Somehow they got through the first day. Everything was new and different for all three members of the Jinn family, and points of awkwardness surfaced at every turn. Every time Qui-Gon and Julune took a step, it seemed, they discovered another disconcerting, heartbreaking change in their Obi-Wan. But love could smooth the roughest paths, as one of Julune's favorite folk songs asserted, and they proved the strange proverb true with every moment.
In the afternoon Julune left to run errands, confident in Qui-Gon's abilities to handle affairs without her, if only for a few hours. She rushed through her paperwork at the bacta corp, eager to complete the other tasks she had set for herself. The next stop was Hilara City Hall, specifically the Record Office.
Julune bit her lip as the fussy little clerk entered information on his console, scanned the documents, transmitted the data, chatted about last night's storm. She waited for him to pause, to frown, to announce that something was wrong and the adoption would not go through, that all their plans would crumble, or once again be frustrated and turned aside. It seemed to happen so blasted often.'
Well, perhaps it had only been once, honestly. But it felt like thousands. They had kept those flimsies locked in a box in Qui-Gon's desk, incomplete, useless, broken souvenirs of a life unlived. They were a symbol of the open wounds they carried on their hearts—why hadn't they thrown them away, knowing they would never need them? They hadn't been able to. But every time Julune had thought of those documents, the missing signature that would have made them a symbol of joy rather than pain, it hurt all over again.
It seemed too wonderful to be true, to be standing here in a badly-lit office finally completing this long-interrupted process. Julune remembered her reaction last night when she saw how badly her child had been abused, how she had instantly claimed that none of that mattered now. Even then she had known that it wasn't true, just an empty platitude, but she had said it in a desperate attempt to banish the fear he carried behind his eyes. It mattered. It mattered deeply. And Qui-Gon and Julune had some healing to do, as well—this fact was only highlighted by her inability to believe that this was true, that the shelves of dusty documents she smelled and the man with thinning hair bustling around on the other side of the counter were not figments of fancy. They would all have to work together to adjust to their new reality.
But then the clerk was smiling at her, handing her a copy of the transmission acknowledgement, and informing her that they should receive a signed confirmation in three or four days. "Have a nice day, Mrs. Jinn," he finished cheerfully.
She might have said something in reply. She couldn't remember.
Julune walked through the marketplace quickly, and had to exercise a great deal of self-restraint. Everywhere she looked she saw another item that she wanted to buy for Obi-Wan—a ripe, juicy fruit, a colorful tunic, an electronic toy. If she wasn't careful she was going to spoil that child absolutely rotten in the space of three days. But he deserved it. No one could tell her otherwise. He deserved every good thing in the universe, far too many of which had been denied him.
And now they had all the time in the universe to make sure that he got them. All of them. Julune would allow nothing else.
She pushed past the row of vendors to the permanent shops along the edge of the square, entering a medical supply depot. The proprietors, Mr. and Mrs. Koly, knew her from her days as a med student, and greeted her cheerfully. They were full of questions at the supplies she brought to the counter, after some thoughtful browsing, and she just grinned back at the elderly couple.
"I have a son. Qui-Gon and I adopted him this morning. When he's feeling up to it, I'll bring him to meet you."
Every word of this short speech filled her with light. She felt that it must be streaming from her fingers and toes and the ends of her hair, dazzling everyone in the shop. But her friends exclaimed in delight and burst out with a hundred more questions, and didn't seem in the least dazzled, to her disappointment.
"His name is Obi-Wan. He's thirteen years old. And he's the sweetest boy in the galaxy. You'll love him." She answered as many questions as she could as Mrs. Koly rang up her purchases and Mr. Koly placed them in a bag, but deliberately side-stepped the ones about why she needed so much antibiotic balm and topical bacta, such a wide variety of medicines, and these soft bandage rolls.
"Most of it's just in case," she hedged, offering a smile. "You know how boys are, always falling down and running into things. I want to be ready. But yes, he has a bit of a fever right now. That's why he's not with me."
"Well, we very much look forward to meeting him, dear," Mrs. Koly said, accepting her credits. "I declare that you're glowing! Motherhood agrees with you. And the little one? Still no signs of morning sickness or fatigue?"
"I've been very lucky, I know. I'm starting to get a bit of a backache in late afternoon, though, and my feet hurt all the time."
Mr. Koly reached under the counter and produced a packet of powder, flashing it briefly where she could see it before placing it in the bag. "Three grams to a liter of warm water. Be sure to soak your feet every evening. You'll be surprised at how much it helps. And get that great big husband of yours to massage your back."
Mrs. Koly had already given back Julune's change, and she refused to add to the bill, saying that it would be much too much trouble to reopen a finished transaction. Julune could only smile and take her purchases, thanking them for the gift, and the advice. Then she was out the door and on her way home, very pleased with the speed of her excursion. Only three hours. That had to be a record.
X
"Obi-Wan, may I look at your back? I need to treat your wounds."
Obi-Wan went absolutely still where he sat on the bed holding a half-empty mug of tea, his feet tucked under him. Slowly he looked up, and she quelled a wince at the fear in his eyes and frozen features. Julune immediately sat facing him, keeping her voice soft.
"It's all right, baby. I know about it already. You don't have to be embarrassed for me. None of it was your fault, and you needn't be afraid."
The boy's eyes flickered to the darkened windows, Qui-Gon standing silent at the end of the bed, his face encouraging. The mug began to tremble in his hand. "I—I know. It's not that. I'm sorry, Julune . . . I just . . ."
"Shh, sweetheart. It's all right." Julune placed her hands around his smaller, shaking ones, holding the tea steady for a moment before drawing away. She had noticed her name alone falling from his lips. She knew it was only a mark of how upset he was, but it still hurt.
She had noticed how the boy seemed to appreciate her light touches to shoulder, face, and hand, but anything more intimate flustered him. Even that long hug the first night had confused and unsettled him. Yet another change, another mystery to add to the list.
"Would you rather Qui-Gon do it?" She scooted herself into the middle of the bed, making room for Qui-Gon next to their son. Obi-Wan seemed to accept contact from his father much more easily, though he still occasionally flinched even from him.
Obi-Wan nodded, his face flushing, head lowering, and set the mug on the nightstand. "I'm sorry, Julune—Mama Julune—I'm so sorry . . ."
"Shh." She reached to take his hand, holding tightly, watching for any sign of distress and ready to let go the moment it appeared. "You don't have to explain. You don't have to say anything."
"I want to, though." Obi-Wan squeezed back on her hand, rubbed the other over his face, and glanced up briefly as Qui-Gon sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
The boy drew a shaky breath and leaned into the man, his eyes drifting shut. He seemed to take himself away, slightly, to a place where he could speak without feeling. "I want you to know. I'm sorry. The guard who beat me most often, my master's favorite . . . she was a woman. She liked to hurt me when no one was looking, too, pinching, slapping, sometimes a quick punch to my stomach. I don't know why she hated me. Those beatings were the second worst, after my master's. Sometimes when it was very, very bad, my master would have to have his house physician see me. She was not gentle. Sometimes the treatments hurt as badly as the beatings. I'm sorry, Julune. She had dark hair and eyes, and long, slender fingers like yours . . .
"I'm sorry, Mama. I know you aren't like them, not at all. But my body won't listen to my head. I feel so out of control, and I hate that, but I can't help it. I'm sorry."
He sighed and fell silent, hiding his face against Qui-Gon's side. Julune trembled, holding his hand so tightly that she began to feel the bones grinding against each other, and instantly let up. She didn't understand how any woman could hurt this boy, especially not so viciously. Darkly, she thought of the blaster in the closet, all the lessons she had had with Qui-Gon at the shooting range, and mentally scheduled another visit.
"Thank you, Obi-Wan," she said quietly. "I know it was hard for you to say that. Thank you very much for telling me."
"I wanted you to know," he said, young voice muffled and cracked. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Baby, you could never hurt me." Conveniently, she forgot what it felt like when he hadn't called her Mama. "You can tell us anything. We are hurt to know what happened to you, yes, it hurts very much, but that isn't you hurting us. That's the people who hurt you."
Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly, squeezing her hand. Julune released a breath in relief, shoulder slumping. "We'll take this slow and easy, all right? Tonight we'll let Qui-Gon take care of you, and you'll know what it ought to feel like. Later I'll do a little more, and a little more, and you'll get used to it. Everything's going to be all right, sweetheart. We're going to make it all right."
Again the slight nod of acquiescence, feeble but there. Qui-Gon pulled the boy into his arms, onto his lap, and Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his father and hid his face against his chest, trembling, waiting. Qui-Gon carefully pulled up the back of the baggy sleep-tunic, folding it over the boy's shoulders, and Julune saw the extent of the damage for the first time.
She shook with fury, but kept her voice soft. "It isn't so bad, Obi-Wan. Just a few of them are infected, and we'll take care of those right now, all right? It must hurt, though."
He nodded against Qui-Gon's chest, but said nothing. Julune handed her husband the antibiotic balm and watched him rub it gently over every centimeter of the boy's tense back, making sure he didn't miss anything. She held the little tub of topical bacta in her hand, mixing in a pain-relieving herb infusion with her fingers. Bacta healed, but it could sting fiercely, especially on open, infected wounds. Hopefully this would take that away.
She held out the little tub, and Qui-Gon smeared the green-tinged bacta liberally over his fingers and carefully touched it to a red, inflamed welt. Instantly Obi-Wan sighed and relaxed against his father, tension draining away.
"That feels nice," he murmured. "Cool and numb."
"Your back has been hurting this whole time, hasn't it?" Julune asked gently. "The med-tabs didn't do anything for you, did they?"
The boy nodded sleepily, and his parents exchanged a horrified glance. They should have noticed, done something earlier. But at least they were on the right path now.
By the time Qui-Gon finished, Obi-Wan was asleep. His breathing was deep and calm, though still slightly labored.
Again they lay on each side of their sleeping son, guarding against the night. Even Obi-Wan's protective ball, which he curled into as soon as they laid him down, seemed more relaxed.
It was progress. Slow, frustrating, painful, but progress.