BEARD: Part One

By Jemmiah

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"Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon knocked on the door to the refresher room and waited to receive some kind of acknowledgement. How long had he been in there? And just why had a fifteen-year-old boy any reason to be narcissistic in the first place?

Lately it had become ridiculous, if faintly amusing to Qui-Gon, watching his padawan's developing vanity hit full stride. Usually a model of dignity and decorum within the temple, (although occasionally disobedient and headstrong) Obi-Wan was beginning to develop both physically and mentally in leaps and bounds. That was the part that Qui-Gon was having difficulty with. The boy was toughening up and strengthening his body with exercise and practising of Katas in the training rooms. His mind however was beginning to stray towards natural (if undesirable) adolescent fantasies, and frankly Qui-Gon was at a loss for what to do or say to keep his student's attention where it should be and not fluttering his lashes shyly at every female padawan that passed by.

Was he ever like that, he wondered? He somehow doubted it. Even if he could remember back to his first lovesick yearnings he was almost certain that Yoda would have made sure that was all they remained. Yoda had been the ultimate girlfriend deterrent. The kudos he'd received on being claimed as the troll's padawan had been instantly negated in the romance department. Well, perhaps that was just as well, as it turned out.

After all, look at how all his relationships had ended.

No, a jedi was made to be committed to the force and to the force alone. It was the ultimate master (or indeed mistress). Who needed anything else? Whilst that was probably true he recalled Obi-Wan's frustrated, hormonal reply, still wringing in his ears from the last time they had discussed the matter.

"That's why jedi frown all the time." He stated.

The more Qui-Gon thought about it, the more he wondered if the young man wasn't right. After all, why else did his friend Dex Berlingside smile so much?

"A distracted mind is an unhealthy thing." He'd informed his padawan one day, affecting his sternest voice. "You have to focus on the moment, not fritter away your time dreaming about unattainable things."

"They're only unattainable if you don't know where to look." Obi-Wan replied.

Why had that answer worried Qui-Gon so much?

A year before, Obi-Wan had been a shy, serious, determined individual who couldn't look at the top of a female stocking without his face turning into a beacon of embarrassment. He was still serious, still determined but under no circumstances could the word shy be used in the same context as his name. Somewhere along the way Qui-Gon had forgotten exactly what it was like to be driven by X-chromosomes.

"Hormones are of the dark side of the force." He'd recently told Obi-Wan. "Hormones lead to trouble. Trouble leads suffering. Suffering leads to chemical suppression. Have you got that?"

"Yes master." Obi-Wan had sighed, and promptly went back to writing I LOVE SHERIA on the top of the flimsy he was supposed to be jotting notes down on for his history exam.

Qui-Gon snapped himself back to the present. He wasn't exactly focussed himself right now, amidst all the distraction of his padawan and his current paramour.

"Obi-Wan? Can you please hurry up in there?" Qui-Gon repeated, knocking on the door again with his knuckles. "We have to meet Master Berlingside in fifteen minutes and I need to get in to the fresher."

He'd expected to be hailed with either a cheery "yes master, sorry master" or (depending on how his youthful hormones were behaving) a grudging, incomprehensible grunt which could just about mean anything - and probably did. Instead however, Qui-Gon was somewhat alarmed to be answered with a long and unhappy sounding groan.

"Urggggggnnnnn." The noise drifted under the door.

"Padawan?" Jinn frowned. "Are…are you okay?"

Silence.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon continued doggedly, listening to the series of sobs and squeals that permeated through the barrier that separated them both, "are you in some kind of pain? Shall I fetch you a healer?"

Silence.

"Padawan, I can't help you if you don't speak to me." Qui-Gon was beginning to get seriously worried. "Can you tell me what the matter is?"

He thought about the fact that Obi-Wan had locked himself in the fresher of all places. "It wasn't those Tooni fowl legs in Takkini sauce we had last night, was it?"

Obi-Wan let out another groan.

"It's awful." He whimpered pitifully.

"Padawan, what is awful? The pain?" Now Qui-Gon was beginning to foresee another trip to the infirmary and swallowed back his own distress. Obi-Wan would require him to be calm. "I need you to unlock the door for me, can you do that? I can't help you out here."

"It's too horrendous…I can't face anyone ever again."

Qui-Gon sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

"Obi-Wan, listen to me!" Jinn demanded. "Open the door. Whatever is wrong I can help you if you just let me look at you."

"I can't." the moaned reply came back, echoing and distorted.

"Are you hurt?" Qui-Gon persisted.

"Y-yes, master." The padawan's voice sounded strangely small.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Yes, master. It's too ghastly for words!" Kenobi moaned in despair.

The master was beginning to get extremely concerned, imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios involving half-amputated limbs and large puddles of blood across the tiled floor. Whatever was wrong, Obi-Wan was scared stiff and that wasn't like him at all. He had to get in to help him!

"Obi-Wan, let me in!" Jinn thumped on the door.

"N-no, master!" Kenobi squawked back. "I can't! Please…"

"If you're injured I need to see, if it's as bad as you think it is. Now open the door!" his voice began to rise an octave or two in barely suppressed panic.

"I can't!"

Qui-Gon had by that stage reached the limit of his patience. If Obi-Wan were badly hurt he'd have to haul him out of there no matter what the situation. It wasn't something he liked to do especially but he couldn't help but feel that the means justified the ends on this occasion.

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon tried to sense with the force exactly where the locking mechanism was situated within the door, and slowly he latched onto the circuitry and reversed the power so that the catch would be released. The door swung open, leaving Qui-Gon temporarily blinded by the warm, yellow light that shot out of the room, followed shortly after by the sauna-like cloud of steam from the direction of the bath.

"Padawan!" Jinn rushed forward to where Obi-Wan was leaning over the basin, head in his hands. "Look at me. Whatever is the matter?"

Gradually, so laggardly that Qui-Gon wondered if there was something wrong with his padawan's neck, Obi-Wan dared to turn humiliated - and somewhat apologetic - blue eyes up at the tall master. What Qui-Gon saw temporarily stunned him into silence.

All over Obi-Wan's face were tiny strips of paper, stuck down by large traces of dark red blood.

"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon eventually managed to get out. "What HAVE you done to yourself?"

The miserable apprentice cast his eyes down at the rather savage razor clutched convulsively in his fingers by way of an answer, not daring to look his master in the face.

"I…I was trying to shave." He admitted bashfully. "As you can see, it didn't go quite as well as I had anticipated."

"Evidently." Qui-Gon felt his jaw dropping in surprise. "But Obi-Wan, you do not need to shave!"

"I thought that maybe it was about time that I started." He shrugged ineffectively. "You see, Jemmy said that Sheria likes men with beards so I wanted…"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Hormones again.

"I doubt very much that Sheria will want to look at you in that state." Jinn postulated, crossing his arms and trying not to laugh at the ridiculous appearance of his poor padawan. This was probably punishment enough for the boy, and would serve very well as his own lesson. "More to the point, I think Jemmiah might have been having a bit of a joke with you."

"Jemmy wouldn't do that." Obi-Wan said stoutly.

"Our opinions differ on that matter." Qui-Gon took the razor from the boy's hand and studied under the light.

"Master, please might I be excused from training with Kryztan and Master Berlingside today?" Obi-Wan pleaded. "I don't really think that this is a particularly good image for me right now."

Qui-Gon glanced the boy up and down and found himself having to agree with him.

"Very well. I will see that you are excused practise." The master smiled at Obi-Wan amusedly. "You might be advised to tidy the fresher room up as soon as possible. Now that you've finished mutilating yourself in the name of vanity perhaps I can get in." Qui-Gon walked crisply past the young man, leaving Obi-Wan somewhat chagrined at the lack of sympathy he was getting.

Dejectedly, Obi-Wan turned his back and clumped dispiritedly away towards the kitchen.

"Oh, and padawan?" Qui-Gon called from just inside the doorway. "Next time you try to shave, perhaps it would be better if you used an energy-celled device like the one I use," he held up the little machine for Obi-Wan to see, "rather than the barbarous item you seem to be using."

Obi-Wan gawked at the man. "Pardon, master?"

"I said, this is not a proper razor." Qui-Gon held the sharp little knife into the air. "It was one of those many silly presents that Master Berlingside and Master Windu like to give me from time to time. It's, er…not for use on the face." He nodded down at his lower torso.

"But Jemmy said that…" Obi-Wan's eyes bugged.

"Ah-ha." Qui-Gon shot Obi-Wan a told-you-so look.

Obi-Wan clenched his teeth together.

"I'll murder her."

Qui-Gon smiled and said nothing else. For a moment at least it might stop his padawan's thoughts from dwelling on the ubiquitous Sheria. Certainly, Sheria wouldn't spare the boy a second glance in his present condition.

No doubt that had been Jemmiah's reasoning, too…