Don't know how many people have stuck around this far…It's been about a year since I started this…But I just wanted to say how much I appreciate those who read and review. It gives me so much joy to hear what others think about my ideas and how I've written them out. Thanks. -LuvEwan
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Chapter Thirteen: The Trials of the Present
Once in a while
I slip back to my past
Where I long to remain
But the dream does not last
In the trials of the present
No matter how low
You bring me such peace
And you won't let me go…
Oh don't let me go. - Hans Zimmer/Gavin Greenaway
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Mejant's breath caught in her throat.
The figure descending the ramp was surely Obi-Wan--the sleek auburn hair and glittering eyes proved that--but his body had become gaunt during his time away. He had always been compact and slender, yet there was a defined physique that ebbed any notion of weakness.
His tunic layers were tied snugly around his midsection, drawing her focus to the loss of both weight and muscle mass. Her heart contracted. Force, Obi, what have you been through?
Obi-Wan's fingers rested lightly on his former Master's forearm, to guide him, and her uneasiness increased, recalling the frequent occasions when he would protest such aid.
She took a few steps forward. But he's here. He's here and he's safe. Master Jinn told me it would be a gradual process…
Qui-Gon glanced at the female Knight, then moved his gaze to Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan, someone's here to meet you."
Obi-One's hand was clammy against his skin. "Do I…Do I remember them?"
Qui-Gon sent a pale wave of Force-laced reassurance to him. "That I can't say. Maybe through the bits and pieces, you have."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, as Obi-One felt a strange stir in his heart, in his mind. It consumed him, a presence that was fresh today, but he could recognize as something that resided within him from the start. A hidden flame during bitter freeze, the shroud suddenly torn away.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon braced his shoulders briefly, "This is Mejant Brei."
Mejant's chocolate eyes were wide and swimming in tears. He had to introduce us. She stared at the face, caressing the features without a touch.
She gasped, embracing him, pulling him tight against her.
"Oh Obi-Wan. Oh sweet force Obi-Wan." Moisture ran down her cheeks. She grasped the back of his head with small, trembling hands.
Obi-One felt a divine instinct rush through his body, and he wrapped his arms around the warm, slight form.
Memories came hurdling into his consciousness. Laughter and kisses, errant shreds of a fight and full remembrance of the easy forgiveness that came after.
"I love you, Obi-Wan."
"I love you…"
"I love you." Mejant murmured against his neck with an accompanying swirl of hot breath.
Obi-One's lips quivered. "I love you." He combed his fingers through long silk hair, then traced down her arms and moved back up to frame her face, tears flooding his eyes all the while.
Mejant struggled to swallow. "O-Obi-Wan?"
An overwhelmed smile. "Mejant."
The name became a lyric softly voiced, and she knew they weren't strangers.
Because out of every name in existence, hers was the only to be spoken with that harmonious, silvery affection.
"I remember you." He told her hoarsely. "I hear you in my dreams. I hear you in my dreams and wake wanting you to be there--"
Mejant hugged him again, pressing her lips to his immediately pliant mouth.
He kissed her back with the passion of days spent in an awful twilight.
Obi-One had known there was a glow somewhere inside him--he was just unable to see it.
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Anakin stood outside the comm booth, his arms crossed against the sleek, black leather tunic, impatience thrumming near his surface.
The lower levels of Coruscant were polluted with every kind of degenerate in existence. Crooked peddlers, prostitutes, slobs and general low-lives. They clogged the streets, left the air stagnant and smelling permanently of stale smoke. Rail-thin women tipping a shoulder, so that the twisted strap of their dress fell to a more sultry position. Stubby old men ambling along, their hollow, dark eyes taking turns between staring at the flagrant, stimulating displays and the familiar comfort of a green-tinted glass bottle.
Children tugging at their mother's raggedy skirt, throwing up their arms wearily, so that maybe they could rest for awhile in hers.
His gaze softened as he watched a tiny girl with dirty, golden pigtails reach for a plump muja fruit, balanced at the edge of a selling cart.
With a nonchalant flick of his hand, the desired morsel toppled into her waiting hands.
He watched her expression of pure, innocent delight, and for a moment was transported to Tatooine again, remembering the burst of cool juice in his parched mouth, wiping the moisture from his chin with a swipe of a grubby forearm.
Smiling faintly, he turned back to the occupied booth.
A young man was inside, leaning against one of the transparent walls, talking to someone, a smirk on his face.
Anakin breathed out heavily through his nostrils. Oh come on… He studied the tattered clothing and crooked expression. Who would want to talk to YOU for so long in the first place?
Disdain passing over his visage, he waved his hand once more. "I have to go now." He murmured.
And was echoed promptly by the other man, who proceeded to end his lengthy conversation with rude, involuntary abruptness.
He walked out with a mist of confusion present in his eyes.
Anakin snorted, closing himself into the tall cubicle. He entered a long series of digits and then waited for a response.
His stomach churned. Every time.
A delicate voice answered. "Hello?" Less than a beat later, "Ani?"
Anakin grinned widely, his chest tight. "Yeah, it's me. How are you?"
"I'm…I'm doing the best I can. It's hard to be so far from you."
He grew somber, as the exhilaration of hearing her voice ebbed, and the reality of their situation donned. "I know. Some days I can hardly stand it." The Padawan gazed out, imaging the supple perfection of Naboo in place of smog and murky skies. "Some days I wish I could just…go to you."
Her own longing was palpable. "I wish it too." Padme assured him, and her very tone was soothing. "But…"
"I know." Anakin interrupted. "Gods, I know."
A thick silence spread across the connection, then "My Master is finally arriving today."
"That's wonderful, Ani. I know how much you've missed him."
Anakin sealed his eyes. "It's bad enough just trying to survive without you. Being at the Temple without him…I liked the independence…"
"But not the loneliness." She supplied, able to sense the direction of his thoughts easier as time wore on. "That's understandable. I mean, without Dorme to keep me company, I'd probably go crazy here. Sometimes I think I'm crazy to stay."
"Then I guess we're both insane." He teased with a bittersweet smile.
She chuckled lightly. "One of the many things we have in common…No wonder I love you so much."
"I love you too."
Padme hesitated, torn between speaking the words burning on her lips and remaining on safer ground. "Did Qui-Gon tell you anything about Obi-Wan's condition? I've been worried about him."
Anakin sighed. Of course. "Master says he's fine."
"…Oh. Well…Did everything work out okay? I've only heard a basic report, that the surgery seemed successful."
Then why do you need to know more? "Qui-Gon told me he's getting some of his memories back already."
"Already? I'm so relieved."
And Anakin could tell that she was. His jaw set. "I have to get back. Master should be there by now."
"Okay." Padme's voice lowered. "I love you, Ani."
He swallowed his irritation, focusing on the passion that still existed between them ,despite the separating parsecs. "I love you. I miss you, Padme. I'll talk to you again as soon as I can."
"I know you will. Bye."
"Bye."
Anakin stood in the booth, his eyes closed.
" If you push the right buttons, at the right time, you can take back what's yours."
"What's mine." He mumbled absently.
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Qui-Gon watched them, arms entwined and weepy eyes sealed. She was forced to stand on tip-toe, he leaned slightly downward out of instinct.
The aura surrounding them was laced with deep, veritable affection, a warmth that radiated from the reunited pair in a soft kaleidoscope of color. Faded rose and ivory, threads of yellow.
It was a beautiful sight within the Force, and not even the most gifted Jedi could permeate the tender web hovering around the Knights.
Qui-Gon thought that perhaps he should step into the corridor, but found himself entranced by the pure happiness echoing from their hearts. A healthy flush imbued Obi-Wan's face, and the Master was contented by the absence of his usual sickly-white pallor. His strength, too, seemed more rejuvenated. He held to Mejant with trembling tautness, pressing his lips to her forehead.
The events of Naboo felt as though they were imbedded far in the past, for one who was so recently receiving tender comfort could not possibly be providing it so soon.
Obi-Wan's hands slicked through her glossy black hair, his breaths coming in steady pants, overwhelmed.
Qui-Gon decided that now he must turn from them, and he walked into the hallway.
He stood there, realizing that sometimes life truly did come full circle.
As a Master, he taught Obi-Wan the ways of the Force and the world, nurturing him and protecting him, until the Padawan began his own, independent journey.
Now, he was aware this new cycle was nearly complete.
Obi-Wan would recover. Obi-Wan would leave him.
Blinking away the ridiculous sheen of moisture over his eyes, Qui-Gon was startled at the smile that broke onto his face.
But it isn't exactly the same, is it?
No.
Because this time, I'll still be here when he needs me.
The all-too-familiar guilt roiled in his belly, the stench of burnt flesh rising in memory, rising to his senses. IF he needs me.
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With a shivery, painful reluctance, Mejant broke from the kiss, her moist lips quaking.
She could see that Obi-Wan didn't understand the abrupt separation. His hands lingered on her shoulders and a crease appeared between his brows. "Why…?"
Little more than a confused gasp, and it took all the control within her not to return to the solace and serenity of his arms. She rested slender fingers against his cheek.
He leaned into the warm touch, breathing in her scent and sinking again into the simplistic, but utterly deep, level of love, as his own breath seemed to be stifled by the sheer intensity of it.
Mejant trailed her fingers from his face to his hair. "Obi-Wan." She prompted tenderly, reveling in the silkiness of each auburn and sun-kissed strand. "Obi-Wan, you should go to the healers now. They'll…They'll want to look you over."
"But.." His sightless eyes still spoke resounding volumes of pain and weary longing. Shattered jewel, glinting in the harsh light. "I feel like it's been a lifetime since we've been together."
You're not the only one. "I know. But once you're evaluated by the healers, you can go home. Back to your quarters. Where your life is. Where most of the memories are."
He flinched at that, but his countenance quickly smoothed. He squeezed her hands. "You'll--be with me?"
She pulled him into an embrace, her face tilted against his neck. "Yes."
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Bant braced her hands around the data pad, glancing over the opened file for approximately the thousandth time, pacing in a small circle.
She wanted to have been there to greet him, but knew Mejant could provide comfort she, even after decades of friendship, couldn't.
That would have had the potential to cause a flare of jealousy within the Mon Calamarian healer earlier in her life, when a mixture of hormones and misplaced emotion left her mooning over Obi-Wan Kenobi.
She was mature enough (now, she added with an inward smile) to admit she wasn't too fond of Mejant Brei then. To be frank, she was wary of any female that stepped within five feet of her closest companion.
But thankfully that flirt with adolescent infatuation receded, and Bant could comprehend the genuine connection between Obi-Wan and Mejant. And although she briefly battled the idea of another person taking up such vital residence in his heart, her own romantic soft spot won her over.
Everyone had their role in Obi-Wan's life.
She was more than content to accept hers.
Bant sighed, looking pensively at the door. She hoped that Mejant would be strong enough to stand beside him through the difficult transitions ahead, while allowing him to take the journey on his own feet.
As much as she hated it, Bant knew Obi-Wan couldn't be sheltered from the tempests this recovery would create, the fierce winds that would threaten to throw him off course, the downpours that could blur his path.
She sealed her pale eyes. Force.
Let this be the last hurdle for him.
The powerful entity didn't respond, and the healer could do nothing but wait for his arrival, gooseflesh risen on her salmon skin.
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Mejant entwined her hand with Obi-Wan's as they walked, caressing the pads of his fingers as though she too had no memory of the softness of their united touch.
Obi-Wan had been silent since they began the journey to the healers, and she often stole glances at Master Jinn, who walked on the opposite side of his former Padawan, but a step behind.
There was a heavy look in Qui-Gon's eyes; she offered him a warm, close-mouthed smile.
Qui-Gon smiled in return, but though the expression wasn't exactly forced, there was a patent sadness in it.
"Amazing." Obi-One murmured through barely parted lips.
Mejant was drawn back to him. "What, Obi-Wan?"
He only shook his head.
She ran her hand quickly down his back, still trying to control the sharp, all-encompassing rapture of the day, the sweet return of balance and assurance in her heart.
She could remember her early trips through the Temple, as a chubby child with a slip of fly-away hair, enthralled by everything and unaware of anyone that dare invade her circle of awe.
Obi-Wan was feeling the largest gathering of Force-users in the galaxy, concentrated into a relatively small space, for what he believed to be the first time.
I'm lucky he even realizes I'm around right now. She thought with a smirk.
Master Jinn was just as speechless as Obi-Wan, but for different reasons, Mejant surmised, watching the man's troubled gaze, so steadfast on their companion.
He was unable to move his eyes from Obi-Wan, it seemed. He took in every moment of the Knight's reaction, saw every precious second unblinking…
Drinking it in, as though preparing for a time of long, barren drought.
Mejant frowned, a tiny edge of melancholy trespassing her blissful mood.
Soon, they were at the hospital ward doors, greeted by Bant's flushed and overjoyed face.
She walked up to the trio with obvious reveling. "Force, I thought you'd never get here." The healer said, her bashful ways abandoned in favor of unbridled happiness, a grin splitting her small, lovely face. "I couldn't even wait in my office anymore…I…"
Her eyes stopped on Obi-Wan, and so her words simultaneously halted. "Obi." The gasp was whispery. She wrapped her arms around him, not waiting for his response.
He gripped her tightly, burying his face in her neck. "Don't think I don't remember you." Obi-One intoned against her smooth neck. "You're my best friend."
Bant pulled back, tears creating a shiny sheen on her cheeks. She stroked his face. "Yes, Obi. Thank the Force."
They embraced again.
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Bant perused the chart while Obi-Wan settled on the examination table, Mejant steady at his side.
"Everything looks to be in order here. It says here you were quite ill leading up to the…incident, and for awhile afterward, but from what I've gathered you're mostly healthy now." She explained, patting his shoulder. "Of course, we couldn't let you leave here without a series of tests--That would just take all the fun out of it."
Obi-One chuckled softly. He felt a minor blush heat in his cheeks, and found himself wishing, once more, for a more comfortable familiarity among…well, everyone. It seemed he was constantly self-conscious, aware of eyes he couldn't see trained on him.
Bant looked thankful for his positive reaction, taking in a peaceful breath before turning to Qui-Gon. "Is there anything you'd like to add concerning his condition, Master?"
His eyes moved regretfully from the patient to the healer. Bant's eyes were crisp, clear, as fresh as the other occupants of the room.
Suddenly, he knew he was woefully out of place. An old man with a grayed mane, standing with young Knights, a relic of another generation, trying to grasp to an era long since passed.
It was time they all move beyond the pain of yesterday's wounds.
Tomorrow would be another day, and when he forced himself to look beyond, he saw that it was ripe with possibility. Ani.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I can only say that Obi-Wan has handled his transitions wonderfully. He has a strength that none of us can comprehend." He stopped in front of Obi-Wan and laid a calm hand on his arm. "He'll overcome all that's thrown at him--and it will be because of his good heart and powerful soul.
"I have no doubt."
Obi-One blushed a deep color. A lump was dense in his throat, formed of overwhelming gratitude, relief…And if there were any other emotions, some less jovial and not as sweetened by sentiment, they paled beside the rest. Something was changing, with every moment he could sense it a bit more.
Qui-Gon Jinn was going to return to the normalcy of his life.
They had both spent weeks lost in a different time, exploring events that had shaped the present, examining and reliving them.
But reality had been waiting patiently all the while. It wouldn't do so anymore.
Obi-One smiled, his eyes only dully lit by the expression. "I don't know where I'd be…"
Qui-Gon's rather stoic demeanor faded as he embraced his ex-apprentice, taking in his presence with sharp attention to every facet. "We agreed to be honest with one another." He said. "So I wasn't lying when I said you've done this for yourself. Never underestimate your strength, Obi-Wan." Pulling marginally back, he pressed their foreheads together. His words were hushed, meant for the other, and none else. "I…" It pained him more than he could even comprehend to speak a meager shred of the shame within him, but he knew it must be done.
He had to at least give a small warning.
I owe him that much.
I owe him everything.
"I want you to remember that when all else feels as though its crumbling, when you believe you're alone…It can be enough. Alone, you can go on. You're the strongest man I've known, Obi-Wan, and you can survive. You must rely on yourself, my Padawan. Never forfeit, never give in. You're better than that." He leaned in, speaking more quietly still, his breath brushing over the Knight's ear. "You're better than all of us. "
Obi-One opened his mouth in characteristically humble protest, but Qui-Gon didn't allow it.
"Don't argue this. Don't let uncertainty enter your mind." Don't put your faith in others.
How he wanted to say that…but he couldn't.
Obi-One shook his head. "I'm not going to pretend you weren't there for me."
"I don't want you to." Qui-Gon replied emphatically. "But I don't want you to believe it was I who saved you. I was comfort-you were strength." His hand smoothed over the edges of the ginger hair. "And strength is what's needed to survive."
Obi-One laid his fingers against the leonine face, tracing each feature and line, etching the composition into his heart with delicate, painstaking precision. "I'm glad we had the chance to reconnect."
"Me too."
And Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan had figured it out. It wasn't a complicated situation, really. Things had to move forward again.
Qui-Gon had a new purpose, and now that old mistakes were (partly) righted, he could reassume his place. As Anakin's Master. As the Chosen One's mentor.
And Obi-Wan's friend.
He laid a gentle kiss on the warm, golden temple. "Remember what I told you."
Obi-One inhaled brokenly. "I will."
Qui-Gon wiped away the single tear from beneath a glassy eye. "Remember that I love you. No matter what, I love you, my Padawan."
Obi-One nodded, and felt a subdued flex in the Force, within their awakened bond. He couldn't identify the source, so quickly shoved it aside, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon. "I love you too."
Qui-Gon allowed it to linger a moment, then broke away, heading toward the door. He thanked Bant and Mejant, hoping he didn't sound as disoriented as he felt.
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Anakin stood when his Master walked through the apartment door. He was sullen when he entered the docking bay, only to discover the small party had already departed without him, but he didn't want to start the day with any more resentment between them.
In this instance, he would overlook his irritation.
The Chancellor's advice surfaced in his head. "You are the pledged apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn. He has obligations to you, current ones, that surpass any he has to Kenobi."
With a buoyed spirit, he looked at the man. "Welcome home, Master."
Qui-Gon smiled, hanging his robe before strolling over to squeeze Anakin's shoulder. "It's good to see you, Padawan. I'm very anxious to hear how your time was spent while I was occupied."
Anakin shrugged. "The usual stuff. Well, I mean, I started helping with those classes like I told you, but apart from that, nothing new."
Qui-Gon sank onto the couch. Weariness tugged at him, but he couldn't be bothered by its pull. "Well, that's certainly going to change. It's about time we started preparing you for senior Padawan status. I think you're more than ready."
Anakin beamed broadly, settling in the overstuffed arm chair beside the sofa. "Would that mean I'd be able to go on solo missions?"
"Ah, so enthused about ditching your old Master?" Qui-Gon snorted, privately pleased that he was able to do more than function on a low level after the difficult departure in the healing ward. "Maybe we should just put off those trials for a few more years."
Anakin laughed. For the first few minutes of their meeting, he was able to cast aside the niggling feeling within him. But he was young, and such strident resignation wasn't always obtained.
What's the harm in asking? It's not like he won't gush about him anyway.
"How's Knight Kenobi?"
The apprentice watched for the telltale flicker in midnight eyes, but Qui-Gon was physically unaffected by the inquiry.
"Fine. He's going through some routine medical tests, but after that he'll be given clearance to return to his quarters. Knight Brei and Knight Eerin have been very generous with their support of him."
Anakin was taken aback, surprised and satisfied by his Master's answer. Not so indifferent it became suspicious, and not overly concerned either.
He wanted to know what was going on with ME. Anakin thought with an inward smile.
As their companionable conversation went on, Skywalker silently commended Palpatine.
It seemed the politician might just be as wise as Master Yoda.
Or more so.
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Mejant took Obi-Wan's arm when they exited the healers, interlocking their fingers as was their habit.
It wasn't unusual for a blind person to be led in such a manner. The fact that said person and his female counterpart were closely acquainted was strictly a coincidence.
Or that's what they had always planned on divulging, in case questions ever arose.
Mejant smiled at him, eyes gleaming with as much love and disbelief as when they landed upon him in the Temple bay. He underwent the tests with a good-natured attitude, never causing Bant to feel uneasy about her duties. The results showed his system was unharmed, save the areas still recuperating from the wipe and reversal process.
Another sign that he would be alright.
For some ridiculous reason, she needed to repeat that to herself.
"Here we are." She announced, when they had come to his door.
Obi-One inhaled, reaching out a slightly trembling hand. "This is where I live?"
"Yes."
He felt the cool steel. His fingers streaked along it, smudging the stainless surface. They raked over raised circles, and he was shocked that he could decipher their meaning.
"Kenobi." Obi-One murmured. He turned in Mejant's direction. "I didn't know I could do that. I never even had the opportunity to try until now."
She risked kissing his cheek. "You'll realize all the amazing things you're capable of, Obi, now that you're home."
He grinned, covering her mouth with his.
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Qui-Gon turned from the window, the moon's glowing illumination slipping from his cheek to his back as he retreated.
The day had passed quietly; he spent the time catching up with Anakin, as well as organizing some technical work from the mission.
Now night had spread quietly along Coruscant, and entered the Temple, leaving the halls silent and most of its occupants in rest.
But though he had been granted a certain serenity through the Naboo assignment, Qui-Gon couldn't quite release all the anxious tension within him. A small voice whispered that everything wasn't settled as he would like to believe, threads were still left untied--maybe even fraying, splitting at the ends, and multiplying.
He cast the niggling little annoyance aside, knowing it to be from the throat of jealousy.
Obi-Wan's fine now. His friends are beside him.
And simply because he couldn't detect a palpable envy of young Mejant and the Mon Calamarian healer didn't mean it didn't exist.
For what else could be the cause of the residual brooding, this sense of restlessness when he should be contented in sleep?
Qui-Gon huffed a sigh, trailing from the main room to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and weak, generated light provided a yellow incandescence in the darkened area.
He pushed past sugary, brightly colored juice and plain mineral water--
Then his fingers brushed against a specific container. Slick, smooth.
"Damn." Qui-Gon uttered under his breath, pulling the bottle of liquor from the depths of the chilling unit.
He stood in the sallow light, watching how it hovered around the green-tinted glass and deepened the amber shade of the liquid half-filling the cool bottle.
How sultry it once seemed, the brassy flavor, promising total intoxication and sweet, temporary relief.
Temporary. Qui-Gon titled it, feeling the gentle slosh against his palm. He remembered so many wasted nights when he sought release within the jade bottle, thinking that it would be a cure when, in actuality, it only festered and fed his disease.
I have Obi-Wan now. He's not here, not right here…but still, he's nearby. And that isn't such a huge distance anymore, is it?
He blinked. At least, not for awhile. And stared down at the tantalizing, taunting liquor.
He grasped the slender, glass neck. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Tightening his hand until he had a stranglehold, Qui-Gon's eyes were leveled, resigned. This isn't going to make the journey any easier.
Releasing a ragged sigh, he closed the refrigerator and headed for his bedroom, feeling a heaviness in his eyelids.
On the way, he dropped the bottle into the trash.
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Mejant poured the second glass of ruby red juice, the striking aroma filling her senses.
Emotionally spent from the day's reunion, and with the realization she had not been able to eat or sip anything except a bit of water since the night before, she took a long drink, allowing the flavorful fluid to revive her system and further calm her nerves.
Obi-Wan's apartment was completely neglected during his long absence. Thin, white layers of dust coated the rooms and lent a depressing staleness to the place. His kitchen was barren (typical even when he occupied the quaint quarters) and had to be stocked with some essentials before his arrival. Mejant gratefully accepted the task, filling the cupboards with his favorite crackers, breads and canned vegetables, littered with a few choice sweets.
She was a self-professed slob herself, so the real challenge came in tidying his home. She had to be sure all major obstacles were removed from the floor, while not drastically rearranging the set-up.
After a few hours of feverish cleaning, the apartment was spotless--and smelled pungently of lemon cleanser. That just wouldn't suffice, so the Knight sprayed every room with a liberal amount of freshener.
She didn't count on the power of the previous odor, didn't expect it to withstand half a can of air purifier.
Mejant only prayed Obi-Wan wouldn't comment on the 'lemony fresh' atmosphere--or gag when it became unbearable.
Biting her bottom lip to stifle a giggle, she carried the beverages into the main room.
"Here." She closed his fingers around the cup, then sat beside him on the faded green sofa.
"Thank you." He replied softly, taking a swallow, his lips lingering on the rim for a moment after, as they usually did.
Mejant smiled. She watched a small, burgundy droplet glimmer on his moist mouth and felt a flutter within her chest. It never changes…The most foolish things make me want to…
Obi-One sniffed, a wrinkle appearing in the skin between his brows. "You know, this reminds me of something…"
Mejant sat forward. "What?" She laid a concerned hand on his knee. "Are you remembering something?"
"Yesss…" He touched two fingers contemplatively to his chin, tapping them. "Oh, what is it…"
She grasped his hand, seeing his frustration. "Try to explain it to me. Maybe I can help."
His eye almost twinkled at the kind worry in her voice. If anyone else were to say it, it wouldn't sound nearly as genuine, as heartfelt and deep. "I think…Yes, I have it.
"This place smells like the hospital."
Nearly choking on her juice, Mejant clamped a hand over her mouth.
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Anakin rolled onto his back again, glancing at the chronometer beside his bed with a sigh.
He had tried to get to sleep. For an entire hour he laid beneath the sheets, his eyes closed and his body still against the mattress, waiting for that temporary oblivion to claim him.
But, although his form was motionless, inside it was restless as those tiny flies, 'specks with wings', that swarmed around Mos Espa, and had to be constantly batted away by irritated inhabitants.
'Specks with wings'. Yes, that's what almost everyone called them, the little nuisances that further polluted the dusty air, with their hair-fine legs and shrill buzzing. Sometimes, when he escaped long enough from the junkyard to engage in some made-up game with the other kids, Noghu Vuh would be there among them, four or five years older than the rest, nine or ten times larger, it always seemed.
For as far back as he could remember, Anakin was hated by Noghu, and was greeted with a spindly-toothed sneer whenever their paths crossed. While all of the children participated in hard labor, Anakin experienced a somewhat kinder day, with only mechanical tasks to complete. Noghu had deep scars along his face, and a patch on his head where his ruddy brown hair refused to grow.
No one could really figure out where he attained such visible signs of his shackled torment, or what his place in the ugly levels of slavery was.
He relished poking fun at the small, good-natured Anakin. Most of the time, his remarks were brushed off like loose grains of sand. But there was a single instance when Anakin just couldn't disregard the boy's biting words.
"All these stupid bugs always flyin' around." Noghu grumbled, waving his arms violently. He glanced at Anakin, who was doing his best to ignore him, and smiled. "For all the trouble they cause, and they're just specks with wings…Kinda like you, Skywalker."
Anakin bit down on a gather of flesh inside his mouth. "You're just…You're just dumb."
"Oh yeah, I guess I am." The boy chuckled. "At least these useless little specks HAVE wings. They can go wherever they want. You're just a speck WITHOUT wings."
Anakin threw his forearm over his eyes.
Here he was, on the verge of his senior apprenticeship in the Jedi Order, and he was sucking himself back into a different lifetime, uncovering old holes and looking down into their stale darkness.
He flipped onto his side. It was so easy to believe what Noghu said back then. After all, he didn't have wings. If he stood on the crumbling balcony of their hovel and leaped, he wouldn't reach the stars. He would fall.
But now, he was older. He knew better. No sentient being could soar the way he imagined, whether they be a slave or a senator.
Today, he was a Jedi. And at least he could land on his feet.
What more can I ask for?
Anakin swallowed, gazing out into the thick night. He had always survived with little rest. From long hours at Watto's or the fear of nightmares, he was doomed to spend countless hours this way, waiting a long while for a respite that would be much shorter.
He used to wonder, in his earlier years as a Padawan, if others within the Temple felt the same forbidden emotions as he. Did anyone else who resided in this room dread the setting of the sun?
And…did anyone know they felt that way? Or were they fated to secrecy?
He heard footsteps cross the hall. He pulled his mental shields up a bit higher. I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything that I'm still afraid of.
But…But then he'd know I'm afraid.
Is The Chosen One supposed to be afraid?
Qui-Gon's door shut, and Anakin released a small breath. "I'm afraid Padme doesn't love me as much as I love her." He whispered to the darkness. "I…"
But the next couldn't be spoken aloud. I'm afraid that when she thinks of love she thinks of…him. I want to trust her. Gods, do I. But it doesn't matter how much I trust her. As long as HE'S around, I'll never know for sure.
Qui-Gon's door slid open, and Anakin frowned, sealing his eyes as he sensed the man approach.
The Master entered the room, taking a few paces, then stopping at his apprentice's bed.
Slowly, Anakin opened his eyes. "Master?"
Blue eyes were streaked with shadow, gleaming and bright. Affectionate. "I..I wanted to tell you again how glad I am to be home."
Anakin smiled faintly. "I'm glad you're home too."
Qui-Gon touched his forehead with gentle, worn fingers. "Tomorrow we'll start training. You'll need your sleep, my Padawan."
"I know." But it feels so much better when you tell me. He ushered in the warmth to his heart.
Qui-Gon smoothed out his blanket, then headed for the door. "Good night, Ani."
"G'night, Master."
For several minutes, he lay in the quiet, his lips still upturned at the corners. I know you love me. I know you have your responsibilities to me, but…"I'm afraid I could lose you."
To his own surprise, his voice slightly cracked.
There were so many ways a Padawan could be left without a Master. Anakin knew well about that.
But if just one possibility were eliminated…
He felt himself drifting, rocked by the lull of the Force and his thoughts. I guess I'm not the speck anymore, am I, Kenobi?
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"Obi-Wan?"
Mejant's hushed voice threaded through the silence. It was late, the hour of absolute calm (or, the closest Coruscant could come to it) and the backdrop was dense black, save the tall, looming street rods, with their trembling yellow glow. She could feel the peace of collective rest within the Temple--nearly complete. But the single soul that linked them all together somehow, the Jedi blessed above the rest, remained awake, his head resting on her lap, his body stretched across the sofa.
The Knight's fingers on one hand were curled and touching to his lips.
Mejant smoothed his hair. "Obi-Wan? Obi…Can you tell me what's wrong?" Their conversation had been so natural and easy, almost as if there had never been the lonely gap of time when he was stranded on Naboo. But she didn't walk into the docking bay expecting him to be restored to his original self. There were bound to be moments of both confusion and pain.
He…He hasn't been himself since…
She drew a glossy lock behind her ear. We can get through this.
Obi-One closed his eyes, realizing again the triviality of keeping them open. "Nothing's wrong. It's the opposite. It's like being held under water so long you forget what it's like to breathe….You forget how to breathe." He swallowed, laying his hand on her knee. "Then, to be thrown to the surface, and have the air hit you…The wind, the breeze…And the sun…
"I didn't understand what it would be like to be around so many like me. People who hear what I can hear. Feel what I feel. And it's not that I can just feel their physical presence…I can…"
Mejant smiled, running her fingers across his lips, sensing the overwhelmed spirit, battling to describe what was infinitely beyond description. "I know what you mean." She murmured, leaning close.
He felt her warm breath against his face. For one terrible, seething moment, he hated to his core whoever tried to steal her from his mind.
But then it subsided, as it must. If he felt the extent of it, his anger and resentment, he was sure he would smother.
Obi-One kissed her, his palm caressing her cheek, holding her in place. "All of it's too much…" He parted slightly from her mouth, his eyes proving once more that sight was never their sole function, as they seemed to stare up at her.
His unfixed gaze was entrancing, sweet and pure and gleaming. Mejant shivered.
"It's too much…But I don't want any of it to go. I need to keep it." He said.
Mejant wiped a stray tear from under her eye, then his. "You'll keep it, Obi. It feels like too much because you're so sensitive to the Force…You're it's most beloved creation. Soon, you'll know it too."
Obi-One sat up and drew her into his arms. "You're just trying to flatter me." He said, a little shyly, with a smile. "I know something of who I am now…And I can't see anything especially miraculous."
Mejant was ashamed of the smile that spread across her face. It was wonderful to hear words that sounded distinctly like Obi-Wan, humble and self-deprecating, as he had always been. She had accepted he would never recognize the greatness in himself, not more than a shred of his worth--but it didn't mean she would stop telling him. "You're here, aren't you? You endured everything that's happened…Which is much more than most could've done."
"Well, from what I can tell, I'm here because of my former Master," He spread feather light kisses along her delicate brow. "And you. You two saved me."
She didn't say another word, collapsing into her love for him, against his chest. No…It's the other way around.
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