TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter one: so much for trying, it's time to move on
Obi-Wan's bad feeling continued throughout his nightlong attempt at meditation, and when he finally gave up and stumbled back inside the ship feeling like he'd been flattened by one of the local banthas, the suns' rays were rippling across the desert with the promise of another scorcher of a day. Obi-Wan smiled slightly, warily pleased by the warmth that drove the chill of the night from his fatigued, sore body and soothed his aching muscles.
I need a shower, he thought muzzily, and thumbed at his chin experimentally. And a shave. He was supremely grateful that no one else appeared to be awake yet – after all, they could all rest safe in the knowledge that he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had been left guarding the ship in the middle of the desert with no one around for kilometers, he thought snarkily - for the sublime reason that the queen's handmaidens were all too willing and eager to help him with anything he might need, and he was pretty certain that he would be able to figure out how to take a shower by himself.
At least Qui-Gon had taken that one handmaiden with him. She was just a little too forward for Obi-Wan's tastes, and personally he thought just a bit young to be pinching Jedi Padawans when she thought they weren't looking.
Obi-Wan bypassed the door to the tiny quarters he'd been assigned but stopped short as he realized that he had absolutely nothing with him besides the clothes on his back. His travel bag had been aboard the now obliterated Republic vessel that had brought him and Qui-Gon to Naboo.
Obi-Wan sighed. Not only did he feel he'd been trampled by a bantha; another day in this desert without clean clothing and he'd start to smell like one, too.
"Jedi Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan turned around slowly. I guess I'm not the only one up, after all.
"Your Highness," he replied politely, wishing, oddly, that he weren't quite so scruffy looking at the moment, but the queen smiled, a sweet, gentle smile, and without her customary face makeup Obi-Wan thought she looked far more regal and lovely than she had appeared before, sporting that ridiculous plumage. This morning she was clad in robes not unlike those he'd seen her handmaidens wear, and while she seemed slightly embarrassed to be so scaled down in appearance, Obi-Wan reflected that she also appeared more at in ease in her simple earth-toned robes.
"Is there something I can assist you with, Jedi Kenobi?" she asked, and Obi-Wan noted with pleased gratitude that she was genuinely offering her help without any hint of the salaciousness he'd detected in her handmaidens; as if she'd picked up on his thought, however, she flashed him a truly lecherous smirk.
Obi-Wan blinked in mild concern. He'd never been good at dissuading amorous royalty; too many protocols that were too easy to overstep. He'd always had to depend on Qui-Gon to disentangle him from those particular messes.
At his suddenly stricken look, the queen's coy smile wobbled and dissolved into an honest grin, and she dropped her head into the palm of her upraised hand with a small laugh.
"I apologize," she said, shaking her head as her pale lips curved back into their gentle smile. "It's very early, and I couldn't help it."
Huh? Obi-Wan thought. He was still trying to process whether or not she was about to attack him. The queen's bright eyes secured his, and it was with relief that he read only warmth and humor in their dark depths.
"I know that you've had a trying time with all of us – and some of us in particular – and I couldn't help but tease you when you presented the opportunity. I do apologize."
Obi-Wan shook his head and even offered a half-smile of his own. "That's quite all right, Your Highness." He paused and considered briefly. He really, really needed to get cleaned up, but he was a little embarrassed to ask the queen, of all people, for help.
On the other hand, everything on the vessel really belonged to her anyway – or at least the taxpayers of Naboo.
"Actually," he decided quickly, "I would appreciate a bit of help, if it's not too much trouble." He briefly explained his dilemma, and was extremely gratified when she not only directed him to one of the vessel's showering facilities, but also to the storage portion of the ship where he collected soap, shampoo, and shaving supplies. He thanked her profusely and took his leave, returning to the shower facilities. Gingerly he stripped out of his dust-caked clothing and dumped them into the cycler unit installed in the wall.
The hot shower felt absolutely wonderful to his tired body, and he was grateful to the queen for her thoughtfulness and thanked the Force that there were actually hot water showers installed on the Nubian vessel. Obi-Wan had always disliked being cold and cold showers were second on his list of Hated Things, right beneath Qui-Gon's dubious idea of a vacation which, for some reason unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, included outdoors and tent camping and "getting back to nature, Padawan!" which automatically ruled the entire trip out as a vacation for Obi-Wan, who – unless it was absolutely necessary – refused to eat anything off of a stick unless it was a toasted marshmallow. So undignified.
The thought made Obi-Wan smile and as his body slowly relaxed he began humming softly, an old, quiet melody in his native language – until he caught himself and promptly ceased.
None of that, he reprimanded himself sternly. That was for another time, and a far different place. Jedi do not dwell in the past.
When he finally felt clean and a little better, Obi-Wan toweled off and surveyed his reflection in the mirror before picking through his new accessories to locate his razor. He shaved quickly and then retrieved a comb, dragging it through his short hair. He tied off the small ponytail and set to work on his braid, threading through the long strands with his slim fingers and weaving them deftly with the skill of many years of practice.
A skill he would soon no longer need.
Obi-Wan brushed the melancholy thought aside as soon as it developed. It was difficult to believe that soon he would no longer be Qui-Gon's Padawan, but maybe that was for the better. Their relationship, it seemed to him, grew more and more fragile with each passing day. It wasn't that Obi-Wan didn't love his master, but it was all in that he'd always known his place by Qui-Gon's side was only temporary, and now that time was coming to a close.
Obi-Wan scrubbed at his eyes with a weary hand as he fastened a yellow band into his braiding.
He'd wanted to believe that his nightmares were just that – dreams with no bearing on reality, and until they'd landed on Tatooine he'd almost convinced himself that that was true. But once the queen's vessel had been damaged by the Trade Federation's laser cannons, everything fell into place just as it had been in his dreams, and even as he knew he would, he'd damned himself by uttering the name of a planet they would have otherwise passed by.
With Qui-Gon's fateful meeting with the boy – Anakin – and the subsequent attachment between the two, Obi-Wan now held a very tenuous position – or to be quite frank: he was in the way. He had better well be ready for his Trials, otherwise he would fail in his quest to become a Jedi Knight. No one would take on a Padawan his age, and Obi-Wan's lifelong dream would die a quiet death in the shadows.
Despite himself and his training, Obi-Wan was angry. Angry at Qui-Gon for his attachment to Anakin, and angrier with himself for not being strong enough to … to take it like a Jedi Knight.
Which was why, regardless of all his years of training, he didn't deserve to be a Knight.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly. Which was why he wouldn't be a Jedi Knight.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan thought, surveying his red band for a moment and considering its symbolization before using it to tie off his plait with a sharp yank, being prescient really sucks.
OOOOOOOOOO
Qui-Gon, Padmé, and Jar-Jar Binks had returned from the Skywalker hovel that evening and the weary Jedi Master had tersely informed the queen and Obi-Wan of this latest disaster in what seemed like a very long line of troubles that had begun the moment he and Obi-Wan had stepped aboard the Trade Federation vessel orbiting Naboo. The queen took it calmly, stilling the irate Padmé with a pointed look. Qui-Gon was grateful for the queen's intervention; although he had sensed the young handmaiden's affectionate regard for Anakin, Padmé had been quite vocal about the lost wager once the devastated boy was out of earshot. Qui-Gon had seen to Anakin as best he could: the boy was an integral part of his future, he was certain - but how exactly, he wasn't sure. However, he had reassured the child as gently as possible and in no uncertain terms that what had happened wasn't Anakin's fault; it was simply the will of the Force.
What they would do now, Qui-Gon had no idea.
Obi-Wan had been uncharacteristically quiet since Qui-Gon had broken the news of Anakin's loss to the Dug racer, Sebulba, and the Jedi Master was unsure how to broach the newly-opened rift between he and Obi-Wan. He knew that Obi-Wan was angry; the Padawan had disapproved of Qui-Gon's risky plan from the very beginning and was now understandably tense with wondering what options they could possibly have left to them.
Qui-Gon exhaled slowly, pinching the slightly humped bridge of his nose. What could he say? Where had he first gone wrong? He'd felt the call of the Force so strongly and was so sure he'd followed the path he'd been urged to take, but everything seemed to have gone horribly, terribly wrong, and he could think of no solution to the problem they were currently posed with. They were beyond penniless now, and he had placed them in the regrettable position of forfeiting the queen's vessel. The Force that had pushed him so fervently into wagering their future on a young boy was suddenly silent to him, and he could see no way of reconciling the situation within the time frame they needed to get the young queen to Coruscant.
Still, Qui-Gon refused to believe he'd been led astray; for now, the only thing he could do was wait for the call of the Force.
And I must see to Obi-Wan.
His apprentice stood alone outside the ship, silent as the night around him, and Qui-Gon quietly joined him. Away from prying ears he waited for the storm to come, but Obi-Wan merely continued to stare at the shifting desert sands as the midnight moons glittered overhead. It would be a shame to leave the wide-open space of Tatooine, Qui-Gon knew, but he suspected that Obi-Wan was eager to return to the thriving urbanity of Coruscant and the city-planet's tall towers and always-bustling busyness.
Though Obi-Wan's steady, veiled gaze did not betray any of the tumultuous emotions his Master knew were roiling beneath the surface, Qui-Gon could feel unspoken accusation pulsing through the bond they shared, and had felt it since he had returned to the ship.
What if this plan fails? We could be stuck here for a very long time.
"Obi-Wan?" he finally pressed.
A slight tremor shook the well-muscled frame as Qui-Gon's prompt broke the still night air, but Obi-Wan kept a calm façade even though his eyes had greyed into the color of cold steel. His voice, when he finally spoke, had a cold timbre inflected over the normally dulcet tones.
"Master?"
"Obi-Wan … " Words seemed so inadequate, but he had to stand by his earlier conviction. "I'm here to hear your opinion, if you've anything to say, Padawan." He didn't mean to emphasize Obi-Wan's status, but he couldn't help the slight twinge of anger at his apprentice's silent brooding.
And Obi-Wan, of course, picked up on his master's disapproval. The young Jedi's lashes dropped and he turned away fractionally, as if he were struggling to keep from lashing out at his master.
What if it's true, and the people are dying?
"We're running out of time." The words were softly spoken, released on the breath of a sigh.
"I know, Obi-Wan."
"What shall we do, Master?"
"That, I don't know." Qui-Gon passed a tired hand over his eyes. "I didn't see that we had any other choice, Obi-Wan."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Obi-Wan agreed quietly, but his narrowed eyes glinted in the moonlight.
"And what would you have had me do, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Anything other than what you did, perhaps? Gambling, Master – as if that sets an example for the young boy you wagered on and encouraged to take such a foolish, foolhardy chance with his life and our meager resources."
Qui-Gon had known Obi-Wan long enough to sense that the storm was finally approaching, and he waited patiently while it built in intensity as Obi-Wan's frustrations finally unleashed themselves in a torrent of words laced with exasperation and confusion.
"We were supposed to be finding a way off this planet back to Coruscant – not picking out slaves to place wagers on in the hope that they'd win some silly, stupid race! There must have been another way, Qui-Gon – "
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's voice was severe and his apprentice's outburst ceased immediately though the fire in his eyes did not. "You will not refer to Anakin in such terms again. He is more than just a slave child; you tested his midichlorian count yourself! I will not tolerate disrespectful behavior from you; am I understood?"
During his outburst, Obi-Wan had turned fully away from Qui-Gon and now the Jedi Master watched the broad, robed shoulders of his apprentice slump as the young man surveyed the outstretched desert. He didn't speak, though, and Qui-Gon wanted to make sure his message had been received and would be obeyed.
"Am I understood, Padawan?" he repeated, more sternly this time.
Obi-Wan's reply, when it came, was defeated. "Yes, Master. Understood perfectly."
Qui-Gon nodded shortly, suddenly weary beyond his resources. He needed to rest, and meditate. "Good." His burst of anger bled away slowly. Knowing he had been sharp with his sensitive Padawan and wanting to make amends, Qui-Gon lifted a hand to squeeze Obi-Wan's shoulder but froze midway through the gesture without quite knowing why. Shaking his head, he dropped his hand. "Good night, Obi-Wan."
"Good night, Master," Obi-Wan replied automatically. He turned to watch silently as his master disappeared into the belly of the ship, but made no move to follow.
There seemed no reason why he should.
OOOOOOOOOO