Chapter Nine

Someone stirring in his cell, probably retrieving his food tray awoke Obi-Wan later that morning and he forced his eyes open slowly, only to open them wide and twist over on his bed in haste, cursing himself for getting his hopes up.

Since when did he care to see her? She was annoying as hell although she wasn't too bad to look at.

The young man frowned with distaste when, instead of the beautiful young woman he had expected to see outside his cell took the form of a tall, lean Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon didn't miss the transformation of Obi-Wan's features as he carefully approached the bed, keeping a few feet's distance away when he stopped.

"What? You didn't get a good enough beating the first time? Back for more?"

The words were just as bitter as they had been before and the older man was pained to hear them.

"I was just wondering if you were comfortable and if you needed anything."

"What do you care?"

An icy cold stare glared up at him and Qui-Gon sighed underneath the weight of it.

"You need another injection. They only last for forty-eight hours."

Setting the tray down upon the end of the elevated platform upon which Obi-Wan sat, Qui-Gon reached into his robes and withdrew the hypospray he had brought with him. He eyed his former apprentice carefully as Obi-Wan seemed to be measuring up the situation, or formulating a plan of some sort.

"I can administer it or you can. Just be aware that if you choose to attack me, this time, I will defend myself."

A cynical huff escaped the young man's nose as he grabbed the hypospray from Qui-Gon's hand and applied it to his own neck. The dosage entered his body with a hiss and then he flung the useless syringe down upon the cot.

"If we're done now, I'd like to go back to sleep."

"You've been doing that a lot lately." Qui-Gon noted, picking up the tray and the syringe.

"I'm just counting the moments."

"Until?"

"Until one of us is dead. Preferably you, but probably me." A cynical chuckle escaped Obi-Wan while Qui-Gon frowned.

"It doesn't have to be that way, you know."

"Yes it does." Another piercing gaze struck the older man, leveling, and full of hatred. "You made sure of that."

"Obi-Wan, I thought that you…"

"Get out."

"They told me that you were de…"

His posture straightened, fists clenched, and fury sparked behind those cold gray eyes. "Get the hell out!"

Dejected, Qui-Gon left the cell, forcing himself to come to terms with the fact that saving Obi-Wan may not be possible after all. Drawing him away from the Dark Side was difficult enough, but not it was obvious that there was a much deeper and more difficult issue to deal with.

The damaged relationship between them. Obi-Wan hated him, as he had every right to, and Qui-Gon was worried it was that emotion that was going to end up destroying the boy after all.

For the second time today, Obi-Wan was disappointed. Hours had passed, during which he had slept and done some mild calisthenics just to stay limber, when he heard footsteps approaching the cell. The pace of his heart had very little to do with his previous exercise, and he knew it. Was bothered by it. Almost as much as he was bothered by the fact that it was the Head of Security who brought him dinner that evening.

The dark-skin man glared at him, drew his blaster, and then deactivated the energy gate. Obi-Wan stood toward the back of the small room with no intention of fighting, almost amused at the man's nervousness.

As quickly as he had entered, Panaka set the tray down on the floor and exited again, maintaining eye contact with the prisoner at all times.

Obi-Wan chuckled at the reaction and then crossed the cell, a frown replacing his sarcastic grin. She had lied. She said she would be coming to see him later and she obviously wasn't going to.

However, he wasn't going to let his disappointment ruin his appetite and Obi-Wan lifted the tray, pulling the lid off while he balanced it on one hand, a genuine smile spreading across his face when he looked at the contents.

A rather dry piece of nerf steak lay next to some overcooked vegetables, but what had caught his attention and warmed a very small corner of his bitter heart was the fact that a note lay across his favorite dessert -- the only thing he had eaten from his breakfast tray that morning. There wasn't just one muja tart there for this meal, but three.

As he popped one into his mouth, Obi-Wan set the tray down upon the cot and picked up the note. She had lovely, scripted handwriting as expected.

Obi-Wan, I am sorry I was unable to deliver your meal myself, but duty has kept me rather busy today. I will come see you as soon as I possibly can. Rest well. Padmé