Hey all! Sorry for the delay in posting…16 hour days get to you after a
while =) I had to split my time between this, watching ER and bawling my
eyes out. Thanks to all who reviewed, you all are great! Now, I will post
this and return to my depressing little program.
For full info, see first chapter.
* * *
Throwing on a pair of pants, Obi-Wan vigorously scrubbed the towel through his wet spikes and, after absorbing enough water to classify the hair damp, he threw the towel in the laundry bin and went over the 'fresher sink. He rubbed his hand in a circular motion across the mirror, ridding it of the condensation then wiping the moisture onto his pants. His eyes latched onto the image in the fogged glass and he wondered why other people, besides those close to him, have not hounded him for an explanation.
He was always lean, the knowledge was nothing new, but his ribs were quickly becoming too countable, his cheeks too hollow, his collarbone too pronounced.
Thank the Force for the Jedi's baggy ensemble, Obi-Wan thought. Without it, I'm sure that right now I would be chained to some sterile bed in the Healer's wing with tubes stuck up Force knows where…
Shuddering, either at his own reflection or the image of him chained to a starch-white healing couch, he took one last look at the mirror – now, almost void of the opaque steam which obscured its entirety a few minutes prior – before grabbing his tunic off the towel rack, opening the door, and clicking off the hololights as he stepped into the hall.
The shower having cleared his head, Obi-Wan began to go over yesterday. It was a night of sheer hell, but no more than he was used to. He had been going to the small establishment for a while – three or four visits, for sure – once every week, and he had grown accustomed to the distasteful side- effects.
The day he was scheduled to go in was the worst, Obi-Wan decided. Not the time after, but rather the time before. Obi-Wan was paranoid about missing his allotted time slot; the second visit he had been a few minutes late – saber practice with Qui-Gon had run over – and he arrived to find that he had been bumped off and was told he would probably have to wait until his following appointment to get what he needed. Panicking, Obi-Wan stuttered that he would wait in case of a cancellation.
"They're rare," the girl had said, somehow making the comment sound flat, disinterested, and pointed at the same time.
Fortunately, one man did not show up and Obi-Wan's waiting was not in vain. As he exited the small side room a half an hour later, he was completely aware of the hushed voices of two female twe'liks leaning against the grimy permacrete wall, whispering that the man whose spot Obi-Wan had taken missed his visit because of his sudden death. The man had died in a hover- taxi on his way to the purposely obscured establishment and the driver, upon realizing his client to be totally unresponsive, had rushed to the nearest medical center, but the man's body was stone-dead upon arrival.
Obi-Wan remembered thinking the twe'liks to be akin to prostitutes, if not so, and that they must have obtained such information from the small, barely functioning radio unit blaring speaking mixed with static into the crowded waiting room, but no remorse – at least not at that time. He was too busy enjoying a more pleasant, yet short lived side- effect of his visit. Rubbing the small bacta patch on the inside of his right, upper forearm, Obi-Wan tugged the sleeve of his tunic (the least "Jedi-looking" one he could find) back into place before exiting and beginning the relatively long walk back to the Temple. His state of euphoric pleasure had lasted well into the night, allowing him to easily withstand a lecture from Qui-Gon for "disappearing for four hours" and the hour of meditation which followed. It wasn't until later when he was lying facedown on the 'fresher floor that he mourned for the dead man.
But, even as he mourned, a tiny part of him was grateful. At least *he* had gotten what he needed. Besides, he reasoned, what if a problem requiring Jedi had arisen? He would have had to be at Qui-Gon's side protecting him, not desperately counting the minutes until his next appointment. He had to remain strong; he had to be a good, worthy padawan…
Checking to make sure his braid had not become undone or mutilate during his shower – he had not found the energy to undo then redo the plait – Obi- Wan grabbed his robe from the hook near the entrance to the quarters and shrugged it on as he checked the chrono sitting on the table next the common room's worn couch.
13:46
His class started in fourteen minutes. Astro-physics – not his favorite subject, even when he was feeling his best, but at least Bant was suffering through it with him.
Slipping into his boots, Obi-Wan walked into his room, grabbed his data pad from the nightstand, and exited the apartment.
* * *
"And, as you can see, the velocity at which the cosmic gas particles rotate around the planet Steniuum allow for the…"
Bant poked the silent figure sitting next to her, desperate for a more interesting topic of conversation and, as Obi-Wan was the only one within proximity to annoy, she went for him.
"Obi!" Her whispered called jarred him from the physical state that listening to Master Hukka always drew him into – the point between unconscious meditation and, well, the unconscious.
Turning his previously glazed eyes upon her, he answered, "What?"
"Do you have any clue what he's going on about?"
"Yes."
"Uhuh, well, what then? Explain it to me."
"No. It's not my fault you don't listen."
Obi-Wan turned back to his previous position – staring at the wall just behind the dull Master – and away from Bant. Bant was disturbed by her friend's behavior; Obi-Wan had a wonderful sense of humor, sometimes keeping up the good natured taunts for entire classes, why not now?
She poked him again, "Hey, what's wrong?"
Obi-Wan turned again, irritation evident in his voice, "What?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, now shut up, I'm trying to listen to him."
Bant almost laughed at the thought of *anyone* actually wanting to listen to Master Hukka.
"No, you're not."
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "Yes, I *am*. Leave me alone, I'm trying to learn."
Glaring at her companion, she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Fine, whatever. You want to sit there and be an asshole, be my guest."
Obi-Wan ignored her and the two sat in silence, each consumed in his own thoughts – one's of the future, the other's of what had just happened – neither uttering a word for the rest of the two hours of boredom.
* * *
Upon returning home after his class, Obi-Wan discovered a brief com-message from his master saying that the meeting was running late and that Obi-Wan should eat, do whatever homework he had, and get to sleep early – oh, and don't forget the hour of meditation on tardiness.
Obi-Wan made dinner – enough for Qui-Gon when he returned – ended up eating only a few bites and recycling the remainder. He didn't like wasting the food, but he just wasn't hungry; tomorrow, maybe, but not today.
He spent the next hour in meditation, resolving, at the end, that he would try to avoid being late for 'saber practice again. He got up from the mat, folded it up, and shoved it under the couch. Yawning, Obi-Wan rubbed his knees as he sat down on the couch and grabbed his data pad from the table.
Halfway through his physics homework, Obi-Wan thought that, because he could barely keep his eyes open, continuing might not be the smartest thing to do as he would just have to redo the problems he would most certainly mess up. He rose, went into his bed chamber, changed into his sleepwear, and collapsed on the sleep couch, bothering to neither pull back the covers nor turn off the light.
And that is exactly how Qui-Gon found him when the master returned two hours later, exhausted, yet willing to forego sleep in order to settle his padawan. After tucking him in, Qui-Gon brushed a light kiss over the boy's forehead and walked to the door.
Palming open the door, Qui-Gon flicked off the light switch and looked once more on the now darkened profile of the sleeping boy.
"Goodnight, my padawan."
Well, what'd ya think? Be a good lil Jedi, as always, and review!
For full info, see first chapter.
* * *
Throwing on a pair of pants, Obi-Wan vigorously scrubbed the towel through his wet spikes and, after absorbing enough water to classify the hair damp, he threw the towel in the laundry bin and went over the 'fresher sink. He rubbed his hand in a circular motion across the mirror, ridding it of the condensation then wiping the moisture onto his pants. His eyes latched onto the image in the fogged glass and he wondered why other people, besides those close to him, have not hounded him for an explanation.
He was always lean, the knowledge was nothing new, but his ribs were quickly becoming too countable, his cheeks too hollow, his collarbone too pronounced.
Thank the Force for the Jedi's baggy ensemble, Obi-Wan thought. Without it, I'm sure that right now I would be chained to some sterile bed in the Healer's wing with tubes stuck up Force knows where…
Shuddering, either at his own reflection or the image of him chained to a starch-white healing couch, he took one last look at the mirror – now, almost void of the opaque steam which obscured its entirety a few minutes prior – before grabbing his tunic off the towel rack, opening the door, and clicking off the hololights as he stepped into the hall.
The shower having cleared his head, Obi-Wan began to go over yesterday. It was a night of sheer hell, but no more than he was used to. He had been going to the small establishment for a while – three or four visits, for sure – once every week, and he had grown accustomed to the distasteful side- effects.
The day he was scheduled to go in was the worst, Obi-Wan decided. Not the time after, but rather the time before. Obi-Wan was paranoid about missing his allotted time slot; the second visit he had been a few minutes late – saber practice with Qui-Gon had run over – and he arrived to find that he had been bumped off and was told he would probably have to wait until his following appointment to get what he needed. Panicking, Obi-Wan stuttered that he would wait in case of a cancellation.
"They're rare," the girl had said, somehow making the comment sound flat, disinterested, and pointed at the same time.
Fortunately, one man did not show up and Obi-Wan's waiting was not in vain. As he exited the small side room a half an hour later, he was completely aware of the hushed voices of two female twe'liks leaning against the grimy permacrete wall, whispering that the man whose spot Obi-Wan had taken missed his visit because of his sudden death. The man had died in a hover- taxi on his way to the purposely obscured establishment and the driver, upon realizing his client to be totally unresponsive, had rushed to the nearest medical center, but the man's body was stone-dead upon arrival.
Obi-Wan remembered thinking the twe'liks to be akin to prostitutes, if not so, and that they must have obtained such information from the small, barely functioning radio unit blaring speaking mixed with static into the crowded waiting room, but no remorse – at least not at that time. He was too busy enjoying a more pleasant, yet short lived side- effect of his visit. Rubbing the small bacta patch on the inside of his right, upper forearm, Obi-Wan tugged the sleeve of his tunic (the least "Jedi-looking" one he could find) back into place before exiting and beginning the relatively long walk back to the Temple. His state of euphoric pleasure had lasted well into the night, allowing him to easily withstand a lecture from Qui-Gon for "disappearing for four hours" and the hour of meditation which followed. It wasn't until later when he was lying facedown on the 'fresher floor that he mourned for the dead man.
But, even as he mourned, a tiny part of him was grateful. At least *he* had gotten what he needed. Besides, he reasoned, what if a problem requiring Jedi had arisen? He would have had to be at Qui-Gon's side protecting him, not desperately counting the minutes until his next appointment. He had to remain strong; he had to be a good, worthy padawan…
Checking to make sure his braid had not become undone or mutilate during his shower – he had not found the energy to undo then redo the plait – Obi- Wan grabbed his robe from the hook near the entrance to the quarters and shrugged it on as he checked the chrono sitting on the table next the common room's worn couch.
13:46
His class started in fourteen minutes. Astro-physics – not his favorite subject, even when he was feeling his best, but at least Bant was suffering through it with him.
Slipping into his boots, Obi-Wan walked into his room, grabbed his data pad from the nightstand, and exited the apartment.
* * *
"And, as you can see, the velocity at which the cosmic gas particles rotate around the planet Steniuum allow for the…"
Bant poked the silent figure sitting next to her, desperate for a more interesting topic of conversation and, as Obi-Wan was the only one within proximity to annoy, she went for him.
"Obi!" Her whispered called jarred him from the physical state that listening to Master Hukka always drew him into – the point between unconscious meditation and, well, the unconscious.
Turning his previously glazed eyes upon her, he answered, "What?"
"Do you have any clue what he's going on about?"
"Yes."
"Uhuh, well, what then? Explain it to me."
"No. It's not my fault you don't listen."
Obi-Wan turned back to his previous position – staring at the wall just behind the dull Master – and away from Bant. Bant was disturbed by her friend's behavior; Obi-Wan had a wonderful sense of humor, sometimes keeping up the good natured taunts for entire classes, why not now?
She poked him again, "Hey, what's wrong?"
Obi-Wan turned again, irritation evident in his voice, "What?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, now shut up, I'm trying to listen to him."
Bant almost laughed at the thought of *anyone* actually wanting to listen to Master Hukka.
"No, you're not."
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "Yes, I *am*. Leave me alone, I'm trying to learn."
Glaring at her companion, she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Fine, whatever. You want to sit there and be an asshole, be my guest."
Obi-Wan ignored her and the two sat in silence, each consumed in his own thoughts – one's of the future, the other's of what had just happened – neither uttering a word for the rest of the two hours of boredom.
* * *
Upon returning home after his class, Obi-Wan discovered a brief com-message from his master saying that the meeting was running late and that Obi-Wan should eat, do whatever homework he had, and get to sleep early – oh, and don't forget the hour of meditation on tardiness.
Obi-Wan made dinner – enough for Qui-Gon when he returned – ended up eating only a few bites and recycling the remainder. He didn't like wasting the food, but he just wasn't hungry; tomorrow, maybe, but not today.
He spent the next hour in meditation, resolving, at the end, that he would try to avoid being late for 'saber practice again. He got up from the mat, folded it up, and shoved it under the couch. Yawning, Obi-Wan rubbed his knees as he sat down on the couch and grabbed his data pad from the table.
Halfway through his physics homework, Obi-Wan thought that, because he could barely keep his eyes open, continuing might not be the smartest thing to do as he would just have to redo the problems he would most certainly mess up. He rose, went into his bed chamber, changed into his sleepwear, and collapsed on the sleep couch, bothering to neither pull back the covers nor turn off the light.
And that is exactly how Qui-Gon found him when the master returned two hours later, exhausted, yet willing to forego sleep in order to settle his padawan. After tucking him in, Qui-Gon brushed a light kiss over the boy's forehead and walked to the door.
Palming open the door, Qui-Gon flicked off the light switch and looked once more on the now darkened profile of the sleeping boy.
"Goodnight, my padawan."
Well, what'd ya think? Be a good lil Jedi, as always, and review!
