Never What They Seem

By Jemmiah

"He hit me."

She said it in a tone of voice that suggested total disbelief, as if the idea was beyond comprehension. Trembling hands vainly attempted to hide away the dark, ugly bruise that ran from eye socket to cheekbone, puffed up and angry from the force of the blow that struck her. Sat against the wall of the spare room, cowering like a scared Nerf, Jemmiah had pulled her legs up close to her chest as if to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible. All she wanted at that moment was to vanish from sight. She'd even contemplated hiding herself in the wardrobe except that on reflection she didn't feel there was a space small enough or dark enough that would do justice to her misery.

Obi-Wan had found her, of course. She'd never really doubted that he would.

He'd sat himself down beside her wearing an expression she could only have described as 'deeply troubled'. It wasn't so much the oft-worn frown, or the thin set of his lips that betrayed his own feelings, but the bleak look in his eyes. There was none of the usual amusement or glee to be found within that unwavering, cool blue gaze. The cream-clad arm swathed in a loose-fitting Jedi sleeve snaked itself around her shoulder in a show of brotherly support but Jemmy found herself too preoccupied to notice much.

"I don't understand…" She swallowed, feeling her stomach tightening further into a hardened knot. "What did I do? Why did he do it?"

"You didn't do anything." Obi-Wan tightened his grip upon her shoulder. "You must believe that."

"But…he hit me." If anything the voice became even more incredulous. "I…I was trying to help him and then he…he just…" Jemmy closed her good eye tightly shut, as if trying to eradicate the memory by squeezing it away.

Obi-Wan nodded. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's sick, Jemmy. The fever made him behave violently. That wasn't the Qui-Gon we both know and admire. His actions," he said with some uncertainty, "were not those of a man in charge of his mind. The illness made him strike out at random. You were unfortunate."

But Jemmiah was adamant, her voice wavering yet defiant. She could recollect every move and twitch that Qui-Gon had made, playing the moment over and over in her head: the way he had struck out at the attendant healers, throwing Gethin to one side as if of no consequence…and how he had struggled against them as they had fought to apply the restraints on his arms. Maybe it had been stupid of her to think she could achieve what they could not. Perhaps it had been arrogance to assume that Qui-Gon would listen to her but she had been afraid that they would hurt him and had acted only out of love…

"He looked at me!" She growled back at Obi-Wan. "I pleaded with him to calm down…and then he stopped dead. He stared straight at me!" Her hand automatically went back up to her eye, remembering what had occurred next. "His eyes were so…full of hate! I've never seen him look so angry before. But he knew…he knew what he was doing. He smiled at me before he…" Jemmiah swung out her arm in a motion that replicated precisely what Qui-Gon had done. "I was trying to help!"

"Jemmy…" Obi-Wan began to say, only to be cut dead.

"Don't tell me he didn't mean it." Her voice became impossibly low, the bitterness causing Obi-Wan to wince. "What about all the things he said? Things that were spoken on purpose to hurt you! He knew exactly what would upset you!"

And they had upset him, even if he was unwilling to admit it. His master's words had filled him with a resurgent dread he'd long considered banished from his heart.

'You're a failure…a disgrace to the Jedi.'

Obi-Wan allowed his chin to droop in defeat towards his chest.

"I just don't understand…" Jemmiah's disbelief gained strength with every passing second. "Does he hate me? What have I done to make him so mad? I know I misbehave sometimes but I never thought…I didn't expect…"

"He doesn't hate you." Obi-Wan hugged the eleven-year-old towards him. "No more than he meant those things he said to me." He paused, leaving the unspoken 'I hope' to die unsaid upon his lips. He was no more certain of anything than Jemmy had been, but whilst the cruel words had cut deeper than he would publicly acknowledge he would only allow himself to think of Jemmiah at that moment.

'What made you think that you could be anything special? You have betrayed me.'

The padawan swallowed back his unhappiness.

"I'm used to being hit." She ventured after a moment of silence had elapsed. "I just never expected Quiggy to raise a hand to me. I love him, Ben…"

"That's why it hurts so much." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. He felt a shudder travel the length of her small body and allowed her to rest her head against his shoulder. "You're shaking. Why don't I make you something hot to drink? Then we can get that face of yours taken care of…"

Jemmiah froze rigidly against him.

"Qui-Gon is sedated now." He peered cautiously into her face. "He won't hurt you."

"I used to think that." She replied, her lip wobbling fractionally. "I'm not sure I'll ever think it again."

Obi-Wan tried vainly to reason with her.

"Even if he did mean to strike you…even if he meant to say those things to me, they were said because the sickness had a hold of his mind. You must see this. A rational Qui-Gon would never have done this. You cannot spend your time hiding in the shadows of your room whilst Evla is away. That eye of yours looks painful and should really receive treatment!"

"No!" She indignantly folded her thin little arms. "I'm not going back to the infirmary. Not now, not ever! Not whilst he's there! Just because he's asleep now doesn't mean he won't be mad when he wakes up! I'm scared of him." Jemmy admitted, digging her fingers into the pile of the carpet. "I want to go back to Evla's place."

"She's not here." Protested Obi-Wan. "She won't be back for two days."

"I don't care! I don't feel safe here anymore…I want to go home!"

Obi-Wan blew out a deep breath. Evla was away; Qui-Gon was in the infirmary until he recovered, whenever that might be. That put him in charge of Jemmiah until somebody was in a position to take over. He could understand her feelings of despair and betrayal but these were things that a Jedi had to face, and that she too in time would have to confront. Running away from the pain would achieve little.

"If you won't go to the infirmary," Obi-Wan suggested kindly, "perhaps you'll allow one of the healers to come here and attend you? Would that be acceptable?"

The Corellian child squinted up at him through her three-quarters closed eye, reminding herself that Obi-Wan was on her side. He had suffered Qui-Gon's wrath the same as she had: the calculatingly painful words as vicious as any blow to the head might have proved. Did he never suffer any doubts, she wondered? Did he never question what Qui-Gon really thought of them? Was he so convinced in his heart that the master would never turn on them again?

"Okay." She ventured doubtfully. "It does hurt, I guess."

Jemmiah watched as he got to his feet.

"What if he did mean what he said?" She asked, begging for reassurance. "What happens if his sickness made him say things that he's been thinking deep down for some time?"

Obi-Wan bowed his head, allowing his master's words to permeate his thoughts.

'I should never have taken you as my padawan…you are unworthy of my training. I don't trust you…I don't trust any of you!'

He didn't have an answer for Jemmiah. There was simply none to give.

"I'll make that drink for you." Obi-Wan said over his shoulder, not wanting to dwell on the fears that Jemmy had voiced, or remind himself of the evidence his master's attack had left so violently imprinted on his friend's face.

As Qui-Gon was so fond of saying, things were never what they seemed. But whatever the truth Obi-Wan knew that for all his incredible loyalty he, like Jemmiah, would have a very hard time in sitting beside his master's infirmary bed and forgetting all that had been said and done.

Perhaps he was unworthy, after all.