DISCLAIMER: Much though I'd like to take over Star Wars and make it go the way I want it to, it ain't mine. Sob. Just wait until I regain my One Ring that allows me unlimited copyrights to all great stories! (For those of you who did not get that, read "Seriously? Why Me?" Currently Samwise Gamgee has it…)
By the way, I'd like to mention that the first chapter of this story has earned more reviews and alerts then the first several chapters of my LOTR story! Thank you to all my fans! You rock!
OK, now to the actual story… Hopefully it's as good as the first chapter!
Obi-Wan wearily sank onto a hard chair, struggling to keep his emotions in check. This time, Qui-Gon wasn't entirely to blame.
They had just returned from their mission to Lavisar, settling a dispute between two rival families. It wouldn't have gone too badly, except that Obi-Wan had made a crucial blunder during an espionage excursion. The peace keeping plans had blown up in the Jedi's faces, resulting in a huge gunfight that left six civilians dead and many others wounded. Qui-Gon had barely spoken to the teen since, a cold fury radiating from the older man that Obi-Wan could feel, even without the bond in place.
The Master hadn't been the only one angry with Obi-Wan though. After the battle, one of the surviving heirs to one family, a boy in his late teens, had taken it upon himself to inform the young Jedi just how much of a failure he was, and how much better he would be doing some mindless task in the Agri-Corps. Obi-Wan hadn't been able to escape without appearing to be even more of a failure, so he had been forced to remain still, allowing the torrent of verbal abuse to swarm over him, penetrating his brain. He had politely bowed when the man had run out of steam and walked away, holding his head high while feeling his inner being wither away. Like the perfect Jedi that I am not!
Yoda himself had met the Jedi team upon their return to the Temple. He had locked eyes with Obi-Wan for a moment before turning to Qui-Gon, allowing the teen to respectfully bow and go to his quarters. He was grateful for that, at least. He didn't want to hear his Master telling the Galaxy's most powerful Jedi about what a failure he was.
He knelt on the floor of the common room, his preferred place to meditate. He knew Qui-Gon would want him to think on his mistake and didn't want to do anything else that might possibly displease the already angry Jedi. He closed his eyes, trying to allow the Force to flow through him, relieving him of his agony and guilt.
The meditation didn't work as he had hoped. For instead of the feelings being released into the Force, they remained stubbornly bottled up inside of him, a festering wound that he couldn't heal. He kept reliving the moments of those innocent civilians dying, including Daran, a younger boy he had become friends with. The grief, anger, guilt and self-loathing all built up, causing tears to fall from his closed eyes. He was shaking from the pain but couldn't make it stop.
"Obi-Wan." The voice, cold with displeasure, drew him out of his trance. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Qui-Gon standing above him, looking every bit as angry and disappointed as it had on the flight back to Coruscant.
The teen lowered his head, a sign of shame. "Master."
"Yoda does not believe I need to speak with you about what transpired on Lavisar." The words were cold, precise, inflicting pain as easily as a blade. "I will respect his judgment in this matter."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan kept his head down, too ashamed to meet his Master's stony gaze.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Padawan."
The teen forced himself to look into Qui-Gon's eyes. "Yes, Master." He could hear the dullness of his own voice, in comparison to the harshness of the other Jedi's.
"You will remain confined to quarters for a month. I expect to see you in your spare time either studying or meditating on your folly. I do not expect to ever have this conversation again."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan didn't care that he sounded like a broken holo-recording. What else could he say? He definitely didn't want to anger his Master any farther.
Qui-Gon nodded tersely. "Go to your room and meditate. I do not wish to see you for the rest of the night."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan got to his feet and trudged back to his own room, feeling his Master's disapproving glare directed at his back. He didn't dare stop to speak, but sent the thought along their weak bond, /I'm sorry/. As he expected, he got no reply.
In his room, he shoved his pack, still containing his few possessions he had taken on the mission, under his bed, not feeling the urge to put anything away. Something shiny fell out, and he bent to investigate it.
It was a small dagger, made of steel, sharp as a razor. It had been a gift from Daran before the gunfight broke out. It now glimmered in the dim light, reflecting Obi-Wan's sorrowful face on the smooth surface. He twirled the knife around on his fingers, hissing as the blade slipped, effortlessly tracing a clean line down his arm. The skin was soon red with blood.
Obi-Wan looked at the blood, unconsciously checking to make sure his mental shields were well up. He did not want Qui-Gon seeing this. He wasn't sure why, but he felt it would anger his Master even more. It was a dread he could neither explain nor shake off.
He studied the way the red fluid traced its way down his arm, crossing over the older lightsabre scars. He hadn't bothered to put any bacta on those wounds, allowing them to heal on their own. They were still scabbed over; indeed, a couple had reopened from the knife's impromptu journey through the new skin. But the fiery pain was something he welcomed; it distracted him, as least for a moment, from the emotional agony. And the knife wound…
It was doing the same thing as the lightsabre injuries. The pain seemed to be ebbing away with the bleeding. It made him feel… good… in a guilty sort of fashion. Something in the Force was pricking at him, trying to warn him of something, but the blessed relief from the mental wounds was so overpowering, Obi-Wan didn't bother listening. The Force hasn't helped me, anyways. Why should I listen to it?
Footsteps sounded outside his door. He quickly hid the knife in the folds of his tunic, kneeling in a meditative stance. Quickly settling into a trance, he became aware of Qui-Gon opening the door and poking his head into the room. Evidently satisfied that his wayward Padawan was obeying him, for once, the Master retreated, unaware that Obi-Wan had sensed his every move and his lack of comfort.
I know what I did was stupid! I'm sorry! Why won't he accept that? Force, what do I have to do to show him it was just a stupid mistake that got out of control? Another mission and he probably wouldn't have noticed! Does he truly hate me that much? Can he not trust me one iota? Obi-Wan checked the last statement; he didn't even trust himself. No wonder his Master didn't have any faith in him, especially after that mission. I am such a failure. Qui-Gon would be better off if I wasn't here. Would he even care if I were to die?
His stomach roared. He hadn't eaten anything for the last two days. If he were to be honest, he didn't care. He had no desire to even continue living. He drew the knife out of his tunic again, reverently holding the blade near him. The sharp edge rested on his skin, just touching the veins visible in his wrist.
He tightened his grip on the dagger. He could do it. He could rid the Galaxy of the worst nuisance to ever exist. He could relieve his Master of the obviously unwanted burden placed in his care. Yoda said this relationship was unhealthy, and Obi-Wan placed the blame squarely on his own shoulders. It would be better for everyone involved…
The thought of Yoda made him hesitate. Would the Jedi Master advise this choice? Would Obi-Wan fail his idol like this?
No, he finally decided. I cannot take this route; at least, not until I have no other choice. I will not fail Master Yoda. He hid the knife under his mattress, shaking. He could not believe he had nearly committed an action no self-respecting Jedi would dare to do. Trembling from the emotional overload, he crawled into bed, not bothering to change. As an afterthought, he used the Force to turn off his light.
The darkness swarmed over him, suffocating, inviting with its promises of relief and freedom. Obi-Wan moaned, trying to evade the whispers of the shadows. Join the Force! Be at rest!
I cannot! It would displease Master Yoda!
Since when has Yoda thought anything of you? Would any Jedi acknowledge your death? You are not loved and you know it!
Shut up! Leave me alone! Just go away!
Go away? Ha! We will never go away, little Jedi! You will never be free of us unless you join us!
No! Obi-Wan brought his pillow over his head, trying desperately to drown out the voices.
The last thing he heard before the nightmares took him was, You will come to us, eventually. We will have you.
I know, Qui-Gon is a little harsher in my story then in the books and movie, but I still needed him to be fairly nasty. And in any case, he wouldn't have been thrilled with Obi-Wan after a screw-up like that. Heck, I wouldn't be very happy with myself if I did that.
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To be continued…
/XS\