Choices, a jedi apprentice fanfic

Disclaimer- I own nothing other than this idea, which came from a dream.

A/N- At twelve pages in my notebook, this is one of my shorter back stories, so I decided to type it first. It takes place during JA15, the one where Tahl dies. Enjoy!

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Choices

Starring: MARTYR-ESQUE! Obi-Wan and TORMENTED! Qui-Gon.

Costarring: DYING/DEAD! Tahl.

Introducing: HEAD HEALER! Darren Mulroony, HEALER! Kaethe, HEALER! Allard, and HEALER! Joakim.

Appearances by: BLASTER-WIELDING! Random Men, JUST-STUCK-IN-THE-STORY-FOR-NO-APPARENT-REASON! Mace, and STUPID! Balog.

Mentioned but never appearing: BACK-STABBING! Eritha and PRESENT! Bant.

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"talking"

'private thoughts'

/communicating through bond/

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"Here, Master." Obi-Wan extended his rebreather. "If you're going to help Tahl swim, you'll need it more than I will."

Qui-Gon studied him closely. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes, Master. I'll be fine."

Satisfied, the tall Jedi took the proffered device, fitting his own over Tahl's mouth. Before stepping into the water, Obi-Wan looked back. "I hope Eritha's not hurt."

"I don't sense anything, do you?"

"Nothing direct, but there's something making me uneasy..."

"Focus on the here and now, Padawan. There is nothing we can do for Eritha, but we need to help Tahl."

"Yes, Master."

They waded into the water, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath before submerging. As he swam, his not-quite-healed leg began throbbing, and he had to force himself to continue. Finally, they reached the other side of the water. The moment the sixteen-year-old's head broke the surface, he inhaled great gasps of much-needed air, coughing the liquid from his lungs.

Qui-Gon waited with an air of patience he did not feel. When Obi-Wan stopped choking, he made to move on, but his Padawan had not moved. He was about to reprimand him; however, before he could speak the admonishment, his apprentice leapt sideways in front of Tahl, taking in a direct hit to his left shoulder the blaster bolt that was meant for her.

"Go, Master," he hissed, drawing his lightsaber with his uninjured arm. "I can hold them off long enough for you and Tahl to get away."

"You'll never make it out alive!" Qui-Gon had counted at least twenty men with blasters; Obi-Wan was sixteen years old and injured besides.

Gray eyes regarded him calmly. "Sometimes sacrifices must be made. I was willing to die in order to save you when I was twelve, and that hasn't changed. This is the only way to get Tahl out of here safely, Master. Now go quickly." The mention of Tahl had been his trump card. He was not blind to what was happening between the two Masters. Though he did not fully understand it, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to save Qui-Gon.

Torn, the tall Jedi knew he was right. Setting Tahl down to lean against him, he gave Obi-Wan a one-armed hug and kissed his forehead. Not trusting himself to speak, he could only pick up his ailing friend and leave. To look back would be his undoing.

The apprentice who was much too young to die watched him regretfully for a moment, then turned to the attackers with determination on his face and activated his lightsaber in challenge.

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Having made it out to the land speeder, Qui-Gon gently strapped Tahl in. He was about to get into the driver's seat when he heard her weak voice: "If you leave him now, you will regret it forever."

He knew her to be correct just as his Padawan had been only minutes ago. As much as he had tried to keep the bright, eager boy from making a claim on his heart, Obi-Wan was the son he had never had. While, though it pained him to think of it, his young one might be beyond help, he knew he would never forgive himself if he did not go back.

"I will return," he told her.

"Make sure that Obi-Wan is with you," she said seriously but with a smile.

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Obi-Wan was faring better than anyone had expected, including himself. Despite the use of only one arm and only one leg, he had taken down half of the men. When Qui-Gon came in, one of the thugs was holding the azure blade. His Padawan, unarmed, was standing as straight as possible with all of his weight on his right leg. His left arm hung limply, but his face, set in grim determination, gave no indication of the pain he was undoubtedly in.

Before the Master could make his presence known, the man holding Obi-Wan's lightsaber raked it through the sixteen-year-old's already injured leg, not cutting it off, just causing a great, gaping, cauterized gash. The burn went through bone and muscle; the tip of the blade actually reappeared on the other side. Though his face tightened and his jaw clenched, Obi-Wan made no sound. "Well, boys, let's see what it takes to make a Jedi scream."

With a roar of rage, Qui-Gon drew his own blade and sprang. The men scattered and ran away, frightened out of their minds by the extremely large and ticked off Jedi Master coming at them. Obi-Wan looked up, the relief flooding his features quickly giving way to confusion. "Master, you should have left already. Not like I'm not happy to see you, but--"

He fell silent as gentle fingertips brushed against his forehead. "I couldn't leave you here, Padawan."

Qui-Gon looked him over carefully. There was a burn on his face where he had been grazed by a stray blaster shot, but most of the injuries were on his left arm. "Obi-Wan, I'm going to have to carry you. It will hurt, probably a lot..."

"S'alright, Master, not your fault."

As carefully as he could, Qui-Gon cradled his apprentice to his chest. It had to be very painful, but the sixteen-year-old made no sound, tucking his limp, left arm against his torso. They exited as quickly as the older Jedi could move without jostling his Padawan unduly.

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"I'm sorry," the Head Healer looked at the tall man carrying a limp woman in his arms and lending his shoulder for support to a young man standing with all of his weight on his right leg. "We can only treat one patient at a time."

He was surprised to see the boy, who looked dead on his feet and had a ghastly wound on one leg, offer, "Tahl can go first. I'll be fine."

Making no comment, Darren Mulroony carefully took Tahl from Qui-Gon's arms and brought her into the room. He saw, as he was shutting the door, the Jedi wrap one arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and help him hop to a chair.

"Do you think she'll be alright, Master?" He felt a bit better after a brief, shallow Healing trance on the way.

"She'll be fine," Qui-Gon answered with assurance.

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"The damage to her internal organs was very severe," the same Healer told them.

"She will recover," Qui-Gon said confidently.

Darren Mulroony looked to the apprentice, but Obi-Wan only shrugged helplessly. He knew what Darren was saying: Tahl would likely not make it.

"You can see her now, while I help your apprentice."

Nodding, Qui-Gon strode into the room which housed Tahl. Darren blinked in a bewildered manner at Obi-Wan, who again shrugged, this time tolerantly. "If you wouldn't mind supporting me on my right side, Healer Mulroony, I can walk. Slowly."

"Of course. And please call me Darren." He braced Obi-Wan, and they went at the speed the injured one could hobble. "To save time, why don't you tell me about your injuries on the way."

"Most of them are blaster wounds in my left arm."

"I noticed that. Why are they all in the same area?"

"I couldn't use that arm anyway, so I didn't waste too much energy protecting it. I'm sure you saw the open wound in my left leg; that was caused by a lightsaber. Mine, in fact." He smiled grimly. "I had sprained the same ankle the day before, and it had not quite healed."

By that time, they had made it into the middle of Tahl's room. He pressed on Darren's shoulder, letting him know that he wanted to stop. The woman lying on the bed was fading fast, and it took no great prowess of the Living Force to see that. "Tahl, I--" he swallowed. "Thank you."

As he and Darren continued into the next room, they heard the softly spoken response: "You're welcome."

The pair of them made it to the next room and closed the door. With considerable help, Obi-Wan stretched out his lanky form on the table. Darren smeared bacta all up his left arm and wrapped it in bandages. Just as he finished tucking the loose end in at the shoulder, they heard a harsh cry of grief from next door. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan shook his head; Qui-Gon had remained firmly in denial until the end.

"Will he be alright?" Darren asked.

"I don't know."

Shining a small light into the gaping leg wound, the Healer gave his diagnosis. "Well, Obi-Wan, you're lucky. The lightsaber went through your knee bone, but it missed the growth plate. We'll have to do a minor operation. Should I have Allard get your Master?"

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. We should leave him be."

Mulroony shook his head, but complied.

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"Allard, go get Master Jinn, now!"

"But Obi-Wan said--"

"Oh, for goodness sake! Keep him stable, I'll do it myself."

Darren burst into the other room. "Master Jinn, we need you in here right away." Qui-Gon looked up, not comprehending. "We have your apprentice in surgery right now, but something's gone wrong--"

That got him up. He flew into the operating room, finding Allard and the rest of the team of Healers working desperately to keep Obi-Wan alive. Kaethe was regulating the oxygen mask over the lower half of his face, while Joakim held emergency defibrillators at the ready. "Charging four hundred!"

"CLEAR!" William called from the machine.

Joakim brought the defibrillators down, and the sixteen-year-old convulsed. The monitor continued flat-lining. "Charging four-fifty!"

"CLEAR!"

Again the shock had no effect. Darren rubbed his forehead in defeat. "We're losing him."

"Please, may I try something?" He was surprised, but pleased, to hear the grieving Jedi speak.

"Go ahead. Do you need us to do anything?"

"You may stay, but the others need to leave, and the oxygen mask should stay on," he instructed, then went on to explain. "I'm going to go into his mind, he may have retreated there to escape the pain."

By the time he finished speaking, all of the Healers except Darren had left the room. Qui-Gon knelt on the floor next to the table, taking one limp hand in his own and resting his forehead against his Padawan's. Sinking into a meditative state, he slowly and cautiously entered Obi-Wan's mind, going deeper and deeper until he reached a grassy knoll. A tiny child sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, the curled posture making him look even smaller than he was. The untidy mop of ginger hair left no doubt that it was Obi-Wan. It was rather disconcerting to see him so small; he had been tall for his age as long as Qui-Gon had known him.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to scare the obviously already terrified child.

A pair of eyes peeked over the tops of his knees. "I'm afraid, Master."

"Afraid of what, Little One?" The name seemed to fit.

"It hurts. I don't want to go back." Abruptly, the little boy morphed into his sixteen-year-old Padawan. "I'm afraid for you, Master. I know how you felt about Tahl; I don't want you to close yourself off from the world like you did after Xanatos betrayed you. I'm afraid I won't be able to help you."

Surprised, Qui-Gon was about to answer, but the five-year-old was back. "Darren doesn't know if I'll ever walk again. If I can't walk, I can't be a Jedi, and--" his eyes welled up.

Not caring if it compromised his Jedi dignity, Qui-Gon picked up his tiny Padawan and hugged him. "Do you trust me, Little One?" He felt the movement of a nod against his chest. "You will be a great Jedi, and I will never give you up."

"Really?"

"Really really." (1)

Small arms latched around his neck. "We need to get back, Little One." He felt the minute tremors. "I will be with you. Trust me?" he asked again.

"Yes, Master," came the muffled voice.

Carefully once more, the Jedi carried his five-year-old apprentice through the confines of his mind, then withdrew to his own consciousness. He opened his eyes, hearing the reassuring steady beep from the heart monitor. Not moving, he studied his protege's face. Blue-green eyes flickered open. "Master," he said softly as Darren removed the oxygen mask.

"I'm here, Little One," he squeezed his uninjured right hand. "and I'm not going anywhere."

"I trust you, Master."

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The surgery was completed without further incident, with Qui-Gon helping Obi-Wan to channel away the worst of the pain, and Darren wrapped the sprained ankle. "It should be just fine, but stay off it for a day or two."

"Will I be able to walk?"

"I don't see why not, although I wasn't sure at first. It's the last time I'll underestimate the healing capabilities of a Jedi, I assure you. This will help you sleep," he held up a syringe. "Master Jinn can stay with you, if you'd like."

Obi-Wan flushed slightly. "That's alright, Master, you don't have to--"

"Of course I'll stay," Qui-Gon interjected. Darren injected the sleep-aid, and nodding to them, left the room. "Sleep, Little One. I will be here when you wake."

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It was a promise he had fully intended to keep. But after watching Obi-Wan sleep for several hours, interrupted only by the arrival of Mace and Bant, Qui-Gon was forced to realize how very close he had come to losing him. Tahl and Obi-Wan both... his heart clenched at the thought. There was one being responsible for it: Balog. The anger he had pushed aside while saving his Padawan's life resurfaced, and he was consumed by his desire for revenge (2). His face softened momentarily as he looked at his peacefully sleeping Padawan, and he pressed a kiss against the unlined forehead before striding from the room.

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"Obi-Wan!"

"Master Tahl? How--"

"There's no time. Listen, you have to wake up. Qui-Gon left hours ago, he's going to kill Balog if he gets the chance. He mustn't get that chance. You can't let him Turn to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan, you're his only hope."

"I won't fail."

Quickly, Tahl told him where he could find him, whom to watch out for, burning all the essential information into his brain. "Darren will never let me go," he pointed out.

"I'll take care of that, you just wake up."

Obediently, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see an empty room. He felt no traces of grogginess, and guessed that it was Tahl's doing. Pulling from his mind the directions she had given him, he limped from the room. He hoped he would not be too late.

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"You killed her," Qui-Gon's lightsaber was in his hand, dark anger in his eyes.

"She got in the way," Balog answered carelessly, unworried, not believing the Jedi would harm him.

Obi-Wan silenly hobbled into the room, cloaking his presence in order to wait for the opportune moment (3). That moment came when his Master raised the green blade to strike down the helpless Balog. Drawing his own lightsaber, the sixteen-year-old flung himself forward to block the blow. He looked up into his Master's face, but there was no recognition, just horrible blinding hatred.

Again and again, Qui-Gon struck, not realizing it was his Padawan he was attacking, only seeing someone standing in the way of his revenge.

Tears filled Obi-Wan's eyes as he blocked each strike of the 'saber. He knew he was losing his Master to the Dark, and it broke his heart. Finally, he managed to disarm Qui-Gon, and both of their lighsabers flew across the room. The anger in his eyes intensifying, the older Jedi picked up his protege in a Force-hold. Choking, Obi-Wan gasped out, "Sorry, Master... failed... please forgive..."

Just as his vision began to go dark, he was released. Bofore he could could hit the ground, however, he was pulled to a warm, solid chest. "Obi-Wan," he heard a strangled voice. "Forgive me, Little One."

As close as he was to keeling over, he could not help but think how much he liked the nickname that had originated in his mind earlier that day. "I forgive you, Master."

Guilt assaulting his own mind, Qui-Gon was going to debate it, but wisely kept his mouth shut for the moment. He was perfectly aware that Obi-Wan should not even be awake, let alone walking on his leg which had not yet healed. "Sleep, Little One." He sent waves of drowsiness into his apprentice's mind. "I will ber here when you wake this time, I promise."

As he shifted Obi-Wan in his arms, Mace strode in. "What's going on, Qui-Gon?"

"You need to take Balog into custody, and Obi-Wan needs medical attention. We'll talk later."

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"I've got to hand it to him, he's quite a kid." Darren had just finished rewrapping his leg.

"Yes, he is." Qui-Gon studied his peaceful face for a moment. "Healer Mulroony--"

"Darren."

"Darren, please believe that I had no intention of hurting him. There was this horrible fog around my mind, and I couldn't think clearly."

The auburn-haired Healer studied him for a moment. "I'm not going to press charges, if that's what you're worried about. I believe you, and I can see that you love him; I've got eyes. It would be detrimental to you both to take him away from you."

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"Master?" Qui-Gon was roused from his musings by a sleepy voice.

"I'm here, Little One." He paused. "You don't mind me calling you that, do you?"

"No, I like it." Obi-Wan stretched out his right hand, and Qui-Gon took it.

"Little One, please forgive me, I--"

"Master, I already told you I forgive you."

"I almost killed you." That pained him worse than his near Turn to the Dark Side.

"But you didn't. I'm still here, and I don't plan on going anywhere."

"You saved me from the Dark, Little One." He touched Obi-Wan's face with his free hand.

"If you had Fallen, I would have followed. I love you, Master."

His throat suspiciously tight, Qui-Gon hugged his Padawan. "And I love you, my Little One. Always remember that."

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A/N- Um, can we say mush? I love the stuff. Just a few brief notes:

1- The "really really" thing is from Shrek.

2- Qui-Gon was consumed by his need for revenge, or Jude Watson's pathetic and desperate attempt to make him seem human. Whichever you prefer.

3- The "opportune moment" thing is from Pirates of the Caribbean.

I hope everyone enjoyed, and constructive criticism welcome.