persuade me otherwise./
Mace smiled. /Okay, you win,/ he said. /But if
you feel dizzy or short of breath or your head or chest begin to hurt again, I
want you to notify the healers immediately. Your own healing is not complete by
any stretch of the imagination. It has merely been postponed./
/I will,/
Qui-Gon assured him. /And thank you./ He took another sandwich from the plate
before Mace turned and left, taking the last one with him.
Staring through the red gelatinous substance, Qui-Gon could hardly keep
his eyes open. He was tired…exhausted, if the truth be known. Only the
picture before him, of Obi-Wan fitted with a breathing mask and all the various
tubes and monitors frightened him enough to keep him from drifting off. Obi-Wan
would have willingly died for him! The idea of a padawan-his or any other-having
to face such a decision hit Qui-Gon like a punch to the stomach.
/You
were always like that, my Obi-Wan,/ he thought to the young man in the bacta
suspension. /Always willing to give of yourself no matter what the personal
cost. I think it is what first drew me to you, what continues to draw me to you.
And it is what will make you such a fine knight…/
Qui-Gon's thoughts
drifted to a time, almost two decades earlier, when he had seen Obi-Wan in a
situation that would have put padawans years older than him to shame.
~
Qui-Gon had been on the way to noon meal, his padawan, Xanatos, at his side,
when he'd stopped to watch some of the Temple tots playing in the gardens. As
was typical, Xanatos had quickly lost interest and Qui-Gon had given him
permission to go on ahead to the food hall.
A group of the Temple's
youngest trainees sat in a circle around an overturned box, a collection of
black and gray kittens tumbling in the grass at their feet. Some of the children
were enchanted with watching the tiny animals' antics, while others of them had
the kittens in their grasp, petting, cooing, kissing them. Obi-Wan was one of
the latter.
Holding a black kitten carefully, the three-year-old lifted
the small thing until it was face to face with him. He smiled a smile brighter
than sunshine itself, melting even the stoic Jedi's heart. Qui-Gon could not
hear the words, but Obi-Wan talked to it quietly, patiently, perhaps telling it
how beautiful it was, or saying how happy he was to have it to play with this
day.
So entirely engrossed in his interactions with the animal was
Obi-Wan, that when another of the boys let out a cry of dismay, he nearly
dropped the kitten. Holding the black ball of fur more tightly, Obi-Wan wandered
over see why the other youngster was so upset. Crying as if his heart would
break, the other little boy pointed across the garden to a dense grouping of
trees.
As the other boys and girls stood and picked up the kitten each
had been playing with, it was obvious to see the boy no longer had his
companion. Apparently, it had run off into the trees, where the children knew
they were not allowed to go. One of the girls ran to tell the knight who was
supervising the youngsters in their play and he shook his head. The little boy
who'd lost the kitten cried even harder.
At the knight's suggestion, all
of the children began to look around. Maybe the kitten was still in the garden,
after all, Qui-Gon heard the knight suggest. Maybe he had simply wandered off.
Small bare feet pattered around the garden, each set of small arms still
clutching a kitten, save for the boy who had lost his.
When it appeared
as though the animal were really gone, the knight in charge called for all the
children to fall in line for noon meal. Slowly, from all corners of the garden,
the crest-fallen toddlers obeyed, carefully placing their kittens back into the
box before lining up.
Very near him, behind a tall purple bush, Qui-Gon
noticed one of the children still lingering. Obi-Wan. He was holding his small
black kitten to his cheek, kissing its head and whispering to it softly as if
telling it goodbye. Suddenly, he stepped out from behind the covering.
"Look!" he shouted to the other children. Look! I've found Jo-Bril's
kitten!"
Obi-Wan was swarmed by the other whooping, gleeful children,
Jo-Bril in the lead. He handed the kitten over to the other boy with no
hesitation, and such was the excitement in having the animal back and showing it
to the knight that no one but Qui-Gon saw the tears on Obi-Wan's cheeks. He had
sacrificed something he loved in order to make another happy.
Qui-Gon
had later described the incident to the other masters, to let them know there
was a stray kitten lost in the garden somewhere, but the kitten was never found.
It was a day Qui-Gon had never forgotten. ~
"No good you will be to young Kenobi, if take care of yourself you do
not."
In the grav-chair, Qui-Gon was startled into alertness, with no
recollection of having dozed off. His heart raced as he remembered why he was
there and his eyes flew to the tank where Obi-Wan slept peacefully.
"Healing, he is," Yoda said, walking closer to the tank and peering in.
"Allow yourself the same, you should."
Qui-Gon maneuvered the chair
forward and lowered it until he could comfortably look at the smaller master. /I
cannot leave, him, Master,/ he thought back to Yoda, his mind voice wrought with
emotion. /I will not./
Yoda gave his former padawan a sad, knowing
smile. /Know you are here, he does,/ he assured Qui-Gon. /Know that he
still will, if time away for healing you would take,/ he chastised
gently. /So worried you are that jeopardize your health you do. Appreciate this
he would not, hmmm?/
The frown on Yoda's face was one Qui-Gon knew all
too well.
"Hmmm?" Yoda asked again, aloud, when no answer was
forthcoming.
Qui-Gon stared into the tank, watching his apprentice hang,
motionless, in the red liquid. There was something so utterly innocent and
helpless about him that it made Qui-Gon's throat tighten.
/Changed, he
has,/ Yoda said, also studying the boy in the tank.
Qui-Gon turned
abruptly towards his former master.
/Surprised you are, hmmm? Noticed I
have,/ Yoda told him calmly. /Noticed, many have./
Qui-Gon looked at
Yoda in disbelief.
/Endured much, he did,/ Yoda said. /Endured and
survived, did you both. Hmmm./ Yoda turned back to the figure floating in the
healing confines of the bacta tank. /Perhaps ready for trials he is. Many who
speak this, on the Council there are./
The words shocked Qui-Gon, though
he did not fully comprehend what the older master was saying. /Are they
suggesting that Obi-Wan is ready to take his trials?/ Qui-Gon asked. /He's still
so young…/ What Qui-Gon could not tell even his own master was that he was not
prepared for his padawan to be knighted and taken from him so quickly. He had
been counting on having Obi-Wan with him for at least several more years.
/Speak for the Council I cannot. Wait we will, for what may come. Right
now, concentrate upon young padawan's health, we must. Kenobi's,/ Yoda turned
large eyes on Qui-Gon again. /And yours./ The look in Yoda's eyes effectively
ended any further questioning from Qui-Gon.
/Yes, Master,/ Qui-Gon
acknowledged. /Although I'm afraid my decision will not change. I will not leave
Obi-Wan here alone. I know there are healers here to care for him,/ Qui-Gon
anticipated Yoda's next statement. /But as his Master he is my first
responsibility and I will not abandon him./
/As abandon you, he did
not,/ Yoda said knowingly. /Always stubborn have you been./
Qui-Gon gave
the other master a small smile. /I had a good teacher./
Yoda snorted.
/Learned on your own, that was. Known for your stubbornness I will not be.
Supportive, too, you are. And nurtured young Kenobi you have. A constant source
of strength and wisdom you have been. A great knight he will be./
Qui-Gon smiled again. "I had a good teacher."
Yoda's gnarled
hand found its way to Qui-Gon's forearm. /Trust you, I do. Know your own limits
you do,/ he said. /Overprotective your old master can be./
Qui-Gon gave
Yoda a grateful look. /I know you believe I am unconcerned about my own welfare,
my master, but the truth is that I am more concerned about Obi-Wan. He has grown
into a fine young man, yes, strong in his convictions and strong with the Force.
But he is still my padawan. Did you not feel the same way in similar situations
when I was your apprentice? Would you have seen to your own needs before seeing
to mine?/
Yoda's face softened as he regarded the tall figure seated
beside him. /Never, my padawan,/ he said, emotion coloring his voice. /Grown,
the padawan has, into a fine man. See it, his master did not.
Qui-Gon
opened his mouth to protest, to assure Yoda that he knew Obi-Wan was a
fine man. The next words stilled the protest in his throat.
/Forgive me,
my padawan should./
Qui-Gon blushed.
/Leave you to your padawan,
I will,/ Yoda said. /Speak with you the Council will. When well you both are./
The old jedi's tone brooked no opposition and Qui-Gon knew they would be left
alone until Yoda felt they were healed enough to face the Council.
/Details they wish,/ Yoda continued. /Foresee the attack we did not.
Avoid it again, we must./ Feeling Qui-Gon's anxiety, Yoda added, /No hurry there
is. Heal you should. Wait the Council will./ His pronouncement made, the small
Jedi master turned and slowly walked away, leaving his former padawan to his
vigil.
Qui-Gon nodded absently in the direction of the departing figure,
his full attention already back on his healing padawan.
A knight! Now
Qui-Gon was dizzy, and it wasn't because of his illness. Obi-Wan had
already satisfactorily passed all of the other tests-mental, spiritual-and was
simply awaiting the time when Qui-Gon felt he was ready to take his physical
trials. What if, Qui-Gon thought suddenly, the Council voted to allow their time
on Trellis to count as Obi-Wan's physical trial? Then the young man could be
knighted as soon as he was well and able to attend the ceremony.
Qui-Gon
shuddered. With Obi-Wan beginning as his padawan learner so late, they had had
precious little time together-barely more than a decade. And it seemed there was
still so much for Obi-Wan to learn…so much more Qui-Gon wanted to teach him. How
could Qui-Gon bear to lose him? To lose the master/padawan bond he had become so
accustomed to?
Mentally, Qui-Gon shook himself. It was not up to him to
hold Obi-Wan back if the Force, speaking through the Council, chose to say
Obi-Wan was ready to become a Jedi knight. Whatever was to be, would be, whether
Qui-Gon was prepared for it or not. And standing in the way of the Council's
decision, should this be what they had planned, would only give Obi-Wan the
impression that he believed him unprepared, and that was not true. Truth be
told, Qui-Gon was the one who was ill-prepared for the moment.
~ "Am I to be sent back to Bandomeer, Master?"
Obi-Wan had been
fifteen and suffering from the effects of a manatu bite. With every spike in his
temperature and every bout of delirium, he had fretted more about being sent
away from Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon had stroked his wet hair and held him close
to calm him.
"No, Obi-Wan. Never. You will never go back to Bandomeer
again. Not unless we go together on a mission."
Obi-Wan had turned
glazed eyes upon Qui-Gon. "I am your padawan? Well and truly?"
Qui-Gon's
heart had nearly shattered at the vulnerability behind the questions. "Yes,
Obi-Wan. You are my padawan. Never forget that."
Obi-Wan had tossed and
turned restlessly in Qui-Gon's grasp. "Bruck said I would never be your padawan.
He said I would never be anyone's padawan."
"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon had tried
to quell Obi-Wan's rantings.
"He said that even if you made the mistake
of taking me on as padawan, you would see I was no good and return me to
Bandomeer where I belonged."
Between his anger at Obi-Wan's age-mate and
his empathy with the ill padawan in his lap, Qui-Gon found he could barely
breathe. "Oh, Obi-Wan…never…." He whispered into Obi-Wan's sandy brown hair.
A tear slid down one fevered cheek. "You wouldn't do that, would you,
Master? I am a bit clumsy and I don't always learn the exercises the very first
time you teach them to me, but I want to please you and I try so hard. For the
first time in my life, I feel as if I've found somewhere where I fit in. Please
don't send me away."
"Obi-Wan, listen to me," Qui-Gon had said, although
he wasn't sure how much his padawan was able to take in in his condition. "You
are my padawan and I am your master. Nothing is going to change that. Not
anything you do…not anything anyone says. You and I are going to be together
until the day you take the trials and become a great Jedi knight. Remember
that." ~
Obi-Wan's condition had taken a turn for the worse then, Qui-Gon
recalled, and he had never been sure his apprentice had heard what he'd said.
But the words had sparked in him the same feelings Yoda's recent conversation
had evoked. All padawans worked toward the day they would take their trials and
become knights…and all masters worked to reach a balance wherein they were
tightly bonded with their padawans for sharing and teaching, and yet somehow
able to break that bond at just the right time to let their padawans fly free.
It was always done…but it was not always easy.
As tired as he was, Qui-Gon could tell his strength was returning.
Cautiously, he stood up from the chair and stretched legs too long unused. It
felt good to be up and under his own power once again. Hands above his head, he
leaned back, rolling his head from side to side and arching his back to rid them
of the pains over three days of non-movement had caused.
"Master?"
At first, Qui-Gon thought he had imagined the sound. Straightening and
turning toward the tank, he found Obi-Wan awake and staring at him through the
bacta.
/Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon moved slowly to the front of the tank,
pressing his hands against it as if to strengthen the contact between them.
Wanting only to reach his master, Obi-Wan instinctively fought against
the restraining harness and breathing mask. Trying to calm his apprentice,
Qui-Gon was only marginally aware of the healers who flooded the room and
surrounded the tank, also talking to Obi-Wan.
/No, Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon
thought to his apprentice. /Don't fight it. All will be well./ Obi-Wan's
movements halted.
One of the healers approached Qui-Gon, data pad in
hand. He showed it to Qui-Gon.
/Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon said. /The healers
have declared you well enough to leave the bacta tank. Do you feel ready?/
/Yes, Master,/ came the immediate reply. /I wish to be out of here and
to be with you. Will they allow it?/
Qui-Gon spoke to the healer for a
moment.
/We have been given permission to retire to our quarters to
finish the rest of our healing,/ Qui-Gon told him. /I will await you in the room
across the hall. When you are cleaned up and released, we will return to
quarters together, to rest and heal. Will that be acceptable?/
/Yes,
Master,/ Obi-Wan replied, fully allowing his body to relax. /It is more than
acceptable. It is what I have desired since you fell ill on the planet./
/Then you shall have it, my Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon said. /Attend to the
healers' wishes now and I will see you when they have finished with you./
/Yes, Master,/ Obi-Wan said again, as he was lifted from the bacta and
rushed off to be warmed and dried. /I will see you./
[el fin…for
now]
Feedback? Anything? Please?
(padawan_ana@yahoo.com)
THERE WILL BE A FOURTH/FINAL PIECE TO THIS SERIES. IT *WILL* BE
SLASH.