TITLE: SILENT SHATTERING
AUTHOR: Cascadia
CHAPTER 3 - VEIL OF SECRECY
Numbly watching the orchard of weeping Niqua trees gently swaying under the mid-day suns outside the large, ceiling-to-floor window in front of him, Obi-Wan tried to not think of that man anymore. Serenity's house offered several tiny observation rooms to gaze at the beauty of the surrounding landscape - while the front views offered glimpses of passing transits and other traffic, the others showed the visually-pleasing grass-covered hills and tree groves.
Dimly lit, so as to allow for greater viewing, the long, rectangular room consisted only of a long bench with walking space in front. Relieved to find the room empty, he had sat down to think. Or rather, not to think if he possibly could.
The outside light drifted in the tiny room through the window, softly illuminating the padawan's lovely face - the sorrow-filled pale blue depths of his eyes, brimming with bottomless pain. He shifted slightly, wrapping his robe more firmly around his slim waist, trying to fight off the imagined chill he felt threatening him.
When he had fled the room after breaking one of Serenity's antique crystal cups, he had searched for an appropriate place to seek solace from his internal turmoil. Not only did he feel embarrassed - and guilty - for destroying the antique cup, but he also feared Qui-Gon would somehow see through him, discovering his deepest, darkest secrets.
Fortunately, Qui-Gon had not forced him to recount the events leading up to Quaykin's death again. The Jedi master graciously repeated the story for Serenity, never asking Obi-Wan to add anything for him. But, hearing the sorrow Serenity harbored over her husband's passing pierced his heart, plunging him further into the bitter waters of pain - spawning a voracious, ravaging darkness. How could he ever recover from such torment? Did he even deserve to?
Something inside told him that he was merely paying for some unperceived, evil intention of his heart - that this was his lot - to blindly swim in the endless pools of fire and desolation for the rest of his unimportant, insignificant life.
He knew his Force control would be retrievable. But right now, any control he previously had lay far beyond his weary grasp. 'Draw near to the Force, and it will draw near to you', he remembered hearing his master say once. But, the overwhelming fear encircling him blinded him to its close proximity. And, his emotional fatigue kept him from battling for it at all.
Perhaps, he hoped, after this trip was over with and he was back at the Temple, then... maybe then, he could finally - permanently - put this all behind him. Maybe he would be fine then.
Closing his eyes tightly, he knew deep inside that it could never be. Brief though it may have been, he realized that even now he remained caught up in that one, terrible moment. He had never left it. All that he had endured at the hands of that man would forever be there - taunting, laughing, making merriment to his desperate, helpless struggle to leave it behind. Even after leaving this man's house, even after he returned to the Temple and never heard the man's name again - except perhaps on rare occasion - even then... there would be something dragging him back to the assault - something wickedly holding him captive.
"Why, Force?" he whispered, as the full-force of his despair erupted inside him, shuddering as the heavy weight settled. "Why me?" the fear in his voice almost tangible.
Even if Qui-Gon recovered completely, and everything else returned to normal, Obi-Wan would not. No matter what.
With the rousing horror of that realization too great to bear, Obi-Wan looked down at the lightsabre attached to his belt. It was an efficient weapon, capable of considerable damage. He ran his fingers along the side of it, feeling the strong, unyielding metal - the permanent, realistic quality of its existence. It was real. As real as his life. As real as Quaykin's death. Perhaps, if it were too unbearable to face the next day, the next moment... he could end it right now. Would he dare?
His hand settled on the grip of the weapon, tightening its grasp. Could he do such a thing? Would Qui-Gon be disappointed? Of course he would. Obi-Wan knew that. He just did not want to face it - like he did not want to face what happened with Quaykin.
"I can't," he whispered in the dim, empty room. Resting his face in his hands, he wiped tears away that spilled across his cheeks. "Why, Force? Why do I have to go on?" his soft voice gently broke.
"Obi-Wan?" came a quiet, tranquil voice, startling him for a heartbeat.
Immediately he clamped down on his mental shields, fearful of his master's intrusion - tightly sealing off his darkest secret, impenetrable to any siege.
He heard the rustle of cloth and felt the comforting presence of his master. Keeping his face hidden by his hands, he turned toward the wall at the end of the bench, away from Qui-Gon, before letting his hands fall to his lap. There, he leaned against the cool wall with his face turned away from his master.
Had Qui-Gon heard him? Did he know what was going through his padawan's mind? The hopelessness? The dread?
Obi-Wan sensed his master sit next to him. He closed his eyes, praying that Qui-Gon would go away. Then, he felt his master's hand clasp the nape of his neck.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon softly said after a momentary pause. "We need to talk."
A long, strained silence followed, during which neither one moved. Obi-Wan's heart raced, seemingly impossible to halt its wild fluttering.
No. He did not want to talk. He did not want to be in his master's presence if that meant having to face that one event. Why wouldn't Qui-Gon leave him alone? Did the Jedi master suspect anything? There was no way he could, was there? As questions raced through his mind, Obi-Wan knew he was close to losing what little control he had.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon tried for a response again. "Obi-Wan, talk to me," he gently said with a tone of desperation.
Shaking his head slightly, the padawan remained turned toward the wall.
A banging noise interrupted the stretching silence. Qui-Gon glanced out of the rectangular room, finding Pila - the plump housemaid - hard at work, cleaning the adjoining room.
"We need to talk, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon explained, returning his attention back to his apprentice. "Let's find someplace private so we can." Then, he stood, attempting to pull his padawan to his feet.
"No," Obi-Wan jerked his arm out of his master's grip, remaining turned toward the wall. "I don't want to talk," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Then, at least let me talk to you. But," Qui-Gon paused, "we need to go somewhere else." Seeing the padawan still unmoving, he added, "please, Obi-Wan."
"No," came the quiet reply, followed by a shaky breath.
"What is so terrible that you have to hide it from me," asked Qui-Gon calmly, with a touch of concern.
"I'm not hiding anything," the padawan said, hollowly.
"Then why are you acting like this?" Qui-Gon crouched in front of Obi-Wan trying to get the young man to look at him. But, the young Jedi's eyes were downcast, staring at the floor.
"I'm… not acting anyway," the padawan stumbled over the words, simply trying to evade answering the question - the lack of steadiness in his voice clearly evident.
Sighing, Qui-Gon stood up. He was out of ideas. It was very clear to Qui-Gon that something was wrong with Obi-Wan. And, he had a feeling that it had to do with Dajer Quaykin. Although he could not conceive what the problem might be, he knew that Obi-Wan had been different since the man's death. And, unless he could get Obi-Wan to tell him or open his shields enough to let Qui-Gon see for himself, then there was nothing the Jedi master could do to help.
Qui-Gon knew that he had helped to foster this lack of trust that existed between he and his padawan. It all went back to that insistent fear - and the rejection. And now it had blossomed into a lack of trust from Obi-Wan. The padawan would not confide in his master even when something horrific held him in its grasp.
"Obi-Wan, if you don't want to talk, then you don't have to. But at least let me talk to you." Qui-Gon crouched again in front of his padawan, searching his face. "Please. Let's go to another room so I can," he finished, sending a small spark of Force-enhanced calm to the young man.
Hoping that Obi-Wan would be more acquiescent, Qui-Gon gently pulled the young man to his feet. Then, he led his padawan through the room with Pila, into the hallway, and towards the end of the hall where he sensed no one.
The whole way, Obi-Wan's heart pounded unbearably. Taking several deep breaths did little to pause the growing nausea, nor steady his racing heart. By the time they reached the small study at the end of the hall, his breathing was nearly out of control.
Once they crossed the room's threshold, the Jedi master quickly half-dragged his padawan across the room and sat him on a plush lounge.
Obi-Wan's eyes frantically watched Qui-Gon as he retrieved a small glass and filled it with water from a carafe he spied on a table. Then, he pushed the glass in his padawan's trembling hand - keeping his large hand over the young man's so that he would not drop the glass.
Crouching before Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon steadily meet his padawan's wild gaze, holding it while he spoke. "Now, don't tell me nothing's wrong with you, padawan," he gently and calmly said.
Obi-Wan's unfathomable, blue eyes just grew larger. He knew there was no way he could deny that to Qui-Gon - not after this. As a cold shiver ran through him, he tried to control his panting breaths.
Projecting waves of calm through the Force to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon pushed the glass up to his padawan's lips, still helping to hold the cup steady. "Drink, Obi-Wan," he gently ordered.
The padawan took several small sips of water. Then, as his breathing became less labored, he slowly swallowed larger gulps.
When Obi-Wan appeared more in control, Qui-Gon took the glass from him and replaced it on the table. Then, he slipped the padawan's robe off his shoulders, peeling the sleeves from his arms, and tossed the heavy cloak to the floor.
Distraught - and his breathing still unsteady - Obi-Wan was fully compliant as the Jedi master gently pushed his padawan to lie back on the lounge. Then, Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the chair, facing Obi-Wan. The padawan's eyes stared dully at his master, the look of despondency glazing over them. It pained him so badly to see Obi-Wan this broken.
Obi-Wan stared at the man before him - the man's face drawn with worry. If his master condemned him, then he would face it - he would willingly pay for whatever mistakes he made. He would rather face his judgement than live in this never-ending torment, keeping it bottled up inside of him. Even if Qui-Gon's disappointment in - and complete, irreversible rejection of - him destroyed him, he would rather live with that than let the merciless darkness suffocate his tortured soul.
"Master, I..." Obi-Wan's voice wavered, close to reversing his decision.
Leaning toward his padawan, Qui-Gon waited patiently for him to finish. He wanted to give the padawan every opportunity to say whatever he wanted, whatever he needed to say.
"Master," Obi-Wan started again, searching for the right words to tell what he wanted Qui-Gon to know. If only his master already knew. "Master, I... I..." he tried to push himself into a sitting position. "I Force-pushed him, Master," he forced out in a trembling voice.
"Force-pushed?" Qui-Gon echoed, his midnight blue eyes searching his young apprentice's face. "Who?"
The padawan closed his eyes, seeking the elusive tranquility that he knew he would not find.
"Dajer?" the Jedi master asked, guessing, but not entirely believing Obi-Wan's confession.
Obi-Wan's eyes shot open, inadvertently sending a wisp of panic through the Force. Holding his breath, the padawan simply nodded. His eyes remained transfixed on his master, wanting understanding and unconditional acceptance. He was so afraid that Qui-Gon would condemn him for his mistake - for taking the life of a friend. No matter what the man had done to him, Obi-Wan feared that his blunder would severely damage - if not destroy - the trust that his master had in him. And, he so desperately needed that trust and acceptance, especially now.
Although Obi-Wan did not elaborate on what resulted from the Force-push, the Jedi master suspected that was the reason Dajer fell and died. But the question remained of why Obi-Wan was compelled to push the man. What had happened that would make Obi-Wan do something like that? Qui-Gon knew the padawan would never do such a thing unless he possessed a good reason. But, Dajer would never do anything that should have made Obi-Wan Force-push him. His mind recoiled at the thought. It was all very confusing to the Jedi master.
"Master... I... didn't mean to... " Obi-Wan tightly closed his pain-filled eyes, "kill him," he breathed. Fearful of seeing Qui-Gon's reaction, the padawan kept his eyes closed. Feeling his master's large hands lightly grip his arms, he let out a shaky breath.
Seeing the trembling fear that gripped Obi-Wan, and confused by what he was hearing, Qui-Gon cautiously asked, "why... why did you Force-push him?"
At that, the padawan fell limp in Qui-Gon's hands. The Jedi master lowered him back on the lounge. Reaching out to Obi-Wan's mind, Qui-Gon bumped into those barricaded shields again. What did he have to do to gain his padawan's trust, to encourage Obi-Wan to tell him everything?
"I can't help you if you won't let me," the Jedi master quietly said. He watched his padawan's face contort into a mask of pain.
Turning on his side away from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan whispered, "I... can't tell you." The humiliation, the embarrassment, of what had happened cut too deeply in Obi-Wan's sensitive heart to ever tell anyone - even Qui-Gon. He felt certain he could never speak of it.
Staring at his padawan's silken ginger hair, Qui-Gon wondered if he could ever breach Obi-Wan's fearfully constructed walls to see what lay hiding behind them, smothering the poor boy's trust and confidence. Somberly, the Jedi master stood and retreated from the room, seeking time to think.
After Qui-Gon was sufficiently distanced further down the hall, Obi-Wan allowed his tears to blossom into jerking sobs. He wept alone in the small study, feeling his master's presence recede to the other end of the house. After a short time, he drifted into a fatigue-inspired, deep sleep - oblivious to all around him.
In a state of shock from Obi-Wan's unexpected - and disquieting - confession, Qui-Gon wandered back to where Serenity was busy clearing the table. He knew the padawan would have a good reason to do what he did, at least... he hoped. To think that his padawan would make such a terrible mistake was unthinkable. But, why would Obi-Wan not tell him the reason?
Serenity looked up nervously when the tall Jedi master entered the room. As Qui-Gon stopped beside the table, she sauntered over to the doorway and peered down the hall.
She turned back toward him, smiling, "Qui-Gon, I want to show you Dajer's collection of speeders. I know you'll find them intriguing."
With a polite nod, he replied, "I'd be pleased."
Taking an old, beat-up speeder, the pair set off out across the dew-covered, winding hills - heading into an endless expanse of the grassy mounds.
"This is not one of Dajer's best speeders," Serenity laughed, her black braided hair mussing from the wind. "It was only used for emergencies... or when we wanted to sneak away for a few hours without Valan knowing." She glanced at the Jedi master who was driving the vehicle. "Valan never checks on this speeder. I don't think he even knows that it runs. That's why we keep it behind the garage," she explained. "Turn here," she pointed toward a grove of spindly trees to the left.
Qui-Gon dove the speeder past the clump of trees and around the side of a small warehouse, parking where Serenity indicated. Then, the Jedi master followed the woman into the building.
Lined along both sides of the long warehouse were nearly twenty speeders, each with their own unique design. Serenity strolled down the middle, Qui-Gon in step with her.
"Dajer had a thing about speeders," the woman said, her dark eyes sweeping over the large display. "He used to love coming out here to work on them... away from everybody and everything. I wish he could have showed them to you himself, but he kept all of this mostly a secret. That was the kind of man he was," her voice dropped in volume. "That was why he proved to be so valuable to his friends like the Jedi," she came to a standstill in the middle of the building, looking at Qui-Gon.
"An impressive collection, Serenity. But, that's not why you brought me out here, is it," he said matter-of-factly.
She took a deep breath before answering. "No, it's not." She glanced at the doorway where they had entered.
Qui-Gon waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. He had no reason to think there was any danger. He had known the woman and her late husband for years, and the Force sent him no warning, either.
"Qui-Gon, what I need to tell you is confidential. You can tell Obi-Wan if you want, but be careful who you tell," she cautioned.
Qui-Gon nodded, prompting her to continue.
Leaning towards Qui-Gon, she spoke in a whisper. "Dajer is not dead. The man that came to Coruscant and died was a surgically-altered replacement - a man named Nim Tarren." She paused looking around self-consciously.
Qui-Gon finally regained his voice. "Are you sure about this?" he asked in disbelief.
Serenity nodded, whispering, "the real Dajer is being held captive by Valan."
"How do you know? The autopsy confirmed it was Dajer," the Jedi master said with a questioning gaze.
"I KNOW my husband, Qui-Gon," her eyes hardened. "Valan must have sent the wrong medical records. And besides that, I overheard the imposter talking to Valan about Dajer. They have him imprisoned somewhere," worry crept into her tone.
"Why would they have someone pose as him?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning.
"Because Dajer found out something that Valan was doing at the medical facility that he didn't approve of," she glanced around self-consciously again.
"Do you know what that might be?" Qui-Gon asked, wondering if that was why Dajer had contacted his friend Flane.
"I'm not sure. But, you have to help me find Dajer... alive," she pleaded.
"Of course, Serenity," the Jedi master replied. "Why didn't he cancel his trip to Coruscant?" he asked. "Wasn't he afraid that someone might notice it wasn't him?"
"Because the real Dajer was looking forward to the trip so much that it would have looked too suspicious if he cancelled. And, besides... if his own wife didn't notice, then why would someone else?" her eyes darkened.
Qui-Gon knew the name Nim Tarren. He was a wanted fugitive with a long list of crimes ranging from serial killing to conspiracy to rape - rape being his biggest weakness. The man was infamously unstable.
Qui-Gon's mind felt overloaded with all this new information. This was all so overwhelming. First Obi-Wan confesses to accidentally killing Dajer. Then Serenity tells him that Dajer was still alive, imprisoned by his own son.
Dajer still lived... and the man that Obi-Wan picked up at the spaceport was... a dangerous fugitive?
Lying intimately across Obi-Wan's face, the padawan braid gently slid past his nose, irritating the sleeping young man. Awakening, he opened his eyes, reaching up to push the softly woven strand behind his ear. The red rimming of his eyes - caused by shed tears - did little to distract from the alluring luminous glow that never seemed to leave them. He glanced around the room finding he was alone.
Trailing mental images of the nightmare he just woke from scampered to the back of his mind. Trying to sweep the frightening memories away, the padawan focused on the here and now, as his master encouraged him. However, that proved difficult when his mind seemed trapped in the harrowing moments of the sexual assault.
Pushing himself weakly to a sitting position, he discovered his entire body completely drained from the emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, it was almost relieving, having released some of that pent-up emotion. But, at the same time, it left a lingering tainting.
What he desperately needed now was a deep-trance meditation, something to - hopefully - restore him to his previous control and calm center in the Force.
Dropping to the floor, Obi-Wan knelt there to reach for the peace found solely through the Force. He closed his eyes, feeling a tiny trickle of tranquility descend upon him. Ever so slightly, the comforting drops of serenity fell, gradually increasing toward a gushing downpour. He was nearly gone into a state of pure ecstasy when a feeling of immediate danger surfaced, pushing him back to his surroundings.
Dropping all attempts to meditate, the padawan rose cautiously to his feet, silently listening, Sufficed to know that all was quiet, he crept into the hallway, feeling led to one of the closed doors. He stopped in front of it, sending a small, questioning tendril of the Force beyond. Abruptly, the door swooshed open, allowing entry.
Stealthily, he stepped in the room. As the door closed behind him, he quickly scanned the room. The small chamber was overloaded with dull shades of red and was very neatly kept... except for a darkened doorway that appeared to be cut into the wall. Feeling an insistent nudge from the Force to hide, he quickly slid behind a long sofa, keeping out of sight from the secret doorway.
Hearing the approaching footfalls, the padawan peered carefully around the sofa, seeing Valan emerge from the dark doorway. The man turned, reaching toward a keypad below a wall sconce to punch a code on it, bidding the wall to collapse back together, secretly concealing the doorway. Then, Valan left the room.
Although Obi-Wan had a small taste of peace, he still remained far from where he should be. The emotional battle within surged even as he stepped from behind his hiding place. What did Qui-Gon think of him now, knowing that he had killed the Jedi master's friend? The padawan knew Qui-Gon would not quickly dismiss the accident as just a hapless mistake.
But, whether or not his master would ever forgive him, he felt sure that he was utterly sullied by the depraved near-rape he suffered - and continued to suffer from every day - at the evil one-time whim of Dajer Quaykin. Now corrupted, with his innocence in question, the padawan wondered what a respectable, dignified Jedi master like Qui-Gon would choose to do with him.
In an impatient attempt to settle his quivering nerves, Obi-Wan quickly drew on the fading traces of Force-given peace that he felt only minutes earlier. It was not enough to do anymore than give a false sense of security. But, with the way Obi-Wan had been feeling recently, even that was welcome.
Trying to decide whether to investigate the mysterious hidden door, the padawan could sense no guidance from his slight hold on the Force - and he sensed Qui-Gon's presence far away. He could contact him through their training bond, but the padawan did not really want to talk to him. So, he crossed the room to the keypad, entering the code he caught from watching Valan.
After the doorway appeared, the padawan walked into the dark corridor.