Chapter Three: Like Salt on an Open Wound
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Obi-wan sleepily arose from the bed in the corner of the Spartan room and looked about him. With a sudden twinge of amnesia he could not remember where he was or how he had ended up in that room. But then his head cleared its drowsiness. He was in one of the rooms in the Jedi tower, and he had spent the previous night tiring himself out in the sparring room with that mechanical orb. Time and time again, he blocked every shot for what seemed like eternity until his mind lost focus and he became overly confident. He was shot every time.
That was why, he noted with a grimace, his body ached with overuse as he tried to pull his tunic over his head. There were knots of pain where the blaster shots had hit him, but he ignored them. The real anguish was in his head. Why couldn't he do it? He knew he was one of the best, at least among the Padawans, with his agility and technique.
But all day yesterday he just couldn't do it. It caught him off guard every time so that then he would grit his teeth in anger and push himself through the training once more. After a time, his body sank into torpor and he felt himself becoming slower. The mechanism caught him off guard more and more frequently. Obi-wan finally gave up and retired to a vacant room nearby.
He pulled his cloak on despite the fact that he was sweating as he fought against the pain in his mind and body. He then reached for his belt, but suddenly realized that his lightsaber was not hooked into its usual place. Oh, great, he realized with another angry jab at himself, I left it in the sparring room. He vaguely remembered throwing it against the wall and leaving the previous night.
Wonderful.
The door slid open and Qui-gon was standing in the doorway. "It is late, my Padawan," he said blankly, "near midday. What have you been doing?"
Obi-wan jumped. In addition to leaving his lightsaber, which he continually did despite his master's admonitions, he had been too dull-witted to sense Qui-gon's presence approaching.
"I…um…" He wanted to hit himself.
"You seem weary. What did you do last night?"
"Practice," Obi-wan muttered. He knew the guilt was showing on his face and he didn't bother to put up his mind barriers.
"Obi-wan, you tired yourself out. You are angry with yourself."
Well, to point out the obvious… "Yes, master."
"What is it, my young Padawan?" There was a hint of concern on Qui-gon's face, Obi-wan duly noted. So he does care, in spite of how much I irritate him.
"I do not know, master. I just was not feeling well last night and I have not quite woken up yet." Obi-wan managed to lie. He buckled his belt and desperately hoped Qui-gon would not notice the absence of his weapon.
His hopes were in vain. Qui-gon Jinn was a Jedi master, anyway. And a very perceptive one.
"Where is your lightsaber?" Obi-wan saw the all too familiar look of dread on his master's face. This happened too often. He would have to remember that keeping his lightsaber fully functional and with him at all times was his number one priority. Obi-wan really wanted to hit himself now.
"I…left it in the sparring room last night." He clamped his jaw down and lowered his gaze to the floor.
"Obi-wan…" Obi-wan heard the vexation in his master's well controlled voice and sighed. That bothersome girl was right about him, and even though he admitted it was true, he did not want to embrace the truth. "I cannot keep track of how many times I have had to tell you this. A lightsaber is a Jedi's weapon. It is of the utmost value. You made it yourself, did you not? And yet you do not realize that your lightsaber is not something you can cast away like something you have many of."
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Anakin suddenly smirked. Obi-wan's mind drifted out of his memory and he looked at his apprentice.
"What is it?"
"Something sounds too familiar," Anakin said.
Obi-wan wondered for a few moments, then suddenly he laughed. "I wouldn't be lying if I told you I lost or damaged my lightsaber more often than you did."
"But I'm not as old as you were then--"
"No, actually, I was also nineteen at the time."
"Oh." Anakin smiled. An image of his stern master fumbling and dropping his lightsaber into a trash compactor and angrily cursing leaped into his head involuntarily. He fought hard to keep from laughing.
"What?" Obi-wan had sensed Anakin's humor.
"Um, nothing, master, please, continue."
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"Yes, master." Obi-wan heard his voice from the past, younger sounding, but heavy with guilt.
Qui-gon shook his head. His apprentice, with a pang of distress, saw the weariness in his master. Qui-gon's shoulders drooped and he looked as though he could use a well-deserved two-day nap. "Why do you not listen to me, Obi-wan? There are things I have told you countless times and yet you do not…" he hesitated, then, "…no, you will learn in time, my apprentice. You will learn. Just be patient with yourself and remember what I say. The Padawans are all practicing in the sparring room now. And your partner has been kept waiting for quite an amount of time."
The figure of the Jedi master left the doorway and the apprentice closed his eyes against a throbbing headache. He ran his hands through his cold, damp hair and left the room.
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"Is this yours?" A familiar voice said from behind. Obi-wan had just entered the sparring room and was staring, quite drowsily, at the dozens of Padawans fencing with each other. He startled and again reprimanded himself for not being in tune with the Force.
"Is what mine?" He asked, turning to face the speaker. It was Akura, and he looked down to her hand. She was holding his lightsaber. Oh, of all people… "Yes, that is, thank you," he said with forced geniality. He took his lightsaber and hooked it onto his belt.
Akura was smiling at him when he looked up. "I found it in the corner of the room and thought the handle style looked vaguely familiar. When I ignited it and saw the blue blade, I knew it had to be yours. After all, there weren't many in the sparring room last night." She didn't ask why it had been there. Well, she doesn't need to ask. Of course she knows. She's just being gracious. How kind of her.
"Thanks," he muttered. He couldn't help but notice she suddenly looked prettier than she had yesterday. The dim light in the archives and the sweat running into his eyes last night definitely didn't help his vision. He hated himself for noticing. You're supposed to be hating her, you moron…she's the one who embarrasses you and points out everything you hate about yourself, even if she supposedly doesn't mean to. Helping people? Right. She is not pretty. But she was and he found himself admiring the black eyes so full of splendor and charisma. No, she's outright cruel. She likes to make people hate her. He bit down on his lip, frustrated.
Obi-wan quickly snapped to his senses and realized that she was the only other Padawan in the room who was not sparring with someone else. He nearly groaned, but instead he just hit himself.
"What?" She looked confused again. "Oh. You just realized that I'm your partner, didn't you? I'm not that horrible."
"What? No, I--" Obi-wan stopped. "I didn't mean…no. Never mind. I just made a fool of myself. Again. I'm not having the best of days, either."
She grinned, then held out a fencing pole. "Come on, we're hours behind in our training."
"Oh. Right." Obi-wan took the thin but sturdy weapon and took his cloak off. He was amazed to find that his cold sweat had dissipated, but his head was still a bit groggy.
He had barely taken a stance when she struck at him. After barely parrying a few blows, his mind forced itself to clear and his cramped muscles loosened. He switched from being on the defensive to the offensive and pushed her into a corner. The aching was lessening in his body and he felt better already.
"I told you you were good," she said. She was beginning to breathe rapidly.
"Plebeian, did you say?" he asked between attacks, "or something of the sort. You aren't quite unskilled yourself."
"I never said I wasn't any good."
In a flurry of attacks and parries, Obi-wan felt himself being pushed back again. He backed into another Padawan and muttered an apology. Then he reached out with his senses and drew upon the Force. He advance again and noted that Akura was breathing hard in exertion. A smile played across his face as he knew he was obviously going to win.
He struck at her head, then at her legs, and feinted a blow to her side. In the split second she was preoccupied defending her left side, he brought his weapon back in a sweeping motion to her right and struck at her midsection, a blow sure to make contact with its target. But it didn't. He lost his balance and his focus dissipated. And then he felt her weapon come bearing down on his, so that his was brought to the floor. She stepped on it and then kicked up forcefully.
His weapon flew into the air and she deftly caught it. Then, with an amazing draw upon the Force, she leapt and flipped over his right shoulder. Before he was fully turned around to meet his attacker, he heard an unmistakable whistle past his left ear. The wooden tip was lodged in the wall behind him, and the handle was still reverberating from impact. He knew that the blade had just missed his ear by a hair's breadth. And he knew that was where it was directed to go. The girl hadn't missed, she was just being gracious. Again.
Well, damn graciousness. It just rubbed it in that he had missed and she had taken the moment to her own advantage. It just rubbed it in that she had won. And won well, at that.
Which wasn't supposed to happen, because they both knew he had the advantage over her. She was smaller than him, less agile, less skilled, and less trained. Obviously, though, she had talent. The talent to hold her position while she relentlessly searched for a sure sign of weakness in her stronger opponent and then used it.
It was just one more thing to add to the list of proofs to his weakness.
He knew she noticed his thoughts because she put her hands on her knees and breathed hard in exaggeration of the effort she had taken to beat him. She was just trying to make him feel better. To say, 'hey, it was something that happened only because you're tired. And look how much it took out of me.'
Obi-wan took a deep breath and pulled the stick out of the wall where it was still vibrating. He held it out to her, and she took it, puzzled. Then he bent down to take his cloak from the floor and left the room.
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