Elusive capture Thank you for your wonderful comments. It surprises me that people enjoy my fics, since I'm not really an expert on SW or anything. I don't watch the old movies at all! But thanks again, and I'm glad you're enjoying
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Ewan's girl Jeez, most everyone at the other site I post at thinks I'm out to kill him too! I'm glad you got your computer fixed.
Shanobi Thank you. You make me blush so much.
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Nightfall was whispering its approach, in the mellowed temperature and slight breeze that rustled through the dried-out leaf hollows, creating a low, sharp whistle.
Ullo shivered, although the air was nowhere near frigid. "I can't help but think we should've arrived by now."
Qui-Gon drew his gaze momentarily from his apprentice's colorless face. "Perhaps we've miscalculated." His forehead creased. "But this is the correct path. We couldn't have misread the map's coordinates."
Ullo nodded, but the assurances didn't lift his shoulders. He let out a wandering sigh. "It's one thing or another here, isn't it?" His finger roamed the bristles of his chin. "It's almost as if…as if the jungle doesn't want us to leave."
"Almost." Qui-Gon nearly concurred. "But that thought is of little use to us. It only adds fear and intimidation where we need to be focused."
"Right." The Knight murmured. It was simple to discern where the Master's focus lay, for his clouded blue eyes adhered once again to Obi-Wan.
That was fine, Ullo decided. Someone surely needed to keep close watch over the young student.
Just as someone needed to monitor the movements and threats of the jungle. That could be considered an error on Qui-Gon's part. With his attention trained solely to Obi-Wan, he was also leaving himself vulnerable to attack.
An attack from what? A branch? A decomposing carcass? Ullo's eyes circled their surroundings. Although their situation was dire, they were blessed with no interference from the ravenous, fanged creatures that usually skulked in the shadows and thick brush.
He knew it was a bit childish to believe the jungle was somehow tightening its shriveled arms around them, and pulling them back from the sanity and sanctuary of civilization. But after hours in the heat, bound up in the tension of unknown illness and inner conflict, conspiracies were not so ridiculous a notion.
It was easier to have faith in that, than believe it was all the workings of the Force, and that the beloved entity would be the one to restrain them from the healers who would save Kenobi. He couldn't understand why it would brim the kid with light, so much that it practically glowed in his eyes, only to extinguish it so prematurely, and in such a cruel manner.
The Force couldn't be the culprit in this, Qui-Gon swore, his eyes caressing Obi-Wan's features while his touch could not. Its power had been strangled by the demon that invaded his Padawan's body. The disease was resistant against the Force.
And it would be fruitless to rage against the Force, for allowing itself to be blocked.
Qui-Gon always favored mantras that addressed the neutrality of life; nothing was strictly fair or unfair.
But now, he didn't care in the least if his character was ruined by hypocrisy. This WAS NOT fair. As a Jedi, he had been taught that healing skills could be a saving grace when medical attention was out of reach. He was taught that he could protect those under his charge.
There were never any warnings that someday, he might be holding the dangerously still form of his apprentice, and unable to help him in any way. The constants of his life were in ruins, so what did it matter if he stomped his beliefs into the dust?
Qui-Gon felt his body begin to tremble, and it didn't ease when he took in Obi-Wan's beautiful face, so much of the familiarity leeched by fever.
A hand fell to his shoulder. He did not turn to see the owner of it. He didn't want to see.
That didn't hamper Knight Tirr, who could feel the heated currents sheeting off the Master. "Anger isn't the answer, Qui-Gon. You know that. It's never been a cure."
"Because there is no cure, is there?" Qui-Gon raised his head, but his voice remained in the sorrowed doldrums. "For him."
"We don't know that."
"Because we don't know anything."
Ullo waited for the seething comment's intensity to settle, then "Perhaps this is a test. For you, for me." Quieter, "For Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon snorted. "I think I'm tired of being examined."
Ullo felt an accord with the Master, whether he liked it or not. He didn't mention it aloud, fearing his words would become counterproductive. "But we can't choose when the tests come. Or how many of them there are. We can only deal with them to the best of our abilities. How else do we learn?"
"If Obi-Wan is required to suffer, I would rather be denied the lesson."
Ullo breathed out, loudly. "All this mission, you've been telling me how much I want an apprentice. How much I need an apprentice." He shook his head with exasperation. "But if this is what having an apprentice means, you've killed your own argument."
Qui-Gon stared at him for a few seconds. Heavy shadows clung around his eyes. "Tell me, Knight Tirr. What have you to lose?"
Ullo's brows knit. "What?"
"At this moment, what do you have to lose? What's at stake?"
A little confused, he answered. "Nothing."
"Nothing." Qui-Gon repeated. "You have nothing that would make you react as badly as I have. Nothing to break down, or hells, cry over."
Guardedly, Ullo shook his head.
"So what have you to rejoice for?"
Ullo expected there to be more, for him to be beaten down in the blind ire of Jinn, but the towering man turned away then.
It was silence that met the night.
But there wasn't so much as a semblance of quiet within Ullo's mind.
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The dark was dense when the Jedi were pulled from their separate, equally profound reveries.
Obi-Wan, immobile for so long, suddenly began to spasm.
Qui-Gon knew that this time, it was not in response to a fitful dream. He laid the convulsing body on the ground, and pressed his palm down on the sweating forehead. "Grab his legs. Keep them down!" He barked.
Ullo wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's ankles and held them firmly in place.
Qui-Gon has straddled his apprentice in order to pin the flailing arms while stopping his head from knocking.
Obi-Wan fought, albeit involuntarily, the efforts to restrain him.
"What can we do?" Ullo shouted.
In a strained voice, Qui-Gon responded, "We wait it out."
And that's what they did. For several minutes of unparalleled agony, they weighed the seizure down, fresh perspiration dripping from their faces.
Finally, Obi-Wan was still again.
Qui-Gon remained in place, cautious.
Ullo's hands loosened. He gathered a breath. "Is he alright?"
The answer wasn't what he predicted. "Oh gods." Qui-Gon's eyes were wide with polished, gleaming terror. He wiped the stream of dark blood from Obi-Wan's lip, where he had bit down during the paroxysm. Obi-Wan was still. Completely. Perfectly.
Not even his chest moved.
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Obi-Wan wanted to thank whatever entity it was that decided to show him mercy, and block him from the pain that until recently was threatening to destroy him.
He wanted to shout his rapture. At last he could wallow in numbness, collapse in unfeeling sleep.
And be at peace.
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Ullo's stomach clenched. "Qui-Gon, what is it?"
Qui-Gon shook his head, pressing his ear against Obi-Wan's chest.
"Oh gods." Ullo's heart careened into his roiling belly. "Is he-"
"No." The Master rasped, still shaking his head. "No, he can't be. This can't be." He crossed his hands and pumped the unmoving chest. His hair whipped in the frenzied effort. "Padawan stay with me."
Crouched at the feet of the fading apprentice, Ullo was struck into a near-catatonic state. The Force was overwhelmed with Qui-Gon's emotions.
Fear. Desperation.
But above all, there was love. It was love that fueled the man, as he worked tirelessly at resuscitation.
Qui-Gon tilted Obi-Wan's head and forced air into the slack lips, pinching his nose shut to prevent it from escaping.
Obi-Wan's face remained a cloud of white and slate.
Qui-Gon tried again. And again.
Ullo fell forward, and had to throw out his arms to stop himself from connecting with the ground, as the onslaught of pain from the Force made itself known.
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Serenity.
Obi-Wan had thought he knew the meaning of the word.
Now he would truly know. A lovely calm surrounded him, stroking him with silken, ethereal fingers.
He was submerged further. He didn't resist. He could feel an energy enter him, purely light, unbelievably strong.
It was more than he ever imagined.
He wouldn't let it go.
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The large, age-worn hands stopped, and slowly moved from the slender chest to the midsection, then to Qui-Gon's own face.
The scream that tore through the jungle night lacerated Ullo's shields, leaving a wound that bled thickly of grief and infuriation.
Strands of gray were plastered to Qui-Gon's forehead. His skin was glistening, flushed an angry red. And his head would not stop shaking, refusing to believe. He smoothed Obi-Wan's hair.
"Obi-Wan, Padawan, come back to me. Obi-Wan.." His voice was faint, lost. His fingers brushed across the pale face. "Obi-Wan, hear me. You must hear me Padawan come back to me."
He drew the body against his chest, cradling Obi-Wan's head. The hood fell. "Padawan, please."
Through his tears, Ullo saw something strange. "Qui-Gon…"
Of course, the man could not hear him, entirely consumed.
Ullo scrambled over to them. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Qui-Gon, his neck. There's something on his neck."
Qui-Gon looked at him, his face a miserable, tearful ruin. "What?"
"Something bit him. Th-There's a bite." Ullo gingerly touched an inflamed patch of skin on the back of Obi-Wan's neck. A small, barely perceptible sting wound had punctured the soft flesh. "A bad one."
Qui-Gon's eyes were unblinking. "The hypospray?"
Ullo immediately rummaged through the contents of his pack. In addition to the generic medicinal syrup, every Jedi also carried an injection that could halt, or at least weaken, the effects of most allergic reactions. He pulled out the clear hypo. "Give it to him?"
Qui-Gon nodded.
Ullo rolled up Obi-Wan's sleeve and pressed the needle against the crux of his arm. Whispering a silent prayer to the Force, he released the drug into the Padawan's bloodstream.
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Obi-Wan despaired, as a small tingle of pain made its way through the void. The enormous power welled inside him began to wilt.
No. He couldn't understand. What's happening? What would take him away from the serenity?
Padawan. Padawan please. Can you hear me?
Obi-Wan almost smiled. Master. Master. He was separated from the sweet oblivion and uplifting strength, it was beyond him again, so he reached out for that voice, that wonderfully familiar voice, and latched on.
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Qui-Gon held the limp body in his arms, unable to move, unwilling to breathe, until Obi-Wan did so.
A thousand thoughts flitted across his mind, shards of memory, hopes for the future. But without the grace and wonder of his apprentice, they would fester inside him—for he would never instill hope in anything again.
Ullo watched the still features of Obi-Wan, unbelieving that mere days before, this lifeless figure had been full of brilliance and the promise of youth. He felt the first cold tears course down his skin, and didn't attempt to dry them.
It would take a few moments for the inoculation to spread and do its work.
Do we have even THAT long? Ullo wondered darkly.
Qui-Gon's entire body trembled as he clutched for patience…for sanity. This must work. It must.
But his words fell to deaf ears, it seemed. Time progressed like a sleepy animal, moving slowly, unaware of the world crumbling around him. And once enough of it had passed, Qui-Gon sealed his eyes.
NO. NO…it can't be.
Ullo secured a hand firmly to his arm, to steady him.
Qui-Gon couldn't feel the vice-like fingers. Instead, his realm of sensation was limited to pain. Obliterating pain. A hurricane tearing ruthlessly through his soul.
I couldn't even say good-bye I couldn't feel him he couldn't feel me through the Force and now…and now…
Ullo had to look away, his weeping eyes finding Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon had mentioned that Yoda expected much from the boy.
He never could've expected this. A lump was lodged in the Knight's throat as more tears cascaded down his face.
He noticed that Obi-Wan's eyes were still slightly open, uncovered by the lids, glassy and staring at nothing.
With shaking fingers, Ullo reached out and closed them.
A tiny, frustrated grunt was the reaction.
The Knight gasped. Those eyes were struggling to open again, the blue lips trying to form words.
"Dear Force…gods..Qui-Gon." His own lips were numb with the shock, but he was able to call to the Master in a wavering voice.
Qui-Gon didn't answer him. But he didn't need to. At that moment, in the silent, shredded bowels of the jungle, Obi-Wan took a sharp inhale of air.
Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. He took in the half-open eyes, gleaming up at him with their luminescent, cerulean clarity. "Obi-Wan?"
A very faint shade of red drifted over the young pallor, giving flush where there had been the pale cast of death.
"M-Master?"
Both Jedi would agree, that in that moment, the word became the most beautiful, precious word ever uttered.
Qui-Gon's mouth quivered, but he nodded. "Yes, Padawan. I-It's me. St-Stay wit me now." He threaded his fingers with Obi-Wan's, and nearly broke down when his grip was returned.
"The hypo must've worked." Ullo concluded hoarsely.
Qui-Gon nodded, tears running down his face, spilling onto his apprentice's.
So many tears, he saw. Dropping in great rushes on Obi-Wan's cheeks and forehead and chin.
Ullo felt the small splashes against his shoulders and back. He looked up.
It was raining.
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