Chapter 31: Letters of Red
Qui-Gon would have been perfectly content to stay just where they were for the rest of the day. But eventually he became aware of the fact that his body was starting to ache everywhere it touched the tiled floor, that Julune's grip had loosened slightly, probably as she began to think about something else, and that Obi-Wan was no longer as completely relaxed as he had been. In fact, the boy was beginning to fill with tension again, his arms wrapped as far around Qui-Gon's chest as they would go. Something was obviously troubling him.
The man waited, though, hoping that his brand-new son would find the strength to voice his concern on his own, without being asked. He concentrated everything he had on being as open and willing as possible, hoping that it would somehow be conveyed to Obi-Wan.
It seemed to work. After a time the boy shifted slightly against him, and drew in a breath to speak. "Qui-Gon . . ."
"You know, you could call me a different name, if you wanted to." He caught his breath, suddenly doubtful. Was it too soon to ask for this?
But Obi-Wan relaxed marginally, resting his head more heavily on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Yes, I know." It was a breathless murmur, fraught with joy that superseded the tension. "You're . . . you're my father. My papa. My Qui-Gon. Papa Qui-Gon."
And oh, this was a joy too wide and too deep for words. Qui-Gon could only smile fit to split his face, his cheek still pressed against the bright head of his boy, no longer the son only of his heart. It was like an explosion of sparks in his head, spinning away in a delighted dance that shrieked his glee to be heard and seen by all the stars and galaxies. This is my son, my son, and he called me his papa!
Obi-Wan, too, shivered with pleasure, squeezing Qui-Gon a little tighter. He seemed to distance himself, though, as he remembered. "There's something I need to tell you . . ."
"Anything, my Obi-Wan. You can tell me anything."
It was a shudder of dread, this time, that caused the slender arms to tighten. "I feel wrong not letting you know. I should have told you last night, before you brought me home. You might have changed your mind if you knew . . ." He drew in a hard breath, held it, let it go. "Qui-Gon, Papa Qui-Gon, they're going to come after me."
Qui-Gon pulled in a breath, and felt Julune stiffen beside them. "Who? Miko Belimi?" The name was engraved on his mind, a painful burning brand, letters of red that demanded something dark to snuff them. "The man who held you as a slave, who beat and abused you? I won't let him touch you, son." This, at least, he was completely and utterly sure of, and his voice was adamantine-firm, fueled with a deep, dark rage he had not yet acknowledged, though he knew he needed to deal with it soon. "He will never lay a hand on you again."
I'll kill him first. It wasn't something that Obi-Wan needed to hear, but Qui-Gon thought it, even so.
Julune nodded, reaching across to smooth the boy's head, though it did not ease his sudden trembling. "And how would he know where you've gone? He doesn't even know that we exist, unless you mentioned us at some point. He wouldn't know to come here."
"No." Obi-Wan's voice was a bare whisper, stark with terror. "But Andros Martin does."
"Andros Martin?" Another name that was engraved in red fire. "You said that all he did was sell you into slavery. Why would he come after you again?"
Now the boy was locked again in that dark silence, beginning to shake despite the arms that held him close and warm. Qui-Gon could feel the terror rising in him again, overtaking his reason, subsuming the joy and peace they had known only a few moments ago.
"Obi-Wan. Son." He spoke in a gentle whisper, his hand moving over the slender, shivering back in calming circles. "What happened to you?"
Obi-Wan shook harder.
"Please, sweetheart. Please tell us. We need to understand so we can protect you."
The boy drew in a shuddering breath. "You should send me away," he said tearfully. "I'm sorry, I should have gone, I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm putting you in danger! Please, tear up those documents and send me away!"
"No! Never!" Qui-Gon tried to draw back to look into his son's face, but Obi-Wan clung to him, pressing his face against his shoulder. Incredible that a youngster so worn and thin could muster this much energy. He was running on pure adrenaline, utter terror dictating his actions—terror not for himself, but for the two adults who had made themselves his parents
"Obi-Wan, we will never give you up!" Qui-Gon said fiercely. "You're ours now, ours forever. You belong to Julune and me, and we will never, never send you away. If you're truly certain that someone will come after you, then we'll take measures to protect you. We'll call the Thyferran security and have them watch out, we'll move away, we'll even get a Jedi if we have to. But we will never let you go."
"You should, though." It was a shuddering whisper, heavy with misery. "You should. You should get rid of me just as soon as you can. I'm not worth the trouble."
"Oh, what utter nonsense!" Julune cried in something very like fury. Obi-Wan flinched, and she quickly wrapped her arm further around him, impeding Qui-Gon's back-rubbing somewhat. "Sorry," she muttered, not very contritely. "My poor, sweet child, is this what three months of slavery has done with you? Made you believe this terrible lie? You are worth all the trouble in the universe, and don't you ever doubt it for an instant!"
"You needn't fear for us," Qui-Gon said in the most reassuring tone he could manage, hiding his anger at what had been done to his son's sweet, innocent spirit, this utter lack of self-worth. "Sometime when you feel better, let me take you to a shooting range and show you what I can do with a blaster. And Julune is not much worse than I am—I've taught her just about everything I know. I'll teach you, too. I spent years traveling the galaxy, doing whatever came to hand, and I am quite proficient as a fighter. Not quite the warrior a Jedi would be, perhaps, but I can hold my own, even against most Force-sensitives. Andros Martin will never touch you while I stand, and I will not fall."
Obi-Wan sighed, slumping down against his father's chest, and Qui-Gon dared to believe that they might have gotten through to him, at least partially. After a moment, though, he realized that boy was fairly quivering with exhaustion. He had worn himself out in the past hour, and Qui-Gon wasn't feeling exactly fresh and perky, either.
"Now, Obi-Wan," he said after a time, when they had settled down a bit, the taut strings of tension relaxing. "I know how you feel about couches and napping, but will you at least rest for a bit? You must be tired. I'll comm Master Yoda myself, though I know he'll want to talk to you when you're up to it. He truly seems to care for you."
The boy nodded wearily. "I know he does. I wouldn't want to make him wait any longer. But no, I don't want to talk to him just yet."
"That's fine. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
Qui-Gon climbed carefully to his feet, drawing his son and wife up with him. Julune kept a hand on each male shoulder, and Obi-Wan still had not released his torso, so it was a somewhat awkward procession that made its way into the common room and over to the biggest, fluffiest couch they owned. There Qui-Gon tried to settle his boy down, mindful that Obi-Wan didn't like him to get out of his sight. He would wait 'til Obi-Wan was more relaxed, if not asleep, before he departed to make his comm calls.
Julune seemed to sense his dilemma. She started singing one of those sweet, slow folk songs she loved, her rich, earthy voice weaving tenderly through the morning-lit air. Gradually Obi-Wan's attention shifted from his father to his mother, blinking slowly, watching her past a veil of weariness, fingers moving through the fringe at the edge of the afghan Julune had spread over him. He didn't flinch or protest when Qui-Gon made his way to his feet again, then into the kitchen, trying to keep himself in eye-sight through the open doorway.
He had to step out of sight to reach the comm, though, and he silently vowed to make it a short conversation. The Twi'lek receptionist knew him, now, and let him through without murmur. Yoda was already there, apparently waiting for the call. Had he known, somehow? Qui-Gon wouldn't put it past the little green master.
"Greetings, Qui-Gon Jinn. Tidings you have of our lost child?" His face was Jedi-calm, revealing neither hope nor despair, but Qui-Gon did not miss the spark of interest in those large yellow eyes.
Qui-Gon felt his face break into a broad grin, joy bubbling up again. It was never far from the surface now, no matter what other troubles tried to cloud it. "Yes, I do. And it is good news indeed!"
The sparkle in Master Yoda's eyes intensified, even brightened, as Qui-Gon quickly related all that he knew, how Obi-Wan had been sold into slavery, but escaped and found his way to the people who cared for him above all others. He finished his breathless account with what had happened that very morning, how they made him their son in fact as well as in heart.
"All we need to do is register the documents with the record-keepers on Coruscant, and send a copy to the Thyferran capitol to begin the process of making him a legal citizen here. Obi-Wan is ours now, and no one will take him away."
He said that last a bit challengingly, unsure of how the Jedi would respond to this. When he said no one, he meant no one, especially not those who had had a claim on his boy earlier in his life, and used that responsibility so callously.
But Yoda did not seem in the least put off. "Very good news this is, indeed yes! It brings great joy to my heart to learn this, and very glad I will be to spread the news to others among the Jedi who were concerned for Obi-Wan. But there is something else you have to tell me, yes?"
Qui-Gon hesitated, then plunged on. It didn't matter if Yoda believed this part or not—he believed it, and he would do whatever was necessary to take care of his child. "Obi-Wan believes that the people who kidnapped him may come back again—no, he believes without doubt that they will. I assured him that we will do everything we can to defend him, even to asking for Jedi protection. Is this possible, or is it too small a matter for the Jedi Order?"
"Hmm." Yoda tapped his chin thoughtfully with one clawed finger. "No, not too small a matter this is, especially if believe you do that this Martin can touch the Force. This is very much a matter for the Jedi, and see to it I will that someone is sent to you as soon as it can be done."
Qui-Gon nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. It was a relief to be believed, to have his fears taken seriously, and suddenly he understood a little more what Obi-Wan had been feeling not long ago. He vowed to take more care in the future not to discard his son's fears, though he knew that they would probably be wide and varied now, with all that the child had suffered. "Thank you, Master Yoda. I am greatly relieved to know that. Though I would prefer to take care of this amongst ourselves, any extra protection can only be a good thing, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure my son is safe."
Yoda nodded solemnly. "Know this I do. Obi-Wan has found a mighty defender in you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and glad I am to learn this. Will it be permitted for me to speak to him soon?"
"I hope so. I promised him that he could wait until he was ready, but he knows that you are a friend to him, despite all he's been through. You could try comming in a couple of days, if you like."
"I will. Thank you again, Master Jinn. Farewell. Be sure to comm Master Heim Shilbey."
Qui-Gon grinned. "I will. Farewell, Master Yoda."
The comm to Shilbey wasn't much different, though the human man was much more willing to show his relief and joy. He, too, wanted to talk to Obi-Wan, but accepted that the boy needed more time. And he also seemed genuinely happy that the Jinns had adopted the youngster, which Qui-Gon was glad to see. He hadn't been sure how the Agri-Corps manager would react to that particular bit of news. But Shilbey seemed pleased with anything that made Obi-Wan more safe and secure. Qui-Gon's regard for the hard-bitten man went up another notch.
After saying farewell, he stood staring at the comm for a moment, reflecting on the conversations he'd just completed. He snapped out of it, though, when he realized that Julune was no longer singing, but talking to their new son with a slightly stern tone. Curious and just a bit alarmed, he quickly stepped back into the common room.
"Well, let's try it this way, then," Julune was saying. "You're my son now, right?"
Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the afghan.
"And that means you'll obey me when I ask you to do something, right?"
The boy looked suddenly very nervous, eyes darting past her to look pleadingly at Qui-Gon, and she melted immediately. "Oh, sweetheart, that wasn't what I meant. You know I would only ask you to do things for your own good, don't you? I love you. I'm not your master. No one is. You belong to me as my son, not as a slave. No one will ever own you that way again. Do you understand?"
He looked back ather, swallowing convulsively, and nodded, very slightly.
"And you'll do what I ask you to do?" Her slender fingers reached out to caress his cheek, softening the sting of these words as much as was possible.
"Yes." It was a tiny whisper, dry and cracked.
"Well, today, I'm ordering you to be as lazy as you possibly can, all right? Don't move unless you absolutely have to. Let Qui-Gon and me do everything for you. If you need something, just ask, and we'll get it. We're going to take care of you until you're strong and well again, and then forever after, too." Her voice was soft and gentle now, love pulsing in every syllable. "Do you understand?"
Obi-Wan drew in a shuddering breath, sinking down into the cushions where he lay curled up on his side. "Yes, I understand. Thank you, Julune."
She caressed his forehead. "Please, baby."
He smiled slowly. "Mama. Thank you, Mama Julune."
Julune leaned forward to kiss his temple. "Good enough. Soon I hope you'll drop the names, too, but you can call us whatever you want for as long as you want."
His arm snaked out from under the afghan to wrap around her neck briefly, and then he drew back, curling up into that protective ball that seemed to be the most comforting position for him now. Gently his eyes closed, and Qui-Gon drew a breath of relief in tandem with his wife.
They had a long way to go. But at least they had begun.