Chapter 3
Frozen
New Apsolon. 13 months ago.
They waited for Qui-Gon in the room next to the one where Tahl's body rested. Master Mace Windu and Padawans Bant Eerin and Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in silence. Qui-Gon Jinn had yet to appear, but they were patient, giving the grieving Jedi time. They all grieved in their own way. Bant for her Master. Mace Windu for a colleague and a friend. Obi-Wan was unsure what he felt, anymore. First, Tahl had passed away like a gentle summer wind. Obi-Wan had always liked her. Then there was Qui-Gon, who was not dead, but who neither looked nor spoke like himself. Who had lost interest in the living. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon's Padawan fell into that category. And there was Bant, hurt and unforgiving. Obi-Wan let his eyes drop to the floor. He was cold. Why wasn't his Master coming?
A droid appeared instead.
'The Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn has left,' it announced in its metallic voice. 'He requests that you proceed without him, from now on.'
No emotion whatsoever. Who needed emotions when the cold was overwhelming? Obi-Wan rose numbly to his feet. Mace Windu and Bant were already standing.
'Left,' repeated the apprentice.
He took a step towards the closed door where his Master had been.
'Left?'
Pain ripped through him. Obi-Wan stumbled. His injured leg buckled and he would have fallen if not for Mace Windu. The Jedi Master caught him by the shoulders.
'Obi-Wan, look at me.'
The boy obeyed.
'Is it your leg?'
Was it? Wasn't it healed? The ache spread. It came from higher up also, from his chest. Mace Windu's gaze grew dark.
'Has Qui-Gon severed the bond?' he asked.
Obi-Wan gasped. 'No…!' he managed to say before the agony stole his breath.
Fiery, throbbing pain, followed by the cold and the numbness. Mace Windu's grip on him tightened and shifted as the Jedi Master lifted the apprentice in his arms.
'Obi-Wan, breathe.'
The words seemed to come from a great distance. Obi-Wan lifted his head with an effort.
'Master?'
Windu's face was grim.
'It will be all right, Obi-Wan. You will be all right.'
Mace Windu turned towards Bant, who stood a few paces away.
'Come,' he ordered.
Coruscant. The Jedi Temple. Present.
'Walk with me, please?' asked Qui-Gon Jinn.
'It will be my pleasure.'
Qui-Gon paused to consider the youth. Indeed, will it be so? Silence hung between them like a living, uneasy presence. Qui-Gon stole a glance at his apprentice's face. White cheeks, lips pressed together in a hard line, downcast eyes. A closed, far off expression. Qui-Gon turned around and headed for a portal towards a more temperate place. Obi-Wan followed wordlessly. They had played here as children, both of them, at different times. They knew the layout more than by heart.
The garden that opened up before them was worm and glowing. There was water and flowers, here. Little streams ran between grass and bushes. Birds flew and sang. Obi-Wan should be more at ease, here.
They sat down on a bench, side by side, with no hint of ease between them as of yet. There was a frozen core in the boy, Qui-Gon realized, that had nothing to do with the winter outside. Something deep. Not dark, but the whisper of the Force was hushed.
'How are you, Obi-Wan?'
The boy discarded his warm coat.
'I'm fine.'
Qui-Gon schooled his features into a blank mask. A different answer would have been surprising, decided the Master. His apprentice blinked, then broke the gaze and turned to look straight ahead, at a grey brick wall.
'You didn't have to move out, Obi-Wan,' Qui-Gon said quietly. 'Our quarters are your home too.'
'No, they are not,' came the flat reply.
'Why not?'
'You tell me.'
It was the Master's turn to blink.
'Initiate Naat told me you're never at the initiate's wing, anymore. Are you well here, with the crèche Masters and the children?' Qui-Gon asked after a moment.
'Yes.'
Every line of the boy's body was taut with caution. Where was gone the initial joy at the sight of his Master?
'I will not force you to come back, if that is not your wish, Obi-Wan.'
The boy lifted his chin, eyes blazing.
'Good! Because you can't force me, Qui-Gon.'
Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance. Neither said a word for a time, until Obi-Wan shifted and some of the tension went out of him. He thawed a little.
'What happened?' Qui-Gon asked, motioning to the boy's leg.
The apprentice gave him a crooked half-smile.
'Gives the words 'journey towards knighthood' a whole new meaning, huh?'
'Obi-Wan, please, tell me.'
Obi-Wan squirmed, then sighed.
'Oh well. If I don't, you'll just go talk to the healers. Guess I might as well spare you the trip to their holly hell.' He realized he was rambling and sighed again, with displeasure and defeat. 'Permanent damage,' he said at last.
Qui-Gon turned with a start.
'What? How?'
Why? It can't be. It shouldn't be! Calm yourself, now.
Qui-Gon bent his roiling emotions to his will with a ruthlessness he had never used on any of his apprentices.
'You mean,' the Master said, taken aback, 'that that wound from New Apsolon…?'
He stopped. Tahl's memory swept between them like a knife and they both looked away. The bright garden dimmed. Grief surged and swelled, twisting Qui-Gon's heart in its grip. The Jedi struggled with the pain. His Padawan was there, right beside him, and the boy was more important than his despair. The boy was more important than the past. Should always have been. Qui-Gon caught his breath. He might be a Jedi Master, it did not make him perfect. Well, he reflected dryly, lets hope it makes me, at least, honest with myself. He saw that his Padawan looked at him, features shadowed with grief, sorrow and compassion. Qui-Gon could have slapped himself.
'But the healer, Yanci,' he stammered. 'She said you were healed.'
Obi-Wan shrugged. 'I guess I wasn't.'
'And the healers here?'
They were highly competent. There was something that could be done, surely.
Obi-Wan read his thoughts as clearly as if Qui-Gon had spoken aloud.
'No,' said the boy. 'There's nothing to be done.' He scowled. 'It's not like they didn't try.'
'Obi-Wan?'
His Padawan waved a tired hand, then flashed a sudden grin at Qui-Gon.
'I remember little of the first two months after Master Windu brought me here. The healers tried their best. I guess I should be grateful. But after three months of such… attention, one starts to feel the urge to grab one's lightsaber and chop limbs off. Starting with one's own.'
The boy's humor was like a tiny ripple on the surface of a dark pond. Underneath, Qui-Gon felt the hurt and the weariness so deep rooted that, for a moment, the winter's chill settled on the Master's soul as well. As if it had ever truly left.
Three months… Oh, Force!
Qui-Gon reached out to his apprentice. He touched Obi-Wan's cold cheek, then squeezed his knee, careful not to cause pain.
'I'm sorry, Padawan.'
Obi-Wan had held still under the touch. He scrambled to his feet at those words.
'You know what hurts the worst?' he asked, shrugging into his coat. 'That I can't even be angry at you. If our places were switched, I would have done exactly the same thing.'
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