Note: I really feel that I should thank everyone for all their kind words.
You have no idea how nice it was see them, especially since I'm having such
a difficult time with this fic, which you will probably notice in this
chapter. I think it is just o.k., and I may do a rewrite on it. Tell me
what you think. Anyway, thanks for bothering to read it in the first place!
Catharsis: 3
Qui Gon looked out the window to the gray skies, frowning. The clouds had looked ready to burst for well over an hour, but had not squeezed out one drop of rainwater. Lightening flickered and a throaty rumble of thunder followed in reply. Rii'Diaria was infamous for its severe and frequent storms, and the Jedi Master could sense a particularly intense one was on its way. The owner of the hostel he and Obi Wan had sought shelter at told them they were lucky to have found him; no one should be out in the middle of a storm like the one coming. Just looking at the heavy clouds made the hairs on the back of Qui Gon's neck stand on end.
While searching at Shahn's for something to brace Obi Wan's leg with, he had found just enough credits to afford them a night at a boarding house and a modest meal. He glanced at Obi Wan's plate, which remained untouched. The journey, relatively short as it was, had been grueling for him. He was very weak, and Qui Gon had ended up bearing most of his weight. He remembered all too clearly the lines of pain etched onto the fiercely determined face. He had collapsed twice, seemingly unable to continue, and Qui Gon resorted to sending him bursts of Force energy to sustain him.
Since Rii'Diaria's population was so sparse, Qui Gon had been infinitely relieved to find the small hostel, and once they had rented a room, he settled Obi Wan on the couch and went to the room's communication unit. He contacted the Jedi Temple and made the council aware of their situation. They immediately dispatched another Master/Padawan team to escort Minister Kai to and from the trial proceedings. They also found him a new safe house, which Qui Gon knew nothing about.
Qui Gon couldn't help but not give a damn, for any of it.
The Force was slowly returning to his apprentice and a number of emotions strained against the sluggishly opening bond into Qui Gon's mind.
He felt, firstly, faint traces of misery from his apprentice; then pain. Then dread. He set his plate down on the table of the den and looked at his padawan. The boy had said no more than five words since they left Shahn's, and answered questions with a vague nod or shake of his head. He was curled sideways on the couch, Qui Gon had covered him with his own robe, eager to dispel the youth's uncontrollable shaking. His dazed eyes were staring fixedly at a mark on the wall, wide and glazed looking. His broken leg was stretched out before him, supported by two pillows. His sprained wrist was cradled against his chest; the two broken fingers stiff and red like claws.
The first words that came to Qui Gon's mind were 'empty shell.' He realized, with a pang that was becoming familiar to him, that Obi Wan was exactly that.
"Obi Wan?"
The boy did not respond.
Qui Gon heaved a haggard sigh and passed a hand over his face. He stood and went to see if he could not find bandages or ointments for his padawan's wounds.
***
Obi Wan Kenobi was remembering.
The Force was not as skittish around him as it was before, and he had gratefully let himself slip into a somewhat shaky trance. His mind had been blissfully empty and void of thought for a long time, but then it had treacherously wandered back to sift through memories of the past few days.
He remembered how they had strapped him down to that table and cut him with a vibro shiv, cruelly remarking the already bruised skin. He remembered the pursed lips of the man who did it, the furrow of concentration visible on his brow.
They shocked him with an electro-prod, harshly slamming the buzzing stick down on his abdomen, watching him struggle against his restraints as his muscles seized, cramped, and spasmed.
They had forced him to swallow something thick and yellow and revoltingly bitter, holding his nose so his mouth would have to open. It had made him terribly sick, and his vision had remained blurry for a long time, hours, while he retched and dry heaved between beatings.
Each recollection tore him a little more.
He slipped deeper.
* * *
"Obi Wan." Qui Gon knelt beside his apprentice. "Obi Wan, I'm going to clean your wounds, now." He waited for a response from the teen. He felt a lump rise in his throat at the hollow look in the boy's eyes. "Obi Wan, please." He nudged at the still widening bond between them and found that all attempts to contact his padawan or send comfort through the Force were rejected, shattering against steel like barriers in the adolescent's mind.
"Obi Wan, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you were left alone." He touched the dirty ginger hair, brushed his fingers lightly along the bruises of the thin cheek, and finally curved his broad hand around the slender nape of Obi Wan's neck, trying to warm the resistant flesh by sheer will. He gently pulled Obi Wan forward and unhooked the rigid fingers from his own robe. Then he peeled away Obi Wan's, careful of the cloth that stuck to the wet welts on the boy's back.
He lightly pressed his palm on the ravaged, heated skin, sending soothing energies to the wounds. Qui Gon was no healer, but was determined to comfort his padawan in any way he could.
There had been balm in the refresher, and he smoothed the cool oil on Obi Wan's back. The effect was immediate; dirt and blood began to ooze out from the cuts, and Qui Gon carefully wiped it away with a clean, moist rag.
As he worked, Qui Gon talked softly to his apprentice, unable to stand the stifling silence. Knowing any attempts at a conversation would prove to be fruitless, he voiced his thoughts, hoping to clear his head.
"Kai will be safe with Master Theza, I don't doubt it. Shahn will never find him in time for the trial." His movements were rhythmic, gently digging at the grime and coaxing it out.
"Still," he went on, pausing to glance out the window at the ominously dark sky, "I can't help but feel something is wrong, something is going to happen."
It was more than a feeling. The moment they escaped Shahn's the Force had been whispering to him, tugging at his mind, telling him to beware. He shook his head and resumed cleaning.
"I can't figure out what it is. We'll leave for the Mienke Sector tomorrow, get the shuttle, and go." He repeated the words and nodded resolutely, pushing his suspicions to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on Obi Wan. He stilled his hand and sighed.
This was no good.
"Obi Wan," he said quietly, gently pushing at their bond, putting a persistant pressure on the boy's shields. "Padawan, I'm here." He put the rag down and moved around to face his apprentice, sitting on the edge of the couch, careful of the outstretched leg. He took Obi Wan's chin in his hand and lifted the head up, forced the dull eyes to meet his own.
"Obi Wan. Stop this." He struggled to keep his voice firm. The long lashes of the boy before him fluttered and brushed against the bone paleness of his cheeks. Qui Gon touched his padawan's shoulders, gripping them in faint desperation, before his hands roamed back to the young man's blank face; as if by touch he could restore the unresponsive husk with spirit and life. He pleaded silently with the stronghold of barriers which guarded Obi Wan's mind, cursed Bro'ven Shahn for his horrific cruelty, and berated himself for not having been there for his student.
"I'm here, Padawan," he said ardently, "Obi Wan, you're not alone."
* * *
Obi Wan shuddered and drew in a hitching, labored breath. He raised his gaze to Qui Gon's and blinked. It was as if he saw his master for the first time.
The older man's face was lined and creased with worry and concern. Dark smudges cupped tired pale blue eyes like half moons. He felt the echo of something in a far corner of his mind, something so familiar and just out of reach it made him ache. He searched for the source and discovered the nagging was his bond with his master. Qui Gon was trying to reach him.
Obi Wan held his initial joy at arm's length and tentatively reached for his master through the bond. His endeavor clumsily bounced off walls he had not realized were there. He struggled to gain control over the shields, and as soon as he did they crumbled with an abruptness with startled him. He was immediately cast in the warmth of his master's caring. It was a shock to his system, this sudden rush of Force power and the light of the older Jedi was like dawn, driving away the shadows of abandonment; the icy, numb feeling of loneliness. It fought back his doubts and they receded. It assuaged his grief and soothed his aches. The turmoil inside the young Jedi was eased and finally it dissipated, was replaced by a peaceful calm, gently lapping at the leftover fragments of his desolateness like mild waves on a beach, and carried them away to be lost in the wake of his master's compassion.
* * *
Obi Wan sagged against his master with a woeful sob.
"Obi Wan!" Qui Gon cried. He had felt the shields fall, saw the youth's pain. He continued to send encouraging waves of love and peace to the trembling figure leaning against him. He had caught fleeting images of what had been done to Obi Wan. The worries and fears the young Jedi had carried with him even after Qui Gon rescued him made the older man's heart ache. He folded his arms around the boy and bent his head to rest his cheek on the ginger hair.
"Oh, child," he said helplessly, knowing what he had to say, but at a loss as to where he should begin. "Oh, my dear child."
Somehow he had made himself believe it was not as bad as it had looked. Somehow he had made himself forget what he had seen with his own eyes, what he had heard even after the separation. What he saw when he first found Obi Wan. He was horrified at both himself, for not coming to his student sooner, and Shahn, for inflicting such misery on his padawan. He floundered for words to comfort the boy but found none.
Qui Gon simply held him tighter.
Catharsis: 3
Qui Gon looked out the window to the gray skies, frowning. The clouds had looked ready to burst for well over an hour, but had not squeezed out one drop of rainwater. Lightening flickered and a throaty rumble of thunder followed in reply. Rii'Diaria was infamous for its severe and frequent storms, and the Jedi Master could sense a particularly intense one was on its way. The owner of the hostel he and Obi Wan had sought shelter at told them they were lucky to have found him; no one should be out in the middle of a storm like the one coming. Just looking at the heavy clouds made the hairs on the back of Qui Gon's neck stand on end.
While searching at Shahn's for something to brace Obi Wan's leg with, he had found just enough credits to afford them a night at a boarding house and a modest meal. He glanced at Obi Wan's plate, which remained untouched. The journey, relatively short as it was, had been grueling for him. He was very weak, and Qui Gon had ended up bearing most of his weight. He remembered all too clearly the lines of pain etched onto the fiercely determined face. He had collapsed twice, seemingly unable to continue, and Qui Gon resorted to sending him bursts of Force energy to sustain him.
Since Rii'Diaria's population was so sparse, Qui Gon had been infinitely relieved to find the small hostel, and once they had rented a room, he settled Obi Wan on the couch and went to the room's communication unit. He contacted the Jedi Temple and made the council aware of their situation. They immediately dispatched another Master/Padawan team to escort Minister Kai to and from the trial proceedings. They also found him a new safe house, which Qui Gon knew nothing about.
Qui Gon couldn't help but not give a damn, for any of it.
The Force was slowly returning to his apprentice and a number of emotions strained against the sluggishly opening bond into Qui Gon's mind.
He felt, firstly, faint traces of misery from his apprentice; then pain. Then dread. He set his plate down on the table of the den and looked at his padawan. The boy had said no more than five words since they left Shahn's, and answered questions with a vague nod or shake of his head. He was curled sideways on the couch, Qui Gon had covered him with his own robe, eager to dispel the youth's uncontrollable shaking. His dazed eyes were staring fixedly at a mark on the wall, wide and glazed looking. His broken leg was stretched out before him, supported by two pillows. His sprained wrist was cradled against his chest; the two broken fingers stiff and red like claws.
The first words that came to Qui Gon's mind were 'empty shell.' He realized, with a pang that was becoming familiar to him, that Obi Wan was exactly that.
"Obi Wan?"
The boy did not respond.
Qui Gon heaved a haggard sigh and passed a hand over his face. He stood and went to see if he could not find bandages or ointments for his padawan's wounds.
***
Obi Wan Kenobi was remembering.
The Force was not as skittish around him as it was before, and he had gratefully let himself slip into a somewhat shaky trance. His mind had been blissfully empty and void of thought for a long time, but then it had treacherously wandered back to sift through memories of the past few days.
He remembered how they had strapped him down to that table and cut him with a vibro shiv, cruelly remarking the already bruised skin. He remembered the pursed lips of the man who did it, the furrow of concentration visible on his brow.
They shocked him with an electro-prod, harshly slamming the buzzing stick down on his abdomen, watching him struggle against his restraints as his muscles seized, cramped, and spasmed.
They had forced him to swallow something thick and yellow and revoltingly bitter, holding his nose so his mouth would have to open. It had made him terribly sick, and his vision had remained blurry for a long time, hours, while he retched and dry heaved between beatings.
Each recollection tore him a little more.
He slipped deeper.
* * *
"Obi Wan." Qui Gon knelt beside his apprentice. "Obi Wan, I'm going to clean your wounds, now." He waited for a response from the teen. He felt a lump rise in his throat at the hollow look in the boy's eyes. "Obi Wan, please." He nudged at the still widening bond between them and found that all attempts to contact his padawan or send comfort through the Force were rejected, shattering against steel like barriers in the adolescent's mind.
"Obi Wan, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you were left alone." He touched the dirty ginger hair, brushed his fingers lightly along the bruises of the thin cheek, and finally curved his broad hand around the slender nape of Obi Wan's neck, trying to warm the resistant flesh by sheer will. He gently pulled Obi Wan forward and unhooked the rigid fingers from his own robe. Then he peeled away Obi Wan's, careful of the cloth that stuck to the wet welts on the boy's back.
He lightly pressed his palm on the ravaged, heated skin, sending soothing energies to the wounds. Qui Gon was no healer, but was determined to comfort his padawan in any way he could.
There had been balm in the refresher, and he smoothed the cool oil on Obi Wan's back. The effect was immediate; dirt and blood began to ooze out from the cuts, and Qui Gon carefully wiped it away with a clean, moist rag.
As he worked, Qui Gon talked softly to his apprentice, unable to stand the stifling silence. Knowing any attempts at a conversation would prove to be fruitless, he voiced his thoughts, hoping to clear his head.
"Kai will be safe with Master Theza, I don't doubt it. Shahn will never find him in time for the trial." His movements were rhythmic, gently digging at the grime and coaxing it out.
"Still," he went on, pausing to glance out the window at the ominously dark sky, "I can't help but feel something is wrong, something is going to happen."
It was more than a feeling. The moment they escaped Shahn's the Force had been whispering to him, tugging at his mind, telling him to beware. He shook his head and resumed cleaning.
"I can't figure out what it is. We'll leave for the Mienke Sector tomorrow, get the shuttle, and go." He repeated the words and nodded resolutely, pushing his suspicions to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on Obi Wan. He stilled his hand and sighed.
This was no good.
"Obi Wan," he said quietly, gently pushing at their bond, putting a persistant pressure on the boy's shields. "Padawan, I'm here." He put the rag down and moved around to face his apprentice, sitting on the edge of the couch, careful of the outstretched leg. He took Obi Wan's chin in his hand and lifted the head up, forced the dull eyes to meet his own.
"Obi Wan. Stop this." He struggled to keep his voice firm. The long lashes of the boy before him fluttered and brushed against the bone paleness of his cheeks. Qui Gon touched his padawan's shoulders, gripping them in faint desperation, before his hands roamed back to the young man's blank face; as if by touch he could restore the unresponsive husk with spirit and life. He pleaded silently with the stronghold of barriers which guarded Obi Wan's mind, cursed Bro'ven Shahn for his horrific cruelty, and berated himself for not having been there for his student.
"I'm here, Padawan," he said ardently, "Obi Wan, you're not alone."
* * *
Obi Wan shuddered and drew in a hitching, labored breath. He raised his gaze to Qui Gon's and blinked. It was as if he saw his master for the first time.
The older man's face was lined and creased with worry and concern. Dark smudges cupped tired pale blue eyes like half moons. He felt the echo of something in a far corner of his mind, something so familiar and just out of reach it made him ache. He searched for the source and discovered the nagging was his bond with his master. Qui Gon was trying to reach him.
Obi Wan held his initial joy at arm's length and tentatively reached for his master through the bond. His endeavor clumsily bounced off walls he had not realized were there. He struggled to gain control over the shields, and as soon as he did they crumbled with an abruptness with startled him. He was immediately cast in the warmth of his master's caring. It was a shock to his system, this sudden rush of Force power and the light of the older Jedi was like dawn, driving away the shadows of abandonment; the icy, numb feeling of loneliness. It fought back his doubts and they receded. It assuaged his grief and soothed his aches. The turmoil inside the young Jedi was eased and finally it dissipated, was replaced by a peaceful calm, gently lapping at the leftover fragments of his desolateness like mild waves on a beach, and carried them away to be lost in the wake of his master's compassion.
* * *
Obi Wan sagged against his master with a woeful sob.
"Obi Wan!" Qui Gon cried. He had felt the shields fall, saw the youth's pain. He continued to send encouraging waves of love and peace to the trembling figure leaning against him. He had caught fleeting images of what had been done to Obi Wan. The worries and fears the young Jedi had carried with him even after Qui Gon rescued him made the older man's heart ache. He folded his arms around the boy and bent his head to rest his cheek on the ginger hair.
"Oh, child," he said helplessly, knowing what he had to say, but at a loss as to where he should begin. "Oh, my dear child."
Somehow he had made himself believe it was not as bad as it had looked. Somehow he had made himself forget what he had seen with his own eyes, what he had heard even after the separation. What he saw when he first found Obi Wan. He was horrified at both himself, for not coming to his student sooner, and Shahn, for inflicting such misery on his padawan. He floundered for words to comfort the boy but found none.
Qui Gon simply held him tighter.
