Loneliness

Eight year old Obi-Wan Kenobi toyed nervously with the short braid woven into his hair, angling an anxious glance up at his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, who towered over him, a guarded expression on his face, one hand on his Padawan's shoulder as his eyes scanned the landscape before him.

The two of them had been sent to the icy planet of Orto to deliver some medical supplies. The native Ortolans, with their bright blue skin, floppy ears, long noses and blubber-insulated bipedal bodies were a naturally peaceful people who enjoyed music and good food. They had been experiencing a virus that had rapidly reached pandemic proportions, and the Republic had wasted no time in developing a vaccine. As Humans were immune to the virus, the two Jedi had been tasked with delivering enough vaccines to treat the entire populace. They had hopped from icy continent to icy continent, offloading their supplies in carefully allocated containers so that each province had enough for every citizen and more to spare.

The work had been gruelling, time consuming, and physically demanding, but with their job done, they had decided to return home. However, in their short absence away from the ship while checking in with the local authorities, they had returned to find their ship had been joined by another; a small fighter bearing the markings of Weequay pirates. Half-a-dozen of the burly figures wandered in and out of their ship, having already raided many of their remaining supplies. Although the vaccines had all been off-loaded, they had also been carrying emergency food ration packs, tools and other useful equipment to help the Ortolans that they were due to air drop outside the capital city upon their departure, and it seemed the pirates were stripping their ship for all it was worth.

"Master?" Obi-Wan said, as quietly as he could, "What should we do?"

"We cannot allow the pirates to take our supplies, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him, softly, "we need food and water for our journey home, and the Ortolans have little enough to spare for themselves... you must say hidden, I will deal with these pirates myself."

"Master, I want to help!"

"I know, my young Padawan, but you do not yet have your own lightsabre. Soon, you will fight by my side when needed, but for now, you must remain hidden."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan followed his Master at a safe distance, keeping behind the ice-coated rocks that hid them from view, until they were closer to the ship. Qui-Gon gestured for his apprentice to remain where he was, and then strode across the frozen lake towards their waiting ship. Immediately, the pirates opened fire with their blasters, but they were no match for a Jedi Master with a lightsabre. He deflected their shots back at them, picking them off one by one, until they all fell. Qui-Gon dashed up the ramp into their ship, and Obi-Wan heard the distant sounds of battle from within. He tried to touch the training bond he shared with his Master, but the older Jedi's shields were up and he felt nothing, though he was at least assured his Master was alive. The young boy immediately felt painfully alone, and he forlornly watched the ship as he waited for some sign from his Master.

Long minutes passed, and Obi-Wan shivered with loneliness and cold, despite his thick robes, until a familiar figure staggered down the ramp and waved him over. He ran across with undisguised relief, slipping and sliding in his haste, scrambling up the metal slope, as Qui-Gon discreetly pushed out the bodies of four more pirates, closing the access hatch. He dropped to his knees, greeting his Padawan warmly, placing both hands on his small shoulders.

"Obi-Wan, are you alright?"

"They didn't see me, Master Qui-Gon," the boy grinned back, and then his expression fell in sudden dismay, "Master... you're bleeding. Are you hurt?"

Qui-Gon touched his fingertips to his forehead; sure enough, they came away red with the blood Obi-Wan had seen marring his long hair and the collar of his tunic.

"I am fine, little one, it is just a scratch," he assured him, "come, we must warn the Ortolan government that there may be more pirates coming, and then we shall return home."

He placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, leading him up to the cockpit, though the young boy did not miss the way the Master's hand trembled slightly, or that he stumbled a few times as they made their way through the ship's hallways. Qui-Gon had piloted the ship himself; the fewer the crew, the more supplies could be spared to the Ortolan people. As such, it was just the two Jedi aboard. Obi-Wan sat quietly in the navigator's chair as Qui-Gon spoke briefly to the Ortolan Council, giving them the co-ordinates of the pirate vessel and their stolen supplies. Obi-Wan watched his Master's face; the older Jedi seemed pale, even in the dim light of the cockpit, his lips pressed thin, as if he were in pain.

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, cautiously, feeling nervous but not really knowing why, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Padawan," Qui-Gon told him, quietly, even as he squinted at the controls, almost as if he were having difficulty seeing them.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it again quickly. He did not want to upset his Master, but something felt wrong. Master Yoda was always telling the Younglings to trust in their feelings and to trust in the Force, but he also trusted his Master. If Qui-Gon said there was nothing wrong, then everything must be okay... although doubt still clawed at the back of his mind, as he saw Qui-Gon scrub the back of his shaking hand across his eyes. He tugged again at his braid, a nervous habit, and he felt the ship lift off, heading back into space. He was glad to leave Orto; it was very, very cold and he would be happy to get back to the warmth of their home on Coruscant.

He saw his Master activating the automatic pilot, letting the ship steer itself towards home, as they made the jump into hyperspace.

"We will be home in a few hours, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon Jinn suddenly sounded awfully tired, his normally impeccable speech slightly slurred, "I think... I think I will go... go and lie down, for a while..."

"Master...?" Obi-Wan watched with wide eyes as the older Jedi stood, slowly, almost painfully, gripping the back of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Then, with a slight groan, the Jedi Master crumpled; his eyes rolled up, his knees buckled, and he crashed down to the deck plates, landing with a heavy thud.

"Master!" Obi-Wan cried out in horror, launching himself to the floor beside the fallen Jedi, "Master, what's wrong?"

With all his strength, he managed to roll his Master over enough to see his face. Qui-Gon looked as white as a ghost, except for the red blood matted in his hair. Obi-Wan gripped the front of his Master's tunic with both hands, scrunching the fabric in his clenched fists as he tried to give the older Jedi a rousing shake.

"Master," he choked out, past a flash of terror, "Master, please... wake up..."

Qui-Gon did not stir, and the complete lack of feeling from the other side of their training bond made Obi-Wan's eyes well up with tears. He suddenly felt very alone and empty, and it was terrifying.

"Master? Master Qui-Gon... please, please wake up..."

There was no response. Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from his Master's pallid face, looking around frantically, before his eyes fell on the console. The communication system. He could try to call for help... he had been taught how to use it in case of an emergency and, well, he thought that his Master lying on the floor of the cockpit and not waking up certainly counted as one. So, he climbed into the chair, and activated the controls. Only a few seconds later, a familiar figure appeared in the holographic projector.

"Master Yaddle!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, relief flooding through him at the sight of a familiar face.

"Padawan Kenobi," the diminutive green Jedi appraised him in surprise, "what is wrong, child? Where is your Master?"

"He's on the floor, Master Yaddle," Obi-Wan felt his fear beginning to resurface as another tear tracked its way down his face, "he's on the floor and he won't wake up."

"On the floor...? Oh, Padawan," she shook her head, and then met his frightened gaze calmly, "relax. Breathe. Release your fear into the Force, as your Master has taught you... good. Now, please... tell me what happened."

"There were pirates, Master Yaddle," Obi-Wan rushed to tell her the full story, "Master Qui-Gon went to fight them and he threw them all off the ship but his head was bleeding and he said it was just a cut but then after he told the Ortolans about the pirates he set the course for home and decided he wanted to lie down but he didn't make it and he fell on the floor and now he won't wake up and I can't feel him at all through our bond and I don't know what to do..."

He broke off, bursting into tears, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic.

"Breathe, youngling," Yaddle kept her voice low and soothing; she loved all the younglings in the Temple and spent a great deal of time teaching in the crèche, and she could see how scared and alone the young boy was without the comforting presence of his Master, "good, now... I just need you to answer a few questions for me. Is Master Qui-Gon still... ah... is he breathing properly?"

"Y-yes, Master," Obi-Wan sniffed back his tears, "he sounds like he's sleeping."

"Good, that's good. Now, is he on his back?"

"No, Master; he's curled up on his right side."

"That's good; there's no need to try to move him. Now, you said his head was bleeding. Look in the storage locker to the left of the pilot's seat, and you will find a medical kit."

Obi-Wan did as he was told, finding the white metal case and taking it out quickly. He placed it on the floor and knelt beside his fallen Master.

"I've got it, Master."

"Well done, Padawan. Now... can you see where the blood is coming from?"

"His head, Master."

"Where, exactly? Can you find the cut and see how big it is?"

"Uh... it's, um... it's just on the side of his head, Master. The left side, above his ear... it's, uh, it's about as long as my finger and it looks really bad, it's all swollen up..."

"Okay... Obi-Wan, listen to me. I think your Master got hit on the head when he was fighting the pirates. He needs you to be very brave and help him get better, okay?"

"Yes, Master Yaddle... I'll do anything you say."

"Good boy... now, do you see the silver-wrapped packets? Those are bacta dressings. They will help to clean and heal the cut. You need to use one to wipe away as much of the blood as you can, and then put another one on to cover the wound and stop the bleeding, can you do that?"

"Yes, Master..."

Obi-Wan tore open one of the packets with shaking hands and did as he was told, wiping away the blood in the same way his Master had once cleaned up his knee after he had skinned it after a bad fall during a training session. He was as gentle as he could be, dismayed to find more blood welling up despite his efforts.

"Master Yaddle?" his voice rose tremulously, "it's... it's still bleeding, there's... there's so much blood..."

"It's okay, Obi-Wan... I'm afraid cuts on human heads do tend to bleed quite a lot, and I am sure Master Qui-Gon will be fine. You need to put the other bacta dressing onto the cut now, quickly, and then wrap it with bandages to hold it there, can you do that?"

He nodded at the hologram above him on the console, and then did as he was told. He had to lift his Master's head into his lap to wrap the bandage around his forehead to hold the dressing in place, and he bit his lip in concentration as he worked on making the bandage as tight as he could manage. With the dressing in place, his Master looked a little better, the ugly cut hidden from view, though Obi-Wan could do little about the red-brown blood drying and matting in his Master's long hair.

"Okay, Master, I've done that, but he still hasn't woken up," Obi-Wan sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose again on his sleeve, "what else can I do?"

"Go to your sleep quarters and fetch a pillow and a blanket," the Jedi Master told him, kindly, "you can make your Master a little more comfortable while you wait for him to wake up. I will stay here until you come back. Go, quickly, youngling."

"Okay!"

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and took off as fast as his legs could carry him. Tearing into their sleep chambers, he dragged a pillow and a heavy blanket from his Master's bed, wadding them up in his arms and carrying them through the ship, back to the cockpit, trying not to trip and stumble over the trailing blanket as he did so.

"I've got them, Master Yaddle!" he announced, his voice only slightly muffled by his arm full of fabrics.

"Gently, now, Obi-Wan... see if you can lift Master Jinn's head very carefully, and get the pillow underneath him. You do not want to hurt him further, so be slow and gentle."

"Of course, Master," he nodded to her, his expression determined, as he followed her instructions, "uh... he's very heavy, Master, but I think I can do it..."

"Use the Force if you must, youngling," Master Yaddle permitted him, "it is never frivolous if used in service of another."

With a nod, Obi-Wan knelt beside his Master and, with both hands, managed to lift his head from the deck, holding him against his own narrow shoulder with one arm. He used the other to summon the pillow with a wave, and then, with exaggerated care, slowly eased his Master's head back onto the soft cushion, careful to keep him lying on his right side, so he was not pressing on the cut to his left temple. With another wave, Obi-Wan straightened out the heavy blanket, guiding it to drape over Qui-Gon's recumbent form, before wrapping it around his Master's shoulders in the same way his Master tucked him back into bed every time he was roused from sleep by a nightmare.

"He looks like he's sleeping now, Master... except for the bandage on his head, I mean," Obi-Wan turned a wide-eyed gaze back to the holo-projector, "is there anything else I can do?"

"Look in the medical kit again – do you see the hyposprays? The thin metal tubes with a cone on one end?"

"Yes, Master, there are lots of different ones..."

"The blue ones contain a pain-reducer – a medicine that will help your Master to feel better," she explained, "you need to press the nozzle really firmly against his neck, just here..." she pointed to her own neck with one clawed finger for emphasis, "and then press the button on the back to give him the medicine. Do you think you can do it?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan nodded, reaching for the syringe with shaking hands, "um... Master Yaddle? Will it hurt him? What if I do it wrong?"

"No, Padawan – it won't hurt at all, it is to make him feel better. Just relax... now press it to his neck, just here... and push the button. It will flash a green light if you do it right."

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to screw his eyes shut, as he did as he was told. The hypospray made an odd hissing noise, but when he pulled it away, he saw a small green light flashing, and he grinned; "It worked, Master – I did it! Will he wake up now?"

"You must let him rest a while, young Padawan," Yaddle told him, softly, "he will wake up when he is ready, and the Force will help him to heal when he does. You have done very, very well. Now, please check the computer for me; is the auto-pilot still on?"

"It is, Master. It says we are twelve point six hours away from Coruscant."

"Good... now, there is little more that we can do for now, Obi-Wan. If you are hungry, you should get yourself some ration bars and some water. Stay with Master Qui-Gon and let him rest, and hopefully he will wake up soon. Would you like me to stay on the line with you while you wait?"

Obi-Wan hesitated; he was still frightened and alone without the reassuring conscious presence of his Master through their training bond, but he knew he needed to be brave and look after himself for a while.

"I'll be okay, Master Yaddle," he tried to sound convincing, "thank you for helping me look after Master Qui-Gon."

"You are most welcome, Padawan – if there are any problems or if you just need to talk to someone, I will be here, alright?"

"Yes, Master... thank you," he bowed, respectfully, and the comm. system shut down.

As soon as it did so, the loneliness hit him like the icy winds of Orto, and he shivered, tears threatening to spill once more. He dropped to his hands and knees, crawling to kneel beside his unconscious Master, his small hands carefully stroking the older Jedi's hair in the same soothing motion his Master used to comfort Obi-Wan when he was distressed. When this garnered no response, Obi-Wan lowered himself to the floor, curling up in a ball against his Master's chest. Pulling a little of the blanket over himself to stave off the chill, Obi-Wan grabbed a hold of the Jedi's outer robe with one hand, snuggling into the warm cloth and breathing in his Master's familiar scent. He didn't even realise he was crying again until he felt the fabric dampen against his face, as he quietly sobbed himself to sleep.

Obi-Wan stirred, and blinked awake, not certain what had awoken him. Something – a noise, a slight movement, a tingle in the Force... he tried to move, but then there was movement again, and he found that he was enveloped in a strong, warm embrace. Hope flared in his chest, as he looked up, and found his Master smiling down on him. Qui-Gon still seemed pale, with dark smudges under his eyes, but his expression was one of peace and fondness for the boy in his arms.

"Master!" he cried out, joyfully, flinging his arms around the older Jedi's chest, burying his face into his robes, "You're okay!"

"Oof! Easy there, Obi-Wan... yes, I will be alright now. Thanks, I suspect, to you, my young Padawan..."

They lay curled up together on the floor for a long few minutes, as Obi-Wan tried to release his flood of emotions into the Force, feeling overwhelmed, but being able to sense that his Master was still exhausted and in pain through their bond.

"Are you alright, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, at long last, "Your head is hurting, isn't it? I can sort of feel it... Master Yaddle showed me how to give you pain-relievers, did it not work?"

"Master Yaddle? You spoke to the Jedi Council?"

"Only to Master Yaddle. You said I should only use the communicator if there was an emergency... and when you fell on the floor and wouldn't wake up, I didn't know what else to do..."

"You did the right thing, Padawan," Qui-Gon rubbed his back soothingly, "and I will be fine, in a few moments..."

With one hand, the other staying wrapped comfortingly around his Padawan, Qui-Gon reached for the open medical box nearby, selected a hypospray, and injected himself with it. Almost immediately, his headache ebbed away to a more manageable level, and he was able to draw more of the Force to himself, using its healing energies to set to work on his head injury. A healing trance would have been quicker and more effective, but he could sense Obi-Wan's fear and distress; although the boy was trying valiantly to let go of those feelings, Qui-Gon did not want to effectively leave him alone again.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon wrapped both arms around the boy again, drawing the blanket over both of them, feeling the youngling shivering against him, "I am so very proud of you, my young Padawan."

The praise from his Master warmed him as much as the embrace and the blanket. Putting his left arm around Qui-Gon's waist, his right hand still loosely holding onto his Master's tunic, Obi-Wan snuggled in closer, and the two of them lay together peacefully, neither of them yet willing to move, as their ship continued on its course towards home.

Author's note: short and hopefully quite sweet for this one! I hope nobody minded the slight break from the norm, I wanted to do something a little different and I hope you liked it. I'm also aware this is slight AU as I've apprenticed Obi-Wan much earlier than in canon but…meh. As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated, it would be nice to know what you think. Thank you!