TITLE: Through My Eyes

AUTHOR: Neniae

CONTACT: Neomail aslyinn or email aslyinn@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Star Wars. In fact, I don't own anything. Don't bother suing me, 'cause you won't get anything. Point taken?

SUMMARY/NOTES: Sort of an odd A/U story. Definately not my usual style. A really sad story about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, with a poem at the end (meant to be from Qui-Gon's point of view) that I wrote myself. You can use the poem for whatever you want as long as you ask me first... same thing goes for archiving this story.

This is complete. If you really want a sequel, say so in your review. I'm not planning on making one, but if I get enough requests then I will. And if you liked this, then go read my other Star Wars fic, Tears for Innocence.






Obi-Wan sat at his desk, legs swinging idly as he typed away at a data pad containing that day's homework. The glo-lights above his head shone with a dull gleam, shedding a dreary mood upon the whole room. The noise of hovercraft and pedestrians came through even here as a dull sort of murmer that would not go away, no matter what he did. Sighing, Obi tossed the data pad carelessly back on the table. He thought that the work might be on Endor's geology, but he wasn't really concentrating enough to tell. He was automatically just answering the questions without even reading them.

He had seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

His mind was not on the questions, but off elsewhere. He just couldn't seem to ever focus on anything anymore. His grades had been failing for a while now, but at this point he didn't really care. He'd been avoiding his friends a lot, afraid that they would realize that something was wrong. He knew from the last time that he'd seen them that they were suspicious. They all knew that something was up, but they didn't have enough of an idea of what was wrong to voice their fears to his Master. They wouldn't say anything. They wouldn't. No...

He tried to convince himself that it was true, though he knew deep down that it might not be any longer.

He had been skipping school fairly often. He was probably there about one or two days per week now. Whenever he did bother to go - mainly on the days when his Master was around when it was time for him to leave - he skipped quite a few of the classes. A normal day for him had used to be going to school each morning, walking to his classes with his friends, and paying attention in class, then goofing off with everyone else at lunch hour, seeing if they could break the Academy's all-time record score for the longest-lasting food fight. Nowadays, if he went to school at all, he wore dark clothes so that he wouldn't be noticed, and slunk into the school through the back door. He walked slowly from class to class, so far out of the usual noise and bustle of the halls that he brushed up against the wall as he walked. He never spoke a word during the whole day, whether it be to a friend or a teacher. When he'd been through two or three classes, he'd just walk out the back door and wander around the deserted city streets for hours on end. No one watched him there. No one cared what he did.

No one tried to control his every move.

He just couldn't stand it in the Temple anymore. Couldn't stand being told what to do. Couldn't stand being told exactly how to do it. Couldn't stand being watched every waking moment by one Jedi Master or another, waiting and hoping that he'd mess up something so that they could laugh at him. Couldn't stand the reprimands he was given by his Master, the odd looks that his friends gave him, the worried looks of his Master. Couldn't stand the noise. Couldn't stand the people. Couldn't stand the silence. Couldn't stand being alone.

Everything just seemed to be falling apart.

He wanted away. He wanted out. He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, anywhere but here. He wanted a chance to get away from it all for just once so that he could try to figure out this tangled, twisted, unpleasant thing that was his life. He knew that he needed to get out NOW, before he went insane. He had already started to have weird dreams. Strange and violent thoughts. Even suicidal thoughts.

There was a shadow lurking in the back of his mind, and it wouldn't go away.

He could never escape it. He'd felt the shadow since long before he became Master Qui-Gon's Padawan. He had been suprised that no mention had been made of it at the time, but now he knew with deadly certainty that it had not been mentioned because no one else knew. The shadow was always there, and it made him uneasy. Frightened. And yes - even fearful. And he didn't feel in control any longer. He felt like he was caged up inside his own mind.

It was controlling him.

Even as the words came to his mind unbidden, he knew that it was true. The shadow, the Dark Side of the Force, was controlling him. He was completely helpless. Completely under its control. Already beaten. The battle had been won, and the light had not been the victor.

He let go of his last remaining shred of hope.

As his Master walked into the room, he slouched down in his chair, despondant. Qui-gon looked at his Padawan with kindness in his eyes. "Padawan, I think that we need to talk." The boy ignored him. He repeated the command, adding a touch of the Force to his voice, but it still had no effect.

Walking quietly towards him, Qui-Gon pulled a second chair next to him and sat down. "Padawan, this is important. We cannot simply keep on ignoring it, and you know that as well as I do. Something is wrong, and I want you to stop shielding, and stop trying to avoid me." His tone suddenly had an air of pleading. "Please, Padawan."

With a snarl, Obi spun around in his chair. His eyes had a wild look about them, and a strange reddish tint. Black energy crackled in the air around him. "I am no longer your Padawan!" With a glare towards his former teacher, he sprang up and stalked off, leaving a very shocked, confused, and hurt Qui-Gon behind him.

A few hours later, on a planet far away, a young boy lay on the floor. He was curled up into a ball for warmth, a ragged cloak drawn across his body. Tears streaked his face, and yet his expression was one of calmness, and happiness. A lightsaber lay next to him that he had apparently forgotten to turn off. The single blade crackled as small threads of red began to spread through it.

And on the floor lay a thin braid, ragged ends snaking across the wood as it brushed against the saber and went up in flames.






Once you step out past that point,
You shall see the world to change.
The tides are rising; the world stands still;
The wind carries the message to us all:
It is time for the truth to tell.
If you see this world
From through my eyes,
You would know this truth
And could change our fate...
But no matter how you try,
And no matter what you do,
You can never seem to see
The world just as I do.
And no matter how you scream,
And no matter how you fight,
The wind shall carry your last breath away
As you fall to what you're told is right.
No matter what you want,
And no matter what you need,
There's nothing here in this world for you,
Since the truth you cannot see.
So run off and seek shelter
In a land far, far away,
Or try your luck at battle
Though you know you can't but lose;
For no matter what you dream of,
No matter what you wish,
Until through my eyes you see the world
A true life you shan't live.