something to frown about, not something to draw up a will about yet. So, thank you. Your kind thoughts
were much appreciated this week of anxiety.
To Whom Loyalty is Owed
By: Syntyche
Chapter Three
The wind whipped and pulled at his long hair as he turned slowly in
a circle, remembering what had
transpired on this spot. A strike here, a parry, a thrust … Qui-Gon's
bright blue eyes surveyed the area
where he'd fought his first battle with the Sith. Unprepared for the
strength of his opponent, the Master
had narrowly escaped defeat at the dark warrior's hands.
Though still early morning, Tatooine's suns had already dissipated the
night-time desert chill and
warmed the sands that his boots sunk into as he walked for his morning
exercise. At his request, K'laha,
the Healer who had accompanied him and Anakin to Tatooine to continue
to monitor his rate of healing,
had remained at the Skywalker home with Anakin and Shmi while Qui-Gon
went ahead to do his early morning
meditations alone. He knew that if he did not return at the time K'laha
had appointed, the Healer would set
out after him and drag him back to the small abode. Taking a quick
inventory of the pains he was already
feeling from his short trek to the outskirts of Mos Espa, Qui-Gon wasn't
sure if that wasn't what would
ultimately happen anyway.
Qui-Gon completed his reflection and closed his eyes in an attempt to center himself.
"Qui-Gon, sir?"
The youthful voice interrupted his effort at calm, but he didn't mind
so much. Peering at the new arrival,
he greeted him with a question. "Anakin. What are you doing out here?"
The small boy offered him a conspiratorial grin. "Following you." His
grin faded. "I wanted to speak with
you privately, sir."
Qui-Gon nodded. "Very well. A few minutes, and then we must start heading back, young Ani."
The grin widened. "Healer K'laha's really stubborn, isn't she?"
"Even more so than me, I think," Qui-Gon admitted with a rueful laugh.
"Now … what did you want to
talk about?"
Anakin fiddled with the hem of his Jedi tunic for a short moment, his
nervousness palpable. "I didn't mean
to cause any problems, Qui-Gon, sir."
Qui-Gon's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The piercing call of
a Krayyt Dragon broke the desert silence
with its far off, mournful wail. "Suppose you tell me what you've done
now, Ani?" he asked with a small smile
as he carefully lowered himself to the boy's level. He winced as the
movement pulled at the healing skin on
his abdomen.
Anakin didn't return the smile. His normally bright eyes were sad as
they studied the sand at his feet. "I was …
listening … to you and Mom last night. Master, sir, I didn't mean to
complain, but I told Mom when we got
here that I missed her and that being a Jedi isn't like I thought it
would be. And that I wanted you to be my
Master because Obi-Wan doesn't want me. And the Council doesn't, either!
I didn't know she'd come to
you about it, sir." Anakin's new boot scuffed in the sand and he refused
to lift his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's.
Qui-Gon leaned back on his heels, rocking gently as he considered the
young boy's admission. "Ani – "
he began hesitantly, but was interrupted by Anakin's sudden cry of
despair.
"I didn't mean to cause trouble, Master Qui-Gon, honest! I'll tell Mom
that I really do want to be a Jedi!
'Cause I really do, sir, only I was mad about not having you for a
Master and not getting to build a lightsaber
and do cool Jedi things yet! I'm really sorry." Anakin was sniffling
in earnest, and Qui-Gon felt his heart
go out to the young boy.
"Ani, come here," he said gently, taking the sniffling boy into his
arms and hugging him tightly. "Anakin,
listen to me." He tilted the small chin upward, absently remembering
a time when Obi-Wan had permitted
his Master to comfort him this way. But there had been many hardships
along the road of his former
Padawan's training. Obi-Wan's self-doubt and fear of being cast aside,
coupled with Qui-Gon's reluctance
to trust a Padawan after his second apprentice, Xanatos, had turned
to darkness, had driven many a wedge
into their bond. Qui-Gon's latest "stray," Anakin, had not only been
the latest stumbling block between
he and his Padawan in their professional relationship … it had also
strained their friendship to a point of
each being uncomfortable in the proximity of the other – he knew that
Obi-Wan felt it, too.
Qui-Gon shook off these thoughts. There was a little boy who needed his attention.
"Anakin, it's all right," he shushed. "We'll work this out with your
mother and with Obi-Wan when we
return to Coruscant. Okay?"
Anakin lifted tear-bright eyes from Qui-Gon's shoulder.
His eyes are bluer than Obi-Wan's; Obi-Wan's have grey in them,
Qui-Gon thought as he brushed the
sandy, short hair through with his fingers. "Okay?" he prompted the
boy, with an earnest smile.
"Yes, sir," Anakin replied dutifully, giving Qui-Gon a small smile in
return, but his demeanor remained
uneasy. "Qui-Gon, sir … please, couldn't you take me back as your Padawan?"
Qui-Gon sighed. If only he could … but Obi-Wan's sense of duty would
not allow him to renege the
task he had accepted as his own, and the former Padawan's honor and
pride would be severely bowed
and his confidence in his abilities as a teacher broken if Qui-Gon
asked to transfer apprenticeship of
Anakin back to him. He could just imagine how the self-conscious Obi-Wan
would take the request:
'Well, Obi-Wan, since it turns out I'm not going to die, I really think
I would make a better teacher than
you, so could you please formally transfer Anakin's apprenticeship
back to me? I think the Council
will go along with it now ... ' No, to do that to Obi-Wan would be
nothing short of cruel.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon said regretfully, "I would very much like to take
you as my Padawan learner" – and in
admitting that to the boy he knew he had compounded the problem tenfold
– "but Obi-Wan is officially
your Master at this point. It would be … unwise for me to seek for
the Council and Obi-Wan to hand your
tutelage over to me." He rose, ignoring the protests of his stiff knees
and the ache in his abdomen. "Come.
Healer K'laha will be worried." Anakin's hand slipped into his and
he squeezed it reassuringly. "Obi-Wan is
a good man and a good teacher, Anakin. I know he has been … busy,"
Qui-Gon winced, "of late, but you
must be willing to give him a chance, Ani. This is new for him, too."
Qui-Gon could feel Anakin's disappointment, but the boy made a valiant effort not to show it. "All right."
"Good boy," Qui-Gon said approvingly. "Now … let's hurry before K'laha sends out the troops!"
~*~*~
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated on his handstand. Carefully
he lifted his left hand off the decking,
extending it to the side. Then up … supported only by the fingers of
his right hand. He remained focused on
his balance, fighting to keep his body aerodynamically straight as
he curled his fingers in slowly until only
one remained on the floor.
It was an easy exercise, but one that always brought him calm because
of its simplicity. Obi-Wan opened
his eyes and surveyed the hold from his new vantage point. The small
room was clean and neat; blinking
consoles lined two of the shock-padded walls, and a small holochess
table was tucked into a corner. His robe
and over tunic were precisely folded and placed on the corner of the
flight couch. Obi-Wan twisted his face
slightly, waiting for the familiar brush that always accompanied the
movement. It didn't come. With a sudden
flash of insight, Obi-Wan realized that this was the first time he'd
performed this exercise without the symbol
of his apprenticeship dangling in his face.
The realization startled him. His concentration suddenly shattered,
Obi-Wan tipped over and tumbled to the
decking, tucking his shoulder under hastily in a quick roll and springing
to his feet without conscious thought.
Damn, he thought savagely, scrubbing a forearm over his eyes
harshly. Enough of that, Kenobi. You're
a Knight and a teacher now – act like it!
Obi-Wan's breath seemed to leave him in an exhausted rush and he stumbled
to the flight couch, crossing
his arms on the tabletop wearily and allowing his head to drop onto
them. He'd not only neglected Anakin,
his Padawan, during Qui-Gon's recovery, he'd neglected himself as well
and his body was quite loudly
protesting his mistreatment of it. His rubbery legs refused to support
his weight, so Obi-Wan allowed himself
to melt into the comfort of the flight couch.
So this is what gelatin feels like, he thought absently, his
eyes closing of their own accord and his breathing
slowing as his body relaxed.
The Captain should continue to be occupied with resetting the flight
plan for at least some time yet – they'd
had to detour around a particularly nasty ion storm that had wreaked
havoc on the ship's instruments. And
there was no one else aboard but him, and no reason for him to be The
Venerable Jedi Knight for at least a
little while longer. So maybe he didn't have to open his eyes just
yet …
But he should read the mission texts. He really should. Obi-Wan's right
eye slid open. He wasn't ready.
He needed to study. He couldn't sleep. He …
Well, maybe for a minute, his tired mind suggested and Obi-Wan nodded somnolently in agreement.
Okay. Ten minutes, then we study, okay?
Two hours later, Captain Ahazi Suul strode through the hold on her way
to her cabin to rest for the night
and stopped short when she saw the body of the Jedi slumped over the
holochess table. He looked incredibly,
impossibly young, but even in sleep the fine lines remained etched
in his features.
"Kest, they're turning them out young these days," she mumbled as she
retrieved a blanket from a storage
compartment and draped it over his shoulders. The young Jedi stirred
and mumbled in his sleep; it sounded
like a thank you but Ahazi wasn't sure.
"Poor kid," she murmured, although he was likely less than a decade
younger than she. She gave him a last
look of pity as she scaled the lights down to dim for the night. "Poor
kid."
end chapter three
Thanks for being patient thus far. The story is completed but for a
few more of these beginning chapters,
and I'm just not getting the time to write them. And I've been cursed
with the dreaded Writer's Block.
I could just jump straight to the middle, cause I know you're
all sticking around for the obi-torture anyway ... ;)