Meditation is not a dirty word

By Jemmiah

Twenty years of age and full of confidence.

That was how Obi-Wan Kenobi, padawan to the respected, if unorthodox, Master Qui-Gon Jinn would have described himself if asked. Of course, reality was a different matter entirely: Obi-Wan knew precisely how much the Jedi needed to work appearances to their advantage. Just because one swaggered and strutted and generally appeared to have the galaxy at their feet didn't actually mean that deep down a Jedi couldn't hide away their worries and concerns…and their passions.

Jedi weren't really supposed to have those. And if they did, revealing so tended to be frowned upon.

"Concentrate, padawan. Feel the force flow through you."

His masters voice. The man he respected and followed through thick and thin: the man he would gladly give his life for if it was required of him. Right now, however, all Obi-Wan wanted Qui-Gon to do was to shut up. He'd picked up on Obi-Wan's restlessness and lack of focus, the insecurity hidden beneath the surface bluster, and swiftly suggested a couple of hours meditation.

Obi-Wan was not terribly fond of Qui-Gon's meditation sessions. They tended to last forever, leaving his muscles stiff and sore from inaction, and making him even more distracted than he ever had been to start with. Especially when his mind was wandering to areas to which perhaps they should not…

Maybe this demonstrated that Qui-Gon was right. He needed to sort out his problems and focus. He just wasn't certain that meditation was the best way of doing so.

"Empty your thoughts."

Empty his thoughts? Empty his bladder, more like! Who could tell how long this particular exercise of cross-legged torture would last? Obi-Wan tried valiantly to clear his mind of all the clutter he had taken into the session with him, but it was proving terribly difficult: more than he had expected. He felt listless, bored…and if the audible growl of his stomach was to be believed he was hungry, too.

"Breathe deeply."

My own intestines are devouring me, Obi-Wan sighed. They're going to reach up through my body and strangle me for not providing them with enough nourishment. That's if my master doesn't strangle me first for my lack of concentration. Did I finish those Takkini chips I found under the bed?

"Relax yourself."

No. Qui-Gon threw them away. He said they thought they were a little too green after all those months…

"Are you concentrating, padawan?" Qui-Gon's voice held more than a trace of suspicion, and Obi-Wan found his posture become instantly more rigid. He didn't want to be there, sat on the bare, polished floor, feeling the force pulse confusedly around him. His mind refused to stay in the one place, and his breathing became more rapid with every increase in agitation he experienced. Perhaps if they had gone to the gymnasium or held a sparring session he could have lost some of his pent-up frustration. Or even a swim? A cold shower would have done…

Anything but this death by slow torture.

I'm going mad, I swear it, Obi-Wan frowned. If he asks if my mind is focused I think I'll scream!

At the last moment he remembered that Qui-Gon had asked him a question.

"Of course, master." He answered politely, although the pregnant pause that followed revealed his master's opinion on his ability to lie convincingly to him. But he couldn't help it: his heart just wasn't in it today. He needed a break. Couldn't Qui-Gon see that? Even Jedi needed to rest from time to time! There had been nothing but missions and travel over the past few months and Obi-Wan, who saw such voyages only in terms of getting from point A to B and back, never caring for a wider admiration of the galaxy's wonders, felt deeply fatigued.

He wanted to sleep.

A lot.

Relaxation isn't a dirty word, master. Obi-Wan thought silently. However, right now 'meditation' is up there with the worst swear words Jemmy ever had the fortune to teach me…

He tried, more for Qui-Gon's sake than his own, to reign in his wandering thoughts. It wasn't proving to be easy. Now that he'd brought the image of Jemmy to his mind he realised precisely the reason for his lack of focus. It wasn't fair; he sighed dramatically as he thought of her beautiful face and large, sparkling eyes. He'd not seen her for ever such a long time. Perhaps she'd got bored with him? Maybe she'd found someone new? Great, now he was becoming paranoid on top of everything else! How did Qui-Gon cope without his infrequent visits to Leona? How did he stay focused? Or was he masking his own anxieties with this display of authority?

The Gabali final's on the sports channel tonight. Maybe I'll go to the cantina with Simeon and watch it.

"Feel the calmness wash over you."

Was that a joke, Obi-Wan wondered bleakly. Qui-Gon did not sound like a man who was thinking of Leona. He sounded like a man on a mission. A mission to make his padawan's life intolerable through utter boredom. Obi-Wan decided he could do with a drink of water to cool his ardour, then remembered his precarious bladder situation and turned his thoughts back to Jemmy. Surely she'd want to spend a little time with him when she knew he was back? And surely Yoda and the council would grant them a short break, even if only to continue with his training in the relative safety of the Jedi temple? Maybe he'd visit the infirmary and ask An-Paj for some kind of medicinal pick-me-up. As long as Dimallie had nothing to do with it, of course.

She'd caused enough problems in her time.

Oh, stop growling stomach! Whose side are you on anyway?

"Are you sure your mind is focused?" Qui-Gon interrupted his thoughts.

Obi-Wan stifled the impulse to scream…took a deep breath and then set his mouth in an unconvincing smile.

"Very focused, master. Thank you."

There's a funny smell in here. Obi-Wan realised, sniffing dubiously at the air around him. Maybe I should change my socks.

"Pay attention to the living force, padawan." Qui-Gon replied tersely, a crease furrowing deeply in his brow as he turned to regard his apprentice through a half-open eye. Something was clearly going on within the young man's mind that was making him fretful and deeply restless…and what was more Qui-Gon had a fairly good idea exactly what it was. Reaching out through the link they had established between them over the last seven years Qui-Gon began to sift through Obi-Wan's emotions, dismayed at the disorder and chaos that spilled forth like wine from a broken glass.

I am paying attention. Obi-Wan felt his irritation getting the better of him. How long had they been doing this fruitless exercise for? Did Qui-Gon think he enjoyed growing carbuncles on his backside for no good reason? He wanted to clear his mind of the chaff but the force was distracting him! Every time he relaxed his mind took him to places that Qui-Gon wouldn't want him to go to! What does he think I'm doing? I'm concentrating like crazy. I can reach out with the force and I can see…

The force suddenly surrounded him with blinding clarity. His eyes snapped wide open, but the vision in his mind lingered with beautiful, shimmering realism. Stretching out a little more, Obi-Wan could discern the image of a balcony swathed in sunlight and there, in the centre, the beautiful, semi-naked figure of Jemmiah Gleshan lying face-down on a long striped rug.

Blast, Obi-Wan sighed wistfully. I wonder if I can get you to turn round?

"I saw that, padawan!"

Obi-Wan snapped himself instantly out of his force-trance. The beauteous image suddenly left him, dissolving into the stern and wary features of Qui-Gon Jinn. Well, it had been nice while it lasted; Obi-Wan found himself thinking wistfully. He really needed to rest. Just for a bit! Somewhere nice and sunny and warm. It didn't have to be far.

Jemmy's balcony would be ideal.

"Master?" He swallowed nervously as Qui-Gon's knowing, blue eyes roamed his face. His master folded his arms to match the crossed position of his legs, but this time it wasn't so much in gentle meditation but rather outright indignation.

"You weren't concentrating." Qui-Gon challenged him brusquely.

"I was concentrating!" Obi-Wan protested, finding himself growing increasingly red in the face. "I was concentrating extremely hard!"

"Not on what you should have been."

Obi-Wan's heart sank deep within his chest. His master had seen everything through their bond. He'd picked up on the wondrous vision of the scantily clad Corellian…or perhaps more accurately sensed Obi-Wan's feelings as regarded that particular glorious image, and the further ideas that had sprung from it…

"Sorry, master." He bowed his chin contritely towards the floor. "I got distracted."

"Sorry doesn't cut it with me, padawan." Jinn's long hair fell forward across his chest as he shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you."

"But…"

Qui-Gon's eyes glinted playfully.

"I'm not a vindictive man, Obi-Wan. You know that. I also only want what is best for your training. I can sense how tired you are. You feel that you need to unwind, don't you?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly.

"And for that reason I'm going to find something suitably relaxing for you to do for your punishment." Qui-Gon pushed himself up off the floor in a surprisingly graceful move, the corners of his mouth barely repressing a smile. "You will meditate on the importance of meditation."

This time, inside, Obi-Wan did scream.