Notes: Before Melida/Daan and Xan's death on Telos.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters nor the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm does. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Xani... NO!"
With an agonized cry, Qui-Gon Jinn leapt forward, hands outstretched toward his doomed Padawan. Frantically trying to stave off the horror before him, to keep his apprentice from falling into the boiling morass of stench and acid and death, he reached out, only to have Xanatos step deliberately backwards, out of his grasp.
Laughing maniacally, the feral look of satisfaction painting his face in blood, Xanatos sent one last long glare at his old Master and leapt away - into the roiling acid pool. Tearing screams of agony and liquid torment seemed to echo for an eternity.
"Xani..."
And then that moment as the universe came apart. With horror still clawing his throat, Qui-Gon howled awake and sat bolt upright in his bed.
His heart still thundered, his breath stuttered, shaking with nightmare terrors. He took great gasps of air, trying to still his anxiety. He kept telling himself, over and over again, that it was only a dream, only a dream, that it wasn't real - that what he had dreamt never happened. The nightmare's acrid whiffs of boiling meat, the bone-white despair, the sorrow of lost chances slowly melted into the now of the crypt-quiet room.
A few moments later, a muffled inquiry of "Master..." and his young apprentice padded hesitantly into the room."Are you all right?"
Qui-Gon flinched as the common room light spilled across his bed. Corpse-color bright and then the shadow of a child fell over his face. With dread still lingering in the back of his eyes and nightmare horror shivering into his skin, his voice was harsher than he had intended. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."
The boy blinked rapidly at the rasping tone, his small shoulders slumping. "I'm... I'm sorry I disturbed you." As he turned to go, he murmured, "I thought..."
Memories of that melting agony roughened Qui-Gon's reply. "We have much to do in the morning, Padawan. You should get your rest."
"I'm sorry, Master. I only wanted to..."
Qui-Gon leaned back and closed his eyes. Even awake, he was still haunted by the dreams. And it was not the child's fault that the nightmares visited him every day for a week, draining him.
A gentle sigh. "I appreciate the offer but you cannot help me in this. It will pass. Now get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow."
Yet the young one still did not understand, seemed to hear only the regret and believed himself the cause. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon tried to reassure him but exhaustion began to pull him in. Tomorrow, he would explain it tomorrow. It was a new mission, a new beginning. Tomorrow they would leave for Melida/Daan and then they'd have time enough for explanations, perhaps even come to some accord and start anew, put past difficulties behind them both. "Obi-Wan, it will be all right."
Nodding, the boy turned away, closing the door softly behind him.
Yes, tomorrow, Qui-Gon would put it right, put the horrors of his nightmares, of his failure on Bandomeer with Xanatos behind him, would start over with Obi-Wan. On Melida/Daan.
And ignore the feeling of impending doom.
The end.
