Kinda long part ahead, guys – just a warning :D Okay, I've kept you long enough so…enjoy!! And thanks again for the fantastic feedback on this fic, you've all been terrific!
Gone From Danger - Part 5/?
Obi-Wan couldn't help staring as he walked down the tiny Republic shuttle's ramp with Qui-Gon, followed by the quiet female Knight, Tiperis, who had brought them to this nameless, secure planet. The location appeared idyllic: a large, ancient stone house, surrounded by sprawling, flowering trees; in the distance, tall mountains straddled the horizon, clouds gathered about them like shawls. Despite the tiny sun that glared overhead, a large, gibbous moon hung low in the lilac sky, framed perfectly between two peaks in the mountains.
It was the lake beside the house that caught him off-guard, stretching out before him like an echo of another place, its waters disturbed by a faint breeze, knots of silvery, delicate trees adorning the sandy banks. Similar, yet so crucially different – here, there was no Sashri.
A massive shadow flitted across the stretch of short grass between the shuttle and the house, startling Obi-Wan, and he looked upward to see a ponderous, bird-like creature gliding not far above, its vast, membranous wings translucent in the sunlight. The bird's narrow head turned lazily, studying them, and it let out a tremulous fluting call, dipped its wings and banked away.
As he watched it go, he felt a flicker of pain, brief but severe, deep within his head, where he knew the hub of the neural web lay temporarily dormant, prompting a gasp of surprise and bringing him up short. There had been nausea before, his body's reaction to the web's continued infiltration of his nervous system, but never pain, and the manifestation of that pain at the implant's very source could not be dismissed as coincidence.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon eyed him worriedly.
Obi-Wan didn't reply at once, giving himself a cursory inspection to ensure that the web hadn't reactivated; now that he knew of its presence, Obi-Wan was acutely aware of the implant inside him and could easily trace the fine, branching network of material that wove through his body at a microscopic level. To his relief, it remained inert, and he turned to Qui-Gon with an evasive gesture. "I'm fine." He looked back at the view, cocking his head. "It's…pretty, don't you think?"
His Master's gaze lingered on him for a moment before moving away to take in the scenery. "Delightful," he answered quietly, the trace of a reluctant smile lessening his anxious frown. Had he not been so preoccupied with Obi-Wan's health, he would have relished the strong manifestations of the Living Force he sensed here and the peace of mind he might have found within them. However, considering the danger that his Padawan faced, he wouldn't allow himself even that small pleasure until the situation was resolved.
Halting by his side, Knight Tiperis drew a breath and sighed, enjoying the scent-burdened wind, then glanced at the two of them and continued toward the house; wordlessly, Obi-Wan trailed her a few steps behind, and Qui-Gon blinked in surprise as the boy instinctively balanced his gait to suit Tiperis', keeping pace with her without appearing rushed. The change was automatic enough to be almost undetectable, and he doubted the Knight noticed it – he had never observed it until now. It was clearly a sign of respect rather than a submissive action, for Obi-Wan easily held his own in the other Jedi's wake despite his comparative youth, carrying himself with dignity, although Qui-Gon could see that the quiet confidence his Padawan had gained over the years was absent.
The Master felt his throat tighten with unbidden grief. This was what the Order stood to lose, and what he himself could not bear to lose: an intelligent young man with the natural grace and assurance of a Knight, someone to be regarded not as a boy but an equal, in spite of how much he still had to learn.
Unnoticed, the fourth occupant of the shuttle, a willowy Jedi Healer known as Raeshin, strolled down the ramp, squinting in the sunlight. His simple tunics and pale tousled hair, together with an open, cheerful face and an expression that was perpetually bemused, misled an observer into assuming he was a man of no importance, while in truth, his skills as a Healer were unparalleled on Coruscant.
"Master Jinn?" he asked mildly, coming abreast of Qui-Gon at the bottom of the ramp, taking note of the direction of the other man's gaze when he didn't look at the Healer. "Ah. You fear for your apprentice."
Qui-Gon had no reply for the statement beyond a simple nod. Fear. Some Jedi would shy away from the word and the weight it carried within the Order – the impending threat of the Dark Side – but Qui-Gon had always believed that fear could counsel, especially at times when emotions were unavoidable. It offered none now yet, watching Obi-Wan, its presence was undeniable.
As if conscious of the appraisal, Obi-Wan slowed and turned, revealing a haggard face and dull, mildly questioning eyes, his despondency evident in the faint slump of his shoulders, unknowingly dispelling the aura around him. He tilted his head, and both Master and Healer were drawn forward in response to the unspoken query. Ahead of them, Tiperis was already on the stone veranda in front of the house, pushing the door open and peering inside.
The room beyond the doorway was large and airy, if decidedly austere in its lack of personal touch, although the ceiling appeared to be decorated. A few tall, ramrod-straight plants lurked in sunlit corners like silent sentries, their draping leaves drawn about them in a rather furtive manner. Tiperis entered, the soles of her boots tapping across the wooden floor, conscious of the other Jedi behind her as she lifted her face to study the odd grooves engraved into the ceiling, trying to find order in a mêlée of whorls and jarringly sharp angles. If there was a pattern to the chaos, she couldn't see it.
Obi-Wan joined her, staring upward, and for a moment she was struck by the pallor of his skin, realising for the first time how drawn the Padawan seemed. She had spoken to him on the shuttle, but she couldn't recall him looking as unwell as he did now; could he have deteriorated in such a short time?
"Light and dark," he said unexpectedly, and lifted a finger to sketch a spiral in the air, copying the example above them. "The Force that we touch, the Light, is something we can't predict or fully understand," he explained, and showed the spiral unravelling into an undulating curve, "but know regardless." His finger moved, pointing to one of the straight lines. "The Dark is alien to us, a power to balance against the Light – evil manifested, eternally unchanging." He traced the abrupt angle in the line. "Yet we often find it is as unpredictable as the Light."
Tiperis was rapt, unconsciously leaning close to the younger Jedi. "What else do you see?" she prompted, curious.
The Padawan frowned at the design on the ceiling, his finger still following the line. "The Dark can be a willing servant, but," another veering angle, "it leads you." He paused at a point where the line intersected with another spiral, glancing at Tiperis and smiling shyly. "In the end, though, you can always find your way back to the Light," he finished, lowering his hand.
"Well said!" the Knight remarked with unashamed admiration, glancing from the ceiling to Obi-Wan. "I doubt a Master could have bettered that explanation."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured, suddenly looking unsteady, and he put a hand to his temple. "I'm a little tired," he admitted to her alarmed expression, shifting as though to find better footing, then staggered and dropped to one knee, clutching his head in both hands now, obviously in pain.
Qui-Gon, who had been ascending a short flight of stairs opposite the door to inspect the building's upper levels, caught Obi-Wan's distress through the Force and hurried back down to his Padawan, kneeling beside him and calling out for Healer Raeshin. Weeping helplessly, Obi-Wan slumped into his Master's arms with a thin moan, curling against him in search of relief. The agony in his head robbed him of his voice, silencing any cries he might have made; his vision blurred, and Obi-Wan thought the pain might be taking his sight too, before realising that he was losing consciousness.
"Raeshin!" the Jedi Master roared, watching Obi-Wan's eyes unfocus and begin to close, his Padawan sagging in his grip. Where is that blasted Healer? he thought frantically. Force knows what that web is doing inside him! "Obi-Wan, stay with me!" Qui-Gon was barely aware of Tiperis' slim form darting away to retrieve the absent Healer. "Obi-Wan, please!"
The boy blinked sluggishly – only one eye remained open, and no more than partially so, while the other closed completely, but he was roused to full consciousness seconds later when a sensation akin to claustrophobia swept through him. His body reacted and his hand, fisted in Qui-Gon's tunic as he fought the pain, flexed and pressed into his Master's chest, the fingers curling into a familiar Force-push gesture.
Obi-Wan felt the web activating within him, countermanding his own belated attempts to prevent the push, responding to Qui-Gon's proximity much as it had with the Kaatuu fighters' attack…a threat. The summons of the Force was instantaneous, and the expulsion came a moment later, although with an immense, agonising effort he managed to reduce the power of the blow. Qui-Gon grunted in shock, knocked back into a half-sprawl, somehow holding onto his Padawan despite the push, then struggled into a sitting position; spent, Obi-Wan collapsed, distantly relieved when the pain in his head ebbed, the implant lapsing into quiescence once more.
Both were too stunned to move. Obi-Wan was left incoherent in the aftermath of overwhelming pain, huddling into Qui-Gon, his breaths emerging in shuddering gasps, his eyes wide and staring, fastened to a spot on the polished floor where sunlight and shadows danced through a broad window, a play of light and dark, more exhausted in body and spirit than he could ever remember feeling, yet sleep seemed farther from him now than ever before.
Fingers brushed demandingly across his cheek, capturing his attention and leading his gaze up to Qui-Gon's. "Obi-Wan," he urged in a tone that suggested he'd been calling for a while.
"It's stopped," Obi-Wan replied hesitantly. "I-I'm all right now." The words sounded hollow even to himself, and the frown that puckered Qui-Gon's forehead was evidence enough that the older Jedi was far from convinced.
"We'll let the Healer decide that, Padawan," he chided softly. If he ever turns up.
Obi-Wan pulled away slightly. "Master, I could have hurt you. This implant is dangerous…I am dangerous." He tried to move further, but a combination of weakness and Qui-Gon's sharp words of "Stay put!" kept him in place.
"You are still my Padawan, Obi-Wan, no matter what anyone else has inflicted on you." He smiled and ran his hand through the boy's hair, letting his fingers settle near his right ear, just above the root of his braid, trying to reassure through voice and touch. "You are not dangerous," he whispered.
Obi-Wan lolled again, relaxing, and watched the light and shadows move on the floor with weary eyes. Light and Dark, he thought foggily, his expression forlorn. He heard the clatter of boots and Raeshin's voice, but didn't look up, aware of a haze creeping across his vision.
Darkness was consuming him, just as the implant was, and he was powerless against it – it was a different kind of evil he faced, quite separate from the influence of the Dark Side, one that he didn't know how to define or fight. Would it change him, once it had saturated his body and devoured his mind? He knew he was losing himself, that even in his heightened Force-awareness, caused by the Lamarin web, he had never been farther from the touch of the Force. It was still there, surrounding him as it always had and bringing a sense of normality, but he didn't dare reach out to it for fear of setting the implant off. He had come to terms with his fate, but the thought that the Force might be lost to him permanently frightened him more than the possibility of death.
Obi-Wan turned his face into Qui-Gon's tunic, oblivious of Raeshin when the Healer crouched beside him, remembering the words he had spoken to Tiperis. You can always find your way back to the Light. Was that true? What if he couldn't find his way back?
Obi-Wan felt a cool hand on his neck, a finger sliding along the carotid artery in the exposed side of his neck, and he flinched, looking round to see Raeshin, his sight so clouded that he barely recognised the Healer.
"I don't have the facilities to heal the kind of internal damage I'm sensing," the man was saying, shaking his head. "Even if I did, it would help little. That implant will kill him if its growth is not curbed soon, but I don't know how to do that."
"What can you do?" Qui-Gon asked softly, subduing his panic.
"I can slow the bleeding and try to stabilise him, perhaps." Raeshin sighed. "There is enough bacta in my packs to heal the critical injuries, and a trance might stop the others from worsening. Neither will solve the problem, though."
"I understand." Qui-Gon's anguish was clear, and Obi-Wan started to speak, hoping to comfort his Master, then fell silent at a touch to his temple which was accompanied by a familiar Force suggestion, sinking into a doze that would shortly deepen into a healing trance.
Darkness claimed him a moment later, and the nightmares began again.
tbc...