Candles Against the Sea
Part 2: Desperation
Qui-Gon answered a knock on the suite door to find Ambassador Tyril Grenik standing there. He was a tall, thin, nervous-looking human with pale hair and eyes and long fingers that twitched as he spoke. "Ah, Master Jinn! I trust you are settling in well?"
Qui-Gon nodded deeply and stepped back to let their official liaison into the room. "We are indeed, Ambassador. Obi-Wan and I are not usually accommodated in such luxury."
"Ah." A thin chuckle emerged from the long, white throat. "Well, you are very welcome, to be sure. Nothing but the best for the Jedi. Do you have any questions, needs, concerns? I am at your service for the length of your stay."
Qui-Gon indicated the datapad he still held in his right hand. "You have given us quite a good overview. Tomorrow when we meet with regional representatives to talk about what citizenship in the Republic can do for Sylelius, I hope I'll be able to answer all of your questions and concerns."
Grenik smiled, only a little shakily. Qui-Gon was a bit surprised that the planet had chosen for its liaison a person who seemingly wore his emotions on his face, but he found himself liking the man, nevertheless.
The Ambassador glanced around the apartment, some of the tension leaking from his body. "Has your apprentice retired so early? We have a small reception planned in an hour that you are both invited to attend."
"Obi-Wan asked for permission to go for a walk, and I granted it. I asked him to stay within five or six blocks of the hotel, though, so I'm sure he'll be back in time."
The ambassador's pale eyes widened suddenly, shoulders tensing up again. "But, Master Jinn, five blocks away to the west is one of the worst neighborhoods in Reshifc! Oh, I do apologize, I am so sorry you weren't informed, this area of town is very well developed, but we are still working to control the low-rent district, and the crime just keeps resurfacing, especially down on Onorda Street, oh dear, I hope he doesn't get into any trouble—"
"Ambassador Grenik," Qui-Gon interrupted, trying to calm the man's rising panic, even as his own small, sick fear rose in his heart. "Ambassador, there's no need. Obi-Wan may not have even headed in that direction. And if any trouble arises, he can take care of himself. I do not sense any danger for him."
"Oh, but, Master Jinn, are you completely sure? He's such a young boy, and I know you Jedi are special, but anything can happen, and it certainly would be a tragedy if—"
"Obi-Wan is strong and smart and capable," Qui-Gon said firmly. "He's been through much worse than this before. He even helped stop a centuries-old civil war, and he has escaped unharmed from situations that would have killed many a man much older and stronger than he." But not by himself, his heart whispered. Not when he was unaware of the danger. And he hasn't escaped completely unharmed, has he, Jinn?
Qui-Gon sighed. "He can handle one bad neighborhood," he concluded gently. Still, after he had calmed the man down and persuaded him not to send out a search party, and after he had procured the location of the reception and kindly seen the liaison out the door, the small sick fear in his heart still had not gone away.
He sat down on the couch, a small frown forming between his eyes. The Jedi relaxed against the cushions, closing his eyes and reaching out. Still he felt no danger. He accessed their bond, and came against some incredibly tight mental shields. Obi-Wan didn't want him in his head right now, and Qui-Gon would not betray the trust they had built by forcing his way in.
The Master tapped gently along the border of the shields, wanting to at least get an idea of what his Padawan was experiencing. At one point the shield was stretched rather thin, and Qui-Gon was disturbed by the turmoil he sensed roiling within. He couldn't get a sense of what was causing it, only feel that Obi-Wan was in a great deal of emotional distress. That was probably why he'd wanted to take a walk, to have a chance to work it out for himself.
Qui-Gon withdrew, the small frown playing on his lips, now. He had noticed the tension in the boy before now, the hunched shoulders, the guarded glances. How long had it been? A week, two? The Master had left it alone, sure that Obi-Wan would eventually come to him with whatever was bothering him. He was only thirteen, after all, still a child in many ways, edging cautiously into adolescence. Youngsters at that age were usually a bundle of nerves, struggling to make sense of the changes in their bodies and their spirits. If the boy couldn't resolve it on his own, he would seek Qui-Gon's help.
Still he sensed no physical danger to his apprentice. The walk would do him more good than harm, Qui-Gon was sure. He opened his eyes and sat up with a slight sigh. The Padawan's distress was troubling, but hardly unusual. Obi-Wan would be fine.
Qui-Gon went back to his reading.
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Obi-Wan's thoughts continued swirling downward. He realized what the word "father" meant. It meant love: fierce, protective, unconditional, all-encompassing love. That was what he wanted so badly. Because as long as Qui-Gon was just his Master, teacher, and friend, there was still the chance that it could all go away, that the Padawan could screw up in such a major way that there would be no chance for redemption, and Qui-Gon would drop him, push him away as he had many times already. Of course Obi-Wan had no intention of ever doing anything that incredibly horrible, but still, there was the chance. He might do it by accident, even. And that would be the worst of all. To see the disappointment in Qui-Gon's eyes, watch him turn his back, unable to scream that he didn't mean it, he'd never meant it to happen . . .
Force, why was he even thinking like this? He was a Jedi. Jedi did not fail in a such an egregious manner. Obi-Wan wouldn't let himself fail, because that would mean he was no longer a Jedi.
Was it wrong to want that kind of love? It was dangerous: it was a strong emotion; Jedi were supposed to be calm and avoid attachments like that. Obi-Wan was sure that it was wrong to crave it, but he could not make the longing go away.
Because, he realized as his heart sank yet further toward the cracked pavement, he already loved Qui-Gon that way. Had from the very first. It hadn't been a decision on Obi-Wan's part; it had simply happened. And it was far too late to take it back now. It was part of him.
Qui-Gon would never be able to return this depth of unconditional commitment, Obi-Wan knew. It was unbefitting a Jedi, and Qui-Gon Jinn was a great Jedi, the greatest in the history of the galaxy as far as his Padawan was concerned. No, he couldn't.
Qui-Gon had an enormous heart, Obi-Wan knew. He was always picking up one pathetic lifeform or another—he lavished his compassion and help freely on all he met. In fact, Obi-Wan thought with a slightly hysterical chuckle, it might be better for him if he weren't such a good Jedi Padawan. The surest way to get into the big Jedi's heart was to be small and hurt and weak. If Obi-Wan got himself injured, or deathly ill, or kidnapped by some sadistic megalomaniac and worked over a bit so that Qui-Gon had to come rescue him, it might be a good thing. It might make the Master appreciate the Padawan more, love him more.
No, this was a ridiculous line of thought. Obi-Wan had been beaten viciously by a Hutt on the Monument on the way to Bandomeer, and that certainly hadn't made Qui-Gon like him any better. He'd simply helped Obi-Wan heal the same way he would help any stray animal he found lying injured in the gutter. And there was no way Obi-Wan was going to let himself get hurt. That would be completely unbefitting of a Jedi. Obi-Wan would not act in a way that was unbefitting to a Jedi. He was strong and well-trained, and he would not disappoint his teachers and Master by being a pathetic fool. Even though he couldn't get rid of these feelings that were so obviously unbefitting . . . .
He ought to be able to control feelings, but he couldn't. So he would control his actions instead.
There was no help for it. He was simply going to have to shove this away again, chain it under the strongest shields he knew how to make, and hope that it wouldn't grow strong enough to break away from his control. Grimly Obi-Wan packed it all away into a neat little box, the love, the longing, the fear, the guilt, the gut-wrenching pain, and buried it in the deepest parts of his mind, tying it down with every control he knew. It was going to be a constant drain on his strength, keeping all of that locked away forever, but he would have to do it. There was no other way.
At last the Padawan stood calm and still in the middle of sidewalk, his eyes closed, slowly regaining his equilibrium. He found his center and relished the sensation of being back in control of himself, and carefully lowered his shields to normal strength. Qui-Gon would never invade his mind and find that box, he knew. It was safe, for now.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking a little at the sunset as it faded behind the buildings ahead. It was a large red sun, and the sunset was magnificent, with all colors in the warm spectrum: russet, gold, deep orange. It didn't do much to warm his chilled spirit, though.
"No, no! Lemme 'lone! I didn't do nothin'!"
The Jedi turned sharply at that young, shrill voice, hearing an edge of pain beneath the words. He realized that the neighborhood he was in was not entirely savory, and the pedestrian traffic had slowed to a trickle. He couldn't see anyone for a block in either direction. Everyone was at home.
Except for . . . Obi-Wan took a few steps toward the alley a few meters ahead. He heard scuffling noises, the sounds of boots on pavement, gruff chuckles. It sounded like quite a few people. A gang?
"Don't matter watcha did, vrelt." That voice belonged to a young man, and the Padawan heard pleasure and cruelty in it. "It's sorta just that you exist."
Obi-Wan jerked at the sound of a blow, followed by low, muffled sobs. The crying was in the voice of a young child, surely no older than ten. More blows. Obi-Wan halted, his hands clenching into fists. It sounded like a gang of bullies had decided to beat up on a little kid. Briefly he reached out to the Force and extended his senses into the alley, making sure that his theory was correct. It was, and he acted without another thought.
Activating his lightsaber and using the Force to amplify his presence, Obi-Wan stepped into the alleyway. "Leave him alone!" he commanded, willing his voice to sound deep and full and intimidating. He swept the glowing blade menacingly through the air, daring them to doubt his authority.
Five or six youths looked up, wide-eyed, from where they were clustered against one wall a few meters into the alley. They saw a huge Jedi, his face invisible in his hood, shining lightsaber seeming to reach to the heavens. Instantly they fled, heading for the opposite end of the alley and the sunset-lit street beyond.
Obi-Wan lowered his lightsaber and rushed over to the small figure they had abandoned, who lay crumpled, deathly still, against the wall.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Stay interested, okay? Let me know if it gets boring. (If it isn't already.)I don't have very much of this pre-written, and I'll need to know someone's listening, or it will be a lot harder for me to keep going. Real life kind of sucks for me right now. (This may be coming out in some vicarious angst, later.) Keep reading!