In the Hands of Virtue and Terror
A/N: Sooo, long break or what? This is really only half the chapter, but it was giving me a hard time, not to mention I was in a creative slump and had serious writers block. Belive it or not, late in August I had an idea about how to get the story moving again, but there was still so much going on I wanted to incorporate... it got messy, and I started work again. So, sorry for the hiatus. However, this is the first story I've ever taken a long break on and came back to, that has to count for something :)
So, sorry about the short chapter, the second part will hopefully be on it's way sooner! After I get past these two gummy parts, it should be easier to keep the story flowing.
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Chapter 6: This Way to Progress
Eight up, eight down: that was the number of steps it took Obi-Wan to cross the room lengthwise. If the floor was grass, he would have trodden it to dust long ago. The temperature had dropped, so he wore Qui-Gon's cloak with his hands clasped behind his back, keeping the long hem from catching his feet. It was more for comfort than practicality—something about the familiar garment was calming. Little else about the situation was. It had been five days since the explosion, five days since Dr. Shehlal paid them a visit. Even worse, Dr. Lemleshor, who had been so forth coming before, had shut up as tight as a blast door and would only discuss medical matters. From the pad he could glean that there had been a major riot, ending in someone setting off some stolen explosives, culminating in a dramatic shift in political power. The politician Mustally was now on the news almost constantly, obviously in a leading role. Beside him there was often another, more ominous figure. He was a giant of a Lenoia, with small eyes and a forward lean that gave the impression he was always pushing ahead. They seemed to be on the same side, but the dark looks the tall man aimed towards his colleague made Obi-Wan doubt it would last.
All this, however, was not nearly enough to make the young Jedi pace like a caged animal. Obi-Wan knew there was nothing he could do to change what was happening in the larger world, and he did is best to except that. What set him stirring was Qui-Gon's fitful recovery. One moment he would be stirring, the next as still and silent as when they first brought him in. It was terrifying, how confused the jedi master could be. Obi-Wan would be sitting quietly, or eating lunch when the older man would cry out, or jerk and begin mumbling. The padawan stopped counting how many times he had to repeat to Qui-Gon that he was safe, in a hospital, and needed to stay still because he was injured. Usually he would quiet down, though Obi-Wan could not tell if it was merely because of the tone of his voice or if he actually understood. Every time it started Obi-Wan desperately hoped this time Qui-Gon would remember something, and each time he did not the young man felt as if he were slipping ever closer to breaking down in tears. Even if he felt secure enough, which he didn't, Obi-Wan had no chance to meditate because of Qui-Gon's restlessness. The only alley left towards his sanity was to allow himself to pace.
Obi-Wan halted mid-stride when he heard raised voices from the hallway. Quickly stepping closer, he pressed his ear to the door in order to hear what was happening. There was yelling, and the distinct noises of a scuffle that ended with the sliding sound of someone being dragged away.
Obi-Wan sighed and turned around to lean against the door with his eyes closed. This type of event had happened every day since the explosion. The sick ward had never been a noisy place, but each day he could hear more of the patients being lead away, the nurses had fewer visits to make. The sounds of regular, busy hospital life slowly died away. It was rather foreboding.
When he opened his eyes, Obi-Wan was shocked to find Qui-Gon sitting up in bed and staring at him. For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan knew what the saying "his heart leapt into his mouth" felt like. As his mind slowly recovering from the shock, the young man wondered when his master had sat up—perhaps when he was listening at the door? But most unsettling of all was the stare he was receiving from Qui-Gon. The man was looking at him with distrust and suspicion, not to mention he was completely silent. This had never happened before, and for a moment Obi-Wan was at a loss how to proceed.
"Master…" he quietly called, "Master… are you awake?"
At the sound of the young man's voice, Qui-Gon's expression slowly shifted to one of wary confusion. Obi-Wan slowly crept towards the bed, quietly repeating where they were and what injuries Qui-Gon had sustained. With every step, his voice lowered in volume until he stood completely silent at his master's side.
Qui-Gon's eyes roved over his features as if desperately searching for something, but finding only incomprehensible things. The young man found his own face beginning to mirror his master's obvious distress. Hesitantly, Qui-Gon reached out and gently ran his fingers over Obi-Wan's hair, his brow and down his nose, mapping out each feature. Obi-Wan felt his breath catch as the long, calloused fingers continued their journey over his lips to his chin and across his jaw. Then Qui-Gon gently took the padawan braid between his thumb and forefinger, letting the long braid trail between the tips until finally coming to rest on the last bead. With an audible sigh, the Jedi Master relaxed back into his pillow and said, relief evident in his voice, "Obi-Wan."
"Master, are you feeling all right? Would you like me to page the doctor?"
"Yes… that would be best."
When the Lemleshor came in, he looked worn and in need of rest, but genuinely relived to see Qui-Gon fully conscious. Obi-Wan watched as the doctor administered what appeared to be some standard tests for memory and brain function. Afterward Lemleshor explained to Qui-Gon, perhaps for the twentieth time, hopefully for the last, his condition and that he would be back later to perform a more thorough examination, though things were looking better. For the first time, Obi-Wan felt as if he were outside the consultation. While he disliked being ignored, he reasoned with himself that it was the way things should be and it meant Lemleshor considered Qui-Gon more able to take an active role in his treatment. Even so, the padawan couldn't help but wonder if perhaps some of it was the fact that the doctor did not want to answer any questions he might ask.
After the doctor left, Qui-Gon looked worn out but managed to stay awake until their next meal arrived. The Jedi Master only nibbled on his food, but Obi-Wan was relived just the same that now he could at least eat on his own. It was distressing to see his master still so weak, and soon the older man had fallen back asleep. There had been so many questions Obi-Wan wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to discuss, but it seemed to be cruel to batter his master with such things when he was obviously exhausted by simply talking to the doctor.
As Obi-Wan lay awake that night he realized no magic cure-all was coming, nothing would be fixed simply by his master waking up. Something had to be done. That's when he resolved to take an active role in there situation and try and form a plan himself. Though he'd never planned an escape before, he hoped he had at least enough past experience not to make a total botch of it. For better or worse things couldn't be rushed, even if Qui-Gon was soon mentally stable were still his physical injuries to consider, and that gave Obi-Wan some time. First, he was going to chat with Misshi. Once he knew whether or he could rely on her help, it would be easier to plan from there.