~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Four: The Lonely People
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
-The Beatles
Anakin sunk to the ground, back against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees.
The room was dark. The pair of beds were neatly made. One of them would not be rustled tonight.
Qui-Gon would go on in his foolish delirium, treating Kenobi like a sick infant, while his capable apprentice was ignored. He would coddle him and cling to a distant, dead bond.
A brief flutter of pain passed through Anakin's chest. For a major portion of his time at the Jedi Temple, Qui-Gon cared deeply for him, and it showed. He devoted every waking moment to Anakin, showering affection and approval upon him. Anakin had soaked up the warmth, settled into the normalcy of his new life, a life ripe with love and potential.
Qui-Gon still loved him, Anakin knew, despite the growing evidence of waning fondness. There were soft smiles and pats on the shoulder.
But there were also uncertain, secret looks, that Anakin wasn't meant to see. Nights when the air was thick with liquor, and the Padawan was marooned in his room to wait out another of Qui-Gon's episodes.
It was Kenobi's fault. Completely and utterly. Tonight was just further proof.
Anakin's fingers curled into fists, he studied them, could feel the power radiating below the surface. The power was increasing as each day wore on. It pulsed through him, a hot, moving energy. Sometimes he felt as if he were going to explode.
Especially when Obi-Wan Kenobi was near.
Skywalker had spent many hours considering the problem of the Knight, why his Master couldn't just let go. Maybe it was the fact that Yoda cut the braid, instead of Qui-Gon. That was an occasion meant to seal the apprenticeship. It was closure.
Of course!!! It all makes sense! Master Qui-Gon couldn't totally move on because he had not been the one to shear the plaited and beaded strands that signified a Padawan. So, in his mind, perhaps he continued to think of Kenobi as a Padawan.
There wasn't a clear cut solution to that, unfortunately. The braid was gone now.
Anakin blew out a breath, trudging to his bed, and collapsing on the mattress.
He dreamt of Padme.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Padme swallowed, a hand going to her throat as she walked into the tiny room. Her auburn hair hung straight and without any of her usual stylish flair. She wore a simple black lace dress with billowing sheer sleeves. Her shoes were flat, and made quiet, padding sounds against the tile floor.
The Senator stood by the door, lingering there. She looked at the man, Rhell Vininon, on the bed.
From the weak artificial light provided by strips mounted to the ceiling, his skin looked waxy. His eyes were blue, but the color was washed out, leaving them a pale gray. His lips were cracked.
Padme noticed the chiseled jaw line and dark brow.
He had once been a strong and handsome man.
She took a step.
His arms and legs were muscular, yet they too were pallid. Various cords were attached to the man. His breathing sounded horribly congested. Every few moments, he would thrash and moan, then settle again.
Padme licked her lips. "Mr. Vininon?"
Rhell's nose twitched. He groaned.
The young woman debated a retreat. He was resting, and surely an interruption to be questioned wouldn't be helpful to this poor, ailing man. She began to back away.
"I know you."
A tiny rasping voice stopped her. A flicker of frightened hope was captured in her dark eyes. "Mr. Vininon?"
The man coughed, his lungs wracked with violent hacks. "Yes…You…I heard your name…and saw…picture. Yes!" His eyes widened and he smiled. "Yes! You were there…"
Her eyebrow curled.
"Noo…No. Not there. Your picture…that's what was…was there."
His eyes were watery, but seemed steady to the Senator. She walked to his side, a kind expression on her face, framed by the yellow light. "Where, Mr. Vininon?"
He looked up at her. Sweat rolled down his forehead. "The shadow place. Where the clamping, the metal clamping machine, was."
Padme nodded, pulling up a chair.
"They wanted to put it on my head…right here." He pressed his fingers to his temples, then flinched. "Yess… They wanted to…They showed me your picture…"
Her stomach tensed. She clasped her hands together. "Yes?"
He pointed to her. "They wanted me to…And then they wanted to clamp my head…I got away…"
She laid her hand on his arm. "How did you get away, Mr. Vininon?"
He shook his head. "I got away. I heard them before. I heard them, I heard him, say they wanted to kill you."
Padme's hand shot over her mouth. "What?" She whispered.
Rhell nodded. "You were getting close, they said. And I wouldn't. I wasn't suppose to hear. But I did. And I knew what…was going to…to…to happen…And I wouldn't….I…." The man dissolved into tears.
Padme allowed her own to flow heedlessly down her cheeks. She gently embraced them man. "Thank you." She murmured into his shoulder.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Mejant rubbed Obi-Wan's arm, sitting beside him on the bed. Bant opened another box while pushing a light pink strand of hair behind her ear.
Their faces were somber. Mejant looked at him openly. Her full lips quivered.
He was still, save for the deep, shuddering breaths.
Bant and Mejant exchanged compassionate, worried glances. Obi-Wan's lifelong friend turned back and pulled something from the container.
"Hm." She half-smiled, studying the stuffed animal.
Mejant scrunched up her nose and giggled silently.
Obi-Wan lifted his head slightly. The palest shadow of amusement donned on him. "What? I still know when you're laughing, Mejant. What's so funny? That better not be my underpants you're holding, Bant."
"I wouldn't touch those things with a twenty-foot pole."
Mejant snorted, then covered her nose with a hand in embarrassment.
Obi-Wan smiled. "I love it when you do that."
She blushed furiously.
Bant grinned. She tossed the furry toy to her.
Mejant tickled it against Obi-Wan's cheek.
He frowned and pulled the animal into his hands. He felt it quickly. "Bant…Where did you get this?"
"One of the boxes. Why?"
Mejant touched his shoulder.
Obi-Wan pressed the stuffed creature to his nose and inhaled. "Oh." He whispered so softly Mejant had to lean in closer to hear him.
"What, Obi?" Bant stood.
He ran his fingers along the soft body, stopping at the attached tag. "Nothing."
Mejant stroked his knee. "What is it?"
He shook his head. Tears threatened to sting his eyes. The thing was rich with the smell of…his Master. With the scent of that day, walking into the apartment, his only prize from the fair tucked under his arm. His happy mood shattered at the sight of Qui-Gon, feverish and suffering…….
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Mejant laughed, arm hooked to Obi-Wan's. Their cheeks were flushed and their noses shone red. His cloak was draped across her small shoulders. The blustery day did nothing to ruin the festivities of the Coruscant fair. As Jedi, they had only gone a handful of times, always accompanied by a Master chaperone. Today, the two were allowed to go alone, trusted fully by the teachers.
Obi-Wan was a tad concerned. His Master had intended to come along, but this morning he was feeling a little under the weather. The seventeen year old, in his everlasting sweetness and selflessness, offered to stay behind. Qui-Gon smiled gently at him before ushering him out the door.
He had a wonderful time. Mejant was too nervous to ride the giant roller coasters, with the huge loops, twists and turns. After a tray of cheese-drenched grain chips, Obi-Wan didn't mind staying on the ground. They munched on light, sticky, artificially colored candy. A patch of the stuff stuck to her lip, which the male Jedi was more than happy to lick off for her.
Mejant and Obi-Wan played every game they could, tossing rings and shooting water blasters. Mejant won a cheap, but utterly charming, purple necklace she immediately clasped around her neck. Obi-Wan billowed his lip, pretending to be disappointed he had yet to be rewarded anything. Finally, after five rounds of throwing balls in a high, small hoop, the runner of the game gave him a stuffed Bantha out of pity. Mejant laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
Now, in the dim Temple hallway, she yawned and kissed his cheek.
Obi-Wan smiled, smoothing ebony hair before keying the entrance code. "See you tomorrow. That was fun."
She grinned. "Night, Obi."
He walked into the apartment. Immediately he sensed the morose atmosphere. His heart clenched up. "Master?" The rooms were darkened. Obi-Wan moved down the hallway. "Master?"
Qui-Gon's door was opened. The Padawan peeked his head in.
Jinn was laying in bed. Waves of pain ran thick in the air.
Obi-Wan jogged to his side. He grasped the coarse, hot hand in his. "Master? Are you alright?"
Qui-Gon slowly opened his eyes to red-stained slits. He coughed hard, then smiled up at his apprentice. "How was your night, Obi-Wan?"
His voice was raw. Obi-Wan winced. "Fine, Master." He sat beside Qui-Gon and stroked his forehead. "How are you?"
"Okay. I missed you."
Obi-Wan smiled. "I missed you too." He yanked the animal from behind his back, sitting it on Qui-Gon's stomach. "I got this for you."
Qui-Gon snorted, while hacking into his fist. Then he studied the little Bantha, an amused twinkle in his weary eyes. "You got this for me?"
Obi-Wan nodded and stroked the sweaty hair plastered to his Master's face back.
Qui-Gon pulled him into his arms, kissing the space between his brows. "Thank you, my Padawan. I will treasure it always."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Bant sat next to him. "Obi, what's the matter? It's just a toy."
Obi-Wan brought it to his chest. "Yeah, I know…It's just a toy."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon watched a bead of moisture, capturing every color of the room in its watery, round surface, as it trailed down Obi-Wan's forehead, leaving a gleaming trail on sun bathed skin. It was a different sweat. It was the rain of the body, drenching the Knight in relief of the fever.
For each tiny droplet of perspiration, Obi-Wan was growing stronger. He would be well.
The Master released a breath he had been mostly unaware of holding between his teeth. His neck ached from the slumped posture he had adopted over the last hour.
Maybe there was a slim, outside chance, that he was growing too old to watch over an ailing youth. Perhaps he had passed the time when he could nurse another throughout the night.
I would still stay at my Padawan's side, even if I was hobbling around on a cane with only three teeth.
He swallowed, sitting upright. He looked at Obi-Wan, gleaming in a sickly, but oddly pleasant, luminescence. Had he that easily thought of this grown man, who now displayed short stubble on his round jaw, as his apprentice?
An image of Anakin rose in his head. A wide-eyed, unfailingly optimistic, child scampering along the sand dunes, a hot wind ruffling his golden hair. He had cared for the boy instantly. Somewhere in his hidden truths, he had loved him from the moment Obi-Wan announced the unusually high medi-chlorian count.
Anakin was his Padawan. For years, now.
Another face floated into his mental periphery. A different child, a bit older, but just as beautiful and innocent, fixing determined eyes on Qui-Gon. Pressing his own body to the wall on the gloomy world of Bandomeer, ready to sacrifice everything. The Force joining them in what could only be described as destined harmony…The feeling of completion…
Then, the last visage painted over his eyelids. Shmi. Her face hardened by coarse, blistering elements. Her hands made rough by endless labor. One small wish from her…Save him. The plea was whispered into his consciousness. A promise. His word was unbreakable. It was the final mission of his heart.
He looked at Obi-Wan again.
And the guilt welled in him again.
So many strings, tied to his spirit, tugging in countless directions.
Which could he cut, to keep from being strangled?
For Anakin was his protégé now, and despite his allegiances to former companions, he had to be Qui-Gon's priority. Yet, didn't Obi-Wan deserve his attention, shouldn't he receive the care he sorely needed?
The yawning cave of darkness he discovered in the Knight's mind was not to be ignored. The gnawing loneliness was not what should reside in such a virtuous spirit. There was light smothered in that black space. Qui-Gon was certain he could lead Obi-Wan to it, if allowed to enter again.
But after his violent reaction, the older Jedi was wary. He had lost further trust. He needed to regain it before he could begin to patch their relationship.
These were the friends dearest to him.
He could, would, help them both.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The infuriation rose in him like a burning, unstoppable squall. All that damn planning, and a half-conscious prisoner is able to escape.
Berrel shoved his hand against his chin, biting down hard on his lip until a thin stream of blood stained the metallic, orange undertone fingers.
Rhell Vininon had his memory. Worse, he knew of their agenda. Vininon was surely blabbing to everyone about the task he was to be assigned: to kill that meddling Senator. She was making more problems then Berrel could deal with. If news spread, business would slow.
He needed that money if he wanted to keep Ileana happy. She wouldn't stay with him if he was another bum in stained rags. Or, skies forbid, a convicted criminal.
Berrel wiped the dribble of maroon from his chin and strode into the musty, dark room.
"You."
A man turned, his eyes glazed and utterly confused. "Wha? Me?"
"Yeah. You." He crossed his arms and grinned. "How would you like to be famous?"
The man shrugged. His memory was erased a few days before, and the fogginess was still hanging over him. "How would I be famous? Why?"
Berrel squeezed his shoulder. "To be famous you have to do something very important, right?"
"Uh huh."
"I'm asking you to do something very important. Will you do it?"
The man nodded fervently.
Berrel chuckled. "Good. Just stay here. I have to find a picture."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Padme stepped outside again. Her tears dried to stillness in her eyes, and the deep orbs glimmered, revealing a newfound melancholy she would never be able to explain.
Especially to Ileana Zimn.
It was not so much the discovery that her life was in danger. That had happened, on occasion. Bodyguards were never far away. In this endeavor, she requested they wait outside.
Today she had glimpsed a soul crumbling, felt the clammy hands of one slowly dying. Living in a mental institution would not be living at all, she realized. And Rhell Vininon might have known that. On a level, he was sane as he strove to deliver a last coherent warning. He was a good man.
Padme closed her eyes and shook her head.
Ileana, cold to the bone, looked up, seeing the Senator. She headed for the younger woman. "Milady."
Padme breathed in; she forced herself to forget for the time being. "Ileana."
"Are you alright."
The Senator smiled. "Of course I am, Ileana. It was a simple interview. I gathered some vital information." Her gaze shifted slightly beyond her. "And soon enough, we will free those men."
"I trust that you will, Milady. When are the Jedi arriving?"
Padme's stomach fluttered. Her heart lightened. "Oh, that had slipped my mind…A few hours. We should get going."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan's head was pounding. The pain had dulled, leaving only a tickle in his throat and a distant soreness in his limbs. He was feeling a great deal better.
Except his head. There was a raw ache in his mind, rippling to every thought. Force, it hurts to THINK.
He felt something smooth and icy and, from the distinct taste, almost certainly metal, placed gently under his tongue. He coughed. " Whush goin on?
His lips were closed, and he struggled. The exertion thundered in his head.
"Settle down, Obi-Wan. Why are you always ready to fight?"
Obi-Wan sunk down with a huff. The thermometer was removed. His throat was parched, and his words were hardly discernable. "Why are you still here?"
Instead of a verbal reply, Qui-Gon pressed a plastic cup against his mouth. Obi-Wan needed to grasp onto every tendril of pride possible. But right now, he needed a drink more.
He gulped the Triali leaf tea, and refreshing coolness ran through his drained body. He sucked up the last speck, and his lips were wet as he reclined once more.
"Why are you still here?"
Qui-Gon smirked. He had to admire that tenacious manner. "You're still ill."
"I'm NOT your concern. I am perfectly capable---"
"Stop it. Before you can rattle off an indignant speech of your equal abilities, let me tell you that your temperature was severe. You can die from such heat. And you were unconscious. It's silly to think you could have done anything in your condition."
"You went too far."
Qui-Gon felt a spike of shame. "There wasn't any strong medicine. Not a single antibiotic--"
"I would rather die a thousand deaths than have anyone invade me so…deeply." His voice was harsh, and Qui-Gon heard the underlying humiliation. Flush spotted soft cheeks. "You had NO right. None."
"I apologize. What happened was---not supposed to happen."
"No, it wasn't."
Qui-Gon shook his head. "I didn't want to see what I saw, Obi-Wan. But I did. I can't just disregard it ---"
"YES you will." His teeth grit. His fingers twisted in the sheets.
Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan's hands. "Obi-Wan, what I saw---"
"You don't understand…what you saw." He whispered. "You don't. So get out."
"Obi----"
"I am a Knight, Master Jinn. How many times must I remind you of it before you realize you can't control me anymore?
"Now…GO." He ground out slowly.
Qui-Gon stood. "I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. I don't care if it embarrasses you. I saw what you've been concealing---"
Obi-Wan rolled onto his stomach and folded the pillow over his ears. I can't hear this I can't take this Not this He doesn't know He can't know
Qui-Gon looked down at the man who had once been his apprentice, now huddled in the bed, shaking. He crouched next to him, and draped a strong arm over Obi-Wan's shoulders.
"You don't have to hide from me." He stressed, breath warming the younger man's ear. "You're not alone."
But the statement, spoken in such confidence, was a lie. In the hollow pit of his soul, he was alone. Forever in the darkness. He would travel in the shadows, leeching light from his friends, until he was allowed to stop. Oh, how he wanted to stop. "Go away."
"It doesn't need to be this way."
Obi-Wan battled the onslaught of tears. He buried his head farther. "Just…Just…shut up."
"Obi-Wan, remember how it used to be between us. Try to think of---"
"I leave the past where it belongs." Moisture seeped into the sheets from his sightless eyes. His voice was wobbly. "Now…go!"
"I can't."
Obi-Wan sat up. His breaths were fast and ragged. "You came into my mind without invitation, and stole the last thing I had… Privacy. Now---"
"I can help you."
Obi-Wan smiled, but it was a sarcastic expression. Rivers rolled down his face. "You want me to remember the past, Master Jinn? How about you recall something yourself? What did I tell you in the hospital, all those years ago?"
Qui-Gon sealed his eyes. He could hardly bare to speak of it. "You said…I was dead to you."
"Yes. So all you are is a ghost that haunts me. Ghosts aren't real, though, are they? I don't believe in them…"
Qui-Gon braced his shoulders. "Stop this! Stop and think of what you are doing to yourself! Stop shutting everything out!"
Obi-Wan pried himself out of the grip. "Leave me alone!" And , before he was fully aware of what he was doing, punched Qui-Gon squarely in the face.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Anakin's head sprang up. The pain and surprise flooded his mental connection with Qui-Gon. In a Force-enhanced flash, he was out the door and down the hall.
Qui-Gon was walking through Kenobi's door into the corridor, a hand pressed over his nose.
Anakin's brow twisted. He touched his mentor's arm. "Master? What's wrong?"
The intelligence was present in midnight blue eyes, but their glassy gleam concerned Anakin. "Master?"
Qui-Gon looked at him then, and his hand fell away. "Anakin, can you get me a washcloth?"
Anakin gasped, wide eyed. Blood was dripping from Qui-Gon's nose, where a massive, purplish bruise was forming. "Master!"
Qui-Gon began toward their shared quarters. "I…know. It probably looks terrible."
His comments sounded dazed and detached. Anakin jogged up beside him. "Master, what happened?!"
The elder man fingered the swollen nose gingerly, and inhaled sharply at the sting. "I'm going to sit down a moment before we land."
Anakin guided him to a chair. "Okay." He replied softly. "I'll get you a washcloth."
"Thank you, Padawan."
A warmth bloomed in Skywalker's heart.
He hastened into the hallway to retrieve some gauze and bacta spread as well, but stopped at Kenobi's door.
His eyes narrowed. Him. It was him. He hurt my Master…again.
Revenge would be so easy, he mused. Just storm into the room and give that Sith spawn what was coming to him.
The temptation seemed to tremble at Anakin's fingertips, but he breathed in, pushing the violent thoughts back. I have to help Qui-Gon. He needs me.
The knowledge pleased him. He smiled slightly as he collected the supplies.
Master needs me.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan scrambled up from the bed. He felt a hot wetness on his throbbing hand. I hit him . At first, he was satisfied. The barest part of him wished harm to the man that had done---so much. He craved the vengeance for a life, a future burning bright, abruptly extinguished. The agony of existence needled him. He wanted someone else to experience the pain.
The person who caused it.
No. Obi-Wan pressed his hands to his cheeks. No. It was the Sith. Red and black. Qui-Gon didn't.
But, during those endless nights, solitary and wrapped in a dark freeze, he allowed the thoughts to be entertained. He left. He knew I couldn't handle it.
NO. The Knight negated again, but the idea was reigning strongly in his mind now. Mejant. I'll talk to Mejant. She'll tell me what's right.
Commlinks were usually located beside doors. Obi-Wan stepped carefully toward where he remembered entering, arms stretched out.
He felt the buttons, and smiled. Good. Mejant will help. Shakily, he punched in her number.
"Hello?"
Obi-Wan nearly wept. "Mejant. Oh…It's so good to hear your voice."
"Awwww…. You old softie."
"Mejant."
Her tone was urgent when she sensed her love's distress. "What?"
"I…I hit him."
"What? Hit who?"
The blood on his skin was suddenly very present in his mind. "Qui-Gon."
"Oh." She silently registered the information.
"I had to talk to you. I love you and I know you can think of something."
"Think of something? Think of what?"
"What I should do! Think of what I should do, Mejant."
Mejant sighed. "I can't tell you what to do, Obi. I love you too, but this is your mission. The decisions need to be yours."
Tears filmed his dead eyes. "I can't. I just want…to be…" He trailed off, afraid to speak what was innermost in his heart.
Mejant was steady. "What do you want to be?"
Silence.
"Obi?"
A shuddering breath. "I better go. I love you."
The connection was cut. Mejant stood in her quarters, apprehension roiling in her stomach. I love you Obi-Wan.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon kept the rough handkerchief against his wounded nose to staunch the bleeding. The pain was watering his eyes.
Which was a perfect excuse for the tears already formed there.
It was a good blow, powerful without exerting too much energy. He had never experienced firsthand the sheer physical strength of Obi-Wan. Never felt the hand he used to hold after a harrowing nightmare smash into his face.
He didn't mean it.
He was upset and weary, recovering from serious illness. Perhaps Qui-Gon had been too persistent, didn't know when to let things be.
How could I overlook what I saw? The darkness is swallowing him.
The very notion sent a shiver through his body. Obi-Wan was the epitome of purity, goodness flowed in him, compassion and duty guided his every action. Despite their turbulent history, Qui-Gon held to that belief.
It was a great evil, a shameful injustice, that Obi-Wan should be lost in the black , turned away from the warming beacon of the Force.
He didn't mean it.
They had been in the midst of arguments before, and they never ended in violence. Qui-Gon didn't sense that raw, vicious reaction boiling within him. Obi-Wan had not been passive. A calm dignity prevented him from bursting out that way. It was the angle of his personality that seemed set in stone.
Today, that stone had crumbled.
He didn't mean it.
He wasn't thinking.
After the initial shock of the punch, Qui-Gon's instant desire was to grab the younger Jedi by his shoulders and shake the desolation, something that used to be foreign to that gentle, vivacious spirit, out, until the true Obi-Wan was returned.
His nose throbbed more intensely.
A gray thought swept across his mind, like a sudden, dusty wind, scattering his self-assurances as if they were crushed leaves.
What if this is how he will be? What if I cannot undo what has been done?
What if he's just…lost?
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
"They will arrive on Naboo today."
Maul nodded, lifting his gaze to his cloaked Master. "Yes."
Sidious smirked. "It has begun already. I can sense---very faintly---the boy's anger. The irritation. And a budding lust. The Senator will distract him.
"But the Knight will destroy him. "
Maul frowned. "You have foreseen it, my Master?"
"Not quite. It is only a base premonition. I am not certain how it will occur." He croaked. He tapped his pale, blue veined fingers against each other. "And the Knight will not destroy his life. Only his Jedi career. The boy hates the Knight, more than anyone else in the Universe." A sour chuckle followed.
It was strange, Maul mused, that a Jedi and a Sith could have something in common.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan turned the knob, sucking in breaths as his heart hammered. The moment replayed in his mind. His fist colliding with Qui-Gon. The quick burst of satisfaction.
It was a pleasure born of darkness, he knew, and once his actions had settled in his mind, he was disgusted by them. He had lashed out. Not in hate, or mindless rage. In anger.
A Jedi does not know anger.
He splashed the cool water on his heated face. Soothing liquid streamed down his skin, a few drops nestled in his hair.
He leaned against the sink with his hands gripping the sides as he waited for his temperature to lessen. His belly gurgled uneasily.
How could I have done that? I was irritated with him. But I would never---
The bile rushed to his throat, and he felt feverishly for the toilet, mouth clamped tightly shut.
He touched onto the cold surface.
And gave into the sickness.
He wretched roughly, the very intensity of the heaves stripping his throat of the brief, numb relief.
"Oh damn." He managed to choke out in a raking voice.
"You are dead to me."
"I can help you."
"…ghost that haunts me.."
His stomach lurched again.
"I take you as my Padawan learner."
"I love you, Master."
"I take Anakin as my Padawan learner."
Red and black. Pain.
"You ARE different, Obi-Wan."
And again.
Until his body was emptied, until there was nothing left to be expelled, and he rested his sweaty cheek against the edge, panting.
The ship rumbled beneath him. Footsteps in the distance. A knock at the door.
"Force." He wiped his damp brow. We've landed.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
"Here you go, Master."
Qui-Gon accepted the cloth, and dabbed it on his nose, quelling a hiss.
Anakin paused, patting his mentor's shoulder before turning to gather his pack.
The aging Jedi smiled. For all the hushed words floating around the Temple, namely the Council Chamber, of Anakin Sywalker being dangerous, here the boy was, offering a comforting gesture to a foolish old man.
Anakin could barely handle the excitement and joy barreling through him. Already he could feel the gentler atmosphere of Naboo. He glimpsed the vast, grassy fields and violet tinted mountains from the small window. He stood there, entranced by the breathtaking view.
Qui-Gon's happy expression faded. In a few minutes, Anakin would be reunited with Padme Amidala. He was a growing youth, and his infatuation with her would be increased now. They were both older and, Qui-Gon noted, more independent.
The Master hoped to avoid the always awkward reminder to his Padawan of the Jedi code. Such talks unfailingly had a blushing effect on Obi-Wan----
He steered from the memory.
He stood and cleared his throat. Anakin continued to gaze out into the distance.
Qui-Gon sighed. Suddenly his back and knees ached. I'm getting too old for this. "Anakin." He said loudly, with a small hint of premature reprove.
Anakin turned. He attempted to appear regretful, but his dimly blue eyes twinkled. "Yes, Master."
They began walking.
"It is a beautiful world, isn't it?" Qui-Gon asked.
Anakin grinned. "Yes, beautiful."
The response stirred something in the Force. Qui-Gon refused to acknowledge it as a warning.
The other door slid open, and Obi-Wan emerged, somewhat slowly.
His face was pallid, though a bit of normal color had returned. He was fully dressed, hair combed (absently by a hand, Qui-Gon wagered) and carrying a bag. Small bristles stood out on the Knight's chin and cheeks. Even an individual of an abnormally low medi-chlorian count could sense the deep exhaustion rolling of the form.
Qui-Gon caught a quick sneer pass over Anakin's face. He couldn't blame the boy. The Master's nose was a mess, and it was Obi-Wan's doing. Most apprentices were fiercely protective of their teachers. He decided to ignore it. For now. "Knight Kenobi."
Obi-Wan swallowed, resisting the urge to nervously finger the strap of his tote. "M-Master Jinn."
Qui-Gon's heart ached at the sore sound. He hesitated, not wanting to leave things this unresolved. A cloud so murky could not be hovering above him during the entire mission. Anakin started moving forward again.
Once he was a good twenty feet ahead, Jinn stepped beside Kenobi, and squeezed his hand. "I still mean what I said." He informed him quietly. "I'll still help you."
Conflict flashed in the handsome features, then settled into blandness. "You can't." He shook his head, and walked away.
Frustration grasped Qui-Gon tautly, only to be overwhelmed by determination. But I will.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Padme shaded her eyes with a hand. Her flowing black gown was rippled by the wind. Auburn hair was swept into a braided bun, but free strands were blown into her face.
The hatch popped open.
Her stomach flip-flopped. Anakin Skywalker came down the metal ramp, his eyes instantly riveted to her.
She smiled.
Anakin grinned wildly, trotting up to her. "Padme."
She touched his forearm. "Ani! You look so much older!"
He glanced at her hand, still on him. "So do you. No, not that you look old, just…" He sputtered, cheeks bright red.
To his relief, and delight, Padme laughed lightly. "It's been too long. I have thought of you often, the little boy who saved my world…Only you're not so little anymore." Her eyes flicked over his tall, muscular body.
If possible, Anakin smiled wider. "I've thought of you every day, Padme. "
She looked up at him then, shocked and flattered.
Obi-Wan descended the ramp, followed closely by Qui-Gon.
Her focus turned at once to the blinded Jedi. She walked briskly to him, and grasped his hands. "Knight Kenobi."
He bowed. "It is good to be in your presence again, Milady."
Her smile was twisted to a frown. She could see the sheen of sweat on his skin, gleaming against the sunlight. Before she could inquire, Qui-Gon caught her attention by shaking his head.
Padme looked at the Knight once more, understanding. "And Master Jinn. It's so wonderful to see---to meet with you again."
He too, bent in respect. "And you, Milady."
Throughout the reunion, Anakin's eyes were glued to the radiant Senator. His fingers curled and uncurled anxiously.
He studied her shoulders, slightly tan, glowing warmly in the afternoon brilliance. A great, powerful contentment swelled in him. My Padme.
The Captain ran up to them. "Hey! You forgot this!"
Siron 7 was trailing after him, bleeping.
Obi-Wan stifled his groan.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The woman and her Jedi companions piled into the stretch, luxury cloud car.
Padme noticed that Anakin slipped in front of Obi-Wan, so that he was seated beside her. She folded her hands in her lap.
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were shoulder to shoulder. The droid was placed on the floor, still leaving ample foot room.
The vehicle zoomed into the air.
"Have there been any new developments in the case, Senator?" The Master asked.
Padme leaned forward to address him. "One of the victims, Rhell Vininon, escaped. He was found by locals, and taken to the hospital." She delayed, continually disturbed by the kind man's terrible condition. "He, um, was treated for a viral infection. He displayed numerous signs of mental instability. I spoke with him privately, and he told me that before he escaped, the men were planning on training him to…kill me."
Anakin allowed the hate and wrath to sweep in him. "What?!"
Padme could not help but feel complimented by the concern. "Yes. He said he couldn't harm me, and he somehow got away from his captors."
Qui-Gon nodded, registering the events. "Is he able to undergo further interviewing?"
"He is still ill. It was horrible to watch him suffer, just to pump information out of him. I would not want him to be subjected to it again."
Anakin marveled at her compassion.
Obi-Wan rubbed his face. He was light-headed again, and it was difficult to secure his hazy focus to the discussion. I can't sit here like an idiot and say nothing! "Did Mr. Vininon mention anything concerning the layout of the place? Any elevators or something unique?"
"No. He was discovered close to his home, passed out. I believe he was trying to reach his home, and could have traveled awhile before collapsing. He was drenched in sweat. The area surrounding the location has been searched." She blew out a grim breath. "Nothing has been found."
Her leg is touching mine. Anakin gazed at her. I had forgotten just how wonderful and intelligent she is.
"Have you tightened your security since Mr.Vininon revealed the plot to kill you, Senator?" Obi-Wan furthered the conversation.
"A decoy, Corde, has been placed in my office, in case an attack is scheduled there." Her eyes fell. "I worry for her safety. Many have endangered themselves for me."
"I am sure they are well-prepared for any incidents, Milady. Everyone has their duties."
Something in the tone of his voice captured both Padme and Qui-Gon's attention.
The Master knew what Obi-Wan was truly speaking of. It was disturbing to think the Knight felt his obligations to the Order were such a weighty burden. He wanted to give his ex-Padawan some sign of support, but was aware it would be shrugged off.
Padme sat back. Her forehead was creased.
Anakin was livid at the ensuing silence. Is this the time for everyone to mourn Kenobi? Please, not you too, Padme.
The cloud car headed for Ileana Zimn's residence.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Adi Gallia glanced at Mace Windu, who had his smooth, dark head lowered.
Her vibrant eyes flickered with concern. "Mace?"
He looked up at her. "Yes?" Shadow was pooled in the creases of his face.
Olive skin was softened by the Chamber's gentle light. "Mace, he'll be alright. He needs this."
"How do you know I was thinking about him?" A weak defense gleamed in his intelligent countenance.
"Because," She responded calmly, voice mild and always rational, "we all are."
Mace stared at her a moment, then sighed, shifting in his seat. "This should not be the way. I can't forgive what Qui-Gon did to him."
She smiled, saddened but understanding. "It is not for you to forgive."
He pressed his fist to his mouth. "We should have tossed Qui-Gon out on his rogue a---"
"Mace." Adi interjected, raising a slim hand. "You know as well as I do that Qui-Gon Jinn follows the beat of a drum far different than ours. Where that sound takes him is out of his control. He is a true Jedi."
"You are a Jedi too, Adi. And you never would have abandoned your apprentice the way he did. Hastily, without offering a scintilla of an explanation."
"He loves Obi-Wan."
Mace paused in contemplation. When he spoke again, he sounded desperately weathered. "Yes."
"And Obi-Wan loves him."
"Yes. Their connection was woven in the Force long ago. I don't doubt that. But where does Padawan Skywalker fit into this? I worry about that boy."
She frowned. "What do you sense, Mace?"
He rested his forehead on his folded hands. "That Naboo is a planet that will curse them all. Perhaps Yoda was correct."
"What??"
Mace gazed out the window. "Things are changing, my friend. Even now."
Adi studied him. "For Obi-Wan?"
He locked eyes with her. "For everyone."
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
While Anakin chatted excitedly to Padme about every topic imaginable, Obi-Wan carefully reclined his neck, resting his head on the velour seat. The ache was moderate enough for him to initiate a successful healing trance, but unless he was going to have a good three hours free to lay flat on his back, it didn't matter.
He remained in a slightly slumped position, and it didn't bother him quite so much.
Qui-Gon studied him, disconcerted by his waxen pallor. Without potent medication, he would not improve. The Master resolved to ask Senator Amidala in private if a strong remedy could be ordered.
Black stained the skin beneath those dead eyes.
Qui-Gon's chest hurt sharply.
He didn't know how much longer he could bear to watch his former apprentice suffer.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The cloud car slowed to a smooth stop, in a clean and bright neighborhood. The homes were all distinct, save a few architectural similarities. The yards were lush and grassy.
Ileana's door was bordered by a vine of healthy, flourishing garnet flowers.
Padme admired them from the vehicle's window. The two women shared a love for decorating. "Here were are. This is the residence of the woman who has been the greatest help to our case."
Anakin nodded, gaze still sewn to her.
Qui-Gon shot his apprentice a disapproving look, that went unnoticed. "I have been looking forward to meeting her, Senator. To work as diligently as she does, with justice her only reward, is worthy of commendation. "
The young politician smiled. "I agree, Master Jedi. She is not just an assistant to my case. She is also a great friend."
"You must have many friends." Anakin commented softly.
Padme turned her head to conceal her blush. "She is expecting us." And then the Senator stepped out of the car. The apprentice was quick to follow.
Obi-Wan rubbed the space between his brows, lingering on his seat.
Fingers brushed against his hand. He knew they were Qui-Gon's, and was about to shove him away, but the touch was gone a second later.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
He groaned, turning onto his stomach, fingers clawing at his pillow.
The face hovered in front of him. The yellow, crooked rows of teeth, bared in a feral grin. The malevolent glint of inhuman eyes. The jagged designs.
Red and black.
Always the red and black.
It was the creature that stalked him, that crept into bright dreams and spilled shadows, leaving the darkness. Laughter, soft and cruel and all too memorable, split his eardrums.
"Return to your pathetic Temple."
Obi-Wan screamed, and was thrown from the nightmare, the hellish specter disappearing into the constant void.
The Knight sat up, cold sweat bathing his naked chest. He breathed out heavily.
The terror of the moment gripped him with bone-crushing intensity. Obi-Wan released a weak, ragged sob as he flung the covers aside.
He clambered out of the bed and walked straight ahead, unheeding of the cautions to be careful, to take each step gradually, with a cane for added support.
Obi-Wan fell to his knees and felt around feverishly for the box. His fingers raked against the cardboard flap, and he smiled, tears flooding his cheeks.
He searched with desperately quaking hands, until the soft material was captured in them.
"Oh." He gasped, clutching the stuffed animal to him. He inhaled deeply of the scent: spice and sea-side blooms. It was the aroma that surrounded Qui-Gon, that would comfort him in moments of fear or uncertainty. That filled his lungs, and calmed inner torrents.
He remembered waking in strange rooms, cords protruding from his limbs, and calling for his Master. Being pacified before those strong arms wove around him, by the familiar fragrance.
Obi-Wan huddled on the ground, rocking slowly, his former teacher's discarded gift cradled in his clammy embrace.
His mind was still fuzzy from sleep, and soon he slipped to that limbo between slumber and awareness. The Sith leaped into sight once more.
But now, his eyes were awash with midnight blue. A brown beard, streaked with gray, protruded from his chin. His body grew long and lean and rangy, dressed in tan tunics.
He looked openly at Obi-Wan, then grinned. "My fault, Padawan."
Obi-Wan shuddered, beads of misery slipping from closed eyelids. "No."
And the figure was swept into the black.
It was the same nearly every night.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Berrel sat with his arms crossed over a hardened, sculpted chest. He regarded the other man with cool detachment, and the slightest hint of haughty disgust. This was a machine with flesh, a droid possessing something akin to a heart. It was a tool used for advancement. The man could be discarded at any time, if the need arose.
That seemed, however, not to be the case. This prisoner was a natural, unlike some of his fellow captives, whose training was all that separated them from average citizens. This man held a blaster as if the grooves were made to fit the specific form of his fingers. His aim was remarkable.
Berrel cocked his head at the wall, where a small white circle was tacked to the crumbling, gray surface. "Who's that?"
The man's eyes held the vacancy of a mind-wipe, but the underlying, instinctive reactions, the raw intelligence, was evident. Berrel watched as the potential killer lifted the weapon, without his wrist bending slightly or awkwardly at the added weight. Those eyes narrowed in unmistakable ire.
"The…Senator." The man growled. And, without instruction, he fired, blowing a hole in the target.
Blackened shreds of the paper scattered on the ground. Berrel imagined it was Padme Amidala, exploding in pain, reduced to unrecognizable bits.
He grinned. "Good. You learn well." He stood, rubbing his hands together. "It's almost a waste to use you on her. With that skill, you could easily take on some lucrative clients. But, hey." He stopped in front of the silent figure, "First things first."
The man nodded.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The door slid open, and Ileana's eyes flashed to each new face before settling on Padme's. She smiled. "Welcome, Milady. And the Jedi."
The men bowed.
"It is an honor to be in your presence." Qui-Gon commented, kindness and respect reflected in his eyes.
Ileana put a slim hand to her chest. She blushed. "Thank you, sir." She glanced over his shoulder, appearing a bit unsettled. Then, her gaze drifted back to them, and she smiled again, though half-heartedly. "Please, come inside."
The woman led them to a modest main room, with wine-colored furniture and bare walls. Two shaggy, blonde dogs came galloping up to the small group. They were huge, long ears flopping as the approached.
"They're very sweet." Ileana assured. "But they may not warm up to strangers too fast."
Her predictions were instantly proved incorrect. Two pairs of paws pinned Obi-Wan's knees against a wall. He made a small, surprised 'oof' sound.
Ileana's eyes widened. "Tika! Leram! Down!"
But Obi-Wan only smiled, quickly overcoming his initial shock, and extended a calm hand to pet the furry creatures. "It's alright, Miss Zimn."
Padme studied his even, very nearly benevolent countenance in open fondness.
This caught Anakin's attention at once, and a jealousy flared in him.
Qui-Gon watched as his ex-protégé playfully ruffled the thick, soft manes. The dogs licked his hands, panting, their azure eyes glittering with delight.
Anakin saw everyone drawn to Kenobi, as if he were some attracting force. He tried to console himself, he tried to remember what Chancellor Palpatine had said. "You are far better than he." Inside, Skywalker smiled smugly.
I know. I will not forget the wisdom you imparted upon me.
He focused a hooded glare on Kenobi. I will show everyone the truth.
And in the end, they will thank me.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
They settled in the main room, the Jedi sharing a sofa while the two women sat on a plush loveseat.
Anakin chafed at the small separation from Padme. He looked longingly at her from his place on the farthest cushion.
The dogs were nestled against Obi-Wan, one on each side, their lovely, innocent eyes drooping.
Ileana's heart warmed at their affection for this poor man. "I must tell you, Knight Kenobi, I was very much shocked at how quickly Tika and Liram took a liking to you. Usually they are wary of strangers." She beamed at her sleepy and thoroughly adorable pets. "They are protective of me. Since---" She swallowed hard, and her eyelashes fluttered. Strain appeared in lines on her face. "Since I left my former love, I have been a lonely woman. But these two have been the dearest company anyone could wish for. "
Obi-Wan could, of course, not see the physical signs of painful recollection, but read it easily through her tone. He smiled softly. "I can understand." He lowered his hand to stroke a napping dog, concealing his own sudden, striking reminder of bitter solitude. He cleared his throat. "And I'm---"
"Padme, does Ileana know of the threat on your life?" Anakin blurted, unable to control his irritation and boredom.
Padme hesitated, turning toward Obi-Wan to gauge his reaction. But the Knight seemed to have lost his words, for he sat silent, feathery ginger hair gleaming bright. Weariness ringed his eyes. She reluctantly replied. "No."
Ileana gasped sharply, grasping the Senator's arm. "Milady, why did you not tell me?!"
"Because I knew it would upset you."
Ileana shook her head, what very well could have been tears glimmering in her eyes. A wavy strand of red hair fell in her face. "I already knew Berrel was annoyed by your efforts. But I didn't know---He was as serious about it---I thought he was going to try to scare you off---I didn't know---" She gathered a shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry, Milady."
Padme patted her friend's arm. "Don't be. You have helped me immensely, Ileana." A darkness flitted over her visage. "Things are growing very dangerous. For me--and for you. We need to be careful."
Qui-Gon, who had been an observer throughout the conversations, finally spoke. "Indeed." He shifted his intelligent gaze toward Ileana. "You must be extremely careful not to allow certain bits of information to slip to that man. If some things were to be revealed, he may find a way to profit from the knowledge."
A chill swept through her body. "I know." She replied quietly.
Padme noticed her strangely withdrawn manner, and vowed to inquire of it later. For now, she took the reigns of the discussion. "Tomorrow, I would like to have you study the demographic I have created that fits every victim. For all the men, we are not certain they have been kidnapped, but it 's more than likely."
The Master nodded. "Would it be possible for us to receive a list of suspicious areas? With our sharpened senses, we may be able to locate the underground prison, or at least narrow the list."
"I will have that sent to your room tonight, Master Jinn." Padme assured. "I have also documents incidents Ileana has witnessed that I will include for you." She glanced at the woman again, frowning, then looked at the Jedi. "You must be a bit worn out from your journey. I think I should escort you to your residence now."
Relief registered as a sigh by Ileana.
Anakin stood, and disturbed the slumbering dogs. They leaped off the couch, yipping angrily at him.
Ileana crossed her arms. "Now now! Stop that!"
The apprentice sent a soothing wave through the Force to them.
The creatures did not receive it kindly. They continued to bark and growl, drool dripping from sharp teeth.
"Leave me alone you mutts." Anakin muttered, walking faster to the door.
Obi-Wan traveled with the rest. He would have been amused, had he not been exhausted and in near agony. Already his gait was slowed.
An arm wove around his. Padme touched his hand in a friendly gesture. "Was there something more you wanted to say back there, Knight Kenobi?"
He shook his head, ignoring the shaft of pain that accompanied the meager movement. "No, Milady."
Anakin craned his neck to see where she was, and his eyes narrowed when he found her. Clasping onto Kenobi, grinning, lighting up the room with her sparkle.
She's not supposed to care about HIM. I hate him. More and more as each second passes…
Before he could finish his thought, Tika nipped his leg.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed, jumping back.
Amusement pulsed in the Force. He threw his head up, but Kenobi was expressionless, as if he was totally unaware of the situation.
He crouched down, rubbing his injured calf. Must have imagined it.
Padme rushed to him. "Ani? Are you hurt?"
He stifled a satisfied, gleeful smile, and looked up at her, grimacing. "Yeah----I guess."
The dramatic reply worked. She kneeled beside him, her delicate hand resting on his shoulder.
From his vantage point behind them, Qui-Gon shook his head, disappointed. He is manipulating her. There is no pain at all.
Again, he had to wonder what grievous faults he had committed as a teacher to this young, often arrogant man.
And to the silent, stony figure beside him.
"It isn't serious, Anakin." He said gruffly. "Let's not hold up the Senator. I'm sure she keeps a busy schedule. And we have work to do as well."
Anakin wanted nothing at that moment more than to give an open glare, but he nodded, eyes lowered. "Yes, Master."
Inside, his emotions danced. The tables were beginning to turn.
Padme Amidala was staring at him.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Sidious raked cool, pale eyes over his apprentice. "You have done well." He croaked, only his mouth visible beneath a black cowl. Shadows bathed his aged face.
Maul bowed. Pride swept through him, reaching the corroded place that was once a heart. "Thank you, my Master."
"Yes…I am pleased that you did not kill him."
Confusion touched the design-covered face. "Who?"
Loose, gray-tinted lips curved to a chilling smile. "The Padawan. Tell me…was he an able warrior, my apprentice?"
Fire seemed to flicker in Maul's eyes. "No, Master. But he lasted longer than the other. He fled the battle."
Sidious nodded, smirking. "I expected nothing else from Qui-Gon Jinn. I larger coward has never been known." Hate dripped from his words.
"But Kenobi has potential." His piercing stare seemed to impale the fellow Sith, for Maul quickly had to smooth out the grimace threatening to mar his features. "He could prove a useful ally, if it were possible." Or more.
Maul was motionless. Disdain, and faint jealousy, broiled in him.
He had spent the first month after Naboo locked in a single room, as punishment for failing to kill Amidala. One small, insufficient meal was dropped at the door daily. His single command, given before he was shoved into the claustrophobic space, was to remember his shortcoming.
Oh, how he had thought of that moment, slashing his weapon across Kenobi's face, watching flawless flesh mottle and crackle. He relived the joy, a rancor building in him since the first day he heard his Master spat the cursed term 'Jedi', finally unleashed.
The Jedi should all die . As my ancestral Masters have written in the ancient tomes.
Uncertainty flickered in him. Then why should my Master want Kenobi to live?
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
The sleek cloud car came to a stop.
Dusk had bloomed in the Naboo sky, spreading shades of mandarin and pink upon the city.
Theed Plaza was a grand structure. Awash with fair green tones, it towered above neighboring structures, the swirling tip among wispy clouds. There were countless rounded windows, framed in gold, and a massive arching door.
An attendant, immaculately dressed in a velvet blue uniform, opened the vehicle's door, and held his hand out for Padme.
She accepted it. "Thank you, sir."
Anakin followed, watching her straighten the minor wrinkles in her obsidian gown.
Another attendant moved to help Obi-Wan, but he politely declined, trying to ignore the burning grind in his temples.
The apprentice gazed up at the hotel. "It's beautiful, Padme."
She smiled. "Yes. I love to stay here."
I wish you were staying. "Then I know I'll love it to." He replied quietly.
Qui-Gon had witnessed the somewhat intimate exchange, and nonchalantly walked between them, eyes focused on the Senator. "It is spectacular, Milady. Such extravagance should not be wasted on the likes of us."
Padme beamed. "Nonsense. Only the best for the protectors of the galaxy. I would not settle for anything else for you, Master Jedi."
Qui-Gon gave a small bow. "Thank you."
Anakin quickly imitated his Master's gesture. "Thank you, Padme." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Qui-Gon's chiding look.
"Senator Amidala." The Padawan muttered under his breath.
"It's getting a bit cold out here. Shall we go inside?" She began to head for the entrance.
"Oh…wait!" Anakin called after her.
Padme stopped. Qui-Gon favored him with a quizzical brow lifting.
"We almost forgot the droid Padme so graciously has provided for Knight Kenobi!" He informed them, as if flabbergasted.
Padme put her hand to her mouth, briskly returning to the car. "That's right, Ani! Thank you for reminding us!" She pulled the inactive droid from the back seat, and switched on its power.
Siron-7 came to life, arms stiffly working, artificial eyes blinking. Padme rubbed a small stain from the metal. "Isn't he wonderful?"
Obi-Wan forced a smile. "Yes, Milady. Thank you for your consideration. He has been---" He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, "A great help to me."
She clasped her hands together. "I thought he would be. Sometimes I have a few droids running around me office---just to collect papers and such. I find them to save me significant time, especially lately, with this awful case."
Anakin turned from them, grinning. He knew, if it was possible, Kenobi would be glaring daggers at him.
"Well, now that we are, at last, prepared, let's get you settled." She lead the way inside.
~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
Mejant sat on the edge of her bed, ceramic mug cupped in her trembling hands.
The drapes were rippled by a cold wind that poured through the open window.
She stared at them, the near-rhythm of the billowing calming her disquieted spirit. Steam from the tea wafted up around her face, and the Knight breathed in the spicy warmth.
The darkened apartment was dead still, but her mind spun. Tense worry roiled her stomach. Her skin was coated in ice.
Sleep had been elusive as of late. Nights were spent wandering her rooms, and sometimes the entire Temple, like a wraith. Her limbs ached, and her deep black eyes were awash with red.
Mejant sighed, setting the full container on the side table. She crawled beneath the sheets, long hair tied in a thick braid, dressed in silky maroon pajamas.
The pillow was soft and inviting. She nestled her weary head in its comfort, and folded her chilled hands across her midsection.
The bland white ceiling stared down at her.
The young woman muttered a frustrated curse, sealing her eyes tight, and forcing her restless body to relax.
She lay there. The silence was not silent at all. Instead, it created a sort of buzz that caused her to twitch.
"For the stars' sake!" She whispered sharply, rolling onto her side, pressing the pillow against her ear.
For a moment, Mejant thought she was content.
Until a voice permeated her thoughts. A voice that was the velvet softness of her life, that cradled her in certainty and love. A voice that was no longer lilting. A voice that lost its most beautiful harmony.
" I can't. I just want…to be…"
The end of the sentence, hidden , haunted her. It frightened her to think of the countless, dismal possibilities. What quivered at the edge of his mouth. What he longed to reveal to her…but would not.
She toyed with the frayed necklace draping from her onto the bed. It was made of flimsy, loosely threaded material. Pale yellow and pink, intertwined, to create a simple design.
Obi-Wan gave it to her when they were children. It had been her birthday, and a small celebration was planned in the large quarters she shared with her Master.
Obi-Wan held out a small, wrapped box.
She smiled shyly, blushing. "Thank you Obi."
"You're welcome." He shifted his weight from his heels to his toes, rocking, bright eyes glittering. "Come on. Open it!"
Mejant giggled, then tore off the slick paper, letting it flutter to the ground. A breath caught in her throat when she saw the elegant, black case. "Obi you…" She flipped the lid up. "Shouldn't have."
The homemade jewelry piece was coiled up inside. The Padawan lifted it, examining the color and style.
Obi-Wan waited, motionless as stone.
Mejant looked up at him, and flashed the widest, genuine smile he had ever seen. "It's gorgeous, Obi. I love it."
"Really?"
She pulled him into an embrace. "Yeah. It's so pretty." She said against his shoulder.
Obi-Wan held her close, the awkwardness of a smitten teenager nonexistent in his graceful show of affection. "I'm really glad you like it. It took me hours. Master Qui-Gon helped…" He hesitated. "A lot."
Mejant laughed.
He placed the gift around her neck, brushing his hands on her cheeks.
"Happy birthday." Obi-Wan murmured, and kissed her tenderly, for a lingering moment, on the lips.
She knew from that day, she would never want to be kissed by another.
And she wasn't.
Mejant threw the covers aside, and traipsed to the window. She gazed into the far distance, and wondered if fate was truly as cruel as some said.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Theed Plaza was the epitome of Naboo style: striking extravagance mixed with natural beauty.
Padme smiled absently as she glanced around while guiding her Jedi companions. "This is one of the oldest structures on the entire planet. Great figures in our history have stayed in this very hotel."
They passed a stone fountain of a woman, holding a bundle of gold. Water streamed across her solid feet.
Anakin placed his hand on the Senator's arm. "What's that?"
Her brown eyes glittered solemnly, respectfully. "That's Nerollia. A group of merchants refused to donate pieces of their abundant gold to help the poor. She was just a middle-class woman, passing by, who happened to overhear. She grew so outraged at their greed that she grabbed their gold, and flung it into the nearby river." She stared up at the monument. "It is said that the Naboo rivers sparkle because of her compassionate actions."
Anakin smiled, nodding. But inside, he was confused by the tale. Why didn't the poor simply work to earn their own gold? Why should the merchants be forced to give up their belongings?
Qui-Gon studied the surroundings. Expensive, stone pillars bracketed the check-in desk. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, with tear-drop diamonds dangling from the ends. Vines of gorgeous, satiny blooms lined the walls.
He nearly commented on the loveliness, but, realizing Obi-Wan might feel isolated by his visual impairment, remained silent.
They traveled to the lift. An attendant greeted them politely, and the trio, along with a protective Siron-7, entered.
When the doors began to close, a family, dressed lavishly, hurried to fit in.
The Jedi Master instinctively pulled Obi-Wan beside him, to allow others room.
Padme and Anakin stepped back against a corner. The mother, father and three children crowded the middle.
The apprentice glanced at his mentor, face shaded. Padme noticed at once.
She cleared her throat. "So Ani, you must be exhausted. How was your trip?"
Anakin slowly turned back to her, his frown disappearing. "Fine. …Great. The accommodations were wonderful. You are very…" He gazed deeply into her eyes. "Thoughtful."
Padme's face was frozen, as if entranced.
They looked at each other. The sound in the elevator seemed to have been swallowed up.
"Here we are. Level fifteen." The man announced, shattering the still moment.
Padme blinked, then shook her head. She swallowed hard, grappling for composure. "Good." She said, and walked into the hallway.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
The Jedi sat their packs on a smooth wood table. Anakin surveyed the room, jaw slack. "Padme, this is just…I mean, it's so…wow."
Padme giggled. "I thought you would like it." She folded her hands behind her, waiting as the Padawan continued to gawk.
Qui-Gon gave the place a quick once-over, then bowed to the Senator. "These quarters are phenomenal, Milady. You have our gratitude. Though we may feel a bit out of place, surrounding by such luxury."
She grinned. "Nonsense, Master Jedi."
The main room was large, with heavily draped windows, and huge works of art mounted to the gold-stained walls. Stylish black furniture littered the space. The floor was velvet, caramel colored, and sinfully soft.
Obi-Wan inhaled. A sweet, floral scent swept into his lungs. He was sorely thankful for the cool temperature, as tiny beads of sweat descended his forehead. From the jubilant reactions, the features must have been breathtaking.
His joints burned. The base of his neck throbbed. I wonder what the bed is like…
Padme began to step back towards the door. "Room services are available all hours. If you need a snack, or a robe, or a new big screen holo player, just ask. Everything's on my account."
Anakin frowned. His heart dropped. "You're leaving? Already?"
She offered him a regretful, semi-weary look. "You need your rest. Much work is to be done, Ani."
"Well, I could walk you to the front." He said hastily. "It's the least I can do for you, Padme."
The Senator smiled, glancing at Qui-Gon, who seemed hesitant.
But then the Master nodded. "That's fine, Padawan. Escort Senator Amidala to her vehicle." He bowed once more. "I look forward to receiving you and Miss Zimn's reports on this case."
"They will be hand-delivered by an assistant as soon as I am able." She headed for the exit. "Good night, Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi."
"Good night, Milady." The two Jedi replied, and their voices seemed to meld together, so that a single, refined sound responded.
Anakin eagerly slipped his arm around hers, and together the youths left the hotel room.
Qui-Gon stood, staring at the spot they had once occupied, forehead crinkled. Suddenly, he was uneasy.
Obi-Wan sensed his chance for a clean escape to his private quarters, and shouldered his pack.
Immediately Silon-7 chirped sharply, rolling up beside him. "Where-is-your-desired-destination-Obi-Wan-Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan kneaded his temple, teeth grit. "A droid disposal center." He muttered.
Qui-Gon put a hand over his mouth to stifle his amused chuckle.
"That-does-not-compute. I-am-sorry. Where-is-your-desired-destination-Obi-Wan-Kenobi?"
The Knight sighed heavily. "The nearest bed."
"According-to-the-information-stored-in-my-database-by-Senator-Amidala-the-bed-in-closest-proximity-to-Obi-Wan-Kenobi-is-thirty-feet-south-and-twenty-nine-point-three-feet-northeast."
Obi-Wan was taking the first careful step when he felt a pressure on his shoulder. "I'm very, very tired, Master Jinn. I'll argue with you tomorrow." He tried to move, but a strong hand captured his upper arm.
"You're still sick, Obi-Wan. Considerably sick."
"And?"
"And?" Qui-Gon huffed incredulously. "You need antibiotics!"
Obi-Wan's mouth was a straight line. "Or a healing trance?"
That stung. Qui-Gon faltered a moment, the words fumbling in his mind. "I----I already apologized for that."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "That doesn't excuse it." He whispered tensely.
The older man enclosed the other arm in his gentle grasp. "I know how that must have hurt."
"Do you?" The fresh pain beat in the quiet tone.
"No." Qui-Gon looked away from that haunting face for a split second, overwhelmed with shame. "But, as I have explained, it was necessary. You could have worsened."
Obi-Wan blinked against the press of hot tears. "Why would you care?"
"Why?" Qui-Gon snorted. "Isn't it obvious?"
"No."
"Because, Obi-Wan, I love you. I've loved you since the day I watched over you on The Monument, and you opened your eyes, " He stroked the healed skin around them, "And you looked up at me. I fought the love then. You fight it now. But that doesn't mean it's ever been truly, completely gone. You're my son, Obi. You can disown my all you want, you can deny it until you're hoarse, but it will not change that single, benevolent fact. "
Obi-Wan's throat tightened around the rising sobs. The man had just spoken what he had waited to hear since he was a lonely, insecure child. He lived so long as a solitary figure, mourning something lost, that had never belonged to him to begin with. To discover that, apparently, he had been loved dearly all along, was too much to take. "Our friendship was a lie. I won't believe these false declarations, Master Jinn. I have accepted what destiny has planned for me." He coughed hard. "Now, you must accept what is planned for you. And if those paths have intersected in the past---It was sheer, grim coincidence."
Qui-Gon ran his palms over the ginger strands. "You're scared to forgive, my Padawan."
Obi-Wan pushed the touch away. "And you smell like liquor." He spat, then stormed down the hall, feeling for the first opening. He ignored the wet warmth coursing down his cheeks.
I don't believe him. I don't believe a word. Not a word.
The door sealed behind him. He crashed to his knees, dissolving in tears.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
"It's so strange."
Anakin looked at the Senator, puzzled by her contemplative expression, but his affection always obvious. "What is?"
Padme shrugged. "I don't know." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I guess it's just…been so long, you know? Ten years is a lot, Ani."
"Yeah. So?"
"So?" She mocked, laughing. "So we haven't seen each other for an entire decade, and now here we are, acting as if we've spent every day together. I don't know…I just expected it to be awkward."
"I have seen you every day, Padme."
She glanced at him, eyebrow slanted. "What?"
He stopped in the corridor, eyes growing very still. It took incredible strength not to caress her soft, perfect face. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you."
She gazed up at him, silent. Then, she broke into high chuckles.
Anakin frowned. His hands went to his hips. "What's so funny about that?"
She held up a hand while continuing to laugh, bent slightly over. "It's nothing…It's just…."
"It's just what?"
Padme regained control, only a ghost of a smile on her amused visage. "It's just that you sound like one of those desperately in love, hair whipping in the wind…men from romance holos."
"No I don't." He negated rather indignantly. They began walking again.
After a moment, Anakin looked at her. "What's wrong with that? I thought women…went for that stuff."
"Maybe some of them do. I'm not a mooning sort of girl, Anakin. I don't need the aggravation. Honesty is what I look for."
He touched her hand. "I was being honest."
Now it was her turn to halt in her steps. The Senator smiled, bewildered and surprised. "What are you---What are you talking about, Ani?"
He swallowed, then loosely held her wrists between his fingers. "I was trying to tell you that I think about you more than-more than anything. You brighten my dreams. You chase my darkness away. And when I'm lonely, I only have to think of you. Then I smile."
She slipped from his hold. "Anakin, you don't know what you're saying." She shook her head, tone serious. "I told you. We haven't seen each other in ten years. You were a little child, I was a child myself. We met, and spent a very short time together. We don't know each other at all. Not really."
"But Padme, " He persisted. "I don't care about that. If it was just a chance meeting, then why would I be unable to rid you from my mind? It's more than what you say it is. I KNOW it is."
Annoyance flickered in her eyes. "How? How do you know, Ani? Do you know what my favorite flavor of ice cream is? Do you know what holo programs I watch? Or my mother's name?"
He sighed. "No. But I want to know. I want us to know each other deeply, Padme. Then maybe you can see what I have all along."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "And what's that?"
"That we were meant to be together."
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon sat heavily on the glossy sofa and leaned back, shutting his eyes.
It was during these times that he missed Tahl the most, when his need for her sharpened, and impaled his heart.
She never allowed bad situations to escalate to the point of such aching pain and frustration. She met difficulties with a steady resolve…and a beautiful spirit. Tahl would never idle in the current problem. She understood that waiting only wore away at a wound, and true healing slipped farther from your hands.
She would rush into Obi-Wan's room right now, with a gentle grace, and carefully, perfectly handle his emotion. She wouldn't take his abrupt departures lightly. She would confront him in such a method that he couldn't run.
A rueful smile crossed his face. She was always better than me…At everything.
Even after her blinding, she was flushed with the vibrancy of life. She overcame her initial discomfort, and learned that asking for small aids was not the end of the Universe---she only needed time to discover that.
Losing the ability to gaze upon surroundings once familiar to you, being unable to watch a sunset spread liquid gold across the horizon or see the glow of love in someone's eyes, had to be beyond devastating.
She knew it still existed around her. And, in her own way, she would experience those sensations again. Tahl, in the horrible, premature end, was the same radiant woman, seasoned Jedi, and devoted companion.
Yes. Qui-Gon turned his head toward Obi-Wan's closed door. Time.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Obi-Wan pressed his forehead to his palms, and the blistering heat that met his soft flesh was pooled over by copious, warm tears.
His head pounded with every harsh sob. He was kneeling on the ground, his ill, feverish body shaking so intensely his teeth began to rattle.
The congestion was building fast in his chest and draining into his throat. There was barely enough clear passage for him to cry.
And oh, how he wanted to cry. Those things Qui-Gon spoke of with such a free, certain air…They could not have been honest. Those words had been too intense, for they betrayed every belief sewn into his soul. It hurt, badly, to have the bitter threads pulled.
Especially when the only family he knew was behind the rough tugging.
No. He shook his head miserably, panting. Damp hair clung to his face. Not my family. I DON'T think that anymore.
Still, it was terribly difficult to lie to yourself, and banish the knowledge that was, at the barest level, the base of your entire existence.
His hands clenched into clammy fists. Exhaustion hovered above him.
Then, he realized.
He had been tired, unspeakably weary, for too long.
And perhaps, it was right to leave the pride behind.
He lifted his head, gathered a breath, and stood. Immediately, he was dizzy.
But it felt good to be standing.
A Jedi was not meant to stumble. A man was not meant to crawl.
His hand touched the smooth steel of the door. It slid open, and the rush of cool air, he decided, felt wonderful.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Stars, nestled in the velvet black of the Naboo sky, twinkled. Senator Amidala gazed up at them, the scene reflected in her eyes. "Stars are dead. When we see them shining so brightly …" She shook her head. "They're already gone."
Anakin shrugged. "I never thought of that. Kinda sad."
She considered this a moment, walking close to him, arms folded to stave off the cold. Then, she shook her head. "I don't think so. When you're gone, wouldn't you want a lasting mark?"
The moonlight bathed his face in jaundiced light. "You mean an empire?"
She chuckled. "No. Like an echo, maybe."
For maybe the hundredth time since landing on this lush planet, Anakin delved far into her Force spirit. While she was not sensitive to that unifying entity, she still possessed a presence, that glided through his own mind as if it were soothing silk. His heart was welled with emotion for this girl---woman. "You're amazing, Padme."
She looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed, almost assessing the statement. Slowly, she smiled. "And you're heavy on flattery, aren't you?"
"No." He said, in a lusty, smoky tone. "Just with you."
She couldn't help the blush that left her cheeks the shade of a rose. "You know, Ani, we passed my cloud car ten minutes ago."
He turned to her, and a huge grin split his face. "I know."
She rolled her eyes. "I've been abducted."
The Jedi laughed. "That's right."
They traveled by various shops. Padme stopped at a window displaying pieces of silver jewelry, and laid her hands on the glass, admiring the collection.
Anakin stood at her shoulder, debating whether she would take offense if he placed his hands over hers.
"Oh, Ani. Just look at that!" She gasped, fingers slapping over her mouth before he could experiment. "It's so beautiful."
She pointed to a ring. The band was formed by intricate diamond swirls, with an oval ruby mounted in the center.
Padme exhaled, and took to the path again. "It reminds me of a ring my mother wore."
"Really?" He commented slyly. "Your mother? May I ask what her name is?"
The Senator giggled. Her black dress swept against the ground. "Juneva Naberrie."
"And your father?"
"My father was a mad scientist. He blew himself up in a chemical explosion."
Anakin choked. "Padme! I'm so sorry."
She nodded. Grief gleamed in her eyes. "Yes. It's tragic, isn't it?" She smirked. "We keep his head in a clear tube on the kitchen table."
They were both silent before erupting in laughter.
Anakin wiped a tear from his eye, attempting to recover. "S-So? What's his name?"
"Rubenn Naberrie. I have sisters, but I don't want to talk about them."
Anakin quirked his mouth. "Why not?"
"Because---this is going to sound childish, but--they're brats. That was the only good thing about leaving home. Nobody swiping your blouse from your closet without asking."
He smiled. "Well, I'm sorry to touch on a sore subject, but did you and your sisters ever go out for ice cream?"
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon's head popped up when he heard the door slide open.
Obi-Wan stood there, leaning against the wall. The Master could see dried tracks of tears on his cheeks. The sick Knight was trembling, and his sandy tunic clung to him.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and winced at the pain. "M---Master…Jinn?"
Qui-Gon rose from the sofa. He approached his former apprentice, a cold stone thrown into the pit of his belly. "Yes, Obi-Wan?" He asked gently.
Guardedly, Obi-Wan took a step forward.
Despite an absence of use, Qui-Gon caught the paleness in cerulean eyes. He reached out to steady him.
The younger man swallowed. "I-I think I need…some medicine."
Then, cleanly, without so much as a snapping sound to alert him, Obi-Wan's knees buckled.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~