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My Place is at Your Side
~ Part Six: Scalaris ~
Obi-Wan:
As soon as Qui-Gon regained enough of his strength, he and I went back to the shuttle to salvage our packs, the medical kit, and some food rations. By that time we still had over six hours of sunlight left and decided to start the journey to the capital city. Not being too familiar with this planet's terrain, I hadn't been sure which direction to head in, but Qui-Gon, mysteriously, seemed to know exactly where we were and had simply started walking through the forest in, what appeared to me, a completely random direction. "This way," he had said with an enigmatic smile, refusing to answer me when I asked how he knew.
Although we traveled slower than usual, due to Qui-Gon keeping a relatively calm pace so as not to bring about any other inexplicable collapses, we covered a great deal of land. It hadn't been until about three hours into our journey that my Master was left suddenly short of breath. Concerned, I had warned him not to push his luck but he refused to stop and I had eventually given up on arguing with him.
Now, however, his shortness of breath had turned into loud, grating gasps and through our bond I could feel his dizziness and disorientation. Every few minutes he stopped for a handful of seconds to calm his body, but as soon as we started walking again, his wheezing returned. Each step he took seemed heavier, harder, and I could tell, and feel, that he was losing this battle against fatigue and…whatever had caused his collapse.
Seeing how weak he truly was only served to increase my own fear for his health, which had only grown during our trek. Every breath he struggled for, every time he stumbled, had my throat and chest constricting. My heart was pumping worry through my blood and my body was stiff with my scared tension. Would this lead to another onslaught of uncontrollable pain? It had broken my heart to see him huddled up in pain, and I wouldn't let his stubbornness bring about another episode. He needed to rest and regain his strength.
Finally, I stopped and turned to him. "Qui-Gon," I implored, "you have to stop, now."
My Master shook his head, "No, we need to get as far as we can tonight. Whoever sabotaged our ship and hired the Tarcalians is still after us, and the sooner we get to the city, the better," he managed to say all of this between his gasps for breath.
Force, it sounded like my Master had just run seven Intergalactic Marathons in a row and yet he still wanted to keep going? Was he trying to provoke another attack? "I understand that," I assured him, "but if something happens, how will you be able to defend yourself if you can barely stand?"
Qui-Gon conceded my point by remaining silent and I pressed my advantage, "Exerting yourself like this could make you…collapse again."
"We don't know that physical activity will trigger another bout," he countered.
I closed my eyes and called upon the Force for patience. Was it my imagination, or was he acting more like a Padawan than a supposedly wise Master? "We don't know that it won't," I pointed out firmly.
He opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off by taking his hand into mine and finding his gaze with my own, "Master, if our places were reversed, you wouldn't let me continue. Please…stop, for me. I'm worried."
Qui-Gon must have heard the anxiousness in my voice for his face softened and, smiling slightly, he sent me waves of understanding and comfort through our bond. "Your concern gratifies me," he said softly. Then he looked around at the endless trees that surrounded us on all sides, "As soon as we come across the next clearing, we'll stop and set up camp."
I squeezed his hand and flooded our bond with my own gratitude, "Thank you."
~~~~~~~~~~
Distractedly, I stared into the crackling, constantly leaping and falling orange flames of the campfire I had made. The dancing figures hidden in the tendrils comforted my soul, just as the warm glow soothed my body.
After a little over ten minutes of rest, Qui-Gon had regained enough of his strength to once again appear calm and unruffled. His breathing was quiet, and his noble, assured way of carrying himself had returned. However, despite all of this, I knew that something was wrong. It had nothing to do with his wound, which was, as I had originally thought, nearly healed. It was something else. Something that was working, from the inside, to slowly destroy him.
"The saboteur could have more planned for us tonight," my Master interrupted my thoughts with his soft, whispered words, "we should take turns keeping watch."
"I'll keep watch all night," I offered without thought, "you should…"
Qui-Gon held up his hand and I fell silent, "No, Obi-Wan. I can't let you do that. You, as well, need your strength for tomorrow. I will sleep first. After four hours, wake me."
His tone was mild but I understood that this was not up for debate. "Yes, Master," I acquiesced. Hopefully, he would wake up feeling rejuvenated. But what if he didn't? a persistent voice inside me asked. What if he only got worse?
"Good," he narrowed his eyes and teasingly added, "But if you decide to be 'noble' and not wake me up for the second watch, I'll…"
Grateful for the humor, I let a grin spread over my face and interrupted him in exaggerated disbelief, "Master," I scolded, "I never thought you would stoop so low as to threaten me with that cliché."
For a few moments we held a mock glare, but it was ruined by first my laughter, and then Qui-Gon's. It was a wonderful, if temporary, release of the tension that had built up in the both of us, and our chuckles rang out loudly in the mostly silent forest.
~~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon slept soundly for nearly two hours before the pain struck. It came suddenly – preceded by the lone hooting of an owl and a warning whispered in the Force – and hit with a vengeance that had my Master violently lurching into wakefulness and curling up into a tight ball under the cover that protected him from the night.
At the same time my mind was filled with a flashing bolt of excruciating pain that nearly sent me falling back. The anguish bleeding through the bond was so intense that I could barely think. So, this was what he had been trying to protect me against, I realized dazedly, struggling to erect a special type of mental shield around my mind that would prevent me from feeling most of my Master's pain, but also let me help him control it. Qui-Gon had only recently taught me how to do this but, after a few moments of fumbling with the pain and trying to remember his lesson, I managed to block enough of his agony so that all I could feel were the ghosts of it.
The tension and worry that had lurked behind my every thought all day bounded back through me, giddy and intent on devouring me. How long would it last this time? What if it made him too weak to travel and we had to wait for a rescue team that might or might not be coming? What if he lost consciousness? Would I be faced with the decision of leaving him behind and going for help?
A choked cry from my Master spurred me into sudden action. Leaving my anxious thoughts behind, I crawled over to his shaking form and pulled his head and shoulders up so that they were nestled against my upper body. Then I reached through our bond, sending him waves of energy and helping him release the pain into the Force.
The pale moonlight of the night was not bright enough for me to see the features of his face, and I was glad for that. It was enough to hear his ragged breathing and feel his convulsions against my chest. I had sensed the depth of his pain and that was enough to make my heart whither and my eyes fill with a sheen of tears that was as much for seeing him this way, as it was for my biting concern that something was horribly wrong with him.
Running my fingers though his damply matted hair, I began to speak to him in reassuring whispers. "Remember how, when my shields finally crumbled and you found out about the pain I had been trying to keep from you, you held me all night long?" I paused, not even sure if he could hear me. The pain was worse than last time, and in my heart I knew that it would not completely abandon him until many long hours had passed, if at all. But even if Qui-Gon was too dazed by it to realize I was speaking, it pleased me to do anything that might help him. And in truth, I knew talking would comfort me as much as it did him. It would divert my attention from my unease.
"I never told you how much that meant to me, did I?" I continued steadily, despite the pain in my heart, "It hurt so much, but knowing that you were there made me feel safe. It distracted me from the pain. Your arms, always holding me, and your gentle words of support, filled me with the light of knowing I was deeply cared for. There are few times in my life when I've felt as loved as I did then, and I've held onto that memory when everything seems hopeless and dark. And no matter what, even if we're trapped in some death-hole and our lives are in terrible danger, it always makes me feel better."
Seeking his clenched hands out in the darkness, I gently took one of them and coxed the trembling fingers open. Then I twined our hands together and rested then against his warm, sweaty cheek. "Now," I swallowed hard, struggling to control the helplessness and mounting apprehension that thrummed within me, "I'm returning the favor."
With great effort, Qui-Gon moved closer to me, pressing his forehead against my chest – huddling into me – and I placed my free hand on his back, caressing gently. "I love you, Qui-Gon and I'm here for you, just like you've always been there for me."
I blinked back the tears that threatened to run down my cheeks and closed my eyes. Nothing brought me more suffering than seeing my Master overwhelmed by pain. Both on the shuttle and here, it tore at my heart. And what was worse, the ominous shadow pulsating inside me that told me his life was in danger. My efforts felt pathetic in the face of what I knew he was feeling. I wanted to take away his pain, or at least be as much of a comfort to him as he always was to me.
My thoughts sparked a twinge of guilt within me, bringing back memories of something that I had tried desperately to forget, but which nonetheless insisted on plaguing my conscience. Recently, Qui-Gon had offered to take me to a beautiful tropical world for our next vacation. He said I deserved some time to relax without having to worry about enemies jumping out at us from behind random bushes. Quite sincerely, he had told me that he'd like to spend some time with me in which we could just be friends.
Although it was the kind of offer I had been looking forward to, and although I loved to simply spend time enjoying his company, I had been angry with him at the time and instead of being honest with him, my irritation had turned me towards petty immatureness. I had snapped at him, spat out accusatory words meant only to hurt him, and had then turned and fled to my room in a mixed storm of regret and anger. I had wanted to apologize to him, had wanted to do it so badly but had never been able to speak the words.
Now, looking at the man who had given me so much, the one who never spoke to me with a touch of anger and who would never knowingly hurt anyone, I felt the familiar guilt stabbing through my consciousness. He was always so terribly understanding and yet I had repaid him with stinging lies. It wasn't too late, even now I could apologize. I could say that I was sorry and lift this burden from my heart, but somehow…I couldn't. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to apologize for purposefully trying to hurt him. Words simply weren't enough. I had to…
My thoughts were pushed aside by Qui-Gon's voice, left for another time and place.
"K-keep…talking," he rasped out into the darkness, "please...d-don't stop."
So he was aware of my words, I realized with relief. If my voice gave him something to focus on then I would talk until the Chosen One appeared. Tightening my grip on his hand, I did just as he asked. I spoke to him about what my happiest memories of our partnership were, about how much I respected and looked up to him, and how happy I was to be his Padawan. I spoke to him about my life as a young Initiate and my dreams of having an apprentice of my own one day. I spoke of everything, and nothing.
As the night wore on though, my words could not distract me from the worry that burned within me like a fire. He needed medical attention, but we were still about three days travel from the capital, or any populated area, for that matter. What would happen if he got worse?
It was bad enough that we were the prey of an unidentified man who hated us, but now Qui-Gon had fallen victim to a nameless foe that couldn't be fought. All I could do was continue to soothe him through our bond, gently stroke his hair, offer murmured words of comfort, and hope that we would reach the city in time.
~~~~~~~~~~
Pensively, I stared down at the pale, but relaxed face of my Master. He looked so calm now. It was hard to imagine that just an hour earlier he had been at the mercy of a fiery migraine so strong that it had him convulsing and whimpering in pain. With the Force, and my help, he had finally managed to loosen its clutches enough to drift away into the gentle realm of dreams. There was no sign that he had ever been huddled up in agony, except for his hand, which still gripped mine with painful strength.
His head was limply resting against my stomach but the gentleness of his features did not wipe my memory of the flinching, agonized face that I had caught glimpses of in the dancing moonlight. He was terribly ill, and I was frightfully worried. I had tried letting my fear flow through me, but it always returned. I could not meditate – I was too restless. I needed to calm myself though.
When I had been crash-landing the shuttle, I had felt calmer than ever before. It had been more than serenity, it had been a certainty that everything was as it should be. Why couldn't I feel that now? Why was my Force connection normal, after feeling such an amazing thing? Why hadn't I grown from the experience? Why was I still so easily overcome by fear, even knowing the true beauty of the Force?
Exhaustedly, I rubbed my eyes and ran my cold hands over my face.
Maybe, if I could feel that again, I wouldn't be so worried now. If I gave myself completely over to the Force, as I had during the crash, then I would feel that certainty again and it would calm me. It would erase my anxiety and my fear. And maybe, it would also allow me to see what was wrong with Qui-Gon, and help him.
Calling the Force around me, I tried to let it engulf me – stream through, over, and around me – and give myself completely over to it. I tried to absorb its understanding and splendor. I tried to let it fill me with its wonder, but nothing happened. My connection to the Force didn't deepen or change.
"Obi-Wan," a deep, groggy voice mumbled almost incoherently, "what are you doing?"
Liquid-coated blue eyes fluttered open, blinking to sharpen blurred vision, and Qui-Gon fixed me with a gaze that was part curiosity, part barely-constrained annoyance.
Tenderly, I brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen from the tie to streak across his face, and whispered, "Go back to sleep, it's only been about an hour since you dropped off."
His mouth quirked into a smile, "Sleep? How could I possibly sleep with all the Force-noise you're making? What are you doing?"
My eyes widened and my cheeks warmed. He felt what I was doing? Quickly, I released the Force I had gathered and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." It had taken him so long to be able to rest again, and here I had gone and ruined it for him.
He yawned quietly, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. "I know that," he closed his eyes, "but you still haven't answered my question."
I exhaled slowly, not sure how to explain it. "I was trying to…you know, like when I landed the shuttle, and the Force was alive."
"And you couldn't do it?" he surmised.
Even though he couldn't see me, I shook my head. "No…will you help me?"
His left upper lip twitched and he seemed amused. "Of course I will help you, but…Obi-Wan, even with hours of meditation it may take months before anything like that happens again, and when it does, it most likely won't be anywhere near as powerful as on the shuttle."
"Why?" I questioned.
He opened his eyes again, "Do you remember when you were sixteen, and you were intent on being able to complete the flowing water kata?"
I was confused at his change of topic but nodded nonetheless.
"It was months away from your skill level at the time, but you were persistent and seeing how great your desire was to learn it, I gave in," he ran his fingers through my hair, smiling distantly at the memory, "First I had you carefully observe me performing the kata and then, while I was catching up on some light reading, I asked you to meditate on it. However, you were eager and impatient, and you didn't want to wait."
I gave him a timid smile, remembering how frustrated I had been at having to meditate. I didn't understand how it would help me with the kata.
He laughed then, "And so you disobeyed me. After reading a page or so, I felt through the Force what you were trying to do, and came out into the common room to stop you. But by the time I got there, you had already started and I decided to let you continue, thinking that you wouldn't get very far. Much to my surprise, I was wrong. Although your rendering was a bit sloppy, you did finish it."
"I was so proud," I recalled with a grin, "that even when you lectured me on the importance of not trying a new kata unsupervised, I didn't care."
"Yes," he agreed with fond sternness, "I couldn't wipe that cocky grin of yours from your face! You were so happy, though, that I couldn't stay annoyed with you for long. When you asked me to help you improve it, I found myself agreeing. So you started again, but this time you weren't able to get more than a minute into it before you fell. You tried again, and again, and again, but you never made it past a certain point.
"You were disappointed, even embarrassed, but you never gave up. It took you months of learning new ways to connect to the Force and maneuver before you were able to do it again – that time with the grace and skill required for the kata." He stared at me pointedly, "Now, I can safely say that it is one of your best katas."
I looked away from my Master, and far into the trees of the forest, where the dancing images of shadows and moonlight drew my gaze. I knew he had told me this so that I could make some connection to what I wanted to do now, and I carefully considered what he might be trying to tell me.
"So," I began tentatively after a handful of minutes, "you're saying that like with the kata, I do not yet have all of the necessary skills to achieve such a connection at will. It will take time for me to learn how this is usually done."
"Yes," he agreed, "and even then, such a connection is very rare. You know that my strength lies in the Living Force, but there have been few times in my life when I've felt the Force the way you did, and it was always when I was in grave danger. After extensive meditation, I have learned to approximate the experience, but have felt nothing quite as…beautiful or intense. Each of those experiences has, however, taught me to deepen my everyday connection to the Force. It is one of the reasons I'm so close to the Living Force, and why it enraptures me so."
I nodded, understanding even though I was slightly disappointed. It had been so exquisite, and I yearned to feel that again, to more fully understand the beauty my Master saw in the living Force. "When…when did it first happen to you?"
He released my hand and instead began rubbing small circles in the center of my palm with his callused thumb. "I was ten," he informed me softly.
"Ten?" I nearly choked on the word, again feeling like I would never achieve the wisdom my Master had. He had been eight years younger than me. Was my connection to the Force more fragile than it should have been? Was I slower than my agemates in this area?
My Master, always in tune with what I was feeling and thinking, was quick to reassure me. "Obi-Wan, that is my strength and it always has been. My lightsaber skills were poor until just before I was taken as a Padawan, but in that one area, I was ahead of the other Initiates and Padawans my age. You should not judge yourself by me; your skills lie elsewhere."
His words did not make me feel better. I had always had trouble seeing and feeling the Living Force as others did. Perhaps it was one of the reasons I found it hard to control my fear. "But feeling the Force is essential to being a Jedi."
"That is true," he conceded my point, "but trust me, Padawan, you are not behind your agemates. In general, your connection to the Force is strong; it is the Living Force that you have trouble understanding. However, now that you have seen why I devote myself to being as in tune with it as I can, I trust that you will work to improve."
I nodded a little halfheartedly. I had full confidence in my lightsaber skills, my negotiation abilities, and my use of the Force, but when it came to being connected to the Living Force, it simply eluded. "As much as I want to, I doubt I'll ever feel it as you do," I admitted one of my greatest concerns and aspirations.
"You must have more faith in yourself, Obi-Wan. You are very talented and will be a great Jedi Knight," he responded with obvious pride and sincerity, "I have no doubt whatsoever that when you learn to trust the Force at all times, you will become much more powerful and wise in it than I am."
What did he mean, 'When you learn to trust the Force'? "I do trust the Force." I always had.
Qui-Gon slowly shook his head and spoke decisively but with a touch of mildness in his voice, "Only when you have to, Obi-Wan. You trust it completely only when you have to, when you're desperate, when you have no other choice. Like on the shuttle. It is that that prevents you from fully understanding the Living Force, not any lack of skill or devotion."
"I always use the Force," I protested, slightly stung and a little hurt. I knew he did not mean to make me feel this way, and that he was only being honest with me as he always was, but I could not help but feel suddenly insecure and disappointing.
He smiled, a little sadly, "Yes," he agreed, "you do. You use it all the time, but you don't trust it. There is a difference."
"Yes I do," I insisted, feeling as if he was severely chastising me.
"No," he never broke eye contact and the intensity of his stare did not allow me to either, "You don't trust it enough. Not enough to trust in it without doubt. Not enough to let it guide your actions and believe in what you feel without any conscious thought. Not enough to follow its wisdom without question unless your life is in danger."
I wanted to keep protesting, but I knew that he was right. I always kept myself centered and open to the Force, but as for trusting it in the sense that he meant…I very rarely had. My tendency was to think things out instead of trusting my instincts in regards to the whisperings of the Force. I had to change, but such a fundamental shift in my thinking would take a long time and be very challenging. I would need guidance – Qui-Gon's guidance.
"I know that I am inexperienced and that I…don't know a lot," I admitted, "but with your help, I am learning."
Qui-Gon's features softened and he smiled, his eyes shining with joy. "I don't know what I ever did without you," he whispered both regretfully, and warmly, "Meditate with me?"
I grinned, beaming at him, "Yes, Master, I would be delighted."
~~~~~~~~~~
That night saw the formation of a routine between Qui-Gon, me, and the nameless, faceless foe that was subduing my Master as nothing before ever had. During the three days that it took to complete the trip to the capital city, we always began our journey an hour and a half after dawn. We would travel for eight hours, or as long as my Master's strange illness would allow, before setting up camp. Qui-Gon would sleep first and I would keep watch until the burning agony that always struck in my Master's head woke him from his peaceful slumbers. Then I would hold him, pumping as much energy as I could into him so that he could release the pain as quickly as possible. As soon as it died down, we would sink deep into a joined meditation that would revitalize us both, and give him the strength he needed to keep functioning.
The communal meditation seemed to work wonders for him because he never had so much trouble traveling through the forest as he had had on that first day, and the fits of pain were never quite as severe. However, that fact did not ease the sharp, consuming anxiety in my heart. Meditation was only supplying the energy needed to hinder the invisible enemy within him, it wasn't defeating it. A healing trance had done nothing to improve his condition and neither of us could determine what the problem was. We only sensed a dark force working within him, nothing specific to tell us what was wrong. I knew, though, that his life was in danger, and I was afraid of what a doctor would tell us when we finally saw one.
Fortunately, by some grace of the Force, our saboteur did not thwart us again. We both knew that he was still out there. That we would surely meet with him or his hired men again and that, even if he wasn't related to our mission, his presence could obstruct it, but neither of us questioned his decision to leave us in peace during our journey to the capital city. We had both breathed a sigh or relief when we set foot on the cobblestone streets of Decartha. Not only had we made it without being attacked, we had made it without Qui-Gon's health further deteriorating.
The Directors had made reservations for us at their finest hotel, which was across the street from their Complex of Administration, and set aside only for their most honored guests. Before taking an airtaxi there, we had stopped at a restaurant to change our clothes and make ourselves presentable. Upon arriving at the Luxury Hotel, we found the receptionist behind the check-in counter busy attending a middle-aged male who seemed to be very upset, as we could hear his angry, snapped words across the room from where we were sitting and waiting.
I could quite easily understand what the man was saying but it was his voice, and not his words, that caught my attention. He had a distinctive accent which I could not place, but the way in which he spoke, so rushed and hurried with a slight gruff catch, seemed achingly familiar to me. The Force around him wasn't dark, not in the literal sense, but more…mysterious, more chilling. In fact, he filled me with a very cold, very grave, feeling. Where had I heard this man before?
TBC… (on Friday)