TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
chapter twenty-seven: we all fall down
She felt free, the biting chill of early morning air getting under her senses and shaking the last vestiges of sleep from her mind and body. Kest, it was cold, but she was so pleased to be standing here outside her grandmother's home, watching the last of the morning stars fade away in the slow sunrise.
Delian stood quietly, unusual for the excitable and often impetuous Corellian. She would stay here with her clan; though she bitterly rued leaving her parents behind, a life of wandering was not what she wanted for herself. If her parents chose that for themselves, well, fine for them. They could visit worlds where no one else would voluntarily go, helping and healing and doing whatever it was they did. How they could leave this, the beauty of Corellia, for that mess Coruscant, Delian didn't know or care. All she knew was that she was going to make her own path. She would stay here.
Delian watched the sky lighten, the sadness in her heart at leaving her parents ebbing away as the sun warmed her skin. They were happy doing what they loved to do. Now it was her turn to be happy.
The door closed softly behind her and Delian turned a bright smile to her grandmother as the old woman approached her slowly.
"Good morning," Delian murmured cheerfully, her voice hushed in reverence for the beauty of the slowly-rising sun.
"Good morning, child," her grandmother returned softly, settling next to her granddaughter and placing a warm hand on Delian's arm. "What are you doing up so early?"
Delian shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking about being here, and how exciting it's going to be." She sensed her grandmother's mood shift at her words, a tense anxiety that descended somberly over them. Delian felt her own chest tighten in response and a thick dread filled her ears with a rushing noise that almost obscured her grandmother's next words.
"Delian, sweetheart, there's something I need to tell you … "
She awoke slowly; not with a startled gasp of breath or a scream, but Delian still found her chest was heaving as she pushed herself into a seated position on the bed.
Offworlder, her grandmother had called her gently.
She had left Corellia that day.
Delian dropped her head into her hands, digging her knuckles into her eyes tiredly. Maybe she would see if there was any change in Kenobi's condition - the Jedi Healers here at the Temple had taken one look at him and carted him off to their medcenter - the Healer's Wing - and though Delian had been to see him there a few times already, there was little else she could do for him. The Healers had decided the best thing for Kenobi was to keep him sedated and asleep while they worked through the damage. Though they did their best to appear calm, Delian was apprehensively certain she detected a resignation with the way they treated Kenobi.
Like they knew he would never be the old Obi-Wan Kenobi ever again.
Delian wished she didn't have the same feeling.
oooooooooo
Sidney told me something once
When he came and sat down next to me
He said "beware of the beautiful ones
Because they'll never let you rest in peace … "
oooooooooo
Obi-Wan Kenobi was bouncing on the balls of his feet as Qui-Gon, smiling, straightened the already neatly-pressed front of his apprentice's robes.
"I'm nervous," Obi-wan grinned cagily. "Is that normal? Is it normal to be nervous? It is, isn't it?"
"There is no emotion, there is the Force," Qui-Gon intoned with a smile, tugging on Obi-Wan's thin braid lightly. "Yes, of course it's normal to be nervous about your Knighting," he affirmed conspiratorially. "Just don't let Master Yoda know. He hasn't been nervous for five hundred years..."
Obi-Wan laughed, the easy sound slipping from his lips as his eyes sparkled. "It's a good thing you can tell me all the Jedi secrets then… "
"That's why I'm here," Qui-Gon nodded wryly. "Twelve years of my life devoted to keeping you out of trouble and sharing all the secrets the Council keeps from everyone. Well," the Jedi Master made a show of glancing at the wall chrono. "I think it's time to go, don't you?"
He guided his Padawan into the room where the others waited, proudly taking his place near the Council members at the front of the room. Master Yoda started speaking and Qui-Gon wanted to pay attention, but he found he was content to simply watch his apprentice, the young man he had helped bring to this point.
Eventually, familiar words grabbed his attention and he refocused eagerly.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are hereby awarded the rank of Jedi Knight."
Mace Windu's warm voice carried over those assembled in the chambers: Masters, Knights, Padawans, Initiates… all gathered to witness and confirm Obi-Wan Kenobi's successful promotion to Knighthood. It had been a rocky road for Obi-Wan, but today the young man's smile gleamed in his thin face as he bowed his head to accept from Master Yoda the final words of the ceremony.
Qui-Gon couldn't keep back the rush of pride as he watched, running a thumb along the freshly shorn Padawan braid he clutched in his large fingers. He bumped over the yellow bead and thought of the day he had woven it into Obi-Wan's ginger hair, how proud he had been, the joy shining in Obi-Wan's young eyes …
"Qui-Gon, wake up."
The emotionless voice that roused him from his wandering daydreams belonged to an old friend of his, a fellow Jedi Master. They had trained together and they had trained Padawans together: Jaren's current Padawan was approaching her Trials and Jaren himself was considering application for a seat on the Council.
Qui-Gon's current Padawan was nearly catatonic and Qui-Gon was under suspension for "suspicious activity" - a nice way of saying that the Council hadn't finished compiling his list of crimes yet.
Qui-Gon opened his weary eyes, dreading the return to the waking world, wanting only to go back to his manufactured dreams where all was right and they were happy, at peace.
"Good morning, Jaren," he sighed softly. "How are you today?"
His old friend keyed in the code at his door and the forcefield blocking the detention area shimmered and disappeared. Qui-Gon rose from the bench he had fallen asleep on and picked up his folded robe, unfurling it carefully and sliding his arms through the long sleeves.
"Master Yoda wishes to see you," was all Jaren said, but his eyes conveyed his sorrow at the fall of his friend. Qui-Gon followed silently through the halls, eyes forward. They passed the lift that would take them to the Initiate's apartments and he thought of Anakin. They passed the open doorway to the Healer's Wing and he strained fruitlessly for a glimpse of Obi-Wan.
The air was somber in the Council chambers, though all of the seats were empty except for those belonging to Yoda and Mace Windu.
"Know, we do, about the sensitivity of young Obi-Wan's condition," Yoda informed him without preamble. "Therefore, keep this meeting private, we will."
"Thank you, Masters." Qui-Gon murmured calmly, bowing respectfully.
"You won't be thanking us when we're through," Mace interjected chidingly. "We have much to discuss."
There would be no skirting around the issue, then, no forced display of camaraderie that no one was feeling. They were here to deliver his sentence, and nothing else.
"Qui-Gon Jinn, it pains us to call you before us this morning," Mace announced quietly, firmly formal. "But your recent actions have left us no choice."
Qui-Gon forced himself to keep his attention directed at Mace, to not notice out of the corner of his eye the disappointed drooping of Yoda's long ears and the sadness lingering below the Council member's calm expression.
Mace continued, "You disobeyed a direct order to locate Master Sifo-Dyas and we are still unable to find him. I don't think I need to emphasize the severity of this situation; with the possible threat of a Sith Lord looming over us we need to ensure that every Jedi is accounted for. We cannot risk losing anyone to the Dark. Your refusal to locate Master Sifo-Dyas may very well have jeopardized his safety."
"The closest, you were, to his last recorded location," Yoda interjected. "The best chance, you had, at finding him quickly."
"We cannot allow you to make decisions based solely on emotion, Qui-Gon." Frustration was so close to bleeding through in Mace's voice that Qui-Gon almost allowed himself to feel a certain irony at the other man's words.
"Partly our fault, this is," Yoda admitted, one clawed finger tapping idly against his chair. "Allowed you to leave the Healer's Wing before fully healed, we did, and take into consideration we did not the emotional impact of your injuries."
"Therefore," Mace leveled a severe look at Qui-Gon over his steepled fingers, "we have decided to place you on a leave of absence effective immediately. You will be leaving in the morning for the planet of your choice - somewhere you feel you'll be able to fully recuperate."
The truth slammed into Qui-Gon with a shock that almost dropped him to his knees. They feel guilty, he realized. Force, they don't know what I did …
"Are you sure that is wise, Masters?" he managed to mumble weakly. "With the possible re-emergence of the Sith … "
"No good you are to anyone in your present condition," Yoda disagreed, not unkindly. "A brief respite, you need, to reorient yourself within the Living Force. Feel that it is far from you, we do, and know, we do also, that your center is grounded there. Distance from the Living Force, put you in danger would."
Put me in danger, it already did, Qui-Gon thought faintly, a little ashamed at the relief that was slowly trickling through him, weakening his limbs with a release of the tension he had been carrying with him since his second trip to Tatooine. They don't know.
"What about Anakin?" he asked numbly.
"We will enroll him in classes here at the Temple," Mace replied reassuringly. "He has a lot of catching up to do. If he does well, we will assign him as your Padawan once you return to the Temple."
It was better than Qui-Gon could have even hoped for and his knees felt weakly treacherous, threatening to pitch him forward at the foot of Yoda's chair. "And Obi-Wan?"
"Address young Obi-Wan, we must." Yoda's heavily-lidded eyes gazed at Qui-Gon solemnly and Qui-Gon's heart clenched in understanding; he knew that the old Jedi Master shared with him a soft spot for Obi-Wan and he perceived from Yoda's expression that what was to follow would not be pleasing nor reassuring.
"His body heals slowly, though scars will remain," Qui-Gon admitted aloud what the Council members already knew, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. Concern for Obi-Wan, yes, but also a sudden anxiety associated with the uneasy feeling that he was getting away with something. If "getting away with it" means reliving her death every minute, he thought tiredly.
"Runs through us deeply, concern for Obi-Wan does. Affected him terribly, what has happened to him," Yoda murmured. "Feel that a leave of absence not enough would be for him to recover."
Qui-Gon was confused. "But if I'm to be sent away, who will watch over him?"
Mace and Yoda exchanged a glance that increased Qui-Gon's anxiety tenfold. "We do not believe that a master is what Obi-Wan needs right now," Mace explained gently. "It is the decision of this Council that you are to be released as Obi-Wan's master. Padawan Kenobi will be reassigned to Bandomeer to heal and adjust to his new place within the Order."
It took a moment for the Council member's words to sink in. "Obi-Wan … is not to be a Jedi?"
"We do not feel that Obi-Wan will ever sufficiently recover from his ordeal enough to be effective as either a Jedi Knight or Master. It is for his own sake," Mace was firm. "For his own safety."
"You can't be serious!" Qui-Gon protested angrily, a churning mixture of guilt and sorrow roiling within him. "To take this from him, after everything he's already lost - it will kill him!"
"Look at him, Qui-Gon," Mace interrupted firmly, a hint of anger flashing across his face before the Jedi Master smoothly pulled his expression back into calm. "He's not well, nor can he be trusted with the lives of others. "
"I can't look at him," Qui-Gon refuted bitterly, eyes flicking down to his scuffed boots and back up quickly, "because you won't let me see him."
"Well, you'll get your chance," Mace answered grimly, "because you get to tell him of the Council's decision. We have decided it will be fitting restitution for your actions."
Qui-Gon wanted to believe he had heard wrong, that Mace and Yoda couldn't be serious. He had tell Obi-Wan the stinging decree of the Council?
"He's too weak," Qui-Gon protested finally. "Too fragile. Now is not the time to throw the decimation of his dream at him."
"No," Mace shook his head, easily disagreeing. "He needs more than help, Qui-Gon; he needs a chance to make a better life."
"This is ridiculous!" Qui-Gon snapped, pulling his cloak around himself in preparation for stalking out of the room. He didn't want to hear any more. "I won't participate in this cruelty!"
"Force you to participate, we will not," Yoda replied, but there was a steel to his grave voice that showed Qui-Gon the small Master was not simply being kind. "Your only chance to see young Obi-Wan, this is," Yoda continued quietly. "Leaves tomorrow, your transport does and grave is Obi-Wan's condition still. Access to him for you only will be granted when you bring him news of this decision."
Anger surged through Qui-Gon suddenly and he desperately fought to force it down before the Council members sensed it. How dare they put him in this position? They were wrong: Obi-Wan would not gracefully accept this reassignment, this stripping away of his desire to be a Jedi. And by announcing that he had to be the one to deliver the news to the now-former Padawan, the Council indeed had chosen the punishment that would break Qui-Gon's spirit.
Sorrowfully, he knew it would break Obi-Wan as well.
oooooooooo
And if you are gonna cry, don't cry for me
'cause from here on the ground, the truth I have found
Is we all fall down …
oooooooooo
He stood before her, frightened but trying not to show it, nervous apprehension biting into him painfully. Her eyes trailed over his body approvingly, and the gleam in her eyes sharpened.
"Strip," she commanded languidly.
"I'm sorry?" he asked hesitantly.
"This was part of the deal, little Obi-Wan, or did you forget so soon? I give you something, you give me something? Those were the terms. No backing out now, lover." She smiled. "don't make me be persuasive."
He paled, reaching for his shirt slowly. "Of course not, my Lady."
The material slid from his shoulders and Marjhan held up a hand. "Stop. Turn around."
Slowly he obeyed, baring his back to her and she sucked in a delighted breath. The lash lines that crossed his back intersected neatly, perfectly aligned strips of bright red set deeply in his tanned skin. "Well done," she murmured, openly admiring the wounds.
"I'm glad you think so," Obi-Wan sighed; the fight had left him at some point during his earlier whipping and the best he could manage were the tired words, lacking any real emotion in them.
"I do," she affirmed coldly, her tone icy tone warning him that he was crossing a line. "Now, continue."
Obi-Wan hesitantly reached for his belt, a crimson flush stealing up his neck and across his cheeks.
"Slowly," Marjhan interjected. "But don't make me wait."
"No, ma'am," Obi-Wan agreed nervously, reflexively running a hand over the hypo marks across his forearm; he knew how long Marjhan could make him wait if he didn't please her. It was hell. He slid out of his breeches and shorts and straightened before her, shifting awkwardly closer at her gesture.
"Very nice," the Lady smiled approvingly, drifting a hand over the flat plane of his bare stomach. "You really are coming along quite well."
Obi-Wan knew that this particular game was designed to humiliate him and it certainly was working. "How long do you wish me to stand here?" he asked quietly.
"Until I'm bored with it," Marjhan replied easily. "And when I am, you'll be punished for your disrespect. You can look forward to that while you stand there."
The endearing blush he sported drained from his cheeks. "That's not necessary, my Lady."
"Sadly, I disagree," Marjhan said, sweetly regretful. "And I would like you to choose an appropriate punishment." She held up a hand to forestall his comments. "And if I am not satisfied by the punishment you choose, I'll select a different one for you and administer your choice to someone else far less deserving. So consider carefully."
The glare that crossed his features showed enough of the spirit in him she so desired that she almost took him right then and there. She swallowed back the temptation but it was so difficult to keep her hands from roaming over his naked body when all was displayed for her pleasure, and she couldn't resist reaching for him.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, voice straining as her fingers danced over the welts across his back.
"Why?" she smiled greedily, looking up at him, her face close enough to his stomach that she could smell him, a heady mix of sweat and soap that sent waves of warmth crashing into her. Her tongue darted out hungrily to make tiny circles over his ribcage, tasting the salty sweetness of his tan skin. Why not give into the temptation now, she mused idly, feeling desire crawling through her body. If he was to be punished later, he could be unusable for days …
"Because I love you."
From her uncomfortable chair by the Jedi's bedside, Delian watched Kenobi carefully, and wondered why he was crying in his sleep.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon knocked lightly on the doorframe to the private room in the Healer's Wing that had been granted to Obi-Wan and entered the young Jedi's room quietly. Seated in a chair near the window, Obi-Wan glanced over at him, his shadowed expression so unlike and yet so like the grim visage that had surveyed his Master as Qui-Gon set off for the small town of Mos Espa so many months ago. But where there had once been love and respect in Obi-Wan's young face, there now resided a bleak despair and barely-covered anguish.
Qui-Gon was bitterly aware of Mace standing behind his shoulder, trying to appear as if he weren't monitoring - eavesdropping - on his words to his former Padawan.
Cracked lips moved, releasing a rasping acknowledgment. "Master Qui-Gon. Master Mace."
Force, could he do this? It was tearing him apart, cutting into him like … like his blade had skewered the evil woman who had done this to his Obi-Wan.
"Obi-Wan," he tried again to speak, struggling over the words, fighting to keep his resentment at Mace and the Council from darkening his voice. He needed to talk with Obi-Wan, needed some sort of closure before the Council sent him off to do penance for a crime he would commit again in a heartbeat if necessary.
He cleared his throat, burying his emotion deep, deep below the surface. "I need to leave you for awhile, Padawan. I will be withdrawing from active service for a time."
Whatever he reaction he had expected from Obi-Wan, it certainly wasn't the quiet acceptance he received from the younger Jedi.
"Yes, Master Qui-Gon, I understand," Kenobi murmured, though his grey eyes ached as his gaze wandered back toward the window. The long fingers of his right hand wandered over to rub his left forearm absently; the hypo scars there, Qui-Gon knew, were hidden beneath the sleeve of the medcenter robes Obi-Wan wore.
"Obi-Wan, there is more," Qui-Gon forged ahead before his resolve failed him, before the stormy anguish in Obi-Wan's eyes could unravel his nerve. At one time he would have been glad for the strength of his friend Mace Windu at his back; right now he rued the other man's presence bitterly. "At this time, you are not to be assigned to a new master." He drew a deep breath. "The Council would like to reassign you to Bandomeer until further notice."
Bandomeer. The name of a planet every Initiate dreaded - being dispatched to Bandomeer meant that an Initiate had not been selected by a master for training and would spend their years of service to the Jedi as a farmer, cultivating crops and growing food for the Jedi and their various charity outreaches.
Color drained from Obi-Wan's face as the implication of Qui-Gon's words sunk into his tired mind.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, so damned politely that Qui-Gon wondered if perhaps the young man had slipped into shock. Mace stepped forward, shouldering past Qui-Gon with an unveiled warning in his eyes to be very, very careful.
"Obi-Wan," Mace said gently, but both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan noticed that he hadn't used Obi-Wan's earned titled of Padawan, and for just a moment an instinctive glance passed between the former master and apprentice, worry thickening the air in the small room. Qui-Gon's hand settled on Obi-Wan's shoulder comfortingly but the other Jedi flinched away from his touch. Qui-Gon stepped back uneasily.
"You have experienced a lot of hardship," Mace explained, "You've been through things no one should have to endure and you cannot just bounce back from that. The Council has concurred that you need a reprieve before and if you resume your Jedi training."
Bloodless, now, Obi-Wan's stricken face locked onto Qui-Gon's, disbelief and betrayal shining in his eyes. "If?" he repeated softly.
Friendly, fatherly, Mace laid a firm hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder that the young man couldn't shrug away. "We would like you to spend your time on Bandomeer meditating, and considering whether or not the path of a Jedi is still one you would choose to follow. In one year, the Council will reassess your merit to resume your former position as Padawan, but until that time you will perform light duties on Bandomeer and attend sessions with soul healers there."
Qui-Gon shifted edgily, unhappily angry as he realized that Mace was giving Obi-Wan a kernel of hope the Council had no intention of following through on - they would not reinstitute Obi-Wan's Jedi training. Obi-Wan would stay on Bandomeer.
"I … " Obi-Wan trailed off, uncertain, but his guard was down enough that Qui-Gon could see the moisture building in his eyes and the Master's throat clenched tightly.
"We'll leave you to process this next step in your healing," Mace announced, turning to glance at his old friend. "Qui-Gon, is there anything you'd like to say to Obi-Wan before you depart in the morning?"
Qui-Gon gazed at his former Padawan, at the broken shell that stared hopelessly back at him. "There are so many things I need to say … " he trailed off helplessly. "Can we have a minute?"
Mace shook his head. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon, no."
Everything hurt. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan one final time and quietly pressed the tangled mess of Obi-Wan's Padawan braid, shorn off by Marjhan and taken from her body by Qui-Gon, into the former apprentice's hand. Obi-Wan glanced down at the frayed braid and back up at Qui-Gon, confused.
"Goodbye, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly.
OOOOOOOOOO
Anakin and Obi-Wan were playing some sort of game in the common room that included many small pieces; Qui-Gon figured it was better to just avoid them altogether, as there seemed to be some dispute over the rules. Even though Obi-Wan had been promoted to Knight, he still dropped by his old master's apartments - now shared with Anakin Skywalker - as often as he was able.
Qui-Gon Jinn was truly happy….
Qui-Gon knew he was dreaming, but it was so much more pleasant here.
oooooooooo
But her eyes shouldn't have blurred my vision
I know that she, oh she,Was a beauty queenAnd if you are gonna cry, don't cry for meCause from here on the groundThe truth I have foundIs we all fall downYes we all fall down"Beauty Queen," Ben's Brother
oooooooooo