Brink

By: Syntyche

Three: A Bad Feeling That Just Won't Go Away

"I hate to complain," Obi-Wan Kenobi announced without preamble as he slogged along in viscous muck nearly up to his knees.

Each plodding step made a schhhhhlip!-ing sound as the Knight pulled his muddy boots forward with more effort than he wanted to expend on this particular task. "Which you know means I intend to anyway," he continued pointedly, pausing for dramatic effect: "But this was a really stupid idea."

Obi-Wan flicked his slim fingers past his face to swat impatiently at the fat, buzzing insects that evidently had nothing better to eat than succulent young Jedi: piece by tiny, agonizing piece. He hadn't been expecting a vacation, true, but if he'd have known they would be struggling through desolately swampy forests that the already hesitant sun couldn't even begin to penetrate, he'd have given more thought than to just giving in to Qui-Gon's wheedling that he come along. Etruria certainly wouldn't be listed in any pleasure brochures anytime soon; if anything, their travel through the grey, claustrophobic swath on their map marked 'Sylvania' was just creepy.

And eerily quiet. No sounds other than their own reached their ears; no animal noises, no breeze rustling the leaves overhead. Nothing stirred, though Obi-Wan was uneasily certain that faints wisps of white were dancing into the edges of his vision - but when he turned his head, there was nothing other than swarming bugs and unmoving trees.

"Well, complaining is something you have a talent for, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon Jinn threw a longsuffering glance over his shoulder at the young man trudging along behind him, Anakin sandwiched protectively between them. "Elevated it to an art form, really," he added thoughtfully, then snarled in disgust when his unbound hair - he'd lost his hair tie to a mass of heartless brambles somewhere back - flopped into his eyes. He pushed it aside roughly and continued forging his way through the dense, muddy underbrush.

Obi-Wan shrugged noncommittally - or tried to. The thick sludge clinging tenaciously to his robe weighted down his normally fluid movements. "I wouldn't call it a talent exactly, Qui-Gon. More like a knack."

Despite himself, Qui-Gon smiled. "Ah. My mistake, little one."

"Are you making short jokes?" Obi-Wan demanded suspiciously, reaching out to swipe a large sleeve through the air near Anakin's head to scatter the congregating mass of buzzing pests flitting there. Anakin wearily lifted his drooping head and tossed him a grateful glance, and Obi-Wan instinctively closed the gap between them to squeeze Anakin's small shoulder encouragingly, knowing that the child still wasn't used to any of this. The constant training and travel, and especially the relentless pace set by the Council that Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was pushing both himself and Anakin to follow, because his old Master was - whether he would admit it or no - deeply concerned that the Council members still watched them ruthlessly, just waiting for the chance to prove that Anakin wasn't the Chosen One.

Another legacy from Naboo they were struggling to overcome.

"Not at all," Qui-Gon was responding easily, and Obi-Wan brought his attention back to his old master, trying to brush aside the sadness that persisted in clinging to him as he thought about how they all had changed; despite his wishing that Qui-Gon would just let it go, even Obi-Wan himself still found he was continually thinking back to that horrible, horrible day.

"Just remembering when you were small," Qui-Gon added, "and I used to change your little - "

"All right, all right," Obi-Wan interrupted wryly, forcing a laugh to chase away his grim thoughts. "You win. Please try not to make me look bad in front of Anakin." He smiled again at the exhausted boy, wishing he could bolster Anakin's spirits but also knowing the child may as well grow accustomed to the fact that things were never as easy as they were supposed to be. At least, not where his new master was concerned. Anakin smiled back at him.

"Why?" Qui-Gon questioned teasingly. "Padawan envy?"

Obi-Wan shook his head warningly. "Don't make me wish I had my old, grumpy master back; you're treading on thin ice here, Qui-Gon."

Ahead of him, Obi-Wan just caught Anakin's small, heaved sigh. "Are we there yet?" Qui-Gon's Padawan asked unhappily.

Qui-Gon glanced ahead. No sign of clearing penetrated the overgrowth ahead and he had to resist the urge to check their map. He was fairly certain they were going the right way and Obi-Wan would only rib him if he pulled the map out again. "No."

"Why can't we just camp here then?" Anakin wanted to know.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged uneasy glances. Something about this wood wasn't right, they both felt it.

"No," Qui-Gon said firmly, "it shouldn't be too much longer. It isn't safe to camp in the woods at night."

"Why did we have to leave the ship so far back then?" was the next question, which Obi-Wan fielded.

"Atmospheric distortions," he explained. "Too much instability the closer we get to the warpstone deposits."

"Well, why do we need warpstone?" Anakin persisted.

Another shared glance between the two men. Because with the possible resurgence of the Sith we can't afford not to check the reports. The ability to block the Light isn't something that should fall into the hands of those who would seek to destroy us.

Qui-Gon finally said, "Did you read the mission briefing I gave you on the ship?"

"No," Anakin shrugged. "I was going to, but I wanted to practice with my lightsaber instead." It was a statement that Obi-Wan at his age would have remorsefully uttered with guilt weighing every word; to Anakin, it was simply a fact.

Obi-Wan waited, curiously, to see how his old Master would respond; such blatant disregard for Qui-Gon's instructions would have netted him either extra research or at the very least a lengthy I'm-very-disappointed-in-you-Obi-Wan lecture.

"Anakin, while your lightsaber practice is important," Qui-Gon eventually conceded, in his Teaching tone, "when I ask you to do something, I expect you to do it. Part of a Padawan's responsibilities is to be knowledgeable about our assignments so we're ready to serve in any way we can."

"Yes, Qui-Gon," Anakin muttered unrepentantly, "I'm sorry." He waited a heartbeat. "Are we there now?"

"No." Qui-Gon forced a cheerful smile, his good humor sliding away like the mud underneath his caked boots, though he knew Anakin was only asking because he was restless. "But it shouldn't be much longer."

"But I'm bored," Anakin protested, swatting angrily at the relentless bugs, his pent-up frustration bubbling to the surface. "I thought being a Jedi was exciting but we never do anything exciting." The boy sounded close to tears as he proclaimed, "I thought we were gonna have a fun trip, Qui-Gon, just you and me, but, no, it's you and me and Obi-Wan looking for stupid rocks!"

Qui-Gon shot Obi-Wan a glance, this one more perturbed than the last, and though they had moved beyond the close bond of Master and Padawan, Qui-Gon still heard Obi-Wan's sigh in his mind, heard the quiet, this is why the Council has age restrictions, Qui-Gon - discipline.

There are no age restrictions for the Chosen One, Qui-Gon tossed back, more harshly than he'd intended - on edge, perhaps, from the sudden flaring of jealousy Anakin hadn't hidden. Subdued, Obi-Wan settled into a chastised silence, leaving an unwelcome and still new-to-him quiet in Qui-Gon's mind. Perhaps he hadn't realized how much their bond had been a part of his everyday existence.

"I know this isn't what you expected, Anakin," Qui-Gon tried patiently, "and it's not at all what I was hoping for, either, but Obi-Wan and I worked very hard to get the information about where the warpstone is located and we need to follow through on it."

"Well, why couldn't Obi-Wan have gone by himself?" Anakin demanded. "Then we could have gone on our … our … sa..sabba … "

"Sabbatical," Obi-Wan interjected kindly, and Qui-Gon didn't know how he did it, but somehow, despite the mud spattering his hair and the bug bites peppering his neck, Obi-Wan still exuded a wry calm that Qui-Gon hoped would bridle Anakin's growing discontent. "And I'm still a new Knight, Anakin; this mission could be too dangerous for just me alone." He smiled at Anakin earnestly. "I need your help, Ani." Obi-Wan's expression grew serious as he leveled a gentle look on the young Padawan. "It is also our responsibility to go where we're sent, Anakin. That's what Masters and Padawans do."

"Then why isn't it just me and Qui-Gon?" Anakin wanted to know, sounding unhappy at even voicing the thought but his question didn't surprise Obi-Wan at all; he'd had no trouble picking up on Anakin's possessiveness from the start. And he couldn't blame Anakin - taken from everything familiar and thrust into a spotlight of incredible pressure … no, he couldn't blame the boy at all. The best he could do was:

"Because I need your help," Obi-Wan reiterated. He smiled his brilliant smile, a fleeting spot of warmth in the murky cold of the swampy forest. "Because I'm still learning."

Anakin returned his smile a little shyly and Qui-Gon gave a sigh a relief, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Caring for the Chosen One, he was finding, was far more difficult than tending to a Padawan raised in the ways of the Jedi.

Some of the good humor that had first drawn Qui-Gon's attention to the young boy on Tatooine returned to Anakin's mood and his small features creased into a smile. "I guess we could help you out, Obi-Wan," he grinned a little. "Just for now." The Padawan's smile almost immediately became a grimace as the mud they continued to forge through tried to pull the boot right off his foot. "But are we there yet?"

"No," Qui-Gon replied, struggling to force some cheer into his voice. He continued slogging on through the thick underbrush, brushing brambles from his hair. The clearing should be ahead shortly, though; it had to be … He wanted to roll his eyes, as un-Masterlike as it was. His idyllic camping trip - er, mission - wasn't turning out quite how he'd envisioned. While he'd known Obi-Wan wasn't thrilled with the idea of eating anything off of a stick, he had at least thought Anakin might enjoy the new experience.

He'd been wrong.

The mental count in his head reached thirty-two before he heard:

"Are we there yet?"

"No." Qui-Gon sighed, risked an optimistic glance at Obi-Wan. "Perhaps you could help out?" he suggested hopefully.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Sure." He paused, waiting a moment, before asking:

"Are we there yet?"

Qui-Gon heaved a resigned exhalation. "I meant, could you help me out, not Anakin," he clarified shortly.

"Oh. Of course," Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, next time, specify. Otherwise I just have to guess."

Qui-Gon was contemplating ripping his hair out at the roots when his hopeless gaze noticed a gradual lightening in the distance - a clearing! Finally!

"Just another minute, Anakin, and we can stop for the night," he said cheerfully. "Who's hungry?"

OoOoOoOo

Obi-Wan didn't bother trying to hide his disgust as he slid the first crisped, gangly animal from the charred stick in his hand with a scraping, sucking sound, leaving a slimy red smear and bits of entrails behind with two other bubbling carcasses.

"This is really gross, Qui-Gon," he said bluntly, disgust crumpling his features.

"Eeeww, then I don't want any!" Anakin protested unhappily - sporting, Qui-Gon noted to his dismay, a rather Obi-Wan-like furrow. Perhaps they were spending too much time with his former apprentice …

"Obi-Wan, please," Qui-Gon said sternly, with a sigh. Obi-Wan looked surprised for a moment, then forced a smile that wobbled around the edges.

"I mean, mmmm," he corrected himself exaggeratedly. "I cannot wait to … eat … this," he finished lamely, shooting Qui-Gon an apologetic look.

Qui-Gon dropped his head into his hands. "You're not helping," his muffled voice informed the Knight wearily.

"Well, you're not giving me much to work with," Obi-Wan retorted archly, quirked eyebrow adding to his pointed rejoinder as he waved the dripping mass of meat around, splattering drops of red that sizzled as they hit their small fire. "Look at this sh - "

"All right!" Qui-Gon interrupted hastily. "How about trail rations?"

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a noncommittal, halfhearted shrug. "Okay," Anakin agreed, and Obi-Wan gingerly handed the leaking mass of animal back to Qui-Gon.

"Enjoy!" he encouraged warmly.

Qui-Gon couldn't hide a grimace. "I think I'll just go to bed, thank you," he replied, dropping the stick with a wet plop and ducking into their shelter with the barest of sighs.

OoOoOoOo

He skidded to a halt in the medcenter - oh gods, he was too late! Obi-Wan was too pale, Obi-Wan was dead because he'd made the wrong decision, Anakin hadn't needed him at all, he'd had the other Nubian pilots to cover his back but Obi-Wan hadn't had anyone, had needed him and he hadn't been there because he'd chosen wrong and now Obi-Wan was dead and it was his fault and he'd lost his Padawan …

because Obi-Wan had needed him and he hadn't been there.

"Please don't die," he whispered, and he knew that Yoda was watching him disapprovingly because he was so attached to Obi-Wan, but maybe it was just the shimmer of tears in his own eyes that made it look suspiciously like Yoda was crying too …

His hands were shaking so hard he could barely lift them through Obi-Wan's saturated hair, soaked with sweat but he could almost see the red staining his fingers, which was silly because the gutted slice through Obi-Wan's back from the Sith's lightsaber had cauterized immediately but he still thought he could see the red, so much red as Obi-Wan's life faded away …

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open, his hand automatically reaching to his left, grasping, groping, snatching at the light blanket nearby and the solidly muscled leg beneath it. Only when he felt the warmth beneath his fingers did he release a shaky exhalation, immediately pulling in another breath as he tried to calm his ragged breathing. Under his clutching fingers, Obi-Wan shifted and grumbled something in his sleep but Qui-Gon wasn't quite ready to let go yet.

Obi-Wan hadn't died.

Obi-Wan had lived, even though a piece of Qui-Gon's soul had died that day.

In the dim light of the moon leaking in, Qui-Gon stared at the low ceiling overhead of their small shelter; to his right, Anakin slept soundly, exhausted from the day's trek. To his left, Obi-Wan was curled on his side, shifting restlessly under the duress of Qui-Gon's unfettered disquiet.

"Qui-Gon, go back to sleep," Obi-Wan grumbled sleepily, burrowing deeper into his pillow. "We're all fine."

"I didn't say anything," Qui-Gon protested guiltily, withdrawing his hand, secretly glad to be pulled from his morbid thoughts. The dream - the memory - was still too close to the surface for his thumping heart to calm completely.

"You think very loudly," Obi-Wan yawned, accented words almost unintelligible under the sleepy fuzziness of his voice. "Still connected, we are, through our bond," he mumbled, in his most ridiculous imitation of Yoda, and Qui-Gon felt an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth. "Sleep now, you must, before 'are we there yet' becomes tomorrow's most overused phrase," he drifted back into wry Obi-Wan, his eyes already closing as his breathing evened out again. "Just go to sleep, Qui-Gon," he murmured gently. "Stop worrying."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon retorted, heard Obi-Wan snort a laugh as he settled back to sleep. Finally, Qui-Gon felt his own eyelids growing heavy again, and surrendered gratefully to oblivion.

As he clutched Obi-Wan's slack arm in the medcenter and waited for the Padawan to awake, Qui-Gon made a promise to both of them:

"I will never let you down again," he whispered.

OoOoOoOo

The following day, their weary slogging brought them to the outskirts of a small, miserable-looking town.

"This wasn't on the map," Qui-Gon muttered, confused, rummaging around in his pack for said map.

"Who cares, as long as they have showers," Obi-Wan put in cheerfully, but Qui-Gon could see the worry lines that tightened his blue-grey eyes. There was something odd about this town, just like the forest. It was too quiet.

Tiny clusters of stone houses grouped forlornly around the town square, their black windows yawning darkness even in the filtered midday sun. Cheerless, bedraggled trees drooped their leafless branches to the ground, skeletal fingers scratching idly against the bare, dry dirt. Despite the warm temperature, there was still the feeling of a chill in the air, disconcerting as it stirred the hair at their necks and sent a ripple down their spines.

"I don't like this," Obi-Wan said suddenly.

Qui-Gon waved his hand airily, smiling for Anakin's benefit; he could sense his young Padawan's unease. "You're always overly cautious, Obi-Wan." It was like this with them: Qui-Gon with the Living Force, Obi-Wan's strength in the Unifying - whose 'feeling' won out when there was a disagreement: Qui-Gon's sense of motives and living in the present, or Obi-Wan's premonitions and "bad feelings." Oftentimes their differences served them well; other times, it had caused many disagreements between the two. Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, it often simply came down to Qui-Gon pulling rank.

Obi-Wan drew Qui-Gon back with a hand on his arm, murmuring lowly, "No, Qui-Gon, I'm serious. I have a bad feeling about this. We should leave now."

"Hey, look!"

They turned at Anakin's startled exclamation to see the little village had changed: shadowy faces were appearing in the windows; humanoid, pale and thin, expressions curious.

"There, you see," Qui-Gon said pointedly, tone indicating there would be no more dissension from his former Padawan. "It's fine. Perhaps they can point us to the warpstone and we'll be on our way."

"Qui-Gon - "

Qui-Gon shook his head sharply. "Don't scare Anakin," he said quietly, then added for Obi-Wan's ears alone, "But watch our backs."