??? This was originally going to be a one-shot vignette, but it just pulled me in! Hope you're enjoying.
Isaldaria Thank you so much! And your English sounded just fine to me!
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Athena Leigh As always, thank you for your reviews. They always prove helpful.
SFGirl Well, the problem is I have a ridiculously large amount of free time, so I have a lot of stuff floating around here. Thank you for your review!
KitKat I'm wary of OC's as well. Wary of writing them, that is. I didn't think that Ullo had much of a distinct personality, so your comments are very appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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Obi-Wan opened his eyes, to find the worried face of his mentor shaded by the late hour's darkness.
It had been a valiant attempt at deep-level Force healing, but neither were able to maintain the state, pushed upward to the surface of awareness by whatever was attacking Obi-Wan's body.
The apprentice's hair was soaked with sweat. His lips quivered. "Master…" A fly-away sigh. "I think something is wrong with me."
Qui-Gon smiled at the elegance of the dulcet tone. "What's new, my ever-troublesome Padawan? Will a day ever pass when you don't add another gray strand to my hair?"
"I certainly hope not." A grin broke out on the flushed countenance. "It's what gives you your distinctive prestige."
Qui-Gon laughed heartily. "If you're looking for words of gratitude, you're not going to get them."
Obi-Wan smiled before he closed his eyes. "That's alright, Master. I know how you truly feel inside."
Qui-Gon stroked his damp cheek. I pray so, Padawan. He caressed the skin, seeing how colorless it had become in the few hours of Obi-Wan's discomfort. He waited for a beat, then "Obi-Wan?"
The recently rested eyes flew open again.
"We need to move. Will you be alright if I carry you?"
A foolish question. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan nodded. He did not want to delay the mission any longer.
Qui-Gon quietly awoke Tirr, and they were back on the trail in a few minutes.
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Their steps were much louder in the night, although there had not been much around them to rustle and make noise in the daytime.
Obi-Wan slept with his hooded head on his Master's shoulder.
Qui-Gon was often tempted to lean his own against his apprentice's, but was afraid to shift his attentiveness from the jungle.
Ullo yawned, stretching his muscled arms.
Qui-Gon glanced at him. "I know your rest was short, but did you gain any clarity from it?"
"All I gained was a lovely crick in my neck, to go with the pain in my a—"
"Very amusing. But, speaking of which, have you continued sensing that disturbance?"
"It's been mounting." Ullo affirmed grimly. "But it's very—anonymous."
"Yes." Qui-Gon said, then looked away when he realized he had nothing else to add.
They walked on, crushing the yellowed corpses of tropic leaves beneath their feet.
"Perhaps…" The Knight's finger strayed to his chin. "I don't know. Perhaps we're merely experiencing what any normal, non-Force sensitive being would. Obi-Wan's sick and we're surrounded by a huge, dying organism. And maybe these bad feelings we've been having," He shrugged, "Are a normal human response to those things."
"Well, it's not impossible." Qui-Gon concluded with a tired smile, his brows knit. "But it doesn't say much for the Order, a Master and Knight confusing the two like that."
Ullo chuckled softly beneath his breath. "Then they can censure us 'til the banthas come home.
"Look on the bright side—it'll give the lazy bunch something to do."
"True. The troll's especially dangerous when he's without diversion."
"Ha!" Ullo actually threw his head back, grinning wildly, a wavy tendril of black in his eyes. "At least we have one thing in common. You call him that too?"
Qui-Gon smirked. "I think it transcends all generations."
"Does he know?"
The Master laughed against the night's wind. "Oh,I sincerely hope so." After the shared mirth had faded, he regarded Ullo with serious eyes. "Am I then a betrayer of my peers…that I almost wish the little stump were here now?"
The younger man shook his head with a smile that played across half his mouth. "Nah."
"Hum." Qui-Gon looked forward and snorted softly. "I can't help but think he could diagnose Obi-Wan in a heartbeat."
"Don't focus on the negative." Ullo chimed in, eager to dispel the dense gray mist hanging over them. When Qui-Gon's expression remained unchanged, the Knight simpered and kicked at a pebble in the path. "Little stump? Now that's one I haven't heard."
Qui-Gon gazed up at the star-scattered sky, his voice carrying a faux reverence. "Ah, you're young. There's still time to complete that oh-so-important section of your education."
"Really? Considering Yoda's age, I'd think it'd take at least two lifetimes to learn them all."
"Well, Obi-Wan, for one, has always been a diligent student." Qui-Gon grinned. "I think he might've catalogued more of those nicknames than I have. Then again, he and Master Yoda have always had a special relationship."
"He can't stand the little demon?" Tirr deadpanned.
The Master chuckled, glancing at the face nestled against his neck. "No. But Master Yoda sees a potential in Obi-Wan that nobody else can. Not even me." He admitted. "Which means he expects a lot from Obi-Wan."
"And from you?"
Qui-Gon blew out a breath. "I suppose…A few of the nicknames have been a joint effort."
"I bet." Ullo worried on the inside flesh of his lip. "Qui-Gon, what made you pack up and get moving again?" He was almost reluctant to continue. "After everything was already settled in for the night?"
Qui-Gon sighed. The man was asking him the same question he was demanding of himself. And in both cases, the answer, the reasoning that throbbed at the nexus of his soul, eluded him . "I guess it's just, as you put it, a natural human reaction. Obi-Wan's ill, and I want him to receive medical attention as soon as possible."
"So your 'overheated' theory's out the window?" His Jedi counterpart assumed, looking down.
"The window's in shatters." Qui-Gon murmured. "I couldn't place him in a healing trance…That's never happened before, even when he was close to coma. Overheating couldn't account for that."
From the sharp edge of the refined voice, Ullo could tell the situation was wearing his superior's patience thin. He searched for some sort of comfort to extend, a few assuring words, a squeeze on the shoulder—but he only walked on, disarmed by the silence, and unable to locate whatever light was waiting at the end of the figurative tunnel he always heard so much about.
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