Chapter 4. ~Naboo redux~
Naboo, again. Neither Jedi were enjoying this trip, for this time contrasted poorly with their first journey. Acrimony had reared its ugly head.
Obi-Wan had been quite unreasonable. Qui-Gon's mouth tightened. Worse than unreasonable – he had dared to question his master and to question the Force's will. Neither was forgivable.
His treatment of Anakin Skywalker was abominable. The galaxy's salvation, the Force's own "Chosen One" was a small nine-year-old boy torn from the only life he knew – a terrible life, to be sure – but the only one familiar to him. He should have been welcomed with open arms by the entire Order.
Instead he had been called dangerous by the Council – and by Obi-Wan.
This boy blazed in the Force; a beacon amidst the parched landscape of Tatooine where they had been forced to land to secure repairs to their ship, damaged in the escape from Naboo.
A disgruntled padawan had remained behind on the ship, keeping an eye on and company with four young ladies, one of them supposedly the Queen, and several guardsmen. Disgruntled, because as a Jedi on a mission, he could not properly entertain himself with a young woman, had one been willing and of legal age?
Drat the boy and his jokes about triplets – if there was one thing he was certain about, it was that Obi-Wan Kenobi was no womanizer – and no true servant of the Force, as it had turned out.
Anakin Skywalker had burst like celebratory fireworks over the Jedi master's senses at first meeting, nearly overwhelming him. Kind, compassionate, giving – the Force could not have chosen a better one to be its emissary. Obi-Wan's midi test on the boy's blood served only to confirm what Qui-Gon already knew.
This boy would save them – those now trapped on Tatooine, the Jedi Order, and the galaxy itself.
He had been half-drunk with eagerness to bring the boy before the Order. And enraged when he had.
"He shall not be trained."
Mace's words had fallen like acid rain.
"I shall take him as my padawan learner."
Obi-Wan's shock and anger had flashed through the Force like a lightning bolt.
"A padawan you have already, Qui-Gon."
Yoda's rebuttal had been a slap in the face.
Every cell in Qui-Gon's body demanded the boy be trained. For all the Order's prattle about sacrifice in the service of the Force, no one – not the Council, not his padawan, not even his friends – was willing to put into practice what they swore in principle. They would not sacrifice Obi-Wan Kenobi at the altar of the Force's will.
Of course it was unfair to Obi-Wan that he was not ready for promotion but fairness mattered not at all.
Only Anakin did.
Even now, on the way to Naboo, the silence between the two Jedi was sharp and sullen.
Qui-Gon fumed, still, and Obi-Wan sulked like a petulant child. Only Anakin behaved as if nothing was wrong, throwing sideways looks at the padawan and adoring smiles at Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan was a thundercloud that sought to obscure the sun of those smiles with frowns of discontent. It rather surprised the Jedi master that the Queen and her handmaidens remained blissfully unaware, or too tactful, to inquire as to the sour mood that Obi-Wan trailed in his wake.
If bursts of girlish laughter were intermixed with a young man's soft voice, out of sight, it was easy to dismiss such as any evidence that Obi-Wan was perfectly well behaved around others. Around Qui-Gon or Anakin he was not, for the pure civility he displayed towards Anakin surely only concealed contempt and dislike, ill-considered jealousy and spite – behavior beneath a man and a Jedi both.
How could he once have so misjudged the young man as to think him a padawan without par, a thoughtful young man with a bright future? Qui-Gon was too disgusted to even feel sorrow – for with his behavior, Obi-Wan was beneath contempt.
At least he had Anakin.
The journey back to Naboo was uncomfortable, not to say distressing, for Obi-Wan on far too many levels.
Qui-Gon and he had barely exchanged a civil word since the landing pad on Coruscant. Tentatively offered smiles of reconciliation were ignored. Any glance or word directed at Anakin, no matter how innocuous, earned a silent glare from his master and a smirk from the boy.
He avoided the company of them both as much as possible and said as little as common courtesy required. Only around the others did he dare to relax, even a little. They were aware of the strain between the Jedi, but out of politeness did not refer to it or take sides.
At night he lay awake pondering this massive unbridgeable breach between them. At the moment it no longer mattered what the cause or who owed whom an apology. Jedi forgave and forgot, made amends and moved forward. Healing did not come by admittance of or avoidance of blame, but by forgiveness.
Qui-Gon had taught him this. Why now, when it was most important to honor this, did Qui-Gon rebuff his attempts at reconciliation?
Anakin, as well, but the boy did not know better.
Obi-Wan regretted some of the words he had said. Honest words, his personal assessment that coincided with the Council's, spoken not from personal hurt but insight through the Force.
He did not regret the speaking out, for Qui-Gon had always encouraged him to speak his mind, but that he had spoken without notice of the boy's presence, spoken words not meant for his hearing. Words that had hurt and confused the boy.
That he had hurt another, even unintentionally, hurt almost as much as Qui-Gon's withdrawal.
He had tried to catch Anakin's eyes, to speak with him and make amends, but Anakin would only turn hurt eyes and quivering lips to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would once more be skewered by shards of anger and hurt radiating through the all but closed bond.
When Qui-Gon would turn aside, unable to bear the sight of his padawan any longer, Anakin would smirk.
So Obi-Wan became a silent wraith in their presence. Only with the crew and the Queen's entourage was he able to interact without fear of repercussion. In their presence, he regained hope and optimism that all would yet be well.
Yet he knew all too well the signs. Something bad was coming.
It would make their first arrival on Naboo seem like a perfectly peaceful welcome, the poison gas and attempts on their lives notwithstanding.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath of clean, sweet air. Naboo pleased his senses, vibrant with the Living Force he found so enchanting even if currently polluted by the occupying Trade Federation with its prison camps.
Soon it would be cleansed, should all go well. It had so far.
Their arrival on planet had not been momentous. They had easily evaded the Trade Federation's ships, sliding through the blockade without incident. It was a promising beginning, somewhat mirroring the recent fragile and tentative truce between the two Jedi.
All seemed harmonious once more. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had made one tentative step towards reconciliation, but it was a fragile peace. It would hold until their return to Coruscant.
The Gungans and the Naboo gathered in a loose knot near a copse of trees bordering a vast meadow as they awaited the return of scouts. The day was mild and the breeze barely ruffled the Jedi's cloaks. A peaceful day, a beautiful day, a day that might see the liberation of Naboo depending on the scout's return and the success of whatever plan they devised.
Anakin stood by Padmé's side, gazing at her with adoring eyes. The sight made Qui-Gon smile. The young Queen had captured the boy's heart upon first meeting. Her friendship had done much to sooth a confused, lonely boy's hurt at Obi-Wan's words and actions – even if no one admitted it, all knew that Obi-Wan's selfishness and pride at being supplanted was the cause.
Qui-Gon wasn't sure he could ever forgive that, not entirely, even if Anakin displayed signs of doing so. Such behavior should be reprimanded, perhaps censured, once they returned. He doubted the Council would go so far. It would no longer be his responsibility.
Obi-Wan would not have another chance at failure in his soon-to-be-ex-master's eyes.
The formerly laughing-eyed padawan was now quite the chastened young man, focused finally on the mission ahead, not his personal disappointment.
He had said little since his apology in the swamps, once more on Naboo. Though his eyes would occasionally stray to the boy and away; it seemed that Obi-Wan had come to accept that it was the Will of the Force that placed Anakin at Qui-Gon's side when Obi-Wan had not yet left it.
That tacit acceptance had softened Qui-Gon's admittedly harsh thoughts on Obi-Wan over the last few difficult days. He could now see that the boy had been trying to make amends for his behavior ever since he had come to realize how deeply he had hurt both Qui-Gon and Anakin, and proven himself enough of a man to admit it.
After the harsh words between them – between the first time on Naboo and here a second time - their tattered relationship was finally healing, now that Obi-Wan had reconciled himself to the way things had to be. Obi-Wan had been the one to breach the relationship and thus it had been right it had been he who reached out to mend it. They would part ways without rancor or bitterness, for he would leave Qui-Gon's side after this mission.
Whether he would remain with the Jedi or not was no longer the Jedi master's concern.
Given time and sufficient maturity, Obi-Wan would be a fine knight. Given a new master, since it was clear he would not be granted his trials, he would achieve that.
Failing that…Obi-Wan was the sacrifice the Force demanded on behalf of its Chosen One. Kenobi be damned, when the future of the Chosen One was at stake.
This was not how Qui-Gon had wished this to end. He had hoped to cut the braid himself; send Obi-Wan off to his future and welcome Anakin to his side. The Force wished otherwise.
He absently brushed away a tear sliding down a cheek.
The tear evaporated, replaced by a fond smile as he caught sight once more of the boy, chattering away, smiling, and eager to assist in the liberation of Naboo.
Anakin Skywalker. That was who was important. Anakin, only Anakin.
After successfully infiltrating the tunnels to Theed hangar, things had taken a definite turn - for the worst.
Pilots, those liberated from the camps by the scouts, scattered for their fighters while the ground assault teams headed for the massive doors, to split and take various routes to the palace. They never made it.
A mocking tattooed figure calmly blocked their way, the warrior Qui-Gon had battled on Tatooine, so he knew this was no ordinary warrior, no Neimoidian nor hired gun. Implacable determination and pure contempt infused his posture.
He waited, waited for the Naboo – and the Jedi – to make the first move.
Now in the middle of one battle, two Jedi had a second battle to fight. Cold certainty told him this was where the true fight for Naboo lay. Perhaps it was the cockiness, the sense that the Zabrak gave the appearance of strutting while not moving a single muscle except for his lips, bared in a smile dripping with arrogance and conceit.
Worry twisted through the Jedi master's gut, not for himself, but the small boy that accompanied them.
He had to protect Anakin!
"Hide," Qui-Gon sternly demanded and reinforced that with a finger. His tone left no room for dispute. Anakin quickly scrambled away though his concern for the Jedi master and Padme roiled the Force, sufficient to attract Obi-Wan's sideways look. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut.
With one last look over his shoulder, Qui-Gon turned his attention to the mocking figure ahead, but it was not so easy to turn all his attention away from Anakin.
If he were honest with himself, Qui-Gon's first instinct was to let his padawan and the Sith do solitary battle while he remained to guard the rest of the party. If Obi-Wan were outmatched and were to fall in battle - as seemed inevitable in such a scenario - such was the fate of a Jedi: something to be mourned, but something that would have to be. A Jedi's duty was to the defenseless, not to the preservation of his own life.
Regardless of instinct, his primary duty was to protect the Queen, and if that duty conflicted with his duty to protect the boy, he had no choice. Battling this malevolent Zabrak was protecting the Queen, so battle the menace ahead was what he would do.
So it was that duty took Qui-Gon away from the planned battle to take the palace and reclaim Naboo for the Naboo, to fight a dangerous and unknown adversary.
Despite himself worry for the boy gnawed at his mind, a distraction he could not afford but a distraction he could not dismiss. A child no matter how gifted in the Force did not belong in the middle of a battle. A child was to be protected. The Chosen One was still a child, untrained, not yet a Jedi.
His senses quested out; found the boy ensconced within one of the fighters! Worry intensified. That was hardly safe and hidden. The droids would surely target the ships as well as the Naboo.
How could they – he – leave the Chosen One there, unprotected?
Because he must. Because duty demanded he go against every instinct in his body.
He felt himself fall into rhythm with his padawan. Side by side they dropped their cloaks in unison as if choreographed for a dance; side by side they ignited their lightsabers and side by side they moved forward. Anticipating the move, Qui-Gon struck as Obi-Wan somersaulted over the Sith's head to attack from the rear. Their tactic failed; the Sith was well trained and easily the equal of the two Jedi. He was younger than Qui-Gon, and far more experienced than Obi-Wan.
For a brief moment, the Jedi felt a prickle of fear. He released it to the Force. The Jedi would prevail, for the Jedi had to prevail.
In that moment, a kick knocked him backwards and he fell to the ground. Obi-Wan rushed in to protect him; the Sith retreated. Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction; Obi-Wan made up in sheer determination what he lacked in experience and he was taking the battle to the Sith. Then realization set in.
The Sith was retreating on purpose, trying to separate the Jedi. He would kill Obi-Wan first, then take on Qui-Gon one on one. The outcome was uncertain, and should Qui-Gon fall, too, both Anakin and the Queen would be in danger.
No! The Jedi master regained his feet and chased after the combatants, now battling out of the hangar.
Qui-Gon spared a quick look back; Anakin was still safe in the ship, unharmed as yet, but the ship was moving, firing, taking down droidekas. He felt a rush of pride laced with fear. He almost turned back before moving forward to join his padawan. However, his motion drew Obi-Wan's eyes, and in that moment the Sith caught the padawan with a kick to the chin that sent him flying to the slick floor where he slid into a wall.
Qui-Gon winced, he could tell it hurt even without feeling Obi-Wan tamp down the pain.
Get up, Padawan! He mentally urged his apprentice with a quick glance. We can finish him, corner him, if you move – now! As if sensing his master's command, Obi-Wan regained his footing to help herd the Sith against bare air, a possibly fatal fall at his back, and feinted, leaving an opening for Qui-Gon to dart in and press the attack. It would have worked against a lesser opponent.
Calling on the Force, the Sith somersaulted to a metal grid walkway in the vast chamber, and the Jedi immediately followed without thought, one to either side. The fight raged on, where a fall could be fatal, one misstep away.
Now, more than ever, keeping focused was keeping alive.
In that moment, Qui-Gon's mind wavered for a fraction of a second, sensing something from Anakin. The boy was in the grip of strong emotion, desperation and wild joy…in danger, and the Jedi's focus was split between the battle before him and the boy somehow in space far above him. Little was left for his padawan; their rhythm grew uncoordinated.
And the unthinkable happened.
Anticipating, incorrectly, his master's move to distract the Sith, Obi-Wan's attack from behind was instead perceived and his rush deflected by the unexpected kick that sent him flying backwards over the edge, plummeting into empty air.
Qui-Gon chose to battle on alone.
He could not and would not help Obi-Wan; he had to trust him to save himself. Qui-Gon took the fight to the Sith.
Alone.
And fell to his blade.
Alone.