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TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter twenty-five: he cast no shadow
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Chained to all the places that he never wished to sayBound with all the weight of all the words he tried to sayand as he faced the sun he cast no shadow
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Qui-Gon wearily resisted the urge to pace the small corridor, though his palpable agitation sent unsteady tremors through the space around him like shockwaves. As a well-trained Jedi Master, he was extensively trained in the ability to remain calm in almost any situation, but events that had transpired of late had strained even his generous capacity well past its breaking point. Although, considering that he was quietly leaving behind the cold body of a woman he had slain due to his lack of control - regardless of the fact that she had nearly destroyed Obi-Wan - "well past" his breaking point may in fact be putting it far too lightly.
He ignored that nagging memory determinedly; the only thing that mattered to him at present was that his Padawan with whom he hadn't spoken in months and had parted with poorly, was dying on the other side of the door the Healer before him was very resolutely keeping him from going through.
Again and again he had asked, begged, even demanded to see his Padawan; again and again the answer remained unchanged, as it had every time he asked: "I'm sorry, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi is not to have any visitors. His condition is grave and any disruption of his care and solitude could lessen his ultimate chance for survival."
The clinical words were spoken kindly, but didn't diminish the tense ache that had wrapped around Qui-Gon's broad chest since before he had even collected his Padawan's failing body from Delian Ani-Suru on Tatooine.
"Please, Master Healer." Qui-Gon held up a large, unthreatening hand, callused palm out pleadingly, his tired voice wavering. "I just need to see him. I shall of course stay out of your way and not interfere with Obi-Wan's treatment."
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," the Jedi Healer repeated softly, less formal but no less implacable. The Healer bowed slightly out of respect for Qui-Gon's rank and backed through the open doorway behind him; as it had countless times already, the unforgiving door to Obi-Wan's cabin slid closed on the discouraged Master, remorselessly cutting off Qui-Gon's opportunity to even glance in on his wounded apprentice. Qui-Gon instinctively lifted a fist to slam against the silently mocking barrier but he pulled back before his frustration got the better of him, before the skittering shreds of his control were allowed this base form of release. Resolutely restraining himself, he instead turned his aching body to trudge back to his own cabin, his self-chosen area of exile.
Days that felt like lightyears had only increased the depth of the tight, craggy lines of worry creasing the Jedi Master's tired ice blue eyes. They had successfully rendezvoused as quickly as possible with the Council ship bringing a Healer for Obi-Wan a few days before, and though Qui-Gon had haunted his Padawan's bedside up until that point, he hadn't seen his apprentice since he, Delian, and Anakin Skywalker had transferred with Obi-Wan to the Council-assigned vessel and the Healer now responsible for Obi-Wan's care had gently ushered him out of the Padawan's room with a stern command that he rest as well. The Healer had even stopped in to check on Qui-Gon later, frowning and hmming disapprovingly at the strain Qui-Gon had clearly put himself under after leaving Coruscant with a not fully healed lightsaber hole in his belly.
This was ridiculous. He should be with Obi-Wan. He had seen no more of Obi-Wan on the Council vessel than he would have if he had remained on his ship with the pilot that had accompanied the rescue party so he could bring Qui-Gon's ship home since Qui-Gon was supposed to be "resting."
Unfortunately, resting was not something Qui-Gon Jinn had been able to do well of late, and especially when the health of his Padawan was at the forefront of his mind - and there had been many, many days during the training of Obi-Wan Kenobi wherein Qui-Gon's ability to relax had been put to the test. Obi-Wan had, rather shockingly, turned out to be by far the most accident-prone Padawan Qui-Gon had even known and had, Qui-Gon was certain, contributed more than his fair share of the long grey strands now streaking liberally through the Jedi Master's chestnut hair.
Qui-Gon's weary steps brought him to his own door but he stole another glance at Obi-Wan's closed door down the passageway. Regardless of the worry Obi-Wan had constantly - albeit unintentionally - caused him, Qui-Gon had always been there, waiting by his apprentice's bedside when the young man was sick or injured or caught in one of the nightmares the Unifying Force occasionally used to send visions to his prescient Padawan. Qui-Gon had always been there, waiting, comforting, holding if necessary - at least, when Obi-Wan was younger - soothing and loving the young man he had watched grow into a confident, capable Jedi. Yoda and the Council may frown on pride and love, but Qui-Gon couldn't help but be proud of his apprentice for Obi-Wan had earned it multiple times over. How could his Master not feel a father's adoration and pride in one as remarkable as Obi-Wan?
And how could he not feel a father's anguish when he was ordered to rest instead of sitting by his ailing little one? Of course he wasn't able to rest, so instead he paced his small cabin awkwardly, steadfastly ignoring the pull in his belly of his wounded skin and muscle straining to keep up the pace he was demanding from his exhausted body.
He could venture out into the lounge where Delian and Anakin would most likely be if he felt that company would distract him from thinking about Obi-Wan, but he preferred to be alone. He certainly wasn't hiding from the pair, though he felt he could hardly be blamed if he were: the surly Corellian pilot glared sharply at him every time she caught his gaze - which she worked purposefully at doing - and Anakin had not stopped chattering about being one of the best podracers in the galaxy, though with each boast the boy shot a nervous glance toward Obi-Wan's cabin door. This reaction elicited a small smile from the Jedi Master; Qui-Gon truly regretted missing the conversations that must have passed between Anakin and Obi-Wan during the Padawan's stint working in Watto's junk shop. Though it had been too achingly long since he'd heard even a shred of his Padawan's remarkably dry wit, Qui-Gon actually found he could easily imagine the things Obi-Wan might've said; it wasn't difficult, considering that Qui-Gon had spent over a decade with the young Padawan.
Qui-Gon had tried to glean information from Anakin about Obi-Wan's stay on Tatooine, but the boy had very quickly and skillfully for one so young changed the subject, directing the conversation back to his own podracing merits and how he was looking forward to being Qui-Gon's new Padawan. Qui-Gon wanted to kindly assure the child that he also was looking forward to Anakin's training, but one memory of Obi-Wan's scored, damaged body was enough to make Qui-Gon want to swear off training another apprentice ever again.
As he waited impatiently, Qui-Gon wondered what Obi-Wan would say to him when he awoke, but he was not to find out that day of their return journey to Coruscant. Obi-Wan slept on, or at least was silent.
OOOOOOOOOO
Delian was prowling the passageways, glaring at him every time he was in range, and though Qui-Gon tried to keep focused long enough to give Anakin some basic training and pointers for meeting with the Council members once they arrived at the Temple, he found it difficult to present anything more than a lackluster front while he continued to wait anxiously for news of Obi-Wan.
At the moment he was, to his shame, only half-heartedly correcting Anakin's stance as the boy fumbled with the unfamiliar grip of a lightsaber handle. Staying well out of range of the sizzling saber - they hadn't had a practice one to use - Qui-Gon directed Anakin to carefully swing the saber in a gentle arc while still firmly grasping the weapon. Qui-Gon shouldn't have been surprised that an amazingly high midichlorian count didn't automatically mean the boy would be an expert duelist, but it exasperated him nonetheless that he was correcting Anakin for the same error for the fifteenth time.
Anakin, for his part, was equally irritated.
"What's wrong with the way I'm doing it?" he demanded, waving the lightsaber in the air in childish annoyance. "It works just as well this way!"
Qui-Gon thought he caught Delian smirking out of the corner of his eye; the Corellian had been "helpfully" assisting Qui-Gon with Anakin's tutelage, and they had reached a point where Qui-Gon actually fervently wished she would just go back to glaring at him rather than voicing her own observations.
"Yeah, he looks like he's doing fine to me," Delian piped up innocently, a smirk twisting her lips into an approximation of a naively questioning smile as she repeated Anakin's unhappy query. "What's wrong with the way he's doing it, Qui-Gon?"
"He's doing the maneuver incorrectly and his footwork is off, as I have already pointed out numerous times." Qui-Gon fought to keep the snap from his tone, but tension and worry over Obi-Wan continued to bleed down into his stomach and make his guy clench sickly in anxiety. The Jedi Master straightened upright with some effort, swallowing back a gasp as a dozen aches made themselves known. "Let's take a break, Anakin," he suggested quietly. "Go to your cabin please and practice the meditation techniques we worked on this morning."
The protest was immediate. "Aw, Qui-Gon - "
"Anakin … " He was so weary …
"But, Qui-Gon - !"
Delian unexpectedly stepped in to show the Jedi an ounce of mercy for which he would be forever grateful. "Do as Qui-Gon tells you, Anakin. I'm sure Obi-Wan mentioned how important it is to listen to your master." When Anakin hesitated still, dragging his small foot across the decking, the Corellian's tone sharpened, though not unkindly. "Move it, shorty," she commanded, allowing no room for disagreement. Anakin frowned but stumped off to his cabin, mumbling to himself.
"Thank you," Qui-Gon said softly, feeling wretched at dismissing the boy and yet grateful for the reprieve.
Delian shrugged noncommittally, a blonde curl wrapped around her finger tightly. She released the strands and immediately twisted them back up, the only sign of nervousness other than her random and restless pacing she had shown around Qui-Gon thus far.
"It wasn't for you," she said bluntly. "I like the kid, but he was starting to get on my nerves." The smallest smile graced her wan features, undercutting her brusque words. "I'm just not in the mood for enthusiasm right now," she admitted. "You know?"
He did. It was hard to do anything but think about Obi-Wan and wonder how he was. "I'm getting too old for this," he murmured, feeling the bands of stress winding around his broad shoulders.
Delian misunderstood his comments, thinking the Jedi was referring to Anakin's slow progress with a lightsaber. "I'm sure it's not easy keeping after them day after day," she demurred agreeably, "and Kenobi probably really put you through the wringer when he was training too, huh?"
Qui-Gon considered her statement in surprise. "Obi-Wan?" He allowed a small laugh at the implication that Obi-Wan had been anything other than an eagerly obedient Padawan - for the most part. As Qui-Gon's apprentice had grown older he had formed his own opinions and interpretations of the Code, but he had remained respectfully agreeable to his Master – except for the decision Obi-Wan had made to remain behind on Tatooine.
"Force, no," Qui-Gon clarified with a small smile. "He tried so hard I don't think I ever had to repeat a lesson."
The Corellian's blonde eyebrows arched. "Really? He was such a spitfire when I … uh … borrowed him for awhile." She was immediately offended when Qui-Gon's own disbelieving expression caught her eye. "What? I needed a good mechanic." Delian smiled contemplatively, remembering her various interactions with Obi-Wan Kenobi. "And he was very good."
"Yes, Obi-Wan has always been rather mechanically inclined," Qui-Gon muttered dryly, deeply relieved to be back on speaking terms with the pilot, with someone who was sharing just a small fraction of the tortured pain of waiting for word on Obi-Wan.
"Obi-Wan," he repeated softly. Just saying his Padawan's name aloud eased the smallest shards from the block of ice lodged in his chest, and he felt a little better, felt that maybe a tiny glimmer of hope could start to warm his chilled heart.
"So, Kenobi was a model student, huh?" Delian mused, dusky eyes clearly showing her skepticism. "I find that really hard to believe with the mouth he's got."
Qui-Gon sighed wistfully, the truth springing to his lips before he fully considered what he was admitting. "It wasn't that, really," he refuted honestly. "Obi-Wan just … " The Jedi Master paused, searching for the right words. He finally settled on a gentle, "He always tried so hard to be the perfect Padawan. He always wanted to have the right answer or know exactly what to do in any situation, and if he didn't know, if he didn't have the answer, it crushed him." Heaviness settled across his shoulders as he thought back on the awkward teenager who had come into his life when he'd been so convinced he hadn't needed anyone. Obi-Wan had very quickly proven him wrong.
"He had been rejected so many times before, he just … he couldn't bear the thought of it happening again," Qui-Gon finished quietly, glancing toward the closed door of Obi-Wan's cabin.
Delian levered herself out of her chair, tossing a darkly cynical look at the Jedi Master. "I bet he just loved that you left him behind, then, didn't he?"
"Did he say that?" Qui-Gon asked curiously, surprised that his Padawan would interpret what had happened that way when it had been Obi-Wan himself who had been responsible.
"No, Anakin did." Delian leaned against the console she'd just been sitting at and crossed her arms over her chest. "And speaking of," her brow furrowed, "I think you should talk with Anakin about the night Kenobi disappeared from Mos Espa. He really needs to get it off his chest."
Qui-Gon nodded distractedly. "Of course. And I didn't choose to leave Obi-Wan there," he added defensively. "It was his doing. He made the arrangements to stay and work off our debt so I could get the queen of Naboo to Coruscant."
"Hm. How noble," Delian snorted, shaking her blonde head. "And look where the hell that got him."
Qui-Gon frowned at the Corellian's blatant skepticism and wondered if for her it covered some of the same guilt he was feeling. "Obi-Wan makes his own decisions; I was grateful for his assistance, even if the end result wasn't what we had anticipated."
"Really?" Delian leaned forward, looking interested despite herself. "What happened?"
The image of a leering Sith flashed before Qui-Gon's eyes, followed by a series of other memories from that horrible day: a crimson-bladed lightsaber drilling through his torso as he watched in horror. The handmaidens grieving over their dead queen. Panaka dying before his eyes as the security captain tried to take the Sith by surprise.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "We failed," he said simply.
"So you left Kenobi there to die for nothing?" Delian charged, anger sliding back into her voice.
"We had no way of knowing what the end result would be," Qui-Gon protested wearily, sinking into a chair nearby. "Staying was his doing; he arranged it without even giving me a say in the matter."
"His doing?" Delian scoffed resentfully, looking away in irritation; down the corridor, at her hands, anywhere but at him. "You don't think he blames you at all?" She shook her head disdainfully. "Then why did he ask for you when I finally found him, beaten to a pulp and worse? Why did he scream your name and blame you for leaving him there?"
"There was nothing I could do – " Qui-Gon interrupted frostily, her words gnawing at him. "Obi-Wan understood the risk – "
Delian shook her head, short blonde curls spilling over her forehead. "No, Qui-Gon," she broke in shortly. "I don't think he does. At least, not anymore," she added bitterly. Her gaze sharpened, focused on him. "I told him once that he was property to be bought or sold, told him he would probably rot on Tatooine. But I'm not the one he hates, Jinn." A chilly half-smile slid across the Corellian's expression, and Qui-Gon shivered at the cold words that she uttered calmly as she strode out of the hold:
"You are."
oooooooooo
As they took his soul they stole his pride…
oooooooooo
Obi-Wan was awake.
At one time, Qui-Gon would have known this through the training bond they'd shared as Master and Padawan, but that bond had been severed when Qui-Gon's horrid impalement at the hands of the Sith had nearly killed the Jedi Master. Now there was silence where he used to feel Obi-Wan's Signature in the Force and sense the thoughts and feelings the Padawan either chose to share or couldn't help sharing, depending on the situation.
Now, there was only silence where the Bond had been, but Qui-Gon still knew that his Padawan was awake.
Qui-Gon knew this because he could hear him screaming.
He was still being refused access to Obi-Wan's cabin and though Qui-Gon wanted to barrel past all in his way to see his Padawan, Delian's words - you're the one he hates – and his own guilt at allowing his Padawan to remain behind ate at him and kept him from defying the Healer's orders. When he closed his eyes, Marjhan's final shocked expression drifted through his mind, adding to his shame and remorse.
Qui-Gon bit his lip, rolled onto his side, and tried to shut out Obi-Wan's scorching cries.
Finally he could stand it no longer, the words echoing in his ears but not his mind where the Bond used to be; he dressed quickly and threw on his robe, but didn't bother scrabbling for the tie for his hair. He strode down the corridor to Obi-Wan's cabin, palming the door controls and pushing past the objecting Healer at Obi-Wan's bedside without a word.
"Master Jinn, please," the man protested. "You'll just agitate him. I've been ordered not to let you see him!"
Qui-Gon ignored him, though the Healer's curious words registered in his brain as something he needed to look into later. For now, all of his attention was focused on the pathetic figure huddled on the bed, wide-eyed and anguished despite the Healer's continued attempts to pacify him. Obi-Wan's mouth was trembling, open wide enough for his frenzied shrieks to slide past his lips. Qui-Gon hadn't been able to make out the words from his cabin, and he fervently wished he hadn't heard them now as he had little doubt as to whom his Padawan was referring to, especially after Delian's pointed words.
"I hate him!" Over and over, unforgiving and anguished. "I hate him!"
Qui-Gon approached the bed quietly but without hesitation, the Healer trailing him anxiously without stopping him; he had probably realized that something had to be done to calm Obi-Wan down, and none of his previous efforts had met any success.
"Oh, Force. Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed painfully, surveying the wretched young man. Gently the Jedi Master undid the restraints intended to keep Obi-Wan from harming himself, and tenderly, trembling as his nerves continued their unappreciated effort to see how tightly they could stretch his control before it snapped completely, summoned what healing through the Force that he could muster to send to his Padawan's abraded wrists where the restraints had rubbed the reddened skin raw as Obi-Wan had struggled against them. His large hands easily encircled the thin wrists in his grasp, and as soon as he touched the Padawan's hands, Obi-Wan ceased his mindless screaming, falling eerily silent as he shakily turned dull grey eyes to him. Qui-Gon lovingly cupped the side of his ashen face gently, using the corner of his robe to wipe the crimson blood from Obi-Wan's mouth and chin from where the Padawan had bitten into his bottom lip.
Receiving no opposition from his shuddering Padawan nor the nervously hovering Healer, Qui-Gon carefully eased his stiff frame onto the narrow bed next to Obi-Wan. He had always towered over his Padawan, and this fact was blatantly obvious as he gathered Obi-Wan's emaciated frame into his large arms.
"Shhh, hush," he murmured soothingly, pulling Obi-Wan against his chest. "I'm here, Obi-Wan. I'm here. Shhh," He repeated this litany above Obi-Wan's hitching breaths, ignoring the way his heart struggled to keep from shattering at the damage that had been done to his Padawan. He rocked his apprentice as gently as if he were a child, ignoring the pain the movement set off in his midsection, slowly carding his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair as he tried not to aggravate Obi-Wan's numerous injuries.
After a short time Obi-Wan calmed, still leaning into him but twitching within the circle of his arms and Qui-Gon could tell that the apprentice's raging emotions were warring within him.
"What is it, little one?" he asked calmly, never ceasing the movement of his fingers against Obi-Wan's scalp, bumping over slowly healing scabs buried beneath thick ginger hair. Obi-Wan hesitated, his pulse thudding against Qui-Gon where the Jedi Master had curled the apprentice into his arms, the frantic rhythm betraying the lack of emotion in Obi-Wan's hoarse voice.
"You died," he whispered finally, "you died and you left me … they took my memories … sold me … and you left me to her… "
"No, Obi-Wan, no," the Jedi Master murmured, his warm breath stirring the long strands spilling over Obi-Wan's forehead. "I didn't die. I'm here. I'm right here with you."
"I can't feel you," Obi-Wan choked sorrowfully, his thin frame quavering. He sounded so lost, so hopeless.
"I know," Qui-Gon soothed. "I know and I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I came for you as soon as I could."
Obi-Wan stayed silent, his bony fingers spasming restlessly against Qui-Gon's arm where he clasped Qui-Gon's robe sleeve tightly. Qui-Gon could feel him trembling, and he surmised quickly and painfully what was troubling his Padawan – after all, he'd been shouting it when Qui-Gon had entered his cabin.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's mouth tilted up into a rueful smile that brimmed with the heartache he felt. "It's okay. You can say it," he prodded gently. "You can say it, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan looked up at him from the enclosed circle of his arms. His eyes were red-rimmed from tears that were sliding silently down his bruised cheekbones and his pained gaze locked onto Qui-Gon's face; the Jedi Master was absolutely still, awaiting his Padawan's words.
"I hate you," Obi-Wan finally whispered softly, his weary head dropping back to his chest exhaustedly. Qui-Gon immediately resumed threading through the young's man hair as Obi-Wan breathed again, "I hate you."
"I know, little one," Qui-Gon murmured, feeling helplessness creep back into his soul.
Very, very gently he rested his cheek on Obi-Wan's hair and sighing, he gripped Obi-Wan's shuddering body tightly, rocking and soothing. "I know."
OOOOOOOOOO
Lyrics for 'Cast No Shadow' belong to Oasis.