Sorry for the failed first attempt to publish this chapter. A weird glitch happened somewhere between the word processor I use and transferring it to here.

Obi-Wan had had his fair share less-than perfect awakenings, but suddenly finding oneself in zero-G was not one he would like to experience again.

At least before, he had known which way was up. Now, the only thing he was sure of was that he ached all over. It wasn't until he was securely situated in the escape pod bench that the world started to make a small bit of sense again.

"Master, why are you sideways?" Obi-Wan mumbled, confused.

Qui-Gon spun to face him, aligning with his apprentice until Obi-Wan felt as if he were standing up as well. A wave of swaying disorientation slammed into Obi-Wan. So much for the world making sense.

"We're in an escape pod, there's no artificial gravity, so it's zero-G. You're disoriented, close your eyes." Qui-Gon said patiently.

"I don't understand."

"There is no gravity here, I am neither sideways nor upright. Don't try too hard. Imagine yourself floating in a pool."

Obi-Wan tried to find something to anchor his sense of direction on, but found so much contradiction that he had to stop looking. Feeling rather nauseous, he shut his eyes tightly and focused on the feel of the fabric cushions under his head. His master was saying some gibberish about ups and downs and concussions and directions, but at least Obi-Wan knew the padding he was pressing his head into was real.

Qui-Gon's hand was suddenly holding his, and his voice broke through the confusion. "Obi-Wan, I need you to focus on me. Can you do that?"

Nodding was out of the question, so Obi-Wan squeezed his hand in reply. The simple action somehow amplified his agony, making him almost lose focus on his master.

"Listen to me, padawan, you're hurt, you're chaotic."

Obi-Wan sarcastically thought 'oh really?'

Qui-Gon seemed less than amused. Obi-Wan chanced opening his eyes, but instantly regretted it when the world started looping around him. He forced himself into a breathing meditation. Nothing but a steady, measured rhythm of breath. It seemed like forever before he finally achieved an acceptable level of control.

After a while, Qui-Gon's hand left. His long over-cloak rustled as he soared away across the tiny spacecraft. He heard him shrug off the cloak and tie the floating mass of fabric to a wall fixture, more of an obstacle now without gravity. Obi-Wan could tell his master was concerned. He inquired with his mind, and found a third, vaguely familiar, presence in the escape pod.

Obi-Wan spoke, feeling grounded for the first since waking up. "How is the pilot?" he asked, understanding the third mind he had sensed.

"Alive, just barely. He needs bacta," Qui-Gon said from opposite the pod.

"There should be a supply somewhere here."

"Some cream and two bandages, that's all," Qui-Gon reported.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, despite his disorientation. On the other side of the small pod, he could see Qui-Gon leaning over Oak, who was secured in a bed similar to the one Obi-Wan was in. His face was as grey as his pilot's uniform, which now hung dark with blood. Qui-Gon's expression was dark, clearly not optimistic about Oak's chances.

"That's not much bacta to work with," Obi-Wan remarked.

"Don't trouble yourself, i'll take care of it." Qui-Gon launched himself back to Obi-Wan, flipping upside-down to Obi-Wan. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes to block out his master's confusing antigravity way of navigating the pod.

Qui-Gon voice was a carefully measured calm, soothing Obi-Wan as he tried to assess his injuries. Obi-Wan instinctively tried to reach out for him, and found himself restrained to the bed. He moved his arms, and one protested in pain. He was able to keep his response to a small gasp, but he could still sense his master's concern. He felt the sleeve of his robe being carefully pushed up. Qui-Gon's gentle banter stopped, and he breathed in sharply.

"Your arm needs aid, and I don't envy your concussion," Qui-Gon said. The familiar crinkle of a bacta bandage wrapper jarred Obi-Wan's headache further. "I'm going to bandage your arm," Qui-Gon warned his padawan.

"But what about the pilot? He's much worse off." Obi-Wan asked.

"He'll just have to hope we are rescued soon." Qui-Gon had removed the shiny outer packaging, and searched the inner sterile seal for an opening tab.

Obi-Wan stopped Qui-Gon with his good arm. "You mean you're not going to help him?!" Obi-Wan said incredulously.

"No, you are just the greater priority."

"Greater priority?! That boy is a citizen, a servant of the Republic-"

"-and you are training to be a jedi," Qui-Gon said, "a knight of the peace-"

"-and you consider him a lesser priority?!"

Obi-Wan's thoughts were finally running in nice, neat trains. He glanced over at the other bed. Oak was clearly in need of attention.

"Master, you can't favor me over him."

Qui-Gon reached out to smooth out Obi-Wan's hair tenderly.

"I can wait until a rescue party comes, I'm in no danger," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon's voice was full of concern. "Padawan, I can't let you suffer."

Obi-Wan looked away. It would be so easy to do nothing, to accept the kindness his master was offering. But he had a duty to Oak. Obi-Wan sighed. "Promise me, master."

"Promise you what?"

"Promise me you'll do everything you can to save Oak, including-" he gave his master what he hoped was a stern look, "-giving him all the bacta."

"Obi-Wan,"

"He'll die without it, master."

"So might you."

"That's a lie, and you know it," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon's eyes were full of care and concern. The silence of space filled the pod for a long moment.

"Please, master, save him for me."

"For you, my padawan, I promise."