Wow! It's only been two days. This part was so much easier to write than the last, and almost came in a flash. I hope you enjoy, but don't get too spoiled. ;)

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TITLE: MILES TO GO
AUTHOR: Cascadia
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19
RATING: PG or PG-13
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.




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CHAPTER 5 - FADING HOPES



As if staring through darkened glass would bring to light all the unknown, safely guarded, stored knowledge of the eons of the ages, and bring some imaginary order to the chaos of things, Qui-Gon Jinn stared out the front viewscreen of the shuttlecraft he had borrowed, searching for the tiniest of hints of where to look for his missing padawan.

There was nothing to go on - no subtle Force vibrations, no beaming signal, nothing with the barest, minimal clue as to what direction to fly in, or what planet to go to. In essence, he was wandering the galaxy, flying here and there with no cause for direction. He was drifting... alone. There was no one else to accompany him. There was no cause for anyone else to come.

If there was any reason - though one should not call it reason - for the direction he took, it remained purposely cloaked, masked behind his armored heart, fearful of being seen and revealed as a tragic hoax, and the haggard man behind the craft's controls would never dare let that occur.

When the time came for him to acknowledge that all of this had been a waste of time - if it ever came to that, and he prayed that it never would - then, and only then, would he return to the Jedi Temple. And if that time ever came, then he would not only return without his padawan, but also without his heart.

Where was the Force on all of this? Qui-Gon had wondered in agitation. Where was its sublime, magnificent hand in this? Did it not care that one specific - very important, very loved padawan - was missing?

His midnight blue gaze intensely glared at the prismatic dust shining like polished crystals on a beach of ivory sand under the burning Catarman sun. The beautiful display of the Plianatudes gleamed purest crimson, dazzling lime and gold - luminous and unyielding in a corner of the heavens claimed all its own.

Yet even in all its surpassing transplendence, even this eye-catching nebula grew strangely dim in the light of the wonderful, bright presence of the one, young soul who had captured the heart of the Jedi master as sure as a tropical ocean captures the light of the rising morning sun.

Tearing his eyes away, the Jedi master fought the swell of tears rising from his eyes of sorrow. The Plianatudes was a source for endless staring and contemplation by a certain Jedi padawan. That agonizing thought - and a dreadful million others - served to drag Qui-Gon's misery out in the open, to expose his vulnerability to the heavens and the stars who could all care less.

With a simple remembrance of a system nearby, the Jedi master hesitantly entered the coordinates in the navi-computer and prepared to enter hyperspace again. He would follow his instincts. He would pray that the Force would guide him... wherever he needed to go.



~*~



If there was a word - or even a simple phrase - for how it feels to suddenly realize you might end up the midnight snack of a very large, very long, and very intimidating looking creature, then that - by all explanations in the celestial cosmos - was exactly how Obi-Wan felt.

When he had first laid eyes on the serpentine creature before him, all rational thought had melted away like an ice sheet on Tatooine, leaving only a very small inkling of escape floating at the edge of his cognizance. But, oh, how he yearned to be away - far away; and as his lucidity returned, in all its fascinating and frustrating glory, the creature was still there, and he was still the answer to the hungry reflection in its eyes.

With a strange detachment from himself that the padawan found slightly disturbing, he suddenly wandered how he would taste to such a predatory creature, but that notion would never be explored if he had any say at all in the matter.

It moved slowly, hypnotically, in a charming manner with graceful curves, dancing in an impressive show of exotic mystery, mesmerizing in a form of seduction, its eyes gold and glowing softly in the darkness. Edging closer and closer, gliding, sliding, slithering it moved.

Suddenly, he realized - and perhaps too late - that the creature had already slinked the end of its tail behind him, intent on capturing the object of its desire. He glanced frantically all around him, alarmingly searching for a way to escape as its length wrapped loosely around his waist, and a soft gasp escaped the padawan as its muscular, round body tightened in a quick spasm to a snug, form-fitting hold.

"No," Obi-Wan weakly protested, pushing against the thick, scaly mass encompassing his waist, but it was all in vain. The predator had trapped its prey.

A gentle hiss fell from the creature as a sigh of satisfaction at the rapidly advancing culmination of the hunt, followed by a sudden and unexpected spray of venom misted upon the padawan.

At that exact moment, he felt like a rain of fire had been thrown upon him, burning and terribly painful. He cried out from the unexpected attack, covering his face with his arms for protection from the acidic spray.

The pulse of his heart raced, and he vaguely wondered if this would be his last living moment, never to see Master Qui-Gon or anyone else again, no time to say goodbye to any of them, nothing else beyond the horror of this final defeat.

When a second volley of acid came shortly thereafter, he could not help but cry out in terror again, and the dawning acceptance of his eventual fate spread like a hopeless shroud around him.

The serpent's body constricted painfully around his abdomen, but it was not entirely cruel, just enough to push some of the air from his lungs, and he gasped for the breath he tearfully knew was being permanently denied.

He had made a mistake, he knew. He had been forewarned of the dangers of the rain forest at night, and had foolishly chosen to ignore it, and now he would dearly pay with his life. For one long second the padawan wished he had not escaped Tennosa. For one long second....

A futile thought it was, and as his head grew light and the air would not come, he had one last regret to his Jedi master: that the elder man would never know what had happened to him, and that one painful truth would leave his master broken... horribly broken.

Now the Jedi master would have two failed apprentices - one left willingly, the other was taken forcibly, but in the end it would not matter whether he had left or was taken. For Qui-Gon Jinn had never put Xanatos behind him. Now the man would suffer two defeats, two heartaches, two sons taken from him with nothing left but the memories of those two to dry his tears.

Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered closed as his fight for breath came to a halt, and he collapsed there in the grasp of that creature. The sounds, the regret, the touch of consciousness, flowed slowly away, and as he gladly gave in to the grim call of lasting sleep, he barely registered the sound of a low, menacing growl.

Distantly, he could feel himself dumped to the wet ground, and if he could have reasoned anything at all in his resigned state of mind, then he would have wondered why he could suddenly breath again, and why fierce hisses met barks of anger.

There was a flurry of thoughts, frantic and probing, that bled through his clouded mind, so that when he realized his life had not been taken, but spared - at least in a temporal sense - the question charging to the forefront was 'why?'.

He was confused, of course, so he cracked his eyes to slits, and his gaze immediately latched onto the quick movement of two dark silhouettes - one serpentine, the other canine - in a combative, tangled dance. Together, then apart, then together again each creature advanced upon the other.

In all reluctance, the padawan admitted that they were fighting over him - the next item on the menu for both creatures - and he knew in all certainty that he should get away as soon as he could, while they were engaged in their predatory quarrel.

As quickly as he could, he pushed himself to his knees, breathing deeply to fill his lungs again and to relieve the lightness of his head from the deprivation of oxygen. The sudden intake of air burned deep in his lungs, but the torturous sensation soon dissipated, and with a strength that he did not think he had left, he rose to his feet and limped away.

The sounds of combat faded gradually in the background as the padawan ventured further into the deep forest, his weary body trembling and near collapsing like a lost and abandoned Drangmul pup wandering aimlessly about.

He walked and limped, pushing all of his distressing thoughts to that carefully constructed compartment deep within, deeply buried from all conscious thought, where only his unwanted emotions and fears lay safely tucked away, unable to harm him any longer. He would deal with them later... when he had more time, when he had the strength.

Then he arrived at what he assumed to be - by all reason - the outlet for a subterranean stream. The padawan dropped rather abruptly to his knees and thrust both of his hands into the pure, pellucid waters of the small, round pool surrounded on three sides by a natural wall of rocks.

There was a small opening in the canopy of trees above to allow a glimpse of the night skies. The only visible moon danced upon the sheen of the pool, now rippled by Obi-Wan's agitation of its surface.

He drank greedily of the water, satisfying all his lust of the liquid before splashing it across his face, and with all care thrown to the wind, he curled up next to the pool and fell into a dreamless sleep.



~*~



Morning came as the breath of an angel - pure, sincere, and unimaginably lovely. Of all the mysteries of creation, the one following life as most overwhelming had to be the beauty of a world in waking. In all its display of innocent delight in simply going through the motions from dawn until dusk - the habitual unfolding of the petals of a flower, the ethereal spray of a shaft of light through trees, the sweet fragrances of nectar and wood - all these and more came as a loving miracle pointing to the one great enigma overlooking all else and directing the course of all beings.

As the bright luminescence peered down upon the sleeping figure beside the pool, the young man stirred gently, turning upon his back, his features painted painfully youthful in rest. The heavenly light caressed him like a child borne of the light, its ever-watchful eye intensely ubiquitous.

Languidly, he opened his eyes and stared at the glowing heavens - plum and rose and brilliant splatters of silver - all there just as it was on his first day here. Slowly, his gaze trailed down to the verdant vegetation and the garden of dew-splashed blossoms, all bright and cheery.

He rolled over onto his side and pushed himself to a sitting position, and if he had ever felt weariness before, it had never registered the degree to which he felt it now. His exhaustion remained heavy despite the rest overnight.

He rested his head in his hands, trying to come to grips with the unfortunate situation he was in now. Yesterday had been very trying, but now he was alone and in a frightening place that he knew very little about. Yesterday he had packed his worries away, but today he had to face them.

Astonished to discover that he had survived overnight, unmolested by any prowling, carnivorous creatures, the padawan looked to the clear waters of the pool. He leaned over the still waters, looking at his reflection on its mirrored surface.

His turquoise eyes gleamed, but weariness and trouble were also there, dancing in vague shadows. Fortunately, there were no signs on his face or neck that he could see of the acid that the serpent had sprayed upon him. The short length of his mussed-up hair prevented it from looking too bad, but the padawan braid was matted and dirty.

Knowing he was in need of a bath, he peeled off his tunics, carefully lying them aside, and pulled off his left boot - leaving the other one alone since his ankle would undoubtedly suffer greater pain if he were to take that boot off. Then he lowered himself into the pool, allowing himself time to adjust to the icy cold temperature, and ducked completely under its surface.

Although the water was extremely cold to the touch, it felt so refreshing to be able to enjoy this luxury and was very rejuvenating to his stressed muscles. Even with all the frequent rain showers, they could not compare to a full immersion. By the mercy of the divine, he was in heaven.

Sitting in the pool, Obi-Wan rebraided his padawan braid, and let himself relax as he had not been able to for days. He let his mind drift away, back to Coruscant, back to his real life, where he was a Jedi padawan. There, he felt secure, and the future did not wickedly laugh at his feeble attempts to behave as a Jedi. There, the flickering flame of the candle of hope did not burn out, nor did it - in any perverse sense - ever, to his knowledge, lead him to believe there was a way, when there was indeed not.

There, in his mind, he saw Master Qui-Gon's confidence in him staring into his eyes - the pride of his padawan's accomplishments reflected in the older man's. If only he could reach his master now, tell him that he was fine, that he was not dead... yet, then the Jedi master would be even more proud of him, proud that he was doing his best to survive.

Master Qui-Gon's birthday was today, the padawan begrudgingly remembered. What a wonderful present this would be - his padawan missing and with no idea where he is. Once again, he felt regret. Once again, he felt that he had, to some extent, let Qui-Gon down... again, and this time there may not be any reason to believe otherwise.

It was not loud, but just a gentle, low whir, and, if the young Jedi lounging in the pool had been anymore lost in his thoughts as he was, then he would have completely missed it, but his senses were at the least alert enough to pick the sound out of the natural ambience of the rain forest. He turned his head, catching the whizzing flight of the small probe droid as it slowed in deviation, paused thoughtfully, beeped a message to whomever sent it out, and darted away.

With any luck it would have been sent by someone who would help him, but he knew that would not be the case. He knew this droid had been sent by Tennosa. The man was not likely to let his captive go so easily. It would be only a tiny stretch of time before that man arrived at the scene.

Sloshing out of the pool as quickly as he could, he stopped for a second to still the onslaught of drug-induced dizziness. After he had regained his sense of balance and felt sure he would not fall, Obi-Wan climbed into his tunics and boot, and scampered away, losing himself - hopefully - in the protective covering of trees.

In the cool breath of morning, the padawan limped through the emerald leafed vegetation, bearing his weight on the stout trunks as he passed, each step spiking pains through his ankle.

He swallowed the sickness clambering up his throat, as his stomach pitched in agony, but pushed himself on, hoping to somehow, someway, escape the far-reaching grasp of his former captor.

With a sudden frightening and inhuman rudeness, a second probe droid buzzed directly in front of him, halting its course close enough to touch, and produced a series of beeps. Obi-Wan flinched in surprise at the sudden arrival of the droid, and, in a frustration that padawans should not vent, he lashed out to slap it.

Faster than the padawan could move, the droid zoomed back, untouched, and hovered overhead, prudently watching him.

If a look could inflict damage, then the droid would, by all means, fizzle out and drop to the ground, but the padawan glaring at the little droid could not - unfortunately - ever manage such an act. Not that he had not ever tried to, but the prospect of that ever happening still laid quiet, hibernating within the constructs of his mind.

With fleeting thoughts of escape, he changed his direction again and hurried as well as he could through a thick clumping of vines. They stuck and scratched and hooked onto the figure recklessly pushing through them, and when he emerged on the other side of them, he fell to his knees and looked over the fresh cuts across his trembling hands.

When another droid appeared, he tried to push himself up to stand, but bitterly realized that his body could only handle so much before it collapsed from pure exhaustion. Regretfully, he knew he had just about reached that point. He knew he had been foolish for wandering with no cause for direction, no well thought-out plans. Now, much to his dismay, he had reached the end of his struggles... and he knew he had.

With a resignation that sent a shudder up his spine, he broke down and wept, blocking out everything around him, even the gentle mist of precipitation that had begun falling from the skies, washing the world in a haze of gray and melancholy.

In his mind - tossed and tortured by flailing emotions - he thought of every mistake he had made, every childish, inept misjudgment, and wondered just how he had accomplished as much as he had in his life.

Was it only error? Was it only error on his part to end up this way or had destiny set the stage, holding the only light on the path, guiding him to his prescribed eventual suffering?

Held in the bleakness of despair, he made no endeavor to run when the sploshing of boots approached - nor did he struggle when his arms were wrenched behind his back and his wrists tightly bound together.

And when Tennosa pulled the shivering padawan to his feet, he let exhaustion claim him. And why not?


TBC