Cerasi5, Liyanette, thank you for your reviews and for reading. Hope you'll like this, too ;-)
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Arones stared angrily into Namira's face. She shifted nervously under this heavy stare but refused to back off.
"As an official head representative of High House Imata I refuse to sign this treaty." She threw a quick, unsure glance at the Jedi who were sitting her left, seeking support. Kamon nodded slightly, and Namira turned her eyes back to her opponent.
"This agreement has been reached by you uncle and myself after long discussions. The only thing that was left was its signing. Too bad we lost him in the most inappropriate time." The callousness of his words struck Namira, but she continued to stand her ground.
"You might have reached an agreement with my uncle, but not with me. I don't understand why you insist that you must have two thirds of this sector of market. I think it would be just if both of our houses get equal parts."
"Our company is more productive."
"Due to the fact that you pay very little to your workers and that you import low-quality metal." Namira parried.
The Jedi were surprised at her knowledge on the matter. Arones, on the other hand, was angered by this. He looked he was ready to attack her. At that moment Namira was grateful for the presence of the Jedi. Qui-Gon started to look for a way to calm down Arones, but Anisa was already talking to her boss, forestalling anything the Jedi Master could do.
"This is an outrage!" Arones screamed. "You have no right to know..." He abruptly realized what he was about to confess and cut himself short. "This all is a commercial secret."
"You treat your workers in an awful way..." Namira started, but was interrupted by Arones, who has already managed to regain his composure.
With a sweet and disarming smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said. "I see now that we still have much to discuss on the matter. I propose we leave it until tomorrow, considering that today has been a long and tiring day for all of us."
Namira, who was feeling her resolve waning with every second, was glad that it was over for a while. She could barely believe that she had actually managed to hold Arones in place, not to succumb to his demands. This was encouraging. Tomorrow she would be even more prepared.
"Master Jinn, I think I will not be needing your presence in the next two hours. I doubt anyone would attempt to attack me while I'm surrounded by my aides," Arones said, standing from his seat. Then he made a quick exit, all of his aides and assistants trailing behind him.
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Namira was exhausted from her arguments with Arones. She stood her ground, but it took much from her – she wasn't experienced in this, wasn't prepared for such a fierce confrontation. She rubbed her temples wearily as she stood up to go to her bedroom. Kamon also stood up. He shifted nervously under the heavy quizzical look Qui-Gon was giving him.
"I think… umm… I must stay with Namira… er… to protect her." He threw a quick glance at Obi-Wan, hoping to get his support, but the other Padawan was lost deep in his thoughts and appeared to not notice anything around him. Kamon didn't know what to expect of Master Jinn; he wasn't even sure he was doing the right thing. So he was somewhat surprised when Qui-Gon actually said, "All right."
Qui-Gon on his part wasn't all that happy with apparent friendship – or maybe more, who knows – that developed between the two, but he needed to talk to Obi-Wan. And he needed to do it in private. The state his Padawan was in concerned him more with each passing minute.
Namira seemed to be relieved that she wouldn't have to stay alone. She bid good-bye to both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and went into her room, followed closely by Kamon.
The Master and the apprentice were finally left alone.
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Obi-Wan was sitting on the couch, his hands lying clasped on his lap. He stared at them absentmindedly. He felt his thoughts wandering about his head like people, lost in a dense fog – the whole crowd of thoughts, yet they avoided him. He tried to catch at least one of them, to focus on it, but all he could grasp were incoherent shreds.
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's rather sharp voice startled him out of the muddy mist his thoughts has turned into. Obi-Wan's head jerked up to stare at his Master's face. "Are you all right?" Qui-Gon said in a much softer voice, concern glowing in his eyes.
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan stated and winced at the sound of his own voice – suddenly hoarse. How am I ever going to convince him if I can't seem to convince myself? He didn't know why was it that he needed to convince Qui-Gon he was well. He wasn't, after all. Though Obi-Wan was always a type of person to close in on himself when such problems arouse rather than go to someone to cry on their shoulder, he wasn't prone to hiding his problems from his Master like this. There was something unnatural in the way he knew he had to keep to himself.
Qui-Gon sat down next to his Padawan. The boy's face was pale and drawn, lined with fatigue. Maybe he's simply tired? Qui-Gon thought. But the Master knew there was more to it than that. Obi-Wan seemed to be cold, though when Qui-Gon had put his hand to the boy's forehead he could feel no heat. The soft flesh under his palm was cool – perhaps a bit cooler than usual, but nothing really to worry about. And nothing that could justify Obi-Wan's withdrawn – and increasingly odd – behaviour.
Finding nothing physically wrong with his Padawan, Qui-Gon tried to reach him through their bond… only to bump full force into the strongest shields he encountered in Obi-Wan's mind in years. Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked at the boy, who was still staring at his hands. He looked very young – more like a lost and confused child than a bright young man he really was. What happened to you? Qui-Gon silently asked. Why won't you talk to me? He took Obi-Wan's smaller hands in his big ones, offering comfort, trying to get through the wall Obi-Wan has built between himself and outer world.
"Please, look at me," he pleaded. Troubled blue-green eyes – like a stormy sea – turned to look into Qui-Gon's blue ones. The Master was shocked to see deep distress and confusion in them. "Tell me, what's wrong?"
A puzzled expression graced Obi-Wan's features. "Nothing's wrong."
Qui-Gon felt frustration build up in him. Why was Obi-Wan resisting? What was he hiding?
"You can tell me, Padawan. I only want to help you," Qui-Gon let his worry seep into his voice. But a small note of accusation leaked through as well. He immediately regretted that he didn't have better control on his voice as he saw hurt expression blossom in Obi-Wan's eyes.
Gently he squeezed small hands with ling slim fingers he still held in his own. Obi-Wan was about to say something when Qui-Gon's comlink went off. The Master huffed in irritation.
"Jinn here."
"Please, report to Arones' quarters in two hours," one of Arones' aides said in an official tone.
"I will. Jinn out." He felt anger swell in him at this untimely intrusion and quickly worked to release it into the Force. Just when I was starting to get somewhere!
The moment was spoiled. Obi-Wan was staring out the window at the dashing traffic.
"Would you like some tea?" Qui-Gon asked, getting up from the couch, feeling somewhat awkward.
Obi-Wan nodded his consent, not turning his eyes from the blue sky behind the large window. Silence settled in as Qui-Gon thought how to approach his apprentice again. Tea-pot whistled its readiness, breaking the heavy and uncomfortable silence. Qui-Gon poured some tea into two cups and returned to his Padawan's side. Handing him one cup, the Master settled across from him in a low chair.
Obi-Wan had to unclasp his hands in order to take the offered cup. His hands were shaking slightly as he accepted the cup of tea, rich deep fragrance of which made him forget his troubles for a second. But his comfort was short-lived. A shadow came across his vision, drowning the scene before him in a gray mist; everything swam out of focus.
Qui-Gon watched in alarm as the boy's hands suddenly shook violently, spilling hot aromatic liquid onto his hands and clothes. The Master was at Obi-Wan's side in the blink of an eye. The boy looked at his hands as if he couldn't believe they betrayed him like that. Then a thought came into his mind. If I have hot tea on my hands shouldn't I feel burning? Then why don't I? He looked at his hands as if expecting them to answer, then raised his head to look at Qui-Gon, who had taken the cup from him to put it onto nearby table.
"Obi-Wan, are you alright?" Qui-Gon's voice was laced with concern he didn't even try to hide.
It suddenly occurred to Obi-Wan that he was acting like a little child. But he was no little child. "I'm fine, Master. I think I'll just need to change." With these words he stood up and went to the door. At the door he paused and turned when Qui-Gon called his name.
"Are you sure, Padawan?" Qui-Gon was looking at him intently.
"Yes, Master." With that Obi-Wan turned and walked out the room.
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Obi-Wan was quietly walking down the corridor. Any other time he would have at least walked in a much quicker pace, his youthful energy demanding an outlet, but not today. Today he felt like a huge boulder was placed on his shoulders, weighting him down. He was turning the corner when he saw the person he craved to see yet dreaded meeting with - Anisa. She was striding purposefully down the corridor. He stopped to watch her as she moved.
Strong. Yes, this was the word he would describe her with. There was nothing weak in her - from her brown with red streaks hair, that now laid on her shoulders in two thick braids, to her lither hands. Her eyes... they were unusual. But he had no time to contemplate on what it was that hid in their depth.
When she neared him he felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest. Her misty green eyes bored into his, seeking confirmation of what she expected him to feel. And she found it. He was not the first - there have been many before him, though no one of them had been so innocent and pure - and he was feeling the same all of them once had - longing to touch her. Some buried themselves in her embrace – virtually.
But she also could see struggle in him. He knew what he wanted but he wouldn't succumb to his desire so easily. This was what made Jedi special - they could put up a fight against their own wishes. And this was what she admired in him. But ultimately he will not escape. He will be hers.
Enjoying it inwardly she reached out her hand to touch him, to stroke his cheek. He might feel that he shouldn't touch her, but he didn't back away from her touch – and it was his mistake . A cold yet burning sensation washed over his skin – it felt like a piece of ice has been put to his face, boring into his skin. His hand reflexively jerked up to cover what felt like injured skin, but there was no injury. Anisa smiled at him, but in her eyes he saw not mirth but triumph and something akin to satisfaction of an animal that plays with its prey. He shuddered at what he saw in the glowing eyes of a beautiful woman – his death.
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