Chapter 28: Dreamed This Before
Obi-Wan hesitated on the threshold for a bare second, and Qui-Gon crossed quickly in out of the rain, tugging the boy with him. He had yet to release the thin shoulders, quivering with cold and fatigue and turmoil.
Julune hurried across the common room toward the door, her long skirt whipping about her ankles. "Qui-Gon! Where have you been? How dare you leave—"
She halted with one foot still lifted off the floor, dark brown eyes widening to an impossible size. Qui-Gon grinned, wishing briefly that he had a holo-camera handy. That look was priceless, and he would treasure it always.
"Obi-Wan!" It was shriek of gladness fit to split the ears, and Julune crossed the remaining distance in the flicker of an eye. She seized the boy fiercely and started raining kisses into his hair. Qui-Gon let go and stepped back just in time to avoid an elbow in the eye.
Obi-Wan giggled bashfully under the assault, wiggling uncomfortably, though not strongly enough to dissuade her. "Julune, I'm all wet . . ."
"Oh, do you honestly think I care?" Julune backed off slightly, but only to cup her hands around his cheeks and start peppering his face with kisses. She did not neglect the bruises, but touched each very gently with a whisper of a kiss, redeeming them from pain to loving welcome. "You're home, you're home! Don't you ever leave again!"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes with a sigh, and she kissed the lids, then planted one last, resounding smack on his forehead and stood back, still holding his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You've been hurt," she said sadly. "Oh, sweetheart, you're far too thin, and worn, and tired. You've been mistreated. But you're here now, and none of that matters."
"I didn't forget," he told her seriously, his voice soft but earnest. "You told me not to forget, and I didn't. I always remembered that you said you loved me, and sometimes that was all I had. But it was all I needed."
"Oh, my sweet child." Again she wrapped the frail, shivering figure in her arms, rocking him slightly. Her response was quiet, shaky. "I'm glad you didn't forget. It's as true now as it was then. Everything is going to be all right. You're safe at home now and everything is going to be all right."
At first he returned the embrace loosely, tentatively. But as the moments slipped by and Julune did not relax her grip, Obi-Wan's arms began to tighten around her waist, clutching forcefully, as if to assure himself of her reality. After another few moments, Qui-Gon realized that the boy was weeping, his sobs nearly silent, his body still. There was an edge of desperation in it, though, and the man understood that his boy had been longing for this moment with every fiber of his being, and now that it had finally come, he was confused, unsure of how to react. It was too much, too overwhelming—Obi-Wan had been alone and lonely, aching for touch, for too many sleepless nights and weary days.
His heart raw with this understanding, Qui-Gon stepped forward and enfolded them both in his great arms, his broad figure allowing him to do so, though his hands did not quite touch. And he rejoiced in the opportunity to do this, to hold all three of the people he held most dear to him at once. Here at last was the fulfillment of all their desires, as he and his wife clasped both of their little ones safely between them.
Soon Obi-Wan began to droop, and Julune gently drew back, still supporting much of his weight with her hands on his arms. "You're too cold, sweetie. I think a warm shower is in order. Are you hungry? I'll fix you something."
The boy shook his head slowly. "Guerra and Paxxi fed me. I'm just very tired."
"Tea, then. Qui-Gon?"
The man nodded, taking note of the strange names to ask Obi-Wan about them when he was a little more rested. He stepped forward to take over Obi-Wan's support, freeing Julune to move toward the kitchen. "A bath might be the better option." He sighed, remembering the wounds that marked the child's back, and probably elsewhere on his body as well. "Come, I'll help you to the refresher."
Once there, though, it was plain that Obi-Wan wasn't up to doing this alone. He wavered in the doorway, then turned a pleading gaze to his large guardian. It hurt Qui-Gon yet again to understand that his boy was too weary and wounded to maintain his dignity as he had before—had everything been stripped from this youngster? Every sentient right? Every shred of personal pride?
But after only a second of looking into those clouded blue-gray eyes, he changed his mind. This was trust, complete and absolute, the faith of a small child in the one he knew would always care for him, no matter the circumstances. If Qui-Gon were anyone else, the boy would not surrender so quickly and easily. This was a mark of what had survived Obi-Wan's captivity, not what had been destroyed.
Without a word, he led the boy into the 'fresher and shut the door. He began running water in the tub, turning back to find Obi-Wan struggling to lift his tunic, swaying alarmingly on his feet. Still silently, he helped the boy strip out of his sodden, torn garments and got him into the water, then knelt beside the bath and gently, carefully washed away all the dirt and blood, sorry only that he would not wash away the pain with it. Obi-Wan sat still, trembling, eyes closed in humiliation or relief, or both. His breathing sharpened when Qui-Gon touched a bad wound, but other than that he barely reacted, lifting his arms and tilting his chin when instructed, remaining completely quiescent under the man's hands.
Qui-Gon wanted to weep at every mark that laid on his boy, every welt, every bruise, every jutting bone, every evidence of cruelty and neglect, but he held it in for later. He would be strong for Obi-Wan for as long as he needed him to be. But there were so very many marks that needed to be mourned . . .
Afterward he wrapped the boy in the largest, fluffiest towels they owned and let him sit on the edge of the tub, then opened the 'fresher door to find that Julune had set a change of clean clothes on the floor outside. He smiled and brought them in, showing Obi-Wan the blue tunic and brown trousers, the thick, clean stockings. "Do you remember these? We kept them for you, after Andros Martin took you away. We knew—we hoped—that you would come back someday, and you might need them then. Julune was upset about making you leave in those too-small Jedi clothes, anyway. But then, everything upset her that day."
Obi-Wan reached out a trembling hand, trailed it wonderingly over the fabric. "I remember," he said softly. "I remember going to market. I didn't want any clothes, but Julune insisted. You bought me a flimsy of velinuts."
"That's right." Qui-Gon was inordinately pleased with this little speech. Obi-Wan had been too quiet ever since they got home—it was wonderful to hear his voice again.
"That really happened, then. I thought I might have dreamed it."
"Yes, it really happened. Let's get you into these clothes now. There's something I want to show you."
Obi-Wan submitted to being dressed, still shivering slightly, though it seemed to be more with reaction to the day's events than with cold. Qui-Gon half-carried him down the hall to the bedroom they had prepared weeks ago, and paused in the doorway to switch on the light and let Obi-Wan have a good look. "This is your room, Obi-Wan. It's been waiting for you, just like we have."
The boy looked around unsteadily, taking in the warm, rich colors, the large windows now flashing with lightning outside, the wooden desk, the big bed with its thick comforter and large pillows. Two model star fighters hung from the ceiling in the corner—Qui-Gon had bought those on impulse one day, thinking that surely all young boys liked spaceships. It was the sight of those that caused Obi-Wan to come undone now.
"How did you know?" he whispered.
Qui-Gon had no answer. They had not known, honestly, and every scrap of logic and fact said that they would probably never see Obi-Wan in person again, much less bring him home. They had only had hope without reason to guide them, but they had followed it willingly.
He shrugged gently, dismayed to feel the boy's trembling increase. "You like it, then?"
"It-It's perfect. Just perfect." Suddenly he turned to look up Qui-Gon, his eyes terrified. "Is this real?" he demanded shakily. "Am I dreaming? Will I wake up and find myself back in the slave-cell lying on the cold duracrete, listening to the other slaves sleeping? I think I've dreamed this before. Am I still dreaming?"
"It's real. You aren't dreaming." Qui-Gon knew, though, that only time would prove this to Obi-Wan. Words were not enough. He needed to know it in his bones.
Obi-Wan nodded uncertainly, still gazing around, trying to see everywhere at once, unable to truly absorb the truth of it.
Qui-Gon felt the boy half-fall against him, stifling a yawn, and squeezed his shoulders gently. "You're tired. Let's get you into bed."
It was yet another new, longed-for pleasure to sit on the edge of the bed and tuck Obi-Wan under the covers, pulling the quilt up to his chin. Obi-Wan wriggled down into the pillows, laying on his back at first, then quickly flipping over onto his stomach. His eyelids drooped, and Qui-Gon brushed the too-long hair off his forehead, letting his touch linger when the boy closed his eyes in contentment.
"Don't go anywhere, please?" he requested sleepily.
"I'm not leaving," Qui-Gon assured him. "I don't think I could bear to."
A gentle knock at the door made Obi-Wan start and jerk up onto his knees, limbs shaking, eyes wide. Qui-Gon put a steadying hand on his shoulder and looked over to find Julune holding a mug, her expression apologetic. "I didn't mean to startle you, sweetheart. Just wanted to get something hot into you before you sleep."
Obi-Wan nodded sheepishly and slumped back against the pillows. "Sorry. I'm just . . ." He shrugged, unable to complete the thought.
"It's all right. Don't apologize." With one last rub to the boy's shoulder, Qui-Gon carefully stood from the bed to let Julune take his place, holding the mug, a couple of med-tabs in her other hand.
Obi-Wan looked up at him in near panic. "Please, don't go."
"I'm just going to change into some dry clothes. I'll be right back, I promise. Julune will be with you the entire time."
The boy nodded, somewhat assured, though his eyes were still too wide, his breathing too fast. Julune gently distracted him with the tea, allowing Qui-Gon to slip away. He skinned out of his wet clothes and into comfortable sleep clothes in less time than it took to mention it, and was back in Obi-Wan's bedroom in time to hear Julune explain that the medicine was just a pain reliever. The boy took the med-tabs docilely and washed them down with tea, his face registering surprise and pleasure.
"This is good. What kind of tea is it?"
"Marjili with cinna." Julune seemed as unable to stop herself from touching the boy as Qui-Gon had been—she brushed the hair off his forehead, caressed the hand lying on the covers, and seemed a breath away from pulling him into her arms and never letting go.
"It's good." Obi-Wan drank a few more sips, then handed over the mug and slumped back against the pillows. His eyes never left Qui-Gon from the moment he re-entered the room, though, tracking every movement, making sure he was there. Julune twined her fingers through the thin, shaking ones and stayed where she was.
Qui-Gon sat on his other side. "You need to sleep now, little one. You're exhausted."
"I don't know if I can." The whispered admission seemed wrung from him, the pale lips twisting slightly in self-abasement. "I'm . . . I'm scared." He blushed, but did not look away, unwilling to take his eyes from Qui-Gon's face.
"Scared that you'll wake up somewhere else, that this will be a dream?"
The boy nodded reluctantly, but there was more there, peeking reluctantly out through his eyes.
Qui-Gon sighed, shoulders slumping. "Scared I won't be here?"
Obi-Wan blushed yet more hotly, but nodded slowly. "Sorry," he said thickly, almost too quietly to be heard.
"There's no shame in it, little one." Qui-Gon carefully laid down on his side, facing Obi-Wan, and relaxed into the bed. He willed him to see the truth in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."
The boy hesitated for a moment, staring fixedly at him, then turned over on his stomach, head turned toward Qui-Gon. Rather than let go of his hand, Julune simply lay down next to him, letting her arm stretch across Obi-Wan as the youngster reached for Qui-Gon. The man folded his hand over the entwined fingers of his wife and their boy, holding firmly. He flooded the Force around them with warmth and safety, even though he wasn't sure if Obi-Wan could feel it.
Immediately Obi-Wan's eyes began to droop, though they languidly re-opened several times, checking to make sure Qui-Gon was still there. At last they did not open again, and they knew he was asleep. Still Qui-Gon and Julune just lay there. They listened to their little-boy-lost breathe, listened to the fury of the storm, safely shut away outside the walls of their home. After a while Qui-Gon reached out with a tendril of the Force and turned off the light in the room, leaving only the lamp in the hall shedding a pale radiance in the open door, occasional bursts of lightning flaring through like an erratically strobing sun.
"So I take it you left to fetch Obi-Wan?" Julune asked, quietly in deference to the sleeping boy, but with an edge of anger and pain beneath her tone.
"I'm sorry, dearheart." Qui-Gon squeezed her fingers contritely, his voice subdued. "I shouldn't have left without a word like that. But Obi-Wan commed, and he was at the spaceport, and the storm was coming—I barely took time to grab my cloak before I ran out the door. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to cause you worry." He carefully lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers, letting his lips mold softly over the delicate flesh, though he didn't dare push the kiss any farther.
Julune left him in silent agony for a moment, then sighed. "I forgive you." One finger poked out to point at him accusingly. "But only because you brought me a very nice apology present, you understand."
He chuckled quietly. "I understand. I'll never do it again."
"You'd better not. Leave without a word, I mean, not bring Obi-Wan back."
"It won't be a problem. We'll never let him out of our sight again."
"No. No, we won't." Julune rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling with another sigh. "How is his back? You got a look at it in the 'fresher, didn't you?"
Qui-Gon made an affirmative noise. He should have known—she must have felt it when she hugged the boy. Julune had always been more observant and sensitive than most people gave her credit for. "Nothing was bleeding, thank the Force, and they seemed to be healing, as if someone had tended them already. But a few looked infected. We should take him to the med-center tomorrow."
Julune grunted. "He won't want to go. We'll have to make him, as gently and kindly as possible, of course. Did he tell you how he managed to escape?"
"No. He didn't want to talk about it, any of it. But something terrible happened to him. Something worse than being sold into slavery, being beaten, starved, used. I haven't felt him touch the Force. He hasn't even tried. He always lived in it so easily and joyfully, Julune. And now that's gone. Our Obi-Wan has been changed."
For a long moment she was silent, just taking in what he had said, trying to understand. At last she drew in a deep breath and said firmly, "But he is still our Obi-Wan."
"Yes. He is."