Author's Note: Gasp! Ten reviews! That's the most I've ever gotten for a single chapter. Thanks so much! Thanks also for the concern about my hands. I'm doing okay. It's not constant. I do need to get to the doctor though.

So here's another chapter, and it's aday early. Huzzah for me! I was motivated.

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Candles Against the Sea
Chapter 6: Vindication

Focus on the moment, focus on the moment . . .

It was incredible, really, how distracted and unfocused Obi-Wan could be. Here he was, in the middle of a fist-fight, for crying out loud, and his mind kept wanting to wander. He had been aware of his Master's presence from the moment Qui-Gon stepped to the edge of the crowd, but he had deliberately cut off most of his Force sense, and so had no clue what the man was thinking. Was he pleased, proud, disappointed, irritated, disgusted, bored? The Padawan could imagine any of those reactions, but the first two seemed the least likely.

Focus on the moment!

Obi-Wan blocked another punch, side-stepped another sweeping kick to the ankles. This fellow, Tronak, had the vast advantage in strength, height and downright bulk, but he had virtually no training. If the Padawan hadn't been so exhausted that he couldn't see straight yesterday, the Sylelian youth never would have gotten in that shot to the eye. An eighth-year initiate could probably take him, even without the Force.

So why is this taking so long? Focus, Kenobi!

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. He caught Tronak's fist in his own as it sailed past his face, but the older youth broke the grip with a slight grunt, exerting almost no effort to do so. Obi-Wan had been fighting defensively, taking a few hits to the mid-section, though no bad ones, ducking or blocking most blows. It was the way a Jedi fought, but it was earning him no respect from these bullies, and respect was what he needed to earn.

"Go for it, Tronak!" a gang member screamed in the cacophony of egging-on that had been continuing since the fight began.

"Rip his eyeballs out! Show 'im he don't belong here!"

"Show 'im he can't mess with the Gray Knights!"

"Nights?" Obi-Wan asked between pants for air as he ducked another swing and circled, ending up on Tronak's right side. "You named yourself after a time of day?"

Tronak growled as he turned to face the slippery kid who kept evading his fists. "Knights, you idiot, not Nights! As in 'the gray knights approach on black horses as the pale moon rides above'?"

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised by the quotation of Alderaanian poetry. "Oh, knights!" he repeated, blocking a strong downward blow with crossed wrists. "As in, the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy? Is that why you feel it is within your rights to hurt and belittle a helpless child?"

"What, that little vrelt?" Tronak aimed a blow that should have split Obi-Wan's lips and loosened half his teeth, grunting with frustration as it only grazed by that smooth, gold-tinted cheek. "He deserves everything he gets! I don't understand why you wanted to fight over him, of all things. You ain't no Jedi! Jedi take care of big, important things, like presidents and wars and solar systems under siege. You're just another do-gooder from uptown, thinking you can stick your perfect nose in here and tell us what to do!"

Obi-Wan was distantly amazed that the gang leader could find breath enough for that tirade. Tronak was panting steadily now, sweat dripping down his none-too-clean chin to splash on faded garments and a worn leather vest. This fight had gone on much longer than the usual fisticuffs Tronak was used to deciding with only a few heavy, well-aimed punches.

The Padawan nodded gently. "Yes, Jedi guard presidents and solar systems. But we also care about children on the streets, and young men who have no direction. It is a shame that the 'larger' things so often prevent us from taking care of the rest. All are equally important."

Tronak paused for a bare moment, delicately balanced with one foot forward and a fist cocked to swing, and gave his opponent a confused look. "You make no sense at all."

Obi-Wan reflected sadly that that was probably true as the Sylelian launched his offensive again. He blocked three blows in quick succession, then sighed in exasperation. Enough. It was time to end this.

The Padawan knocked the incoming fists wide, and jabbed in with his own punch, lightning-quick, before the bigger boy could react. He jumped back lightly, using a footwork move from the fourth kata. Tronak reeled slightly, then straightened with an almost audible snap, dark eyes blazing.

With a low roar, he leaped for Obi-Wan again, limbs flailing. The Padawan grunted as the spiked boot connected with his knee—he hadn't anticipated the kick in time, busy twisting away from the flying fists. He really missed the Force.

He used the impetus from the strike to pivot and strike out with his own round-house kick. It caught Tronak in the chest, throwing him back into the arms of his cronies. The tight circle around them shifted a bit as their positions moved. Obi-Wan threw himself after the older youth, aware that he could not waste time, had to take advantage of momentary weakness.

They crashed to the ground, Obi-Wan on top, pinning Tronak's arms with his knees. Utterly calm, he pounded the gang leader's face with all the strength he had, the muscles toned by years of intense training making him far more formidable than his youth and stature advertised. He was a Jedi. He fought to defend the defenseless.

And he fought very well indeed.

Tronak hadn't had any idea what he was getting to when he agreed to this brutal "duel." Now he began to get an inkling, and realization in his dark eyes quickly flashed to panic, barely visible as Obi-Wan's fist flashed up and down. With a convulsion of his entire body, he threw the younger boy off and rolled onto his knees, making it to his feet before the young Jedi could recover his position.

They stood for a moment, panting. The crowd around had become tensely silent, the gang members shocked by the momentary defeat of their champion, the bystanders eager to see what would come next. Tronak looked Obi-Wan squarely in the eye, blood dripping from his nose and his chin, and there it was. Respect.

That was it, then. What Obi-Wan had come for. He stood straight, and gave the bully a stiff little bow, never taking his eyes from other's face.

Tronak aimed a kick at his head.

Obi-Wan snapped straight and caught the foot, twisting it. It had not been a good kick, neither graceful nor balanced, and Tronak started to fall, yelling in surprise and rage. Obi-Wan lunged forward as he released the foot, grabbed the older boy's collar to hold him up, and slammed one last punch into his face.

Then he let go and let him fall. Tronak crashed bonelessly to the pavement, eyes shut, face mangled with bruises. Obi-Wan looked at the gang that crowded around, a warning in his eyes. He was ready for them, if they decided to break the bonds of the agreement.

The side of his mouth quirked in satisfaction as they swayed slightly back, giving him room. One of Tronak's lieutenants knelt at his side, trying to wake him.

"Don't attack me again," Obi-Wan said quietly, his words carrying to every corner of the small crowd. He held himself straight, like the Jedi he was. "Don't lay a finger on Nibbi. I did this on my own, as we agreed." How much do you think I can with the Force? he implied to the gang, though he said nothing aloud, wanted to keep at least a shred of his cover as an observer—he wouldn't just shout it out now. "Touch that little boy again, and I'll know. I do not seek revenge, but I'm a strong believer in justice."

With the cause of excitement gone, the crowd began to break up. Tronak's gang dragged him away. Obi-Wan simply stood there, watching. No one said a word to him.

"Obi, Obi!"

The Padawan turned just in time to catch the little boy who hurled himself into his arms. He grunted softly, staggered just a bit, then caught his balance and hugged the boy tightly. "Hi, Nibbi."

He set the child down and looked up his Master, who stood a few feet away, his face impassive. "Hello . . ." He wasn't sure what to call him now, if they should even bother pretending not to be Jedi.

"This's Quig!" Nibbi said excitedly, tugging on the man's broad hand. "He's nice! He sorta makes me think of you. Do you know each other or somethin'?"

Qui-Gon grinned, and Obi-Wan felt his brow wrinkle in confusion. "Um, yeah, Nibbi. He's . . ."

"I'm his uncle." Qui-Gon stepped in smoothly. "We're visiting Sylelius on business. Though Obi consistently finds other ways to occupy his time."

"Yeah!" Nibbi turned back to Obi-Wan, little face beaming with excitement. "That was so maj, Obi! Tronak went down like a speeder with a busted repulsor. Neeeeowwmm-POOSH!" He demonstrated, gliding his flat hand down as if heading toward the ground, then bunching both fists together and bursting them apart in an explosion of small dancing fingers. He giggled, a broad, crooked grin spreading across his face, and looked almost sleepy with gleeful contentment. "It was maj," he repeated in a reverent tone.

Obi-Wan was completely taken with that little giggle. He would do quite a lot, he considered, to hear it again, and frequently. The young Jedi carefully lowered himself on one knee, ignoring the new aches and pains that yelped for his attention, and placed a gentle hand on the little one's shoulder.

"I did it for you, Nibbi," he said softly. "They won't bother you again if they know what's good for them."

The small boy regarding him soberly, dark eyes suspiciously bright. "No one ever fought for me b'fore," he whispered. "No one. Not ever."

"Well, that's changed now, hasn't it?"

Nibbi nodded, ducking his head. He picked up Obi-Wan's free hand in his little ones, intently studying the bruised and bloody knuckles. The child ran small, shaking fingers over the wounds, and Obi-Wan didn't mind at all that they were a bit dirty.

"It's all right, Nibbi. It doesn't hurt much, really. Uncle Quig and I will take care of them when we get back to where we're staying. Remember how I helped your back?"

Nibbi looked up at the older boy with a bright smile, one tear tracking through the grime on his cheek. "Yeah. I betcha you can do anything, Obi."

Obi-Wan grinned back, and moved his hand from the little shoulder to wipe away the tear. "Why don't we get something to eat?"

The little vrelt's eyes widened in astonishment. "Doncha hafta get back?" He gave "Quig" a wary glance.

"I have a few more people I need to talk to," Qui-Gon said smoothly. "You two have a nice meal in that café down the street, and I'll be back in half an hour or so."

"Fair enough?" the young Jedi asked. "Good thing that café isn't the nicest in town. We probably look like brothers now, all dirty and scratched up."

Nibbi giggled. "Fair enough." He threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck in a tight hold. The Padawan just barely avoided making a choking sound, and hugged him back

Obi-Wan looked up at his Master, and Qui-Gon gave him a deep, measuring look. I think you're well on your way to earning his trust, the older Jedi mouthed, knowing the Padawan could read his lips. "See you soon."

And he walked away, still without any indication of what he'd thought of the fight. Obi-Wan fought the sinking feeling in his chest. Just how badly had he done?