DarthLiela – My original upload of the first chapter was unsuccessful, so I removed it instead of simply replacing it. I uploaded the first chapter again before the original post had time to clear, and I think that's why the chapter count is one higher than it should be. And as far as I know, my email is working; only I rarely have time to check it. Apologies for that to you and anyone else who has taken the time to email.

Ginger Ninja – your reviews are priceless. *g* I'm so pleased I could inspire your fic – I've been reading the first one as quickly as I can and reviewing as I go. My next posted story will be dedicated to you ;)

And *lol!!* Becky – Obi drowning himself in the tub!! I almost rewrote the chapter to include that after I read your review! I can just see Qui-Gon – "alright, Padawan, you've been in there long en – aaah!! Obi-Wan!!!!"

Just Easier Than Dealing With the Pain

By Syntyche

Chapter Twelve

Obi-Wan nodded in acquiescence. It would be preferable to clean himself up before … talking – or attempting to yet again, anyway – with his Master. Still, he had to know the answer to one question. Master?

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

When you – when you … saw in—in my mind – Obi-Wan winced at the flash of guilt that rippled through their bond but continued, swallowing past the quaver in his 'voice', what did you see, Master?

He felt Qui-Gon's heavy sigh thread through his hair, and the arm around his shoulders tightened as the man supporting him stiffened. "Obi-Wan, I'm very sorry. It was completely by accident – I ... panicked when you collapsed."

Master, Obi-Wan cut in quietly, now is not the time for apologies, he reminded. Please ... Qui-Gon, he asked seriously, ... tell me what you saw.

"Only hints and shadows," Qui-Gon said quietly. "Nothing else, and nothing definite." He tried not to worry when Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "But the shadows were … dark, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan nodded warily. Yes, Master.

"We will talk about it?"

Yes, Master.

"No avoiding the subject? No running away?" Qui-Gon tried to inject a note of lightness into his voice, but the underlying worry was still there.

Obi-Wan's face fell as his Master reminded him of some of his behaviors of late. No, Master. I will behave as becoming a Jedi.

"Obi-Wan, you've always behaved as a Jedi. A very young one at times, but a Jedi nonetheless." Qui-Gon smiled and cuffed the side of his apprentice's face lightly. "Now get cleaned up. I'll get your fresh clothing."

He earned a tired half-smile by way of acknowledgement, and left to busy himself at the comm. With a minimum of trouble he was able to order a dinner of rather appetizing-sounding soup and bread to be sent to their room. Qui-Gon caught sight of Obi-Wan's small satchel rested on the floor by the couch. Rather than deliver the entire pack to Obi-Wan, he decided to simply collect some clothing for him. Flipping the top open, Qui-Gon was mildly surprised to see his normally neat Padawan had crammed his clothing haphazardly into the pack. No wonder Obi-Wan had been looking so rumpled lately. Qui-Gon shook his head and began to rummage through the satchel.

Obi-Wan gingerly stripped out of his damp, stained tunics. He still felt unbelievably miserable, but he couldn't deny the certain lightness that came with the knowledge that this would all be over soon. Qui-Gon would help him. He'd been a fool to doubt it.

… hadn't he?

Obi-Wan squelched the thought as quickly as it had come. He'd promised his Master, and there was no going back now. He could start slowly, keeping certain things from his Master – his failed suicide attempt, for instance, and his nightmares – and broach those subjects later … maybe, Obi-Wan thought, cringing. Hopefully not. Hopefully never.

Hastily he stepped out of the rest of his clothing and gingerly lowered himself into the steaming bath, sighing as the hot water gently eased some of the tension from his knotted muscles. The bath was of adequate size; not large by any means, but spacious, reflecting the rest of their roomy apartment. Obi-Wan found that he could sufficiently uncurl a body that had been cramped far too long, resting his head on the rim of one end with his toes just barely reaching the opposite length. Ah, the one advantage to being short, he thought with satisfaction. His ever-present headache dimmed somewhat, and Obi-Wan felt his eyelids slowly begin to drift downward as his body relaxed for what he was sure was the first time in months.

He stayed in as long as he dared before Qui-Gon would think he was stalling – a very un-Jedi thing to do, then quickly undid the thin braid that hung over his right shoulder and washing through his hair thoroughly. Obi-Wan climbed from the bath, dripping and tired, but pleased to be feeling clean and somewhat relaxed. He padded across the floor to retrieve a towel from the cabinet Qui-Gon had indicated and scrubbed it through his hair hastily, scattering the short spikes out in various directions, and then knotted the towel around his waist.

Obi-Wan paused before the large mirror over the fresher sink. Of late, he'd only used a mirror long enough to shave or ensure he was completely presentable to accompany his Master. He hadn't actually looked at himself in some time, too wary of what he would see in the eyes of the stranger there.

Suddenly curious, Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to the mirror, but halfway there his courage failed him and they dropped to the floor again. No, he did not want to look there.

He reached for his satchel before he realized it was nowhere in sight. Oh, he realized, I didn't bring it in with me. Qui-Gon said …

Qui-Gon said …

Obi-Wan's thought process crashed to a sudden screaming halt. Qui-Gon had gone to retrieve his clean clothes. Qui-Gon would be looking through his satchel. Qui-Gon would find … would find … And he … oh, no. Oh, no. No, no, no. Stupid!!

Obi-Wan exploded out of the fresher in a blur, but even as he rounded upon the place where his satchel had sat, he knew he was too late. Obi-Wan skidded to a stop before his Master, who was clutching his rumpled, bloodstained tunic in his fist with an expression of stunned disbelief that made Obi-Wan's stomach revolt so violently he thought he would be ill again.

"Master!" Obi-Wan said frantically, but his voice was still rough and all that came out was a harsh-sounding croak. It was enough to make Qui-Gon look up, horrified eyes coming up slowly to alight on his panicked apprentice.

"Obi-Wan?" his Master queried simply, and in his name Obi-Wan heard a myriad of questions at once. Obi-Wan, what is the meaning of this? Obi-Wan, what happened? Obi-Wan, what were you thinking – why didn't you tell me?? Betrayal from the master and shame from the apprentice coursed through the bond, meeting in the middle and suffusing each other. Obi-Wan looked away.

"Obi-Wan, look at me."

He had been trained for years to respond to his Master's commands. Obi-Wan's head obediently lifted, but not before he lifted a bare forearm to press against the sheen of tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. Damn. Idiot. Screwed up again.

"What happened, Obi-Wan? Were you in an accident?"

No, Obi-Wan managed to send quietly.

"Were you attacked?" Qui-Gon pressed. "Tell me, Obi-Wan."

No, Master. A tremor was starting to work its way through the young Jedi's body and he forced it down. Not like this! he wanted to scream. It wasn't supposed to be like this!! Force!! he thought vehemently, making sure not to let his thoughts cross over the bond. Can't I do anything right??

The forearm came up again to press the back of one wrist against the damp eyes, and Qui-Gon's azure eyes were drawn to a new set of scars in the soft skin, one over the wrist, and one up near the elbow …

Qui-Gon felt time ground to a halt as a dozen realizations suddenly clicked into place with what he saw and Obi-Wan's quiet denials. Obi-Wan's earlier admission bit at him: Worthless. He thinks he's worthless. Oh Force. He didn't. He didn't. He did? "Obi-Wan," he said slowly, unable to pull his eyes away from the marked skin. He lifted the tunic, shaking it gently, still staring. "Did you do this?"

Obi-Wan's eyes were wide as he saw where his Master's attention had caught. The arm dropped quickly, but it was far too late. Master, I—I …

Qui-Gon felt like he'd been immersed in a state of absolute horrified immobility. He had. Force, he had. Obi-Wan, his Obi-Wan … he had??

Obi-Wan's eyes dropped to the ground again. "Look at me!" Qui-Gon said sharply, and Obi-Wan's startled gaze immediately flew back up to meet his Master's. "Obi-Wan, was this by your hand?" he demanded, worry heightening the anger in his voice and sending it careening down their bond to crash into his unsteady apprentice. "Did. You. Do. This??" Obi-Wan was very pale, swaying on his feet, but somehow remained upright and answered his Master.

Yes. The word was a breath of a whisper in Qui-Gon's mind.

I've failed was the thought that ran through both minds simultaneously.

After a frozen moment, Qui-Gon forced himself to resume breathing again. Clutching the ruined tunic in one hand, he rose and pressed Obi-Wan's satchel into the young man's unresisting arms with the other. "Go get dressed," he ordered quietly, "and come back."

Yes, Master, Obi-Wan breathed miserably. Any earlier confidence he'd had in talking with his Master had vanished, leaving him a worn, empty shell yet again. He turned slowly and trudged back to the fresher. His knees were shaking and he was sure he would collapse, but somehow he made it, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning against it wearily.

end chapter twelve, and no worries, thirteen will be up by tomorrow evening at the latest, or I'll throw in some gratuitous Obi-torture or something to make up for it. ;)

hey – only one or two chapters to go! :):):)