The long day had finally come to its end – like any other day. The falling night had instilled tormenting apprehension and restlessness into Obi-Wan, making him pace the room given to him like a caged animal. He had thought he wouldn't be able to fall asleep this night knowing that morning held the price for him to pay, yet by some unknown force he had fallen into a dreamless – mercifully devoid of nightmares – sleep, never bothering to undress, sprawled on the wide bed.
The morning came into his room bright and clear, shining with soft sun – so much unlike Tatooine's two monsters – and thrilling with birds' cheerful song for the glory of the new day. He stretched on the silky covers of the huge bed like a large feline, drinking in the pure energy of non-artificial life, forgetting his yesterday's dread for the time being. Getting up with ease he could barely remember himself possessing he did all the morning routine.
Several minutes later he walked over to the tall window and looked out at a vast landscape stretching out before him still basked in violet haze over the horizon. An encompassing sense of serenity washed over him, and he stilled, leaning onto the windowsill, holding his breath as though it might break the beauty of the picturesque view.
He felt his soul fill with the quiet peace of the place, forgetting everything. Until…
Until he drew upon the Force.
Until he tried to draw upon the Force.
Breath hitched in his throat as he suddenly felt himself blind – blind to the Force, to the only thing he used to rely upon and to find consolation in, to find strength in.
"Dear Force!" the strangled words tumbled out of his mouth involuntarily.
His fingers grasped the windowsill hard until his knuckles turned white. This could not be! It wasn't possible!
He could not lose the Force!
Guardedly he reached out again – and grasped nothing, his mental fingers brushing through cold hollowness where brilliant energy once resided. Emptiness, lifeless void veiled his senses, leaving him inept and confused. The colours outside the window faded, the birds' cheerful singing turned into a troubling cacophony of shrill sounds.
He was not arrogant – or stupid – enough to think the Force itself had ceased to exist. He knew the problem was inside him.
"It is a dream, only a dream," he forcefully told himself – and his voice sounded hollow to him, hollow and hoarse. "He couldn't have done this to me…"
"Sir?.." called a female voice soft and ringing with barely masked confusion bordering with fear.
Obi-Wan turned sharply and locked eyes with a young girl – undoubtedly one of the palace servants – standing at the opened door in uncertainty.
"Yes?" he squeezed out through clenched in an attempt to keep himself gathered teeth.
"Sir… Queen Amidala sent me… to ask… i-if you would join her and others at the breakfast." The girl stuttered in haste.
Do I look that awful to frighten her so? Obi-Wan wondered absently.
"Tell her I don't feel well and would like to stay here," he replied with all calmness he could muster. "Just leave me alone!" words escaped him in spite of himself.
"Ah… Yes… Of course… As you wish…"
The girl scurried off almost slamming the carved wooden door shut behind her.
Obi-Wan turned back to the window. He knew what was going on. He knew who took the Force from him, and the knowledge weighted down on him suddenly heavy as though a planet's weight had been put onto his shoulders. There was no other possibility.
"Tarius! Tarius…" He never knew his voice could hold so much disgust, so much hatred – hatred that frightened him, echoing around the empty room.
If the man appeared there Obi-Wan would most likely stalk him and choke – or at least tried to.
So this was the price.
I've traded Qui-Gon's life for my own blindness to the Force.
He lowered his head as a surge of indecision engulfed him. Was the game worth the candle? Or had he spoiled everything and at the same time flung himself into a chasm of hopelessness?
"Yes, it is worth it. It is…"
Only he was worth nothing anymore. A Jedi without the Force. A bird without wings to fly, a rainbow without colours.
A smile that split his face was more like a grimace.
At least, Qui-Gon is alive. He will train Anakin, and everything will be fine. They don't need a failed apprentice without the Force and with the coarsened soul of an old hermit. No one needs.
Apprentice… He suddenly thought of what he would have done had this happened to the twenty-five-year-old version of him. His hand strayed to the silky braid behind his right ear, and the fingers stroked it lightly. The apprentice would have cut the braid. Obi-Wan's fingers grasped it tightly as though in fright it would turn out severed. The apprentice would have put the braid on the pillow with a note to his Master – and leave.
The young and – it must be confessed – silly and naïve apprentice would have probably written the note with passionate indignant words, blaming the Master for never loving him. And then there would've been an unresolved issue poisoning their both lives. The issue they would've never been able to resolve in their mutual stubbornness.
If Luke were there he would have recognized the look he had only seen on the old and weathered face. But there was no one to witness this moment, and it passed unheeded.
The apprentice would undoubtedly have done so… But he was no apprentice. He would stay, he would go back to Coruscant with Qui-Gon and Anakin and come what may.
He would have to talk to Qui-Gon. A wave of reluctance raised – somehow confiding into Qui-Gon seemed the hardest thing to do. Surely, if he were to come to the Temple – as he would – the whole Temple would soon know of his… 'predicament'.
'Predicament'? That's how you call it? What an understatement! His sarcastic mental voice was still with him, Force or no Force.
But Qui-Gon would have to be the first to know. Preferably in private. In private…
Obi-Wan froze awkwardly in the doors to the Throne room, finding suddenly that he had walked all the way here unawares. Qui-Gon was here – as was the whole Naboo court. So much for talking in private. Everyone turned to look at him, and he barely suppressed a growing blush.
"Master, can I speak to you?"
"Now?" Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something else, yet apparently something in Obi-Wan's appearance or the apprentice's eyes made him change his mind. He nodded instead of speaking and apologized to the queen for leaving.
A few strides later the Jedi Master led his ragged and distraught looking apprentice out of the Throne room; the door slid close with a faint swoosh behind them.
"What is it, Obi-Wan?" The tone was neutral.
"Can we talk somewhere more… quiet?"
Nodding again Qui-Gon led the way to a small pergola in the garden. The little shelter was twined with climbing stems of exotic plants, vestured with large soft cream-coloured flowers.
He must have thought the verdant flowers would bring calm to me, the younger man decided.
Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to sit and lowered himself onto a bench next to him.
"What is it, Padawan? What is bothering you?"
Obi-Wan's gaze traveled over the flowers as he found himself unable to look at the Master.
"Don't you feel it?" He didn't mean for it to come out this way. What was he doing?
"Feel what?"
He doesn't realize? He thinks…
"The Force in… me. Do you feel it?"
A followed pause scratched onto Obi-Wan's nerves, almost making him fidget.
"What?… How?…"
Obi-Wan – who suddenly felt more like old Ben – thought that he had never heard so much bewilderment in Qui-Gon's voice.
"Little One, what happened?" The aching gentleness in the deep voice tore something deep inside Obi-Wan, but he reacted the way even he didn't expect.
"Don't call me that!.. Please." He still refused to look at his brother in the Force and his father in the Jedi Order.
"I thought you liked it."
"I-I did… Once… long ago."
So much for the resolve to be alone.
"What do you mean?" Deep confusion rang in the words. "Padawan, are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"Yes, I am." Obi-Wan sighed. "And I am not your Padawan… anymore."
"If it's about Anakin…"
"No. Let us leave him out of this… for a while. There is something I should tell you about myself, something you do not know."
"You know that there are some things a Padawan needs to keep secret, even from…"
"It's not of that kind! Oh, I keep interrupting you…" Obi-Wan smiled a tight smile.
Gathering all his courage he briefly retold the story of his life finishing with the second duel with Maul. He finally dared look at Qui-Gon's face and saw bafflement, disbelief – he did not need the Force to read that face.
"Padawan, you…"
"I am older than you now." He could not keep the bitterness out of his tone. "How can I be your Padawan?"
Qui-Gon seemed to struggle to come to terms with the stunning news. And Obi-Wan could tell he wasn't succeeding.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Return with you… and Anakin… to Coruscant. And then… leave, I suppose. There is no place for a non-Force-sensitive in the Temple."
"Maybe you can stay…"
He never thought Qui-Gon's voice could sound so – pleading.
"I don't think so. I think… I better stay alone… for now."
He watched the tall Jedi stand up slowly, wrapping up his cloak around himself as though cold, then turn around and leave without as much as a glance back – slowly, reluctantly. And as the Master went Obi-Wan could almost see the rift opening between them – the rift that could never be mended.
They had been brothers in the Force – like all Force-sensitives. Now they were beings of two different worlds.
* * *