Chapter 21: Adding to the Emptiness
That night, for the first time since Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan completed their connection in a steady foundation of trust and commitment, the bond failed them. The dreams came as usual, and as usual, Qui-Gon stood against them, with every expectation of seeing them tremble, fade, and vanish. But they did not. The vision continued after only a brief hesitation, a moment of wavering like that of a rampaging man who halts momentarily at the arrival of the local peacemakers, but then goes on, unafraid of such puny retribution.
For the first time, Qui-Gon, too, was oppressed by the horrific images, and this time he was unable to shield Obi-Wan and take the burden on himself. It felt like the vilest betrayal, then, to abandon the boy, but he had to, had to bring himself back to the waking world. And again he ran down the hall to find his young ward struggling silently in his sleep, bathed in sweat and terror and helplessness.
In an echo of that other night nearly a week ago, he wakened the boy and calmed him, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words in his ear. But this time he made no promises, for he knew they would be broken. This time there was no hope of finding a way through together, for the chance to seek it had been taken from them. This time the desperation and grief in the youngster's hands as he clung to his rescuer's sleep tunic was all too real, no concoction of a fevered nightmare, but plain reality.
Both knew that this was the last time they would have in freedom, with no judging eyes or skeptical glances, just the two of them alone in the darkness. Obi-Wan pressed his face against Qui-Gon's chest as if he wished he could climb inside, as if he didn't know that he was already there, and he refused to let go even after his breath had evened and his sobs had ceased. So Qui-Gon maneuvered himself up onto the couch, half-under the shaking boy, and held him as he had in that first night of fever and fear.
Eventually the youngster exhausted himself enough to drift into uneasy slumber, shivering now as cool air sluiced over sweat-damp skin. Qui-Gon bundled him up in the blankets and stayed where he was. He kept watch over the boy who had almost become his son, brushing away the nightmares before they could settle, smoothing the wrinkles out of the young forehead until the boy's rest was deep and peaceful.
He did not sleep.
X
Andros Martin returned the next morning, as Qui-Gon had somehow known he would. He couldn't leave them even one more day, could he? Of course not, Qui-Gon reflected bitterly. That would be too kind.
The Jedi Knight stood in the doorway, watching the man with that infuriating calm. "May I come in?"
Qui-Gon glanced behind himself at Julune, who merely tightened her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest. When it had been time for her to leave for work, she had answered his wordless question with a scathing look. "I feel sick," she had said, more fiercely than the words warranted. "I'm staying home today."
Now she said nothing, but her eyes conveyed her wishes quite clearly. Qui-Gon looked back to the Jedi with a small, silent sigh. "Must you?" He was a bit dismayed by the plaintive tone in his voice, but he couldn't take it back, and he didn't really want to. It was how he truly felt, and he had never been less than honest, even with the lowest of the low he had met in his journeying.
Martin's eyes were large and soft with sympathy. "Yes. There are matters we must discuss."
"Obi-Wan has chosen to go with you, as of course you must have known he would," Qui-Gon said without rancor, weary of the entire ordeal. "What else can there be for us to say to each other?"
The Jedi merely repeated himself. "There are matters we must discuss."
Qui-Gon hesitated, then slowly stepped back, no longer blocking the doorway with his large frame. Martin took this as an invitation and serenely stepped inside. He took a seat in the broken-down recliner without asking permission, unknowingly imitating another Jedi who had sat there, and Qui-Gon found the action somehow obscene, defiling.
"Obi-Wan is in the garden," he said, his voice betraying none of this. Saying goodbye to his friends, the tree, the flowers, the grasses. "I'll fetch him."
Julune sat stiffly on the couch, her gaze fixed on the man who had come to take their boy away from them. Qui-Gon left her on guard, aware that he was leaving Andros Martin alone in a niber's den, and caring not at all. Each step felt like he was wading through syrup, slow and heavy, but he wished they could take a little longer, delay each moment as long as possible.
Too soon he stood in the back doorway, watching Obi-Wan in the garden for the last time. Obi-Wan stood on the large flat rock with his back to the house, his hands raised to waist level as if to catch the sparse breeze that murmured in the grasses. He face was tilted gently upward, looking to the twisted tree leaning on the wall. Qui-Gon could feel the silent communion in the twists of Force-current that swirled around the boy, around each bud and leaf and pebble. The Force of poor abused, abandoned Bandomeer was agitated, dim, already mourning its loss, and Qui-Gon could only commiserate.
Obi-Wan turned around before Qui-Gon could make the slightest noise to announce his presence. His eyes were shadowed, blue-gray, but unwavering. "He's come, hasn't he?"
Qui-Gon nodded, unable to speak.
Obi-Wan walked to Qui-Gon and into the house, and did not once look back.
Martin half-rose when they entered the common room, then settled back, hands tucked into opposite sleeves. "This will only take a moment, and then we must go. My transport is scheduled to leave in less than an hour."
Qui-Gon's heart stuttered in his chest. So soon? But he merely nodded and sat on the couch, pulled Obi-Wan down with him, between himself and Julune. Don't make it harder for the boy than it already is, he reminded himself. Don't add your pain to his. He can't bear it all.
"What's on your mind, Knight Martin?"
Andros Martin licked his lips suddenly, letting them see his nervousness. "You . . . you have formed a bond. It's very visible in the Force, bright and vibrant."
Obi-Wan stiffened beside him, and Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around him without thinking, his eyes still fixed on the man across from him. He would offer no defense. They had done nothing wrong. "Yes?"
"You are aware that Obi-Wan will need to form a bond with his new master? It is necessary for Jedi training."
"Surely it is possible for a Jedi to have more than one bond, just as it is possible for a father to love more than one child," Qui-Gon said.
The knight nodded reluctantly. "Certainly. Some masters train multiple pupils, and all of the bonds remain, at least remnants of them. But having two vibrant, living bonds at once—it is dangerous. You must understand. Obi-Wan will be conflicted between the two of you. It is unavoidable, as hard as he may try to keep the feelings separate—in moments of danger, in the heat of battle, in an intense negotiation—any distraction may prove fatal. You must understand this."
Qui-Gon heart twisted in pain again. He understood all too well. He would never be able to live with himself, knowing that a moment of unguarded emotion sent inadvertently through their bond had caused Obi-Wan or Xanatos to be hurt, or worse. "Yes," he said faintly.
Julune shook her head briskly, taking over without effort. "What do you suggest? Surely not that they should cut the bond off? That's preposterous! It would cause them both enormous pain."
"No. That won't be necessary." Martin shook his head gently. "The bond simply must be suppressed, laid in dormancy, until Obi-Wan's training is complete. Then he can re-awaken it, if he so chooses."
Qui-Gon found himself able to breathe deeply again. That wasn't so terrible, then. But already he ached with loss. He wouldn't be able to feel the boy anymore, wouldn't know where he was, what he was thinking and feeling. He wouldn't be able to guard him from the dreams anymore.
But then, he had already proved useless in that capacity, hadn't he?
Martin leaned forward slightly, hesitantly raising a hand. "May I?"
Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, saw the fear and pain, and the determination that overrode both. He swallowed, and whispered, "Yes."
The invasion was swift and careful, touching their minds with the numbing force of a cascade of ice. Man and boy breathed a shuddering gasp, and the deed was done. The bright corner of Qui-Gon's mind was dark and silent, and the emptiness tore through him like a crashing wave. Gone. Obi-Wan was gone.
The boy shivered under his arm, gasping again, and Qui-Gon snatched him to his chest, touching him physically because he could not touch him mentally anymore. Obi-Wan dug his fingers into the man's tunic, as he had more than once before, and both knew that this was the last time.
"No," Obi-Wan whispered. "Please no."
Qui-Gon gulped back the words that rose in his throat, demands that they forget this, that they abandon the Jedi to their own means, that they move to Thyferra and live in peace and seclusion. He knew that Obi-Wan hadn't meant to say that, and reinforcing it would only add to the emptiness.
Too soon Obi-Wan steadied. He pressed his face against Qui-Gon's chest for just a moment longer, as if soaking in the contact to store it for the months and years ahead. Then he drew back, gently patting Qui-Gon's arm in reassurance. Qui-Gon dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, and said nothing. Don't make it harder. The admonition had become a mantra. Don't make it harder.
Obi-Wan turned back to the Jedi. "All right. I'm ready."
Julune pulled in a breath that sounded like a sob. Qui-Gon reached across to grab her shoulder. Neither objected.
On the stoop Obi-Wan wavered for the first time, missing a step as Andros Martin continued walking calmly into the street. The Jedi paused and looked back, waiting patiently. Obi-Wan trembled.
He turned and looked up at the Jinns, no longer his guardians, his rescuers, his anything. No. Still his friends. Always his friends. It was not enough, but they still had that.
Julune opened her arms, and he fell into them with a muffled sob, his Jedi calm crumbling to reveal the frightened, grieving child beneath. She pressed him close, squeezing her eyes shut in a vain attempt to trap the tears. "I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she murmured fiercely. "I love you so much. Don't you dare forget that. Don't you ever forget that."
He shook his head convulsively, and she rocked the boy for a moment, then gently released him, stepping back to give Qui-Gon room. For a moment only the two looked into each other's eyes, and then Obi-Wan was wrapped in Qui-Gon's arms again, so tightly that it seemed he could only breathe in hitching gasps.
"Love you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, his throat almost too tight for speech. "My little one. My precious little one. Don't forget."
"I won't. I couldn't," Obi-Wan whispered. "Not ever."
And that had to be enough. Qui-Gon carefully opened his arms and let the boy walk away, feeling the terrible rending as he took part of his heart with him. The pain was unbearable. But he did not regret it.
He did not regret one second of the time he had spent on this miserable little planet.