A Ghost Story, by Mystique
The Padawan's Ghost
by Mystique



"Shh!" Bant hissed dramatically. She pushed Obi-Wan further into the darkness behind the low bushes.

"There's no one there, Bant." Obi-Wan kept his voice low. He rolled his eyes, knowing he was invisible in the shadows. "Remind me again, just why are we doing this?"

"Oh hush..." Bant turned to glare at him, reflected light glinting briefly in liquid silver eyes. "Nearly there."

Obi-Wan bobbed his head up from the shrubbery and glanced around. Low orange light from the regularly spaced lanterns showed an empty pathway. This part of the Temple would generally be quiet this late at night but there was always a chance someone would pass by on their way to the meditation glades. The furthest gardens were, by tradition, reserved for the Knights and Masters.

"Clear," Bant whispered. "Lets go."

Obi-Wan nodded, then realised with irritation that Bant still couldn't see him. She was already moving though, heading swiftly down the path and towards their goal. Sighing, he scrambled to his feet and followed. He caught up just as Bant reached a door set deeply in the wall. It wasn't locked and she swung the door open. Obi-Wan gave a final glance behind them, to make sure they weren't being observed, then followed his friend into the cool, dark interior.

Light filtering through the high windows lent the deserted salle a eerie blue gleam, stripes of light and dark falling across the wooden floor. In daylight hours the hall would a hubbub of activity, groups of people exercising and practising their forms. Now, apart from several training remotes in a metal rack, the room was empty. The occasional drip of water echoed hollowly from one of the nearby shower rooms. The sound irritated Obi-Wan, setting his teeth on edge. Bant stopped in one of the slanting beams of light.

"Spooky, huh?" she said in a low voice.

"Yes, Bant, " Obi-Wan replied with heavy and infinite patience. "It's just the sort of place a ghost would hang out."

Bant turned to him and grinned, flapping one of her fin-like hands in dismissal.

"Oh you're such a know-it-all, Obi-Wan Kenobi! Don't you dare give me that lecture on myths and folklore again! This is supposed to be the place he haunts. Where he, you know... Did it." She drew a hand slowly across her throat and whispered dramatically. "Cut off his own head!"

"That's a compactor full of garbage, Bant! Name one single person who has ever seen this so-called Ghostly Padawan!" He shook his head at the foolishness of the young.

"Besides," he added. "Why is he called the Padawan's Ghost, when he was supposedly an initiate when he killed himself? On his thirteenth birthday, too. He never did get to be a Padawan"

Bant giggled, her big eyes darting around at the shadowy corners. She dropped her voice conspiratorially.

"Well, you see, he has this braid. And each year it grows longer and longer. It's so long now that it trails behind him. Swish. Swish. Swish across the floor." Bant danced off through the slanting beams of light. She swayed gently as she moved, a hand gesture mimicking the long fall of hair brushing over the boards. "They say... they say he waits until he is claimed by his one true Master. The Master he was meant to have. But that Master joined the Force long ago, so he will be waiting... forever. Swish. Swish. Swishhh."

Obi-Wan stared at her, momentarily frozen. A cold shiver trickled down his spine before he caught himself.

"Look, there's nothing here."

"It's not midnight yet." Bant turned to him. "That's when he died."

"Perhaps we ought to check the showers and anterooms first, then. Just in case." Obi-Wan was determined to show some leadership here. He didn't regret taking Bant up on her dare. He was, if he admitted it to himself, quite enjoying the after-hours adventure but he was reluctant to give Bant the satisfaction seeing him caught up in the whole ghost hunt. He felt a touch of superiority at seeing Bant look a little apprehensive at his suggestion.

"Of course, if you're scared," his voice trailed off.

Bant glared. "Lead on then, Kenobi"

The darkened closets and antechambers were empty of anything that had no business being there. As they approached the showers the insistent dripping got louder. Bant let Obi-Wan take the lead, pressing close behind him.

"We should turn that tap off." Obi-Wan hoped his whisper sounded more confident than he felt.

"Perhaps we should turn a light on..." Bant pressed even closer.

"Its just the dark." Still, Obi-Wan hesitated at the shower room door. "We're not initiates any more, Bant. We're Jedi padawans. We're trained to move and fight without using our eyes, just using the Force."

There was a pause, then, in a tiny voice, Bant asked, "Do you think you can sense ghosts with the Force?"

"I don't know..." Obi-Wan momentarily forgot that he wasn't supposed to believe in ghosts.

He wasn't scared, he told himself. He was merely alert for danger. Of course, he was in the Jedi Temple, the safest place in the whole galaxy, but it never hurt to be on guard, did it? All he had to do was remain calm and not let fear master him. Reaching out with the Force to determine that the room beyond appeared empty, he pushed open the door.

"Go on." Bant made no move to press forward.

Squaring his shoulders, Obi-Wan advanced into the room. It was even darker here, but he could feel his way using the Force. The high plink of the falling drops came from somewhere up ahead. He stopped.

"Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!" He essayed a low laugh and it echoed satisfyingly through the tiled room. Bant's hand tightened on his arm.

"Obi!" she warned. "Shhhh!"

They listened. Obi-Wan held his breath. There was nothing but the incessant dripping. Finally, Bant's hand relaxed.

"Wooooohooooh" Bant's ghostly wail sounded high and hollow in the echoing chamber and Obi-Wan snorted with laughter. Bant started giggling. They experimented for several minutes, trying to produce the scariest sounds. The acoustics in the shower room were perfect. Obi-Wan was trying his deepest Huttese laugh while Bant howled like a Wookiee.

"I'll get that drip and then we can get out of here," Obi-Wan said finally, and he headed down the room towards the elusive sound. He turned towards the last shower stall and his blood turned to ice. There was a boy there, a pale figure in Jedi tunics.

Instantly his lightsaber was up and lit. Bant was less than a second behind him, her saber ready to guard his back. There was a shocked silence, broken only by the low hum of the blades. A drop of water fell, the lonely sound echoing through the room.

He was going to laugh, really he was, just as soon as he caught his breath and his knees stopped shaking. Behind him Bant was already lowering her saber.

"Nice one, Kenobi," she said, her grinning face glowing in the pink light from her weapon. "You really had me going for a moment."

Obi-Wan lowered his lightsaber sheepishly and the boy in the mirror did the same.

"You were scared! Admit it!" Bant was almost crowing. She doused her blade.

"No, I wasn't!" Obi-Wan said, indignantly. "I was alert! Being cautious! I have to watch out for you, you know!"

"Oh, yeah? You're nearly as white as your robes. No wonder you thought your own reflection was a ghost!"

Obi-Wan shook his head, knowing it was going to take him a while to live this down. He reached over to the dripping shower head impatiently and turned it off.

"You were scared yourself, Bant. Just because I can't tell by looking at you!"

"Was not!"

"You were, too!" Obi-Wan powered down his saber and clipped it on his belt. It was suddenly very dark, although the glow from his saber still seemed burned into his retina. He grinned.

"Woohoo!" he cried. "Here comes the Ghostly Padawan!"

Flapping his sleeves like a mad thing, he advanced down the shower room. Bant fled before him shrieking with glee, her voice echoing through the empty stalls, before she slipped through the door and escaped. Obi-Wan chased her down the corridor and through the empty rooms, laughing and spinning as he waved his arms, gesturing menacingly. Finally Bant dodged back into the main hall, Obi-Wan hot on her heels. He ran straight into the back of her, and instinctively grabbed her as she stiffened in his arms.

There in the salle, light pooled on the top of his head, and around his feet, stood a tall dark figure. This time it was no reflection. Obi-Wan felt his heart leap into his mouth. With a low thud the lights were Force-activated and whined into brightness. Bant sagged against him gratefully, but Obi-Wan swallowed hard, his relief mixed with growing apprehension. There, in the centre of the room, stood his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He did not look amused.

"What is the meaning of this, Padawans?" The echoing hall reverberated with Master Jinn's displeasure. "I am dragged from my meditation by my Padawan's alarm, and come straight here, only to find you two running around and screeching like initiates."

"M-master." Obi-Wan bowed low, and Bant, glancing at her partner in crime, quickly followed suit. "We were, um..."

"You have not been a Padawan for very long, have you Bant? Does your master know you are here?"

"No, Master Jinn." Bant shook her head.

"So, why do I find you two alone in this training hall? Surely you are a little too old for midnight pranks and a little too young for assignations?"

Bant bowed her head again. "I apologise, sir. It was all my idea. I dared Obi... I mean, Padawan Kenobi to accompany me in search of the ghost."

"A ghost, Padawan?" Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows.

"Yes sir." Bant nodded. "There's a story that says that this salle is haunted by the ghost of a padawan who killed himself. We were curious."

"Is this true, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded glumly, well aware of how juvenile it all sounded.

"I see." Qui-Gon shook his head exasperation. "I have not heard of any Jedi padawan committing suicide in this temple, nor have I heard of any ghost in this hall. You have been led astray by your imaginations.

"Padawan Bant. Obi-Wan and I will accompany you to your quarters where you will make an explanation to your own master. I do not expect you will escape punishment for this little escapade."

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon paused and Obi-Wan drew a deep breath to steady himself. He would face his Master calmly, like a Jedi, and take his punishment accordingly.

"You and I will speak of this later."

Qui-Gon was thankfully silent on the way back to their quarters. Obi-Wan struggled to keep up with his Master's long legged stride.

"Master, may I ask? Is there such a thing as a Force Ghost?"

"I believe so, Padawan, although few have ever seen them. They are usually Jedi who have been allowed to remain in this existence by the Force, to complete some unfinished task."

Qui-Gon slowed and looked down at Obi-Wan. HIs mouth quirked, but he didn't exactly smile. "I will not be distracted from your punishment, young Padawan."

Of course not, Obi-Wan thought. He shook his head. "No, Master."

They had reached their rooms, and Qui-Gon palmed the door lock before ushering Obi-Wan in ahead of him, and gesturing to the sofa. He sat down, and when Obi-Wan seemed reluctant, he patted the seat beside him.

"Sit, Padawan."

Here it comes, thought Obi-Wan, the lecture.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began, not unkindly. "I'm a little disappointed in you. I expected you to be studying tonight, and then going straight to bed. What possessed you to go hunting around the far hall for ghosts?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I was trying to tell Bant that it wasn't true, but she's taken up by the notion. She thinks its such a terribly tragic and romantic story."

"What story, Padawan?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "There are many legends that have sprung up around the Temple, but I don't believe I've heard this one."

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and stood, hands clasped in front of him, in formal storytelling posture.

"The story goes like this. There once was an initiate, who, nearing his thirteenth birthday, was desperate to be taken as a Padawan. He believed that he was destined to be a Jedi Knight, but as the deadline approached, he fell into despair. No master seemed willing to train him. Finally, on the eve of his birthday, he went alone into the furthest training salle, which as you know, is almost always deserted at night, and he waited.

"Now, there was one old master, a man who had been alone for far too long, and was uncertain as to whether or not he should take one last Padawan. He finally decided that he should train the young man. He set out to approach him, but could not find him anywhere. He did not think to look in the darkened hall. Meanwhile, the initiate was still waiting. When at last he heard the midnight chimes, he wept, and taking out his own lightsaber, he killed himself.

"The Master finally found the headless body the next morning, and he too wept. He realised that he had left it too late to approach the initiate, and that his reluctance had cost the order not one, but two Jedi. That night he left the Temple, never to return.

"They say that the initiate's ghost now haunts the far salle, and at midnight he appears, seeking his master, who will never come for him."

Obi-Wan finished the story with the ritual bow, and straightened to find his Master staring at him coolly. Qui-Gon's expression hardened as he looked at Obi-Wan.

"Do you blame the master then, Obi-Wan?" he said. "Was the child such a loss to the Order? The boy was hasty and let his fears rule him. Surely, a boy who would commit such a desperate act would not have made a suitable Jedi Knight?"

Obi-Wan stared at his master in horror. That was cold, coming from the normally compassionate Qui-Gon. He dropped to his knees in front of the seated man.

"Master, forgive me. It's just a story. Its... well, I know why this myth has started and why it's considered so tragic and romantic."

"Indeed, Padawan?" Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to continue.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded earnestly. "It taps into the fears of many initiates. Its a terrible feeling, Master, and a common fear. The feeling that you have been training for something all your life, only to lose the chance. Its the fear of failure."

"Not all initiates are destined to be knights, Obi-Wan, or even padawans." Qui-Gon said quietly.

"No, Master. But that is not so easy to accept when you are twelve years old, and want it desperately. The initiate was wrong to do as he did, Master, and yet you still have to feel for him."

"And the master?" Qui-gon's eyes were cool.

Obi-Wan shifted awkwardly. "It's not my place to say, Master." He floundered, uncertain. He hoped that Qui-Gon didn't imagine that he held any grudges, or blamed him for the misery he went through before Qui-gon had finally accepted him as his padawan.

"But he did try to do the right thing. It wasn't his fault alone that the tragedy occurred. He was just a little too late, that's all. I would hope... I'd hope that the master wouldn't blame himself too much. Maybe the initiate would find it in his heart to forgive him."

"Not even masters are immune to the fear of failure, Obi-Wan." Qui-gon sighed. He sounded so sad. Obi-Wan felt his heart go out to the older man. He reached out and, tentatively, placed one of his small hands on his master's knee.

"Master." Obi-Wan hesitated, not sure where to start. "Master... the story of that poor initiate. It's really made me think.

"When I was sent to Bandomeer, and finally accepted I was going to be a farmer, I... Well, I don't think I ever wanted to kill myself, Master, but in some ways, I no longer cared if I lived or died. I tried to accept my fate, really I did, but part of that acceptance was just numbness. My faith in my own destiny was shattered."

It was harder than he had thought, talking about Bandomeer, but he had to say it. His emotions were bursting from their buried hiding places, gathering in his chest in one choking mass. Obi-Wan was horrified to feel the pricking of hot tears welling up in his eyes, and he swallowed hard, holding them back by sheer will.

"But you chose me, in the end, and restored my shattered faith. I can't begin to express how grateful I am. I'm where I want to be. Where I've always known I should be."

Obi-Wan's voice quivered and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Qui-Gon was simply staring at him, stricken. Obi-Wan's head was hot and aching. He bent his forehead to the cool fabric covering Qui-Gon's knee.

"Master," he said, forcing the words out. "Thank you so much for taking me as your Padawan, and for being there for me on Bandomeer, and afterwards. You believed in me. And I will always do my best to live up to your faith and your trust in me."

There was a heart-beat's pause and Obi-Wan felt the flutter of the pulse in his temple. Once. Twice. Then, with a soft rustle of fabric, two large hands came down to brush gently over the short bristles of his head before coming down to rest on top of his own small hands.

"Oh, my padawan. I would never doubt you." Qui-Gon murmured.

Obi-Wan raised his head to smile tremulously into his master's over-bright eyes.

"Bed now, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon was suddenly brisk, fully the Jedi Master again. "And this time, stay there."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan rose smoothly and headed towards his own room. As he closed the door behind him he suddenly realised something. He had managed to distract his master from his punishment after all.

He smiled. Here he was, 14 years old, a Jedi Padawan, with the best master in the whole order. Life was wonderful.

Fin