A/N: Oh dear ones, I am so sorry for the delay... The end of August and beginning of September coincide with much more activity in my practice - and so much to correct and prepare for university, because French medics have the weirdest schedules, always ending a year in October (*facepalms*). I spent a ridiculous amount of time behind my computer, none of it in Obi and Qui-Gon's company, and very much resented it - because I missed writing for you terribly.
I hope you are all well, that you are safe and that work or your studies have resumed - probably with a lot of restrictions and adjustments, but we can see it as dealing with it very Jedi-like, and keep positive :).
This chapter has a first part that is can be somewhat "hard" in the sense that it is rougher than I usually write, but I think you'll manage to see the brighter side of it nonetheless. The second one was very interesting to write, because it was as usual very unexpected :). No more babbling now, enjoy I hope and please take care, Meysun.
Storms on Pijal (Stars of the Darkest Night)
A Star Wars Fanfiction by Meysun
Chapter Five : Revenge.
.
But I might be gone a long old time / And it's only that I'm asking / Is there something I can send you to remember me by? / To make your time more easy-passing
.
Pijal, location unknown.
Something was missing, in his head and in the world around him.
Something was missing.
Qui-Gon felt severed, and for the first time in years, he felt Fear and was unable to release it, body fighting helplessly against the bounds restraining him, eyes blinking against the darkness surrounding him.
"My, my, how the mighty have fallen…"
The voice was velvety yet laced with poison, and Qui-Gon strained uselessly against his bonds, trying to make out who was talking to him, where he was and especially where his Padawan was. He could not feel Obi-Wan through their bond, actually he could not feel anything at all besides the aches in his body, the way the steely bonds cut against his wrists and his growing Fear, because what was missing was the Force.
The Force and his Padawan, his boy, his life, his joy.
"How does it feel?", the voice asked, almost gently, and this time Qui-Gon managed to make out a thin, dark silhouette facing him in the shadows of what could only be a prison.
"How does it feel to be reduced to a simple, unsensitive human, Master Qui-Gon Jinn? How does it feel without that beloved Force of yours, how do you fare, my dear friend?"
She – because it was a she – let out a soft laugh and took a step towards him, but her face was still in the shadows. Qui-Gon took a deep breath – and he could only exhale, there was no Force to take his Fear and his dizziness away, there were just shadows and his body, and he was on his own.
"Where is Obi-Wan?", he rasped, realizing only then how thirsty he was. "What did you do to my Padawan?"
The woman laughed, and finally, languidly, she flipped a switch and a meagre flicker sprang from a naked lightbulb, revealing a lovely face with dark lips and blood-red, wavy hair framing it like petals.
"Do you recognise me, dearest? Last time we met, you broke my wrist and I scratched you."
Her thin, almost delicate hand moved towards Qui-Gon's face and he soon felt cold fingers stroking his cheekbone, searching for his beard.
"That hand", she whispered. "I confess it kind of turned me on, but you never were one to play, were you, Qui-Gon? Neither was that stiff prick you used to call a Master, was he now? I'll tell you something, dearest…"
She was close now, close enough for Qui-Gon to inhale her flowery scent, and he – he could not move. His body seemed to be made of stone, it certainly felt as heavy and cold – but he soon felt her, felt her feet as she deliberately stepped on his boots, placing her hand on his right shoulder.
And then she yanked on him hard enough to draw blood from his wrists, and her fingers dug deep into his cheek until her lips pressed against his, until Qui-Gon was forced to endure her kiss even as he squirmed, drawing blood from his useless hands, feeling her teeth sink in his lips and his own body shudder in pain and disgust.
"Roses – do not – wither."
She moved to kiss his neck and Qui-Gon shuddered again.
"What did you do to Obi-Wan?", he rasped, trying to ignore the way her lips felt against his body, invading what was his, making his skin crawl with revulsion.
"Oh, such neglect… And I thought you Jedi were gentlemen…"
She finally let go of his face, her hand moved to his other shoulder instead and soon he felt her hands trace his chest, unlacing his obi, parting the hems of his outer tunic.
"Hmm, what did I do to your little Padawan, Master Jinn? You should know that Rose Cimber doesn't do things. No, I simply let things happen the way they suit me. Your bratty Padawan – a rather skinny one, and those freckles, tss…"
She hissed softly against Qui-Gon, hand curling around his hip, and he suddenly felt sick, because the way she was talking, to imagine her around Obi-Wan, like a cat playing with a mouse…
"He missed his jump. Broke like the little string-puppet you tried to make of him. He's dead, Qui-Gon Jinn. Baby-Wan is gone. Check the Force, if you want, you won't feel him. Oh, but I forget, dearest… You can't."
The surge cursing through him would have astonished even Qui-Gon, but he was past feeling, past noticing anything but the horror of her words – it couldn't be true, he could still feel the soft, fragile skin of Obi-Wan's neck against his palm, could still breathe that unique smell of cleanliness and tea-leaves, still see the boy's clear eyes as he gazed up at him, still hear his soft voice as he teased, apologized, talked…
"Where – is – my - Padawan?", Qui-Gon let out, and somehow he managed to yank his right hand free, not caring for the blood suddenly spilling warm and red against his skin, aiming for her throat.
She caught his hand with ease and a slight wrinkle of her nose, and promptly plunged something in his neck, stepping down from his boots.
"You were ever a brute, Qui-Gon Jinn. I expected no less from you. I should do as you did, leave you there with an injured wrist, but I have orders from Czerka. And so I will tell you what is going to happen to you, Master Jedi. I will wait for that drug to take full effect, and then I will tighten this collar around your neck, so that you will feel the air get a bit tighter and think about your naughtiness. And then I'll gently wrap up your wrist, because I do not want you to bleed to death here. After all, I'm not finished with you, am I…?"
He was fading fast, shock, pain and what could only be a strong anaesthetic cursing through him – there was no Force to call upon, nothing but loss and darkness and…
"Did he… Is he…"
Oh, Obi-Wan. Dear one. Padawan. My boy, my boy, my boy…
He heard a soft, very mournful sound – only a small gasp. And it took him minutes to realise it came from his chest, because his head felt so heavy, suddenly, as heavy as his heart because – because…
He felt hands around his throat, and something clicked open, before closing around his neck once more, digging painfully into his skin. And Qui-Gon let out another small sound, and closed his eyes, feeling the burn of tears for the first time in years.
He paid almost no attention to the woman's gestures, he let her do what she wanted with his body, which was not much. He did not care.
Because, in that small second where what had to be a Force-inhibiting collar had fallen open, the Force had surged through him. And Qui-Gon had felt it, then. The light and warmth of Obi-Wan – of his unique, precious, wonderful Padawan, shining and quivering through their bond like the robin he was.
Alive.
His Padawan was alive.
So he let Rose Cimber think that these were tears of despair. That Qui-Gon Jinn was nothing but a weak, broken shell, numbed by drugs, despair, blood-loss and pain. He made sure to let his tears flow, before darkness would take him, because he could not release them in the Force.
But, even as the clouds invaded his mind, making it impossible to think, Qui-Gon made sure to remember that he was not mourning, that he was not shedding tears for Obi-Wan.
His companions in the darkness would not be grief and anguish, but relief and hope.
Relief and hope, because Rose Cimber was a liar and Obi-Wan alive.
.
.
"Will you manage?"
The sun was throwing bright rays between the pine leaves and Cady was watching Obi-Wan arranging his robe around him, so that his sling could be hidden – and there was warmth along with teasing in her words.
"Not to offend you, but you look a mess."
He had no doubt about it. Rain had poured down on him the past night, but his robe still bore dry copper marks that could not be mistaken for anything but blood, and he would rather not see what his face looked like right now. Still – his head was not as painful, his arm was mending, and he had managed to wrap the Force around his ankle, hopefully speeding up its recovery.
At least, he was not limping anymore.
"I'll manage, Cady. It is not far, and Master Averross is a Jedi.
- Aye, that he is, kid", Jamal replied, helping Obi-Wan with fastening his sling.
He then proceeded to take a closer look at his skull, and Obi-Wan let him, because he could feel Jamal's concern in the Force – and because the Force was good around him.
Safety. Trust. Soothing.
"Still. I put twelve surgical staples in that stubborn head of yours. They will need to get off, kid, but only in ten days. No rubbing. No scrubbing. Not for another rotation."
Obi-Wan winced, because he itched to get rid of the dried blood and sweat, of the dirt and dust. But he nodded, minutely, and Jamal placed a hand on his shoulder.
"There's no fever anymore. You still need to take things slowly, though. I don't know how things are in the city, or in the palace. But no doubt you will find medics there. I'd strongly advise you to go to them.
- Jamal, that's not what we came here for."
And my Master is missing.
His bond was still completely mute, and it made Obi-Wan feel cold, naked, and exposed. But there was no need to voice that, and he was a senior Padawan – almost. He would bear it, and find Qui-Gon, and that was the end of it.
"What will you tell them? At the Palace?"
Cady's voice was sharp. Almost cold. And Obi-Wan turned towards her, fighting the urge to rub his itching skull.
"I… won't tell them anything. Not until they ask. I won't tell them anything that could harm you. I will try to find out what they want. And bear in mind what you do.
- And what do we want, Obi-Wan Kenobi?", Cady asked, dark face proud and unreadable under her hood.
"A Pijal without slavery. Where all citizens are considered equal.
- We want Czerka off our lands. And Princess Fanry as well."
Cady's voice was ruthless, and Obi-Wan gazed up at her, projecting all the calm and understanding he had towards her.
"I do not know if that is achievable, Cady. I think we will all have to let go of something, to bring back balance. Yet what remains to be seen…
- Well, you know how to reach us, now. We won't stop, Obi-Wan. We are quite determined. Fanry steps down, and Czerka leaves. Or Pijal will go on burning."
She shone so crimson in the Force. So bright and scorching. Obi-Wan bowed, lightly, and then he smiled at Jamal.
"Thank you. For everything. Please be careful. Please think… think twice before… before anything. May the Force be with you.
- And with you, little one."
They both soon vanished between the trees once more. But as they turned, Obi-Wan noticed the way Jamal placed his hand on the small of Cady's back. Lightly. So very lovingly.
Satine had stiffened, slightly. And then she had kept talking, smoothly and so very composedly, almost ignoring his hand, but never shaking it away. He had removed it, in the end. And that was when she had reached out, lacing their fingers together.
Obi-Wan blinked, pressing his injured arm tighter against his chest. And then he turned, too, towards the city, towards Master Averross and Princess Fanry – because he needed to find his Master.
He only had a mile to walk, and as he headed towards the capital, Obi-Wan tried to reorganize his thoughts, that had become somewhat jumbled, into objective facts.
They had crashed because someone had shot at them. Meaning that someone was aware of their coming. Given that Master Averross had called for help and that the Jedi Council had made no secrecy of their mission, that someone could be anybody – ranging from Pijali rebels to Czerka Corporation. Master Averross had seemed to imply that Princess Fanry herself was less than happy with them arriving on Pijal. What was worrying Obi-Wan though was the motive of keeping Qui-Gon captive, or worse…
He took a deep breath and released into the Force, arm pressing against his injured ribs.
Master Qui-Gon is alive. The Force would tell me if he was not. Focus.
"Fear. Revenge. Leverage", Obi-Wan muttered as he walked, feeling the softness of damp pine-needles under his booths.
Czerka and Fanry both had motives to fear a Jedi investigation, as it could lead to question their legitimacy and power. There was also a fair possibility of revenge, especially from the Pykes – whom Master Qui-Gon and Master Dooku had helped to undermine and almost neutralize about five years ago.
Feemor, Master Qui-Gon's former Padawan, had paid the price with his life, and Obi-Wan knew it was a subject Qui-Gon was reluctant to brooch – it had led him to distance himself from Dooku for good, and still unsettled him deeply.
His Master was a formidable warrior and had many missions under his belt – retaliation from an entirely different source was also a possibility. But Obi-Wan had felt something familiar in the cruiser attacking them – and had the distinct impression that Pijal, Czerka, the Pykes and Qui-Gon were all connected. His Master was wilful, sometimes hasty, but Qui-Gon was also kind, open-minded and deeply concerned with helping others – his reluctance with going to Pijal had surprised and unsettled Obi-Wan, but perhaps his Master had indeed sensed something threatening them.
Qui-Gon's likes and dislikes ran strong, and his Master tended to rely heavily on the way he read people, while Obi-Wan tried to search for the hidden motives behind their actions, and for the way they affected the Force around them. Sometimes their visions collided, but Qui-Gon was rarely wrong in assessing people – often Obi-Wan's softer, more idealistic views tended to place him in vulnerable, even dangerous situations. His Master had often told him he tended to trust people too much, and believe too much in what they could achieve, rather than read them with the limits and faults they had.
Yet it was Qui-Gon who loved and rejoiced in people, whom people loved and relied upon, while Obi-Wan was…
"Stop trying to excuse them!", Satine had cried out, as they were discussing Mandalore and the more violent currents threatening its stability.
"I don't want to hear that there were traditions, I don't want to hear their point of view, I want you to understand mine, is this so hard to ask?
- Satine, I just meant…
- I know what you meant! You think it beneath you to fail to analyse everybody's perspective, because that would not be the Jedi way, would it now? The truth is, Obi-Wan, you try so hard to understand everybody that in the end, you don't understand anyone, and you strive so much to find out what the most balanced action would be that you don't take any at all!"
That had made him turn from her and go, avoiding her company for the rest of the day. It had been incredibly hard to keep the swirling, unsettling thoughts in his brain from Qui-Gon, while maintaining a calm, level-headed demeanour. In the end, Obi-Wan had been forced to meditate for long hours, releasing his feelings along with silent tears in the Force.
She had apologized, in the end – because Satine was like fire, burning, sometimes scorching, but always trying to warm, and to protect. She was also reflective, and kind-hearted – she had simply handed him some water, and left him alone, waiting for him to be ready to come back.
He had shied away from deeper discussions for some time, after that. He had let Qui-Gon brooch the topics of their conversations, preferring to listen. He was the one making sure their rations kept, that there were enough logs for the fire, that their commlinks were still working – it was not fulfilling, but it was necessary, and it didn't require any commenting.
His Master had picked up on Obi's silence, though. Instead of making him talk, however, Qui-Gon had made sure to devote some time of their days into resuming Obi's training, whenever it was possible. Silence and withdrawal were no options then, and Qui-Gon had been warm and praising, allowing some of Obi's feelings of inadequacy and failure to surf back into the Force.
Qui-Gon had always, always known him better than himself, and Obi-Wan felt his heart clench, hard – because the silence in his bond was almost unbearable. He tried to release his anguish into the Force, though, sending love and reassurance towards his Master – and breathed out, slowly.
"I will find you, Master. I promise."
He walked faster, thoughts racing in his mind. He needed to find Master Averross, but what he had to assert, first of all, was how Master Averross stood towards Princess Fanry – because it remained unclear.
From what Obi-Wan had gathered, Princess Fanry had used her coronation ceremony as an affirmation of her rebellion. She had stabbed the Skykeeper, taking even Master Averross by surprise, and then she had raised her Blackguards and followers, and stormed Czerka's spaceship.
Obi-Wan had watched the hologram recording Master Averross and Qui-Gon's conversation carefully, and he had felt distress, hurt and also a deep sense of loss radiating from his Master's brother-in-lineage.
Qui-Gon however had met this with dislike and wariness, seeing it as a failure to keep level-headed – because Master Averross was still speaking warmly of Princess Fanry.
From what Jamal and Cady had told him, Fanry was still on speaking terms with Master Averross. Meaning that finding him would result into finding her.
"So be it, then", Obi-Wan muttered, finally leaving the forest, watching the capital city stretch out before him.
The city walls reached high, and Obi-Wan could see several control posts, barring the way of the arches leading into the city. He could also see men in black uniform patrolling on the city walls, heavily armed with blasters. The Force was fading slowly around him, becoming dimmer as he left the forest behind, and Obi-Wan could soon smell dust, smoke, along with an overwhelming feeling of tension that awoke his headache.
Czerka's mines and factories were outside the city, and from what he was assessing, Fanry still had control over the capital through her Blackguards. What remained to be seen, though, was how far her control reached over the Pijali themselves.
Obi-Wan scratched his head, absent-mindedly, fingertips ghosting over the surgical staples – they really felt like small rails stretching over his skull. He probably looked appalling, but there was no way to make it better.
He quietly walked out of the trees, making sure to keep his steps slow and as less-threatening as possible, heading towards the nearest arch. It didn't prevent the two sentinels of staring wide-eyed at him, and of pointing their blasters at him – Obi-Wan barely supressed a sigh.
"Good morning, and my sincerest apologies for the state I am in. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn's Jedi Padawan, and Master Rael Averross is expecting me."
The sentinels just stared at him, staying mute for a few seconds, then one of them blinked, and repeated:
"Master Averross is expecting you? Who did you say you are? What are you carrying under that cloak?"
Obi-Wan let out a tired breath, but forced himself to remain calm.
"Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. I carry nothing. My arm is injured. Our plane was attacked, and my Master and I were forced to crash.
- What's that thing around your waist? Some kind of blaster?
- It is my lightsaber. I do not mean to use it, though. Master Averross is expecting me."
He was tired, suddenly, headache pulling at his temples and arm throbbing against his chest. The soldiers were antsy, and their nervousness grated at Obi-Wan's shields, making him realise just how strung out he was.
Force be thanked, one of them finally pulled out his commlink, and after long minutes of criss-crossed conversations, much staring, and no lowering of blasters, Obi-Wan was finally escorted into the city.
It was quiet and empty, broken items littering the streets, doors closed and soldiers patrolling everywhere. Obi-Wan could sense fear, alarm and wariness in every corner, and by the time he reached the palace, he was pale-faced and forced to let out deep breaths into the Force, trying to release those unshielded feelings flowing through him.
He was told to wait, his escort still surveying him warily, but Obi-Wan soon heard quick steps approaching, and was finally met with Qui-Gon's brother-in-lineage.
Master Averross was surprisingly shorter than Qui-Gon, but he felt just as alive, almost overwhelming in the Force, dark hair combed in short spikes above a tanned face, black eyes darting as he took Obi-Wan in.
He was strong in the Force, and his appearance was surprisingly tidy – his lightsaber clipped neatly at his belt, and his robe and tunics clean and fitting. He was a handsome man, features chiselled yet firm – and for a short moment Obi-Wan allowed himself to feel relief, ready to fall back to his role of a Padawan as he bowed.
That sense of respite was short-lived, however, because Master Averross' gaze searched beyond Obi-Wan and fell back on him with unconcealed surprise and alarm.
"Where is Qui-Gon?"
Obi-Wan swallowed – realising only then he had still harboured a childish, completely unrealistic hope of finding his Master at the palace.
"We were attacked, Master Averross… Our plane was shot. Master Qui-Gon and I were forced to jump. We got separated, and I have been unable to locate him in the Force ever since."
Master Averross' eyes widened, and then he frowned at Obi-Wan.
"What? Uh… who did you say you were…?"
Alarm, confusion, and disappointment flooded the Force around him and Obi-Wan realised, quite shocked, that Master Averross wasn't really bothering to shield, feelings radiating straight towards him.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master. Second Padawan of Master Qui-Gon Jinn", he answered, softly, fortifying his own shields, determined to prevent his emotions from adding to the whirlwind he could feel around Averross.
"Oh. And… don't you Padawans have a bond with your Masters? How come you cannot sense him? How come you left his side – when I was a Padawan, first rule was to stick to my Master, not to save my own skin…"
That hurt, and Obi-Wan blinked.
"I… We had to jump. We got separated. I do not feel Master Qui-Gon in the Force, but I know he is not dead. I assume he has been taken captive, and I was hoping you could help me find him.
- And how am I supposed to find him when even you can't sense him?"
Master Averross let out an annoyed huff, exasperation, frustration and worry evident, and whipping. But then, surprisingly, his eyes softened, and his frown cleared.
"Oh. Kid. Jee-, I forgot. You can actually sense me, can you?"
Obi-Wan peered up at him, and Master Averross raked a hand through his hair.
"Well of course you can, you're a Padawan. Jee- I got quite used to feeling somehow… alone in the Force, I guess, let me just…"
He let out a small, joyless huff, and then Obi-Wan felt something being called back, Force still thrumming but blessedly silent between them.
"I bet it feels better, doesn't it?"
Master Averross' smile was not happy either, but there was something oddly hopeful in the way his eyes searched for Obi-Wan – it was quite sad, actually.
"Yes, Master", Obi-Wan murmured. "I apologize for being so late, and for bringing so little news. We discussed the situation on Pijal abundantly with my Master, though, and I promise you can count on my help and abilities, however limited they might be."
Master Averross' eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth, clicked it shut, then opened it again.
"Jee, kid, are you always so formal? How old are you?
- Almost seventeen, Master.
- Well, you need to loosen up", the Jedi Master muttered, placing a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and pulling him towards the palace. "You'll get old soon enough, no need to sound like Windu straight away. Or that bore of… what is he called again? Kadi Mundo… No, Ki-Adi something…"
Obi resisted the urge to squirm away, instead he tried to keep up with Master Averross' quick strides while gazing around him, eyes meeting only closed rooms and black-clad guards.
He almost barrelled into Master Averross when the Jedi pulled to a quick stop, turning to Obi-Wan once more.
"What in the Galaxy happened to your head? And your – your arm, and… What on earth happened to you, kid? Is that blood on your robe?!"
No, it's Bantha poodoo.
The sarcastic thought broke through Obi-Wan's shields and he stiffened, horrified at himself. But Master Averross burst out laughing, not caring for the bewildered looks the Blackguards were giving them, and apparently unaffected by Obi-Wan's rebuke.
"Oh, I knew there was a kid underneath that ragged, serious Padawan. Good one, kid, good one…
- I was… I collided with a pine tree, Master", Obi-Wan answered, cheeks still hot with shame.
He need not have worried, because Master Averross' laughter only increased.
"You what? And who won, you or the tree?"
This time, Obi-Wan did not answer, and Master Averross slowly calmed himself, becoming serious once more.
"Well, you can't see Fanry in that state. She'd be outraged, and we don't want that. You're about my size, even though you're skinny. I have some spare robes and tunics, they'll have to do. Lamia can help you clean up. I'll try to contact the Jedi Council meanwhile."
This made Obi-Wan peer up, and become bold enough to ask:
"I could stay with you, and…
- No, no, no, kid. You clean up. I'll deal with them. How on earth am I supposed to manage this situation with Qui-Gon missing and only a banged-up Padawan to help me along?"
He was pushing Obi-Wan along, and soon made him enter a broad room where a lot of people were either sitting or lying down - it looked like a suite turned into some kind of medical and camping base.
"Lady Lamia? I need you to take care of that young one here, find him clean robes, something fit enough to appear before Princess Fanry. I'll be back in a jiffy, I trust in your abilities."
Master Averross was soon gone, like a whirlwind, leaving Obi-Wan seething, staring at twenty Pijali eyeing him warily, exasperation, worry and frustration threatening for a while to overwhelm him.
"Be welcomed, young Jedi. My name is Lamia, I am Princess Fanry's cousin, and I thank you for coming here."
The voice was soft, very sad, and belonged to a beautiful, dark-haired and round-faced woman. Obi-Wan instantly felt himself deflate and bowed, politely, sending goodwill and compassion through the Force.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service."
She smiled at him, kindly – it did not reach her eyes, but it was genuine, and she did not touch or patronize him. She just led him towards a less crowded area, and soon fetched him clean clothes and a basin of water, along with a washing cloth.
"There. It is not much, but…
- It is perfect. Thank you."
She smiled at him again, and withdrew, silently, leaving Obi-Wan to fuddle clumsily with his cloak and sling. He freed his injured arm, wincing when he tried to stretch his elbow, pain locking his joint, and placed his sling on the ground next to him. He unclipped his lightsaber, and removed his belt and obi, but was left struggling with his tunic, left arm refusing to cooperate.
"Allow me."
Lady Lamia was back, and Obi-Wan gazed up at her, allowing frustration to seep into his features.
"I am sorry.
- Please, do not be. We are all so relieved to see you alive."
For some reason, that made Obi-Wan's throat tighten, making him unable to answer. Lady Lamia helped him remove his outer and inner tunic, and Obi-Wan realised only then how much blood had seeped onto his collar, fabric saturated with a thick, copper crust.
She did not comment, though, and Obi-Wan was grateful for it. He ran the wet sponge on his skin the best he could, and allowed Lady Lamia to help him with his neck and back, watching the water in the basin slowly turn to red.
"Would you fetch us another?", Lady Lamia asked, quietly, handing the basin to a man, and then she helped Obi-Wan into clean clothes.
He was unfastening the bandage around his wrist, finding the joint still blue and swollen, and silently cleaned his hand and fingers.
"This needs Bacta", Lady Lamia observed, quietly.
"But you do not have much", Obi-Wan answered, gazing up at her. "It is alright. I can use the Force. It will heal in a few days."
She did not contradict him and left him as he tended to his legs and more private areas. She came back only when he had slipped into a fresh pair of pants and trousers, carrying two rolls of bandages. And Obi-Wan noticed a tiny girl, clutching the hem of her dress, half hiding behind her.
"This is Kira", Lady Lamia voiced, handing Obi-Wan the bandages. "She is my daughter. She isn't usually that silent."
Obi-Wan peered up, and smiled at the child, only to see it hide even more behind Lamia's dress.
"Thank you", he said, quietly, proceeding to wrap up his wrist, realising quickly he was not yet able to shed the sling – his elbow simply refused to stretch.
His ankle was mending, though, feeling less swollen under his fingers, but it was still blue and painful now that he had stopped bracing it through the Force. Obi-Wan bandaged it deftly, and then he left his palm against it, trying to release some of the throbbing and hurt back into the Force.
It's all blue.
The voice ringing through the Force was childish, and as decisive as children could be. Obi-Wan peered up and smiled at Kira.
"Yes, indeed. It is just a bruise, though. It will disappear."
Kira frowned and hid her face back into her mother's dress, clearly upset. But not as much as her mother, whose features were suddenly ravaged by an odd mixture of sadness and hope.
"Who… did you… did she speak to you, Master Jedi?
- I am no Master", Obi-Wan said, still smiling at the child. "She did not speak, she projected. Most people do, and sometimes we manage to read it through the Force… I am not going to read your mind, though, Kira. It's private. It belongs to you…
- Oh, but…" – Lamia had knelt down, cradling the child against her, and Obi-Wan was surprised and concerned to see tears shining in her eyes. "It is just… She did not speak for days, you see… Ever since…"
A quiet tear fell down her cheek and Kira burrowed even deeper into her dress, small hands moving to cover her ears.
"Can I… can I project too, Padawan Kenobi?
- Obi-Wan, please, my lady… Call me Obi-Wan. Yes. You just need to think, and try to send your thoughts towards me."
Overwhelming sadness instantly flooded the Force, and Obi-Wan realised only then just how much Lady Lamia was holding back.
It had been terrible, Obi-Wan. Ever since Fanry's coronation. Riots in the streets, and in the palace. My husband… my husband was killed when rebels stormed the palace, we don't even know where the shot came from – we don't know if it was a Blackguard or a rebel, he was trying to shield Kira and… He died… He died and she was just next to him… And she had already seen Fanry stab the Skykeeper… She was already so upset, and afraid, and now she is not talking, and I miss her voice, I am so afraid to never hear it again, I am afraid of her holding so much back and never getting over this… How is she supposed to get over losing her father, Obi-Wan…?
He swallowed, hand still clutching his ankle, feeling small and powerless faced with so much pain. But then his eyes fell back on the tiny, dark-haired child, and Obi-Wan realised he had no choice but try to comfort them.
"When I was six years old, I stopped talking for a while too", he whispered, quietly. "It was not for the same reason. I did not lose someone I loved."
His voice cracked – because of Owen. Because of Satine. But it was not the same as Kira losing her father and grieving silently.
"Someone I was supposed to trust and look up to did something very, very scary and painful to me. He squeezed my throat very hard, pretending to teach us how to fight all along, but he did not like me, and I was scared of him. Of what he could do to me, and the way he yelled at me in front of my friends."
Kira's hands slowly slid down from her ears, but she did not turn towards him, still burying her face in her mother's dress. And Obi-Wan went on, quietly, watching Lamia rub soothing circles into her daughter's back.
"One day though he squeezed harder, and my actual Master and another teacher saw him and saved me from him. He went away, and I have not seen him since. For several days afterwards, I stopped talking. It felt like… it felt like there were no words. For the fear. For some things I could not understand. I did not even know why I didn't talk. It just felt… right."
Obi-Wan's fingers stilled on his ankle.
"Now that I am older, though… I think I felt scared, and lonely, and also angry and betrayed. I felt so very small, and I had always thought that elder, bigger people would take care of the smaller ones. Sometimes though, they don't. And sometimes they protect us, but we still lose them. Sometimes silence is our only way to protest. That's why I think we should respect yours, Kira. You are not alone, though. You never will be."
The child turned towards him, then, dark eyes bright with tears and cheeks flushed. She picked up the abandoned sling on the ground and hurled it at his shoulder, small chest heaving, and then she ran away, small feet drumming against the stone floor.
"Please forgive her", Lady Lamia whispered. "She is so very confused. She has not interacted with people that much for days, though… I know she lashed out, but it is the first time she expressed something…
- There is nothing to forgive. I am sorry for her loss. And yours."
She nodded, quietly. And Obi-Wan just sat there, taking those silent people in, rubbing his ankle, feeling exhaustion pull at him now that he was clean and resting. He fell into a light meditation, but it felt mere minutes before Master Averross was standing before him, agitated ripples flowing through the Force.
"I don't know what your relationship with the Jedi Council is, but apparently they think you are enough to assess the situation, right now."
Obi-Wan blinked, Master Averross' irritation like tiny darts on his shields. What he was saying was preposterous, there was no way Obi-Wan was enough…
"So I'll tell you what is going to happen. You are going to follow me, and meet Princess Fanry. And you are going to assess if there's a clean way out of this mess, do you hear me, Padawan Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan blinked again, and then he pulled on his boots, quietly.
Sometimes they don't.
That thought was carefully shielded, this time. Obi-Wan sent love and reassurance through the Force towards Kira, her small, sad face enough to pull him on his feet, ready to face Princess Fanry whose actions had led to such dire consequences.
There was no use in bitterness or feelings of inadequacy, not with Master Averross so out of his depth, clearly unable and unwilling to help him find Qui-Gon – not with the Jedi Council reaffirming their mission's goals.
What Obi-Wan needed was a plan. And as he walked towards the throne room, he devised a very simple one. First, he would meet the Princess, and get an idea of the situation in the capital. Then, he would ask to meet Czerka Corporation. And all along, he would attune himself to the Cosmic Force, searching for the slightest sign of Qui-Gon – because somehow his Master's disappearance was a key-move on Pijal's chessboard.
Obi-Wan pressed his injured arm against his chest, firmly. He was ready for Princess Fanry – most ready indeed.
A/N: ... and I bet you are ready as well. I am so sorry, dear ones - this chapter was so long that there is still no Fanry in it. But it had Satine (finally!) and also Kira who also belongs to me (Lamia doesn't, she's in the real story according to Wookieepedia) and who was supposed to appear in the next chapter. I guess I was still a bit shy of writing Fanry, it's much nicer and probably annoying as hell to build up to the meeting :). Master Averross though is finally there and I bet you have many feelings about him - so sorry if I butchered him, he's probably nothing like that in the book, but I need him that way and it all has a purpose... Thank you for sticking with this story, I promise I'll come back soon with the next chapter. Much love and take care, Meysun.