TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter eighteen: on the hunt
Obi-Wan was looking for an escape route.
Marjhan was looking for a way to get to Obi-Wan.
Delian was scouring Watto's deserted shop for any idea of where to look next.
And Qui-Gon was looking for his old apprentice – and his intended new one.
OOOOOOOOOO
Though in reality it hadn't been very long at all since Qui-Gon Jinn had left the Outer Rim planet Tatooine in a disastrous attempt to deliver the young queen of Naboo to the Senate on Coruscant, it felt to the Jedi Master like a million lightyears had passed since he'd quietly left his apprentice here to await his return. Now, as his worn boots roused small dust clouds in the cheerful sand beneath his feet, and the grinning breeze stirred his grey-flecked hair, Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile himself. It seemed that the Living Force agreed with him – things would soon be set right.
He would find Obi-Wan and Anakin, return them to the Temple, and start training his new Padawan with his former apprentice by his side – newly Knighted, of course; Obi-Wan had wanted to be a Jedi Knight so much his entire life, he wouldn't even consider turning down a chance to take his Trials.
The Jedi Master didn't think he was being overly optimistic. He would find Obi-Wan and he would keep the young man safe from the Dark They could keep him quarantined at the Temple if they had to until the more experienced Jedi took care of this Dark Side menace.
Qui-Gon allowed his spirits to rise a little. Just being here on Tatooine, doing something, made finding Obi-Wan and Anakin seem much more attainable. His careful steps soon brought him to the Skywalkers' sand-battered door, and he barely hesitated before pressing the announcer.
His good mood, unfortunately, plummeted to the worn soles of his dusty boots as soon as he saw the distressed look on Shmi Skywalker's face when she opened the door.
When he'd been here before, she'd seemed resignedly optimistic, forced to go along with Qui-Gon's admittedly idealistic plan for freeing Anakin and getting the queen's ship repaired. Now, her dark eyes gleamed angrily as she stared at him, making no effort to disguise the disgust in her once kind eyes.
"Master Jedi," she greeted shortly. "Your apprentice isn't here. I don't know where he is." She backed away from the door, intending to turn away but, startled, Qui-Gon immediately held up a pleading hand.
"Wait, please."
Swayed either by the earnestness in his voice or her inherently gentle nature, Shmi released a long breath and returned her gaze to the anxious man on her doorstep. Qui-Gon continued hurriedly, "I'm so sorry I didn't return earlier. Please allow me to explain."
Shmi looked hard at the Jedi Master, her mind stealing away to the memory of the confused young apprentice, now missing, who had tried to help her son. Who had saved her son's life from the monster that had killed Watto. And who had faithfully walked her son home from Watto's workshop at night, even though Anakin's small feet had trod that path alone many, many times before the Jedi's arrival.
Whose blue eyes, wide and apologetic, had asked for forgiveness for putting her only son in danger, even though at the time it had seemed the only way to get the Nubian queen home. That had touched Shmi's weary heart the most.
"Come in, Master Jedi," she said calmly, wondering if he could even hear her hushed words over the loud thudding of her heart in her chest.
"Thank you. First, please, is Anakin home?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, his mood far more subdued than just a moment ago. "I'd like to see him. I need to … apologize."
"He's in his room," Shmi gestured shortly, trying be gracious even though she wanted more than anything to keep this Jedi away from her son. She couldn't bear to see Anakin's own hopes of becoming a Jedi crushed again. "I'll wait for you here."
Qui-Gon appreciated the gesture, though he had no doubt she would be listening just outside the door. He couldn't blame her; after everything that had happened, it was testament to her innate kindness that she'd even let him into her home.
Anakin was lying on his bed listlessly, languidly swishing a model of a starfighter up and down through the air. Qui-Gon cleared his throat lightly, hoping the child could hear him over the excessively loud engine noises and pilot voices he was making. Anakin looked up, his expression brightening and then immediately falling.
"Master Qui-Gon!" He was across the room and into the Jedi Master's arms before Qui-Gon could even caution him to stay in bed. "I'm so glad you're here! Obi-Wan's missing and it's all my fault!"
"Hello, little one," Qui-Gon smiled, carefully maneuvering Anakin's small hands away from his damaged midsection but enveloping the boy's short form in a gentle hug. "Easy, easy, Anakin. I'm afraid much has happened since I went away, none of it pleasant." His smile deepened; he was genuinely pleased to see the boy. "But I am glad to have found you."
"Yeah, I'm glad you're here, too." Anakin shuffled his feet nervously, tripping over the words rushing through his mind and to his mouth. "Delian went to look for Obi-Wan but she said I couldn't come because I had to rest but I really want to help look for him because I'm afraid it's my fault because I was really mad and Obi-Wan tried to stop me but I didn't listen – I was just so mad! And – "
"Hold on, Anakin," Qui-Gon directed, smiling but his stomach churned at the boy's words. What in the Force could have happened in just a few months?
"Do you feel strong enough to come into the kitchen and talk with your mother and me?"
"Of course!" Anakin assured enthusiastically, "I feel like I've been resting for like a week. I'm ready for some action now!"
"All right," Qui-Gon replied, amused, and settled a guiding hand on Anakin's shoulder to lead him out to the dining table. "Let's see if we can't find our missing Obi-Wan."
OOOOOOOOOO
Unaware that his master was so close, Obi-Wan Kenobi gingerly tapped a finger against his ribcage distractedly, mulling over work yet to do today. He'd quietly recovered from the shock of Marjhan's pitiless abuse, but he knew painfully in his heart that unless a miracle arrived, worse was yet to come. He hadn't screamed when she'd sliced through the soles of his feet; he knew somehow that he had been trained better than that and so he stayed quiet despite the fiery anguish.
And then she had cruelly cut the serving girl as a lesson to him and he'd almost made noise then, but he'd rightly felt it would just encourage Marjhan more. At some point the pain had sunk into his overstimulated mind and when she'd made him walk out, leaving bloody smearing footprints across the floor, each step had become more and more excruciating; as he crossed gritty, burning sand, making his agonized way to the slave quarters he'd thought the helpless, tormented tears streaming from his eyes would blind him.
He had finally made it to the fresher in the slave quarters and collapsed in the shower. Never had he been so grateful for the frigid water pouring over him, dulling his senses and some of the pain, but it hadn't done anything to erase the image of the gleaming knife blade scraping down the girl's wan cheek, and the quiet whimper that had slipped from her clenched lips.
"Obi-Wan?"
The young slave started, nearly dropping the spanner he clenched in a white-knuckled grasp.
"Master!" he stuttered, Marjhan's teasing smirk still plastered in front of his eyes. He shook his head quickly, trying to somehow jerk the image away and started to rise from his kneeling position, but his master waved him off kindly.
Risq watched the other man carefully, concerned. He knew how quickly the slaves went downhill after Marjhan got hold of them, and he was saddened that young Obi-Wan had been chosen by his lovely wife as her new toy. He'd expected much from the slave; now, he bitterly regretted even purchasing him in the first place.
"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan uttered a hasty apology, ducking back over the speeder's open engine casing as his pulse thudded in his ears. "I didn't realize you were there."
"Obi-Wan." Risq put a gentle hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, and was surprised when the slave tensed under his grip. He moved his hand away quickly, but Obi-Wan's wide grey eyes were sad when he turned around.
"Master?"
Suddenly unsure of how to approach the young man, Risq switched his line of approach. "How are your feet, boy?" he asked gruffly. "Any better today? No infection, right?"
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "No, sir. I mean, it's a little better, Master, thank you." He hesitated, then offered a ghost of a smile. Risq felt himself smile in return, wondering what charisma, what charm, this young man must have possessed before he'd wound up on the selling block; Risq had known when he'd met the boy that he was Obi-Wan's first buyer: the young man was too clean, too unblemished to have been a slave before.
Before his wife had gotten ahold of him.
"I'll keep you on garage work until your feet heal," he murmured awkwardly, giving the young man's broad shoulder another squeeze.
Obi-Wan's head ducked politely. "Thank you, Master. You're very kind."
Risq shook his head honestly. "No, boy, just regretful. I should have never brought you here." He was not a man given to sentiment - his lovely wife had destroyed any wistfulness he may have once felt toward another - but there was something frighteningly different about Marjhan's pursuit of Obi-Wan; he had never seen her so determinedly focused on breaking a slave before. It bothered him, yes, and if he admitted it to himself, made him jealous in the darkest part of his soul. She was, after all, a thing to behold, as skilled in pleasure as she was in pain.
He had decided that the best thing to do was remove the temptation.
"Listen to me carefully, Obi-Wan," he instructed firmly. "Marjhan and I are going away on business in a few days. I'm gonna leave you your transmitter and some credits to have it deactivated. I'll tell Jak so he doesn't try to stop you and I want you gone before we're back, understand? There are some maps in my office you can use to figure out where you're going."
Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly. With a brief flash of a smile, Risq left the garage and the young slave staring wide-eyed after him.
OOOOOOOOOO
Marjhan was biding her time.
A few more days, and Risq would leave again for Mos Eisley. He'd asked her if she wanted to accompany him, and it didn't take a genius to uncover his ulterior motive. Harvest was shortly upon them, and he'd want all his slaves in top condition.
She'd accepted the offer, much to his surprise. Sadly for him, he hadn't considered at all that she had an ulterior motive, but if her husband didn't know her better than that by now it was really his own failing.
Marjhan considered herself a self-taught expert at breaking in slaves, and she had already decided that she would need help with Obi-Wan – he was too strong, too hardened by the life he'd lived before this to be affected by her coarse persuasions. Besides, she did want him whole, or at the least functioning, for when she finally had him fully won over to her.
She would find what she needed in Mos Eisley. If they had drugs strong enough to erase a man's memories, she could certainly find something that would only influence him to see things her way.
And that was a beautiful thought.
OOOOOOOOOO
Though in reality it hadn't been very long since Delian Ani-Suru had set foot inside Watto's abandoned junk shop, it felt to the Corellian that lightyears had passed since then. Just a few months ago, the shop, dim and cool, had been so lively: Anakin running back and forth between customers, the frantic hum of Watto's beating wings as he cheated and swindled patrons and friends alike, the constant influx of star pilots stopping in for parts and conversation between ports.
Now, the once-crowded shelves were looted and bare, and a thick sheen of sand from recent storms had settled over everything. Her hand went automatically to her blaster, the smooth feel of the handgrip against her palm solidly reassuring. This place gave her the creeps.
She'd been here a couple of times already, each time hoping she would find some clue to Obi-Wan's whereabouts, and each time crushingly disappointed. She didn't know what she'd expected to find this time, she just didn't know what else to do, where else to look. The Jedi had vanished without a trace.
Delian drew a deep breath and stepped outside into the back lot. There was a tarp off to the side covering Watto's decaying corpse and another one for the creature who had murdered him; no one had bothered to do anything with the shop or its deceased owner.
Delian carefully traced out the scene she had found the day Kenobi had disappeared.
Anakin had been here.
Obi-Wan's lightsaber, here.
The corpse of that … creature, still here.
"What are you doing?"
The voice was harsh, rough, startling Delian from her scrutiny. She spun to face the intruder, her blaster up and aimed right between his eyes. A flash of green passed across her vision and the severed blaster muzzle clattered to the ground, which later would really piss her off but right now actually made her back up a step. Delian caught of glimpse of stern blue eyes and flowing hair, and then her Corelli reflexes kicked in and Obi-Wan's lightsaber sprung to life in her hand, cracking into the emerald blade facing her and sending a shower of sparks at them both.
The emerald blade wavered unsteadily and slipped toward the ground as the man across from her stumbled in weariness. Something told Delian not to harm him – he may be what she'd been intended to find this final time digging around the empty shop.
"I'm looking for someone," she said boldly, taking the initiative as she tossed her short hair out of her eyes. "A Jedi apprentice."
"Jedi?" the man repeated. He was casting his eyes around, and when they settled on a large crate, he slowly moved toward it and lowered himself down painfully to sit upon it. "You're looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi," he ventured, a hint of surprise lighting his bright eyes.
"Yes," Delian admitted, covering her astonishment and trying not to let any gleam of hope cloud her thinking. "You know him?"
The man smiled, and Delian found herself sliding toward a state of relaxed ease around him. He exuded warmth and comfort, like Obi-Wan, but he didn't set Delian's emotions on edge the way Kenobi had. She powered down the lightsaber cautiously.
"Of course I know him. He's my apprentice."
A name she'd heard from the Skywalkers clicked and Delian nodded knowingly. "You're Qui-Gon."
The man's head dipped in easy acknowledgement. "I am."
"I'm Delian," the Corellian introduced herself, feeling for the first time since Kenobi had disappeared that there might actually be a chance at finding her missing mechanic - er, the lost Jedi. "Obi-Wan worked for me for awhile. He mentioned you a few times."
"He worked for you?" Qui-Gon questioned, brow furrowing in confusion. "Force, what did that boy get himself into?"
"'Boy'?" Delian snorted disapprovingly. "I think Obi-Wan might have grown up one day and you missed the ship there, ace."
Far from being offended, Qui-Gon looked amused and also a little rueful. "You may be right about that, Delian. So … do you have any idea how to find him?"
Delian shook her blonde head. "Not a clue. Half a story from Anakin, a couple of dead bodies – "
"A 'couple' of bodies?" Qui-Gon interrupted interestedly, peering around the dim exterior. She couldn't blame him for missing them: 'chaos' was a word that easily described the disaster the looters had left.
"Yeah," she answered grimly. "Watto's, and something else. Horns, tattoos, godawful leer." She shuddered at the memory of looking into the creature's wide-open yellow eyes, glaring at her hatefully even in death. She'd thrown up everything in her stomach.
The Jedi Master straightened abruptly and painfully, eagerly alert as his gaze fixed on her. "Red and black tattoos, dressed all in black? Red lightsaber with a blade at each end?"
Delian eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, though I didn't see his lightsaber. How do you know that?"
"I've met him, and I was the one who lost that time," Qui-Gon smiled darkly, gesturing toward his stomach. "What happened to him?"
"Kenobi killed him," Delian replied simply, displaying the lightsaber clutched in her fist. "With this." She set it gently in Qui-Gon's open palm, but didn't take her own hand from the silver casing – no way in hell she was giving up the only piece of Kenobi she had left.
"Did he?" Qui-Gon's fingers tightened around the slender cylinder in amazement. Delian nodded.
"I'm sure of it. What's left of the body is over there if you want to look at it."
"I may," Qui-Gon replied, "but first I want to focus on what we can do to find him." An unfamiliar sense of frustration welled in his chest; he'd been so sure he'd find something once he arrived, he hadn't even allowed himself to consider the sheer impossibility of even finding Obi-Wan. Now, it settled over him like a leaden weight. Was Obi-Wan still even on the planet? Even if he was, how could they possibly find him? He'd been rash in coming here, he knew, but he'd had to try.
"Well," Delian sighed, dropping onto a crate opposite the Jedi. "The only thing missing was Kenobi – and his transmitter. At first I thought maybe he just ran away, but then I found this," she tapped a short fingernail against Obi-Wan's abandoned lightsaber. "And I don't think he would just leave it behind. I swear when he was with me he even had it on him while he slept."
At Qui-Gon's amused look, she added dryly, "All right, I don't have any proof any of that. So anyway," she added quickly, not at all appreciating the way the Jedi's warm blue eyes teased her – damn it, he was so like Obi-Wan it made her want to throw a spanner at him. Kest, she'd love to see the two of them together sometime in action, saving a damsel in distress or whatever. Delian imagined it would be something like one of the swashbuckler vids she'd seen as a kid, all whirling action and snappy dialogue between the master and apprentice as they battled the forces of evil.
She shook away hard the image of Obi-Wan's tightly muscled body moving gracefully in combat; it was distracting her and she had a feeling the Jedi watching her had some idea of where her thoughts were drifting.
"Anyway," she rushed to add, "his transmitter's gone, and I don't think he would have taken that and not his lightsaber. But I don't know what else could have happened," she admitted with a sigh.
Qui-Gon felt a quiet sense of cold dread slowly spread over him. Obi-Wan had disappeared … had he been taken by the Sith, snapped up by the master once Obi-Wan had killed the apprentice? Was he too late?
"No," he whispered. Not Obi-Wan. Please, Force, not Obi-Wan.
"I need to meditate," he announced abruptly, forcing the disturbing thoughts from his mind. "To focus."
Delian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And that's gonna help Kenobi how?"
"The Force will guide us," Qui-Gon said firmly. Delian sniffed in irritation.
"Well, if that's all we've got, we may as well write Kenobi off for good," she tossed off snidely. Qui-Gon regarded her calmly, much the same way Kenobi had when he was somehow amused by her. With Kenobi she could shrug it off; with the Jedi Master's cool blue eyes boring into her, she actually felt a little guilty.
"You don't believe the Force will help us find Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon questioned mildly.
"All I'm saying is look where it got him," Delian rebuffed, trying to fix an insolent gaze on the Jedi and finding it nearly impossible to do without backing down. She snarled and fiddled with Obi-Wan's lightsaber to look as busy as possible, though she watched surreptitiously as Qui-Gon carefully leveraged himself to the ground in a kneeling position, closing his eyes and settling his large hands loosely in his lap.
Please help us find him, she added silently, despite her misgivings.
Hey, anything that'll help, she justified to herself. You're out a mechanic, after all.
She sighed quietly and slouched against the tall crate at her back, wondering how in the hell they could possibly find Kenobi. Damn it! If only she hadn't given him his transmitter back they could just track …
A thought struck her, something that Shmi had said, and she blurted, "Transmitter!" at the same time Jinn's eyes snapped open and he growled, "Slave traders," in a voice that actually made her shiver. She blinked it off and forged ahead excitedly,
"Kenobi has a transmitter! We can go to the block in Eisley and find out if he's still registered somewhere! He should still have the same one – slavers use 'em to keep track of slaves' ownership history." She could have kicked herself for not thinking of it before – though, to be fair, she'd never had a slave before Kenobi.
Qui-Gon nodded in grim acquiescence. It was a slim hope – if Obi-Wan had been taken off planet, all they might end up with was the name of his buyer. Not a lot of hope in a galaxy of hundreds of planets. "We'll start out at first light."
OOOOOOOOOOOO
Reviews are much appreciated! Thank you!