Obi-Wan's voice cut sharp into Qui-Gon's ears, and the Master was fueled faster at its growing panic. Booted feet slipped almost constantly, making him feel like an awkward apprentice, and beings shoved by him so quickly it seemed they were a blur. He had been fighting the crowd since the time the alarm had set off, and now was desperate as it was doubled over. Qui-Gon's height eased his struggle through the mob, and he pressed through swiftly toward the screams coming from his apprentice, audible still to the mans ears despite the racket around him.
Selective hearing, so to speak, had alerted him of Obi-Wan's predicament, like a mother who listens only for her child's cries. He had shut himself off from the boy out of childish emotion, out of anger and loss of control and ignorance; it had been a stupid, un-Jedi like reaction, one Qui-Gon regretted. Despite his frustration at his Padawan, he had not been able to ignore him in his distress. The fear in Obi-Wan was coming to life after being suppressed, forming a deeper rut and a wider sense of terror, implanting itself like a tick under his skin. Fear, as all Jedi knew and even so the maverick, often unruly, Qui-Gon Jinn, was of the dark side.
Qui-Gon reached the entertainment area and held the railing leading to the tables below to avoid being swept away with the throng, quickly flicking his eyes about and scanning each table. His strode away just as fast, spiting water from his lips and wiping such from his brow. The ceiling extinguishers had soaked Qui-Gon's suit to his skin, weighing it upon him annoyingly, but the Master ignored it. He had been through much worse, as had Obi-Wan alike. Why now had the boy become so vulnerable?
When the scream suddenly hushed, Qui-Gon's anxiety threatened to increase. He was reminded of the nightmares Obi-Wan had experienced, the cold sweats and sleepless nights, the ones the Padawan had tried to hide from his Master, and the same ones the Master had known and ignored. It had not been a wise decision to take the boy, Qui-Gon decided. He had thought his apprentice strong enough, but had overestimated him; I had given him the choice, Qui-Gon recalled. He saw the memory of Obi-Wan again before him, in their quarters after dinner just three nights prior, his young face sullen and eyes drawn as the Master spoke to him.
"There will be many people there, Obi-Wan. Hundreds and possibly thousands." Qui-Gon had spoken slowly, not uttering the unsaid words of his apprentices fear but implying such in the tone, "I can imagine a sizeable crowd."
"And?" The question had been a bit sharp, attempting to sound innocent, but Qui-Gon had not been phased. He was very much used to Obi-Wan's way of expressing himself, the subtleties and variations of tone or how the blue eyes would cloud or clear, and had been able to determine the false front instantly. He had also been able to erase it.
"And I trust you, young one, but I can manage on my own if you feel uncomfortable coming."
"No." Had been the swift reply, Obi-Wan raising his eyes that had been staring at his fidgeting feet. The blue eyes were greyed, hinting at an inner warfare, but the gaze had steadied and the telltale voice that made Qui-Gon smile had said, "It won't bother me. I want to help you, Master. Thank you for trusting me."
The boys solemnity had then caused Qui-Gon to chuckle; so intense, so sensible, so much of a contrast to the Master. The words had touched him, still. Yoda had not been senseless after all, introducing the two those few years ago, despite the differences that sometimes assisted them and others caused hindrance. Their differences made them who they were, not as individuals but as a whole, as Master and apprentice. Qui-Gon figured Yoda had known all along.
He had placed a hand atop Obi-Wan's spiky hair and tucked the braid behind the ear there, coaxing a small smile from the Padawan.
"What?" Obi-Wan had asked, sensing the Master's musings. Qui-Gon's smile had softened, "This will be gone soon. I have informed the Council, and they have agreed to allow you to take the trials."
The silence had been momentary, and the boys jaw had dropped.
"Master, I am only fifteen!" The disbelief in Obi-Wan's strained voice was nearly as skeptical as his tense expression, and Qui-Gon had not been able to hold back his laughter. Obi-Wan had joined him moments after, realizing the teasing, laughing along in relief.
So easy the decision had been then, so hasty. The resentment burned deep in Qui-Gon's stomach, remembering then Tahl's words to him after informing her he'd accepted the mission. "Careful, Qui-Gon. You are rushing things. The boy is young. He needs time."
He hadn't given it, and now they would both have to pay for it lost.
Qui-Gon fought back a groan as beings tugged at his arms, pulling him toward the exit, their cries muted in his ears that replayed the sound of Obi-Wan's scream, of which direction he had heard it. Lighting was nonexistent, and the bustling mass of people provided no clarity or sense of direction, thick and tricky like a labyrinth. Where is Obi-Wan when I need him? Qui-Gon questioned desperately, knowing of his Padawan's gift of analytical thinking.
Qui-Gon impatiently pushed forward, his favourite direction, unbuttoning his collar some to allow more air. His cover was useless now, as was the mission compromised. Failure was a heavy burden, one Qui-Gon never wished to bear, but shouldered it then along with regret, regret of decisions made and unmade. If Obi-Wan had not shielded him, the Senator could have been found. If he had not shielded Obi-Wan, the Senator could have been saved. If they had worked cohesively, their task could have been accomplished. But no. "Could haves" were not of the Jedi. Qui-Gon shoved such out of his mind like he shoved his way through the crowd. The will of the Force prevails, he told himself, the words feeling stale inside him. He tore off his hat to relieve some of the frustration in him, his greying tan hair falling over his shoulders and behind as he began to run -
Suddenly, he partially spotted a form on the floor curled close, dressed in navy and motionless but being shoved and trampled mercilessly by the mob. He sensed full then the boys suffering. Because of me. Qui-Gon, his heart wrenching into a knot, went to move when he sighted Senator Dawn just a few feet away, captive to a Rodian male who gripped his arms behind him, holding a blaster to the senator's head.
Qui-Gon had hesitated only split seconds. The decision had not been an easy one.
Qui-Gon pressed through a few more fleeing beings, kneeling down hurriedly to find his apprentices form and took him into his arms carefully, bruising and dirt and blood on his face in a cruel decoration, standing to see Senator Thor-Chio Dawn disappear into the swarm. Soaking wet, mentally and physically exhausted and still torn with his decision of guilt over duty, Qui-Gon left the Crystal Enchantment in haste. It was nothing to him then, just another sleazy nightclub harboring filthy sins and beings, cheap thrills, deadly choices, and bad experiences. He never wished to return.
But unfortunately for Qui-Gon Jinn, that would not be so.