Chapter Two: Crash

Anakin Skywalker was an anomaly of sorts in the AgriCorps. He had never been an initiate, nor had he ever been scouted by the Jedi. He had been found as a slave on some planet in the Outer Rim, its' name now forgotten. A strange occurrence had left seventeen year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi with an infant in his arms.

The boy's mother had begged for them to take her son, to bring him to a better life, away from the slavery that he had been born into. Hers were tearful, crying for both the loss of a child and for the happiness that would be in his future. For a few credits, the AgriCorps obtained a new member, and a rarity: a baby.

He had been assigned to a family, cared for by a surrogate mother and father, but that hadn't worked. There was something wrong, something off. He was always sick, always crying, always pale and frightened. The medics, baffled, could find nothing wrong. Physically, at least.

And so, in a desperate last effort, they had called for the Gardener. Perhaps his skills with vegetation would be transferable to a human being. The youth had taken the child into his arms, and instantly, the boy was soothed. Happy, in the arms of the teenager, complete and calm. Obi-Wan had noticed how strong this child was in the Force, broadcasting waves through the calm current of the Unifying Force. Apart, they were unhappy. Together, they were a bright beacon.

The two had been close since, growing up together under the watchful eye of the community. Now, eating dinner in the home where they lived, they were at peace. A boy, a man. Not father and son, but not brothers. Something in between, yet, just as close.

Anakin looked up from his meal, face illuminated with a curious expression. "Can you hear that?"

Obi-Wan stopped chewing. "Hear what?" However, even as he said it, he could hear the strange howl in the dusk.

The boy rose from his chair and moved to the main door of the domicile. He ran outdoors, followed closely by a concerned Obi-Wan.

"Look!" pointed Anakin, as the howl grew louder, and more and more people emerged outdoors.

The young man looked upward, only to see a streak of yellow and red growing larger and larger, plunging down from the air. The object grew closer and closer, until it struck the ground in a resounding roar, just outside of the AgriCorps land. The emergency sirens rang, as the people scattered and the rescue vehicles were sent out. Anakin looked after them with curiosity and a tinge of jealousy.

"I wonder what that was. A spaceship, a starfighter!" His eyes lit up from within. "Maybe it's a Jedi!"

Obi-Wan's eyes darkened. The Jedi. "I don't think so, Anakin. Let's go back inside." He started back towards the home, a disappointed Anakin trailing behind.

It was well into the night when a knock on the door and a yell brought Obi-Wan running down the stairs of his home and to the man who waited outside. His name was Dart Quinn, the head medic, and he was looking decidedly tried and ragged.

"We've run out of options, Obi-Wan. Please."

The young man could see the desperation in his friends eyes. "Of course, Dart. Give me one moment." He turned to the stairs, and as he expected, Anakin was there, watching and listening.

"You can't come." he said softly, already knowing what the boy's question would be.

Anakin's eyes said everything. "Please, Obi-Wan?"

He offered the child a small smile. "Trust me, Anakin, it is better to stay here."

There was something in Obi-Wan's eyes that made the boy shiver, and he held back his next protest. Instead, he simply offered a wave to his best friend, and watched as the two men left, heading for the Infirmary and what, he was sure of, was the most interesting thing Paos II had seen in a very long time.

The Infirmary was a squat, drab building near the centre of the small AgriCorps community. Its' walls saw, at the most, a broken leg or insecticide poisoning. At night, it was always quiet, the two nurses simply patrolling the building, caring for the handful of patients sleeping inside.

Tonight, however, it was chaos.

News of the crash had funnelled in from various places, like most rumours and exciting pieces of information do. The doctor and the medics had been called in, most from their dinners or from their beds. As the rescue vehicles returned with their dying passenger, the Infirmary was undergoing a major upheaval, as the chairs were cleared away and the supplies prepared for the greatest emergency it had ever seen.

He came into the infirmary on a stretcher carried by two local men, unconscious and burnt and bleeding. There were blisters on his forehead from the intense heat of the crash, and various cuts and gashes were leaking red all over. His clothes, once complete, were now merely tattered and singed material barely holding together.

The nurses couldn't help but look away, as the doctor and his medics went to work. The damage to this human body was horrific, and it was unspoken between the three that it was miracle he was still alive. Peeling back the clothing that was like a second skin, they tried to heal their patient, using the best technology they had.

And yet, with every passing moment, he was slipping away.

Suddenly, hours or minutes later, the Gardener was there beside them, as quiet as the breeze. The doctor felt a burst of confidence and relief inside, because the Gardener was a miracle worker, and that was exactly was they needed.

The patient's face, the least injured part of the body, was covered in a cooling pad, but the rest was open to see. Arms once obviously strong now red and cracked; legs streaked with blood and dotted with open wounds. His chest took every breath painfully and with a certain finality; there was a mystery and a painful pause in between every intake of air.

Obi-Wan approached, and looked past the exterior trauma, placing his hands onto the injured's chest. A light began to glow in the Gardener's forearms, then palms, then fingertips. It spread through the man's frame, from torso to appendages and everything in between. The light brightened and enveloped both of them, healer and healing both.

And then it was over, suddenly and abruptly. Obi-Wan gasped for air, and his legs wobbled underneath him a bit, as he steadied himself on the corner of the bed.

Disbelief was evident in every facet of the second medic. "Vitals are normal, doctor. He's still unconscious though."

The Gardener answered. "He's in a meditative state." He met the doctor's eyes. "This man is a Jedi." Obi-Wan moved forward to remove the pad, and his legs threatened to give out on him once more. His outstretched hand failed to grab the edge of the table, and he fell back hard onto the floor.

"Obi-Wan!" exclaimed the doctor, and he quickly helped the young man to his feet. "What's wrong?"

He had turned pale, white and clammy. "It's not possible... no." He looked back down once more onto the patient's face, to confirm what he already knew.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stared down, and met the unconscious form of his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Next part will be several days in coming; these two first ones I had already written. :)