Inhaling deeply, Qui-Gon knocked on the door.

No response.

"Obi-Wan?"

Still nothing.

"Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to pick the lock again?"

Silence.

The Jedi Master sighed. "Picking the lock it is, then."

It took him longer than he'd like to admit, but then again, the war hadn't made much time for honing one's lock-picking skills.

The familiar room was dark when he entered and it seemed like just yesterday that he and Obi-Wan had moved into the quarters for the first time.

But that was years ago and Anakin was the current co-occupant of the living space. Honestly, the boy needs to move his own Padawan in and Obi-Wan out. The war also hadn't left much time for adjustments either and Qui-Gon suspected Ahsoka enjoyed bunking over on the living room couch, where she could be in close proximity to her Master and Obi-Wan.

As he surveyed the forgotten sabacc game lying on the table, Qui-Gon was reminded exactly why he was thankful to have his own quarters.

The smell of strong Alderaanian tea brushed against his nostrils, tugging at his lips. Obi-Wan always kept a jar of Qui-Gon's favorite tea leaves on hand for whenever the elder Master paid a visit.

Qui-Gon frowned. He also only drinks my tea when he's troubled. And the sheer strength of the aroma spoke volumes.

"Obi-Wan?"

No reply, but then again, Qui-Gon hadn't really been expecting one.

In the end, it was the darkness of the room that gave his Padawan away as it led Qui-Gon to the thin sliver of light streaming from the 'fresher.

And there stood Obi-Wan, hunched over the sink, leaning against it as if the fixture was the only thing holding him upright. For the third time that day, Qui-Gon was forced to look upon the angry burns marring his Padawan's dirt-stained skin. Only, this time, it was the collar-shaped mark hugging Obi-Wan's neck that caught his attention.

Qui-Gon's heart skipped a beat.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to break into someone's room?" Obi-Wan's voice was hoarse and dull. "Especially one that was clearly locked."

"Well," Qui-Gon said, not taking his eyes off the man in the mirror for a second, "I once lived here, too."

Obi-Wan made no reply, he merely continued to glare at his reflection. For his part, Qui-Gon began to mull over the best way to proceed.

"Anakin told me what happened," he tried, startling Obi-Wan, who seemed to have forgotten he was even standing there.

"His point of view, at least."

"And now I'm here to listen to yours, if you'd like."

A beat.

"I told you…" Obi-Wan's voice started to quiver. "It's in the mission report."

Qui-Gon raised a brow. "Is it, truly?"

"Yes."

"So," he said, taking a step forward and keeping his tone calm, "if I read it, I'll learn how you got those burns on your neck?"

Silence.

"Or perhaps I'll discover exactly who gave you all those bruises and cuts?"

A slight wince.

"Or why you refuse to see a healer? But I don't suppose any of that will be in there, will it?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask you if you were fine. I asked what happened."

"Ask Rex."

"I'm asking you."

Then, something in Obi-Wan's eyes snapped.

"You want to know what happened?" Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan's bruised knuckles whitened around the edge of the sink. "The moment I stepped off the transport, he killed seven Togrutans just to 'get my attention.' After that, anytime I tried to help someone—anyone—a colonist would be beaten nearly to death or murdered right before my eyes. All because of me." He was trembling visibly now and Qui-Gon took another step closer. "I can still hear their screams… I don't think I'll ever be able to get them out of my head. So many lives were lost simply because I was there. Because I'm a Jedi. Somehow, he knew to play off my need to help others… to… t-to…"

When Obi-Wan's sentence died, Qui-Gon ventured to speak once more. "Who, Obi-Wan?"

Inhaling sharply, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. "Keeper Agruss. He murdered so many of them… so needlessly. He let his guards run rampant and prey upon the helpless colonist while he just sat there in that blasted chair and laughed. It was all so needless… He put so much blood on my hands… Gallons and gallons of—" He choked back a sob. "How can I… Why didn't I… How will I ever…?"

"Obi-Wan, none of this is your fault."

"It's easy for you to make such a claim," Obi-Wan said with a bitter laugh. "You weren't there."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Padawan." At the mention of his old title, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes tighter. "But the colonists are fine now. They're going to be all right. Believe me, they will recover—"

A sudden crash pierced the air as Obi-Wan's fist collided with the mirror, scattering thin shards of glass across the room.

"Not the dead ones, Qui-Gon!" Then, he spun around, his eyes blazing. "Can you honestly tell that to the mothers and fathers who lost their children? The husbands who lost their wives, and the children, their parents? Can you say that to the faces of brothers who will never again see their sisters? Who lost everything because of me?" Qui-Gon's concern heightened as he watched his Padawan sway, something Obi-Wan himself didn't seem to notice. "Because I was foolish enough to get myself captured? Reckless enough to…" He blinked hard. "... To even put Ahsoka and Anakin in such positions in the… the first… place. Because… because I… I… Oh, Master…"

Qui-Gon jerked forward, his sole mission being to catch his Padawan before he bashed his skull on the sink. "Obi-Wan!"

The moment he held Obi-Wan securely in his arms was the moment he allowed himself to breathe again. The younger Jedi's eyes saw only worlds and memories that were far away, though they gazed blankly up at Qui-Gon through flickering lids.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," he sighed, then lifted his beaten Padawan and carried him into his room. So much for talking it out.

Obi-Wan's bed was neatly made and looked as if no one had occupied it for some time. How long has he been on the field without proper rest?

The bruises under Obi-Wan's eyes faded into the shadows as Qui-Gon lit a small lamp fixed on the wall at his bedside. After he'd gently laid his Padawan down, he went to go fetch the medkit he knew Obi-Wan kept in a drawer in the kitchen, hoping it was still well stocked.

Obi-Wan, fully coherent by the time he returned, was attempting to push himself up. With a firm but gentle hand, Qui-Gon settled him back down against the pillow.

"There will be none of that," he soothed as he opened the kit and withdrew a batch patch. "Now, be still."

"'M fine…"

"Of course, you are." Carefully, Qui-Gon applied the healing gell to Obi-Wan's wrists and neck.

And that was about as far as he got before Obi-Wan jerked away from him.

"That's enough… I'm fine… I-I'll be fine."

"Be still, I only need to—"

Obi-Wan struggled to sit up again. "I don't need batca, I need rest. That's all—"

"Still, Obi-Wan."

At Qui-Gon's stern command, Obi-Wan gingerly lowered himself back onto the pillow.

"That's better. Now," he forced a small smile, a stark contrast to his anguished soul, "I'm going to remove your tunic. Tell me if anything starts to hurt—"

Obi-Wan's fingers locked around his wrist in an instant, preventing his own fingers from even coming close to the deceptively clean clothing. Qui-Gon found himself briefly wondering if his Padawan had enlisted help in changing his robes during their flight home or if he had struggled through it on his own. His heart clenched as he realized it was most definitely the latter.

He fixed the young Master with a look. "Unless you've already tended to the wounds I can't see—the ones that cause you to wince when you walk," he added as Obi-Wan tried to protest, "I'm afraid it's me or one of the healers."

"I'll tend to it myself later," Obi-Wan replied, his lips barely moving under the fatigue.

"I could summon Master Che right now." The threat was lightly made, but Obi-Wan's frown deepened nonetheless. "I'm certain she would have a few choice words for you, considering it's taken you this long to receive proper medical care…"

When it seemed as if Obi-Wan was relenting, Qui-Gon reached out once more, only to be met with the familiar grip of Obi-Wan's palms clamping around his wrists.

"Don't."

Trying to keep his exasperation at bay, Qui-Gon stilled. "Why not? Obi-Wan, you're being ridiculous. I've tended far worse injuries of yours than this, I'm sure."

"There's never been anything like this," Obi-Wan replied softly.

"Obi-Wan…"

"… Please…"

With a sigh, Qui-Gon drew back. "All right. We'll see to it later, then."

"I'll see to it."

"Yes, all right, you will, if that's how you want it."

"It is."

Qui-Gon nodded, an idea forming in his mind. "If you won't let me help you, at least allow me to check for a fever."

"Fever?" Obi-Wan looked puzzled, but made no move to stop Qui-Gon's hand as he placed gently atop Obi-Wan's forehead. "There shouldn't be any fever…"

"Infection is a tricky thing," Qui-Gon answered with a smile, and already, Obi-Wan's eyelids began to flutter. "And you've let your wounds go untreated for far too long."

"Wait…" Obi-Wan croaked, realizing what his Master was doing. "Wait… You… You tricked me!"

Qui-Gon continued to ease the Force-suggestion of sleep into his Padawan's tormented mind. "And you fell for it, I'm afraid. Again."

Obi-Wan made feeble protests, most of which were inaudible, until his lids finally became too heavy to keep open. "That… That wasn't… fair…"

"You're the one not being fair," Qui-Gon replied as he watched him drift off into what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep. "You're not being fair to yourself, my young Padawan. Just be glad I have enough self-preservation for the two of us."

Soon, Obi-Wan's breathing evened out and Qui-Gon let out a sigh of relief.

"Now," he muttered to himself, "let's see about those wounds…"

So, I'm thinking of making a short series where I insert Qui-Gon into pivotal moments in the Clone Wars. If I do this, which episodes would you like to see with Qui-Gon? :)