Shanobi I'm sorry it disturbs you...on to more lighthearted fare, like Cadence. Hee hee. But I'm very glad to know you're reading!
Ewan's girl You're very sweet. Thank you.
CYN I guess I should've mentioned that it was a multi-part story. That was a little misleading, leaving it there. But I was so flattered to read that it could've worked as a stand-alone. That made my day. ï
Seria23 Thank you!
I think this site is a hotbed for spyware. I swear, my computer is murdered by this place. Hopefully that problem will be solved for awhile... Hope you guys like the new chapter. It's short, but I'm going on vacation starting Thursday, so I wanted to give what I had so far.
OA trio of spindly, crimson fingers were splayed across Obi-Wan's forehead, searching for the unnamed poison absorbed in his system.
Qui-Gon and Yoda sat in tense audience. Healer Me'orah was a centuries-old expert, an adept of psychology from birth. His willowy form was bent over the bed in such a way that he appeared to be boneless, a tunic flowing from skeletal shoulders to jutting ankles. His inspection was entering its second, silent hour, and Qui-Gon knew that his fingernails would gut into the flesh of his palms before it was done.
The eldest member of the Order watched with heavy eyes, a solemn tiredness surrounding his drooping countenance.
Qui-Gon stole an occasional glance at the sage, but had yet to muster the courage to speak-to ask the thing he dreaded most. So they were planted in a web that suffocated their speech and bound their minds to the same shadowed thoughts. It was another hollow of Hell. How he wanted to scream, but what little strength he had.
Narrowly escaping a third cycle of grinding minutes, Me'orah took a step backward, released a breath, and turned his crisply yellow eye to the others. "There is enormous brain activity."
He wasn't awash with relief or shock. "What?" Qui-Gon's forehead crinkled. "What do you mean?"
"Your apprentice is wide awake. His eyes aren't dead-staring, Master Jinn. He's seeing something we can't."
Qui-Gon's gaze flickered to Obi-Wan. "Hallucinations?"
Me'orah brought his hands together in a placid clasp. "I don't believe so. From young Kenobi's files, I've gathered that he has a sharp sensitivity to prescience. Master Yoda supports this, and has informed me that you have acknowledged the gift as well."
"Yes. I've trusted his skills with foresight. He's rarely been wrong." Qui-Gon shook his head, "But he's never suffered catatonia as a side-effect."
Yoda straightened, flaccid ears flattening against his head. "Never have his predictions been so clear. So great in their span and potential impact."
The Healer nodded. "What I can surmise is that this latest vision has been severely difficult for him to digest. His mind is in over-drive, and has shut down most everything else in order to cope. Including mental connections. He's making it so that what he sees is exclusive to him."
Qui-Gon pressed his fingers to his temple. "Why would he do that? Why wouldn't he allow me to share the knowledge?" They were questions snuffed out by a horrible, blossoming understanding. He remembered walking beside Obi-Wan, a lifetime or a month before, the soft glow of space spreading delicate blue on their skin. He remembered the strain of the young features.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Yes. Obi-Wan had revealed his misgivings, but so quickly Qui-Gon had dismissed them, as though his Padawan were a child fearing the scent of coming rain.
"Force," He uttered, dropping his head in his hands. The guilt ravaged his insides. "He tried. He did try, Masters. But I wasn't listening. My concentration was completely elsewhere. On Naboo, on the damned Federation. Everywhere but him." The moisture had been sucked dry from his mouth, and his voice was left as a husk. "And now he won't let me listen, will he?"
Me'orah's lips set in a hard line. "We don't know that for certain, Master Jinn. He's in the first stage of what could be a long process. There could come a time of acceptance for him, and afterward, he might lower his shields."
Without solace, Qui-Gon turned his eyes to the wall, away from the accusation he imagined on two faces, and the vacuity he knew would be held on the other. "But none of this is guaranteed. Is it?"
A sigh. "No. Not so early in. I know it sounds unfathomable, but in this case, we must...we must wait and see."
"Wait and see." Qui-Gon mocked in a whisper. The weariness was bleeding into his tone, and he knew it. "And how long will you permit the wait to last?"
The
lone, oily saffron eye blinked. "As long as it takes."
Qui-Gon stood. "Then that's how long I'll wait with him. When he's ready, I'll be there."
"And what of young Skywalker?" Yoda wondered with a touch of sad rebuke. The Master had been against Anakin's Jedi training, and though Obi-Wan's sudden affliction had drawn attention away from that specific controversy, the topic had obviously never been dropped from his mind.
In truth, Qui-Gon had forgotten, once the boy was taken to Coruscant when it was certain that Obi-Wan would not be prepared for transport for some time. "Anakin will need a few years of general study before he is at the proper level for a Padawan Learner. He can remain with me, since it will be a difficult transition for him. But for now, Obi-Wan is still my apprentice." He turned then, to run his hand down the soft auburn spikes, "It was a mistake to ever deny that. I must be given the chance to mend it. If this is truly his injury, then he should be allowed to go home, to familiarity."
"In the Temple, he shall recover." Yoda confirmed. "But how long he will remain in the old quarters, decided it must be. For the well-being of all involved."
By this time, Qui-Gon was barely aware of the words. It was temporary victory, yet it would grant him the only thing he wanted.
He would be there.
O
