TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING
AUTHOR: Cascadia
CHAPTER 2 - DREAMS OR REALITY
Music streamed gently, wafting through the air, filling the atmosphere with its sweet, tender melody - providing a tranquilizing backdrop for the dining hall's guests. Spacious - but filled to capacity - the 'Starstreamer's' elegant dining room flourished with the wealthy in their best attire. There, the rich paraded by, flashing, flaunting sparkling gems, the most opulent silks and satins - in the richest colors - majestic, pompous, and pretentious in every action to promote themselves - or their wealth. The graceful marble columns periodically spaced throughout the hall held up a stone, sculptured ceiling.
There, in the midst of that vain display of affluence, sat two men in the plainest brown-colored, simple robes ever present in that glorious hall. Unornamented, unadorned, and homely, they provided a source for gawking by those too blind to know the difference between success and riches.
"Master," Obi-Wan began. "How long will this trip be? I feel," he paused, glancing around, "out of place here."
Nodding his understanding, Qui-Gon smiled, "Obi-Wan, this is an upscale passenger liner - the best in the Core Worlds. I have travelled on this ship before, usually on solo missions, because I didn't want to drag a young boy through this. But, I think you're old enough to handle it now, padawan. And besides, it was the quickest departure I could arrange," he explained.
"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan replied. "But, do they have to stare?" his eyebrows raised in question.
"They don't have to... but they will," Qui-Gon's eyes sparkled.
Shyly smiling at the sly comment, Obi-Wan's gaze flitted to the table before him. Feeling out of place only strengthened the padawan's misery. The entire atmosphere here loomed like a terrible dream. His experience one week ago had sent him spiralling into a descending state of diffidence where his confidence was shrinking. And the staring - as well as every other exaggerated luxury - did little to soothe his distress.
Staring at his padawan, Qui-Gon watched as the young man nervously adjusted his robe. Obi-Wan was not like himself, the Jedi master conceded. He had not been since Dajer's death. True, that type of circumstance changes people, but the padawan had just met the man. And, while those that grieve learn to cope with time, Obi-Wan seemed to be getting worse - his digression too imperceptible for Qui-Gon to have noticed before through his own mourning. But, it had been a week, and the Jedi master had moved beyond his grieving.
Why did he not see this before? Was he so blind as to not notice the desolation that now coiled itself around his padawan's heart - squeezing so subtly, so imperceptibly, slowly choking the life from him. How could he have let this happen? This was his padawan. His responsibility. And, until Obi-Wan moved beyond that position of being his responsibility, then the young man was his to look after and guide to become a knight. And, Qui-Gon reasoned, anything that came in the way, was his responsibility to fight and defeat - not Obi-Wan's.
Was it only the man's death that struck so deeply at his padawan's heart, or was there something more? Obi-Wan had faced the dead before, seen things most young men his age would never see in their entire lifetime, so why would this one man's death bring such a heaviness. The padawan knew his master cared for Dajer, but there appeared to be something deeper, more firmly rooted, that Obi-Wan could not dispose.
What terrible secret lay veiled by those radiant aquamarine eyes?
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, uncertainly.
"Yes, Master?" the young man's eyes rose, almost meeting his master's - but not quite.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon started again.
The young man bit his lower lip, his gaze frozen on Qui-Gon's beard. Pain - or something else disturbing - danced behind his eyes. "What is it, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, frowning.
"How... how are you, padawan?" he managed to say.
Obi-Wan's eyes fell back to the table. "I'm fine, Master," he said quietly, nervously playing with his robe again.
Frowning, Qui-Gon swept his gaze away from his padawan. The young man did not look well, but he would not tell Qui-Gon what was wrong. That was Obi-Wan. He would hide any problem he had from his master, never tell him, if he could get away with it.
The Jedi master had pondered over why it was that Obi-Wan kept these problems locked away - not wanting to show weakness. It was not wanting to appear better than the other initiates or padawans, nor was it overconfidence. His sense of his own unworthiness proved that, carrying it to an extreme. Perhaps, it was fear. That deeply rooted fear that threatened to send Obi-Wan away to the Agri-Corps. That fear that turned to anger as he sparred with the other initiates. That fear of never being good enough, never being accepted as a padawan, never becoming a Jedi Knight.
And, that insecurity was only strengthened by Qui-Gon's initial rejection of him. How the Jedi master wished he could go back and change that - to salvage his padawan's security, assure him that he would never be sent away. But, that could never be. He could not change the past, but only live in the now and prepare Obi-Wan, as best as he could, for a future.
And now, Obi-Wan was NOT fine. Of that, Qui-Gon was sure. But... how could he get the young man to open up and tell him what the problem was? How in the galaxy would he ever find out?
"Qui-Gon," came a booming, cheerful voice behind him. "Qui-Gon, it's so good to see you."
Turning toward the voice, Qui-Gon smiled, "Flane Rasicher."
Obi-Wan watched the broad-shouldered man stop beside his master. The two men heartily shook hands.
"Won't you sit down?" Qui-Gon asked politely, as he stood.
The man looked to be considering Qui-Gon's offer. "Oh... if you really want me to. I can't stay long, but there is something I need to discuss with you... sometime."
"No. Please sit down," the Jedi master insisted, sitting back down and gesturing to an empty chair.
Flane sat his broad form in a chair facing Qui-Gon. The man stood tall - though not achieving Qui-Gon's height - broad of shoulder, with a trim waist, balding scalp of black hair, and dignified facial features. He looked at Obi-Wan, who was watching him curiously.
"Don't let this man confuse you," Flane confided to the padawan. "Qui-Gon is NOT the best swordsman in the Order. He just thinks he is," he winked, dragging a half smile from Obi-Wan. "So," he turned back to Qui-Gon, "how did you get on this ship, Qui-Gon? I thought they sprayed for pests," he chuckled.
Smiling, Qui-Gon said, "Flane Rasicher, I want to meet my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Jedi master glanced at his padawan. The young man still looked a little distant, but not as much as he did before Flane sat down.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Flane paused, his eyes peering up, as if in thought. "You aren't the Obi-Wan Kenobi that breaks all the girls' hearts on Coruscant, are you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Blushing, Obi-Wan's gaze fell to the table.
"No?" Flane laughed, turning back to Qui-Gon. "You really ought to let this boy get out, Qui-Gon. He's liable to live his whole life in seclusion."
"Flane is an old friend of mine, Obi-Wan," the Jedi master informed his padawan.
"I may be a friend, but I'm not old," Flane smiled. "Not as old as you are, anyway, Qui-Gon," he added, mischievously.
"He used to help me get inside information from criminal investigations that the Republic handled on various planets," Qui-Gon explained.
"I USED to help you, huh?" Flane said, craftily.
"Yes," Qui-Gon answered. "What happened? Did they relegate you to cleaning the 'freshers again?" he quipped.
"Oh, no. I'm still doing the same thing. I just don't find out anything useful anymore," Flane explained. "Which reminds me. Did you hear about Dajer Quaykin?" he turned serious.
Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, who was starting to look lost again. "Yes, Flane," he answered. "That's why we're on this ship. To talk to his family."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Flane said. "Dajer sent me a message two weeks ago that stated he had some important information he needed to tell me. But, I never got a chance to talk to him before he died," he explained, resting his elbows on the table. "I was wondering if he'd said anything to you, Qui-Gon."
"No, I haven't..." the Jedi master paused to correct his mistake, "didn't talk to Dajer after last month."
Obi-Wan watched silently as his master tried to conceal the pain of Quaykin's death. The padawan knew it was all his fault, and the weight of darkness that had settled upon him seemed to grow heavier. Fighting to keep tears from forming, the padawan looked away from the table to reign in his swelling emotions.
"Well, I won't bother you any further," Flane said as he rose to his feet. "Perhaps we can talk more at some later time," he glanced at Obi-Wan before looking back to Qui-Gon. "Goodbye," the man added before walking away.
Qui-Gon turned his attention back to his padawan, who was very quiet. Obi-Wan's gaze hovered on the table top. "Obi-Wan?" he said, worriedly.
"Yes, Master?" the padawan said, with reservation.
"What... what are you going to have to eat?" Qui-Gon asked, choosing to broach the subject later.
Qui-Gon had found practically no time to talk with Obi-Wan alone in privacy the rest of the trip aboard the 'Starstreamer' - thanks in part to the many acquaintances of his that insisted on taking up his time. Even the passenger liner's owner - Erit Gashlet - served to be more than a host by giving the two Jedi a personal tour of the ship's public and private features. And, the times when the Jedi master arrived back at their guest suite - into late hours - he always discovered his padawan asleep.
Now at Jaross, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan left the generous comfort behind, riding a public transit to the home of Dajer Quaykin. The large, compact house rose five stories with dark grey walls of chiseled stone, and steep steps lead to a set of ornate double doors.
"Master Jinn," said the short, plump woman who answered the door. "Please come in," she stepped back to allow the two Jedi access. "I'll tell Mrs. Quaykin that you're here," she added, turning to leave the entry foyer where they stood.
Obi-Wan stole a sidelong peek at his master. The mounting anxiety inside of him was rising exponentially. Trying to curb it with the Force, he found that it was too far gone for him to bring it under any control - not without entering a deep meditative state. But, then Qui-Gon would be left wondering what the problem was. And that was something he desperately did not want.
He wanted nothing more than to turn and run away from this place, from this task that his master had asked of him. Far away he would be safe - he told himself. There would be no pressure, no reminders of THAT man - that terrible man who had tried to use him for some base, self-indulgent, sadistic pleasure. But, his selfless loyalty to Master Qui-Gon kept him from doing that. The last thing he wanted to do was to let his master down. He could not bear Qui-Gon's disappointment in him - no matter the torment he was forced to walk through to prevent it.
Both of them stood uncomfortably in silence - Qui-Gon clearing his throat nervously several times, completely oblivious to his padawan's internal struggles.
Suddenly there fell a curtain of vile darkness around the padawan - choking his slight grasp of the Force. And - if he didn't know better - the whole room fell into a state of smothering dimness, only... no one else seemed to notice. His weak attempts to break that stranglehold and strengthen his Force-sense waned, and the once comforting spark of life that kept him from drowning in that decadent pool of torment was suddenly snuffed out - pitting him at the mercy of the icy fingers of fate. He gasped involuntarily from the unexpected loss of Force-control.
"Qui-Gon," came a warm, inviting voice - covering Obi-Wan's gasp from his master's notice. The woman gracefully pranced up to the Jedi master, a generous smile crossing her lips. "It's so good to see you again," she said on her tiptoes, reaching up to hug him.
The woman appeared about fifty standard years old, with black hair pulled back into a complex pattern of braids near the back of her head. Tall and slender, she was nearly as big as Obi-Wan.
"Serenity," Qui-Gon said, returning the affection. "This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, as the woman released her hold on him. "Obi-Wan, this is Dajer's wife, Serenity." Glancing at his padawan as he introduced him, Qui-Gon was struck by how sickly pale the young man now appeared.
"Obi-Wan," the woman repeated as she hugged the pallid young man.
As she let go of him, Obi-Wan swayed slightly - too imperceptible for anyone to notice. Trying to stay vertical, he rested his hand against the wall to keep from falling to his knees - which was where he felt like going.
"Come," said Serenity. "Let's go in the other room where we'll be more comfortable."
Leading them through a hallway, past several open doorways, the woman stopped in a large room with a high vaulted ceiling and an antique fireplace. Qui-Gon followed directly behind her, with Obi-Wan following - much to his approval.
Sitting down slowly on a firm sofa, Obi-Wan felt a sick weakness bubbling inside. Although Serenity and his master remained standing, the padawan felt that he would definitely faint if he stayed on his feet. He hoped they would not find his lack of manners rude, but in his condition, he really didn't care what they thought. Swallowing with difficulty, he found the nausea only increased.
"I thank you so much, Qui-Gon, for coming in person," Serenity said, her eyes sincere. "I know what a busy life you lead."
"I thought that you should hear about Dajer... what happened just before he... died. Obi-Wan was the one with him," the Jedi master explained gently.
They both looked at the padawan sitting on the sofa, staring at the floor.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said, as he and Serenity walked over to stand in front of the sofa.
Obi-Wan looked up to see his master's slight disapproval evident in his eyes. He knew Qui-Gon thought it discourteous for him to sit - especially without being invited to. Clamping down on the rising anxiety, the padawan rose slowly - unsteadily - to his feet.
"Mrs. Quaykin," Obi-Wan's voice trembled. He paused, trying to attain any sense of control - for it seemed that any control he'd had now lay far beyond him - distant and unreachable.
As the padawan tried to bring his reeling emotions back in order, Serenity took the opportunity to speak. "Dajer was such a handsome man," she gestured to her right. "I loved him very much. I... still can't believe he's gone," her voice broke.
Obi-Wan turned to look at what she had indicated. There, on the wall above the fireplace mantle, hung a large portrait of Dajer Quaykin. The man's eyes stared from the picture, seeming to bore through the padawan. Frozen there - with those penetrating eyes staring through him - Obi-Wan held his breath, captivated by the man's power.
Suddenly, unbidden images of the assault pranced through his mind, pulling his consciousness from the present - from the room where he stood - back to that horrifying night. He saw the man push him to the duracrete, saw the knife, felt the man's hands, felt the breath against his neck, heard the man's voice, and - finally - saw him fall.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, catching the young Jedi as he swooned.
"Oh, my," whispered Serenity.
Lowering his padawan to the sofa, Qui-Gon Force-scanned him, finding him only unconscious. But, his mind remained tightly closed off to any intrusion.
"The poor boy. I thought he looked ill," the woman said, leaning over the padawan, next to Qui-Gon. "What's wrong with him, Qui-Gon?"
"I'm not sure," the Jedi master replied, puzzled. "He just fainted."
"There's a spare room on the second floor. Would you like to put him there? He could probably rest better than on that hard sofa," Serenity asked with concern.
Carrying the unconscious padawan, Qui-Gon followed Serenity up a flight of stairs - since there were no lifts in the house - to a small bedroom where he laid the young Jedi on the bed. Serenity brought a crystal bowl and began bathing the young man's face with a wet cloth.
"What's going on, Mother," came a voice from the doorway.
Qui-Gon turned to see a slim man around thirty years of age, with jet black hair and dark eyes - Dajer's eyes.
"Valan, this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice. They're Jedi," Serenity explained as she continued bathing the padawan's face. She turned from the bed, saying, "They're friends of Dajer's. They came here to tell me what happened just before he died," she finished softly. "Qui-Gon, this is my son, Valan. I don't think you ever met him."
"No, I haven't," Qui-Gon replied politely, directing a nod to the newcomer.
Returning the nod, the man came further into the room and stared at the padawan lying on the bed. "What's wrong with him?" he questioned.
"He fainted," she explained.
A weak moan brought everyone's attention back to Obi-Wan. Barely opening his eyes, he tried to remember where he was. His thoughts still fuzzy, the padawan turned his head to the side of the bed, seeing his master, Serenity, and some man he did not recognize.
But, when the man's eyes met his, Obi-Wan felt unable to look away. Fear quickly came and went, as the man turned and left the room, pulling a cold shiver from the padawan.
He knew it would prove difficult coming here. But this far surpassed what Obi-Wan had expected. His loss of Force-control now felt totally strained. While he could sense the Force, it felt exhausted and distant. Now unable to get any firm hold on it, he let what he could feel slip from his grasp, feeling too drained of energy to fight for it.
"How are you feeling now?" Serenity asked, smiling.
"I... I'm fine now. Thank you," Obi-Wan answered softly. Then, he looked to Qui-Gon, who was studying him intently.
"I'll have Pila make us some tea," the woman said before leaving Obi-Wan alone with his master.
The padawan checked to make sure his mental shields were closed up tightly. They already were, much to Qui-Gon's immediate chagrin.
"Obi-Wan, is there something wrong?" Qui-Gon said, frowning - projecting a sense of peace toward the young man. Although the Jedi master felt sure that something was bothering his padawan, he was perplexed as to what to do with that knowledge. If he pushed too hard, Obi-Wan might very well withdraw further - blocking him out more than he already was.
"No, Master," he answered quietly, keeping his eyes away from Qui-Gon.
"Are you sure," his master asked, with an underlying tone of disbelief.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered, still unable to look at him. He hated shutting out his master like this, but he saw no other way to keep the truth from him.
The crystal cups were exquisite with their fine, antique etchings all around. Fashioned into ancient warriors battling draigons, the etchings demanded to be noticed and admired. Each cup told a different story, but they all fit together like one long fairy tale. In hand, one cup felt as if it were barely there - the fine crystal so delicate it would break if held too tightly. Serenity's collection of crystal was only used during special occasions.
After Obi-wan recovered somewhat from fainting, they all gathered in a small dining room on the top floor. A large window opened on one side of the room, showing a wide view of the endless, rolling verdure hills behind the house.
"Do you need some more tea, Master?" Obi-Wan quietly asked his master - who was engaged in a deep conversation with Serenity and her son Valan. The padawan had noticed that the cup was empty minutes ago, but as much as Qui-Gon was in the conversation, he never noticed it was empty - and even attempted to drink from it several times.
Without saying a word or turning his eyes to the young man, Qui-Gon handed the crystal to Obi-Wan. Taking the cup, the padawan walked to the buffet table by the wall and proceeded to refill its contents.
"Dajer was planning on closing down his medical research facility until just a week before he died. Then, he just changed his mind," Serenity said, frowning. "He never really said why he wanted to close it. I assume it had something to do with a difference in opinion with the man he appointed as the president," she said, accusatory.
"Mother, Father and I just had a few different ideas. That wasn't why he wanted to close it down," Valan argued.
"That's what you say," the woman said evenly.
Obi-Wan listened as he picked up the carafe of cold tea, pouring the brew into his master's cup.
"How have you been since... since Dajer's passing," Qui-Gon asked, gently - attempting to change the subject.
The padawan turned from the buffet table with Qui-Gon's now full crystal cup in his hand.
"Well, I've been better," she answered with a trace of bitterness. "But, I know I'll make it..."
As she spoke, Obi-Wan stood, listening in silence - his mind drifting with her words, hearing them all too well. The life he had taken was lost forever, and nothing he could ever do would make up for that. Caught up in the dreadful winter chill that blew through his soul, killing all hope of returning to the joyful days before Quaykin's death, Obi-Wan let slip the crystal cup from his hand, and it fell - shattering to innumerable pieces on the floor.
The next thing he heard was Serenity's gasp as the whole room fell silent. Coming to his senses, he noticed the three others staring at him. He looked at his master, then to Serenity. "I'm... I'm sorry, Mrs. Quaykin," he whispered.
Calmly, Serenity rose from the table and, stopping in front of Obi-Wan, knelt to clean up the mess of crystal. Obi-Wan slid to his knees to help.
"I'll get it, Obi-Wan," Serenity said quietly.
Obi-Wan met his master's steady gaze momentarily before the padawan looked away quickly and fled from the room.