Ch3, part B..
Where outwardly he appeared calm, inside he was still seething at his Padawan's seeming lack of respect. The young man staunchly refused to listen to orders. It was not only annoying, but insulting. When he had been Anakin's age, he had indeed questioned Qui-Gon, but only once had he knowingly, and deliberately disobeyed his Master, and that time had been the only time. He had learned the painful lesson hard. Unfortunately, Anakin refused to listen, consequences be damned. "What shall I do with this boy," Obi-Wan's voice held an angry growl, "My Padawan." Obi-Wan's voice dripped with sarcasm on the last word. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------- On Naboo, the said Padawan turned around, still seeing, in his mind's eye, his Master's disheveled hair, blood shot aqua eyes, and extremely pale face. His clothes had been rumpled. His expression one of wistful sadness. Shaking his head, wondering just what he was going to do about his Master when he returned to Coruscant, his sky blue eyes focused on the slight form of his wife. She stood in the doorway, her robe tied tight about her waist. Her kind, beautiful face looking worried. "What's wrong with Obi-Wan?" Her strong voice asked softly. She walked up to her husband, wrapping her arms about his waist. He tilted her chin upwards and kissed her lips. She smiled against his full mouth. Anakin pulled her tight against him, clasping his hands at the small of her back. She could feel his muscles, tight against her body. "I don't know, though I wish I did. He said he's fine, just tired. I'll bet the Council's been working him too hard." The Padawan rested his chin atop her head. "He looks," She paused, searching for the right word, "ill. Very ill. Surely the Council knows he's is just a man, who needs a break every so often just like the rest of us mortals." Anakin smiled at Padme's speech. It was obvious that she knew little about the Jedi Council. In his opinion, the Council tended to draw every last bit of energy from a person that they could, and even then they expected a person to do more. The Senator stepped back from her husband. "Did you get a few more days leave?" The Apprentice nodded. "Of course. I told Obi-Wan that I'd be back in a few days. Surprisingly, he didn't seem all that angry, or any such thing. He just told me to have a safe, nice trip back." Anakin scrubbed his hands through his hair, looking a little bewildered. Padme just laughed. "Master Obi-Wan is quite a reasonable man. I told you, if you were more respectful, he'd be much more inclined to grant you special privileges. Now, come on, breakfast is going to get cold." Still chuckling, the Senator took her husband's hands in hers, and led him to the dinning room. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------- The Jedi Master woke, groaning. Suddenly he lurched to his feet, and half ran, half staggered into the 'fresher, where he proceeded to empty out his stomach. Pushing himself up, he grabbed onto the edge of the sink and hoisted his body up. He splashed cold water onto his face, rubbing his bleary eyes. Staring at his face in the mirror he felt haunted. His eyes were beginning to look more red than a vibrant blue green. His face looked as white as his bed sheets. It was a small wonder his Apprentice had been worried. He was beginning to act more like a first year Padawan, getting into all sorts of trouble, than an actual Master. Yes, he could remember some of his old friends, Reef in particular, pulling a stunt like the one he'd pulled. The chief stunt being, of course, an inability to recognize his tolerance and limit for alcohol. He brushed his teeth quickly, then rewashed his face. Gingerly, he fingered a lump on his forehead. That, he guessed, would have come from the coffee table. He sighed, and covered his face with his hands tiredly. "You would think I'm the Padawan here. Maybe I should be the Padawan." He ended the sentence with a wry snort. Stumbling towards the shower, he turned the water on. Testing the temperature, and finding it suitable, he peeled off his clothes and proceeded to shower. With quick efficiency, he cleansed himself, then stood under the spray, relaxing. Memories of Qui-Gon's face, and soft spoken words haunted him. Impatiently he pushed his shoulder length hair out of his face. Fear, sharp and cold, ran through him, despite the warmth of the shower. "I'm losing my mind. I'm totally losing my mind." Unaware that he was trembling, Obi-Wan turned off the shower, and grabbed a couple of towels. Instinct took over. The Master left the 'fresher with a towel around his waist, and another about his neck. "Last night. Qui-Gon. Oh, Force." Obi-Wan managed to make it to his bedroom, before collapsing onto the bed. He buried his face into the pillow, shaking. Fear was sharp within him. Scraps from his nocturnal conversation with his former Master floated throughout his brain. He could hear Qui-Gon's soft, deep voice, reverberating through the living room, his laugh gentle, yet dominant above all other sounds. The way his eyes sparkled brightly, despite his ethereal form. He could remember what they'd talked about. "He was here," Obi-Wan pushed himself up on his elbows, "but he left. I thought he was here. I spent all night talking to my very dead Master. He was here." Obi-Wan's voice broke. Oh, he was going to be an even better Master crazy! Sitting up, Obi-Wan hung his head in his hands. "I've totally lost it."
Where outwardly he appeared calm, inside he was still seething at his Padawan's seeming lack of respect. The young man staunchly refused to listen to orders. It was not only annoying, but insulting. When he had been Anakin's age, he had indeed questioned Qui-Gon, but only once had he knowingly, and deliberately disobeyed his Master, and that time had been the only time. He had learned the painful lesson hard. Unfortunately, Anakin refused to listen, consequences be damned. "What shall I do with this boy," Obi-Wan's voice held an angry growl, "My Padawan." Obi-Wan's voice dripped with sarcasm on the last word. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------- On Naboo, the said Padawan turned around, still seeing, in his mind's eye, his Master's disheveled hair, blood shot aqua eyes, and extremely pale face. His clothes had been rumpled. His expression one of wistful sadness. Shaking his head, wondering just what he was going to do about his Master when he returned to Coruscant, his sky blue eyes focused on the slight form of his wife. She stood in the doorway, her robe tied tight about her waist. Her kind, beautiful face looking worried. "What's wrong with Obi-Wan?" Her strong voice asked softly. She walked up to her husband, wrapping her arms about his waist. He tilted her chin upwards and kissed her lips. She smiled against his full mouth. Anakin pulled her tight against him, clasping his hands at the small of her back. She could feel his muscles, tight against her body. "I don't know, though I wish I did. He said he's fine, just tired. I'll bet the Council's been working him too hard." The Padawan rested his chin atop her head. "He looks," She paused, searching for the right word, "ill. Very ill. Surely the Council knows he's is just a man, who needs a break every so often just like the rest of us mortals." Anakin smiled at Padme's speech. It was obvious that she knew little about the Jedi Council. In his opinion, the Council tended to draw every last bit of energy from a person that they could, and even then they expected a person to do more. The Senator stepped back from her husband. "Did you get a few more days leave?" The Apprentice nodded. "Of course. I told Obi-Wan that I'd be back in a few days. Surprisingly, he didn't seem all that angry, or any such thing. He just told me to have a safe, nice trip back." Anakin scrubbed his hands through his hair, looking a little bewildered. Padme just laughed. "Master Obi-Wan is quite a reasonable man. I told you, if you were more respectful, he'd be much more inclined to grant you special privileges. Now, come on, breakfast is going to get cold." Still chuckling, the Senator took her husband's hands in hers, and led him to the dinning room. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------- The Jedi Master woke, groaning. Suddenly he lurched to his feet, and half ran, half staggered into the 'fresher, where he proceeded to empty out his stomach. Pushing himself up, he grabbed onto the edge of the sink and hoisted his body up. He splashed cold water onto his face, rubbing his bleary eyes. Staring at his face in the mirror he felt haunted. His eyes were beginning to look more red than a vibrant blue green. His face looked as white as his bed sheets. It was a small wonder his Apprentice had been worried. He was beginning to act more like a first year Padawan, getting into all sorts of trouble, than an actual Master. Yes, he could remember some of his old friends, Reef in particular, pulling a stunt like the one he'd pulled. The chief stunt being, of course, an inability to recognize his tolerance and limit for alcohol. He brushed his teeth quickly, then rewashed his face. Gingerly, he fingered a lump on his forehead. That, he guessed, would have come from the coffee table. He sighed, and covered his face with his hands tiredly. "You would think I'm the Padawan here. Maybe I should be the Padawan." He ended the sentence with a wry snort. Stumbling towards the shower, he turned the water on. Testing the temperature, and finding it suitable, he peeled off his clothes and proceeded to shower. With quick efficiency, he cleansed himself, then stood under the spray, relaxing. Memories of Qui-Gon's face, and soft spoken words haunted him. Impatiently he pushed his shoulder length hair out of his face. Fear, sharp and cold, ran through him, despite the warmth of the shower. "I'm losing my mind. I'm totally losing my mind." Unaware that he was trembling, Obi-Wan turned off the shower, and grabbed a couple of towels. Instinct took over. The Master left the 'fresher with a towel around his waist, and another about his neck. "Last night. Qui-Gon. Oh, Force." Obi-Wan managed to make it to his bedroom, before collapsing onto the bed. He buried his face into the pillow, shaking. Fear was sharp within him. Scraps from his nocturnal conversation with his former Master floated throughout his brain. He could hear Qui-Gon's soft, deep voice, reverberating through the living room, his laugh gentle, yet dominant above all other sounds. The way his eyes sparkled brightly, despite his ethereal form. He could remember what they'd talked about. "He was here," Obi-Wan pushed himself up on his elbows, "but he left. I thought he was here. I spent all night talking to my very dead Master. He was here." Obi-Wan's voice broke. Oh, he was going to be an even better Master crazy! Sitting up, Obi-Wan hung his head in his hands. "I've totally lost it."