Title: Keeper of the light.
Author: Geri K
Rating: PG
Time Period: JA Apprentice-Before the Saga
Characters: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and star wars characters.
Genre: H/C Angst, Drama
Disclaimer: Star Wars doesn't belong to me and I am just writing for fun.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
Summary: Qui-Gon has lost his way! The keeper of the light has lost his way! It's up to the Force to set the future right, but is it too late.
...
I did begin to post this a couple of years ago somewhere else with a different title. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.
...
~ Present time~
Straight as a flaming arrow, the orange streak blazed towards him.
From the point of origin a ring of smoke slowly wafted idly in the air; the long barrelled blaster still pointing directly at its target.
He sensed the crowd around him, and so many possible victims behind him. There was nothing else to do.
.
He brought his hand to his belt out of instinct, and stepped to block its ultimate destination.
A blossom of pain filled his lungs; sending massive vibrations through his body.
A pungent smell invaded his nostrils. It was the unpleasant odour of burnt meat, and for a split moment, he wondered what was burning.
.
His first instinct was to lift his hands up to the offending agony ripping through his torso.
Time drew to a standstill as he willed his hands to rise quicker; presuming they could stop the burning pain with just one touch.
His second was to dip his head, to see what had caused such a level of pain to assault every fibre of his being.
A sensation of heaviness crept up his arms. Nerves twitched and tingled; then lethargy set in and he lost the inclination to lower his head.
Instead he raised it. Just in time to see two guards tackle the shooter.
.
Collecting his thoughts he berated himself for allowing someone to catch him unaware, without sensing it in the Force.
Perhaps it was because his thoughts were so far away, and consumed with self-loathing and painful memories of the recent events already.
Focusing on the 'here and now' as he should; was impossible.
.
He registered many sounds around him; panicked voices yelling.
(Who are they shouting at?) He considered.
Through the rush of noise and sounds, he struggled to focus on the one voice closest to him.
(Is he shouting at me?)
He didn't understand the words spoken, and his legs felt like jelly as numbness crept up his limbs.
.
He tried in vain to keep his eyes focused on the scene unfolding in front of him.
It was difficult, as an expanse of blue filled his vision. Such a beautiful blue, he reflected; so clear and crisp and inviting.
.
Gliding into view a white dove captured his attention. (Strange,) he thought. He didn't recall looking up to the sky.
Abruptly, awareness of falling backwards confounded him.
Two strong arms halted his slow progression to the ground; supporting him.
.
Sadly his view of the beautiful white dove was blocked by the outline of a white haired distinguished looking gentleman.
He tried to look past the man so he could see the dove again, but the effort to move his head was beyond him.
(Did he know this man?) For some reason he couldn't remember, but he was sure once the pain eased it would come back to him.
The man towered over him and strangely, his head and shoulders seemed to be glowing; was it an optical illusion?
.
Oh, it was the sun silhouetting his outline. Long snowy hair hung down to his shoulders and white hair covered his chin and top lip.
He tried to smile at the sun lit vision, because he thought it was the Force coming to take him home.
No! This man's face was contorted in anguish and worry, and a funny notion occurred to him. If this was a Force spirit coming to claim him; his face wouldn't be filled with sadness, but with joy.
...
A flash of light cleared his brain, and suddenly he remembered what happened. It didn't occur to him that they already knew what had transpired, and he opened his mouth to tell them.
(I've been shot.) He wanted to say, but only a grating sound came from his throat and he drew in a breath. Pain erupted behind his tonsils and he suddenly felt like he was drowning.
He couldn't breathe and he coughed. Instinct told him not to panic, but the lack of air being drawn into his lungs overrode that impulse, and panic did fill him.
(I'm drowning, I can't breathe!)
.
Amidst the rising panic, his brain registered that someone was talking to him, but what was the use of listening if he couldn't answer back.
Firm hands put pressure on his chest and he looked down to see why. There was a hand resting over his heart and the man was saying, "layback - just relax."
Gentle pressure on his forehead pushed his head back.
.
He sensed the Force around him, and he sought it. There was a feeling of peace filling him and he did relax.
He could distinguish that there were people gathering around him. However, the more he tried to recognise them the more his sight waned, and soon all the shapes and colours blended into one big rainbow of blurred colour.
Pressure around his mouth sent fear shooting into his heart, and for an instant he thought they were preventing him from breathing.
It was a horrible sensation. However, a flow of cool air replaced his apprehension with gratitude as it pushed past his constricted throat, and sent much needed air into his lungs.
"Is he dead?" A distant voice asked.
"No, I've put pressure on the wound, but we must hurry and get him to the medical centre." Another voice answered.
.
In the fog of his confusion, he strained to understand their words. (Who is dead?) He wondered.
.
All of a sudden he felt like he was moving, and although he couldn't see through the blurry colours; he could hear the crunch of boots stepping onto hard ground.
It gave him the impression that an army was marching right past him.
His inquisitive nature, normally would give him pause to gaze at the soldiers, but feelings of weakness prevented him from even caring.
Ah! Now he could sense a serene voice calling to him. This one he'd recognised from his meditations.
It was the voice of the Force, it beckoned him to relax and follow the flow.
.
He was aware that the throbbing was fading away, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the sweet melodious tone of that voice.
It was soothing and comforting, and he knew without a doubt that he could trust that voice, and he relaxed.
Deep within him, he could sense that all would be well and he closed his eyes accepting the call to follow the flow.
..
000
..
~~Twenty minutes prior to the shooting~~
.
Master Qui-Gon Jinn gripped his com-link tightly; he'd unclipped it to call Master Yoda.
He hesitated, reluctant to hear likely condemnation and disappointment in Yoda's voice; knowing his wish was the exact opposite of Qui-Gon's.
He would not be held to ransom to do that which he did not feel inclined to do.
.
His heart pounded against his ribcage; certain he'd made the correct decision. His eyes were drawn to the sky, as he watched the Shuttle Sierra lift off from the now deserted shuttle port.
He couldn't take his eyes off the small insignificant craft. It wasn't anything extraordinary, or special! Just a grey commuter craft.
Yet, as it streaked into the atmosphere; decreasing in size the higher it climbed. He was overcome by a sense of weighty loss that spread through his body.
.
The sky was clear, the sun shone vibrantly, and for a brief moment; the sun's rays and the windows of the shuttle crossed paths.
A radiant gleam bounced off the Sierra, outwardly, winking back at Qui-Gon. His skin bristled and the hairs on his arms stood up on their ends.
The feeling wasn't at all a pleasant experience.
...
A few minutes ago, he'd sought nothing more than to be alone.
He'd deliberately achieved his desired result to convince and persuade his travelling companion that their journey together was over.
Now he felt ill at ease standing out in the open, even though his objective had been achieved and granted him his apparent goal.
.
In retrospect that concept made him feel even more uncomfortable than he imagined ever feeling.
His internal struggle to come to grips with his recent decisions had clogged his senses, and he failed to hear the approach of a dust storm.
.
Raging in across the shuttle bay, whipping around him; it took him by surprise. Blasting and battering him as he contended with this new problem.
Struggling to lift his hood up for protection from the biting particles; it took a few more moments to pull his robe around him.
Glancing across to the small insignificant shed that he and his companion had been in just a few minutes ago, was not inviting or appeared friendly.
Yet it beckoned him to return, like returning to the scene of the crime.
He shook those morbid thoughts from his mind. He'd committed no crime, maybe indifference, but that isn't a crime.
If a choice was available; the shed would be the last place he would go.
.
Nevertheless, this storm was blowing a gale and he'd had enough of walking through dust storms like this one, when he was Dooku's apprentice.
He hurried back into the room; closing the door and leaning on it.
Focusing his eyes on the bench where his companion sat while waiting for the Sierra to arrive, he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself and stretched his Force sense out toward the bench.
Residual pain and anxiety lingered all around the seat.
There was an aura of agitation flowing through the Force. A perplexing sensation - for he'd been certain that he'd done the right thing, but maybe the Force thought he could have used his skills as a diplomat with more finesse.
.
000
.
Dust particles battered the window pulling his attention away from the lonely seat to it, and he placed his hand on the pane, which brought back a memory concerning his former Master, Dooku.
They'd completed a tedious mission on some force forsaken planet, and the people they'd been sent to help had warned them of an approaching dust storm.
It bore down on them as quickly as this storm was doing now.
Qui-Gon envisioned that the sensible option would have been to wait until the storm passed before they left the village.
He was not fond of sand or dust and had no desire to trudge through it and then spend the next few hours extracting the tiny particles from his hair and clothes.
However, Dooku was adamant that they forge on, and would not consider waiting for the storm to abate.
.
On the verge of becoming a knight, Qui-Gon felt he could question his master about his decision to traipse through a storm when it wasn't necessary.
A strong willed apprentice; he would disagree with his master whenever it seemed appropriate or if it was something that Qui-Gon deemed was in their best interests.
Master Dooku, however, wasn't a man who took kindly to having his authority questioned, which saw them at loggerheads on many occasions.
Dooku had a habit of making Qui-Gon feel insignificant in his presence and out of stubbornness, even when Qui-Gon was right; Dooku would do the opposite.
Consequently, as they were making their way back to their ship through the blinding blizzard; Qui-Gon pointed out to Dooku that they were off course, and were heading in the wrong direction.
He remembered the biting words they'd exchanged in the heat of the moment.
Words that caused Dooku to obstinately continue in the wrong direction, only to end up passing the same burnt out building that they'd passed before.
He'd told his Master that he was arrogant and stubborn and that he'd be thankful to the Force once he achieved knighthood.
He also expressed his opinion that he thought Dooku should refrain from teaching anymore students if he couldn't focus on the 'here and now,' or allow his senior padawan to question his decisions.
It was the final straw for Qui-Gon and he petitioned the Council to let him take the trials as soon as they returned to the temple.
Qui-Gon shuddered bringing his thoughts back to the present, when he realised that it was a dust storm like this one that had seen his apprenticeship to Dooku end and Dooku's eventual resignation from the order.
.
000
.
Now, standing in this room thinking about a boy whom he'd spent only a few days with brought to mind something he swore he'd never do.
Never would he deliberately make someone feel less than they were, or be insensitive to their feelings as his master had done to him.
.
A burning shame filled him when clarity confirmed he'd committed that erroneous sin to a confused and distressed Obi-Wan Kenobi.
A twig hit the window, bringing him out of his musings and he flipped open his com-link; it was time to inform the Council.
.
The Padawan receptionist put him on hold while he transferred the call.
He paced back and forth purposely keeping his eyes away from that bench, impatiently waiting to be connected to Yoda who was in a Council meeting.
Glancing back at the window a smile lit up his usual stern expression when he noticed the storm abating, it had only been a few minutes since he'd come back in here, but it felt like a lifetime.
He supposed he could wait until he got back to Coruscant to tell them of his decision, but for some reason he felt it was important to let them know as soon as possible.
.
000
.
"Master Yoda here?"
"Master Yoda, this is Qui-Gon; I'm still on Bandomeer and as you already know, our transport, the Monument was attacked by pirates. We secured the ship and arrested several pirates, but we were late in getting to the planet. The mission that I was sent here to mediate on has been postponed until next month."
"Yes spoken to the Delegates, the council has." Yoda said.
"I know you presumed that I would change my mind and take Obi-Wan Kenobi as my apprentice. However, with all due respect to you and the Council, I feel it isn't in my best interest to take on another apprentice. I believe I've followed the will of the force as I see it, and I sent initiate Kenobi to the Agri-corps. I will be returning to Coruscant on the next available flight."
.
Qui-Gon felt a touch of relief fill him getting that of his chest, but he was taken aback at the coldness in Yoda's response.
.
"Never where young Obi-Wan was concerned, did you follow the will of the Force. That boy was your last hope Qui-Gon. Bring you back from the brink of darkness he was destined to do. The force is strong in Obi-Wan, and meant to be your padawan he is, and know it you do."
"Master Yod…"
"Interrupt me you will not! Much he will sacrifice in his lifetime, sense it I do, but know this Qui-Gon save you he would."
"I don't need saving!" Qui-Gon snapped.
"Bitter and insensitive you have become and if change your ways you do not, down the same path as your old Master you will travel."
.
"Dooku, how can you compare me to him? He is conceited and selfish and he almost ruined my chances of becoming a Knight. You of all people knew how manipulative he was, and he has turned his back on the Jedi order to serve himself and satisfy his own desires."
"Speaking of Dooku, or yourself are you? Your indifference to Obi-Wan's future is no different of that which you speak. A great Jedi I foresee him becoming under your tutelage. Nothing but darkness for the future, your decision will cause."
"That's why I didn't take him Master Yoda. He is hot headed and I feel that if he's trained he will end up going down the same dark path as-"
"Silent you will be! Of the light Obi-Wan is. Hear disparaging words about him from you I will not!" Yoda said cutting off communications with Qui-Gon.
...
Qui-Gon felt like he'd been slapped hard, Master Yoda had never spoken to him with such disapproval before.
It made him feel like he'd just swallowed a rope and it was knotting itself in his stomach.
His initial reaction was a feeling of indignation.
Heat rose and congregated in his chest like a bad case of indigestion. Why should he be the one to feel like he'd done something wrong?
If Yoda thought so highly of Obi-Wan, then why did he send him to Bandomeer?
.
Qui-Gon put his communicator in his pocket and in his frustration waved his hand out vigorously in front of him.
The door flew open with the power of the Force slamming hard against the wall. He stormed out and headed for the main spaceport just around the corner.
Every step he took, bitterness filled him. He'd made the right decision! He didn't want to risk taking another apprentice after the failure of his last one.
Even so, Yoda's words about Dooku reverberated in his head.
He was nothing like his old master, how dare Yoda compare them as being the same.
.
His resentment built as he strode around the corner; umbrage turned to disgust when he saw how busy the spaceport was.
He was in no mood to be patient and he pushed past people who were doing exactly what he wanted to do, get off the planet.
.
"Hey watch it fella; who do you think you are? We were here first so wait your turn!" A man said, glaring at him as he tried to push past.
He felt his ire at the whole situation bubbling just under the surface and he was almost going to tell the man just who he was, and that he would be wise not to get in his way.
Abruptly, Yoda's words came rushing back at him. (Bitter and insensitive you have become and if change your ways you do not, down the same path as your old Master you will travel.")
He stood towering over the man who'd berated him a few seconds before, and he suddenly realised he'd lost control of his emotions. He needed to back off and clear his head and remember the 'here and now.'
"My apologies, please forgive my rudeness," he said bowing stiffly to the man who had no intention of backing down.
He didn't wait to hear the man's response, he had to clear his head and think about everything that had transpired.
People were pushing and shoving one another, as a voice rang out over the loudspeaker that those with tickets were being loaded now for the next flight to Coruscant.
.
Qui-Gon heard the call and frowned. He hadn't bought a ticket yet; nor had he arranged for a pass as a Jedi ambassador, which usually got him on board at no cost.
Frustration bubbled under the surface pushing a range of unpleasant emotions through his body.
.
The last fifteen minutes were stretching into becoming the worst minutes of his life and he felt a strong feeling of guilt and regret fill him.
Pushing through his erratic thoughts a subtle, but persistent warning flowed through the Force, one that he wanted to brush aside.
He wasn't in the mood to listen to the machinations of the Force telling him that he'd made an error in judgement.
He glanced back in the direction of the small shuttle bay port. He could go back there to that room and meditate on exorcising his dark and distasteful emotions -Yes that's what he should do.
Nevertheless, getting back round the corner was going to be harder than he thought.
.
The vague disturbance he'd felt was growing stronger and gazing across the public space he noticed several men arguing in the middle of the forecourt.
Two against one, not a fair exchange, as one of the two shorter men was poking a taller distinguished looking gentleman with long white hair and a white beard in the chest.
He could not grasp why the altercation in progress would be causing the sinking feeling racing through his body.
There was a disturbance, but in his frame of mind it confused him to the point of distraction. Was it the altercation, or something else causing this disturbance he felt?
.
Nevertheless, his attention was drawn to their argument, which was becoming quite heated and he noticed one of the men resting his hand on what appeared to be a holster.
Qui-Gon glanced around the busy spaceport, worrying that the quarrel would escalate into a blaster battle and possible fatalities; if someone didn't intervene.
In the distance behind the large crowd he could see security guards, but they were too far away and would have difficulty getting through the crowd if trouble erupted now.
His aggravation rose to a peak at their arguing; because in his state of mind he didn't want to sort out their problems now that he realised he had major problems of his own to sort through.
Though, at this point, as a Jedi it was his job to keep the peace even though his mind was elsewhere.
.
The warning baffled him; one part of his mind said it was off in the distance, but he couldn't distinguish what the Force was telling him and he struggled to keep his mind on this 'here and now' and the situation in front of him.
He kept his sabre hidden from view; not wanting to cause more problems as he made his way through the ever increasing pushy crowd. The white haired man was arguing with one man, and the other seemed agitated; waving his hand toward security. As he came closer he could hear the aggravation in their voices.
He sensed a threat that someone may die, if he didn't stop their argument from escalating.
Tbc...
