Chapter 4: Paternal Instincts

Qui-Gon and Anakin were sitting out on the balcony after a long afternoon spent working the boy's podracer; making sure that it was ready to run. It had been a very productive afternoon. Currently Qui-Gon was trying to treat a cut the boy had gotten while working on the racer. It was proving difficult because the boy was full of questions, distracting Qui-Gon from his self appointed task. Although, truth be told he did not mind the distraction. He enjoyed the boy's natural curiosity and was happy to answer as many of his questions as he could. It was surprising to him that Anakin could still act like an innocent child, despite the circumstances he had been born into. Moreover, the boy's seemingly never ending curiosity about the stars and corresponding planet systems was endearing. It reminded Qui-Gon of Obi-Wan as a boy; so serious one moment and then so inquisitive and cheerful the next.

He was taken aback by how disappointed he was when he had finished cleaning the boy's cut and Shmi called him in for bed. Carefully Qui-Gon collected a sample of the boy's blood telling him only half the truth when he said he wanted to check it for infections. Qui-Gon had every intention of checking the sample for more than just possible infections.

Again Shmi called out for her son, beginning to sound annoyed by his lack of response. Anakin lingered, deliberately pretending not to have heard his mother. Qui-Gon was just about to send the boy inside when a shadow fell across them.

"Come along now Ani," Lyyr softly implored the boy, "before she gets upset with you."

Both Jedi and boy looked up startled; neither one of them had been aware of her return. She leaned casually against the archway her arms folded akimbo across her chest, waiting for them to recover their senses. Anakin left his perch on the railing without the protest he had earlier given Shmi. Nearing the girl he reached up and grabbed a hold of her arm. Qui-Gon saw the girl jump slightly at his touch but cover it quickly enough that Anakin did not notice.

"Lyyr, will you come tuck me in?" He asked his voice soft and rather hesitant. She smiled down at him with genuine affection. She took his small hand in her own and allowed him to lead her into the hovel. As she turned away from him, Qui-Gon noticed that the dark stain on her sleeve had spread down her left arm.

Curious, but realizing he could not do anything about it, Qui-Gon pushed the image of that stain out of his mind. He needed to focus his attention on the conversation he was about to have with Obi-Wan. He called his padawan informing him what it was he wanted done, then taking the data chip stained with Anakin's blood he inserted into the comlink. Obi-Wan quickly analyzed the sample for him and the results were disturbing. A midi-chlorian count of over twenty- thousand; no Jedi alive had such a high concentration of midi-chlorian within his system. This boy was an anomaly – a vergence in the Force.

Lyyr finished tucking in Anakin, an involved process that included a story and a song. It was also one that he was getting too old for, but truthfully, she did not mind indulging him. There were so few happy moments, she had not been hardened enough to deprive Anakin of them. She left his room quietly, trying not to bump into any stay mechanical part which might cause a racket and wake him. The excitement of the day must have been too much for her little brother. After little persuasion he passed out almost immediately.

Once she extracted herself from Ani's room without incident Lyyr made her way towards the kitchen. That would almost certainly be where she would find Shmi at this time of night and she could use the woman's help in re-dressing her wounded shoulder. Norith had not taken care to be gentle with it; neither had Shol.

Lyyr wasn't looking forward to informing Shmi about the state of her wound. It had surely begin to fester by now despite the steps she had taken earlier to treat it. That knife had been more rust than steel and she was bound to have grains of sand trapped under her skin irritating matters. Still this was not the first time Lyyr had returned home batter, bruised and in general the worst for ear; it would not be the last. Her record for injury was rather impressive. Not that Shmi appreciated it.

As she passed the outlander on the balcony she could sense his gaze on her. Lyyr ignored him. She had her plate full as it was; trying to think up of a way to tell Shmi what had happened now. The fact that she had sought out Jira's help and attempted to care for the wound properly herself would not do much to help her case. Shmi would be upset no matter what Lyyr said. She took these things as a personal affront, particularly Lyyr's casual acceptance at being a living punching bag.

Lyyr could only hope that Shmi would keep her examinations of outrage to a minimum and at a respectable volume. She did not want to announce to the outlanders that she was injured. Long ago Lyyr had learned the hard way never to let a stranger catch her in a moment of weakness.

Still there was little she could do if Shmi decided to make a scene. Lyyr would rather ignore the wound entirely but Delcep had managed to tear open Jira's careful stitching. Then Shol had found immense pleasure in ruining it further. Lyyr had felt the blood seep through the bandages again and it was now at a point where she really should not continue ignoring it.

Therefore she entered the kitchen apprehensively still uncertain on what to tell Shmi. To cover her confusion she began to dry then put away the dishes Shmi had cleaned and left sitting in the sink.

"Did Anakin fall asleep?" Shmi questioned her. Lyyr nodded in response.

"Good. He needs his rest; tomorrow is a big day for him."

"Oh," Lyyr asked. She was both curious and attempting to stall for time.

"He's entered that pod of his in the Boonta race; Qui-Gon is sponsoring him." Shmi informed her and the irritation in her quite voice was unmistakable to someone who knew her well. Lyyr had often been a source of irritation to the woman so she was used to listening for it. Shmi masked it well but Lyyr always knew. "Qui-Gon seems to believe that Ani will win. The prize money could then pay for the parts for their ship."

"You don't agree with this plan," Lyyr remarked getting to the heart of the matter.

"Of course I don't!" Shmi replied in a rare burst of anger. "But Ani can help them, I know that; besides Qui-Gon truly believes that he will win. I just do not share the Jedi's confidence but then I am a mother and it is my job to worry."

Lyyr kept her surprise at the revelation that the man was a Jedi to herself. She also kept her doubts to herself. The fact that the Jedi was sure of his plan seemed to be all the reassurance Shmi needed, and Lyyr was not about to give her any reasons to doubt him. Shmi always said she was too mistrustful. Therefore, Lyyr kept her comments to herself and remained silent.

"I told Padmé to spend the night in your room Lyyr."Shmi announced after the silence had stretched on, "I hope that is alright? I did not know if you would be back tonight." She continued delicately mentioning Lyyr's other occupation.

"That's fine Shmi. I can sleep out in the main room tonight." Lyyr said with a smile trying to convey some reassurance.

Shmi smiled in return and reached out to lightly pat Lyyr's shoulder – her injured shoulder. Lyyr flinched from the touch than quickly tried to school her expression into anything other than a grimace of pain. She could not help the hiss of pain that escaped her. For a moment Shmi stared at her in bewilderment than her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Shmi grabbed Lyyr by the forearm and pulled back the clothing around the girls shoulder. She found the soggy bandages and frowning gently peeled them away from her skin.

"Oh Lyyr!" She exclaimed in a mixture of exasperation and concern upon discovering what state the girl's shoulder was in. "Why did you hide this from me?"

"That wasn't my intention," Lyyr tried to explain; suddenly reduced to the mannerisms of sheepish six year old in the face of Shmi's motherly concern.

"That's never your intention Lyyr; but it always happens." Shmi began sternly stressing the last two words. Lyyr could tell that Shmi wanted to remain stern (and scold the girl she called daughter) but for some reason she relented.

"Lyyr I do appreciate your attempts not to worry me, but really child," the woman sighed then and gave the stunned girl a quick fierce hug. Upon releasing Lyyr, her face and manner was serious. "Come, it looks like you have allowed this to fester."

Maintaining her grip on Lyyr's forearm, Shmi lead the girl out of the kitchen and towards the balcony. Lyyr was still stunned by Shmi's obvious affection for her that it did not occur to her to resist until it was too late. By this time Shmi had half lead half dragged her to the Jedi. Lyyr was hard pressed to think of a legitimate and reasonable excuse to avoid the man. She did not know why she disliked him so but she had learned to trust her gut instinct; at least until it was proven wrong.

He was still sitting where he had been earlier – perched on the railing and looking pensively at the night sky. She saw a comlink in his hand and she wondered what kind of news he had received to make him look so peevish. At the sound of their approach Qui-Gon turned his gaze on them tucking the comlink away so quickly that for a moment Lyyr wondered if she had actually seen it. There was something about his face and its serious expression that seemed familiar. Memories that she had tried to bury and forget began to stir but Lyyr quickly squashed them. Old memories were not beneficial; she needed to erase her past in order to endure her present reality. Doing so had always been a challenge to her.

"Qui-Gon," Shmi addressed the man before he could say anything. "Would you please take a look at this?" She finished pulling Lyyr forward. An easy thing for Shmi to do since she had yet to relinquish her grip on Lyyr's arm; she found it a far too convenient handle.

"Sit down and let him take a look," she commanded Lyyr.

"This isn't necessary Shmi," Lyyr stalled.

"You may not care Lyyr but I do." Shmi snapped. Clearly she was no longer up to discussing the matter.

While they were talking Qui-Gon had stood up and reaching for the fabric at Lyyr's shoulder. He towered over the girl and she was made extremely uncomfortable by his close proximity. He peeled back the layers of bandage, much like Shmi had, to see the flesh beneath. Unlike Shmi he head to bend over a bit in order to look at the wound closely. Lyyr masked her true feelings with her surprise at the man's knowledge.

"How did you know?" Lyyr asked with amazement and barely concealed suspicion. "We did not tell you."

"I saw the stain on your tunic," was his succinct reply. He seemed more interested in prodding at her wound then carrying on a conversation.

"It is not as terrible as I feared," he finally announced, looking up and addressing Shmi. "It will have to be re-stitched and cleaned thoroughly but she should avoid any lasting damage."

Lyyr was annoyed at him for talking about her as if she was not there. She was fully capable of hearing and understanding what was being said.

"That is a relief. I had feared she done herself permanent harm by not taking care of it." Shmi was exhausted; Lyyr could hear it in her voice.

Apparently her concern for Lyyr on top of her anxiety about Anakin racing had wiped Shmi out. Lyyr felt a twinge of guilt at causing Shmi pain through her indifference. Qui-Gon must have sensed the woman's exhaustion as well for he encouraged her to go in to bed with reassurances that he would care for the wound. Shmi smiled at him in gratitude before kissing Lyyr on the cheek and then leaving. Using Lyyr's arm as a handle, Qui-Gon steered her over to the balcony railing then through the gentle application of pressure forced her to sit down. My arm is too convenient for far too many people, Lyyr thought with a cynical snarl as she perched hesitantly on the railing. She was ready for any opportunity to bolt.

Qui-Gon must have sensed that for he pulled out his own mini-medical kit from a pouch attached to his belt. Lyyr found herself momentarily at eye level with the hilt of his laser sword. She suppressed an involuntary shiver. She did not trust Jedi (she hardly trusted anyone) the fact that Qui-Gon was a man only made her less inclined to trust him.

Qui-Gon was as close to becoming angry as he had been in a long time. It was not a state of being that he enjoyed. Moreover, infuriating him like this without actually doing anything was a feat that not even his padawan could manage. Somehow the girl had pushed him beyond the limits of his patience; all because she did not care for herself. Taking a deep breath Qui-Gon called upon the Living force to sooth his nerves.

As he reached for his medical kit he caught a glimpse of her unguarded expression. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else and he could clearly see that she did not trust him. The girl had to have seen his lightsaber; he was no longer bothering to keep it concealed while at the Skywalker's home. If Anakin was able to guess what he was then the girl must know him to be a Jedi. Surely a Jedi was more worthy of her trust than anyone else outside of her family.

Instead her eyes narrowed with some suppressed emotion he could not pinpoint. She looked positively venomous then; almost like she wished she could take his lightsaber and run him through with his own weapon. With her black hair curling about her face and her frosty eyes she radiated a sense of barely controlled anger and primitive power. That sense of power reminded Qui-Gon of someone he had known long ago; a woman that Lyyr resembled uncannily.

He sat down next to her without a word; his own irritation forgotten in the face of her obvious dislike for him. He could not help but wonder what had happened in the girl's life to make her so mistrustful that she would be suspicious of a Jedi. Usually only criminals had reasons to regard Jedi in such a fashion. Keeping his questions to himself (for now) Qui-Gon set about fixing the damage that had been done.

First he would have to remove what was left of someone else's attempt to stitch the wound shut. Whoever had first done so clearly had no medical –even rudimentary- training but was just as clearly an old hand at sewing.

As he worked on taking out the stitches (which had been done with common tailors thread) he became aware of how Lyyr held herself. There was tension in her body almost as if she was fighting the urge to flee from him. That told him clearer than anything she might say that she was afraid of men. She must have suffered some form of abuse at the hands of a man. The thought wounded him. The girl must have been badly abused to be so guarded and she was still such a child. Qui-Gon found himself wishing that she had been spared such harshness.

Once the last of the stitches were removed and the wound was fully opened up Qui-Gon could see the full extent of the original damage done to her. At the sight of the gaping jagged hole Qui-Gon found himself becoming irate again; he wanted to know who could do such harm to a child. He wanted to protect the girl. Wanting to protect a young child was not a foreign felling for the Jedi – so he did not devout any time to examine the feeling. Instead he focused his concentration back on the gaping hole in the girl's skin.

Qui-Gon set about properly cleaning the wound; noticing that at times Lyyr would flinch away from his touch in an involuntary expression of discomfort. While he had practically free access to it Qui-Gon took some of her blood and smeared it on a data chip to be analyzed latter. As he set the chip aside he noticed her eyes flicker from him back to their stubborn and stoic contemplation of the night sky. Even though she had not questions his actions (she had remained eerily silent so far) Qui-Gon felt compelled to explain his actions.

"I want to check your blood for infections. There is no need for you to risk possibly losing your arm because this was not treated thoroughly." She made no response; in fact she did not even acknowledge that she had heard him. Once more Qui-Gon found himself squashing a sense of aggravation. Apparently he could not cope with the silent treatment. But then, he had never known someone to use silence as skillfully as a weapon. Silence may be the only 'weapon' she possessed which might explain why she was so successful at using it.

After the wound was cleaned to his satisfaction; Qui-Gon retrieved a needle and some thread to re-stitch it close. Unlike the course and common tailor's thread that had been holding her skin together, what he used was a specially designed synthetic medical thread that would dissolve over time. He did not believe that she would remember to have the stitching removed once her shoulder healed. As his needle pierced her skin, Lyyr gave the first true indication that she found the whole process painful. She hissed sharply between clenched teeth and Qui-Gon looked up not only to catch a flickering expression of pain on her face but the unexpected sight of one shimmering tear fall from the corner of her violet eye.

He took a moment to track its progression down her young cheek; unsurprised to note that she ignored it. Her gaze and all of her attention remained resolutely focused on the stars above. Her composure was remarkable, almost admirable, and Qui-Gon felt himself compelled to speak to her again. He would have offered words of comfort, as his paternal instincts were urging him to do, but he sensed that she would not welcome them. She was too proud and too mistrustful to seek comfort from a stranger let alone accept it. Instead, he asked;

"How was this done to you?"

"With an antique," was the succinct answer. He wished she had bothered to be more specific, still he had half expected her to not answer. So he was pleased that she had bothered to say anything at all.

"Why?"

"Because my master wished it," Lyyr answered; infusing the word 'master' with such contempt and loathing that to Qui-Gon it was almost a physical blow. That was a word that for him as a padawan leaner had been synonymous with 'father'; a term that was meant to show respect and affection. Qui-Gon regarded Lyyr with such pity then that if she noticed it, it would have angered and embarrass her. He wondered if the child had ever known affection; if she was even capable of expressing such emotions. But then he recalled Shmi's obvious concern and love for the girl and he chided himself for his unkind thoughts. Beneath Lyyr's rough façade and beyond the harsh realities of her life, she must have found a way to still allow love and good-will into her heart. Qui-Gon had to admire her for that. There were not many who could still maintain some variation of hope after experiencing what she saw every day.

"There are impressive aren't they?" She murmured interrupting his train of thought. He did not answer her for he wasn't sure if she had meant to address him. He finished the last stitch and tied off the thread, then laid a thick piece of gauze over his handy work to protect it. She did not say anymore and the silence stretched on.

"Lyyr," he began when the silence dragged out, "why did you ignore this?"

"I didn't," she answered honestly enough. He had seen the evidence that someone had attempted to treat the wound for himself.

"Then why do you insist on acting in a manner that you know upsets your mother?" Qui-Gon asked allowing some of his own irritation to show through. He was no longer able to push off asking the question that had been bugging him since Shmi left.

That one question earned him Lyyr's undivided attention. Her head snapped around towards him so quickly that he wondered if she injured himself. She stared at him in surprise for a moment before her vibrant eyes harden into a glare.

"Excuse me?" She queried her voice low and quiet. Once again Qui-Gon was given the impression that she could be a dangerous woman. But the Jedi was not about to back down; particularly sense the girl's outwardly indifference was causing Shmi a great deal of pain. Life was tough already; Lyyr did not have to make it worse with her bitterness.

"Are you incapable of seeing the pain you're causing Shmi with your complete disregard for your own safety? Your carelessness eats away at her and you are too" —

"I do not need or want a lecture from you," Lyyr cut him off her voice cold and full of scorn. "Or anyone who thinks himself morally superior to me." She rebuked him and Qui-Gon was stunned. "Believe it or not Jedi, I am aware of the consequences of my behavior. Besides, what concern of yours is my relationship with Shmi? You do not even know it. The minute you can fix your ship you will just leave us on this rock to suffer through a cruel life that even animals are spared. Without a second thought either, I'd wager. Do us a favor and leave your meddling ways for the rest of the galaxy. It's only out there that they matter."

Lyyr stood then suddenly restless in her indignation. Qui-Gon considered it a minor blessing that he had finished with his ministrations already. He did not want to think of what could have happened if he still had the needle in her skin and she jumped up. She crossed the balcony in a few swift sides then suddenly stopped at the door to look back at him. Qui-Gon kept his expression smooth and composed – giving no hint to his inner thoughts and emotions. As would any Jedi. He caught a flash of further aggravation from her when she could not read his expression.

"What gave you the brilliant idea that Shmi is my mother Jedi?" She stressed the last word, disdain in her voice. The child had a remarkable ability to make anything sound loathsome.

"It only seemed natural that Shmi would be your mother." He answered ignoring her attitude. "Is she your mother?"

"No, my mother is dead." With that Lyyr left him.