I wrote this a long, long time ago and haven't read it in years either, but I had a request to post it. It's written in, oh, sort of a JA style as far as "complexity" goes - just a hurt/comfort piece of a sort, rather predictable and all. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One. Doing Right, Being Wrong
It had been the right thing to do, Obi-Wan knew with no doubt at all. It was right, so why was he trying to reassure himself? No, it wasn't that he doubted his decision, or the consequences of going behind Qui-Gon's back. It wasn't fear, for Qui-Gon would come to agree that Obi-Wan had made the correct decision, no matter his ire at the moment.
It was only that his master was disappointed in him. No matter how muddled his thoughts during his illness, no matter the correctness of what Obi-Wan had done, Qui-Gon Jinn was upset that Obi-Wan was responsible for getting them recalled from a very important mission and replaced by another team. The padawan had made a decision for the team, and the master was displeased. Highly displeased.
I don't care, the young padawan thought, looking at his master's crossed arms and glare of disapproval. You almost died with this fever a year ago; I will not risk your health again, even if you will.
But he could not deny that he did, indeed, care. For in his heart of hearts, his biggest fear was of disappointing his master. He had thought he had come close in the past, and the brush only fueled his determination to be better, do better and to never come so close again.
Qui-Gon Jinn was angry, upset and disappointed – all in a quiet and verbally silent way. His was not the emotion of flailed arms or biting words, or cold tone of voice.
It was silence – a cold glare of brilliant blue eyes turned to glacial ice, of firmly closed lips, and waves of cool disappointment that leached the warmth from his padawan's body.
Obi-Wan continued to kneel, head bowed and waiting for his dismissal. He would not speak, he would accept whatever Qui-Gon chose to do, but he would not apologize. He stole a look at the Jedi master, and thought he would far prefer that Qui-Gon actually yell at him or otherwise verbalize his emotions. The words he could accept and dismiss; this cold stare only chilled him.
Finally, the master spoke, words of chipped and fractured ice within the hot furnace that boiled within. "It is done, padawan. We return to the Temple. You will spend your time in reflection and meditation until our arrival. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, and fled, bright burning spots of red on his cheekbones, leaving in his wake soft tremors of rebelliousness and stubborn determination that leaked past his tight shields. He tightened his lips and blinked away the tears behind his eyes. He will come to see that I only did what I must. He will. Master Yoda himself said that I did the correct thing. He will forgive me, when he is well.
Obi-Wan was troubled, for he was only fourteen – nearly fifteen. He had thought his master and he had come to some kind of mutual understanding and trust after this time together. The doubt had never been on his side of the bond; it had been Qui-Gon's hesitation and uneasiness that had kept a sliver of distance between them.
I am not he, and I will never betray you, Obi-Wan thought, catching a strangled gasp of pain and breathing it out. Master, anything I have done, or may do, is never to betray you. You may not understand, you may not agree, but whatever it is that I have done or will do – it will never be a betrayal. Even this…though I know you feel betrayed.
Obi-Wan had decided on his own to contact the Temple to ask for a replacement team when Qui-Gon had first gotten sick. He had not been – technically - specifically forbidden to do so, for Qui-Gon had never dreamed that Obi-Wan would take such action on his own initiative.
The stubborn Jedi master had insisted he was well enough to continue the mission, but his temperature had risen and his thoughts were tumbling. The Force itself was disturbed about him. Obi-Wan knew it was best to have another team replace them for this negotiation, and he didn't hesitate to contact the Temple. He would face his master's wrath after his recovery, and by then, Qui-Gon would agree that Obi-Wan had taken the only prudent course of action.
The two Jedi packed their minimal gear in silence. Obi-Wan kept worried eyes on his master, for the fever and chills, and racking cough were getting worse. He didn't dare ask how his master felt, for he continued to feel the cold waves of hurt roll through the Force. He kept silent and his head down, lips stubbornly shut.
Wrapped in their cloaks, they stood on the landing platform awaiting the ship that would bring their replacements and return them to the Temple. Side by side they stood, within arms reach of each other, and so far apart that an entire galaxy might have separated them.
The ship settled and lowered the ramp, and the replacement team strode down. Obi-Wan recognized neither Jedi. Both apprentices bowed as the two masters nodded to each other.
"Master Jinn, I trust you are well enough to make the trip," the newcomer stated.
"I am well enough, thank you, Master Ceil," Qui-Gon replied, in a voice hoarse and raspy from illness and disuse. "Despite reports, I am not at death's door."
Master Ceil glanced sideways at Padawan Kenobi, standing silent and flushed and a glimmer of understanding showed within his eyes. "I am sure the Council knows what they are doing," he said neutrally, but he threw a look at the padawan that clearly indicated he thought the padawan had behaved correctly in this situation. Obi-Wan nodded, just a slight inclination of his head, in acknowledgement, not wanting his master to be aware of the slight byplay.
"May my padawan have a minute with yours, Master Jinn?" The voice was smooth, giving no hint as to why. Qui-Gon grunted, and nodded his head in assent, and walked aboard the ship as the other padawan spoke, his wording such that should Qui-Gon overhear, he would only think that two friends were greeting each other.
"Hey, Obi-Wan, haven't seen you in a while, how are you?" The padawan, a few years older than Obi-Wan, winked at him and whispered for his ears alone, "I'm Padawan Jiam d'Alvo, should your master ask."
"Jiam, I am concerned for my master," he replied, letting his voice carry his true concern, and nodding his understanding.
Once Qui-Gon had disappeared into the ship, Master Ceil placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
"I have a message from Master Yoda. He said you have done well and do not be concerned." He smiled as Obi-Wan smiled wanly and thanked him for the message. "Is Master Jinn truly up to the trip?"
"Without the stress of this negotiation, I believe so, Master," Obi-Wan answered.
"Then the Force be with you both."
Qui-Gon had walked up the ramp and paused inside the doorway, leaning against the hull, feeling incredibly weak. He heard a faint murmur of voices, then silence. Obi-wan was no doubt following him into the ship. He would not be found leaning against a wall, thoughts swimming and all but ready to collapse.
He didn't want to admit that Obi-Wan was right – he was sick. Very sick. He drew his shields tight and used all his willpower to pull himself upright and stare at his padawan as Obi-Wan hit the release and the ramp slid into the ship.
"I trust your visit went well," he clipped his words.
"Well enough, Master," Obi-Wan said tranquilly, but a spot of color bloomed on his cheeks. To his relief, Qui-Gon didn't press him for details, for he had no wish to lie to his master, nor could he. He would never lie to Qui-Gon. The Jedi master merely grunted and said he would be resting.
"Join me up front, padawan?" the Jedi pilot asked, poking his head through the door to the flight deck.
"Thank you, but no," Obi-Wan declined. He was under orders to seclude himself in meditation and reflection and he would obey his master's command. It was a small transport and there was not much room, just a small cabin, several open seats, and a small cargo hold, currently empty and devoid of any softness or comfort. Perfect for a Jedi padawan in disgrace with his master, Obi-Wan thought. He sat and slipped into a meditative posture.
He was startled back to himself by images of searing heat and aching muscles, a face dripping with sweat. "Master!" he gasped, knowing the source. He rushed to the cabin, knocked lightly, and when he received no answer, opened the door and prepared to face his master's wrath. But Qui-Gon was twisted and feverish, and hardly aware of his padawan's entrance.
"Master?" Obi-Wan breathed, but Qui-Gon didn't respond. Gathering his courage, Obi-Wan slipped over to the Jedi master's side and felt his forehead. Qui-Gon was burning up, and mumbling. He was very sick, Obi-Wan realized, even sicker than he had been, and all his fears returned, doubled and tripled what they had been. He hit the ship intercom button and notified the pilot that the Jedi master was much sicker, and once they exited hyperspace, to contact the Temple and have healers stand by.
That done, Obi-Wan wetted a cloth and patted his master's face. He did not yet know how to reach inside Qui-Gon's body and try to help him heal, but he could send soothing waves of the Force towards him and hope the Jedi master would somehow be able to gain strength from it.
He sat and worried by his master's side, until his head drooped and he laid his head at his master's side. He would just lie quietly, just a minute, soothe the weariness in his own body….and he awoke, to find Qui-Gon looking at him through bruised and brittle eyes that sparkled with his fever.
"Padawan," he whispered, and moved his hand so that it lay over Obi-Wan's, and for just a minute, Obi-Wan thought he saw a glimmer of a smile on his master's lips as Qui-Gon's eyes drooped shut. "Padawan…you shouldn't be here."
Obi-Wan all but gaped at him. "But…but, master! You're sick!" he protested.
"Go. Now." Qui-Gon was slipping back into his fevered dream… don't let Obi-Wan get sick…he was so terribly sick before and I thought I would lose him. I can't lose him…my padawan. Go away…don't risk catching this…."go away, padawan," he said clearly, before he started shaking and huddled within the bunk.
Obi-Wan slowly stood and stared at his master, and hung his head. "Yes, Master," he said softly and stumbled out of the cabin and back to his quiet spot in the cargo hold, where he sat on the cold floor and put his face into his hands. Qui-Gon would never forgive him. How could they go on, together? He thought his heart would break.