//Padawan, come here please//
Startled, the boy stopped dead in his tracks, after a moment he took a deep breath and flopped himself down on the bench beside Qui-Gon.
//You must regain your focus and centre, Obi-wan. Panicking will do nothing for your friend and will only hurt you in the end. I know it is difficult, but you should try a meditation.//
//Yes, Master. I will try.// He felt a twinge of pride as he watched the boy pull his legs up under himself and move into a meditation position right there on the hospital waiting bench. After two padawans he had discovered that much like sleep, children could meditate anywhere. Well, they would try, anyway. By a similar estimation, meditation didn't come easily and naturally to them usually until middle adolescence. Unlike his first two apprentices, however, Obi-wan truly wanted to achieve a state of calm; he was never quite satisfied with his own natural abilities, wanting to emulate his Master as much as he possibly could.
That last came as a thought newly-arisen in Qui-gon, as if rising to the surface after months of existence in his unconscious. That was the fundamental difference in Obi-wan, the thing he couldn't quite put his finger on all these months, the undefinable something that had made him itch in discomfort at the very beginning of their relationship. There was an innocence about Obi-wan that jedi children seldom retained; it was trained out of them. Not intentionally, but rather as a by-product of the rest of their training, they attained a preternatural calm at the cost of childish optimism and excitement.
But Obi-wan, Obi-wan watched with an entirely different level of attention. Qui-gon was valiantly trying to put a name to something he had never seen before but nonetheless recognized. What was it about the boy?
Obi-wan looked to him not only as an example of how to be a Jedi, but as an example of how to be a man, an adult. The sudden realization nearly turned his internal organs to blocks of ice while simultaneously melting something within his heart. Curious, he thought almost distractedly. Apparently fear and exhilaration, shock and calm, can exist at the same time.
Force curse the council for sending us on this mission. They had to have know, they had to have seen...
His rather unjedi-like thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the B'disth medical facilitator. Both Master and apprentice were on their feet and waiting expectantly for news before the being had a chance to make visual contact.
"Ser di Jinn, I am Talika the Medical facilitator for this resort. I understand you are waiting to hear news of young Ev'lee?"
"Yes," he replied, resting his hands on Obi-wan's shoulders, giving a slight squeeze. "We were with her when she was brought in and are concerned. She is a friend of my son Ben. What is her condition?"
"Well, I'm afraid she is still unconscious, with no immediate signs of waking. Her vitals are stable, but weak. We cannot determine at this time what caused her current condition."
Cannot or will not? Obi-wan thought, slightly despaired. How could they go this far? Will they do this to others? His internal voice quieted. Will they do this to me?
He felt a squeeze on his shoulder, a large hand running over his hair and a tendril of comfort through the force.
//Not if I can help it, little one.//
For some reason that made Obi-wan want to cry, but he didn't, instead he turned his attention to Talika. "Is she going to be okay?"
"It's unknown at these time." She noticed him just long enough to answer and then gave her attention back to Qui-gon. "I've asked Ser Mi'read to go back to his rooms, that his presence isn't required. He appears rather obstinate about the suggestion. It really would give us more space to work with Ev'lee...perhaps you would speak to him?"
Obi-wan's jaw dropped open in spite of himself. //Master! What does she mean? Why is she being so strange?//
//Every species is different, Padawan, it does not mean they are strange.//
//Yes Master//
"Talika, I'm afraid my speaking to him would be of no use. Mi'read is from a culture where parents are very attached to their children. We cherish them and worry when they are hurt. We love our children, not just give them life, but raise them. I don't believe he will be persuaded to leave her side by anyone."
"Forgive me, Ser di Jinn, I am still adjusting to the strange off-world ideas that are brought here."
"You do not love your children, Ser Talika?" Obi-wan asked, taking advantage of his position to ask questions that may be thought impertinent from his Master.
"We do not raise our children. We B'disth fertilize the embryos as a pair, but then they are left to the hatcheries to grow or not, as nature wills. It is not in our nature to form . . . attachments with our offspring. It is a biological imperative, nothing more. So you can see why your ways take some adjustment for us. But it is our emperor's wish to understand foreign emotions, as emotional harvesting is the heart of our society. My apologies, I tend to talk far too much." Talika gave what Obi-wan believed was a smiled.
"The child won't be awakening any time soon, if she does at all. There is no need for you to stay."
"Of course, we will take our leave. Will you tell Mi'read that we send our best?"
"I will." With that Qui-gon turned towards the door and held a hand out to Obi-Wan. The boy took his hand and Qui-gon noted how his own hand seemed so massive, or was it that Obi-Wan's was so small? Had it always been that small? Why had he never noticed before?
Perhaps because he had never held his Padawan's hand before, he realized. Giving Obi-Wan's hand a small squeeze Qui-Gon vowed that that would change.