Entry XII
Blue Eyes
We were on our way back to Naboo.
During my 12 long years of apprenticeship—and even before then—I'd come across the emotion I was feeling at that moment quite a few times. It had never, however, been as strong then as it was now; except for one ordeal: Melida/Daan. I felt I was on a path long over-grown by weeds, shrouded in fog, and with more than a dozen branches that broke off of it. I had no clear indication of where next to put my feet. It was…disorienting at best.
I found myself retreating many times to the Queen's storage room where most of her wardrobe was kept. This was where I had first met Eirtaé, the strange handmaiden whom had left me questioning everything I thought I knew about the Jedi and their place in the Republic's future. In my current emotional state, however, that was the last thing on my mind. Here—Here I could be alone with my thoughts. The engine or hyperdrive rooms would have been good for solitude as well, but—swinging a lightsaber around in those tight spaces with such precious equipment wouldn't have been the wisest course of action. Of course I was sure the Queen would have said the same if she found me in her wardrobe storage.
I kept busy by exhausting myself with training exercises, both with my weapon and sans its comforting weight in my hand. Sometimes I would turn to find a face peering at me through the partially opened door. Usually it was the ship's crewmen; sometimes Jono; sometimes Panaka and his troops; and even a curious handmaiden stopped by every now and then. When I turned to find Anakin there one day, I went so far as to stop and turn to face him, switching my saber off. I waved a hand casually at my training probe and it powered down to standby mode. A brief spark of amazement flashed from the boy's aura.
For a long instant, the two of us simply looked at each other. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was comparing this situation to the first time I had stood face to face with Xanatos. Old Padawan vs. new; young boy vs. young man. The age differences were certainly similar enough. Something about Anakin's crystal blue eyes set me on edge; I felt that he was picking me apart inside his head, piece-by-piece and it was unnerving.
No.
The realization was a surprising one. Anakin was not picking me apart to find weaknesses as I had first led myself to believe. That would be the ill-will deep inside me talking. Anakin was picking me apart…in an attempt to better understand me. The boy didn't understand me—It was clear as day in his projected Force signature. He was…curious
Well this was unlooked for….
When I looked into his eyes, I saw the innocent naivety of a child; he honestly didn't know what hardships he had placed between my master and I by simply being there. But also in those eyes, I saw weariness and…fear? This slave boy—former slave boy—had seen things that would shake even my experienced reserves. Even without speaking, I somehow knew this to be true. And…he had been asked to leave behind his mother, his entire world, to pursue a dream that may never come true. There was bravery in those eyes, too, though maybe he didn't know it.
We stood there for an indefinable period of time, taking the other in and digesting what we could without swapping even the first word. It was the appearance of a third person that awoke us. Padmé appeared behind the boy, admonishing him for disappearing. "We've been looking all over for you, Ani. Come here, we found something you might like. Oh! Jedi Kenobi!"
"Milady." I brushed my eyelids closed as I dipped my head somewhat. Padmé hadn't seen me until she'd straightened up and started leading Anakin away to wherever it was she was so excited about; but I never saw them leave. This was because my eyes shifted to take in the sight of a fierce jaw and freshly-trimmed beard that was beginning to be sprinkled lightly by gray. I followed this movement of sight to a humped nose, then to a pair of soft blue eyes with endless wisdom contained therein.
For the briefest of seconds, perhaps the time that elapsed from one blink to another, I thought I saw…an apology in those gentle orbs. But before I could be sure, they drifted from contact with my own and the eyelids fell. Without reaffirming contact, Qui-Gon turned and strode away, presumably after the handmaiden and boy. Was that…shame that I saw in his slumped shoulders? Maybe I was just wishing too hard to see something that wasn't there.
But then again, maybe I wasn't.
Something must have happened, I must have fallen into a trance of some sort; because when the dinner chime sounded that evening, my eyes still stared unblinking at the place they had last been focused. I still stood where I was, lightsaber hilt poised in my hand, training probe floating lazily nearby, and dried sweat making my skin sticky. I gathered the sweat-dampened tunic from where it hung off my shoulders and around my waist and used it to wipe my face. I stunk—that much I knew and realized with a half-hearted, half-amused grin. With my stomach growling in protest over the delay, I hurried to a 'fresher unit to clean up. After all, how professional would it be if a smelly, sweaty Jedi apprentice tramped into the ship's dining hall and ruined everyone's appetite?
A few days into the journey, I managed to fall into an exhausted sleep. I had been training since early hours that morning, barely stopping to eat or rest, and it was beginning to take effect. Grimly I knew I couldn't keep doing this to myself: Naboo was only days away. I had to be ready for anything—weariness and sore muscles would never do. But my encounter with Anakin…well, it had shaken my reserve. Part of me wished that when this was all over, he would choose to remain on Naboo, maybe even garner a job that would serve the Queen. Somehow though, deep down inside, I knew he would still be that little thorn in my side when the mission ended…and possibly for years down the road, as well.
For a while I slept comfortably. It was often quoted that Jedi didn't dream; I wouldn't say this was entirely true, however. Sometimes I dreamt of things that could never in a million years turn out to be visions of things to come. From the onset of this dream, however, I knew I could never be so fortunate as for it to be "random energy" as Qui-Gon so loved to call it. This dream was true—from a certain point-of-view, at least. It was more than just eager energy, and the fact that I knew and believed this so strongly is what frightened me the most.
It started with sand—everywhere—as far as the eye could see. I was back on Tatooine (curse that Force-forsaken dust ball of a planet). I was walking with purpose in my step, though where I thought I was headed alludes me now in my wakefulness. And then, as suddenly as he had appeared atop my master in all of his dreams, the beast was coming at me, barely seeming to touch the ground as he rapidly drew nearer. I watched that figure of red and black for the longest of minute seconds, fascinated by the whipping of his black cloak in the breeze.
And then I matched his feral grin with my own.
And I let my hatred for who he was—what he was—and how he had attacked my master bubble to the surface and boil over.
I matched my hatred with his.
We leapt—high into the air to meet each other—and it felt like a lifetime that we were suspended just out of reach of the blade of our own enemy. He was mine, I was his.
The wind shifted, whipping my cloak about in the hot breeze that peppered exposed skin with sharp, grainy sand. One leg was bent high, prepared to extend and take my weight when I landed. I raised my blade, readying it for a downward swipe.
It was never completed.
I was awoken by the imagined torture of a red blade sticking unceremoniously through my mid-section. I came awake so fast that I rolled straight off my bunk, tangles of blankets wrapped around me, my head spinning. As I panted pathetically for breath and bit my tongue in an attempt to keep from vomiting, the strangest memory came to me.
Like most human males in their late teens, I had gone through a stage of my life where sleeping in the nude was preferred over any form of clothing I could acquire. I was broken of this habit when, on two entirely different missions in two entirely different planetary systems, I was startled from restful sleep by prying eyes. Two maids, one on each mission, and strangely alike in appearance, had been caught snooping in my assigned quarters. I had been mortified to say the least; as both incidents had occurred during relatively hot months when sleeping under the covers wasn't exactly comfortable. Coincedentally (or perhaps not if one gave it even the smallest thought), I discovered later that the two young women were related. Qui-Gon refused to let me live that down for over a year.
Qui-Gon….
The name snapped me back to the present. After a cursory once over of myself that included an extra long pause at my midsection, I was able to reassure myself that I was clothed—at least up to the waist—and there didn't appear to be a lightsaber sized hole protruding through my body. Stumbling quickly to my feet, I hurried out of the room, wiping sweaty palms on damp pants.
Qui-Gon….
Like a drunkard I tripped my way through the ship's hallways, hunched over like an old man. My bare toes took occasional abuse when I ran into something, but I didn't slow. I never really saw the guiding lights; it felt more like blindly walking through a black hole.
Finally—I'd made it to Master's cabin door.
Taking the time to compose myself, I leaned back against the cool durasteel wall. One hand held my heavy forehead, the other protected—what? An imaginary hurt? When I pulled the shaking hand from my midsection, I half expected to see it red with blood.
No…the blade would have cauterized the wound immediately. Only a few drops would have seeped if anything at all. I've known this since initiate days.
What? Why was I even thinking these thoughts! Come on, Kenobi! Snap out of it!
The slight rustling of sheets in the room behind me caught and held my attention momentarily before I palmed the door open and ventured in. Suddenly, I missed the cool sensation that the durasteel wall had provided to my warm, sweat-slicked back.
Qui-Gon….
He lay tangled in his sheets, much as I had. Seeing him thrash about as the was, still caught in the throes of the nightmare and possibly seeing more than I had (if he just wasn't continuously reliving the dream like how Padmé had continuously watched Sio Bibble's message), struck a chord inside me. My rebelliousness fell away completely this time, dropping like leaves in the fall. I crumpled to my knees and took his hand in mine, placing the other atop that creased, proud sweaty brow that I knew all too well; I was sure I could state where each wrinkle appeared in each of my master's different emotional states—not that I thought anyone would be asking that question of me anytime soon…or ever.
I closed my eyes, sinking into myself to touch the Force. Simultaneously, waves of calm and sleep encouragement brushed over Qui-Gon like thousands of delicate feathers. I waited for the two to take effect, then delved even deeper. This time I slipped along our bond with the ease of 12 years of practice and sorted through Master's still-raging emotions. I would erase the memory of the dream and all the ill-effects of it; I wouldn't allow my master to suffer needlessly over me. Just as I was preparing to halt my healing caresses, however, I stumbled upon a well of emotions that had been harbored since—since the confrontation in the Council chamber. What I found there brought tears of guilt to my eyes. How could I have ever doubted Qui-Gon? Xanatos words had been just as unjustified in the Council room as they were 12 years ago. How could I have been so stupid? After 12 years of apprenticeship, how could I doubt my master's love for me? I had been too hurt by it at the time, but I knew now that Qui-Gon would never dismiss me in the way I imagined he had. My master cared for me deeply—he truly felt I was ready to face my Trials. It just so happened that that was the best time he thought to bring the subject up. Crazy 'ol fool….
Movement in the hand that held Master's brought me back to awareness of my surroundings. Force, my knees hurt…How long had I been kneeling? Hours, I guessed. The cabin's lights were intensifying, slowly but surely, signaling that it would be time to wake soon.
With my bare feet treading lightly, I left the cabin to its sleeping occupants and headed quickly through the hallways. I hadn't traveled far when an incessant tug of the Force shifted my direction to the bridge. Anakin was there, still huddled in his same corner, shivering due to the fact his blanket had slipped off at some point or another during the night. For a minute I considered walking away; one foot had already made it back out into the hall as a matter-of-fact. But I stopped, wondering miserably to myself. Are you really that cold-hearted, Kenobi? Has Qui-Gon really been that lousy of a teacher? A memory, perhaps of some similar moment in my own life, teetered at the edge of my consciousness. Somewhat hesitantly, I raised a hand and drew the Force around me, preparing to shift the misplaced blanket back onto the boy.
Anakin's eyes snapped open.
I hid my surprise well, resorting to a simple blink as I felt first one presence then another touch my mind. My hand faltered and shook, falling numbly to my side of its own accord as Anakin drew the blanket around himself. I saw his blue eyes shift and focus on something—someone—behind me. I didn't have to turn to know who it was—honestly I already knew—but I did anyway, the temptation proving to be too enticing. Qui-Gon stared back unblinking, his hair a disheveled mess. I blinked a second time and set my lips into a thin line, unsure of what to think.
Bow, Stupid, and get out of there!
Bowing rather stiff-like, I shifted to walk away. The slight touch of a hand on my Padawan braid stopped my escape; I hesitated. Our gazes met…and my callous reserve shattered entirely. I knew then that I would put an end to the rift between us if it was the last thing I did.
No sooner did the warning bell sound then the ship lurched out of hyperspace. I barely had the forewarning to grab hold of the bedpost beside me for leverage. Jono wasn't as lucky; when I stared down at him laying spread-eagled on the floor, he flashed me his trade-mark lop-sided grin that I'd come to appreciate so much. I helped him to his feet and we hurried towards the cockpit; Naboo was still a standard half-day's travel away if I wasn't wrong.
So why had we emerged from hyperspace so soon?
Half-way to the cockpit, we were intercepted by a royal guard. He came straight at me in urgency, for once not showing any of the trepidation I'd come to expect from most of the Naboo. We bowed, but he rose half-way through and caused me to look on in quiet curiousity. What had him so anxious?
"The Queen—"
Ah.
"—has requested your presence in the throne room immediately."
I raised one eyebrow at this surprising news, especially when there was nothing else forthcoming. "Of course," was my automatic response as I watched a pilot bolt around the corner. He latched quickly onto Jono as soon as he spotted him and took off. Jono mouthed an apology and shrugged, just as confused as I was.
Waves of agitation rolled off the forgotten guard standing in front of me. "The throne room?" I asked, seeking confirmation more for his sake.
"Yes, yes, the throne room—immediately."
He was late.
Wasn't that odd?
Qui-Gon had always been the sort of person who liked being at least an hour early for appointments. It was a fact that had always irked me. Although I was the type of person who appeared an hour late for each appointment, so in actuality, we cancelled each other out and still managed to get everywhere—fairly—on time.
Yet here I was, in the throne room (having been there a decent five minutes or so already), sans a master and unsure of what was about to take place. Finally, with a flourish of his cloak and a sweeping bow, Qui-Gon strode into the crowded room where everyone else was awaiting his arrival. He turned back to me, almost as an afterthought in his rushed state, it seemed, and we nodded cordially to each other. Slowly, discreetly, I worked on patching my shields in his presence (for the time being until I decided on what to do), but gave in when I was only half-way finished. No use hiding what I was sure he had already seen. I put my game face on and settled my mind, resisting the urge to touch the bond between us that had flared to a hyper awareness compared to the quiet staleness that it had been before he walked in.
Queen Amidala allowed her eyes to rake along the crowd gathered, checking to see that everyone she had called for had made it. I was startled to find Jar Jar fidgeting in a corner behind me. It was somewhat amusing hearing him squirm back there; reminded me of my own first few encounters with royalty during a high importance level meeting.
The Queen's bright lips parted just enough for her to speak and pulled me back to the present without having Qui-Gon do the honors first. "When we land on Naboo," she began, "it is my intention to act on this invasion at once. My people have suffered enough."
Qui-Gon refused to react on the outside, but through our recently refueled bond I sensed curiousity. Beside him, Panaka practically had waves of irritation rolling off of him and pooling at his feet. He looked stubbornly at his Queen and set his jaw. "As soon as we land, the Federation will arrest you and force you to sign the treaty."
Master stood with his posture relaxed and hands by his sides. I didn't try probing the bond to see what he was feeling. I let it come to me naturally of its own free will. I would wait to see what he was going to say.
"I agree," Qui-Gon began serenely. "I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish by this."
Neither was I.
"I will take back what's ours." The Queen held a determined look on her face that I admired, especially for one as young as she. But if I hadn't known any better, I would have said she didn't give a flying Upani monkey about master's or Panaka's opinions. An itch in the back of my mind said what she was doing sounded familiar. But why—
Ah, yes, I thought, barely keeping the smile from my face. The Queen must have something else in mind if she was doing this. Decide your course, stick with it, and tell the pessimistics after it's too late to do anything about it. The urge to smile hit me again. I knew exactly what the Queen was doing—I had done it myself enough times. Through our bond, I sensed Qui-Gon was beginning to follow the same train of thoughts. My master was a maverick in his own right—this sort of thinking came naturally to him. I realized idly that 12 years of apprenticeship to the man standing before me had probably molded me into much the same shape.
To Qui-Gon's left, Panaka was becoming rather bent out of shape… "There are too few of us, Your Highness. We have no army!" he reminded her unhappily.
The Queen dragged her deep brown eyes to my master. It almost seemed she was enjoying doing this to the captain—and every other disbelieving soul in the room. How did her handmaidens keep a straight face throughout the entire discussion? Much like the Jedi do, I reasoned, then realized that that would be an interesting notion to bring up to Padmé. Speaking of which, where was the special handmaiden? I could sense her in the room, or at least nearby, but she was not one of the two handmaidens behind the Queen and I hadn't noticed her as being the one standing near the door. Yet the Queen had only chosen three to bring with her from Naboo. Padmé must have been behind me somewhere. A slight brush of my thoughts from Qui-Gon reminded me why I was here. Whatever Amidala had in mind, I decided, must be a good plan for her to look so non-chalant throughout this entire debate. Master, ever his calm self, faced the Queen down without hesitation. He seemed to think his words out carefully before he bothered to speak them, reminding her of our duty. "And I can only protect you. I can't fight a war for you."
No, we most certainly cannot, though it would make things simpler.
I watched those brown eyes before me shift again, heading this time surprisingly in my direction. No, not at me; something behind me. She was thinking; she would give her plan away soon, that much I was willing to bet. I couldn't help but wonder, though, what grand miracle she had stumbled upon that gave her such hope, courage, and strength to return to her captured planet and the inevitable war that awaited us all. What miracle creature had she spoken with that set such determination and reassurance in her heart? He must be great indeed, I thought, to influence a Queen.
"Jar Jar Binks!"
What? No….
"Mesa, Your Highness?"
Please don't say it. Please, oh please, don't say what I think you're going to. Please don't say—
"Yes. I need your help."
Sithspit!
Eep! I nearly forgot it was posting day! I'm currently posting a Lord of the Rings story of mine somewhere else and the two stories are on different schedules, so I forgot! Many apologies everyone! I realize most of you won't get the notification of this now until tomorrow morning/afternoon sometime.
Warning: Long authoress' notes ahead!
I just have to say this: thank you, thank you, thank you. SIX reviews! I don't think I've ever gotten so many before for an individual chapter on any of my stories. It really means a lot to me to hear what ya'll have to say--and you were very vocal about the last entry, which is good! Because to hear what everyone thinks of the story and what they think/hope will happen in the next entry really gets me pumped up. I start thinking, "Man, I hope what I've written lives up to their expectations, but maybe if the upcoming entry doesn't, the one after itwill." So I go back to my rough drafts and start working diligently on the next entry. I try to think, what would Obi do that everyone would just love to read, that they haven't already read? Late last night I finished up the hangar battle scene which puts us at (drum roll please): the Duel of the Fates! This is going to be the part where I really wrack my brain as I try to think up fresh ideas for ya'll that no one else has ever put down on pen and paper (or Microsoft Word, LOL).
koriaena and Christina B--Thanks for the feedback! Sometimes I find myself thinking FOR Obi-Wan so to speak and it's scary to realize that our reactions to many situations may be the same! O.o LOL It's good to know I'm keeping him in character.
Professor Authordude--Welcome to the band wagon! As far as the body language goes, I don't really think there was as much in the last entry as I thought. Ewan does seem to jerk back a little during the argument scene on the landing platform as they are waiting for the Queen. It's right between the sentences "The Council will decide Anakin's future." and "That should be enough for you," just like I said it was in the last entry. I own a horse and am thinking of studying Equine behavior; horses rely heavily on body language, so maybe I'm just picking up such slight nuances from the characters whose actions really can't be described, but the resulting emotions can be. This entry was, for the most part, made up, so I wouldn't say there's much body language that you can search for. In the next entries though, I'll be sure to mention any.
Katieelessar--I can't thank you enough for all of your kind words. You've stuck with me quite a while and you give lovely, detailed feedback (every writer's dream). I'm glad to hear I'm not disappointing you and hopefully you'll find that everything just keeps getting better.
Newbie--Hello there Newbie! Welcome! I want you to know that just because you told me to finish the story, I will do so. Sooner or later! LOL I do have all intentions of seeing this through to completion though, so have no fear. Please stick around for the rest of the ride--I love havin ya:-)
TempleMistress--Hi there! Wow, how lucky am I exactly? Three new reviewers! Ya'll are great, you really are. I hope this story doesn't spoil any of the JA books for you, but let me tell you: you are going to love every JA book and when you get to #18 and learn there aren't anymore, you are going to pitch a fit and scream like I did! Jude Watson shouldn't have stopped! I've read so many stories where Obi is the perfect Padawan with absolutely no complaints about it that I decided that just wasn't right. Obi is human, he's not perfect. (But he is a flirtatious hunk! ) I just wanted to portray him as being a bit more real. I'm glad you enjoyed the scene between Obi and Padme, too. That was actually a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing and so far I don't have anymore planned, but you never know what might happen after the duel. ;-) Thanks for stopping in to join the rest of us here!
Quick notes on this entry: According to novelizations, Ani and Padme didn't see each other between the return trip from Coruscant to Naboo. Well, I wanted to do things my way, so I decided they should have had contact, LOL. (Really the only reason I kept it the way I did is because by the time I learned that little fact, everything was typed and sounding "pretty okie-day". I just didn't want the hassle of changing it! ;-P) Also, I just had to find a purpose for that cool promo shot of Obi-Wan and Maul in the desert, so...I made up the dream. Foreshadowing is always fun, wouldn't you agree?
And last but not least, this entry gave me my first, really big chance to: 1)get inside Obi's head, and I mean deep inside his head, 2) show that Qui-Gon really isn't as bad as some people made him out to be after TPM came out, and 3) show that maybe Anakin started to grow on Obi-Wan and affect him in more of a positive way afterall, despite what so many other fanfics have said over the years. I just can't believe Obi would dislike/hate Ani so much that he wouldn't even give him a chance until after Qui's death. That's not how he was 'raised.'
As always,I thank every single one of you for taking the few moments that are required to leave a review. It means the world to me and encourages me to write quality stuff, not just crap. My reviewers are my foundation and I love you all. Sorry again for the long notes! See you next week!
A small tidbit for Entry XIII, "Apologies in Hands":
I resisted the natural urge to clear my throat. "Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan city, Master."
"Good."
"Good?"
Did he not have anything else to say?
I needed to get Master talking. I needed to pull him from the slump that I felt he'd fallen into. "Do you think the Queen's idea will work?" I asked. That was innocent enough, wasn't it? It was a proper question shared between a Master/Padawan team.
Right?
"I've been thinking."
Those three words snapped my head up so sharply that for a moment I wondered if I'd given myself whiplash. Qui-Gon still didn't look at me.