"You're getting too heavy to carry Padawan."
"I'm not too heavy," Obi-Wan grunted, shifting his weight so he wouldn't place so much strain on his dislocated knee and on Qui-Gon's shoulders. "It's just you're too weak."
"Too weak? Tell me, how many blaster burns do you have? Because while I have only one, you have-"
"My burns are superficial. While your one is on your face-!"
"Do you want me to drop you Obi-Wan? Because I will."
He laughed, then grimaced as pain radiated from his burns. "Drop me and you'll gain the title, 'Worst Master in History.' And that would make me, Worst-Master-in-History's Padawan. I don't think I can take that kind of pressure."
"Cheeky brat."
It was certainly an odd sight to behold. Knights and younglings alike did double-takes as the two walked through the Temple halls, making their way towards the healers. Qui-Gon Jinn, famously known to be defiant but true, was covered head to toe in black soot. His tattered robes flared behind him and his boots left scratch marks upon the smooth floor. His hair was a mess and the wound on his forehead was still bleeding. But his eyes, the same eyes that make even the occasional seasoned Master turn away from, was dancing with amusement and flare.
Leaning heavily against him, and just as famous for simply being in the same room with him, was his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unlike his Master, Obi-Wan was clean, free from soot. However, angry red burns covered his exposed arms and black sheared spots covered his tunic. But despite the boy was obviously suffering from numerous second-degree burns, he was smiling and laughing, occasionally wincing when his knee would declare it was still there.
Mace Windu waited patiently by the healers ward, hearing the gales of laughter echoing down to him. He scowled when he saw the two, then sighed. He could not bring himself to stay angry. The sight was too…stupid for him to take seriously. "Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi," He greeted them stiffly.
Obi-Wan tried to bow, but Qui-Gon's supporting arm stopped him. Lest he injure his knee further. "Mace," The Master replied. "You look well."
"Can't say the same about you two," He eyed the burns disdainfully. "I trust this is going to be an interesting report?"
Qui-Gon shrugged. "Not really."
Mace sighed again, stepping aside to let them pass. Qui-Gon gave him a warm smirk and Obi-Wan bowed his head in respect as he limped past. "One of these days you're going to come here with no legs, Jinn," He called after them.
"I can't do that Mace. Who'll carry Obi-Wan?"
As the doors to the healer ward closed, the Council member heard the young lad give off an indignant "Hey!" followed by an evil crackle.
()
Many people thought Master Healer Tona should have turned out to be a Jedi knight. Her nine foot frame and thick arms intimidated even the most harden warrior. There were even rumors that Master Yoda avoided this woman when possible.
Tona crossed her arms over her giant breasts, staring at two Jedi with a frown. "For pity's sakes Jinn," She spat, eyeing the injuries. "Both of you were here less than a month ago. How is it that the both of you always seem to get yourselves injured on every mission?"
"The will of the Force," Qui-Gon answered.
Tona huffed and turned around, grabbing the bacta salve from a cabinet. "That only proves the Force has a sense of humor. Here," She shoved the jar into Qui-Gon's hands. "You can put that on yourself. Kenobi? Get on the table so I can look at that knee."
Obi-Wan hobbled over and jumped on the examining table, the metal squeaking under his weight. Tona moved in front of the young man, bending over to stare at the purple and blue mess. Although bent, the woman was large enough to block Obi-Wan's view of his Master. "Hmm…" Tona sighed. "You just twisted it. There's no need for you to be in the tank. Just keep your knee tightly wrapped and try not to walk on it for at least three days. It's those burns I don't like. Take off your tunic."
Obi-Wan, who was telegraphing insults at his Master, blinked at her request. "I'm sorry, what?"
Tona repeated her order. "Take off your tunic. I want to see how serious those blaster burns are."
"They're not that serious Master Tona," Obi-Wan interject.
"I'll be the one to judge that. If you don't take off your tunic Padawan Kenobi, I have the right to strap you down and take it off for you."
Obi-Wan's lips thinned, his good humor suddenly gone. He tried to look over at his Master but Tona's huge frame acted like a wall between them. He took in a breath and tried again. "Master Tona, I don't need-"
Tona's huge hand came out of nowhere, practically engulfing Obi-Wan's torso. Her large fingers wrapped around him, keeping him still. He tried to pull back, to push her hand away but it was fruitless. She was simply too strong for a normal human.
"Stop it Kenobi," She said. "This is going to happen whether you like it or not. So you might as well not even try."
Nothing you say or do will stop me. So you might as well not even try.
Tona grabbed the back of his tunic and pulled, ripping the material off.
Obi-Wan's eyes went wide. He stiffened suddenly as Tona's finger began touching the curve of his back.
Don't worry little one, I'll be gentle.
"No- don't-"
"Master Tona," Qui-Gon placed a gentle hand on the giant's wrist. "I think it'll be best if I put the slave on Obi-Wan myself. He'll less likely to struggle."
The healer huffed. "Fine," She said, releasing her hold on the young man. "I've got others to check up on. Kenobi needs salve on those burns once every four hours and that knee needs an ice pack." She gave Qui-Gon a pointed look before turning and leaving the room.
Qui-Gon eyes traveled to his Padawan.
Obi-Wan's back was to him, the remains of his tunic in tatters. Burns covered the young man's shoulders and arms. His hands gripped the edges of table so hard Qui-Gon feared it might bent. "Obi-Wan," He said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. She's gone."
Obi-Wan took in a shuddering breath. He turned to Qui-Gon, forcing a smile upon his face. "Boy, Master Tona can sure be intimidating." He said, trying to sound funny but failing.
Qui-Gon frowned. "Obi-Wan-"
"Will you put the slave on, Master? I don't think I can reach certain places."
Qui-Gon felt his lips tightened. Should he push, ask what he could do to help more? But he knew. He knew Obi-Wan will merely brush the incident aside with one hand and act as if nothing had happened. Despite all the literature he's read, all the advice he heard, Qui-Gon was still at a loss on what to do.
He sighed. Taking the salve, he asked a question not so different from his intent. "Where does it hurt the most, Padawan?"
()
"Perceive this mission a success, you do?"
"Yes," Qui-Gon said to the revered Grand Master. "The next few years will be rough, but I have confidence the new constitution will be accepted into the society with little backlash."
"Hmm…upset Mace will be. Your adventure, not so interesting."
Qui-Gon choked back a laugh. Even though it was Yoda who said the joke, it was still considered rude to laugh at the Council Member's expense.
The small green alien paused at the edge of a small pond, gazing over the water thoughtfully. Qui-Gon silently stood beside him, lost in his own thoughts.
After a minute or two, Yoda broke the silence. "Year has been for Padawan Kenobi."
Qui-Gon felt his throat tightened. "Yes."
"Improve, you believe he has?"
"I…" He sighed, frustrated. "His relationship with Bant has gotten better. He does not cringe when she hugs him. He sleeps through the night without waking up… " Qui-Gon was glad for his robes; Yoda does not see his hands curling into fists. "Sometimes I see him getting better, but then there are times I feel nothing has changed."
"Elaborate, you will."
"The smell of perfume still makes him nauseous. He breaks eye contact with me often… And earlier today when Master Tona tried to heal him, he almost had a full blown panic attack."
"Hmm," Yoda nodded, making his way deeper into the gardens. "Told you his troubles, has he?"
"No, he hasn't. I've asked, I've pushed, but it seems each time I try to bring it up, Obi-Wan shuts off."
Obi-Wan licks his dry lips, his eyes never leaving the floor. He speaks in a childlike tone, as if Qui-Gon caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. "M-may I get dressed Master?"
Qui-Gon could feel his chest tightened. He has hardly ever heard Obi-Wan stutter. He nods, unable to trust his voice and takes a step back to let him dress. The young man does not move, his hands clenching the blankets around him in a tighter grip. "Could you please turn around?"
It was like a stab to the heart, to hear his Padawan so fearful, so defeated.
The anger has not left. Not even after endless hours of meditation. "I don't know what to do Master. It's been a year and Obi-Wan still refuses to speak to me about this."
"Not time, Obi-Wan needs," The short green Master stated. "Face his demons he must or else never let go, he will."
"That's the problem," Qui-Gon's voice was unnaturally bitter. "I fear we'll never find the woman who did this. And if Obi-Wan doesn't want to talk…"
WHACK! Qui-Gon closed his eyes, trying not to let out the howl of pain that was radiating from his shin. Yoda's claws curled around his glimmer stick, acting as if Qui-Gon's sudden silence was voluntary. "Not literal demons, Obi-Wan must face. Inner demons he has. Come to terms with his attack or lead him to darkness, his fear will."
Once Qui-Gon was sure he could speak without gasping, he rasped, "Yes Master."
"Another mission you will take. The Force tells me this. Will help Obi-Wan, but only if you are willing."
"I am."
Yoda smiled. "Good."