Author's Notes: This was originally written for a snow story challenge but itturned into something else entirely.
Melting Point
The room was warm, a welcome change from the biting cold outside, but Qui-Gon Jinn hesitated in the doorway. The air was thick with the smell of many occupants, mingled with the sweet smell of perfume and the faint musty smell of spice. Qui-Gon quickly scanned the interior, taking in the décor and the inhabitants. He was no stranger to the seedier side of outer-rim space ports, and this one was no different from his previous experience. He knew a brothel when he saw one.
Behind him his young apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, shifted from one foot to another. He was not usually prone to fidgeting, but he couldn't feel his feet. They were frozen from hours of marching in the raw wind and bitter cold. He was curious about his master's hesitation and he shifted his position trying unsuccessfully to steal a glance into the room over Qui-Gon's broad shoulders.
Qui-Gon sighed, this was not his first choice of shelter, but they had been caught unprepared by the planet's unpredictable weather systems and were not equipped to spend the night outside in subzero temperatures. They were also out of money, so it appeared they were out of options. Qui-Gon sensed some hostility, defiance toward authority in general, but no real danger. He strode into the room, his apprentice close at his heals.
It was Obi-Wan's first opportunity to see the interior of the building, and he found the occupants were as fascinated in him as he was in them. He took in the details of his surroundings without appearing to show the slightest interest, a Jedi trick. The mish mash of inhabitants in the room had no such skills. They stared round eyed and open mouthed. Laughter and talk turned to whispers, then finally died out altogether.
Qui-Gon strode forward purposefully, apparently unaware of the stir their presence had caused. Jedi were not the usual custom of the place.
"C-can I help you?" The young girl behind the counter was young, younger than Obi-Wan. Her face was heavily painted making her look older, but her expressive eyes betrayed her youth. Her situation saddened Qui-Gon, but he was careful not to let his feelings show. There was nothing he could do to help and his pity would not change things. When he spoke his voice was gentle.
"There is storm approaching and we have no where to stay. We have no credits to pay for a room, but any place you can find to give us shelter would be appreciated."
"Run along Sarra," An older girl sauntered up to the counter. "And don't worry, I will take special care of our guests." She turned to the Jedi. "I am Errita, my uncle owns this establishment, and you would be?"
"I am Qui-Gon Jinn," Qui-Gon bowed formally, his manners the same for chancellors, senators, and prostitutes. "My companion is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Obi-Wan bowed as well, following his master's lead. When he looked up he found the woman eyeing him with interest. She was beautiful, long dark hair, clear skin and brilliant hard green eyes. He tried to keep his gaze steady, but he found he could not meet her openly appraising stare. He looked away confused, his face burning in embarrassment.
"No money? I'm sure we can work out payment somehow."
She laughed brazenly but after a quick look at Qui-Gon turned suddenly and walked jauntily toward the stairs. Her green silk dress clung seductively, "This way, gentlemen."
They followed her up the stairs and down a long hallway. Privacy apparently not a concern, doors on either side left carelessly open exposing the occupants inside. Obi-Wan carefully kept his eyes on his master's back. The storm outside suddenly did not seem so threatening.
Errita showed them to a tiny room at the end of the hallway. Qui-Gon bowed once again. "We thank you for your hospitality."
Errita returned the bow with a grand flourish revealing the only part of her seductive body not already exposed by her low cut dress.
Obi-Wan could hear her laughter ringing in the hallway as she returned to her other guests. He carefully shut the door.
The room was small and bare, the single piece of furniture a platform bed with a worn sleeping mat that Obi-Wan eyed dubiously. The room was unlit, the only illumination came through a dirty window. If it weren't for the full moon outside, it would be completely dark.
Qui-Gon was already kneeling in the center of the room preparing to meditate.
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, completely relaxed in any environment and wondered if he would ever acquire the ease and confidence of the Jedi master. He often found himself in situations where he did not know what he should do or say. In many ways it was easier to deal with a hostile enemy. He was never clumsy and unsure with his light saber.
Qui-Gon looked at him in amusement, reading his mind as usual. "Pay closer attention to the Living Force, Padawan. People are not always what they appear to be, look closely and you often find a different side from the one they choose to show the world."
"I try, Master." Obi-Wan came and sat cross legged on the floor beside his master. "But
sometimes it is easier to see the future than what is in a person's heart. I listen and I hear nothing."
"You are still young, Obi-Wan, and just beginning your training. You will learn. Until then, that is what I am here for. Just treat all beings with respect and you will be fine. Now come, it is time to meditate before we sleep."
"Yes, Master."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and tried to center himself, a process that despite daily habit did not always come easy. Tonight he just could not focus. His connection to the Force seemed muddled, and he just could not clear his mind of distractions. After over an hour of trying he gave up and opened his eyes.
He stole a quick look at Qui-Gon, already deep in the Force, his master's scarred and lined face smooth and serene. Someday that will be me, Obi-Wan thought with determination. Someday in a future so distant he could only just imagine it, he admitted to himself with a sigh. He stood quietly, careful not do disturb his master, and then because there was nothing else to do, walked to the window and looked out.
Outside the storm had begun in dark silence, the moonlight blanked out completely by a dense stratum of clouds that loomed low and heavy, and seemed almost close enough to touch. The air was thick with swirling snow and to Obi-Wan is seemed as if the world had been reduced to the small distance beyond the window that was not completely obscured by flurries of white.
Obi-Wan had never seen snow before. He knew what it was, he had studied the holo-disks with his fellow students at the Jedi Temple, but he had spent his entire childhood on the climate controlled planet of Corusant. The wild swirling whiteness outside was completely new to him.
He stood at the window for a long time watching the snow fall, even though there was little to see beyond the whiteness. He was worn out from long hours of keeping pace with Qui-Gon's longer stride, but somehow he was in no mood for sleep and was too restless to meditate.
"It is time to rest, Padawan. We have a long march in the morning."
Obi-Wan turned to see Qui-Gon still kneeling with his eyes closed. "Yes, Master."
Obi-Wan wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and curled up on the floor next to his master, positive he would not sleep, but it seemed like just minutes later that Qui-Gon was gently shaking him awake. It was still dark and bitterly cold.
In the darkness, Obi-Wan could see that Qui-Gon was re-packing his survival kit, preparing to leave. He sat up immediately. "You've heard from our contact?"
Their contact, a former gangster turned informant, was the reason they were here on this frozen outer rim rock of a planet. The man carried with him a holodisk filled with information on criminal activity across the galaxy. The man and the information he carried was desperately sought by both sides of the law. He was calculating, suspicious and possessed a keen sense of self preservation, all of which had kept him alive this long.
He had agreed to turn the information over to the Jedi, but was still wary. He had changed the location of their meeting several times, forcing them to abandon their ship and move on foot across the cold barren planet. He was a very nervous man, probably for good reason.
Qui-Gon gave a brief affirmative nod. "He has changed his instructions and sent new coordinates. He wants to meet tonight. I am to come alone."
Obi-Wan stood and began to gather the few things he had removed from his pack.
Qui-Gon's voice was gentle but firm, "No, Obi-Wan. You are to stay here. I promised the man I would come alone."
"But Master, I should come with you, it will be dangerous."
Qui-Gon continued as if Obi-Wan had not even spoken. "I want you to remain here and get some sleep. I should be gone no longer than an hour or two, and I will contact you using the comlink if I need you."
Obi-Wan's voice was quiet, but tight with anger and frustration, "But this could be a trap, master. The man has not changed who he is, I can feel it. He is a thief and a liar and cannot be trusted."
"I don't trust him either, but there are few other options. I promise you I will be careful, Padawan."
"But.."
"Padawan." The word had turned into a soft warning.
Obi-Wan knew better than to argue with a master, with his master, but he just could not stop the words from coming out. "How am I to learn if you never take me with you? I want to help you."
The moment of dark silence before Qui-Gon spoke told Obi-Wan he had gone too far, though he could see nothing of his master's expression in the darkness. When Qui-Gon did speak his low, emotionless tone was anything but reassuring, "What you can learn, Padawan, is your place. This pointless arguing is beneath you and gains you nothing. You can help me by staying here and being rested and ready to leave the moment I return."
The words came out harsher than Qui-Gon had intended, but he meant them. It was not a padawan's place to question his master. And he had no time to argue or for the hurt, bewildered expression on Obi-Wan's face.
After exchanging a meaningful look with his padawan, he left the room without another word.
&
Despite his master's orders, Obi-Wan did not sleep. He knew it would be useless to try. He sat on the cold hard floor in the middle of the room, trying to work through his anger and frustration. He knew he had acted childish. But Qui-Gon was supposed to teach him and yet here he was alone, again. This was not the first time Qui-Gon had left him on a mission. On Gala, Qui-Gon had gone off to make contact with the dangerous hill people alone, leaving Obi-Wan on his own at the queen's palace.
At least there he'd had something to do. Obi-Wan stood impatiently, stalked over to the window and looked out.
The world outside had been transformed. The storm clouds had cleared and stars glinted in bright hardness against the jet black sky. Moonlight cast shadows across the transfigured landscape, coloring the scene in a thousand shades of white and gray. The barren ugliness of the planet transfigured into something alive and new, that seemed to have always been there waiting to be revealed. It was beautiful.
Qui-Gon's orders had been clear, but Obi-Wan could stay in this cold, empty room no longer. He made his decision in an instant and would suffer whatever the consequences it brought with his master later. His curiosity about the snow got the best of him and suddenly he was no longer tired. He would go outside and explore.
He quietly stepped out into the hallway and stood for a moment, listening. The entire floor seemed deserted and everything was still. The cold was intense. Obi-Wan moved swiftly down the long corridor then paused at the top of the stairs to listen again; the misty swirls of his breath wreathed his head. He clenched and unclenched his fingers to warm them.
He was down the stairs and almost to the door when he heard voices. Something made him stop and listen.
"Blast this snow! As if we don't have enough troubles already." Obi-Wan instantly recognized the deep throaty voice of the girl, Errita. He turned from the door and moved toward the sound. It was coming from a room at the back of the building, light pooling on the floor from the partially open door. Obi-Wan crept silently forward and peered in.
Errita's back was to Obi-Wan as she rummaged through storage bins, swearing colorfully, obviously looking for something. The younger girl, Sarra, sat in a chair, feet tucked up under her robes, hugging herself trying to stay warm.
Errita," she began thoughtfully, "Errita, remember when we were children and how we used to love the snow. Do you remember the snowball fights we used to have?"
Errita stopped her search and turned toward the younger girl. Her hard face grew soft in remembrance, her voice was reproachful but gentle. "That was a long time ago, Sarra, you would do better to forget it and help me get the heating unit restarted. Our uncle will not be happy for the loss of business and you know as well as I what he is capable of when he is not happy."
Obi-Wan stepped forward automatically. At last he could do something useful.
Errita turned, startled, as Obi-Wan entered the room. She was instantly on guard, her voice had an angry, threatening edge, completely different from only a moment before. "Well, if it isn't our pretty little Jedi boy. What are you doing sneaking around down here in the middle of the night?"
Obi-Wan felt his face flush and he could not keep the stammer out of his voice when he spoke, the truth the only answer he could think of. "I-I was going outside to see the snow and I heard you talking."
She laughed a hard laugh. "A little eavesdropper. Well, don't let us stop you from freezing to death. Oh and by the way, this room is off limits to guests. So get out."
Obi-Wan remained where he was, he wanted to help, but was unsure if his offer would be welcome. "I can help you fix the heating unit."
Errita stood and strode toward him, her voice bitter and hateful. She waived the hydro spanner in her hand dangerously close to Obi-Wan's face. "We don't need any handouts, Jedi, we get by just fine on our own. Now don't just stand there, I said get out!"
It looked like no one wanted his help tonight. What had he done to make her hate him so much?
Obi-Wan almost turned to go, but something stopped him. His master's words echoed in his head. Look closer, it might not be as it appears. He looked at Errita, really looked at her for the first time, reaching out through the Force, trying to touch the Living Force connection that bound all living things together.
He took a breath and was filled with a rush of emotions that were not his own. Hate was not among them. If anything what he felt most was fear, overcome only by a powerful sense of protectiveness for the helpless, especially her young sister. And pride. She clung to her pride like a treasured possession, the last remnant of a lost home and childhood. It was her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. She would never willingly become indebted to anyone for anything.
He suddenly knew what to do. He stepped forward and reached to take the hydro spanner from her, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. She refused to let go and they both gripped the tool in a silent struggle. He chose his words carefully. "If I help you it would not be a handout. We are indebted to you for the room you gave us, it would be repayment."
They stood for a long moment eye to eye, each taking measure of the other, waiting for a crack in the other's resolve that was not likely to come anytime soon.
It was Sarra who broke the silence. "Please, Errita, let him help us. I am so c-cold, I can't s-stand it any longer."
After a moment's uncertain hesitation, Errita dropped her hold. She stepped back and stood, hands on hips, summoning up as much authority into her voice as she could she said, "You're right, you should earn your keep. If I hadn't given you that room you might well have frozen to death. Go ahead and take a look," she inclined her head toward the open equipment panel in the wall, "I doubt you can do much harm."
Obi-Wan worked quickly, he had no choice, it was so cold that he was losing all feeling in his fingers. The heating unit was old and should have been tossed on the junk heap years ago, but Obi-Wan soon saw the faulty connection that had caused the malfunction.
Using a collection of odd parts from the tool kit he fashioned a replacement connection. Holding his breath he tentatively restarted the unit. There was a loud band and a cloud of black smoke shot forth, making Obi-Wan choke and cough. But the part held and heat instantly poured into the room from an overhead vent. Sarra moved from the chair where she had been shivering under a cloak to stand under the stream of hot air.
"You did it!" She clapped her hands together gleefully. Her smile filled Obi-Wan with a sense of purpose and strength.
"Yes, you did." Errita's voice was thoughtful, but not unhappy. "I suppose we are in your debt, Jedi." A small smile crept unwillingly to her face.
Obi-Wan had not noticed before how kind her eyes were. Or how beautiful. "It's Obi-Wan. And you don't owe me anything. Consider us even. It is repayment for your kind generosity."
"This is worth more than a night's lodging." Sarra was twirling a graceful pirouette in the cloud of warm air that had filled the room.
"Sarra's right, but I think I know of a way we can settle this. Come on, Sarra, let's show Obi-Wan how grateful we are." She flashed Obi-Wan a mischievous look then was out the door before he could say a word.
Sarra trailed after her sister, laughing and dancing her way out of the room.
Obi-Wan could do nothing but follow.
&
It had been a long night. The dark snowy journey to the rendezvous point had been difficult and treacherous. Then suddenly the weather had changed yet again. The storm clouds slipped away silently in the night and dawn broke clear and warm. The newly laid blanket of snow dissolved quickly in the morning sun, soon rushing water from the melting snow swept up dirt and rocks forming hazardous rivers of icy water and debris, making the return journey almost worse.
Qui-Gon slogged through the slush and mud, eager to get back to his padawan. He knew his parting words had stung the boy and he was anxious smooth things over. He had meant what he'd said and did not regret his decision to leave the boy, but his harsh words had haunted him through his solitary night journey. He was surprised how much he had missed having Obi-Wan by his side and soon began to wish that he had shown more understanding. He remembered what it was like to be young, and his padawan rarely complained.
The sight of Obi-Wan waiting for him in front of the building made him smile. The young Jedi was leaning against the wall just outside the door, eyes closed, his face turned toward the sun, basking in its radiant warmth. A rare picture of relaxation for a padawan so utterly determined to succeed in all things.
Qui-Gon was still a distance from the building when Obi-Wan sensed his presence and eagerly rushed forward to meet him. They exchanged no words of greeting, it was not their way, but there was a welcome in their silence just the same.
When they reached the doorway, Qui-Gon turned and regarded his apprentice fondly. The boy looked up at him, a wordless apology written all over his young face.
Qui-Gon offered an apology of his own. "I am sorry I was delayed, Padawan. It took longer to locate our contact than I expected, he is a very nervous man. I will go inside and give directions for them to settle our bill with the Temple, then we must leave at once. There is information on this disk that the senate must act on immediately."
"The bill is taken care of, Master. And I am ready to leave when you are."
Qui-Gon was surprised, apparently his padawan had been busy.
He took a moment to study the young man before speaking. Something had changed that he could not quite put his finger on. Qui-Gon was pleased to see that the impatience and frustration his apprentice had struggled with earlier were gone, but the feelings that had replaced them he could not quite identify. And there was something Obi-Wan was obviously dying to tell him, but the boy stood silently, respectfully playing the proper padawan, waiting to be addressed.
"You have something to say, Obi-Wan?"
"I am sorry for my behavior, Master. It was inappropriate. I behaved like a youngling and I am ashamed. I know I still have much to learn."
Qui-Gon said nothing, he knew there was more.
The words once loosed, came out fast and breathlessly, "I have learned so much from you already. You were right about people, Master. It just takes time to see what is on the inside. I listened to your advice and I have new friends and a new understanding because of it. I felt a Living Force connection to a stranger like I have never felt before. You have shown me that and I am grateful. I learned a great deal last night."
Obi-Wan's smile was bright and infectious. Qui-Gon returned it warmly as he put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "When there is time, you must tell me about it. But I am afraid it is past time to be on our way."
"I am ready, Master, though I shall be sorry to leave."
They encountered no one as they made their way through town, the motley assortment of inhabitants apparently unwilling to brave the messy conditions of the roads. Beyond the last decrepit building that defined the borders of the city it was worse, the road had been washed away completely.
The Jedi had little energy spared for talk as it took all of their concentration to navigate their way through the shifted landscape and to keep their footing on the icy terrain. The glare of the sun on the remaining snow made everything painfully bright, forcing them to keep their heads down and their eyes on the ground. The hot sun beating down on their necks did nothing to ward off the chill of the icy water that soaked their clothes and numbed their feet.
What could his padawan have learned last night? Qui-Gon wondered almost absentmindedly as he forged ahead through the muck. The question staying somewhere in the back of his mind until some unspoken word or fragment of an unfinished thought suddenly captured his full attention. He almost stopped in his tracks, but habit compelled his feet to take the next step and then the next, while his mind raced. What could his young padawan have learned last night, alone, in a brothel!
No! It was a ridiculous thought. Obi-Wan was just a boy.
A boy who had lived a very sheltered life in the safety and security of the Jedi Temple, a boy who had only recently begun his journey into the dangers of the outside world, under the careful protection and guidance of his master, his master who had willfully chosen to leave him alone, at the edge of the galaxy in a sordid little outer rim space port.
Obi-Wan is not a child, Qui-Gon told himself impatiently. He is a Jedi. He knows perfectly well how to act like a Jedi and he can take care of himself. But the seed of the notion once planted would not go away.
Qui-Gon slogged on through the mire of melting snow and ice, desperately trying to recall his own youth, searching his memory for some frame of reference to help him recall what his own experience had been at Obi-Wan's age. He kicked his way impatiently through the mud and icy water that soaked his boots and made his cloak drag. It was all just too long ago. And Xan's teenage years, well, that was different.
He abandoned that line of thought and reached tentatively across their bond, testing the feelings. The Jedi master was surprised by the bright contentment he felt radiating from the boy. Qui-Gon did not know what to make of it. He kept moving as he puzzled over it, his brow creased against the sun's brightness and darkened in thought, the icy coldness of the water seeping through his boots, unattended.
His padawan's pervasive cheerfulness did nothing to warm him, but settled into cold uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. What in the Force would make Obi-Wan so cheerful in these miserable conditions? What indeed? And what was that noise? It took Qui-Gon a moment to realize it was not coming across their bond. Was his padawan actually whistling?
Qui-Gon cleared his throat, making his voice casual with an effort. "This friend… the one with whom you felt this Living Force connection. Was it the girl, Sarra? She seems about your age."
"Yes, Master, both Sarra and her sister, Errita."
Both?.!
"And when did this, ah… connection occur? This morning after you woke up?"
He hazarded a sideways glance at his apprentice but all he saw was the sandy haired top of Obi-Wan's bent head.
"I um, I.." Obi-Wan's voice colored slightly with nervous apprehension. "I never really went back to bed, Master."
Qui-Gon stopped and turned and looked, really looked at his apprentice, as if regarding a stranger. There was something different about the boy, something he had inexplicably failed to notice. "Obi-Wan, what happened to your pants?"
Obi-Wan looked down at the unfamiliar gray leggings he was wearing in surprise as if he had forgotten how he had come to be wearing someone else's clothes. When he looked up his face was flushed red, but he was smiling brilliantly. "Oh, Sarra found these for me. Mine were torn and then I lost them."
Qui-Gon stood cemented to the spot, cold and wet, a hundred questions ran through his mind, but all he did was raise his eye brow in question and stare at his padawan, feeling old and ill prepared to deal with the situation.
"I think perhaps you had better explain, Obi-Wan." Was all he could finally think to say, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm as he stood ankle deep in the frozen mud and ice.
It was then that he saw it. It was gone in an instant, that spark of light in Obi-Wan's eyes that was the only outward sign of his apprentice's quirky, often ill-timed sense of humor. A brilliant flash of sky that told the older Jedi that Obi-Wan had finally understood what he was thinking, and was now convinced that his master had gone totally batty.
When Qui-Gon looked again he saw nothing but a proper padawan expression of obedience and respect, but it had been there and he had seen it and Obi-Wan knew he had seen it.
"Padawan," his effort to sound stern almost ruined by the tremor of uncertain laugher in his voice, "Will you please tell me what we are talking about?"
Obi-Wan smiled up at his master, his eyes round with false surprise. He spoke slowly and clearly as if reciting a lesson to an ancient master with questionable hearing, or as if hopelessly trying to explain the obvious to an imbecile.
"A snowball fight, Master. We are talking about a snowball fight."
&The End&