Part 2
"Mast'a!"
The whimper cut through the black fog in his head, tugging at the back of his mind.
"Mast'a! 'ake up!"
Qui-Gon stirred slightly, the floor under his body grinding strangely beneath his shifting weight as he tried to waken. A lot of sharp rocks were digging into his back-his sluggish senses were kind enough to inform him of that much-and a choking grit filled the air, coating his throat every time he tried to breathe in. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
"Mast'a?" That voice again. Carefully Qui-Gon opened his stinging eyes. Not that he gained much from it. It was dark. Very dark and all around he had the dreaded feeling of an oppressive weight baring down upon him.
What?
Struggling to find the memory that placed him here, Qui-Gon touched a hand to his aching temples and was alarmed when his questing touch came away warm and sticky.
He was bleeding, he realised. His skull felt tender and bruised beneath his touch. Never a good sign.
Fighting against the disorientation, Qui-Gon managed to pull together enough thought to draw an emergency glow stick from his utility belt. Cracking it with unsteady hands he flooded the space around him with an instant light.
A split second and he almost wished he'd left himself in the ignorant darkness.
Oh. Good. Force.
Blinking dark-adjusted eyes against the light he found himself lying in a tight pocket of space, buried and surrounded by countless tons of steel and permacrete. Completely and totally trapped--
A little hiss of pain brought on by the sudden brightness grabbed his attention before a flutter of panic could set in. Squinting his eyes, Qui-Gon peered into the nearest corner. Half hidden in the shadow of a giant steel girder huddled a small boy. He was watching Qui-Gon out of eyes grown large with fear. "Mast'a?" he whimpered.
At the sight of him, Qui-Gon's memory jolted.
He had been headed for the Archives when the Force had screamed warning. Passing by a class of younglings and their teacher, he just had the chance to detect the smell of something strange in the air before he had flung himself sideways into an adjoining room, grabbing one of the children--a boy--who had for some reason stopped to stare at him.
No sooner had he dived from the corridor, when the whole Temple seemed to tremble. The heat of an explosion seared Qui-Gon's back, blasting him forward faster than his own leap could carry him. He landed hard shielding the child with his own body as the world began to come down around them. Then… blackness.
Qui-Gon's shot open. Gas explosion. The smell of it still lingered in his nostrils.
He looked over at the child he had grabbed and fervently hoped that the rest of his class had made it to safety.
The child was trembling as he sat beneath the girder--a thick beam of steel that was probably the only thing preventing the rubble above from collapsing upon them and eagerly snuffing out the last pocket of life remaining in its midst.
It was really only by the grace of the Force that they had survived at all.
Qui-Gon shuddered.
Twisting his mind away from such morbid thoughts, Qui-Gon tried to shift into a sitting position.
Hell fire chewed up his back and his head throbbed unmercifully. Hissing between clenched teeth Qui-Gon just about managed to lean up on one elbow. That would be enough for now he decided, and his body agreed. He turned his attention back to the boy.
"Are you alright, young one?" he asked, stalwartly keeping the pain and worry from his voice. "Are you hurt?"
"N-no," came the small answer.
"Good." Qui-Gon squinted into the shadows. The boy was staring up at the ominous ceiling, the treat of tears glinting in the harsh artificial light. "It dark, Mast'a," Qui-Gon could feel his terror bubbling just beneath the surface. Only the boy's rudimentary training in controlling his fear was keeping him from full blown panic. "Dark. You's sleep. No 'ake up! I's 'lone."
"It's alright," Qui-Gon eased. "I'm with you now." He filled the small space with quiet assurance, soothing the child. "Someone will find us soon enough and then everything will be alright, yes?"
The small boy nodded and the terror of being left alone in the dark with an unconscious Master began to ebb.
"Right." Qui-Gon looked the boy over, and quite unexpectedly a name jumped out at him. "Ben?"
It must have come from somewhere within the child himself, for Qui-Gon had never heard the name before.
The boy looked surprised but hardly displeased. A flicker of distant recognition passed over his face.
"Is that your name?"
The look vanished. "Noooo. My name Ob- Obi-" The child struggled with the syllables then gave up around the grit in his mouth and missing teeth. "Ben, Mast'a. I kinda like dat. Some reason."
"Well, Ben it is then." Qui-Gon agreed. He would have liked to have known the child's real name but 'Ben' was something to be getting on with. Maybe an endearment crooned by a mother when her baby remained safe in her arms…
It certainly seemed to be less long-winded than whatever the boy had tried to pronounce. It would definitely use less oxygen and Qui-Gon surmised that that simple thing was about to become a precious commodity.
Most definitely. Fighting through a sudden wave of dizziness Qui-Gon beckoned with his free hand. "Come here, my little friend. Don't be afraid."
A shift of rubble and the child shuffled over to Qui-Gon's side. His face was plastered in dust and reddish brown hair stuck up in every direction, but his eyes had suddenly become bright with indignation.
"I not little," he told Qui-Gon firmly. "I nearly four."
Qui-Gon couldn't keep himself from chuckling. "That you are, Ben," he said.
But the boy wasn't listening anymore. Concern replaced the indignation in his eyes as he reached out a tiny hand to touch Qui-Gon's temple. "Mast'a, you hurt!" A heavy little frown creased between his brows, fear beginning to take hold of him again.
Qui-Gon lifted a hand weighing twice as much as usual and gently squeezed the boy's searching fingers. "I'll be fine, Ben," he said. "Now, what would you and your clan be doing this afternoon if you weren't here with me?"
Ben stared apprehensively at the gash on Qui-Gon's head for a second longer before answering. "It story day. Mast'a Allen was goin' to read us stories." The child suddenly beamed, distracted as Qui-Gon had hoped. "I like stories. Today my fav'ite day."
Qui-Gon smiled at him, eyes crinkling. "Well then, who am I to break with creche routine? Would you like me to tell you a story, Ben?"
The smile that answered would have lit the Dark Side itself. "Yes!" Then the boy seemed to remember that he was addressing a Master and controlled his enthusiasm somewhat. "Yes please, Mast'a."
Qui-Gon laughed at the suddenly solemn face. He found himself warming more to this child with each passing minute. Gently he ruffled the short auburn hair and still smiling said. "Very well then, Ben, I shall tell you a story."
And so Qui-Gon began.
Although not a man of many words, he could tell tales with the best of them and very soon held his audience of one spellbound, effortlessly winding together threads of traditional storytelling with life experiences of his own -- adding just the right touch of embellishment here and there, of course.
As the tale continued, Qui-Gon grew pleased with how his distraction was working. Ben had completely forgotten that the Master he was sitting with under a great pile of rubble was injured. Qui-Gon only wished it was as easy to distract himself. The waves of dizziness were getting worse and he was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. His eyelids felt like lead and somewhere in the middle of his story he had to stop to collect himself.
"You stopped at the good bit!" Ben's protest pulled him back. The boy was completely unaware of the reason behind Qui-Gon's pause, for which the Master was eternally grateful.
Apologising for his atrocious breach of etiquette, Qui-Gon used the Force to push away the blackness that was pulling at him and valiantly continued with his masterpiece.
When it was finally finished Ben gave a theatric sigh. "That was good. Even betta than Mast'a Allen!"
Qui-Gon laughed gently. "I'm honoured," he said, then lowered his voice. "But don't ever tell him that, Ben. It might hurt his feelings. It'll have to be our little secret."
Ben grinned with delight and leaned his head close whispering in the same conspiring tone. "No worry, Mast'a. I not tell."
"Thank you, my young friend."
"'Nother! 'Nother!" Ben pleaded.
Qui-Gon drew a long silent breath. It was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but it seemed to be the only thing to keep Ben distracted from the serious situation they were in - and the only thing to keep himself awake. Slowly Qui-Gon began to wrack his aching brains for another tale to tell.
He was just weaving together the final threads when suddenly there came the most terrifying sound he had ever heard in his life - the sound of rock shifting harshly against rock.
Qui-Gon felt Ben stiffen even as his own breath lodged in his throat. A vision of the rocky ceiling collapsing down upon them strobed terribly through his mind.
But nothing moved. Even as their wide eyes stared anxiously, the ceiling remained in place.
Relaxing slightly, Qui-Gon strained his ears, hope quickly replacing the fear within him. If the roof wasn't collapsing, then… There! Voices. People were moving about up there, sifting through the ruins.
He turned to the anxious young boy at his side. "It's alright, Ben. They're are here for us. We'll be out of here in no time."
The child's face brightened. "Really. I go home to Garen and everyone?"
Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly. "Yes, Ben."
The boy fairly beamed with delight and looked up at the heavy ceiling with renewed eagerness.
It was not long before a voice called out. "Is there anyone down there?!" The call was accompanied by a desperate probe of the Force.
Qui-Gon found quite suddenly that he had never been so glad to hear Mace Windu's voice. Clearing his throat, he called back. "Yes, but I'm not sure how far down."
There came a noise like a disbelieving snort. "Qui-Gon Jinn? Why is it wherever there's trouble you'll be in the thick of it! Are you hurt?"
Qui-Gon glanced at Ben before saying slowly: "Yes. I have a head injury and I'm starting to find it… hard to remain conscious. But there is also a young initiate down here with me, though he is uninjured as far as I can tell."
Somewhere Qui-Gon thought he heard a cry of relief.
"Master Allen was very pleased to hear that, Qui-Gon," Mace said. "Just hang on now. We'll be as fast as we can."
The disembodied voice fell silent and the sound of shifting rubble returned with new vigour.
Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the boy sitting next to him. "I think Master Allen is waiting to take you home, my young friend. You'll be able to tell him a story of your own now."
"Yes," the child's lips lifted slightly, but the gesture was only half-hearted. "You not betta, Mast'a."
"I will be, Ben," Qui-Gon assured. "I--"
He stopped as the giant girder above them gave a worrying tremor. Dust rained down upon their upturned faces as the rocks began to shift.
"Mast'a?" Ben's voice shook uncertainly as he shrugged closer to Qui-Gon.
"Stay calm, young one. It's--"
But the rest of his words were cut off as Force screamed across their senses. The girder groaned like a wounded animal, several rocks tearing themselves loose from the ceiling. Qui-Gon grabbed Ben and shielded the boy's body beneath his own as the rubble crashed towards them. One large rock struck his shoulder and Qui-Gon couldn't suppress a yelp of pain.
"Mace, stop!!" he cried. That girder supported everything. If it was moved-- "Stop now!!"
Too late. The great bar of steel buckled and rolled and the whole terrible world began to shift. Shouts and cries of dismay rang out before they too were drowned out in the sudden uproar.
Filled with desperation, Qui-Gon clawed at the Force, pushing it back at the collapsing ceiling with all his might. But he knew before he started that he did not have the strength. His injury had drained him too badly.
No! Despair tore through him like a poisonous blade. He couldn't do it!
Suddenly there was a presence in his mind. He did not know where it came from but it was somehow familiar, almost as if it had been there all along and had only now made itself known. Then with a bolt of certainty, he understood.
Ben? But how--
Qui-Gon had no time to think. Ben had seen what Qui-Gon was trying to do and was now throwing all of his strength at the deadly boulders. Bringing all of his rudimentary training to bear.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Training blocks were one thing. The infant could not possibly stop this. It was a last valiant attempt but it was far too late. Qui-Gon held the boy's effort strung body beneath him and waited for the inevitable to happen--
--but death never came.
The sound of falling rocks slowly petered out until they ceased altogether. At the last there came a great grinding of stone then… silence. Just the sound of Qui-Gon's own ragged breathing and the pounding of his trembling heart.
Cautiously the Jedi Master opened one eyelid, then the other. Mouth slightly agape, Qui-Gon stared up at the ceiling, now a mere meter from his face. The great girder lay useless beside them but the rocks above were once more still and solid, and most importantly of all: stable.
He could have sworn he heard Yoda's voice cackling at him in that moment. "Training blocks, ha!" it said. "Size matters not, teach you that eventually, I will!"
Stunned, Qui-Gon looked down through the swirling dust at the boy beside him. The already pale face was as white as a sheet.
"Qui-Gon! Qui-Gon!" Mace's voice shouted through the silence, as panicked as Qui-Gon had ever heard it. "Answer me, damn it! Qui-Gon!"
Qui-Gon somehow managed to find his voice. "I'm still here, Mace,"
He could sense the disbelief from above. "How on--?! The whole thing caved in!"
"I'll tell you later," Qui-Gon said in a calm tone that he knew would infuriate the other Master. "Just get us out as quickly as you can. But be more careful this time, please. I think I've exhausted one small miracle for today."
Without any further explanation Qui-Gon returned his attention to said miracle. "Ben? Are you alright?"
"We safe now, Mast'a?"
"Yes we are, Ben, thanks to you. You've saved us."
The child smiled and blinked sleepily up at Qui-Gon's face. "Jus' like hero i' story?"
Qui-Gon smiled. "Yes, Ben. Just like him."
The boy beamed then yawned widely. "I tired, Mast'a."
"I should think so. Go to sleep, young one, you've earned it."
The boy needed no more prompting. His eyes drifted shut and he curled closer to Qui-Gon, seeking much needed warmth from the Master's body.
Without thought Qui-Gon closed his arms around the child and was surprised when he was overcome by an overwhelming sense of familiarity and… rightness.
Mystified Qui-Gon wondered again at how Ben had managed to link with him, to see what he had been trying to do with the Force and emulate it. Such a feat usually required a strong bond between a full Master and his Padawan. Qui-Gon looked down at the boy. He didn't even know the child's real name and Ben did not know his, Qui-Gon realised suddenly.
A sleepy voice cut though his musings. "Know who you are."
Startled, Qui-Gon asked. "Who am I, Ben?"
A slight knowing smile touched the small lips. "You my Mast'a."
Qui-Gon felt his breath catch. The tall Jedi stared but Ben said no more.
My Master.
Could it be possible? Whatever would Xanatos say?
Ben shivered slightly and Qui-Gon tightened his hold. Setting his questions aside, he simply let himself marvel at the tiny form next to him, for there was no doubt in his mind that here in his arms lay the makings of an extraordinary Jedi.
A Jedi to whom he owed his very existence -- with or without his front teeth.
"Rest, Ben," he said above the sounds of their rescue. "I'll still be here when you wake up."
Impossibly Ben replied, /Know./
Far beyond surprise Qui-Gon simply smiled and let him rest against his heart.
For one so small
You seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
Keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
Can't be broken
I will be here
Don't you cry