One Life for Another
Qui-Gon followed her into the arena, where she stood just inside the door. Two younger padawans were dueling on the mats, leaping around obstacles in one of the competitions. He could sense another shift in Raven, as she stood in the doorway. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her face held a focused look, although her eyes seemed to watch nothing at all, only looking the general direction of the competition.
"You know, this was my haven," she said suddenly, jolting Qui-Gon's attention from the battle to her. "Not all of my memories of the Temple and my life here are fond. I was brought to the Temple very old by Jedi standards, almost one year in fact. I have a very high midichlorian count. However, I wasn't a very quick learner. My teachers often had to work very hard with me to get me to master simple concepts. I was thrown out of many classes because they thought I simply wasn't trying. I did try, though often I just couldn't do it.
"Here, I excelled. I was top of every one of my saber classes. This arena was where the playing field was leveled for me. I could compete against the other children my age here and succeed. If it weren't for this, I think I would have left the Temple from frustration before I was old enough to be chosen as a padawan. As it was, I was sure I was destined for the AgriCorps or something equally humiliating."
The two padawans were separated, one standing on top of a tall box while the other assessed the situation from below. The audience had grown quiet, and the students' concentration was reflected in the individual observer's face. Raven stood, still transfixed, looking through the battling students.
The one on the box flipped over the other's head, making a low slash. The move was parried slowly, the second obviously caught off guard. The student who had jumped used the other's momentary surprised and gave him a strong hit on his arm. Then, the fight was over, the second, still disoriented, tumbling to the ground in an effort to twist away from the burn. The kill point was scored by the student on the box, who then proceeded to help the other up. They bowed and left the mat as the announcer roared the victor's name and stated the next match.
"Well won, if I do say so…" Qui-Gon trailed off, watching Raven as she took a few wobbling steps. Her face had gone almost as white as the undertunic beneath her tabards. She made it one more step before her legs gave way beneath her. Qui-Gon was behind her before she could crumple to the floor, supporting her by thrusting his arms beneath hers.
He eased her back to her feet, shifting her so that she was supported by one of his arms, her own clutching at his back beneath his. "Come on, I think it's time to go back to the infirmary," he said soothingly. He could feel her heart beating rapidly, and her breath was coming in short, arduous gasps.
"I'd love to oblige you in that," Raven gulped in reply, "but first you must stop the room from spinning."
Qui-Gon gently crouched down, gathering her legs with his other arm and swinging her up into his grasp. "Never you mind that," he told her as she clung to his tunics and closed her eyes tightly. "I'll get you down there."
"Somehow, I don't think this is supposed to happen," Raven said, her voice muffled from his clothing. Qui-Gon marveled at how light she was in his arms, even though she was little more than muscle and bone. She opened her eyes slightly, her features relaxing a little. "This feels like the last time I had blood work done for my physical," she added unhappily.
"And the healers wonder why most Jedi have an aversion to their domain!" Qui-Gon laughed. Raven nodded her agreement feebly. Her breathing had slowed, although the Jedi could tell that that wasn't because she was calming herself. Instead, he could tell that she was struggling to remain conscious. Suddenly, she gave up, her body losing its tension.
"I knew there was a reason I thought that was a bad idea," Qui-Gon sighed as he pushed open the doors to the infirmary.
***
Raven was coming around again, albeit slowly, by the time Qui-Gon had returned her to her room. He laid her on her bed as she began to stir. As he pulled his hand away, Qui-Gon was surprised to find scarlet dampness on his hands. Raven stirred on the bed with a quiet moan as the Jedi moved to the door and called for a healer.
A young man entered the room dressed in the infirmary scrubs. He was obviously an older padawan, fairly close to Qui-Gon's age, his braid falling halfway to his elbow. Qui-Gon had already busied himself by peeling off her tabards, the undertunic beneath steeped in blood. The padawan swore, seeing what the Jedi was uncovering. "What happened to her?" he asked Qui-Gon, helping him strip the tunic from her. "It looks like it's been bleeding for some time."
Qui-Gon shrugged, putting the dirty clothing into a hamper for such things as the padawan inspected the bandages. "She was injured in a saber fight yesterday," he informed the other, "and demanded to speak with the Council this afternoon. I guess she reopened the wound."
"Looks like it." The padawan swore softly to himself. "I think everyone has gone to bed or the arena for the evening. Tournament days are maddening! The infirmary is understaffed. Can you help me? We need to get her into a bacta tank. Let me check her records before we do."
The padawan moved to the end of the bed, studying the datapad that was there. He raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon after he scanned it. "She's not a Jedi?" he asked, the surprise evident in his tone, "and she has bone knitters in her. By the Force!" He left the room abruptly.
Raven stirred again, her eyes fluttering open. "What's going on?" she asked, sounding a little disoriented. Her eyes flickered around the room, finally settling on Qui-Gon.
"You broke open your gash in stubbornness," he informed her, "and perhaps your blaster wound as well."
"Lovely," came her reply as she shifted to stare at the ceiling.
The padawan reappeared and threw an armful of cloth bandages on the bed. Under his other arm was tucked a container of clear liquid, which he placed carefully on the stand next to the bed. "Strip off her bandages carefully," the padawan said as he grabbed a clean bandage. "We can't give her full immersion, but we can bandage bacta to the parts away from the knitters."
"Can you sit up for me, Raven?" Qui-Gon asked, gently supporting her as he shifted her to sit upright. He found the end of the bandage and carefully began unwinding it from her middle.
"If you give me a treat," she replied impishly, cooperatively lifting her arms to make the unwrapping process easier. Qui-Gon worked in silence for a few minutes as the padawan carefully soaked and folded some of the new bandages he had brought. "Would you talk to me?" the Rogue finally said a little uneasily. "The tension in this room makes me feel like I may not live until morning."
"You'll live, but I'd like to stop that blood flow as quickly as possible," the padawan replied. "You've already lost a considerable amount."
"Stubbornness does that to a person sometimes," Raven replied half-heartedly. "So tell me about Dane then." She made the request quietly, and Qui-Gon could sense that she would have preferred to ask Dane himself what had happened and whether he was all right.
"I found him trussed up and hidden in a corner next to some kind of detonator. I think your dark friend intended simply to blow him up if one of us got too close. His hands and feet were a little swollen from being tied for so long, and he was a little groggy when I got to him, but other than that, he was fine. Turns out, Younam traced him to you and used him as bait. He wanted to get you out of the way before he moved on Valorum. Anyway, Dane was in the Temple briefly, long enough to see you wouldn't die on him. He told me he was going to go home to hug his children and kiss his wife. Then, he planned to find another job. Of course, that was only after I promise to have you contact him when you could."
Raven sat in silence as Qui-Gon pulled away the last of the bandages, revealing the blaster burn on her back. He moved to dispose of the soiled bandages and turned back to look at her as the padawan began to position the bacta-soaked clothes and bind them with the bandages.
Her face was relatively blank, and he couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind. The rest of her life hinged on the decision the Council was discussing in the uppermost room of the Temple. She had risked life and livelihood to help him for no other reason that she thought she could. Qui-Gon realized that in the last few days, she had become one of his closer friends, having normally been a loner within the Temple.
Qui-Gon wondered what she was giving up to come back. He had, from time to time, speculated on what life was like beyond the Temple. He had speculated on the idea of having genuine friends and living only for himself and not for the mandates the Council had given him. Qui-Gon had dreamed of falling in love and holding his first child. However, those dreams had always seemed an apparition that he couldn't truly make real. They were dreams of another man, another Qui-Gon who would never find complete existence.
But she had tasted those tendrils of freedom, she had made friends and a life for herself. Raven had lived as she chose, making her own decisions on where to go and what to do, making friends. And still, she wanted to give up those freedoms to be a Jedi again. She had seen both worlds, and this one, in her opinion, was the better.
However, that idea made sense to Qui-Gon. He couldn't perceive himself as making any other decision than that, although he also couldn't imagine being in such a situation. Nothing came to mind that would be strong enough for him to leave the Jedi Order, despite the faults he could see within the structure. Nothing was perfect, and this at least had an ideal at the end for him to strive towards.
Still, a faint tugging pulled at him as he watched the padawan carefully place another bacta cloth and wrap it. Something stirred within him, and Qui-Gon suspected that it was the beginnings of love for this fierce, independent woman. He felt a fierce desire to protect her, to heal her, and to make her whole again. It was a contradictory thought, if it were to grow into full-fledged love, because for her to be whole again, to be a Jedi again, she would have to renounce such things as the exclusive love between two people. Jedi were not required to remain celibate. The idea of marriage though was perceived as a form of attachment, something the Jedi were discouraged from partaking of.
In any case, they had their friendship, which was special in and of itself. Qui-Gon pushed aside the stirrings of emotion, remembering the mantra that one's personal thoughts can betray oneself. He was indebted to her for the lesson she had taught him, as well as for his life. In the end, he would be a Jedi, holding to the ideals that that implied, and because of her, he would be a better one. That was enough, he knew within himself, to make up for whatever millions of other paths his life might have taken, whether or not it involved her. He was content with that knowledge as well. He had her friendship, and that was enough.
Qui-Gon followed her into the arena, where she stood just inside the door. Two younger padawans were dueling on the mats, leaping around obstacles in one of the competitions. He could sense another shift in Raven, as she stood in the doorway. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her face held a focused look, although her eyes seemed to watch nothing at all, only looking the general direction of the competition.
"You know, this was my haven," she said suddenly, jolting Qui-Gon's attention from the battle to her. "Not all of my memories of the Temple and my life here are fond. I was brought to the Temple very old by Jedi standards, almost one year in fact. I have a very high midichlorian count. However, I wasn't a very quick learner. My teachers often had to work very hard with me to get me to master simple concepts. I was thrown out of many classes because they thought I simply wasn't trying. I did try, though often I just couldn't do it.
"Here, I excelled. I was top of every one of my saber classes. This arena was where the playing field was leveled for me. I could compete against the other children my age here and succeed. If it weren't for this, I think I would have left the Temple from frustration before I was old enough to be chosen as a padawan. As it was, I was sure I was destined for the AgriCorps or something equally humiliating."
The two padawans were separated, one standing on top of a tall box while the other assessed the situation from below. The audience had grown quiet, and the students' concentration was reflected in the individual observer's face. Raven stood, still transfixed, looking through the battling students.
The one on the box flipped over the other's head, making a low slash. The move was parried slowly, the second obviously caught off guard. The student who had jumped used the other's momentary surprised and gave him a strong hit on his arm. Then, the fight was over, the second, still disoriented, tumbling to the ground in an effort to twist away from the burn. The kill point was scored by the student on the box, who then proceeded to help the other up. They bowed and left the mat as the announcer roared the victor's name and stated the next match.
"Well won, if I do say so…" Qui-Gon trailed off, watching Raven as she took a few wobbling steps. Her face had gone almost as white as the undertunic beneath her tabards. She made it one more step before her legs gave way beneath her. Qui-Gon was behind her before she could crumple to the floor, supporting her by thrusting his arms beneath hers.
He eased her back to her feet, shifting her so that she was supported by one of his arms, her own clutching at his back beneath his. "Come on, I think it's time to go back to the infirmary," he said soothingly. He could feel her heart beating rapidly, and her breath was coming in short, arduous gasps.
"I'd love to oblige you in that," Raven gulped in reply, "but first you must stop the room from spinning."
Qui-Gon gently crouched down, gathering her legs with his other arm and swinging her up into his grasp. "Never you mind that," he told her as she clung to his tunics and closed her eyes tightly. "I'll get you down there."
"Somehow, I don't think this is supposed to happen," Raven said, her voice muffled from his clothing. Qui-Gon marveled at how light she was in his arms, even though she was little more than muscle and bone. She opened her eyes slightly, her features relaxing a little. "This feels like the last time I had blood work done for my physical," she added unhappily.
"And the healers wonder why most Jedi have an aversion to their domain!" Qui-Gon laughed. Raven nodded her agreement feebly. Her breathing had slowed, although the Jedi could tell that that wasn't because she was calming herself. Instead, he could tell that she was struggling to remain conscious. Suddenly, she gave up, her body losing its tension.
"I knew there was a reason I thought that was a bad idea," Qui-Gon sighed as he pushed open the doors to the infirmary.
***
Raven was coming around again, albeit slowly, by the time Qui-Gon had returned her to her room. He laid her on her bed as she began to stir. As he pulled his hand away, Qui-Gon was surprised to find scarlet dampness on his hands. Raven stirred on the bed with a quiet moan as the Jedi moved to the door and called for a healer.
A young man entered the room dressed in the infirmary scrubs. He was obviously an older padawan, fairly close to Qui-Gon's age, his braid falling halfway to his elbow. Qui-Gon had already busied himself by peeling off her tabards, the undertunic beneath steeped in blood. The padawan swore, seeing what the Jedi was uncovering. "What happened to her?" he asked Qui-Gon, helping him strip the tunic from her. "It looks like it's been bleeding for some time."
Qui-Gon shrugged, putting the dirty clothing into a hamper for such things as the padawan inspected the bandages. "She was injured in a saber fight yesterday," he informed the other, "and demanded to speak with the Council this afternoon. I guess she reopened the wound."
"Looks like it." The padawan swore softly to himself. "I think everyone has gone to bed or the arena for the evening. Tournament days are maddening! The infirmary is understaffed. Can you help me? We need to get her into a bacta tank. Let me check her records before we do."
The padawan moved to the end of the bed, studying the datapad that was there. He raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon after he scanned it. "She's not a Jedi?" he asked, the surprise evident in his tone, "and she has bone knitters in her. By the Force!" He left the room abruptly.
Raven stirred again, her eyes fluttering open. "What's going on?" she asked, sounding a little disoriented. Her eyes flickered around the room, finally settling on Qui-Gon.
"You broke open your gash in stubbornness," he informed her, "and perhaps your blaster wound as well."
"Lovely," came her reply as she shifted to stare at the ceiling.
The padawan reappeared and threw an armful of cloth bandages on the bed. Under his other arm was tucked a container of clear liquid, which he placed carefully on the stand next to the bed. "Strip off her bandages carefully," the padawan said as he grabbed a clean bandage. "We can't give her full immersion, but we can bandage bacta to the parts away from the knitters."
"Can you sit up for me, Raven?" Qui-Gon asked, gently supporting her as he shifted her to sit upright. He found the end of the bandage and carefully began unwinding it from her middle.
"If you give me a treat," she replied impishly, cooperatively lifting her arms to make the unwrapping process easier. Qui-Gon worked in silence for a few minutes as the padawan carefully soaked and folded some of the new bandages he had brought. "Would you talk to me?" the Rogue finally said a little uneasily. "The tension in this room makes me feel like I may not live until morning."
"You'll live, but I'd like to stop that blood flow as quickly as possible," the padawan replied. "You've already lost a considerable amount."
"Stubbornness does that to a person sometimes," Raven replied half-heartedly. "So tell me about Dane then." She made the request quietly, and Qui-Gon could sense that she would have preferred to ask Dane himself what had happened and whether he was all right.
"I found him trussed up and hidden in a corner next to some kind of detonator. I think your dark friend intended simply to blow him up if one of us got too close. His hands and feet were a little swollen from being tied for so long, and he was a little groggy when I got to him, but other than that, he was fine. Turns out, Younam traced him to you and used him as bait. He wanted to get you out of the way before he moved on Valorum. Anyway, Dane was in the Temple briefly, long enough to see you wouldn't die on him. He told me he was going to go home to hug his children and kiss his wife. Then, he planned to find another job. Of course, that was only after I promise to have you contact him when you could."
Raven sat in silence as Qui-Gon pulled away the last of the bandages, revealing the blaster burn on her back. He moved to dispose of the soiled bandages and turned back to look at her as the padawan began to position the bacta-soaked clothes and bind them with the bandages.
Her face was relatively blank, and he couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind. The rest of her life hinged on the decision the Council was discussing in the uppermost room of the Temple. She had risked life and livelihood to help him for no other reason that she thought she could. Qui-Gon realized that in the last few days, she had become one of his closer friends, having normally been a loner within the Temple.
Qui-Gon wondered what she was giving up to come back. He had, from time to time, speculated on what life was like beyond the Temple. He had speculated on the idea of having genuine friends and living only for himself and not for the mandates the Council had given him. Qui-Gon had dreamed of falling in love and holding his first child. However, those dreams had always seemed an apparition that he couldn't truly make real. They were dreams of another man, another Qui-Gon who would never find complete existence.
But she had tasted those tendrils of freedom, she had made friends and a life for herself. Raven had lived as she chose, making her own decisions on where to go and what to do, making friends. And still, she wanted to give up those freedoms to be a Jedi again. She had seen both worlds, and this one, in her opinion, was the better.
However, that idea made sense to Qui-Gon. He couldn't perceive himself as making any other decision than that, although he also couldn't imagine being in such a situation. Nothing came to mind that would be strong enough for him to leave the Jedi Order, despite the faults he could see within the structure. Nothing was perfect, and this at least had an ideal at the end for him to strive towards.
Still, a faint tugging pulled at him as he watched the padawan carefully place another bacta cloth and wrap it. Something stirred within him, and Qui-Gon suspected that it was the beginnings of love for this fierce, independent woman. He felt a fierce desire to protect her, to heal her, and to make her whole again. It was a contradictory thought, if it were to grow into full-fledged love, because for her to be whole again, to be a Jedi again, she would have to renounce such things as the exclusive love between two people. Jedi were not required to remain celibate. The idea of marriage though was perceived as a form of attachment, something the Jedi were discouraged from partaking of.
In any case, they had their friendship, which was special in and of itself. Qui-Gon pushed aside the stirrings of emotion, remembering the mantra that one's personal thoughts can betray oneself. He was indebted to her for the lesson she had taught him, as well as for his life. In the end, he would be a Jedi, holding to the ideals that that implied, and because of her, he would be a better one. That was enough, he knew within himself, to make up for whatever millions of other paths his life might have taken, whether or not it involved her. He was content with that knowledge as well. He had her friendship, and that was enough.
