Note to readers: I do not like as a rule author's notes regarding how the author believes the story isn't very good, or well polished, or whatever. Don't call attention to its flaws, in other words, since all stories have them.
I must say, however, one reason for the delay in updating here is a certain trepidation/unease that I got carried away and that the story needs a good overhaul/pruning. Alas - I have not the energy to undertake such a task, and the story is far more advanced on another site.
So instead I'll thank those who like my rambling style enough to read, and read some more.
Chapter 10. Past and Present
Jinn and Kenobi: fallen on Naboo.
That was the second of two rumors.
Rumors were largely speculation built upon a kernel of truth. None knew that better than Jedi. So when rumors circulated that Padawan Kenobi had been disowned by his master and left the Order in disgrace, none truly believed it. What the kernel of truth in that rumor was, however, ripe for speculation.
Thoughtfully – for they were never malicious – Jedi discussed and analyzed and sought explanations.
It was a known fact that Jinn and Kenobi had returned from Naboo after being ambushed – sidetracked to a far rim planet – and returned with both the Queen of Naboo and a small boy that had caught Master Jinn's fancy.
It was a known fact that all three had been together before the Council and that all three had left together – not a one of them looking pleased.
It was a known fact that Jinn and Kenobi – and the boy – had left once more for Naboo, escorting the Queen back home after her appeal to the Senate.
Equally as mystified as to the first rumor's core truth were Kenobi's close friends.
Upon his return, Obi-Wan had sought his friends out to unwind, explaining with a soft laugh that his master was somewhat preoccupied with his latest "find." All had assumed he meant the boy; none had asked. Qui-Gon's fancies and enthusiasms were taken in stride by all who knew the Jedi master - as long it didn't sting, bite, or scratch.
He had been relaxed and at ease as he dutifully spun out his story, his "all too routine" mission. His ever so casual mention of the "poisoning incident" was so droll that each of them hiccupped with laughter as Obi-Wan pantomimed holding his breath with attendant facial expressions.
"We fought our way to the ship's control room, taking out droid after droid. I picked off the last few as Qui-Gon did his best to melt his way through the doors." He paused for dramatic effect, or so they had first thought, for after a moment's silence and twirling of his drink in his hand, he had added, "Then two droidekas showed up."
His friends were all dutifully impressed, waiting for the grand pronouncement of their fate – something highly entertaining, no doubt. Obi-Wan only grimaced and solemnly looked at them, setting his drink on the table. "And then we, er, cut and ran."
They all had waited for the joke, but he had offered nothing more; his very silence had prompted them to prod him for more details. Predictably, it had been Garen who first spoke.
"You let them run you off?" He guffawed.
Obi-Wan had known he was dropping a bombshell. He had merely nodded and offered dryly, "They had shield generators."
That had put a bit of a damper on the conversation: no wonder the two Jedi had decided to end the battle. Shielded droidekas were unheard of.
"So much had already gone wrong on this mission that prudence dictated we find a way to communicate with the Council. So we split up and stowed away on the invasion craft."
In a clear attempt to reestablish the light mood that had evaporated, Obi-Wan downed his drink, grinned, and embarked on an elaborate and highly unlikely story of how he had snuck aboard a droid transport and cut loose once on the planet. By the time he had sheepishly relayed how he had once more shorted out his lightsaber in the Naboo swamps and had had to resort to a lot of running and dodging to gain his master's side, they had all been smiling again.
Garen had hooted with laughter at Obi-Wan's embarrassment: this was not the first time he had made such an error.
Bant had first giggled, then quite properly chided Obi-Wan for his inattention despite his protestations that he had had to dive rather precipitously into the water; Obi-Wan had flushed just as he had when Qui-Gon had lectured him on the same.
He had flushed even brighter at Garen's dig in the ribs when he had been describing the endless wait on Tatooine, for the first thing Garen had picked up on was that Obi-Wan had been cooped up with three very bored young women and had had some very pointed questions on how he spent his leisure since Siri and her master were still away on a mission that had already lasted a few months.
Picking up on Obi-Wan's discomfort, Bant had smacked Garen in the arm and changed the subject. No matter what Garen thought, Siri and Obi-Wan had never been more than friends, even if once years past they might – just might – have contemplated more.
The next contact they'd had with him was his quick com call to cancel plans – he was returning to Naboo. Obi-Wan had sounded grim and had been rather subdued. When pressed if he was okay – he had looked tired and dispirited – he had rubbed a couple of fingers over his temple and admitted he was not at his best.
Rumor shortly after had it that Qui-Gon had taken the boy as his new apprentice – that Obi-Wan had been set aside in favor of this unknown child.
Now a new rumor had reached the Temple.
After Masters Yoda and Windu had left for Naboo in a hurry, the entire Council and a healer had departed as well. Jinn and Kenobi had fallen in defense of Naboo's Queen.
Whether either or both lived was the speculation.
You still have much to learn…he is capable…I need you, Padawan…your fault, your failure…my padawan no more.
The padawan whimpered in his sleep. His damaged mind reached for the Force but felt nothing. He was cast adrift in a vast sea of uncertainty and pain; no anchor, no rudder, no oars – tossed upon the heaving waves.
Though normally unaffected by motion, seasickness struck with a vengeance.
Vaguely he was aware of a damp cloth wiping his mouth clean, a hand griping his, even a soft murmur in his ears.
A spear of lightning crashed into his mind and he jerked with the shock of it, trembled with the thunderclap that followed. Lightning, thunder, rain…the storm pounded him but there was no shelter in this sea, nothing to shield him.
Nothing.
"Shh, Obi-Wan." Mace sighed and patted the padawan's mouth once more. He kept trying to vomit, but seemed to have little to rid himself of. Every so often he would screw his eyes shut and moan, weathering another attack of some kind. Mace had no doubt this was an effect of the torn bond, for the Naboo healer had already run enough tests to confirm it was not a purely physical reaction.
Mace had seen plenty of pain and suffering in his years. All Jedi did. He had thought himself inured to it, but this – this was so needless, and inflicted by one of their own on one of their own – or so it seemed all but certain.
He made up his mind.
There were times some aspects of the Code just had to be ignored and this was one. He didn't have Obi-Wan's permission, but he could not stand to see the boy in such pain and had little doubt a conscious Obi-Wan would not object.
As he had earlier, Mace attuned his mind to Obi-Wan's so that he could enter it and erect a Force barrier, his destination seen as a pulsating void sparking with brilliant actinic splashes of vivid color, a shimmering curtain of frenzied energy that hid what lay beyond. This was not just unexpected – it was, in fact, unheard of. Bonds were usually sensed more as bright tunnels while they existed, only to fade to non-existence after a peaceful dissolution
Like a warm blanket over a chilled body, Mace smoothed a cool velvet drape into place and anchored it with mental strands meant to last but a short while, then watched, one hand resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder.
Gradually, Obi-Wan's breathing became calmer and the flickers of distress on his face began to ease.
"That's good, Obi-Wan. Breathe easy now, son."
It had been a long time since Mace had sat by an ill padawan, a very long time. He hadn't liked it then and he didn't like it now. He didn't like to think of any of the Jedi as vulnerable, just as prey to illness and injury as any other living being.
He wiped a thumb under Obi-Wan's eyes, wiping away moisture.
Force, how he hated this.
Halfway across Theed young Anakin Skywalker was beaming. As a reward for his part in the battle, Padmé had told him he could join her entourage as she toured the emptying camps and visited those rebuilding Naboo.
The boy who longed for appreciation, hungered for affection, lived for adulation from someone besides his mother basked in her smile, the cheers of the Naboo they visited. The slave boy would yet prove a hero: punish the wicked and reward the kind. He had seen his path to glory with one look into Qui-Gon Jinn's mind.
Nothing – and no one – would be allowed to stand in his way.
A part of Qui-Gon's mind knew these images were different – no longer of red mist or horns, nor of eternal oneness in peace.
These images were of life, not death.
Images tumbled one after the other – faces – smiles – frowns. There was no need for them to make sense, for the story they told was the story of the people central in his life.
Always it came back to one: a smooth cheeked face with laughing eyes…shocked eyes… pained eyes…fading to dullness…then fading, fading away entirely.
How strange.
As the images faded, light slowly seeped through his eyelids, prompting him to awareness. A dull pain…yes, that was his wound, healing. A soft rustle, ah, someone at his side.
Too small, too moist, too few fingers…if one considered clawed digits fingers. Yoda. Again, Yoda.
His eyes opened and he let them roam around the room; let them reacquaint him with his surroundings. Hospital, yes – on Naboo, yes. At his side, where Obi-Wan should be – sat Yoda, with Mace standing over at the window.
But no Obi-Wan.
His brow creased. Obi-Wan, yes…hurt, too, he vaguely remembered.
"Awake you are – wish something to drink, hum?" A small green hand brought a glass of water to his lips.
He sipped gratefully. The liquid felt cool and refreshing, reviving his parched throat.
"Obi-Wan…when can I see Obi-Wan?" He let his hand rest on Yoda's.
Yoda blinked and gently moved the glass to the bedside table. "Resting he is."
"That's not a real answer. You said before he wasn't badly hurt…?" He rubbed his throbbing head. "I want to see him."
The two Jedi remained silent. They didn't want him to see Obi-Wan, or Obi-Wan to see him!
There had been some silly talk once before – about the bond. Damaged, hadn't they said? That explained the headache, but Force, it was going to get a lot worse if he didn't get some answers shortly.
Between the drugs and what all, he no longer knew what was real or what was dreams. Obi-Wan probably knew…the boy always knew. That's what the dreams were telling him. Together, they would sort it out as they always had, unless the Sith had done more damage to Obi-Wan than Yoda let on. It was so blurry…all so blurry.
He glanced at Mace. Despite all their differences, despite all their arguments – and how both loved a good argument over a glass of Corellian whiskey – they had been friends for decades. Of all people, Mace would understand.
"Mace, please. I need to see him, see that he will be fine. He's been at my side for over ten years, why keep us separated unless he's far more injured than you're telling me?"
Mace and Yoda exchanged glances. This sounded like the Qui-Gon they knew of old, fretting over his padawan. Normally it was all but impossible to keep the Jedi master and his padawan apart when one or both were in the healers, unless pure medical need intervened.
Times like this were the times Mace was glad he had no hair, otherwise he'd be pulling it out right about now.
"Qui, I'm not sure either of you is up to this right now." He didn't know whether to laugh or slap his old friend next. "Your Force suggestion will not work on me you old man. I'm no more weak-minded than you."
He sighed. He really didn't know what was going on, but he could feel the sincerity in Qui-Gon's beseeching gaze. Maybe the Sith had twisted Obi-Wan's memories, maybe drugs and concern for a child had clouded Qui-Gon's first return to consciousness.
He had no right to pass judgment, not yet, anyway.
Yoda gazed silently at both Jedi, offering no cues. Despite his fondness for the boy, the old master had deemed Mace to be in the best position to decide how to approach Obi-Wan.
"He has been in a lot of pain, but I suppose if the healers agree and he feels up to it ..."
It would have to be Obi-Wan's decision, but in his heart, Mace wasn't so sure the boy was ready yet to face Qui-Gon.
Since the Force barrier had been erected a day before, Obi-Wan was calmer, no longer in such awful psychic pain, the kind that twisted his gut and upset his equilibrium. He seemed, if anything, resigned and fatalistic, all but silent; he had been willing to listen when Mace spoke, but he had never once asked about his master or the boy.
There was no doubt in the Jedi master's mind that Obi-Wan was trying in his own way to come to terms with all that had happened. Was he ready to be in the presence of the man at least partially responsible for his mental trauma?
Obi-Wan had never yet flinched from his demons.
Until now, most of Obi-Wan's demons had been internal, self-created ones: insecurity, anger in his younger years, a need to achieve perfection, a reaction to external stimuli and first manifest in his middle initiate years.
He had learned how to name them, and in so doing, disarm them. He would never be free of them, but he would no longer be controlled by them.
In part because of his demons, he was one of the most forgiving people Mace had the privilege of knowing. Though he saw the flaws of others, he saw his own as well. To accept his own, he had to accept them in others and to forgive himself, he had to forgive others.
This made it impossible for the young man to hold a grudge or to seek retaliation. If anything, he held onto guilt, for his pain turned inwards, always, not outwards.
"I'll see if he feels up to a visit." The flare of hope in Qui-Gon's eyes didn't make Mace feel any better. Something told him this was not a good idea, not now, at least, but it was not his decision to make. It therefore came as no surprise when Obi-Wan passed a hand over his eyes, then nodded his agreement.
If Qui-Gon wished to see him, he would oblige.
Wearily, as if the weight of the galaxy were upon his shoulders, he slid out of bed and into slippers, took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders. Only his white face betrayed him. He would do as Qui-Gon wished, but he wasn't looking forward to it.
Mace didn't blame him.
Things were shifting in the Force, shifting back. The call went out – and a young boy went on alert.
"I think Master Qui-Gon needs me," he announced, and took off running, a guardsman in pursuit.
Slow steps brought Qui-Gon's eyes to the open doorway, to see Obi-Wan pausing there as if reluctant to enter.
"Master Jinn." He stood there, neither advancing nor retreating, clutching his robe with his fingertips, Mace behind him. "Master Windu said…how are you feeling?"
He supposed he felt much like Obi-Wan looked. Pain had edged lines in both their faces; he felt it in his bones as he saw it in the young man before him. What each had survived, each could recover from.
"Not bad, considering."
He looked at Mace, silently asking with his eyes that he leave just as Yoda had, let them have their privacy. Mace merely crossed his arms and scowled. His only concession was to move to the window and turn his back. Clearly, it was all he would give Qui-Gon, who had not the strength to argue. He switched his attention back to his padawan, the man who had been his companion for so many years.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon smiled and beckoned him forward and to a seat. His eyes searched the boy's face. No, not a boy; not anymore. Pain and grief had aged him.
He fumbled for words, suddenly at a loss as he remembered at least part of that scene in Council – setting aside one padawan, Obi-Wan, for another, the "Chosen One." It had been what the Force had demanded of him, but he had not handled that well, he was beginning to realize.
A gulf of misunderstanding and ill chosen words had opened between them. He saw it only now, in Obi-Wan's eyes and his stance. He had been so righteous in his indignation and frustration that he had not seen it until now, and Obi-Wan had been just as blind, unable to see the Force's hand guiding them all.
Now, after so many years, it felt like they were two strangers, awkward and uncertain in each other's presence. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."
There was no better way to put the past behind them, to start afresh. I am sorry. Three magical words, just like I forgive you.
And there was so much to be sorry for – all the ravages of the recent events that were coming back to him. It was as if in trying to save his life, Obi-Wan had poured far too much of himself into Qui-Gon. The once bright presence in the Force was weak, so diminished now.
"I still want to take this, you know." Qui-Gon fumbled to touch the braid; tried to smile past the lump in his throat.
"No," Obi-Wan whispered, eyes suddenly gray as he scooted back, out of reach. "I'm sorry, but you've forfeited that right."
His words, even the movement away, was like a slap in the face. "Obi-Wan!"
"You're not my master! Remember?" Obi-Wan stood up and almost backed away, stopped only by the bulk of Mace Windu who had suddenly materialized behind him.
"Padawan! Mind your manners."
"I. Am. .Padawan." The words were very precise. "I don't know what I am anymore, but you chose that I not be your padawan. Your choice, yours alone. Remember what you always kept drilling into me – make a decision and stick by it? Well, you made your decision, Master. It's done."
Obi-Wan's outburst shocked Qui-Gon; this behavior was out of character and out of line both. It did not show proper respect and was spoken – like a petulant boy, not a Jedi padawan.
"Not another word, Qui-Gon," Mace warned, grasping Obi-Wan's arm as if fearing the young Jedi was about to collapse. "He's right…."
The planned reprimand died on Qui-Gon's lips. He was right, at least in part, at least for now. Sometimes the truth did hurt and Obi-Wan's words were the truth, for the memory was even now knocking at his mind – he could feel it, pounding away behind his skull.
But some things were even worse than truth. He had seen it with his own eyes.
Obi-Wan had never flinched away from him before. He now stood, hands clenched into fists at his sides and eyes down-turned. He had spoken his truth as he saw it, as Qui-Gon himself had taught him. He wasn't startled, or angry, or even upset. He was hurt and lost. Lost…and it was Mace he now turned to. Not Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon bit his lip and slowly nodded. It was done; they were done.
"I know."
It had all started there in the Council chamber, but even then, all might not have been lost. He had owed Obi-Wan an explanation and had given him nothing but anger – anger really directed at the Council, but anger more easily sent at his padawan. Obi-Wan would have understood, in time, had his master spoken to him how the Force had guided him to Anakin, not away from Obi-Wan.
They might have parted on far different terms.
It really was too late; now that he had finally realized his share of the error - far too late. They might build a bridge of reconciliation between them, someday, but they could never rebuild the one that was lost. It was shattered and irretrievably lost.
He swallowed hard. "I hope someday…."
There was a swirl of some unnamed emotion in those changeable eyes – one that often signified a softening of an unyielding stance into understanding. A dulcet "forgive me" would accompany a step forward as the boy would sink to his side and bow his head…
…and the boy moved not a step towards him.
He defies you still! Unbidden, unsummoned; sour reality crept up his throat. He will not offer understanding for his heart is swollen with putrid bile. Mercy and compassion have been swept aside and now resides within only bitterness.
"Someday," Obi-Wan echoed, but the words were as hollow as the man he had become. So different from the bright, smiling presence heading towards him, Qui-Gon saw as well as felt that now. And knew that Obi-Wan knew it as well.
Master…Master Qui-Gon, I'm coming….
"I think…I should not have asked to see you." Qui-Gon closed his eyes. He could not bear to see this young man before him, and remember what he had been like before jealousy and anger had stripped him of his once-bright soul. It hurt far more than anything he had felt in a long, long time.
Was betrayal next? Was not repudiation of his master – betrayal? Yes, his soul hissed, yes, his mind cried. Force no, his heart hoped not. Obi-Wan! Just as the other one had – was this one following the same path: a once bright future leading – into darkness?
Or had the darkness always been there – hidden beneath layers of deceit and innocence?
Before he could even begin to analyze these newfound thoughts – or were they fears?- he was distracted, for a thud of running feet preceded the entry of one panting and red-faced boy. The fair one – the child of the Force – the one who would never betray him. Not this one. Not the "Chosen One," this gift of the Force now in his custody.
"Master Qui-Gon, why are you allowing him to upset you?" Anakin threw a baleful look at Obi-Wan and spit, "Why did you come here? Haven't you hurt him enough?" He threw himself into Qui-Gon's arms.
"Yes, yes I guess I have," Obi-Wan agreed in a whisper.
"It's okay, Ani, I'm fine, really, now that you're here." He comforted his padawan, hands smoothing the boy's tears away. Obi-Wan no longer existed, banished by Anakin's very presence.
Obi-Wan sighed and turned away, a grateful look given to Mace for his hand on his arm. Unseen by all, Anakin raised his head and then his hand as a smirk crossed his face.
Mace caught Obi-Wan just before he hit the ground.