Just Easier Than Dealing With the Pain

By: Syntyche

Chapter Eight

Obi-Wan made his way back to the apartment he and Qui-Gon had been assigned. He'd left the two native Drymarians behind as quickly as his ingrained politeness would let him – there had been a pain entirely too familiar in the female's eyes, and it had made him acutely uncomfortable.

As he trudged through the quiet streets, his feelings swirled mercilessly. Obi-Wan thought he should first address the whispering in his head, which had only escalated in that he couldn't even kill himself right, and then that he was a coward for regretting it after he'd sliced into his skin; he also thought he ought to consider the implications of the incredible Force storm he'd generated, but …

Obi-Wan only laughed.

He could only shake his head in incredulity at what he had done, what he'd almost done, and what he was doing now – preparing to go back to the apartment and lie like hell to his Master. There was no way Qui-Gon could ever find out about this. It was one more piece Obi-Wan locked away in the dark room of his mind.

A light sort of insanity was bubbling at his brain, a delicious fuzz that kept him from thinking about anything at all. Before, around the time of and during Qui-Gon's absence to Corellia, he had loathed and tried to reject the white noise that continually shattered his concentration and kept him from thinking.

Now, he welcomed it.

It was like a warm, safe blanket and he wrapped himself in it. It was simply lovely.

Obi-Wan reached the apartment, but to his surprise, the rooms were empty.

"Master?"

Nothing. Everything was exactly as he'd left it, down to the half-hidden pile of glittering shards that remained embedded in the carpet from the vase he had shattered in a fit of anger.

It was late. Where would Qui-Gon have gone?

To the President's home?

Out for a walk?

Looking … for him?

He didn't know.

Obi-Wan thought past the white noise for a moment and realized that there was a way he could find his Master. He'd tried to bury their bond as much as possible to keep Qui-Gon from finding out exactly how far into despair his Padawan had sunk, but it might be useful now. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and reached into a part of his mind he'd long closed off.

Master?

Qui-Gon Jinn was frantic. What in Sith hell had Obi-Wan been thinking?? Yoda's warning rang loudly in his mind.

If anything had happened to him …

He'd looked everywhere he could think of. The open café just down the street. Their ship, out at the docking bay. He'd even looked in the little arcade beside the café.

But Qui-Gon refused to give up. His Padawan was hurting, possibly lost, and damn it, the boy was going to talk to him if Qui-Gon had to Sit. On. Him until he did!

It wasn't his first choice, but Obi-Wan had about outgrown his Force-tickling trick.

Master?

The voice was so faint, Qui-Gon wasn't sure if he'd heard it at first. But it is a bit difficult to not hear someone else's voice in your head, he thought to himself wryly, his shoulders slumping in weary relief that his Padawan was reaching for him and he would not have to continue on a fruitless search.

Obi-Wan! he sent back quickly. Where are you??

At our apartment, Master. I – I apologize for leaving, Master, only I –

Qui-Gon interrupted gently. Obi-Wan, save your explanation until I get there. I've been worried. He sent a push of reassurance and love through the open bond.

Obi-Wan shut him out.

Obi-Wan clutched his head in his hand. His head was pounding, and he was unsure whether it was because of the bond he'd re-opened or everything that had happened to him simply crowding to the fore and overwhelming him. Either way, his earlier headache had returned with a vengeance.

Obi-Wan pushed his satchel from the couch where he'd previously dumped it and dropped onto the cushions with a groan, immediately coiling himself unconsciously into a tight ball. The heel of his left hand he pressed hard against his eyes to ward off the pain of the headache. His right hand came up to brace against his chest; he refused to look at or even think about the fresh scar there or the implications of what his subconscious mind had done after he'd collapsed on the knoll.

He hadn't really wanted to die. How funny.

The imprint of love Qui-Gon had sent through their bond soothed his troubled emotions somewhat, but even as Obi-Wan seized it to himself, clinging tightly, the voice in his mind was whispering against the peace it brought, its slithering tendril wrapping its slow way up the imprint and corroding it with its doubts and darkness. The imprint slid out of Obi-Wan's grasp, taking with it the brief comfort in the Force he'd felt and letting the despair come rushing back in.

Oh Force, Obi-Wan thought desperately. A familiar plea came back to him.

Someone help me.

end chapter eight

BTW, yes, Obi-Wan does get a bit of help in the next chapter, so he'll stop saying that. ;) A lot of Obi-Wan's repeated pleas and the never-ending repetition his life has become emphasize the unbreakable circle of despair he feels his life has become.

AND, despite what I said earlier about life not having a beta-reader, you reviewers are so kind, you deserve a lot better than I've given you lately – so expect betaed chapters shortly, with a bit of a tweaking in previously written posts. If there was a part that especially touched you or you liked and you'd rather not see 'tweaked,' let me know. I've gotten so many reviews from considerate readers who like the story, but I'm not sure why you like it … whether it's the Obi-torture factor, or because you can sympathize, or what. So any help is appreciated. Thank you! :)