Chapter Three: Destiny's Dark Steps
It only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when its beating
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming…
So I'll hold my breath
To forget…
It only hurts when I breathe
---Shania Twain
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Small spaces were mastered easily, furniture was placed in a certain area, and left there. After a short while, memorization was complete. The black span before him didn't seem quite as long, not nearly as daunting.
The Temple corridors were far more difficult to maneuver through.
His senses had to be sharpened and fully alert. He needed to stay near the walls and railings for plain self-assurance and security. If someone passed by, Obi-Wan didn't want to be caught off guard and smack into them.
According to a distinctly bashful, but thoroughly protective and intelligent Mon Calamarian, a cane could alleviate some of the discomfort.
Why don't I just sprout a white beard that touches the floor while I'm at it?
The softer texture of carpet beneath his boots gave way to hard tile.
"Knight Kenobi?" An adolescent voice floated up, somewhere to his left side. He stopped, and titled his head minutely in the other's direction.
"Yes?"
He heard footsteps quickly heading toward him. A warm hand captured his forearm. "The Council is ready to receive you."
Obi-Wan gave a stiff nod. "Thank you." To his great displeasure, the male padawan, while stifling his own nervousness, lead him into the adjoining room.
He was too tired to object to the blatant disregard for his basest ability. How would he know I'm quite capable of walking into the Chamber?
I'm blind.
It's a common assumption.
He made it to the center, or at least he hoped it was, and prepared to be addressed, hands folded.
There were faint stirrings, and a quiet throat clearing, but nothing else. The pain in his head grew, burning above his brow. His body was clinging to the sluggish speed and aches from earlier. His entire focus was bleary.
Which made it much worse on his shielding.
"Patience, Obi-Wan." A kind, urging gurgle. "Wait, we all must, for remaining members of mission team."
Obi-Wan was stunned. If it weren't for his skill in reflexes, his jaw would have been hanging slack. Team? The news buoyed him. Maybe the Council was realizing the extent of his talent that counteracted the severe handicap. Obi-Wan couldn't figure what that was, but he was certainly glad they were allowing him to branch out. Even if he was assigned to be a shield for his peers under a barrage of blaster fire, he would accept with an eager attitude.
"I am gratef---"
The words were stolen away by the new arrivals. Two.
Instantly he knew the identity of the master. His mind absently supplied the younger Jedi's name.
They were the only people in this grand place he had successfully dodged for these last ten years. The people he would willingly leap out a thirty story window to avoid.
The people now standing two feet from him.
"Obi-Wan."
Someone was speaking to him, in a gentle, masculine rumble, but he was already detached from reality.
No. It doesn't make any sense. The Council would never, Yoda would never…
The searing flames in his head were fanned. The saliva dried in his throat. His heart suffered erratic bursts of beating. He felt faint.
No. It can't be…
A thrill of panic snapped inside. I could run…
"Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker," Mace began, apparently unaware of his upset, " You have been requested by the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine to aid the Naboo government. Queen Jamilla reports the law enforcement has been overwhelmed by the…"
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
"Terror created by a kidnapping ring. Senator Padme Amidala had headed the investigation, with the aid of a mole inside the underground operation, and …"
Qui-Gon leaned a bit forward, looking past his raptly attentive apprentice to Obi-Wan. The Knight's face was a smooth mask of Jedi serenity. But Jinn had spent a significant amount of his life with him, knew when swirling clouds formed over cerulean eyes, caught lightning fast flickers in his resolve.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was immensely troubled.
And the Master could hardly blame him. Though his shielding was immaculate, every delicately built wall in place, there were cracks. Despite the other man's feverish, never-ending efforts, Qui-Gon was continually linked to him on some level. They were bonded by a weak, almost transparent wisp of the Force.
Weak, but present.
He watched as Kenobi took a small step farther from Anakin's side, fingers curling around his wide cloak sleeve opening.
A rueful smile lifted the corner of Qui-Gon's mouth. He always did that when he was nervous… I suppose I never got around to fixing the habit…
A cold roil set off in his belly. There were many things I never got around to…
Qui-Gon saw the gleam of the chamber's light ring around Obi-Wan's hair. A strange sort of glowing halo settled in the ginger mane. It reminded him of the last time they stood together in this ornate circle, back when he was an innocent Padawan, braid trailing to his chest. Brightness always flocked to Kenobi.
As it did now, steady on his cheek, softening his skin.
Yet, when he focused on that face, he beheld the changes.
And felt a painful shaft through his heart.
Obi-Wan was no longer innocent.
Worst of all, Qui-Gon realized, it could very well be his fault.
An image sprang into his mind, inexplicable, and vivid.
Shattered glass. You couldn't touch such jagged, sharp things, never reassemble what was destroyed.
You just suffered the wounds.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin's heart was racing.
That name. He had never heard it spoken, outside of his own lusting murmurs, since they returned from their final visit to Naboo. Padme. Padme Amidala.
Joy was brimming in his heart, and for a moment, his other concerns, such as the way his master was staring at that damn Kenobi, were forgotten.
"…her many efforts have yielded little success. At the most, her investigation has compiled a basic description of a typical kidnapping victim. Muscular, young men, often with combat training. These crimes are on the rise, and the quick escalation is more than the Senator can handle.
"Her request to Palpatine for Jedi assistance was readily accepted. The Supreme Chancellor asked that those assigned to this mission would be very familiar with Naboo, thus saving valuable time an introduction to the area would take."
Oh, I am very familiar with Naboo. I memorized the slopes in the grassy hills, each design in the palace's ancient pillars, every curve…
"Of course, you three are the only Jedi in the Temple to have visited the planet."
Anakin nodded, scarcely able to breathe from excitement.
Yoda's droopy gaze had been on Obi-Wan since the briefing began, and they did not shift when the withered alien spoke. "Trying, this mission will surely be. Explained, Senator Amidala has, that this underground group, violent they are. And private, as well as careful. Many obstacles to overcome."
The apprentice had been in the master's company often enough to understand the cryptic multiple meaning. He glanced discreetly at Kenobi, whose lips were tightly compressed as he listened.
Anakin could feel the Force surrounding the Knight, and sensed a strange murkiness. Nothing was clear to decipher. There was, Anakin admitted with irritation, impressive armor guarding Kenobi's thoughts. No doubt dented by Qui-Gon's probing, but strong nonetheless.
There was something beyond that.
Anakin invaded a little further, his presence disappearing under heavy cloaking.
He saw Kenobi's hand go to his head, and the Padawan slipped out to avoid suspicion.
But not before he witnessed the dismal atmosphere in that elusive soul. Shadows, restless shadows, crept over Kenobi's unknown thoughts.
Anakin could predict what those nameless muses were.
Fear.
He had to suppress a grin.
The oh-so-valiant Obi-Wan Kenobi, hero and blind martyr, former student of Qui-Gon Jinn's, that left a lasting regret in the aging master's mind, he who was the cause for Anakin's harshest pain, was afraid!
"The transport is waiting in the bay. You are scheduled to depart in one standard hour."
Anakin bowed along with his fellow Jedi, braid dangling from the drop. He couldn't contain the satisfied smile.
I will have the chance to see my Padme again. She will see how I have grown…so much.
And Master will finally comprehend how far Kenobi is below me.
Then the idiot will be gone for good.
This was to be the best assignment of his Jedi career.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan straightened and started toward the door, jilted and somewhat dazed.
He had prayed the Council would have suddenly changed their plans, realized that this was foolish and dangerous. Once that was dashed, he debated lying, revealing he was not ready for such a mission, was better suited for low-grade tasks.
But, ultimately, he couldn't betray himself. He had earned this, no matter the undesirable details, and he would approach it with confidence.
Well, at least with tolerance…
He was passing through the doorframe when a short, quiet sentence disrupted him.
"You look well." It was faintly hopeful.
Obi-Wan nearly laughed, if not for his polite tendencies, and the agony coating his throat. Still perceptive as always, Master Jinn. He did not reply vocally, and entered the lift, pressing the button.
The door slid shut. He was alone.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin was walking to the empty elevator when Qui-Gon faltered, stopping before he could enter.
"Master?"
The lines in Qui-Gon's face appeared deeper. The usual calm of his countenance was abandoned for a furrowed brow. Eyes the rich color of midnight were distant. "Run along and pack. I am going to---take a walk."
The words were vacant, as was his demeanor. Anakin frowned. "Do you want me to accompany you?"
At first the Padawan thought his mentor had not heard, for Qui-Gon was still. Then, he shook his head, and squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "No…No…It won't take long…"
Anakin watched Qui-Gon journey down the corridor, posture slumped.
And an anger welled inside Skywalker, blistering and powerful. The heat prickled his cheeks.
So this is how it will be. As long as Kenobi is involved, he will be forever distracted.
His trembling fingers curled to a taut fist. Just wait. Master will see.
Obi-Wan Kenobi will be nothing.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The building fury was felt instantly. He had never erected an official mental connection with Skywalker, but their sessions was enough to bond them through the Force.
Palpatine was not a fool. He understood the potential of the lad. He was self-centered, intelligent and gifted in the Jedi arts.
It would be extremely easy for him to embark on his own training, using the skills already developed at that blasted Temple. With a bit of honing, he could be a serious threat to the Order.
Anakin Skywalker could be dangerous. Not to mention profitable. For the Sith, of course.
Palpatine had no intention of guiding him down the shadowy path. Skywalker could be as reckless and pig-headed as he liked. For now, Maul was a student of ample ability and strict obedience.
For now.
He lifted the black hood, leaving only the smile in view. A chilling smile, curling withered lips. Darth Sidious heard a knock at the door, and rose, robes brushing the floor. Cold grace flowed through him.
The steel slid away. Maul bowed.
"The boy?" He asked.
"Oh yes, he could prove to be useful. The rage…pulses in him."
"And what of the Knight?"
A serious line straightened his mouth, surrounded by fish belly white skin. "He is not as vulnerable. Not like the Master. The Knight is special.
"Which is why he cannot be allowed to continue as a Jedi."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan took brisk steps, totally focused on escaping to the confines of his apartment.
He was light-headed, and far too warm.
"Obi."
He rubbed his temples, sighing. Exhaustion permeated his usual coolness. "Can you ever just leave things alone?"
Mejant clasped his arm and helped him complete the remainder of the journey. "No."
"Well, can you ever just leave me alone? Did you stand here waiting for me the entire time?"
"Yes. What happened at the Council?"
The faint tinge of humor disappeared from his face. "I'm leaving in an hour."
It was not what she wanted to hear. His place should be at the Temple. Where it was safe. But she knew it was necessary for his esteem. So she smiled, sending a happy burst through their bond, and kissed his hand.
The hand was shaking.
"Obi-Wan, where is the assignment?" Mejant asked, suddenly worried and fighting dread.
"Naboo."
"What?" Her eyes, so darkly brown they bordered black, were wide. Her breath hitched. "Obi, what? How could----I don't----what?"
He chuckled. "My sentiments exactly."
Mejant grasped both his hands then. "The Council is sending you to Naboo?!"
"There is a kidnapping ring. Unstoppable, so far. Chancellor Palpatine specifically requested for Jedi familiar with the planet."
"Doesn't that sound---"
"Hazardous? Very. Don't worry, love. I won't be going alone."
"Oh." Her tension lessened slightly. "Who's coming with you?"
"Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan Anakin Skywalker."
The names were announced in monotone formality. Mejant saw her companion struggle against the inner tumult. "Obi, it will be alright. They---"
"I don't want to hear about them."
His voice gave out. He coughed into his hand.
Mejant reached up and flattened her palm to his forehead. Heat met her probing touch. She moved the fingers down, caressing his cheek. "You're ill. You're running a temperature. You should go to Bant. Maybe you need to stay behind."
He rested his weary head on her shoulder, strands of ebony soothing his skin. "And give him the satisfaction? N---" He cleared his throat. "No. I'm going to complete this assignment. Whatever it takes, I will. I'll prove everyone wrong. He'll know."
"Know what?"
Determination shaded his visage. "He'll know that I'm not a helpless, half-trained child."
"Obi-Wan." She was gently admonishing. "Don't do this for the wrong reasons. Not for revenge, or pride. Do it because it is what you were meant to do.
"Do it because you are a Jedi."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon wandered into the area, allowing the sound of gentle trickling to pacify him. Water streamed from ceramic fountains and formed a sort of harmony. It was a beloved tune well-known by any Jedi, from toddling creche' babies to ancient masters with crooked backs and worn canes.
He headed straight for that certain fountain, the one partially hidden by giant, wilting leaves from a neighboring tropical tree. He sat on the hard surface. Droplets sprayed onto his neck.
It was here, surrounded by nature's music and pure light emanating from oval windows, that Qui-Gon Jinn had experienced the greatest joys of his life.
He had brought Tahl to this secluded spot as a young man, smile wide and dreams all-encompassing. She had kissed his cheek, touching full, ruby lips to his undeserving skin. He had blushed. She had laughed. And kissed him again.
Years later, Qui-Gon lead Obi-Wan here, after a rather harrowing mission. The boy had been drained, steps dragging and eyes drooping. When his master lowered him to the fountain's make-shift bench, he followed gratefully, without argument. There they had stayed, Obi-Wan's head resting against the sturdy shoulder of his mentor, as they both listened to the quiet chirps of white birds perched atop the tree.
Anakin never liked the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He found the near-silence 'annoying'. He preferred busying himself with some mechanical project, where his mind would be occupied, and stray thoughts were prevented.
It disconcerted Qui-Gon that his apprentice would need such total distraction. Why were his thoughts so difficult to push away?
Certainly they would both require a shelving of inappropriate musings. Anakin would be meeting Padme Amidala once more. Already the master sensed ecstatic emotion within the youth. He was glad the boy was finding someone to bond with in his own age group, but she was beyond a mere friend.
Qui-Gon sensed much more.
Yet, he was also prone to preoccupation these days. Too often his focus hazed, his concern shifted.
The past was the past.
Yes. Warmth crept onto his face, drying the moisture there. I must put it behind me NOW.
Or I never will.
Somewhere, he heard the sound of laughter. Free and lilting, as unselfconscious as a child's.
Then he realized it was from a yesterday, long passed.
His ears had never been given such a gift since…
Qui-Gon shook his head in an effort to clear it.
Now or never.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan stood at the foot of his bed, empty travel bag in front of him.
He breathed hard.
This was the grim reality of the situation, this was how you knew for a fact. Just the simple necessity of packing.
But, he had to ponder, if it was such an easy task, why was he frozen in place?
Occasionally, when Obi-Wan had been an apprentice, he experienced pre-mission jitters. His hands would go clammy and his stomach executed a nauseating series of flips and flops. He would, as is the unconquerable custom, attempt to conceal his uneasiness from his master.
Qui-Gon's eyes would linger on him, and then the seasoned Jedi would announce, with great confidence: "You are nervous, my Padawan."
And Obi-Wan would look down, nodding.
Then a comforting pressure was applied to his shoulder. He would glance up at the man, who smiled at him and shook his head.
"The person who cannot feel anxiety is the person who does not exist."
Obi-Wan snorted, partial relief glittering in his gaze. "I don't remember that mantra."
A rough thumb stroked his chin, playing with the gentle cleft. "You wouldn't. A Jinn original, that one."
"Oh." The boy grinned genuinely. "No wonder it sounded so sloppy."
Qui-Gon would ruffle his spiked hair and feign hurt. "Hey, that was my pride and joy…"
Laughter followed, until they were collapsed on the floor, holding their sides.
Obi-Wan sighed, traipsing to his closet, hand out to touch upon the door.
What to bring…
He coughed harshly, bending. His throat was left raw.
He was, to the bone, miserable.
How about a noose?
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Bant walked into Obi-Wan's room. He was laying in the bed, hands folded on his stomach. Lifeless strands of hair dangled in his face.
He did not seem to notice.
Black smudges marked the skin under his eyes, and made the unseeing orbs appear to be nestled in deep caverns.
She stood at his side, linking his limp hand with her warm fingers. "How was it?" She asked tentatively.
"Distant." He replied in dull detachment. "I…don't know. I couldn't really…feel what was going on. It was the embodiment of every dream I had had as a child---Jedi associated dreams anyway. It was the goal." He shuddered. "And it was like I wasn't there."
Bant nodded, bending down and kissing his forehead.
Obi-Wan's touch strayed to the space behind his ear, where the hair was freshly cut. Short. One length.
There had been no actual ceremony. Master Yoda and Master Windu were the only others present. The latter escorted Obi-Wan, still condemned to a wheelchair until his leg was a bit stronger, the bone given time to fully regenerate.
It took place in Yoda's quarters, of all the odd locations. The Council members explained they wanted somewhere private and familiar. Traditionally, the Padawan's Master decided whether it would be an intimate or large celebration.
Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn had broke numerous customs these few months.
Yoda had quietly agreed to the youth's renouncement of his mentor, could read the pain and shaky resolve. The wizened creature understood that some things were too severe to forgive.
Not this early, anyway.
So a weak Obi-Wan, wrapped in a quilt to stave off chills, despite the damp and humid conditions of the apartment, had been helped to a bowing position by Windu, pillows cushioning his sensitive leg.
He had felt a clawed hand stroke his cheek ( the coarse flesh did not scrape like many initiates believed). Neither of the elder Jedi questioned if he had changed his mind, if he was not prepared for this large and permanent step. The ritual words were spoken, the shearing completed in dead silence.
And Obi-Wan was a Jedi Knight.
It didn't matter if he felt like one or not. His official title was enough.
"Obi, you're being released to your new residence tomorrow. All your belongings have been set up there. It's very nice."
He nodded. "Um…What level is on, Bant?"
She bit her lip. "I'm not sure---"
"Don't play dumb…though I know it's your strong point."
She giggled and punched his shoulder. "At least I only play it."
Obi-Wan's smile vanished. "Seriously, what level?"
A heavy sigh. "Level Twelve."
He sat up, face grave. "No. I have to be moved. I can't stay on that floor."
"Obi, don't overreact, it's a big level. You won't even notice---"
"NO. I have to be moved now."
The order was deliberately slow and pronounced.
Bant frowned, resting her palm on his knee. "Obi, everything is already---"
"No. I want to be on Level Thirty. Or higher. I can't be on the same level as---" He paused, unable to continue.
Bant saw he was quaking.
"Okay, Obi. I'll arrange the move."
"I can't." He whispered meekly.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin stopped at the opening. A travel pack was slung over both his shoulders. Qui-Gon had never returned, and they were due to leave for Naboo in fifteen minutes. The Master was prompt to a fault. Being late was a sign of irresponsibility, and frazzled focus, he liked to say, whenever Anakin was dragging.
Another case of double standards. He blew out a breath, rippling his lips. And why does he always have to come HERE?
It wasn't an ugly room. The walls were cool colored and the abundant water added to the attempted serene feel.
But it wasn't peaceful there. The silence was irksome, grinding at him.
In the quiet, he could hear things he didn't want to.
He would have yelled for Qui-Gon while waiting outside, but a Master was meditating under a yowlee tree. A Master who had favored him with scowls during every encounter they had. Disapproving.
Anakin pumped his legs, brushing past the elder Jedi before he could catch another sneer. He found Qui-Gon sitting on the curved edge of a fountain, eyes closed, hands on his knees, a smile subtly touching his mouth.
He had not seen his Master appear so content in recent memory. "Master." He said, rather gruffly, shaking the thick arm.
Qui-Gon jumped to his feet. "Ani?!" Red burned on his bearded cheeks.
Anakin nearly smiled. Qui-Gon never seemed to address him by anything other than his full first name anymore. "Master, we have to go. The transport---"
"Ah, yes. I---I was gathering my thoughts. I'm ready." He straightened his tunics and accepted the plain brown cloth bag.
They began the trek to the docking bay. Qui-Gon's head was upturned, eyes glazed and too distant.
"Master? Are you feeling …out of sorts?"
"Why would you think that, Anakin?"
"It's just that…Why do we need a team to investigate for Padme?" He swiftly changed the subject.
"Senator Amidala. And the more help she receives, the quicker and more successful the investigation will be, Anakin."
Anakin gnawed restlessly at his lip. The frustration was overpowering. "Why does he have to come and ruin everything?" He blurted.
Qui-Gon stopped.
The air in the Temple corridor was suddenly cold. "What?"
Anakin did not let his eyes wander to some diverting feature, he stared directly into the Master's face. "I said, why does he have to come? What could he possibly add to Padme's efforts? He'll screw things up---"
Wrath broiled in Qui-Gon, but his demeanor was unaffected. Carefully, he approached his apprentice's errors. "My very young, dreadfully misguided apprentice…Why would you say such a disrespectful thing? Do you deem someone unworthy based on handicaps, which are completely and utterly out of their control? And, Knight Kenobi was blinded while protecting Senator Amidala, if you will remember."
"But---"
He held up a hand, jaw tensed. "I do not accept, nor overlook, this blatant prejudice. If you were to have your leg or hand or arm chopped off in battle, would you want others to look down upon you due to the injury? Would it make you any less of a Jedi…or a person?" He waited for the proper response.
Anakin remained stiffly silent.
"What say you, apprentice?"
"We're going to be late."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The hanger was noisy, as usual. Ships departing, mechanics working, droids buzzing around.
Mejant stroked Obi-Wan's arm as they walked, a weak smile on her face to allay the concerned glances given to the blinded Knight, though their worry was mirrored by her own.
He had not spoken a word since they left his apartment. His eyes were reduced to slits. A thin sheen of sweat glowed on his skin.
The young woman could feel the heat of fever in him. His hair was dampened and flush lined his cheeks.
"Obi-Wan, are you su---"
"I'm fine. The trip will take a day or so. I'll have time to rest."
She touched his warm forehead. "Promise that you won't overdo it?"
"I promise." He croaked.
Mejant frowned. "You sound terrible."
"Why, thank you my sweet . I can always rely on you for a kind word."
She laughed, leaning forward and kissing his neck. "Don't mention it."
Obi-Wan abruptly pulled away. His expression hardened. He inhaled shakily. "They're here."
Mejant turned around, and saw Qui-Gon and Anakin approaching. The Master looked at her, with those deep, darkly blue eyes. She wheeled back to Obi-Wan, her heart clenched up. "Obi, be strong. Okay?"
He nodded, but there was a grim undertone to the movement. "Okay."
"I love you."
Then Obi-Wan heard footsteps stop near them.
Mejant bowed, black hair falling around her. "Master Jinn." She said indifferently, and strode away.
Obi-Wan swallowed, ignoring the pain that swelled from the action, and folded his hands. The black before him was never more disconcerting. He wondered how the older man was reacting, if he and Skywalker were exchanging disgusted looks. Wondered if their hate for him was illustrated in their faces.
"Knight Kenobi."
"Master Jinn…Padawan Skywalker."
Anakin stepped closer to his Master. "Knight Kenobi."
A droid rolled between them. A mechanical voice reverberated from the metal being. "The transport is prepared for departure." It began to head to the ship.
Qui-Gon was about to offer his arm to lead Obi-Wan, but the Knight was following the distinctive sound of the droid.
Jinn spared a moment to marvel at his former apprentice's skill.
Anakin sighed, crossing his arms and walking up the ramp.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Master Yoda's green paws curled around his gimer stick, standing in the shadows of a corner of the hangar, sleepy gaze focused keenly on the trio entering the transport. He could detect the displeasure in Anakin Skywalker even from this distance. Yes, this mission would certainly test the boy.
Perhaps it would prove what the ancient Council Member had suspected since a small, liberated slave had trailed after Qui-Gon Jinn into the chamber. Yoda had been concerned from the moment Jinn placed his hands on those little shoulders. He could remember the stricken look that had claimed Obi-Wan, the spark of brilliance in his eyes dimming, until they were forever dead.
Young Skywalker was the fabled Chosen One, according to many Masters, though he had not heard the boast from Qui-Gon in some time. Still, the rumor was rampant throughout the Temple, and occasionally the topic of private Council meetings.
But Yoda had glimpsed the world beyond extensive shielding, that which resided in Skywalker's core.
There was light, for he was not wicked, not as his behavior sometimes suggested. There were high aspirations, admirable and good. Skywalker wanted to be a Jedi Knight. Too soon, maybe, for Yoda's liking. There was much for the apprentice to learn.
If he embarked on his knighthood prematurely, with certain holes unfilled, Skywalker could be… a force against the Order.
Something inside Yoda stirred, and it was painful and cold. It felt very akin to premonition.
A prediction heavy for his aged shoulders to bear.
"There is no turning back for them, then." Mace Windu's voice rumbled richly from behind him.
Yoda's ears twitched. "What expect you, Master Windu? Think, you did, that Knight Kenobi would come running back?" He craned his neck, studying the dark Master from over his shoulder. "Lost faith, all have, for him…Lingering confidence, few have."
Mace moved beside him. "Does he need so much support? Is he that reliant on others' approval?"
"Hummph." The green, wrinkled alien grumbled. "Insecure, he has every right to be. But too long, it has festered in him… Faded, his pride has."
"He is humble---"
"Suffering, he is!" Yoda insisted, voice rising, hitting his cane against the slick floor. "Without true purpose, he is. Meaningless, he feels, life is. Lightly, I cannot take such feelings."
Mace frowned. "What? What is it that you sense?"
"A time of…void…is ahead."
The other Councilor dropped gracefully to his knees. Anxiety was sketched at his brow. "Void?"
"Mmmm." Yoda hummed. "Those once known will be strangers.
"And then everything will be different."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
It rocked beneath his feet, the sounds of the ship warming up clanged in his ears.
He waited, a hand resting lightly on the seatbelt. Then, in a smooth, almost bird-like ascent, the transport burst toward space.
The movement thrumming at his toes reduced to a small vibration, one that would be present as long as the engines were powered, stretching life out to the mechanical innards of the vessel.
Obi-Wan felt for the belt's release button. Every piece of furniture, from beds to armchairs, were equipped to secure passengers in the event of danger. He clicked it, and stood, touch lingering on the sturdy sofa.
This was a foreign environment, he acknowledged grimly, and it would require time before he was comfortable. For now, it was black, featureless space. Of course, that was how everything had to be presented at first. Only after careful physical inspection could he familiarize himself, memorize the numerous obstacles that hindered him, and settle among it all.
That wasn't an easy thing, when you considered his present company.
He sensed him near, the boy as well. Both Force signatures were controlled behind seamless walls.
Must be a trend. Obi-Wan mused, as he tightened his own mental protection, and blocked any thought, even stray whims, from invasion. If I could just get to my room…
"I'm Captain Laernat. Not Jedi, but employed by them. Quite a compliment!"
Obi-Wan listened to the new, grating voice, which served to wear his defenses against the agonizing ache down another notch. The heat was tingling in his head.
"Naboo isn't that far, so we'll be looking at about uh…a day until landing. There are service bots in the kitchen area, and two bedrooms. I trust you can handle things."
"Yes, we'll be fine. Thank you, Captain." Qui-Gon assured.
Obi-Wan gave a curt nod.
Footsteps departed, accompanied by idle whistling, and a door swooshed shut.
And choking silence engulfed the room.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Doctor Mariss lifted the man's eyelid and was pleased to find a partially active pupil. The white surrounding it was amassed with red veins. His skin was drained to a sickly pallor.
But the patient was alive.
He flatted his palm to the forehead, in a gentle but firm manner of a seasoned physician. "Nurse, where did they say this man was discovered?"
"Outside an office building about a kilometer away. Someone stumbled upon him. He was jabbering about being snatched from his home. People trying to brainwash him. Nonsense like that." She looked up at her tall colleague. "Delirium?"
Mariss nodded, lips pursed, returning to the sweat, unconscious man on the gurney. "Maybe." He mumbled absently. The patient's chest was bared, and hard muscles rippled his body. Mariss leaned a bit closer. On the side of the man's head was a red spot, indenting the skin to form a circle. He fingered it while frowning. "Nurse?"
"Yes?"
A huff passed through his nostrils. "Call the authorities."
She hesitated. "Is it something… serious?"
"I don't know. But---" He scratched his chin. "It could be."
She turned and, with brisk steps, left to fulfill his request.
"Mmmmph…ugh…n---no…"
Mariss was instantly at the man's side, checking his pulse as he spoke. "Sir? Sir? Wake up." He commanded in urgency.
"Hmmhmmph…" The feverish patient stirred, and his face was twisted into a grimace. "Am I caught?"
"No. You're at Theed General. Naboo?"
Glassy eyes widened. The man lifted himself to his elbows, breathing erratically. Scraggly, blonde hair dangled in his eyes. "I---I'm in a hospital?" The words were slurred and barely coherent, as if he were trying to speak with his tongue between his teeth. "
"Yes. You were taken here by a kindly person. You are very sick---"
"No! No! I just escaped! Sick because of them!"
His tone was wearily persistent, and sharp pain plunged through Mariss' chest. He dealt with raving maniacs now and then. The hospital didn't have a filter to keep out the crazies and criminals. He had learned quite long ago to treat everyone with the same mild compassion. "Them? Who?"
The man swallowed. "Oh----they…From under the streets! With the metal clampings that…oh…"
Mariss squeezed his shoulder. "Don't tire yourself. Just tell me your name sir, and everything will be alright from here on out."
"'Kay…I can tell that…They wanted to take that…but I got away…Rhell Vininon." Then he went boneless, collapsing onto the pillows, unconscious.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Maul wrapped another layer of black cloth around his wrists, but the blood seeped through seconds later. It would be difficult for anyone else to differentiate between the life-giving, warm liquid, and the same colored tattoos that covered his smooth skin.
They were a normal part of his existence, as any other would consider theirs.
He couldn't remember that day. When the designs were burned into his young, woefully tender flesh. Sometimes, however, he would catch the scent of smoke, and his body would heat.
No, he wouldn't remember something like that. It had happened when he was no more than a mere tot, scooped up into coarse, dark arms, and taken to have his devotion to his Order pressed permanently upon him.
Was there a choice in the matter?
Yes. He contemplated, droplets of the blood splattering on the ground. He watched them splash against the unyielding surface. Mesmerized. I was chosen. The Dark chose me. To defeat what has sought to destroy us since the beginning.
I am one of two.
I am chosen.
He could recall vividly other events, later memories.
At seven, during practice on a sand-roughened world, he had flinched at the approach of a huge, famously poisonous insect.
His Master knew, had seen every shameful moment of his childish, weak reaction.
His Master saw everything. Hooded eyes that followed him, ready to pounce if he were to falter.
I will be perfect. The Dark will course through me without hindrances. It will complete me.
After their training session was complete, his Master dragged him violently by the tunic back to their rickety cabin. He was thrown into a pitch black room, landing painfully on his hands.
The door had closed. Several locks were applied.
And then, a swarm of the buzzing creatures, swelled with potent venom, attacked him.
He was not released from that prison until the next morning. His voice was raw from tortured screaming. He could not speak for days.
But he had never cried out again.
Today, Maul miscalculated during an intense spar match, and scraped his arms on the rocky terrain. It was several hours before he was allowed to tend to the stinging wounds. Yet, he did not feel the unpleasant sensation.
Hate was a balm, running over his faults and uncertainty until he couldn't sense them anymore. Each wound was a lesson. Each lesson was a step closer.
Closer and closer, they advanced.
More blood was pooling.
He imagined it was Obi-Wan Kenobi's.
Jealousy flared in him, quickly stifled by a surge of rancor.
My Master is wise. He despises the Jedi to his bones. He would not---
He refused to have the thought come to conclusion. It was a foolish thing, envy.
The Jedi will all die. Felled like twisted old trees.
Kenobi first.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan cleared his throat, for approximately the one hundredth time during this trying day. He wanted to brush past them both and curl up under the sheets of a warm bed, wake up to realize this was just a horrible nightmare.
He had asked for such many times before, when the pressure of his disability was too great.
It never happened.
He reached out with tentative caution, assessing the other Jedi in the Force.
Still shielded.
Finally, he wearily sighed, and his voice swallowed up the buzzing silence. "The threat on Naboo is disturbing."
He waited for the open-ended comment to generate response. As he predicted, it was Jinn who answered. Skywalker was most likely standing with his arms crossed, a figurative dark cloud over his head, shooting daggers at Obi-Wan with his eyes. In his tired, sick state, Obi-Wan could not have cared less.
"Yes. Quite." The Master paused. "In the mission outline, it was mentioned that Senator Amidala has used a mole to infiltrate the kidnapping ring. A woman who was once romantically linked with the leader. Do you think that a wise decision?"
"Wise, perhaps. Not at all safe for the woman, however. If her cover was blown, it is unlikely she would escape the place with her life. One of our priorities in this should be lowering her need to assist. "
Qui-Gon smiled slightly, something brightening in his eyes.
Anakin glared at the Knight. He was failing terribly at concealing his hatred, but that was moot, since his Master could never sense the dark emotions through his thick mental walls.
"But, Master, if both Padme and the woman believe her work as a mole is helpful, which it must be if Padme has enlisted her help, then we could be sacrificing the success of the mission."
Qui-Gon looked at him, and the brilliance was faded in midnight blue orbs. "Good counterpoint, Anakin."
"I never said we should terminate her service to the investigation completely. But, Force forbid, if the woman was killed by the ringleader, we will have lost a vital source of information. By lessening her risks, we are also lessening our own." Obi-Wan observed calmly. The soreness in his throat was becoming audible.
Just shut up! Anakin frowned. Powerful indignation rose in his chest. "What would you know about something like this, anyway? It's not like you----"
"Anakin." Qui-Gon thundered. "Ultimately, the use of the mole will be decided by herself. We cannot provide the decision for her."
Anakin tore his focus from Kenobi. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon nodded his approval at his apprentice's acquiesce. "Now, we have much more to discuss before we land on planet. We best not waste time."
Three hours passed, and every relevant topic had been addressed. All three could have rivaled the kidnappers in their knowledge of the underground system.
Obi-Wan stood from the armchair he had sat in. His muscles ached, and he could barely talk. Exhaustion loomed in his awareness.
He made his way to the kitchen, trying his best not to feel objects for security. A bot picked up on his presence, and beeped.
"What- would-you- like?"
"Triali leaf tea."
"Just-a-moment."
Obi-Wan lifted a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
"How ill are you?"
The Knight turned. He cursed his slowed Force reflexes. "What? What are you talking about?"
His denial was flimsy, and Qui-Gon effortlessly passed it. "Triali leaf tea? You've always despised the stuff…Except when you were sick. Then you drank it like a dehydrated man would water."
Obi-Wan did not react facially. He folded his hands in his cloak sleeves. "You---" He coughed. "Have an excellent memory, Master Jinn."
A smooth ceramic mug was placed in his hand. But instead of cold metal droid fingers, he felt familiar, callused skin against his for a brief moment.
Obi-Wan took a step back.
"You could have told me. That you were ill…I would have dismissed you."
"You, Master Jinn, have not had the ability to dismiss me in quite a long time. I am a Jedi Knight. Not a sniffling initiate." He walked from the room.
To his dismay, Qui-Gon followed him.
"Is that what you have planned for this assignment? Avoid conversation by spouting off some self-righteous garbage and storming away? Obi-Wan, I thought I had taught you better than that."
Obi-Wan stopped. His head was pounding. He didn't have the time, or the patience, for this fruitless argument. "This may be surprising to you, Master Jinn, but your teachings were lacking in more areas than you may think. Now please, leave me alone."
He had readied himself for further debate, but he heard Qui-Gon depart.
For some stupid, inexplicable reason, something very tiny and buried in Obi-Wan was disappointed.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin was walking to the quarters he had to share with his Master.
More like sneaking. The graying Jedi observed, eyebrow cocked. "Anakin."
The young man halted, his shoulders slumping. He turned around to face Qui-Gon. "Yes, Master?"
"Well, I'm certainly glad to see you've held onto a shred of Jedi protocol."
Gooseflesh prickled on Anakin's skin. "What?"
"At least you can call me Master. After your embarrassing behavior in the main room, I was wondering how far you wanted to slip in your dignity."
Hurt flashed in murky eyes, but was soon replaced by coolness. "I don't know what you mean, Master."
Qui-Gon's fingers were beginning to curl. He placed his hands on his hips. "Really? You mean to tell me that in the span of a few hours you have totally forgotten what you said, or what you were attempting to say, to Knight Kenobi?"
Give me a break. "I wasn't aware I had said anything that would harm my dignity."
Trembling lips were pressed together. "Then you believe what you spoke to him was perfectly acceptable?"
"It's the truth, Master. When everything else, like old sympathy and pity, is stripped away, that's what it is. I don't care if no one other than me in the whole universe is willing to admit it, that's what it is." Darkness descended upon the face. "That's what he is."
"And what is that, apprentice?"
Anakin inhaled a sharp breath. "Useless." He spat. "He's like this comatose family member everyone refuses to put of his misery, just because they're thinking of how he used to be. For Force's sake, Master, pull the freaking cord, before he wrecks this whole mission."
Qui-Gon had listened quietly to the words. Let them sink into his consciousness. At first, he would not believe such things had come from the mouth of a Jedi Padawan, the Chosen One, and his closest companion for ten years. The boy he had taken under his care, had poured knowledge and compassion into, had come to love. This was Anakin Skywalker? Apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn?
Who were they anymore?
He grasped Anakin's upper arm. "Come here." He growled, and pulled the youth down the hall.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan stepped into his room. The congestion was building in him. His breathing was clogged, and every gulp of air was a struggle. The heat swarmed. His eyes, eyes that would never provide him anything again, were watering and stingy.
A tortured groan escaped him. He took a sip of the tea. Steaming, herbal liquid slid down his throat, but could not numb the pain there.
"Hello.-I-am-Siron-7. A-bot-specializing-in-care-for-the-visibly-impaired. I-have-been-instructed-to-aid-Obi-Wan-Kenobi-a-guest-of-Senator-Amidala."
Obi-Wan wiped his nose. "That won't be necessary."
"Yes-it-is. Senator-Amidala-sent-me-from-the-planet-Naboo-with-important-instructions-to-aid-Obi-Wan-Kenobi. She-insists."
"Fine. Then can you tell me where the bed is?"
"Certainly-Obi-Wan-Kenobi. The-bed-unit-is-twelve-point-five-inches-from-your-current-location."
"Thank you." He mumbled, and bent slightly, hands searching for the soft mattress.
He felt it. Gratefully, he sank down. He coughed violently into his fist, then kicked off his boots and removed his belt. He sat them neatly together. When his tunic and sash were peeled from his sweaty body, they too were placed on the stack.
He rested, too tired and spent from his short ordeal to crawl beneath the covers yet.
Slowly, his head fell into his hands. A strong wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed thickly.
And wondered why his mind was spinning, while his body was suddenly so light.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
"Sit down." Qui-Gon released Anakin's arm, almost shoving him toward a chair.
Anakin, for all his fiery cockiness and stubborn nature, obeyed without a word. His head was bowed, and a long Padawan braid brushed against his chest.
Qui-Gon began pacing, massive hands bracing his temples.
Frustration and anger tightened the atmosphere.
Anakin chewed at his lip. He had never seen his Master this upset.
"I…need to tell you something. Something that has been hidden in my heart. Pain I thought would never have to be unearthed." He looked at his protégé, and pale tinges of resentment laced his furrowed brow. "But just a moment ago, you proved the need." He settled on the sleepcouch edge. "You must listen to this, Anakin. You cannot tune me out this time. Do you understand?"
Anakin nodded sullenly.
"Good.
"When I was a very young initiate, I met a fellow initiate, a girl. We grew to be the best of friends, and a deep, wonderful connection bonded us together. For many years, our relationship was dear and strong. I came to…love her…" He cast his eyes to the ground. "But I did not fully realize my affections until after Obi-Wan was my apprentice. I told her how I felt and, " He smiled softly. "She felt as I did. We pledged ourselves as soul mates. And, for a short while, that intelligent, radiant woman, who helped foil an attempt to destroy the entire Temple, belonged to me. She was never intimidated by my temper, or meek when I was wrong. She was everything I needed her to be. What I lived for. Who I wanted beside me as I raised my apprentice. She was remarkable."
"Was?"
Qui-Gon dug his chin into his fist, clenching his eyes shut. "She was killed…ruthlessly…during a mission. I was beside her as the last breath slipped from her lovely lips, and her delicate hands went cold. Tahl was gone. That warm, loving light was gone.
"And for quite awhile, I was drowning in my grief. The Temple's loss was enormous. Devastation wracked every Jedi. Those who had known her, those who had loved her." His voice wobbled. "My wife is---dead."
Anakin watched a single tear course down his Master's rough cheek. Renewed agony was twisting the man's spirit. "Master…"
Qui-Gon gathered a breath. "What I didn't mention, Anakin, was that Tahl was blinded. For several of her last years, she was sightless."
The boy blinked. "She…was…?"
"Yes, she was. And I loved her. The force rained its power into her. She will never dim in the Temple's memory.
"She was resilient. Her handicap never slowed her down. And when you…when you speak words that express your feelings of Knight Kenobi's inferiority, based on his blindness, I cannot help but despair." He stood before Anakin, and gripped his shoulder. "It hurts me. Badly."
For maybe the first time in his life, Anakin was truly struck silent by shame.
An awkward, quelled mood stretched between them, as Qui-Gon recovered from the emotional draining, and the Padawan wallowed in his chagrin and scathing guilt for depressing the older man.
Anakin looked down at his folded hands, rubbing his fingers together restlessly. "Master, I'm so---"
"Excuse-me-sirs."
They both turned to see a tall droid, with two oval body segments and circular yellow eyes that blinked in rapidity.
"I-am-Siron-7. I-have-been-sent-by-Senator-Amidala--"
Anakin instantly perked.
"To-assist-Obi-Wan-Kenobi-who-is-visually-impaired-and-friend-to-Senator-Amidala."
Thank you for informing me." Qui-Gon replied in very near deadpan, still fragile from his dark reminiscing.
"Obi-Wan-Kenobi's-body-temperature-is-currently-one-hundred-and-five-degrees-farenheit. This-figure-is-six-and-one-half-degrees-above-average-human-body-temperature."
Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "Force." He rushed out of the room, leaving a light stirring of air in his wake.
The droid continued undeterred. "I-have-been-programmed-by-the-makers-to-alert-individuals-in-closest-proximity-if-Obi-Wan-Kenobi's-health-is-negatively-altered."
Anakin rolled his eyes, switched off the annoying bot, and trudged dutifully after his Master.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon stopped at Obi-Wan's door, and pounded on the metal surface. "Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!" No answer. His stomach lurched. "OBI-WAN!!!"
He punched in the Master override code, which was used in emergency situations to unlock any area on the ship. The door began opening, his heart fluttering in horrible anticipation.
After a painful eternity, the room was revealed to him.
And the Knight was strewn across the bed, clad in a pair of leggings. He knew at once that Obi-Wan was unconscious.
Qui-Gon went to his side. He leaned over the ill man, and saw dark red was splotching his cheeks. The Master pressed a shaky palm to the blazing forehead.
"Oh Force, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon slid his arms under his former apprentice, lifting him gingerly into his arms.
Anakin walked in, appearing very nonchalant, considering the worry charging the air. "What's wrong with him?" Besides the usual.
Qui-Gon sat on the sleepcouch and cradled the limp, impossibly hot form against him. "He's running a high fever. Unresponsive…" His eyes remained sewn to Obi-Wan's sweaty face. "Anakin, go to the Captain. Ask for any medicine there is onboard. Antibiotics, cold syrup…anything that can help." He glanced at his unaffected protégé. "Hurry."
"Yes, Master." He jogged out, haste due only to his desire not to be reprimanded again. Once more, Kenobi has managed to captivate my Master's complete attention.
Qui-Gon brushed a damp, ginger strand back. The illness was racing through Obi-Wan's system, and fast depleting the Knight's strength. He could feel the harsh labor it took for a breath to be received. He touched Obi-Wan's cheek tenderly. "Obi-Wan, wake up. Wake up so I know you're alright."
In response, a weak cough ripped from the throat.
"Come on. Wake up now. Obi…"
Obi-Wan moaned. Moisture streamed from his closed eyes.
"I know it hurts, Pa----Obi-Wan. But I can help." He stroked the soft hair, as he had done for so many years, now bygone to his withered spirit. It was as it used to be. A little smile flashed across his face, gone before he ever realized it existed. Caring for him, healing him…
"All he has is this generic stuff." Anakin swished a plastic bottle of red liquid in front of him, then tossed it on the bed.
Qui-Gon grabbed the medicine. He poured a bit into the cap. "Can you get some cool cloths, please?"
Anakin nodded. "Yes, Master." I always wanted to be a servant. A step up from being a slave.
Qui-Gon tilted Obi-Wan's head back, supported by his forearm. Carefully, he put the cap to cracked lips. "You need to drink this." He tricked it into the younger Jedi's mouth.
Obi-Wan swallowed. He sputtered a little in surprise, but gulped the last down. He laid against the stalwart chest, exhausted.
Then, he frowned, trailing his fingers up to Qui-Gon's face.
Qui-Gon let him feel the beard, the signature indent in his nose. It was Obi-Wan's way of opening his eyes, and he understood. "It's me, Obi-Wan."
The ailing man groaned, his hand dropping. Qui-Gon wiped a drop of the ruby medicine from his chin. He rubbed Obi-Wan's back, sensing, now that the shields were unknowingly diminished around his mind, the aches there. "Rest. I'll be here." Rest my Obi-Wan.
The Knight curled his fingers around the Master's, and a strange sort of happiness welled in Qui-Gon. Like a missing piece of his heart had been restored.
He didn't notice when his current apprentice returned with the cloths. He accepted them without seeing, without thanking him, and settled the soothingly wet material on Obi-Wan's forehead.
Anakin felt as if he had disappeared.
It was only them.
Qui-Gon only saw him.
The nineteen year old sighed, sinking into an armchair. I am the Chosen One. I am better. I am the Chosen One…
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin chased after the mechanical ball, a wizard little contraption he stuck together this morning, using scraps and parts from his growing collection. The metal toy's jumps were a little slow, but it still made for a fun time.
He leaped at it, and the ball rolled into the hallway. Anakin giggled as he sprinted to catch it. He touched his invention just as it bounced further down the sleek Temple corridor.
"Oh no you don't!" The boy laughed.
Suddenly, the ball was stopped mid-air, a mahogany hand restraining it through the Force.
Anakin sobered, grin vanished, and bowed. "M---Master Window."
Mace chuckled. "That's Master Windu. And what are you busying yourself with today, Padawan Skywalker?"
Anakin looked down at his feet. "Nothing. I just---lost my ball." He flinched, waiting for disapproval. He should probably be meditating, or training, or reading or…
"Well, it's probably a lost cause today. A Jedi is being moved from this level right now. Things are pretty much in disarray."
The child was left complacent from the warm expression given him. The tall, intimidating man wasn't even mad! "Oh. Well that's okay. I need to practice for my first kata session anyway." His eyes were lit with excitement. "Master says I'm already ready already!!!"
"That's a mouthful, young one. You better be on your way, then."
Anakin heaved a sigh. "Thanks. See you later!" He scampered back inside the apartment.
Mace's mouth straightened. He shook his head, clasping his hands together under his billowing cloak sleeves, and walked.
Anakin frowned. Whenever Qui-Gon was in the apartment, the rooms always felt different. Inviting and soft. Now it was colder, like the rest of the Temple. He saw the message recorder blinking. He half-skipped to answer it, still buoyed by his conversation with the Council member. Everyone would be so impressed when they found out he was doing katas this early into his apprenticeship! He pushed the button with an oil-stained finger.
"Padawan, I'm going to be out for awhile. There's some cheese in the fridge unit if you get hungry. Look over your lessons. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Anakin erased the message, disappointed. He didn't like being alone.
But, from the brighter side of things, there was time for him to explore.
He wandered into his Master' s room.
Qui-Gon Jinn was a very private man, and his possessions were few and rarely on open display.
There was a small painting hanging over his bed. A scene of some ocean, birds fluttering in the sky. It was pretty, but too girly. In the corner was a black 'T'.
A few holocubes sat on the bureau. Pictures of people Anakin didn't know.
Boring.
He looked around, standing with his hands on his hips. He saw the closet.
Anakin curled a lip. He ran over to it, and palmed it open.
Tunics, all sandy or white, lined the space. Below were a few brown boxes.
The boy sat cross-legged on the ground and opened the first time. "Ooooh. What's in here?" He pushed the lid off.
Another tunic lay folded on the top.
He grunted. "Stupid clothes." When he lifted it to set is aside, the tunic spread out, and he saw it was way too small for his giant of a Master. It looked small enough to fit Anakin. His forehead creased. "Weird."
The next item was a book. Written by hand was 'Memories'. He turned it to the first page, and a large holo of Master with his last apprentice was there. Anakin rolled his eyes, and, with maybe just a hint of irritation, threw it beside the tunic.
"Huh?" He picked up the final object. It was a stuffed animal with dark brown fur and round ears. A white paper tag was attached. He read it: "The Carnival wasn't any fun without you. Get better soon. Love, Obi-Wan."
Anakin frowned. Why did Qui-Gon still have this stuff? Wasn't Kenobi bad? Didn't he hurt his Master? Padawans weren't supposed to do things like that.
His golden hair gleamed in the dim lighting. He grabbed the animal and went into the kitchen, teeth clenched hard.
He shrugged into his cloak, and concealed the thing under his arm. I'll get rid of it for Master.
The youth headed down the hall again.
This time he was not interrupted, and walked past the room being emptied of that Jedi's possessions.
Anakin glanced at it.
He froze.
Knight Kenobi wasn't there. But all his things were. He remembered that armchair from the few days it had been in their apartment, before Kenobi moved.
A half-filled box was sitting near the door.
Anakin's eyes darted. No one was paying any attention.
He shoved the animal into the box, and slammed the top down.
There. He smiled in satisfaction.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's features twist in agony. The medicine had done nothing. The Master had been hopeful, so when an hour had passed, and there was no change whatsoever in the Knight's condition, he reasoned that it might require a bit longer for it to take effect, do to the extremity of this sickness.
But now, listening to the hoarse, confused whimpers, he knew a different, almost certainly unwanted action, would have to be taken.
He sighed and looked up at his Padawan, who was dozing in an armchair. "Anakin."
The boy opened his eyes slightly. "Wha?"
Annoyance bolted through him. "I expect you to be alert, my apprentice." His voice was cold steel.
Anakin sat up straight, cheeks red.
"I have to place him in a healing trance. I don't think he can aid me much, if it all, so I'll need to delve far into his mind. If I delay any longer, he could be in very serious trouble. It will be awhile before I come out of it, so inform the captain."
Anakin masked his disappointment and anger with an expressionless nod. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon studied him for the briefest of moments, something contemplative in his eyes, then turned back to Obi-Wan.
The younger Jedi was still in his arms, pressed against his chest. Ginger eyelashes were colorless, brushing pale skin. Chills had claimed the ill form, and Qui-Gon pulled the cloak he wore around the almost bare body. Obi-Wan's hot hand clung to the neckline of Qui-Gon's tunic.
Qui-Gon was under no illusions. Obi-Wan was not lucid, and didn't know what he was doing. He was only seeking, on an unconscious level , the comfort of a touch. The graying Jedi wasn't upset, he gladly offered the support this gravely sick Knight needed.
He propped his back against the headboard and secured the sweating bundle in his hold.
Qui-Gon shut his eyes. He gathered an even breath, and sunk into the Force.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Padme and Ileana stood outside the room. Ileana's arms were crossed tightly over her chest. The Senator noticed a trembling to the woman that concerned her. She placed a hand on Ileana's forearm.
"Will you be alright?" She asked softly. Compassion was pooled in her chestnut eyes.
Ileana pulled a lock of fiery hair behind her ear. She nodded, sniffing. "Yes." She whispered.
Padme wasn't convinced. "You don't have to come in, Ileana. I can interview him myself. I know this must upset you."
Ileana's eyes met the younger female's, and they left no room for argument. "No, Milady, I can handle this. If I am to be of help, you must not try to protect me." Her voice lowered, and that strong gaze was misted. "I know what my former love has become. I'm no longer living in the past. I know he must be stopped."
Padme studied this woman, who was as courageous as any saber-wielding Jedi. She smiled. "You are brave, Ileana. On behalf of Naboo, I thank you."
Ileana breathed out, a smile chasing after her sigh. "Thank you, Senator."
Doctor Mariss approached them. His face was grave. This patient was heartbreaking, and, unlike most other cases, he couldn't feel optimism. This man's slippery hold on sanity would not withstand the questioning. But if it prevented others from suffering his fate, Mariss would give his permission. Though it still wore heavily on his heart. "Senator Amidala, Miss Zimn."
"Good afternoon, Doctor Mariss." Padme replied, placing the political mask over an otherwise apprehensive face.
Ileana flashed a quick, forced smile.
"Mr. Vininon has had zero progress since his arrival here. He continues to speak of his capture, and his kidnappers. He suffers violent bouts during the night. It was necessary to station a nurse to remain at his bedside. Tranquilizers are administered every few hours. He has a viral infection in his lungs. Once that clears up, he may be admitted into a mental ward."
Ileana turned away then, her head falling into her hands. Her shoulders shook.
Padme's forehead creased. She wanted to comfort the woman, but there was still work to be done. "I would like to see him now if it is possible, Doctor."
Mariss glanced at Ileana before nodding. "Of course, Senator."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Sidious strolled along the railing, Maul beside him.
Their black cloaks swished, touching the stone floor. Hoods concealed their faces, and cast shadows across their skin. It was cold tonight.
"Are we going to Naboo, Master?" Maul asked in a huskily quiet tone.
Sidious smiled. "The boy needs time to develop his feelings for the Senator. And he will, that I have foreseen. She is a temptation too great for him to ignore. He is not strong enough." Contempt laced his words. "Once he is past infatuation, and loves her, he will leave the Jedi. Then, of course, there is the Knight."
Maul looked at the Coruscant scenery, attempting to disregard the admiration and longing he sensed in his Master. He was more than a sufficient apprentice. Kenobi was to be turned only to weaken the Jedi Order. Not because Maul was inferior.
"He would never willingly leave the Order. He is stubborn and impossibly loyal. That can be used to our advantage…in time."
Maul lowered his head so his Master would not see the burning hate in his bloody saffron eyes.
Sidious did.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The mind was not a tangible thing. One could not 'see' its functions, there weren't mechanical parts working to produce thought. The mind was an intricate web. Every wispy thread was connected. Each emotion embedded in the metaphorical fibers. It was the core of being. When everything else was ripped away, and one was left a bare urchin, the mind remained.
And the corridors of the mind, avenues one traveled in private journey, were rarely changed. For opinions could be malleable, but the true nature of a person was never re-sculpted.
So when Qui-Gon Jinn entered Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind, he was overall familiar with it. He could maneuver easily though the space, for his former apprentice was brimming with a pure and glowing white light.
The dusk of illness had set in, smudging otherwise clear pathways.
Obi-Wan was submerged in that murkiness. Qui-Gon could feel his Force presence beneath. It was not as simple as grasping onto that spirit and lifting it from the affliction.
First he had to release a steady stream of his own energy to the weakened spirit. Then wait for the strength to be absorbed.
This was far more difficult to accomplish when the receiver was far beyond the shores of consciousness.
Qui-Gon tenaciously sent powerful, albeit gentle, waves, to Obi-Wan.
And the Knight was partially stirred by what was wrapped so urgently around his mind.
Bits of his intimate thoughts were scattered, only sloppy shields could be erected by such a groggy, disoriented individual.
The Master was taken aback.
He witnessed the shards fall into his view. Pieces of yesterdays he had sworn to forget.
Had figured Obi-Wan had forgot.
Red and black tattooed face. Lightsabers buzzing in his ear. The smell of smoldering flesh.
It lasted a moment, then fell away, as another emotion was strewn across his periphery.
Darkness. A smothering black that consumed him, that was a twisted shred from Obi-Wan's soul.
Hoarse whispers all around: worthless, pain, end, want end…
Qui-Gon was engulfed by the maelstrom, could not be released from the tumult.
Then, as sudden as it began, it was stopped.
By Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, still muzzy and muddled, amidst his agony and weariness, pushed him roughly out of his thoughts.
Qui-Gon was thrown into awareness again, the ragged cries of a soul violated echoing in his mind.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin was snoring, his cheek balanced on a fist, when his Master gasped.
It was a shrill, haunting sound, that surely could not have been emitted from the man. Anakin was on his feet, rushing over to Qui-Gon. "Master?!"
Qui-Gon breathed in, his eyes fluttering open.
And there was a desolation in his somewhat confused gaze. "Anakin?"
The boy nodded, his hand going to the bearded face in a rare show of concerned affection. "Master, what happened? What did he do?"
Qui-Gon swallowed and shook his head. "No, it was nothing he did. I..I went too far. I felt….too much. And he shoved me out."
Obi-Wan moaned. New tears pressed at him. It was like being exposed in horrible completion, with nothing left to secret. And his head was throbbing. He did not need to reach for the face of who held him, who continued to cradle his sweaty, heated form. He knew who had invaded him.
He grappled for the energy to sit up. Moisture began to course down his cheeks, dripping from his round jaw line and forming a sheen on his neck. The fever was spiking.
"Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to---" Qui-Gon said desperately. "Just lay back down---"
"N--No." Obi-Wan rasped, and went on struggling to liberate himself.
As much as it hurt him, Qui-Gon could not allow it. He restrained the Knight with mild effort, securing his hands around Obi-Wan's wrists and pulling him back.
"No!" The lightheaded man resisted. His mind, freshly wounded by the deepest intrusion he had ever experienced, screamed.
"Anakin, hold him down."
Obi-Wan hit the mattress. Hands pinned his shoulders with bruising, mostly unnecessary, force. He was dizzy, and the black surrounding him offered no comfort. He grunted, kicking with every ounce of his might.
A palm was pressed on his forehead.
When the sleep suggestion came, he fought.
And lost.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon sponged off the hot face, wiping away the stain of aging tears. Obi-Wan was settled among thick, soft pillows. A thin sheet was tucked around his chest. The material clung to his perspiring body.
His silken hair was so damp it fit to his head like a cap. Qui-Gon moved to stroke it back into the trademark spikes, but froze midway.
Worthless, pain, end, want end…
The Master's heart was impaled by the words that had spilled from his ex-Padawan's essence. Words that affirmed what Qui-Gon suspected from the moment he had walked into the Council Chamber. He had seen the defeated slope of shoulders, the slightly quaking lips…eyes that were tragic and still brilliantly cerulean, holding a depressive fog in the once clear, certain orbs.
He had stood there, entranced by this ashen stranger who resembled the friend he once knew.
He knew Obi-Wan Kenobi no longer, for a Jedi did not consider ending his own life, or wallow in self-pity.
Qui-Gon uttered a tiny cry. His head fell to the pillow beside Obi-Wan's. Bitter dampness spread from tears he allowed to fall without intervention. This was his Obi-Wan!
He turned red-threaded eyes to the sleeping man. He saw the same gold-tinted skin and youthful features. The meager light caressed his face, as it always did. Even in the dankest of dungeons, with darkness all-encompassing, the light found him, and embraced him in almost liquid illumination.
This was the Knight he used to spy napping on the couch, with his arms and legs stretched out, and would wake by tickling his stomach, whose eyes would snap open, dancing in delight…
Until Qui-Gon had chased the notions of a fickle Force, and deserted that innocent, loving spirit…
The man straightened. He inhaled, closing his eyes. It is my fault. He felt for Obi-Wan's hand, capturing it between his fingers. And I will make it right.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~