The Other Side of Infinity
Part 3: Shining Spirit
Qui-Gon traveled through the night, drawing on the Force to keep him alert, sometimes half-meditating as he jogged in easy rhythm through the deep forest. Occasionally he glanced at the transponder on his belt, checking that he was still heading toward the beacon of Obi-Wan's escape pod, but he didn't really need to. The closer he drew to his Padawan, the more clearly he could feel his presence, and the brighter he burned in his mind's eye. That was a beacon far more steady and reliable than anything given by technology—the fire of Obi-Wan's pure spirit.
He could sense Obi-Wan's feelings more completely now, tell more about what was going on. Obviously, something had happened. He had felt the concentration, the energy, the protectiveness, as Obi-Wan had fought some kind of battle. He wasn't alone, apparently—he'd found someone in the depths of this ancient forest, someone who had become a friend almost instantly. That was good. Obi-Wan didn't make enough friends, too busy being a Jedi and saving the galaxy time and time again.
Now Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's deep sorrow, but it wasn't for himself. This new friend of Obi-Wan's was hurting: profoundly, horribly wounded, not physically but spiritually. And Obi-Wan had responded with compassion just as deep and profound, of course. The young Jedi was sifting through old, hard memories, the worst things that had happened to him over the past three years. He was finding the good and offering it to his new friend, krayt dragon pearls wrested from the heart of agony.
The Jedi Master smiled as he ran, his own compassion touched by this far-away enactment of sacrifice, sharing, and giving. He flooded the bond with all the fiercely paternal pride and love that filled him, buoying his steps so that he barely felt his feet strike the forest floor. My dear Padawan. This is it. This is what you do with sorrow. I'm proud of you, Obi-Wan, more proud than I can express.
He didn't know if Obi-Wan could catch the words, but he felt his apprentice smile and send back an overwhelming wave of gratitude and devotion. It's because of you, Master. You gave me this.
Did he hear the words, or only imagine them? Didn't matter—Obi-Wan's intent was clear.
Qui-Gon continued into the depths of the forest night, eager to reach his Padawan and this new friend, to share all that was passing between them.
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Thus Obi-Wan talked as he washed the wounded shoulder and dressed it, applying bacta and antibiotic salve liberally, pouring in waves of the Force to speed the healing, to destroy any infection that might have set in. He talked as they shared one of the four remaining bottles of water, and each ate a ration bar. Matio made a face at this "food," but said nothing. Obi-Wan talked as they lay down, the one wrapped in a cloak, the other in a robe, each gazing into the fire. He talked as the night settled in, and soft animal cries filtered to them from the surrounding forest. He talked as the cold pressed at their backs, as the fire warmed their hearts. He talked as Matio's tears finally began to fall, and slid in a silent stream into the blackened dirt. He talked until the tears stopped, and Matio closed his eyes in utter exhaustion.
Then, his voice hoarse and rough and low, Obi-Wan stopped talking.
He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the stars, weary in body, mind, and spirit. It was a good weariness, though. He had done worthy deeds with all three aspects of himself. He hoped that Matio would sleep soundly, that his rest would be deep and dreamless and healing.
"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Matio whispered from across the fire.
Obi-Wan looked at him. The smaller boy's eyes were still shut, but his forehead was wrinkled with effort and concentration. Somehow, the Jedi knew that he ought to remain silent.
A faint sigh escaped the young archer. "Until you, I had met no one who truly understood, who had been betrayed in the same way. Our situations are still different, of course—it was not your father who fell from goodness and decided to visit his own pain on you. If your Qui-Gon Jinn were ever to hurt you, perhaps that would break your heart in the same way. But I know he never would, as my Seeker Wari would never betray me."
"No," Obi-Wan murmured, at a loss to understand what that would be like. If Qui-Gon would ever—but no, the thought was too horrible. And impossible, he knew with relief.
"Still, you have . . ." Matio hesitated. "You have overcome. I saw that in your face. It gives me hope that I may overcome, as well."
Instinctively Obi-Wan sent a wave of comfort and assurance toward the boy, as Qui-Gon would have with him, forgetting that Matio was not of this universe and could not be Force-sensitive.
Matio sighed. "Yes, I feel your confidence in me. Thank you."
Obi-Wan's mind hitched in confusion. What abilities did this strange boy have? He shoved away the curiosity, concentrating on what Matio had to tell him.
"I'm sorry I didn't answer you before," the boy went on. "You have a right to know. How did I know for certain that I was in another universe? I saw it in your face, among other things. I saw . . . no, I must explain.
"Every Seeker on Madra has a gift, one that is unique to Seekers, rather rare, a talent given by the Maker. It is called Second Sight, or Second Hearing—a few other names, but those are the most common. By it we See into another dimension, or alternate universe as you may call it, the one populated by spirits. It is called by some the Middle Zone, though that name did not come from our world.
"Most Seekers See only with the mind's eye, but my gift is more rare. I can perceive the presence of Light, and the lack of it, with outer eyes, with physical senses. It is a burden, sometimes—I wish I could veil the Sight and see normally. I also have a bond with animals of all kinds, but that does not matter right now.
"Anyway, by looking in a man's face, I can see whether he is good, bad, or neither. It is like a thin covering over the face, a glow or 'nimbus,' Seeker Wari calls it. Sometimes I have to squint and stare hard to see it, and sometimes it is so bright, or so dark, that it almost blinds me, but it is always there.
"Good people on Madra shine faintly, or brightly, with a gold coloring. Lack of Light is manifested in darkness. Sometimes I see both in one person—those are the hardest people to understand, the hardest to deal with. But here . . . it is different. You are different. Everything is different, but I didn't realize how different until I stared into your face and Saw that, that you are not of my world. You don't shine with gold, Obi-Wan. I didn't understand it, at first. You have been so good and kind to me."
Obi-Wan's throat was dry. "I . . . I don't shine? Does, does that mean that . . ."
"No, no!" Matio almost laughed. It was a choking, strangled sound, but full of humor, lightening the young Jedi's heart. "It doesn't mean that you aren't a good person. I understood it, after I stared for a while and the King whispered to my heart. You do shine, but it is not gold. You are good, and the goodness comes from the Maker, as all goodness does, but it is not the same goodness as I see in my world."
"So I don't shine with gold, then, is that what it is?" Obi-Wan felt his shoulders relax. "What color do I shine in your Sight, Matio?"
Matio was silent for a long moment. When his voice came again, it was a faint whisper. "White, Obi-Wan. You shine brightest, purest white. I'd never seen that on a person before. But I know what it is, now. Light lives in you."
After that, the boys spoke no more. Sleep came and gathered them in gentle arms, and their rest was, indeed, deep and dreamless and healing.
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Obi-Wan was wakened by the smell of roasting meat. For a moment he lay still, feeling the hard ground beneath the thin covering of his robe, hoping that his body would wake up just a little more. Sith, he always felt sore after sleeping on the ground, and it took him forever to regain full alertness in the morning, but this was bad. His mind was fuzzy, his emotions drained, as if he'd done something last night that was incredibly stressful, mentally and spiritually, the equivalent of a marathon run, or a three-hour battle with all of the odds against him.
Oh, yeah. Matio.
Obi-Wan opened bleary eyes to peer at the early sunshine. Dawnlight still streaked the sky, hints of butter yellow, blushing pink against the new blue. Some sort of small animal was roasting on a spit over the fire, which had been built up from the embers they had fallen asleep beside.
Matio sat on the other side of the fire, doing something with an arrow in his hand. He beamed cheerfully at the Jedi, that rare, gorgeous smile so like the new sun overhead. "Greetings, friend. I trust your sleep was good, soothing to the body and the soul?"
Obi-Wan yawned and sat up, scrubbing his eyes with his fists. His new friend was definitely a morning person. Great. "How long have you been up?" he asked, trying to focus on the young archer.
Matio shrugged with one shoulder. "A while. I went back to the site of the battle to find my bow and gather my unbroken arrows. It's not that far away, really—just took us a very long time to walk here, yesterday. Shot something on the way back for our morning meal—I'd prefer not to eat any more of your 'rations.'" He shuddered at the thought.
Obi-Wan eyed the thing roasting over the fire with some doubt. "'Something?' You shot something. What is it?"
Matio shrugged, frowning slightly. "A rabbit? It looked like a rabbit, in a way, as those creatures we fought looked like wolves, in a way. I did not sense anything that could be harmful to us, in any case. And I'm sure it tastes better than rations."
Obi-Wan was sure of that too, but he still wasn't entirely convinced. He drew his knees to his chest, studying the younger boy. "You sensed it, you say?"
"Yes. That bond with animals I told you about, remember? It is not the same here in this universe, but I can still tell things." Matio's eyes were still fixed on the arrow in his hands. He was repairing the fletching, Obi-Wan saw, straightening the red feathers there, trimming them precisely, tying them firmly down.
Obi-Wan returned his gaze to Matio's face. The boy was not meeting his eyes. "How are you feeling?" the Jedi asked. "How's your shoulder?"
Matio shrugged again, experimentally, touched the shoulder lightly. "Much better. I've never had a wound heal so fast. That balm you put on it is indeed marvelous. And you did something else to it, didn't you?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"Well, I'll be sore for a week or two, but it won't slow me down much. Thank you for all you've done." Matio finally looked up and met Obi-Wan's eyes. That deep weariness still remained, lurking behind the depths of clear green-brown. His next statement came softly, apologetically. "I must be moving on today."
Obi-Wan blinked with deliberate slowness. "Moving on? You have somewhere to be? I thought you didn't know where you were . . . ." His eyes narrowed. "This has something to do with that long story you wouldn't tell me, doesn't it?"
"Everything to do with it, actually." Matio flushed and ducked his head. "I should have told you right away. I should have warned you of just how dangerous it is for you to be around me. I did you no favors, yesterday, pushing myself into your company."
"You did me a number of favors, as a matter of fact. And you did not push yourself into my company—I welcomed you with great happiness. And as far as wishing you'd told me earlier—just tell me now, would you please? I won't let you part with me until I know you'll be all right. That's a promise."
Matio looked up in surprise at the fierce tone, and he saw the hard determination in the Jedi's bright blue eyes. Sighing softly, he nodded. "I owe you that."
"You owe me nothing. But I am your friend, and I am a Jedi, and I will not leave you alone in danger. I want to understand. I want to help."
So Matio came around the fire and sat at Obi-Wan's side and showed him the newly-healed scars on the inside of his forearm. They ate the rabbit-like thing together, and the boy from another universe told all about how he had come to be here, about the terror and peril that came with him. At last the young Jedi understood, understood Matio's weariness and fear, his need to keep from staying in one place for more than a few hours.
"Yes." Obi-Wan nodded at the end of the young archer's tale. "You're right. You must be moving on. And I will come with you."