At the medical center, Obi-Wan tried hard to refrain from breaking into a run to the surgical ward. His boot steps clacked in a fast rhythm as he hurried forward, held back by a sense of decorum as much as anything. He strode up the counter and gently coughed to get the attention of the woman buried deep in datapads, her head resting wearily on her hand and her shoulders slumped.
She looked up, startled and quickly got to her feet. Her badge identified her as an Assistant Healer. She looked harried and tired, and the young Jedi quickly understood that most of the medical personnel had been taken away with the rest of the population. Those who had remained were overworked, anxious and exhausted. Even so, she greeted him courteously enough.
"Naboo is free," he said immediately, offering what good news he could, in case word had not reached the medical center.
"Thank you, I know," she said, and a tired smile broke over her face. "They're bringing back the medical personnel and injured right away. You're a Jedi, right?"
She hadn't seen the lightsaber hanging from his belt; her back had been turned when he had come up to the counter and now it hid his lower body. Was it the braid that had given him away? His style of dress was uncommon on this planet from what he had seen. The simple style was unique to the Jedi, yet not much different from other common styles in the galaxy where simplicity and comfort were valued.
"You're not Naboo, and the man in surgery is a Jedi. I understand there are often two of you working together," she said by way of explanation. "Besides, I took your comm call. Outgoing calls are – were – blocked. I couldn't reply."
Of course. Obi-Wan nodded. "Thank you for sending prompt assistance. I was…worried."
He still was, the healer saw. His worry fought with his fatigue. The Jedi was steady enough on his feet, but his eyes were gray with exhaustion, and she hurried to reassure him.
"Surgery is going well. Thank you, for your help in freeing us."
"I did nothing to free Naboo," he demurred. "The Naboo and the Gungans working together did that. I merely…fought, and I survived."
She noted he didn't even smile at that; perhaps he was even more exhausted than she thought, to be so indifferent to his own fate. Too tired, perhaps too modest, or perhaps just too worried about his companion.
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" she said with a little laugh. The Jedi seemed quite a pleasant young man, well spoken and courteous, not to mention good-looking if she was a few years younger. Bad things shouldn't happen to nice people, but after the Trade Federation took over, she had seen that too many times it had.
To her surprise, the young Jedi just nodded absently. Perhaps he just had more important things on his mind than his own life, she thought.
"Your Jedi Master Jinn is expected out of surgery shortly. He has a very good chance of recovering," she said gently, and was pleased to see a slight smile bloom in his face. "He will be taken down to that room – 504 – when he's out of post-op. You may wait there if you wish."
"Thank you." Obi-Wan forced a tired smile onto his face and turned away. Making a sudden decision, he headed down the corridor, in search of a fresh plant or flowers to place in the room. His face twisted in memory of how Qui-Gon so loved fresh plants at his bedside. He would find something to cheer his master up during his recovery.
He found a deserted gift shop with a nursery, connected to the gardens. He roamed among the green and living plants there. What cut blooms remained in vases were dry and drooping, neglected with the movement of all unnecessary personnel to the prison camps. Only some of the healers and surgeons, and sickest of the patients had been allowed to remain in the medical center.
Obi-Wan began to understand Qui-Gon's fondness for green and living things as he wandered amongst the benches. He had been on a dry desert planet for so long, he had forgotten the life energy contained within plant life.
On Coruscant, at the Temple, the gardens had always been in the background, unobtrusive and rarely protruding into his consciousness. So much of the Temple radiated peace and serenity – the gardens, the burbling fountains and the presence of so many Jedi. The air was almost alive with the Force, for it had been home to the Jedi for thousands of years, and the life force – the Force itself – was strong within its walls.
Suddenly, the young Jedi wanted to be back in the Temple, surrounded by its peace and familiar things. However, he knew a Jedi could find peace and serenity anywhere, when he accepted the Force. It was not time for him to return, so he dismissed his longing.
Here, surrounded by plants, he would search for that serenity; here he could feel closer to his master. He cleared his mind and switched into an awareness of the Living Force and wandered slowly, fingers outstretched and mind reaching for peace.
He found himself coming back to full awareness, as if he had been in a trance, to find he was carefully tending a neglected and all but dead plant, carefully pinching off dead leaves and dripping water into parched soil. The plant greedily sucked life into itself and unfurled with an almost audible snap.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Yes, Qui-Gon, I understand, he thought. This plant, nearly dead, fought for life, small green shoots pushing through brittle and brown leaves, proclaiming: I live still.
This was the plant he would take to Qui-Gon's side. Together, side by side, the plant and Jedi could fight for life and each take as well as give strength to the other.
There was no one to purchase the plant from, and Obi-Wan looked around uncertainly. He did not want to just take the plant without leaving something in return; then nodded.
He would pay for it, but not in currency. Feeling strangely happy, he tended the plants as he had so often watched his master tend plants, gently soaking the plants in water, pinching off dead leaves, adding fertilizer he found in a cabinet.
As he left, he took a look around. He could feel the plants coming alive, and he smiled. He had taken life, but he had also given it back. It wasn't the same, but it was something. The Force had led him here, to find peace.
He carefully carried the small plant, cradling it within two hands as if it was the most precious thing he had ever held within his hands back to the room where his master would be. Where Qui-Gon would live.
He set it on the bedside table, near the light from the window and then sprawled in a chair. At last he could give in to his fatigue and rest. The fight, as well as his internal struggle to release his fear and anger had left him running on little more than will power.
Here in this quiet room, with dappled sunlight lying across his face, he could forget his worries for a while, for the healer had said that surgery was going well. He closed his eyes. He was no more than half asleep and still half awake, unable to forget the sight of Qui-Gon in a crumpled heap on the floor or the Sith falling away from him with eyes stunned with his recognition of his death at the hand of a mere Jedi apprentice, when a droid rolled in.
"Jedi Kenobi? Jedi Master Yoda of the Jedi Temple is trying to reach you. Follow me, please."
Instantly on his feet, Obi-Wan followed the droid down the hall and into the small office indicated. He punched "accept message, hologram" and Yoda flickered into view.
"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan bowed. Face to face with the little master, he felt a flicker of joy within his heart. When he had spoken to the Council before, he had been reporting to them all. Now he was conversing with Yoda himself, and other than the ghostly blue blur, it was like the old master was standing just a few feet away from him, wise old eyes nodding gently at him.
He could almost feel the Jedi's Force presence wrapping around him, comforting him.
"Obi-Wan. Tired you look, sit. Speak to you as an old friend, I wish, our long lost padawan. Welcome you back to the Jedi personally, I do and offer you counsel if need it you do."
The little Jedi master "harrumphed," and cleared his throat. "First, what news of your master have you?"
Obi-Wan felt tears fight for release behind his eyes. Master Yoda had always been kind to him. How he had wished to see him, talk to him again, but not in these circumstances. He carefully sat, clasping his hands loosely in his lap.
"My master is given a good chance of recovering. I cling to that hope."
"Ah. Hope for the best I do. Leave soon for Naboo, the Council does. A complete report will be expected of you then and of Master Jinn if he is able. But of this Sith and his death I wish now to speak. To kill another being - necessary it may be but easy it is not. Know this well, I do. How deal you with it? How feel you?"
"Numb," Obi-Wan admitted unhappily, feeling it was not the answer Yoda expected. "And…yet I am unable to forget seeing his body tumbling down the shaft, cleft in two, Master Yoda. I feel no satisfaction, but I am not sad. Should I not be?"
Yoda was silent, looking at Obi-Wan consideringly. "Each faces it differently. Indifference would be wrong. Numbness? What makes you numb?"
"Too much emotion," Obi-Wan whispered. It was not a proper answer for a Jedi, he thought, but he would be honest and open with Yoda. He could be no other way.
"Fear, anger, sadness…worry. So much worry. I released it, as a Jedi should, and now there is nothing left."
"Ah." The soft exclamation gave little away. Yoda leaned on his stick. "Your battle – tell me of it – not the fight, but your feelings as it progressed."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan gathered his thoughts.
"Confidence. Qui-Gon and I knew we could take him together. Not confidence born of arrogance, but of calm focus and knowledge of our duty. Irritation when I was kicked aside momentarily. Determination to end the battle, and frustration when I thought we had the Sith cornered and he got away. Concentration on saving myself when I was knocked off a catwalk into a potentially deadly fall and relief when I grabbed hold of a catwalk. Desperation when I saw Qui-Gon carry on the fight far from me. Concern when I saw how weary he looked when we were all trapped between separate energy gates."
His master was one of the best swordsmen he had ever seen, strong and smart, but the man who beat impossible odds and won all his battles was tiring in front of his padawan's eyes. Obi-Wan had stared over his master's bent back down the corridor, through the red haze of the energy fields, and seen glee in the Sith's eyes. A ferocious gleam of delight as if he knew he was gaining the upper hand, and delighting in it. An animal, sensing the kill was about to be made: the prey, his master.
Obi-Wan shook himself away from the memory of those eyes, and the feel of his heart thumping in his throat at the time.
"An...anguish when I saw Qui-Gon apparently die while I was still trapped helpless behind an energy gate. Sheer determination and…and rage, when I was free to fight on, avenge my master's death. Relief that I seemed to be holding my own and sudden desperate fear when I knew I was about to die, as I saw my lightsaber vanish into the depths beyond my reach."
"And then?" Yoda quietly prodded him.
"I found peace. I was calm. I knew I could die as a Jedi, accepting my end, or I could connect to the Force and save myself; live as a Jedi. I felt the Force as I never felt it before," Obi-Wan almost sounded awed as he remembered the feeling surge through him, "and I knew how to live. I called Qui-Gon's lightsaber to my hand and catapulted myself over the Sith and swung with all my strength. Our eyes connected as he died…and I watched his body tumble down the shaft I had just escaped from."
"Your feelings?" prompted Yoda.
"I thought I had never known the power of the Force before that moment," Obi-Wan said softly. "I knew then how much I have still to learn."
"Humph. And now numb you feel."
"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't…I should feel regret, but with everything…." Obi-Wan shrugged wearily, unable to finish his sentence.
"Exhausted you are. Understandable that is. Even Jedi tire," and Yoda gave a little chuckle. "If had to kill another being again, how feel you at the thought?"
"I hope I never have to," Obi-Wan said before he could think. He wondered if Yoda saw the soft tremor that ran through him. He hesitated, and then had to ask. "I was angry and scared, Master Yoda, after that Sith nearly killed Qui-Gon. Have I failed my training?"
His eyes were calm and serious, focused on Yoda's and every cell in his body was tuned to the little master's response.
"Fear, rage…even Jedi feel these," was Yoda's response. "It is whether a Jedi puts them aside, or does not, that is important. To take a life while submerged in the Force, wrong it is not. Not when there are no other choices, no options. Failed, young Obi-Wan? No, upheld your training you did, by putting them aside. Controlled them you did. Well, you have done."
Obi-Wan could not hold back a small sigh of relief.
Yoda only scowled. "Rest you should, young Obi-Wan. Rest, I expect you will not as long as Master Qui-Gon is unwell. The Council will see you in a few days." Yoda grumbled deep in his throat, cleared it.
"Happy I am, that Qui-Gon found and freed you. Too long missing you were. Home, you are coming and glad I am. May the Force be with you and your master, young one." Yoda signed off, still scowling and growling away.
The old troll was truly pleased, and Obi-Wan smiled. Speaking to Yoda was almost as good as seeing him in the flesh. With a soft smile still on his face, he returned to the room prepared for Qui-Gon, only to find his master resting there. The attendants were just finishing hanging IV's and attaching leads from Qui-Gon to various monitors.
The healer saw Obi-Wan and smiled at him.
"He's doing pretty well for someone with that kind of wound. Between the cauterizing effect of the weapon and the bacta you immediately applied…well, he's got a pretty good chance of coming out of this okay but he will have a long convalescence. He probably won't wake for several days since we've pumped him full of drugs. You might want to get some rest and clean up, and come back later."
The healer's eyes rested on the bacta patches staining Obi-Wan's tunic and the tiny smear still across his face.
"You're sure you weren't hurt yourself, were you?" he asked, coming closer and dabbing at the smear on Obi-Wan's face and checking his hands.
"Kicked a little, skidded across a floor, nothing serious," Obi-Wan said. "Thanks, doc."
He was beginning to ache a bit, but he was used to that. He had been hurt far worse than this before, and might be again. He would have some bruises to show from the fight, but bruises faded and went away.
He waited until the healer and attendants left, and then pulled up a chair next to Qui-Gon's bedside. Laying a hand on his master's still hand so as to feel the life energy flowing within, he leaned back in his chair and prepared for a long vigil. Before long, his head nodded and he fell asleep.
This time, he did not dream – he saw neither the Sith falling away from him or his master lying as if dead on a cold floor.
He dreamed of the Jedi Temple, and reuniting with his friends and colleagues.