A/N: Hello there... I did it. I finally wrote that stuff. I have always wondered how Obi-Wan must have felt in the Phantom Menace, after being somewhat "pushed away" by his former master and then promising Qui-Gon to train Anakin. I really like Qui-Gon, but now that I'm older I realize even more how harsh and unfeeling it might have been. Thank the Force Obi-Wan is a dutiful, committed and compassionate Jedi, but there's plenty of room for fanfiction!
So this is it. A seven-chapter story where I play with our favourite characters, and twist the plot a tiny bit. I am going to post it every weekend, so as to keep a silver line in these times of confinement. I hope you enjoy this. Take care, much love, Meysun.

There is no Pain

(I Tilled the Sorrows of Stones)

A Star Wars Fanfiction

Chapter One : Promises.

The hangar reeked of burnt metal, powder, blood and oil – the heavy price of victory. Padmé had seen battle, had seen death, but she was unspeakably grateful for the mask she always had to wear, the way her face somehow disappeared behind the complicated frame of her hair and the painted scar of her lip.

She did not break – there was far too much hope for this. There was far too much work for this. Nute Gunray was finally a prisoner. The blockade was destroyed. The Gungans had fought heroically – and there was so much to build here, so much trust to regain still, bridges to gap, people to honour.

And there was Anakin. That sunny, reckless child from that dry, sandy, ruthless planet, who had flown through cruisers and missiles to blow up the Generator, leading them all to victory, and who was now running towards her, face streaked with dirt and beaming.

"We won, we won!"

And Padmé relented. Allowed Anakin to forget once more that she was not just Padmé Naberrie, but Queen Amidala – allowed him to jump into her arms and to squeeze her waist – because he had given them their freedom and was not even aware of it. It had all been just a game to him, and for that innocence, Padmé was grateful.

"Yes, Ani", she whispered, fiercely fighting back tears. "We won."

There was so much to do. The wounded and dead were laid on stretchers – there was still hope for some, there would be only grief for the others. She left the hangar, assured herself that Gunray was still heavily guarded, and listened to Boss Nass' report about the battle, Ani still hoovering like a tiny shadow at her side.

The holoprojector had just been switched off – she had just closed her eyes for a few seconds, thinking that it was done, when hushed, fearful whispers reached her and she found her guards parting, making room for the young Jedi Padawan.

Obi-Wan. His name was Obi-Wan. She should have remembered it, but it kept slipping from her mind – he was so discreet, she kept forgetting he was actually there, and yet many a time it had been his blue, clear blade that had parried blaster bolts, saving her men's lives.

There was no blue blade this time, though – and she understood the hushes, the fear instantly. The man that stood before her now was not the young and somewhat boyish Jedi apprentice. There was no gentle light in his gaze, no softness in the quiet way he held himself, not anymore.

Obi-Wan's pale face was mottled with scratches, there was a crust of blood still oozing slightly from his temple, but the worst were his eyes.

They looked so empty. So grey.

And Padmé knew, then. There was no need for her to ask, not when the young Jedi seemed to sway where he stood, even though he was completely still, head bowed, hands curled quietly at his sides.

"Where is Qui-Gon?"

The crystalline, childish voice of Anakin broke the heavy silence and Padmé shuddered, because pain just seemed to curl around the young Jedi. And yet he still lifted his head, and his soft voice managed to voice the unspeakable.

"Your Highness… Anakin… Master Qui-Gon fell."

His voice barely hitched but his face seemed to turn to stone even more. Anakin opened his mouth, but this time Padmé took pity on the Jedi and placed her hand on his lips, drawing him against her.

"The Sith lord was killed. But Qui-Gon was taken back to the Force. I am so very, very sorry. I… I need to… Is there somewhere I could… I need to tend to his – I need to tell the Council. And I need to…"

He could not go on, despite his still posture, despite the quietness in his face and looks. And Anakin cut him anyway, with a terrible, heart-breaking scream.

"NO!"

Obi-Wan flinched, softly. But he did not move.

"Qui-Gon is not DEAD! He's not, he's not, he's NOT!"

The little boy had begun to sob, and though Padmé tried to hush him, he suddenly broke free, running towards Obi-Wan, tiny fists raised, and before anyone could stop him, he had plummeted into the young Jedi, hitting him repeatedly wherever he could reach him.

"He's not dead, why would he be, YOU'RE not, and you're smaller! You don't even fight, you're just… standing there! Why do you say that? Why do you say that? He can't be dead, he CAN'T be, I just TALKED to him! He PROMISED me!

- Anakin!"

Padmé watched the scene in horror, the frenzy Ani was working himself into, the terrible words of a child in pain sure to wound the Jedi even more – he was not even defending himself, he had just placed both hands on Anakin's shoulders, very lightly. And then he knelt, slowly, closing his eyes, and drew the boy against his chest, not caring for the blows and shouts.

And though Padmé felt like she had just witnessed another death, though she had seen many horrors and many battles, it was that simple move of compassion that finally brought tears to her eyes, causing them to flow.

There is no Pain, there is…

Blows raining on his chest.

No Pain, only…

Childish sobs, such despair, such heat, such profound sadness.

There is no Pain…

He could not remember. Could not remember the words. It was all… grey. Far away. Out of reach. Whenever he tried to remember, to think, to reach out for the Force, he felt like he was falling, spinning towards the ground – he felt like after that plane crash on Pijal, dizzy and sick and bleeding and…

"He promised…"

He was kneeling. And the little boy was crying in his chest, fists curled, no longer striking. Somehow they were both clinging to the other, and Obi-Wan realised his face was leaning against Anakin's sweaty locks, that his arms had curled around the tiny boy's waist, who was trembling hard enough to shake both of them.

And Obi-Wan realized he could not bear to see someone so young endure such profound pain. It could not be. It should not be.

And though it hurt – though it made him want to retch, at first, because reaching out for the Force just felt wrong right now, there was something missing, something essential, there was no balance, not anymore, and it just hurt… Despite all that, Obi-Wan still reached out, pleading silently, and found just enough grace and warmth to wrap them around the boy, trying to quench his tears, trying to calm his raging soul…

He is gone. I am sorry. But I promise you are not alone. I will not let you be alone. I promised him. And I promise you now.

Slowly, very slowly, Anakin's sobs spaced – and stilled. His face was still buried in Obi-Wan's shoulder, hot and sweaty – it felt so fragile. His arms moved, wrapping themselves around Obi-Wan's chest, and suddenly the young Jedi was almost overwhelmed with feelings.

I want to go back – I want my Mum – I blew it all up I wish you could have seen it – I promise I stayed in the cockpit – I'm sorry I hit you – why did he die – I miss him – please don't leave me…

"I will not leave you", Obi-Wan whispered, brokenly. "You have to tell me all about… about what you did. How you… how you managed to hit that spot. And to… fly like that."

But not now, little one. Now you should focus on what you achieved and leave the grief to me. I can take the pain. You just sleep. You just sleep.

The little boy was exhausted, and ere long Obi-Wan could feel him get heavier against him, arms going lax and face slowly trailing towards his neck.

He felt heavy himself. And so slow. His arms ached. His chest ached. His heart ached even more. But he had to move, and so he slowly stood, Anakin still cradled in his arms, like Qui-Gon had been – only to realise that everyone was looking at them, their faces full of sorrow.

"Is there anywhere… anywhere I can… My master" – he gulped down a fresh onslaught of pain. "I left his body in one of the rooms. I need to tend to him. I need to tell the Council.

- Yes. Of course", Amidala said, and Obi-Wan realized tears had streaked her face also – because she had been with Qui-Gon and had loved him too.

No one could be with Qui-Gon and not love him – the tidal wave of hurt hitting him was unexpected and left him reeling, but when he tried to breathe around it and release it into the Force, everything seemed to tilt, nothing was as it should and he felt sick.

"Easy, easy, easy…"

Someone had grabbed his shoulder; someone was taking Anakin from him and the loss of warmth and care to bestow left him cold and shivering.

There is no Pain, there is…

Rough hands making him sit, leaning him against the wall, undoing his belt, opening his Jedi tunic – he could not even bat the hands away, he could barely feel anything, there was just grey and fog and loss…

"Can't find any blood…", the gruff voice said. "But heavy bruises. And broken ribs. He'll need a scan.

- No", Obi-Wan whispered. "Please. My master…

- Young Jedi, you just passed out on us.

- You don't understand. I need to… stand guard. I need to…

- What you need, young one, is to lie down.

- Please… please…"

There was no control, anymore, in his voice, in his breath, in anything. He was shaking, and even though he could only see one face – that black, brave Captain who was never leaving the Queen's side, Obi-Wan still felt hot shame wash down on him. Especially when a soft hand found his brow, wiping down the sweat gathered there, thumb gently brushing against his hair.

"Panaka, he will not calm himself if we stay deaf to his needs."

Padmé's young voice was calm. Decided. It was everything his should be, and Obi-Wan shivered – because he could not feel the Force around him, not really, everything was askew, he could just reach out to what still felt like an anchor to him.

And so, when she gently clasped his hand in his, he clung to her fingers and turned his face towards her, trying to blink back darkness.

"Communication is on its way. You do need to inform the Jedi of what just happened. If they need to join you, please assure them that we will make sure everything is ready for them."

Obi-Wan's breathing was calming down, slowly but surely – he was trying. Trying to keep himself in the moment. To gather strength from those steady words, that kind brown gaze.

"Now. About your Master", Padmé continued, very softly, her hand still holding his. "I understand there are traditions. You do not need to tell me anything. Just know that… whatever you need, we shall provide.

- Your Highness, I do not think he is in any shape for…

- He is aware. I know he is. They are not like us, Panaka. They are attuned to the world around us. He just lost his master, Panaka. He just defeated that… that thing. That is why he bleeds.

- I… need to stand guard. I need to stay with him."

His voice was just a whisper, but it was coming back. Closing his eyes seemed to help. They burned less. But his face felt wet.

"I don't need anything. Just a room where we can stay."

Qui-Gon's body would not wither for at least a day – the Force would not leave him that quickly. He would just have to clean his body and wrap him in his cloak. And stay until it would be time to burn him and give him back to the Force, where he belonged. Where he had always belonged.

"Obi-Wan?"

Padmé's voice was soft. So very soft.

"Whenever you are ready… you can call them."

She gently took his hand, placing it on his lap, pressing a holoprojector into his palm. And he realised he was still in the hangar, still leaning against the wall – but there was almost no one save empty cruisers, Padmé and Panaka.

He rubbed his face, sluggishly. Smoothed down his hair, or at least tried to – because it was futile. He took a few deep breaths – he did not try to reach out for the Force, the Force was just whirling him around and something in him was still bleeding.

It was not right. But he could not fix it, not really, not now. He could just try to… press down on it. Like a wound.

There is no Pain…

There did not seem to be an ending to those words, and it did not feel right. But now was not the time, or the place to dwell upon that.

So Obi-Wan tried to quell the shuddering despair that was still gripping him, tried to take a few centric breaths, like he had been taught – tried to gather his tattered shields and found that if he did not think too much, they were still holding…

And then, when he found that yes, he could speak and yes, he could remember the frequency that had been drilled into him ever since their first mission and yes, he could sit upright and be calm and stop shaking – then, Obi-Wan's fingers slowly moved to switch the holoprojector on.

They were in the Mid Rim and the device was small. There would not be any images. Just blurred blue lines. And sound.

"Report to us you need, young Padawan?"

The voice was old. Known. Familiar. And Obi-Wan instantly felt some warmth wash over him, cradling his broken self in a soothing embrace.

"Master Yoda…?"

His voice was still trembling slightly, and for a while he could only breathe – but he felt them. All of them. The daunting, imposing, yet kind presences of the Council Qui-Gon had fought so much.

"Hurt you are, young Padawan. Speak to us you must, and share your burden. Worried about you, we have been."

Home. I want to go home.

Obi-Wan's eyes burned again – because he could feel them, the tendrils of compassion and care and worry, even without seeing them. And so, fighting back his tears once more, he finally managed to whisper the words he needed so badly, and yet seemed to cost him so much.

"Masters… I need your help."

A/N : And that's the end of chapter one. I've decided to always write one character and then to go back to Obi-Wan. In the next chapter, to my utter delight : Yoda, and then more of our favorite young Jedi. Feel free to review and tell me what you think! Till next Friday, Meysun.