Thanks for the comments on Brink! I really appreciate the time taken to review, follow, or favorite.
New Arrangements
By: Syntyche
Chapter Twenty-One
Qui-Gon Jinn was quite pleased that their second go at apprenticeship was so far shaping up much better than their first. It was due, perhaps, to the fact that he and Kenobi both were a little wiser now, a little more jaded, a little more aware of what the other was capable of.
Qui-Gon was developing a deep appreciation for the levels of raw power Kenobi possessed, and to this he wisely added a healthy dose of caution: he had, after all, seen Kenobi tear another living being apart with just a twitch of his finger, and had himself been almost killed by the unfortunate Padawan when Obi-Wan's former master had hijacked Kenobi's capacity to control the Force. It had been a gruesome and horrifying experience that Qui-Gon couldn't quite push out of his mind - nor did he want to. He had underestimated an apprentice before, and when the Padawan had turned it had shredded him, torn him inside out; and he had reacted by cutting off nearly all contact with the Jedi and even refusing to train any further students by himself, a task that had he previously looked forward to immensely.
But now he would teach again, and Qui-Gon couldn't deny that this time around, this attempt at helping to ground Kenobi firmly in the Light was both exciting and gratifying to him. The Master knew that the Padawan was strongly gifted with the Living Force, and Qui-Gon's own passion to teach had been reawakened; anything he could do to share that wondrous and beautiful gift with Kenobi filled him with renewed purpose and an inner joy that stricter Council members loudly opined he should not possess.
He would be cautious and he would be careful; he hadn't forgotten what he'd seen the young man do. He hadn't forgotten the Council's misgivings. And he hadn't forgotten the whispers of Darkness he'd sensed inside of Kenobi. Qui-Gon had decided that he would be tirelessly alert while also allowing his spirit to open up to Kenobi, a little and gradually, as he was now directly responsible for the Padawan, and Kenobi had much to make up in both discipline and training.
For his part, Obi-Wan Kenobi was slowly growing to gratefully welcome Qui-Gon's easygoing nature - the older Jedi's ready smile and boundless enthusiasm were new to the Padawan, as well as Qui-Gon's firm reliance on the Living Force, and his almost unbelievable commitment to patience: despite Kenobi's wary reticence of his own power and bubbling frustrations at not always being able to master his control, Qui-Gon never balked at trying just once more, Padawan! I know you can do it! which made Kenobi's brow furrow and demand of himself that he try even harder. Qui-Gon never scolded, never raised a clenched fist to him nor tore him down with words designed to denigrate and cruelly sharpened to wound. At times, Kenobi found he had to draw on deep inner strength slowly built over a half of a lifetime of abuse simply to keep humiliated tears from falling as his new master showed him yet another unaccustomed kindness.
Obi-Wan could not show Qui-Gon weakness - but not only that. The Padawan knew that he needed to be very, very careful not to allow too much of any kind of emotion to surface; permitting anything buried deep to erupt on the surface meant that his already cracked shields were further crumbling, splintering into unsalvageable pieces, and he would be lost within himself, hopelessly submerged beneath the fierce waves of his own guilt and shame and the horrors of what he'd done in his life, who he really was underneath.
He could manage it during the days, burying the thoughts deep within, but the nights were his undoing. He was cracking.
He was losing.
He wasn't strong enough to keep the Dark away…
And Qui-Gon would finally see the monster that was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
OoOoOoOoOo
It was with an unburdened ease that Qui-Gon had not expected, but gratefully welcomed, that he and Kenobi quickly fell into a routine. By day, they walked peaceful and sunlit paths beneath graceful trees while Qui-Gon expounded on the nature of the Force, and they watched the clear, rippling surface of the lake behind their cabin while Qui-Gon patiently taught proper techniques for effective meditation. He ignored Kenobi's restless fidgeting, and Kenobi ignored his sometimes overly preachy manner. They were both growing, both learning to be more comfortable around each other in small ways, and though Qui-Gon knew Kenobi kept much buried deep below his exterior shields, he also felt they continued to make progress, and this pleased him.
These were there days; calm, peaceful, and focused, filled with training and silly quips and wry headshakes at the other's expense.
Their nights, however, were hell.
Nighttime often found Qui-Gon rushing into Kenobi's room, strong arms slipping around the Padawan's shaking body, words of murmured comfort slipping from his lips into the darkness to try and break through the terror that had seized the younger man and turned him into a trembling and howling mess. Qui-Gon's thick fingers rhythmically stroked unkempt ginger hair soothingly and brushed frustrated and bitter tears from pale cheeks. He was exhausted, but he knew the Padawan was more so: Kenobi had not slept soundly through a night since he'd been retrieved from Rhagos on Garos. It was not a surprise, considering what had happened there, but each evening as the Padawan offered him a resigned good night and disappeared into his room, Qui-Gon fervently hoped that the day's teachings and mediation would be enough to keep away the nightmares that savaged Kenobi's sleeping mind, that this wouldn't the night Qui-Gon's own sleep would be sharply disrupted by his apprentice's distress.
So far, he was still waiting.
OoOoOoOoOo
The sun rose slowly, steadily, soaking into the cold ground and burning away morning dewdrops clinging to vibrantly ochre blades of grass. Though he had learned that Obi-Wan preferred sunsets and had enjoyed watching several of them with his apprentice, Qui-Gon still found that for himself, quietly observing the rising of the morning sun held more joy for him. There was a simple yet profound peace in the still of morning as slowly awakening counterparts of fading nightlife yawned and stretched and lifted their voices to welcome a new day.
It was in the calm of morning that Qui-Gon could order his thoughts, prepare for their day, and plan Obi-Wan's next lessons. It was simple, it was orderly, and it was all he could have hoped for from that first day when Yoda had informed him he would be taking on another Padawan, and no, he could not turn this assignment down.
Qui-Gon barely noticed the soreness in his knees as they loudly protested the length of time he had been kneeling; it hadn't really been a problem before, but his sleepless nights were beginning to wear him down, to dull the sharp edge of the reflexes he was so proud of. The Jedi Master ignored his complaining joints and the slight persistent burn across his shoulderblades from his hunched position, and focused instead on the unfolding birds' song and the gentle rustle of leaves twitching in the breeze. He was one with the Force, feeling it wash over him like the tingle of awakening senses that had been asleep but were now stirring. His eyes were closed, his breathing calm. He barely heard the gentle swish of the cabin door closing somewhere to his left as Obi-Wan headed out for his morning swim. Qui-Gon knew that Kenobi was trying hard to regain his strength while his body slowly healed, and the Padawan seemed to be most comfortable within the weightlessness of the cold water.
Qui-Gon could stay here for the rest of his life, and be content. He could stay knowing that he had lived and carried himself every day as a Jedi to the best of his beliefs and abilities. The Council would never allow it - the Order didn't really provide a retirement plan: Yoda was proof of that - but Force, how sweetly he wished it in this moment.
His focused meditation trailed away into wistful thoughts and he surprised himself by allowing his eyes to flicker open, finishing his morning devotional early. Qui-Gon rose, smiling ruefully at the muted popping and cracking noises accompanying the movements of stiff limbs realigning themselves, but instead of returning to the cabin as was his habit, he meandered instead down to the water's edge to check on his unaware Padawan.
Soft, damp grass cushioned his firm bootfalls as he strode to the small lake less than a kilometer from their cabin. He could see Kenobi knifing through the rippling water, his strong arms pulling his thin, lithe body through the motions of swiftly covering the distance from bank to bank.
"Good morning!" Qui-Gon called cheerfully, loud enough that he hoped Kenobi could hear him. Sure enough, Obi-Wan's head immediately lifted and his bright gaze settled on Qui-Gon as he slowed to tread water, wiping at his grey eyes with a dripping hand until he could squint clearly at his master.
"Good morning, Master," the Padawan returned promptly, then ducked back underwater to make directly for the shore where his towel, tunic and boots lay in a neat pile. Before Qui-Gon could reach the water's edge, Kenobi had hauled himself from the water and was shoving his arms through his tunic sleeves, pulling the garment onto his sodden body.
Qui-Gon lifted a pointed eyebrow. "You probably ought to have dried off first."
Kenobi had the grace to look abashed, coloring lightly as he often did when Qui-Gon teased him. The Jedi Master suspected it was part of Kenobi's built-in defenses, so he ribbed his new Padawan whenever the opportunity provided, slowly and persistently working him out of his shell. Qui-Gon shrugged, brushing Kenobi's embarrassment aside. "Hungry?"
A half-smile was his answer, along with a simple, "Of course, my esteemed Master."
Qui-Gon slung a companionable arm over Kenobi's shoulders that was meant to appear casual, but Qui-Gon had not seen Obi-Wan's cane with his belongings and correctly surmised the younger Jedi had left the despised walking aid back at the cabin. Qui-Gon applauded Kenobi's tireless efforts to work through the pain of his ravaged leg, but he could also see the lines of exhaustion already crumpling Obi-Wan's forehead into tight creases.
Qui-Gon steered them back toward their cabin, happily breathing in crisp morning air while his thoughts buzzed ahead to breakfast and the day's lessons. Once they reached the small abode, Kenobi excused himself to shower while Qui-Gon cheerfully engaged himself with puttering around the tiny kitchen. He still wasn't much of a cook, but tea and a lumpy sort of gruel would suffice for the morning.
As he was spooning hot gruel into shallow bowls, Kenobi clomped into the room, clean from his shower, shaggy hair still damp. He was leaning almost nonchalantly against his cane, trying with everything he had to look like he didn't need to.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon greeted cheerfully, collecting spoons and a small dish of berries. Kenobi flashed him a look of sublime innocence.
"My liege?"
A grin threatened to split the firmly pressed line of Qui-Gon's mouth into an amused expression he was trying desperately to hide, so he ducked his face behind the long curtain of his unbound hair as he deposited their meager breakfast onto the table. "Breakfast is ready," he announced.
Kenobi nodded, his lips twisting at the bland color of the gruel. "Thank you, your Highness," he returned politely.
Qui-Gon shot him a look. Kenobi, when he allowed it to show, possessed a dryly wicked sense of humor. "You can stop anytime, thank you."
A bow before Kenobi settled himself lightly on his chair. "As my Supreme Commander wills, so it is my wish."
Qui-Gon reluctantly spooned a mouthful of gruel past his lips. "You never give up, do you?" he questioned mildly.
A flash of determination crossed Kenobi's suddenly serious features. "Never," he said softly, reminding Qui-Gon that the Initiate raised carefully by the Temple was no longer; that always below the surface lived a young Padawan who had struggled to survive, who had done terrible things and had them done to him in return.
A fleeting chance for gentleness passed between them, and Qui-Gon knew that he had ignored opportunities like this many times before, with apprentices of his own and students he had taught. Times where he had obeyed the Council and kept himself reserved, distant, aloof, emotionless.
Not this time, however.
"May I?" he asked gently, gesturing toward the long damp strands curling around Kenobi's shoulder. A hesitant nod from Kenobi and Qui-Gon lifted himself from his chair to kneel beside the very still Padawan, and the Jedi Master carefully separated out the longest strands by Kenobi's right ear, deftly separating into three groups that he then worked into a thin plait. His hands shook as he worked and Qui-Gon marveled at their unusual unsteadiness in performing such a simple task, one he had undertaken many, many times in the past. The red and yellow beads seemed so tiny in his large palm, and he wondered what training milestones Kenobi had reached to achieve them.
"I should have done this for you many times before," he murmured softly, hoping his calm tone would ease the fine tremors trickling through Kenobi's wasted frame. "I thank you for the opportunity to do it now." Qui-Gon smiled. "I would be honored to attend to your Padawan braid anytime you wish."
Kenobi glanced at him, emotion flickering through his shielded gaze. No jokes, no deferral, just a quiet smile that genuinely reached his eyes in a way all of the facetious "I'm fine" smiles he usually affected never did.
"Thank you," Master Qui-Gon," he said humbly, and Qui-Gon quirked a tiny grin.
"You're welcome, Most Amazing of All Padawans."
Kenobi laughed honestly, and it was music to Qui-Gon's ears.
Qui-Gon plunked himself gracefully back into his chair, adding a few more sweet berries to his otherwise tasteless breakfast. "What shall we do today, Padawan?" he asked cheerfully, his grin stretching at Kenobi's longsuffering roll of the eyes.
"Oh, I don't know," Kenobi responded glibly. "Meditate, I suppose, and then … read, perhaps? Followed by tea and more meditation?" Kenobi's brow furrowed questioningly as he asked carefully, "Qui-Gon, is this what a sabbatical really is all about? It's so … " he hunted quickly for a polite term, gave up, and muttered, "boring," with a small wince of apology.
"It's about taking time for yourself," Qui-Gon chastised gently, laying a kind arm on Kenobi's shoulder. "It's about learning to be comfortable with who you've become, and discovering where you'd like to go."
Kenobi snorted darkly, all trace of emotion wiped from his features and demeanor.
"I will never be comfortable with who I am, Master Jinn," and his honest admission must have startled him because he added quickly, with one of those synthetic smiles Qui-Gon so loathed, "Your Imminence."
Qui-Gon had been waiting to discuss with Kenobi their frightening experience on Garos but had patiently been lookingfor the right opportunity. Kenobi's unexpected confession seemed like an open invitation from the Force, so Qui-Gon readily pounced.
"Why not, Padawan?"
Kenobi didn't even hesitate, the deception springing smoothly to his thinned lips. "Well, for one thing, I'm far too short… "
But Qui-Gon wouldn't give him the out he quietly scrabbled for. "That's not what you meant," he said sternly.
A sigh, and then smally, "I know."
"We need to talk," Qui-Gon added gently.
Under the table, Kenobi's knee started bouncing nervously. Even softer, "I know."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon pressed gently on Kenobi's knee to still the restless movement, but Kenobi resisted, clearly uncomfortable and unnerved, obviously stalling.
"Shall I make tea first?"
Qui-Gon easily saw the question for what it was: a chance for Kenobi to regain his equilibrium, to pull himself together. He allowed the kindness.
"That would be fine, Padawan, thank you."
Kenobi gratefully limped off to the kitchen, and Qui-Gon patiently listened to the sounds of the Padawan rustling around until he appeared a few minutes later, mask firmly in place as he struggled to look completely in control. His boot caught on a fold in the carpet and he staggered, almost recovered; but his damaged leg betrayed him and the tray clutched carefully in his hands sailed into Qui-Gon, who had half-risen when he saw the Padawan's trouble.
The tea was hot, of course, but it barely soaked through his outer clothes, and a reflexive "Ouch!" slipped from Qui-Gon at the contact. He saw Kenobi stiffen unconsciously as he fought to regain his feet, bracing himself for an angry onslaught: his grey eyes darkened and widened, and his breathing sped up to hitch rapidly in his chest.
"I'm sorry!" he whispered, hands lifted placatingly. "I'm sorry!"
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured gently, snatching a towel to soak up the worst of the liquid staining his front. "Please calm down."
Kenobi nodded miserably, struggling to breathe slowly but failing spectacularly. "I can't," he finally murmured brokenly, clutching his arms around himself tightly, swaying on his wounded leg, and Qui-Gon knew that as much and as hard as they had worked, Kenobi was still caught within the grip of the past and the master who had punished him severely for any infraction. "I can't, I'm sorry, I can't … "
"Come here," Qui-Gon said gently, spreading his arms, the long sleeves of his tunic sweeping outward. Kenobi's damp eyes looked at him questioningly but he clearly felt compelled to obey and he stepped hesitantly close to Qui-Gon; close enough that Qui-Gon could see the perspiration that beaded small trails down Kenobi's pinched face.
"Breathe," Qui-Gon chided gently, bringing his hand up to the back of Kenobi's neck and gently pressing the Padawan's trembling form against his large chest. "Just relax," he repeated softly, "breathe and be calm." He wrapped gentle arms around Kenobi's slight, shaking body.
So wrapped up was he in comforting his Padawan and so lost was Obi-Wan in his misery of memories that neither of them heard the outside door being swiftly pulled open, nor fully registered the new presence that joined them until a familiar voice - reviled and feared by one, disbelieving and hopeful by the other - broke into their shared moment.
"I confess that I am surprised to see my apprentice, whom I raised and trained so diligently and - I thought - well and thoroughly, could fall prey to such a blatant setup. Really, this pithy distraction was something this wretched creature should never have gotten past you."
Qui-Gon lifted his head quickly, the words not registering to his elated mind but the voice so, so familiar, and his stunned disbelief dissolved into unexpected joy; he didn't notice Kenobi stiffening fearfully within the circle of his arms, nor the dark, hateful look that crossed the Padawan's face - so wrapped up was the older Jedi in the bright, new, unmistakably familiar presence in the Force.
"Master," he smiled happily.
OoOoOoOoOo
You know, it's funny. Even at this point I am toying with ending this two ways; dark and memorable, or somewhat lighter and happier. Shrug. We'll see what the Muse thinks, I guess, and please feel free to review because the Muse is easily and randomly inspired by reader comments that often spin off entire new stories (such as naked and chocolate-covered Obi-Wan, sigh, coming soon). Thanks for reading!