~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Chapter Ten: So Untrue
Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue
Honesty is hardly ever heard
And mostly what I need from you. -Billy J oel
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Anakin entwined his fingers tightly, staring down at them, watching the flesh turn an angry shade of scarlet.
The lavish hotel room was dead still. Heavy velvet drapes hung across the wide windows, smothering the midday light, leaving the atmosphere a shadow-laden gray. The stylish sofa was stiff beneath him; the various shows of decadence had grown tiresome in the long solitary hours.
Padme's scent, a delicate vanilla, had worn away from his hands and the air. He could imagine breathing it in, reminding him of her lovely flawlessness, but the counterfeit pleasure became more painful than anything else.
He drew back and rested his aching neck.
She had lingered in the hospital as long as she could, swearing she would have stayed forever if possible, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek…and he would deepen it, the craving for her insatiable, the need for her support overwhelming.
Padme had smiled, lust and regret unhidden in her dark eyes, murmuring that she had duties to return to, that her life was dedicated to service of her homeland, that he had his own responsibilities to care for…and that she would think of him every moment.
Anakin was crestfallen, but at last released his hungry touch from her, and escorted Padme to her waiting transport.
He had felt peculiar beats in the Force as he walked alongside his lover, projecting from outside himself…but so intimate, he was convinced there were traces of his presence ingrained in them.
Stranded in this empty place, bereft of his Padme and Master, his lone company had been the unsettling musings that occasionally overtook his mind.
Swathed in murky layers, it was difficult to discern what they meant…but he certainly knew how they felt.
The wretched face of Kenobi, twisted in agony and fear.
Oh, that felt marvelous.
If only that were all. He crossed his arms behind his head. I could DEFINITELY deal with that. A feral grin spread over his mouth.
But the Force, for what else could be causing the visions, was never so kind to him.
Once Kenobi faded, his Master would appear, compassionate eyes reduced to infuriated slits, almost snarling at an unseen enemy.
And then Padme was there, the horrid finale to the desolate collage, streaked with tears, blood dripping to her toes.
A voice shattered the silence within him after that: "For him!"
Ileana Zimn.
The slain woman's last, haunting words.
Anakin Skywalker had no doubt who she warned of. He had been wary, hateful, of the man since Qui-Gon relinquished his claim those ten years ago, to accept a worthy charge, one who could lead the Jedi down the path of glory…The Chosen One.
This was the man who spoke vehemently of the supposed 'dangers' the former slave boy, and superior, posed.
It was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
And he was a curse upon all their lives.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon stood outside the ornate door of their assigned quarters, entrance card held halfway to the panel, eyes the color of a crashing ocean at midnight mirroring his inner conflict.
He won't understand.
The harsh thought pierced his collected, tranquil mind, and what he had strove diligently to still scattered like broken glass. He took a step back.
After Obi-Wan agreed to the procedure, Qui-Gon was temporarily blinded by his happiness and fierce hope, reporting to the Council of the development.
But as the night wore on, and the excitement faded, the Master realized that though a major hurdle was being crossed, there was another obstacle…no, not an obstacle…my apprentice is not an obstacle..
Anakin was young and, as much as Qui-Gon didn't want to admit it, possessive. Once he was attached to a person, he gripped them with both hands…and his heart. His protective nature emerged strong and nearly invincible. He needed them to focus solely on him, to see nothing beyond his face, hear nothing beyond his voice.
The boy had never accepted that Obi-Wan had the right to a place in Qui-Gon's life. If Qui-Gon dare speak a word to the isolated Knight, Anakin's Force signature flooded with animosity and…envy. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan had no intention of replying, that he stalked away without muttering a syllable.
Qui-Gon had loved Obi-Wan for many years. The deepest affection the older man could achieve was kindled by that gentle, sweet soul. His fondness surpassed even that of a father for a son…in the remote existence of Jedi, they were all the other could rely on.
Surely he had that same relationship with Anakin. Then why doesn't he believe that I can love him, while I continue to love Obi-Wan?
He wasn't convinced that Anakin could fully control his resent toward Obi-Wan. He had attacked him when he was defenseless and blind and…
Force.
This shouldn't be so hard.
Inhaling, he entered the apartment.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Anakin sensed his Master's arrival, standing and straightening his tunics.
"Good afternoon, Padawan." Qui-Gon greeted. He shed his robe, then paused, studying his apprentice's face.
Anakin looked directly into the probing eyes. "Are we leaving?" He asked… and the longing was apparent.
Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest, gaze falling to the ground. "Not---Not yet. " Well, not a total lie.
The younger man sighed loudly and collapsed back on the sofa. "I don't see why." He grumbled.
Qui-Gon rested in the stylized arm chair in front of the boy, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. "Ani, we need to talk about that." He swallowed thickly. "I--I spoke with Dr. Gale and Knight Kenobi. He'll be undergoing a procedure that could return him his memories."
Anakin's expression was unchanged.
"This operation is very delicate. If there were any…complications, the results would be dire."
So? Anakin huffed. "And?"
Qui-Gon reached forward and squeezed a tight shoulder. He could forgive the impatience. "And I think for you to remain during the surgery and recovery would be pointless. You would be floundering here…"
Anakin exploded to his feet. "Master! I am a member of this mission team! Why should I have to leave?!"
"I have explained---"
"No." Anakin shook his head, pitch dipping low. "You didn't explain. You just made an excuse."
Qui-Gon stood, pacific and undeterred. "I have no reason to create excuses, Padawan. If I decide your presence would be better suited elsewhere, then it is within my power to do so. You have every right to disagree…But it won't alter the outcome."
Anakin's fisted hands trembled. "This isn't fair. I DON'T want to leave!"
Qui-Gon rubbed the broken bridge of his nose. "Acting like a child during a tantrum is neither suitable for Jedi behavior, or helpful to your argument."
"Why do YOU need to stay?" The boy persisted, brow dark. "Kenobi isn't a child either."
"No," Qui-Gon replied, unruffled, "But he will be very vulnerable afterwards. His memories will be slowly released. Disorientation and confusion is expected. He'll need my support to get through it."
"And what of me, Master?" Anakin wondered, growing uncharacteristically quiet. "Do I not need your support?"
Qui-Gon breathed out and grasped his apprentice's hand for a brief moment. "I hope that you do."
Anakin blinked. He wasn't prepared to see the pure love in the man's eyes. Thoughts of his mother skirted past his mind, and he felt a constriction in his throat. "I do, Master." He said softly. "That's why I wish to stay here as long as you're required to."
A smile spread on the bearded face. He ghosted his fingers along Anakin's cheek. "I wish you could stay, Padawan. I wish this intervention was unnecessary.
"But I have to protect you…" Both.
Anakin was motionless against the rare touch. A sharp kindness pulsed in Qui-Gon's azure eyes, he was very nearly entranced. "I don't need protecting, Master. There are no threats for me here." None that you're aware of anyway. "And the investigation isn't complete." He added hastily.
Qui-Gon's hand moved along the sandy slope of hair. "Our part in that is done. If any need for you surfaced, you would, of course, return."
Anakin pulled away with a rude sound. "This is stupid!"
The benevolence drained from Qui-Gon's eyes. "You may have your opinion. But I will not tolerate offense toward me, or my actions as your Master."
Anakin was fuming, but silent.
"A transport is arriving in an hour. Pack. While you journey back to Coruscant, I suggest you draft your mission report." He walked away.
This isn't fair. The apprentice raged inside. This isn't fair!
Relieved of his duties, Anakin stormed to his room.
The small glass sculpture balanced on a sleek table suddenly, inexplicably, began to suffer thin fractures in its clear surface…a few minutes later, it was broken shards scattered on the floor.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Once the door to his private quarters sealed, Qui-Gon rubbed his eyes, wandering to the window.
The sun poured through as warm liquid brilliance on his face, but the prickling cold within his body couldn't be thawed, for the betrayed, stricken look Anakin gave him remained blazed into the forefront of his mind.
"Do I not need your support?"
Qui-Gon sighed, leaning his head into his hand. The lush landscape, inspiration for thousands of starry-eyed poets and lusting romantics, was a grim sight…
Because, despite the disharmony between he and his apprentice, the view was still a sterling mesh of color and nature, a living piece of heaven.
He could see the glitter of dew dripping from delicate, jade leaves; hear the song exalted by crisp chirping.
For Qui-Gon Jinn, Naboo was as glorious as it had ever been.
No longer the spanning, merciless countryside, where each vacant building could house his stolen Obi-Wan, and the possibility of a tomorrow without him weighed on Qui-Gon's thoughts as he gazed out this same window.
Now the palate was a gloss of vibrant hues, from a powdery blue sky to creamy violet. It quenched his soul with unsurpassed beauty.
It was unmarred by the clouds invading his bond with Anakin.
Force, what is wrong with me? Qui-Gon screamed. He ripped away from the taunting picture and sank to the sleepcouch.
His bones throbbed and ached.
Pain split his head.
And, some horrible, wrong, inhumane part of him, embedded in his depths, a wraith nearly invisible to his mind's eye, wanted Anakin to leave.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Padme wiped at her eye, chin cupped by her hand. Her neck felt stiff as she stared down at the jaundiced holo pad, radiating a sour light.
The comm unit buzzed at her elbow.
She spared a second to ponder why she had a faint inkling of the shrill, short sound before it came, then answered.
"Senator Amidala."
A heavy breath, then, "Padme?"
She shoved the glowing pad away and smiled. "Ani." She murmured. "I knew it was you."
"I'm going."
Padme frowned, sitting erect, hand grasping her clenched stomach. "What? You're going?…But your Master told me…"
"I didn't say he was going." Anakin spat. Bitterness streamed through the electronic connection. "He's staying right where he is."
She sighed and leaned back, tired. "Why?"
The apprentice snorted. "Why do you think? That brainless doctor thinks she can cure Kenobi, and of course Master has to be right there beside him every damn minute."
Padme struggled to swallow. Her hand pressed lightly to her throat. "Well, Obi-Wan can't be left alone after major surgery, Ani."
"Maybe." He admitted tightly. "But then why should I have to return to Coruscant? I can be of use here."
"Why do you think he wants you to return?
A pregnant pause. "I don't know. He---He says he doesn't want me to get behind, that I'm just laying around here for no reason."
Padme shifted in her elegant leather chair. "Maybe he's right. You must have other duties to attend to at the Temple."
"Do you want me to leave, Padme?"
She flattened a palm to her hand, feeling his tumult of emotion as keenly as if it were her own. "I love you, Anakin. I think of you so much sometimes I can barely concentrate. When I lay in bed…I wish you were beside me."
"Gods, I want to be there." He swore breathlessly. There was the wet noise of his lips clicking. "I just…don't give a damn about the Temple anymore. You've drowned out everything else in my life. I care about my Master, yes, but not as deeply as I do you, Padme."
Her eyes shone moistly. "Oh… I wish we could throw everything away. My responsibilities, your ties to the Jedi.
"But I've worked my entire life to reach this position. And you've given your life to the Order. I'll love you. I always will. It doesn't have to be the end. But you can't stay on Naboo when the Jedi need you. You're The One, Ani. Don't sacrifice that for me." She was quiet for a beat, contemplating.
"You can have me, and remain a Jedi."
"What're you saying, Padme?" He asked carefully.
"Marry me, Ani." She blurted. "Marry me before you go. That way we'll have each other, even when we're apart. I know the rules. I know you're forbidden. But you're special, Anakin. You're different.
"And no one has to know. " She whispered with a shaking smile.
"Padme." Anakin gasped. "Force, yes. Gods, yes. Let's do it."
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
A soft knock at his door pulled Qui-Gon from his dark reverie. He walked to answer it, unable to erase the worried creases from his face.
Anakin was standing before him. A slim pack was held in his hand. "I'm leaving now." He informed the older man solemnly.
Qui-Gon's rich midnight eyes were shaded. "Alright, Padawan." He touched an arm. "I…I was hard on you."
Anakin shrugged. "Nah. I'm sorry I was so cross with you."
Sounds like something Obi-Wan would say…accepting the blame, refusing my apologies. Warm filled him. "Perhaps we have been worn out. This mission was a trying one. When Knight Kenobi is cleared to come home, we'll spend some time catching up."
The boy couldn't look away from the genuine regret and affection, was aware of the conflict that always seemed to rise. His Master loved him….and Anakin couldn't hate him. Never. "I'd like that, Master."
Qui-Gon pulled him into an embrace. "I don't want you to drift from me, Anakin. I fear that you will."
Anakin brought his arms around the rangy form. "I won't."
Callused hands braced his tanned face. "I don't want you to be a stranger to me."
He was confused by the desperation etched into the noble visage. "I won't be. Why'd you say that?"
Qui-Gon backed away and shook his head.
Anakin had never seen the man so purely sad. But he couldn't move forward to comfort him. So he stood where he was, a statue in the expensive room, separated even in this close proximity to his teacher. There were mere meters between them….but it could have been a raging ocean.
"Its nothing." Qui-Gon negated, beaming with his mouth closed, lines streaking from the corners of his eyes. "Contact me when you land."
Anakin's lip twitched. "Okay, Master."
And the miles of cold waters widened with each retreating step.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Palpatine threw a glance at Maul. "Can you feel it?"
A painted coal lip curled with a low growl. "Yes, my Master. Everything is---moving."
The pallid Sith Lord laughed. "Yes it is. Never so wonderfully and completely." Every word was chilling and perfectly enunciated. "Kenobi is at its core. With each hour, I feel him approaching."
"It can't be that much longer, can it?" Maul asked… dreading the answer.
"As long as the Force deems wise." His hooded eyes strayed from the tattooed protégé. "It only gives us more time to prepare.
"When the moment comes, you will bring him to me, my apprentice."
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Obi-One's fingers twined together, the friction of skin touching skin warmed the outside, but they remained bitterly cold within…and it wasn't a pleasant combination.
He sat rigid on the cot, though the supporting stack of pillows was behind him.
The rattle of some sort of air circulator buzzed in his ears, and he tried to focus on the mechanical reverberations, breathing calmly, and the sound of steady gusts blowing out the parted gate of his teeth absorbed his attention too. He wanted the distractions to swell in this room, so that he must thrust his worries away.
But eventually, the machine completed its conditioning cycle, and deadened with one last, loud groan.
He swallowed, heart clenching up at the quickening steps toward silence. Almost panicked, Obi-One tapped the smooth, metal border of the bed.
Qui-Gon, the man who claimed to love him as any father would, and was steadfast at his side during this horrible, confusing ordeal, had left to speak with his apprentice.
He was alone.
Obi-One thrummed the hard surface faster.
From the moment he woke to this utter darkness, engulfing his mind and spreading over his eyes, there had been a single constant.
Fear.
Trembling faintly in his limbs, sour tasting in his mouth. Stalking him in shadowed dreams.
I'm always afraid. Moisture stung his eyes, trailing cool down his cheek. And I'm a burden. To Qui-Gon, to Qui-Gon's apprentice. He must feel so ignored…
Obi-One cleared his throat and blinked. This has to work.
Or my life's over.
He fell against the pillows.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon slipped into the room, his slick boots treading soft in his graceful, light way. He could be an incredibly commanding presence, if it was his wont or duty. He could part a crowd with the determined furrow of his brow; scatter a bloodthirsty, conscienceless gang by his sheer size alone…
Or, he could meld into the scenery, a chameleon of sorts, appearing as meek and harmless as one could possibly believe. Someone could walk past him without registering his dampened presence at all.
But, whether taking advantage of his considerable stature, talent for projecting a subdued nature, or disappearing somewhere between the two, Qui-Gon Jinn could never disguise himself from Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Even now.
"I'm glad you're back." The young man said, mouth untouched by what Qui-Gon perceived to be relief. His face was, as always, a marriage of intensity and gentle beauty, forehead forever on the brink of creasing, eyes coated in quivering liquid that was the closest living definition of stardust.
The deciding factor was the pair of sculpted, nearly thin lips. They ruled the mood of his visage…as the former mirrors of his soul were closed off by the buzzing ruby blade a decade before…
Dancing grin.
Serious, still, compressed stretch.
Guarded smile.
This…absence of emotion puzzled the Master, and as he approached the beside, he felt a familiar ache in his chest.
Obi-Wan's head leaned minutely toward the sound of his movements. "Was your apprentice angered?"
Qui-Gon sank into the adjacent chair and loosely crossed his legs. "He was…disappointed. But he's a good boy…" man? "He understood his efforts are needed elsewhere. He's leaving shortly for home."
Home. Obi-One found he was bringing his fingers in a tangle again. "Will we be following?"
Qui-Gon reached out to brush a hand along the outline of his temple. "Yes. I'm not sure how soon, but yes."
Obi-One nodded, useless eyes falling shut.
Qui-Gon's, still very much potent and attentive, remained on him. "Are you anxious about the surgery, Obi-Wan?" He asked, a little too bluntly, he thought, once he heard it released to the air.
Obi-One was motionless in the downy, bleached surroundings of his hospital bed. Suddenly, he looked ill with weariness. "Yes." He admitted, and breathed in. "But I'm also eager.
"To let everything return to normal for everyone." To let you get on with your own life.
Qui-Gon frowned. "What d'you mean?"
Obi-One tipped his head to the other side, as if escaping the questioning gaze he couldn't see. Strands of his hair left identical shadows on his skin. "I want everything of my life back. I know that. But more…I want you and your apprentice to be able to move forward."
The hulking man draped his arm tenderly around the lamenting figure. "Anakin hasn't been…inconvenienced by all this. He is Jedi, and is concerned for your welfare, as I am.
"Besides, he has his own business to attend to. He won't be bored while I'm here with you."
Obi-One nodded, but the dispirited expression lingered. "What about you?"
Qui-Gon just smiled. "I've told you. I would do anything for you…and never regret a moment spent doing it. After you were promoted, after the battle on Naboo…we didn't visit often. I'm grateful, despite the circumstances, to be here with you."
A warm hand covered his. Obi-One hesitated before curling his fingers around it. It was difficult to accept the explanation without questioning the depth of its truth. He was in desperate shape here. It was only a cruel person who would voice the negative feelings of their heart to him now.
And he knew, if nothing else, that Qui-Gon Jinn was NOT a cruel person.
But, while still grasping to some misgivings, Obi-One grasped the offered hand.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Padme stood beside her desk chair, a slender, cold hand resting on the rich suede.
The last words she spoke echoed in her mind, the weight of them only now becoming known to her. From the vantage point of thereafter, the hasty proposal sounded so impulsive and….childish.
Fingers trailing along her belly, as they so very often did in recent days, Padme was astonished to remember that she was an entrusted Senator of this beautiful, significant world. Would she have so readily leaped into supporting a treaty, or advising Jamilla concerning a new bill?
Staring with glazed, dark eyes unfocused at the soft sweep of deep navy-colored carpet, Padme Amidala sighed. Was it really her heart that led her blindly into this impossible arrangement?
She slid a violet, transparent jacket over a shimmering sleeveless dress of purple that circled her elegant throat, clung snugly to her bosom and midsection, before streaking out in a creased skirt that brushed against her ankles.
The woman wondered how much longer she could fit in her personally tailored, indulgent attire. How many months she could project the image that nothing had changed…
When, in fact, everything had.
Swiping a curl out of her face, Padme quietly contacted her assistant. "Meri, please ask Mr. Dane to bring a small transport to the entrance."
"Right away, Milady. Do you require the company of Dorme'?"
The politician allowed herself a brief smile. Her devoted handmaiden had been scantly in her presence recently, assigned to various locations to throw off any possible assailants. Padme was always worried for her friend's safety.
Too many members of her entourage either ended their services or had been injured in the attempts on the Naboo Senator's life. Sabe' had left a few years before, and the hole her absence left was difficult to deal with. She was lucky to have Dorme'. If only she had the time to be sure her double knew that. "No, Meri. But…tell her that I've missed her company. I will speak with her as soon as I can."
"Yes, Milady."
Padme stood in the ensuing silence. Stars…This is actually happening.
It was a slim minute she had to register her shock. Meri announced her driver's arrival, and Padme hurried to meet him.
The sun beamed down golden on the street, Dane's protective eyewear catching the gleam. "Good day, Senator." He greeted.
Padme gave him a fond smile. "Good day, Dane. Thank you for your speed. I…can't be late."
Dane nodded, glancing at her over his broad shoulder. "And you won't be." He grinned.
"Thank you." She gazed out the tinted window.
The chauffeur chuckled. "Were you planning on telling me where you'll be going?"
"Oh." She blushed, without a trace of humor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dane. Theed Castle."
And the small vessel came cleanly to animation, riding along the road, toward the site of her secret nuptials.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Anakin's hands were clenched behind his back, his legs spread marginally apart, his shoulders squared beneath the black leather tunic. The glittering water rippling softly beyond the ancient pillars reflected the glow of the afternoon sun in broken shards, and stray droplets moistened the clusters of greenery.
He remembered his mother standing at his bedside, hair tied away from her weary, creased, beautiful face. Her skin gleamed in the darkness, burned by the years toiling in the height of simmering Tatooine heat. A hardened hand stroked his small, grimy cheek.
"My sweet boy." Shmi murmured with her endearing, familiar smile. She trailed her tanned finger along the tiny bridge of his nose, causing the child to wrinkle it with a quiet giggle.
His bed was tucked away in a wall of his room, and Anakin loved the semi-privacy of the location, the way it was occasionally shaded on cooler days. He was barely given the chance to hide away, constantly at work in Watto's cramped, greasy little shop, or scraping together enough food so his Mother was saved from the further exertion of cooking, or repairing his own (sometimes faulty) creations, including C3-PO, his only real friend outside Kitster.
The other kids that played on the dunes, with their jealous eyes and hidden whispers, laughed at him. At first, he was hurt, so badly his chest ached, and he would dash home, tears streaking his face, and his hands fisted tight. He would throw himself upon his lumpy bed and cry long and bitterly.
Now he matched their hateful glares with his, and learned to embrace the pain of his rejection, because it made him feel…stronger.
He gazed up at his lone parent, and his heart welled with love. She would never cast him aside, or sneer at him for his perceived differences. Her affection was unconditional.
"What's the matter?" She asked, traces of a frown crossing over her face, and concern tingeing her faintly accented voice.
Anakin quirked his lips. "Nothing." His wide, pale eyes were loyal, and she didn't sense his sad reminisces. It was better not to give her reason to worry. "Tell me about that place."
Shmi laughed lightly. "Again? I've told you a million times, Ani!"
"But it sounds new every time, mom." He countered, though he knew she was teasing, as she faithfully did each night.
She smoothed his messy, corn silk mane. "Well, I suppose a million and one won't hurt anything."
Anakin beamed, and snuggled deep beneath the covers.
Shmi lowered to the frame of his bed and folded her hands on her knees, a gleaming fondness overcoming her chestnut eyes. "There's a land that I passed through once, as a young girl, when I was sold to a new master. The ship had to be stopped for emergency attention, so I and a few others were forced to vacate. We were chained, of course, but it didn't matter.
"As soon as I saw that place, so bright and clean, I knew I'd never seen somewhere so lovely. The sky was such a clear blue, like your eyes, " And she paused to brush along the lids, "The ocean was a thousand colors, and these gorgeous sea animals would rise from the waves. Animals with happy, laughing calls that filled the air. Birds flew so close to the water it must have wet their wings, but they didn't seem to be in any danger. Life forms existed in harmony.
"There were flowers everywhere, all in bloom, and lending this wonderful scent that remained in my clothes and hair for days afterward.
"We were there but a few hours, but it was the best experience of my life." Shmi touched his forehead. "Until the gods blessed me with you. I often dream that I am returned to that perfect world, and you are beside me, and we run along the grassy hills, and swim in those waters."
She smiled ruefully. "And we would stay there forever."
Anakin sighed and sat up, wrapping his short arms around her. "One day we'll be there, mom."
Shmi pressed a kiss on the crown of his head. "I pray that we will, my son. But for now," She lay him back and pulled the thin sheet around his chin, "We have our dreams."
Anakin had to turn away from the scene of pristine nature, wiping at his tearing eyes. Today he would marry the woman he loved.
And his mother wouldn't know, let alone witness the ceremony.
She was working in the blistering torridity of the desert, or eating alone at the crumbling kitchen table…or, maybe, dreaming of her world, where she was free of the shackles of slavery, and her beloved son was alongside her.
"I wish you were here, mom." He whispered in the stillness. "I wish you could know Padme, and Master Qui-Gon, and…" A choking sob was wrenched from his throat, and the Padawan swallowed hard, grasping the railing. "I miss you."
The sound of a halting transport broke his sorrow, and he stood straight, blinking.
I love you, mom And you're here…in my memory.
He heard footsteps nearing.
In my heart.
~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
Qui-Gon leaned his bearded chin into his palm, eyes closed. Dr. Gale had come and gone, offering a flash of comforting smile to the Master and kind, assuring words to her patient, but Qui-Gon could detect the cloud of anxiety in her warm violet eyes. She truly cared for Obi-Wan, and the upcoming procedure would be daunting for anyone. He sent low waves of Force toward her spirit. Ungifted by the powerful entity, she nevertheless could be eased by the suggestion.
As he expected, Mazella stopped for a moment, taut shoulders lowering.
He hoped the favor lasted.
Obi-Wan had been withdrawn since their emotionally-wrenching talk, reclined with his hands folded on his middle. The atmosphere surrounding him remained bright from his inherent purity through the Force, but was otherwise muddled by the unshielded feelings streaming through.
Despite Qui-Gon's efforts to bolster the uncertain man, fear and shades of doubt were thick in the room.
Perhaps they don't all belong to him. He admitted inwardly, rubbing fingers across his eyes. Obi-Wan's mind was precious, cradled by a loving Force and untainted by darkness. Even with his past erased, his personality endured.
What if it goes wrong? What if in trying to regain his memories, he loses even more? Cold prickling rushed over Qui-Gon's body. Mazella's qualified…but that can't guarantee the surgery will be completely successful.
He ran a hand through gray-streaked hair. Force, what if…
"Qui-Gon?"
An unusually timid voice spoke, jarring him before he could finish the morbid thought. Grateful, Qui-Gon turned to the slightly pale form. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-One breathed out slowly, then compressed his lips. "There's a chance…things could go quite wrong…isn't there?"
Qui-Gon was surprised by the pained smile the question brought to his face. Our minds were always on the same page. "There's a narrow chance that complications could arise. But that's true of any procedure."
Obi-One paused before nodding.
Qui-Gon edged forward and laid a hand on his arm. "Your doctor is the best in her field. She wouldn't allow this at all unless she was completely confident."
"I know." He answered quietly.
"Then what's wrong?" Qui-Gon rubbed the arm gently. Without sight or their bond, physical solace was the best he could offer.
"I--Can you tell me another--story? About my apprenticeship?" A blush lined his cheeks. "I didn't want to ask, but…if I don't respond to this…or…"
Qui-Gon touched his finger to Obi-One's quivering mouth. He hated to see the embarrassment and apprehension marring the soft face. "Don't worry about that."
Obi-One gulped down the growing dread in his throat. "I want to think of a good time…if that's all I'll have…if everything ends up taken from me."
Qui-Gon shook his head, pulling the shaking figure into his arms. "Oh Obi-Wan."
The body, pressed up close to his, jerked with pent-up consternation, chilled in the paper-thin hospital gown.
Qui-Gon was almost overcome with grief. "Settle down." He urged unevenly. "I'll be watching over you. I love you.
"I'll tell you about the moment I knew."
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^
Sabotage.
He should have sensed it, should have suspected something when the pilot backed out at the last moment, insisting that the young Jedi student test his ample skills.
Qui-Gon's protest was silenced by the eager twinkle in his apprentice's sea-washed eyes, though the youth didn't speak a word, his stance passive, two steps backward and one to the right of his Master's considerable shoulder.
The planet isn't so far from here. He reasoned, focus flickering over The Twilight Dance's unwilling captain. "Why would you trust your lovely vessel to a child?" He asked, not completely silencing the skepticism in his rumbling, accented voice.
The man, with narrow, nearly feminine features disguised by a burly black beard, shrugged. "Hey, I've been bouncing around this damned galaxy for months, pal. I'd like 'ta spend some of these credits I've had pilin' up for all that time." He grinned and nudged the Master lightly in the flank. "Been itching for some of that good blue…"
A hard look from Qui-Gon steered the rest of his comment elsewhere.
"Blue juice." He finished, laughing nervously, glancing at the fifteen year old boy whose bright eyes had yet to leave him. "Don't touch that other stuff. Especially bein' a pilot and all."
Qui-Gon nodded absently. "Since we need a…humble arrival on Lestar II, I suppose this arrangement would be satisfactory."
The man couldn't contain his happiness at the decision. "That's great. Hey, your price'll go down big time. Just hafta pay for usin' the old girl."
Qui-Gon slipped a clean, slim billfold from an inner layer of his tunic. "That's fine."
Once the money was exchanged, the captain shook both their hands enthusiastically, then trotted down the opened hatch.
Qui-Gon watched him go, frowning slightly.
Obi-Wan waited for the swaggering form to disappear into the distance before he spoke. "That's curious."
The Master brought in the ramp with a Force-enhanced wave of his hand. He walked through the meager bowels, ignoring the stacks of rusting silver boxes and other clutter. "Yes."
The Padawan followed him into the cramped cockpit. "Well, it's a good thing he left. We wouldn't have been able to fit everyone in this little clunker."
Qui-Gon inspected the board of dials and flashing lights carefully, finger poised on his chin. "Everything appears to be in order."
Obi-Wan moved closer. He swallowed. "Then, do I get to pilot?"
Midnight blue eyes didn't lift from the control panel. "It was only his suggestion, Padawan. And I wouldn't consider his opinion to be a valued one."
Obi-Wan retreated the few steps he had taken, his mouth forming a whispered "Oh."
Qui-Gon turned around and smiled. "But I trust my own, mostly. So get comfortable." He gestured to the pilot's threadbare chair.
From the widening of Obi-Wan's eyes, one would have thought it was a golden throne. A grin split his face. "Thank you, Master." He said, serenely and ever-reverent of his teacher.
Qui-Gon reached out to place a hesitant hand on his student's shoulder. "Just remember a pilot's responsibilities, young one."
Obi-Wan plopped into the seat and looked slyly at Qui-Gon. "Okay. I'll stay away from the 'blue juice'."
Qui-Gon smirked. "Cheeky."
The Padawan chuckled before absorbing his attention entirely on his task.
Qui-Gon found he was still standing there, observing the boy's work, long after he intended. Shaking his head, he strode into the adjoining, and only, private quarters.
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^
A strong shake catapulted him from his shallow sleep.
Qui-Gon sat up, and almost flew over the side of the bolted bed when another fierce rocking seized The Twilight Dance.
Grasping to the wall, he made it slowly to the door. He could see Obi-Wan standing at the controls, calmly manipulating back-up switches…but…it seemed….to no avail.
Qui-Gon felt too groggy from a mere nap, he rubbed at his face. "Obi-Wan! What's happening?!" He shouted.
Obi-Wan wheeled around. The color had drained from him. "I don't know, Master. We've penetrated the planet's atmosphere, but now the ship's…The engine's failing. And back-up too."
Qui-Gon was a blur, dashing to the panel while the small transport quaked. The illuminated buttons had dimmed totally, and the lighting was close behind.
Obi-Wan's eyes darted around the darkening space. He ignited his saber to provide an azure glow, breathing heavily. "Master..I feel…"
"Cut off." The man supplied grimly. "So do I." He stepped back from the dead controls, and looked over at his apprentice. "The comm units won't work either."
"We have no way to warn the people below." Obi-Wan realized, real fear dawning in his face.
Qui-Gon grabbed his arm. "Don't worry about what we can't change." The base of a Jedi mantra fell habitually from his lips as he lumbered toward the bedroom, keeping Obi-Wan ahead of him.
Before the door even sealed The Twilight Dance began to plummet. Qui-Gon pushed his apprentice to the ground, covering the slighter body with his, flushed cheeks pressed.
"Master…" A muffled murmur came urgently.
Qui-Gon tightened his flowing robe around them both. "Padawan. Stay limp as you can. You'll sustain less injuries that way."
His orders could barely be heard, with the loud crashes bombarding the failing ship.
"Yes…Master…" Obi-Wan replied dutifully. He gripped the neckline of his mentor's tunic.
Qui-Gon looked down at the frantic, suddenly small and piercingly innocent face.
"I love you." The child confessed, tears quivering in his gaze. "I love you."
Qui-Gon wanted to speak, but the air was stolen from him as The Twilight Dance collided with the unyielding ground.
All he could do was hug his Padawan to him, and shut his eyes.
Oblivion rushed up to meet the pair, black, smothering and promising nothing.
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^
A throbbing pain had collected in his head, and traveled down the lean column of his neck, burning at the curve where it met the arch of his shoulders. He recognized the symptom.
This hadn't been his first crash landing, after all.
Just the most harrowing.
Cautiously, Qui-Gon lifted a single eyelid, stinging moisture welling with the scant movement. The Force was as elusive as it had been during the rough descent. It remained a shadow. He could sense it, but barely feel it.
The absence left him cold.
He shifted his head, and discovered it was bandaged and cushioned by a soft surface, as was his entire, long body. Hospital? His mind was muddled, surrounded by a fog that could only be lifted through reconnection with the Force.
His stomach, and heart, fell. Obi…Wan?
Qui-Gon worked to open his eyes, revealing the dingy interior of The Twilight Dance. He blinked. How? But his initial curiosity was outweighed by taut worry for his young apprentice. Without the unifying energy to connect them, he had no idea, not even an ill-defined guess, as to the wellbeing of Obi-Wan.
And he needed to stand up.
The deafening din of the ship's strain, along with the smashing impact of its loose contents, echoed in his ears now.
"I love you."
The sweet, honest words had been the last before unconsciousness claimed him. Privately, he had believed they were the final he would ever hear, and he let them repeat as his Padawan clung to him, like a child grappling for warmth, forgetting in the ferocious, insane whirlwind that Obi-Wan WAS a child…
Qui-Gon swept to his feet, hand bracing his head as a strong wave of dizziness assaulted him. The burned stench that wafted up from the attached room thickened the tongue dry in his mouth.
"Obi-Wan!" He called, the sheer volume of his voice slicing through his head. He stumbled into the main area.
The lids from the storage boxes had been thrown to the side. Shards of broken material littered the ground. Though the scent lingered, the air was clear of smoke.
His chest tightened. How…long? "Obi-Wan! Padawan, answer me!" There was a ring of authority to the command.
"…master?" A small, trembling reply came, and Qui-Gon headed toward it, swallowing the burst of nausea that his anxiety borne. The ship's opening was bashed and beaten in.
From the look of it, someone had to manually force the hatch down.
He walked along the crushed ramp, the alien world bathed in the grays and bleeding pinks of dusk. Skeletal trees loomed, and cast spiny shadows on the dirt ground…shading the huddled form of his Padawan.
Qui-Gon slowed. "Obi-Wan?" He said, softer now, the urgency eased.
Obi-Wan glanced up with pale, moist, filmy eyes. It seemed to take an elongated moment for him to identify his teacher. When he did, he surged to his feet. "Master, you shouldn't be up yet! You suffered a-a concussion. You were delirious and---"
Qui-Gon traced his large, rough hand lightly along the outline of his cheek, calming him. Burgundy was spilling from a deep gash across the youth's left temple, drenched in his brow. The wound was bordered by black clusters of aged blood. Dark bruises splotched his face. Half his tunic had been ripped away, to form the dressings for Qui-Gon's injury. "Obi-Wan, how much time has passed since you woke?"
Obi-Wan blinked, his gaze becoming distant and unfocused, mouth moving silently. His feet were bare, leggings slashed nearly to his thighs. His flat, naked stomach heaved in tune with his breathing.
Qui-Gon held his upper arms steadily.
"Three days." Obi-Wan rasped at last. He pulled himself away and touched the makeshift ligature around his Master's head, shaking. "I-I-I think it needs changing. I-I'll change it." He muttered to himself, beginning to unravel another layer of his creamy, stained top.
"No." He halted the frenetic fingers. Obi-Wan stared up at him, confused.
"I'm fine, Obi-Wan. You took very good care of me." He smiled through his mounting disquiet, smoothing the sweat-slicked hair.
Obi-Wan twisted the frayed strip of material in his hands, the setting sun leaving a tender orange radiance on his perspiring face. His eyes darted back and forth, fixed on the gritty forest floor. "Nooo…I let the ship crash…And I went outside to s-see where we were…And there was this nest of…of birds. The mother was…smashed. She died and her…babies were crying…They were so small…"
Qui-Gon took him by the shoulders . "Obi-Wan, we were set up. There're Force-repressors stashed somewhere in the ship. The engine was timed to malfunction. There was nothing either of us could've done. But you saved me."
Obi-Wan inhaled weakly. "I didn't know…if you were going to make it. I stayed with you. A-And I couldn't sleep, because what if you…what if you…" Tears rolled down his battered face.
Qui-Gon hooked his hands under Obi-Wan's arms and lifted him. Obi-Wan tried to squirm out of his hold. "No.. They're still here. They n-need me."
And then the Master saw them. A tiny group of infant kosdas, chirping with impossibly diminutive, hooked beaks. Their snowy fur was mussed, and beady, black eyes blinked up at the Jedi.
Qui-Gon looked back at Obi-Wan. "I'll watch them while you rest."
"N-No." Obi-Wan refused, with wide, panicked eyes. "You need to rest…t-to get better…I can't lose you…"
Qui-Gon started inside. "You're not going to lose me, Padawan." He murmured, barely able to talk with the choking emotion rising in him.
Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the older man's neck. "I CAN'T lose you…"
Qui-Gon had to galvanize himself in order to cross the room, fighting the tenacious efforts of the Force-suppressors. "You won't lose me, Obi-Wan…" He lowered the boy to the bed, and tore bands of his own tunic off.
The apprentice tried to sit up.
Qui-Gon pushed him down on the pillow with little exertion. He dabbed the dark blood from the strained face. "But I don't want to lose you, either."
Obi-Wan sniffed. "I'm….tired." He whispered
Qui-Gon brought him into the circle of his gentle embrace, sitting him on his legs and cradling the traumatized head on his chest. "Then sleep. I'll take over. You've been a…hero."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "No…"
"Yes." Qui-Gon ghosted his lips across the ginger hair. "And I love you too."
Without uttering a reply, the Padawan gripped him, more tears falling .
It wasn't a minute before he had drifted off, surrendering to the exhaustion.
Qui-Gon held him.
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^
Obi-One smiled, eyes stinging with moisture. "I--I really did that?" He asked, disbelief soft in his tone, flush lining his cheeks.
Qui-Gon looked at his face, and saw, as he always did, the glimpses of the vibrant child this man had once been. The compassionate ways he retained, even now, that glinted in his eyes. "Yes." Qui-Gon confirmed with a chuckle. "I had never known anyone, young or otherwise, with such incredible courage."
"How'd we get out of that mess?"
"Well, a group of nomads happened upon the wreckage, and they were kind enough to share some herbal medicines to speed your recovery. By the time we reached civilization, you were mostly coherent, and cradling the little birds in what was left of your tunic." He smoothed a ginger hair into place. "It was later discovered that a dissident group paid the pilot to set up the malfunction. So he was given a sum for his trouble, the ship, and for our use of the vessel. "
Obi-One snorted. "I guess he could afford a hefty share of 'blue juice' after all that. " He quipped.
Qui-Gon's mouth fell slightly open. "Gods, Obi-Wan."
The man creased his forehead. "What?"
He covered his mouth, laughing. "That's exactly what you said when I first told you, twenty years ago."
Obi-One dropped his head on the pillow and grinned widely, dimples curving around his stretched mouth.
"I suppose some things never change." Qui-Gon concluded, wiping at his wet eyes. "You'll always be cheeky."
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
Anakin stood straight, his hands numb along with his mind. Force.
Padme Amidala had been walking toward him, but she stopped in an ancient alcove, staring at him with eyes pooled deep chestnut. The sun streamed in a warm orange band across her face. Her curled hair spilled over her shoulders.
She slowly smiled, dewy lips shining, a strange shyness overcoming her.
Anakin's heart thundered. He felt the need to capture her in his arms, claim that mouth until the fever of his passion was depleted and he could collapse in the perfect, luscious presence of her.
But at the same time, he was rendered motionless by the sight of this... His Padme.
The trickling water gently permeated the quiet. Padme began to head toward him, a yearning open on her face. Anakin hastened to meet her.
She hesitated, looking up at him with pale uncertainty.
"Padme." He breathed, and trailed her jaw down to her chin, eyes intense.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ani."
The kiss was long, lasting through tears that formed in their closed eyes.
His hands fell to the curve of her waist while hers caressed his thick, sandy hair.
The Force twined around them, pulling them further into the madness of the moment.
But it was marred by the shadows of a different side of the omnipotent entity. One without the beauty of righteousness.
The shaded form that resided in the soul of Anakin Skywalker, that crept into the spirit of Padme Amidala.
Their lips melded once more, and only strengthened it.
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
Obi-One's hand went to his chest, a frown transforming his face.
Qui-Gon leaned toward him. "Obi-Wan? What's wrong?"
He shook his head and swallowed, nearly choking in the process. "I-I don't know…I can't…understand what I feel…"
The Master calmed the fearful reaction in his heart, then braced Obi-One's temples. "Where is it coming from?"
Obi-One squeezed the bedsheets between his fingers. "Ins-side…but not from m-me…"
Understanding dawned in Qui-Gon grimly. He took the quivering Knight in his embrace, trying to still him. "It's alright. I know what you're feeling."
Obi-One gripped the broad back. "Wh-What is it?"
"I feel it too." He comforted. "It's the Force. But you can't control it without training. Do you remember when I told you about it?"
Obi-One nodded, grimacing as another wave went through him.
Qui-Gon tightened his hold. "Just try to relax."
He trembled as the darkness that coated his sight seemed to engulf his entire body. "Do you feel…It's bad, is---isn't it?"
Qui-Gon cupped his head protectively. "Yes." He agreed in a husky voice. But why is it so…familiar?
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
"Mmmph..Ani…we should…" Padme broke the kiss, but only shallowly, their breath warm and intermixing. "We should stop."
Anakin raked his fingers through her rich, dark hair. "I don't want to stop. Never."
She sighed and settled against his muscled body.
The perfume of nature ran light through the air, and filled Padme's senses. It smelled of safety and security. She breathed it in, for stability wasn't guaranteed in the murky uncertainty of their shared future.
"Excuse me."
A subdued, uneasy voice interrupted the heated lust. The lovers separated, though their hands lingered in a hooking of sweaty fingers.
The priest was clothed in black, a layer of gray thinly covering his head. He possessed kind features and a slender build. "I assume you're the woman who contacted me this afternoon?" The man asked with a small, knowing smile. A young woman, dressed simply in a gray gown, stood beside him, acting as witness to the private event.
Padme clasped Anakin's hands. "Yes. Thank you for coming so quickly."
He tilted his head in recognition. "Well, it's my place in life. To tend to such needs at a moment's notice. And it's my pleasure, Madam."
Padme beamed.
The Priest motioned to a lovely arch overseeing the glittering waters. "Now, if we could begin."
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
When the last, soft words were spoken, and the holy man closed the velvet book, Anakin inhaled, cold bumps racing up his body.
Padme gazed up with moist eyes, mascara deluding in sooty clouds on her lashes. Through trembling lips, she managed to grin, and Anakin noticed for the first time the endearing, crooked quality of that smile.
He dragged his hands down her arms. "Love you."
Padme craned her neck to reach his ready mouth. "Forever."
A snowy white bird glided through the cloudless, azure sky, and the Priest glanced at his companion, exchanging silently their reaction to the almost unseemly perfection of the event.
^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^
Mere miles away, Qui-Gon had no idea of the monumental changes of the passing moments.
The sun began to set, ushering in a calm twilight…that would lead to darkness.