Author: TemporaryUniverse
Summary: Obi-Wan isn't afraid of falling. Not when he has wings and the Force on his side. And then he learns what it's like to hit the ground.
Character(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Word Count: 3,835
Warnings: Major character injury
The canyon was bigger than Obi-Wan had been expecting. It stretched off into the distance in both directions, and the other side was too far away to jump, even for a Jedi. Myka jumped off the transport first, Avan, Cassia, and Pe just behind him, and Obi-Wan followed them, shaking out his wings.
"Thanks, Ti," Avan called to the driver.
"Anytime, kids! Make sure you don't stay out after sundown! And stay away from the edge!" Ti shouted back, driving away.
Negotiations for Obi-Wan and his Master were over for the day, and he had been invited by the other kids to go on an adventure to the canyon just outside the city. Qui-Gon had graciously allowed him to go, instead of making him stay behind to meditate.
The group walked along the path at the cliffside, picking up rocks and tossing them into the canyon to hear the clatters echo up the walls. Obi-Wan counted the seconds it took for them to hit the bottom. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Sometimes, the stones didn't strike hard ground, but splashed in the small creek instead.
Avan walked right up to the edge and peered over it, and something in Obi-Wan squirmed in discomfort. He wasn't really afraid of heights, it was hard to be when you had wings and the Force, but knowing the other kids didn't made him nervous.
"You should step back, Avan," he said.
"I'm fine," the boy drawled. "I'm not gonna fall. Besides, if I do, you'll catch me, right? With your Jedi powers?" He wiggled his fingers. "Heard you freaks can lift stuff with your minds."
"I'd rather not have to," Obi-Wan huffed, ignoring the flash of hurt at being called a freak. Telekinesis under stress was difficult for him. He struggled to find his calm center in a crisis.
Avan laughed but stepped away from the ledge.
"How long are you here for, bird boy?" Cassia asked from behind him. He glanced back at her.
"Master Qui-Gon says it will be a couple more days for the agreement to be finalized. And it's Obi-Wan." He ruffled his feathers uneasily. Something was wrong, he could feel it in the Force. A faint whisper of danger, but a glance around them didn't reveal anything.
"Your wings are very pretty," Pe said.
Obi-Wan blinked.
"Thank you." The Stewjoni near-humans all had much, much larger versions of the wings of the Stewjoni kestrel, the primaries and secondaries black and spotted with white, the coverts transitioning to a lighter grey spotted with black, and the scapulars a gingery orange slightly brighter than Obi-Wan's hair with black bars. The undersides were white with black barring. Obi-Wan kept them neat and glossy, taking the time every day to preen, straightening up feathers and keeping them clean and oiled.
He wasn't proud of them exactly, that would be vanity and not something a Jedi strived for, but he liked them, and compliments on them always made him feel warm.
Pe's did not.
He had just turned back around to check on Avan again when there was a sharp tug on his wing and he yelped, instinctively tucking them in. He spun around to see Myka twirling one of his feathers between his fingers. It was one of his primaries, the black and white flashing as he played with it. There was a look in his eyes that reminded Obi-Wan of Bruck, when he had cornered Obi-Wan and was planning how best to torment him.
Bruck used to pull out his feathers too. And he'd learned the hard way that the only strangers who tried to touch his wings without permission wanted to hurt him.
He swallowed, glancing at the other kids and realizing they were surrounding him in a semi-circle, the cliff at his back.
What was this? Why were they suddenly acting so unfriendly?
"Myka?"
The other boy shrugged.
"Sorry," he said, not sounding apologetic at all. He stepped forward and Obi-Wan took a step back, hyperaware of the ledge behind him. His heart was pounding now, the Force thrumming with danger.
"Fly, bird boy," Cassia sneered.
"I can't," Obi-Wan said. He was still practicing, his wings had only just gotten large enough to support him during his last growth spurt. The best he could do was glide.
"Sure, you can. C'mon show us," Pe said.
"I can't," he repeated, slightly more desperate.
"What, are you scared of heights?" Avan came closer too. He was tall for a fourteen-year old, taller than Obi-Wan. It made Obi-Wan feel small, and he tried to draw himself up. "Go on, fly."
Something hard struck him in the chest and Obi-Wan flinched, taking another step back. Stone crumbled beneath his heel, falling into empty space. A spike of adrenaline surged through him and flapped his wings to keep his balance.
Cassia had thrown a rock at him. Obi-Wan blinked in disbelief. Another rock collided with his head, thrown by Pe this time, and he felt blood trickle down his temple. He clenched his jaw.
"I'm leaving," he said and tried to push past Myka and Avan.
"You're not going anywhere, freak," Myka scoffed, stopping him with a hand on his chest.
Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber, but didn't draw it. He didn't want to hurt them. And besides, Qui-Gon always said drawing your weapon was a last resort, only to be used after diplomacy had been exhausted.
"I don't want to fight you," he said quietly and calmly looked Myka in the eye. "Just let me go."
Myka shoved him and his wings flared, instinct urging him to appear bigger and more threatening.
Avan didn't seem to care, he came closer, approaching from the side, and Obi-Wan eyed him warily. He lifted his chin, having to tilt his head up to watch the other boy's face.
It was a mistake, he should have been watching Avan's hands instead, because the boy grabbed his wing. The tight grip made him flap reflexively, powerful muscles yanking Avan forward.
He didn't catch himself.
Avan screamed as he toppled over the edge and his hand latched on to Obi-Wan's wing desperately, but all that did was overbalance the other boy, and then they were both falling. Obi-Wan twisted around, flinging his free wing out because Avan wouldn't let go of his other one, dragging him down.
He wrapped his arms around the boy.
"Let go! Avan, let go, I've got you!" But Avan was too panicked to listen. Heart in his throat, Obi-Wan wrenched his wing out of the boy's grasp, feeling a few coverts break and tear free. He spread his wings as wide as they could go, trying to create enough drag to slow them both down. His muscles strained against the force, gravity doing its best to pull them to the ground, and he cried out, feeling like they were being ripped off and struggling to keep them outstretched. They weren't meant to hold the weight of two people.
They were still falling too fast, the ground approaching at an alarming rate, so he pulled on the Force as well, trying to cushion them and slow their descent. Avan clung to him, radiating fear in the Force. It wasn't enough, he had only a moment to make a decision, and even less time to act on it. He wrapped his wings around them, turning so he was on the bottom an instant before they impacted.
He heard a tremendous crack, excruciating pain ricocheting through every inch of his body and then everything went black.
Qui-gon was trying very hard not to panic. It had been hours and Obi-Wan still hadn't returned. And he wasn't answering his comm. Normally, Qui-Gon wouldn't have been worried, Obi-Wan was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he'd felt a rush of confusion, pain, and fear before their bond had gone silent, and now all he could tell was that he was unconscious. Something had happened to his Padawan.
He'd searched the city first, looking in all the places a group of young teens might go to play.
He was just about to give up and start searching outside the city, when he passed the med center and saw the four kids Obi-Wan had gone with coming out. One of them had a cast on their arm.
Obi-Wan wasn't with them.
The boy with the cast spotted him, and his eyes widened, panic crossing his face.
"Where is he?" Qui-Gon demanded once he was close enough.
They glanced between each other, and he could feel their fear and guilt.
The boy with the cast cleared his throat.
"The canyon. Just past the old mine."
"Is he hurt?"
The boy nodded.
"How badly?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, we didn't mean—"
Qui-Gon didn't waste a second waiting for him to finish the apology. He didn't care about these kids or what they had done, he only knew he had to get to Obi-Wan before it was too late. Too late for what, he didn't know, but the Force was thrumming with urgency.
He ran, back to the borrowed speeder he had been using, pulling out his commlink to call for an ambulance to meet him at Obi-Wan's location.
He drove like a man possessed out to the canyon, uncaring of the law as long as he avoided any accidents. He only had to stop once to ask for directions to the old mine once he reached the canyon-side, but then he was speeding along the path, the Force and his worry pulling him forward, until he reached the mine. Jumping out of the speeder, he continued on foot.
"Obi-Wan?"
There was a feather on the path ahead of him, trampled into the dirt, and he recognized it immediately. He picked it up, gently smoothing out the vane.
He was close, he could feel it, but his Padawan was nowhere to be seen. That was, until he glanced down into the canyon.
Obi-Wan lay at the bottom, wings splayed and so very, very still.
Qui-Gon felt terror seize his heart.
No.
He didn't hesitate to jump, slowing himself with the Force to land softly on his feet beside the crumpled form. His hand shook as he reached out and gently placed his fingers just below Obi-Wan's jaw, hoping, hoping.
His breath left him in a rush. He'd felt a pulse, faint but there.
"Force. Force." Only then did he dare to reach out with the Force and scan his Padawan's body. "Oh, Obi-Wan."
There were so many injuries, Qui-Gon felt sick. Broken wing, broken ribs, his head… there was something wrong there, and with his lung, but Qui-Gon couldn't tell what, he wasn't a healer with the experience to identify ailments with the Force. But he did know that this wasn't something a bacta patch could fix.
Too scared to try and move Obi-Wan with his injuries, he could only wait for the ambulance to arrive, the tightness in his chest compelling him to check his Padawan's pulse again. At his touch, Obi-Wan stirred, his breath hitching.
"Shh, Padawan, lay still. You're badly hurt."
Blue eyes slowly blinked open and searched for his face. One of Obi-Wan's pupils was blown wide, the black nearly swallowing up the iris, which Qui-Gon knew was a bad sign.
"Obi-Wan?"
His Padawan didn't respond, just stared for a long second and closed his eyes again.
Qui-gon settled in to monitor Obi-Wan through the Force and waited.
Obi-wan woke to pain.
He whimpered. He didn't know what was happening, but he was on his front on a cold surface and there were people around him, people he didn't know, and he couldn't breathe, there was something in his throat, choking him, and his lungs ached. Tears slipped from his eyes and when he opened them, the light made his head explode. He jerked away from it and there were immediately hands holding him down, voices above him, but all he heard were incomprehensible noises that scraped unpleasantly in his ears. There were fingers in his feathers, and he sobbed, trying to throw them off but it hurt, and his limbs were heavy, sluggishly responding to his commands. Drugs. He was drugged.
He reached for the Force, burning the substances from his veins as quickly as he could. He had to get away. A hypospray was set against his arm and he shoved the wielder away with a wave of the Force. There was more yelling and more hands and he still couldn't breathe, was still choking, everything still hurt, hurt, hurt.
Obi-Wan shivered. He was cold and scared and confused.
He wanted Qui-Gon.
As if summoned by his yearning, a warm Force presence enveloped him, whispering of comfort and safety.
Master? It wasn't words, their bond wasn't strong enough for that yet, it was recognition, impressions of large, gentle hands and protection.
Closeness. Assurance, Qui-Gon returned. I'm here, Padawan. I'm with you.
Fear. Pain. Need. The emotions slipped out into the Force like a plea.
Qui-Gon wrapped him in calm and peace, and he began to relax up until someone touched his wing. He flinched, tucking his wings in tighter even though it sent sharp spikes of pain through his left wing, radiating up through his shoulder. He could feel himself starting to panic again, and this time, the soothing presence of his Master wasn't enough.
A hand slipped into his own and squeezed, the familiar callouses a relief. He opened his eyes, squinting in the brightness, and found his Master in front of him, blurry and dressed in a medical apron but there, with open worry and affection on his face. That more than anything told Obi-Wan how bad it was. Qui-Gon wasn't a very expressive person.
The Force swelled around them and Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Obi-Wan's pain and fear drained away, vanishing into the ocean of the Force, leaving only peace and warmth behind. He went limp and still, his wings drooping, and let the tube down his throat push air into his lungs. His Master drew him deeper into the waters and he followed easily, trusting. Everything else faded away.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a blurry Qui-Gon, waiting patiently in the chair next to his bedside. Their hands were connected and when his Master saw he was awake, he leaned forward and squeezed his fingers, a gentle smile curling on his lips.
"Obi-Wan."
He tried to speak and his throat spasmed painfully around the tube shoved down it. He tensed all the way down to his toes, clutching at his Master's hand as his eyes filled with tears.
"It's alright, Padawan, just relax, you're alright. I'll call the healer."
His presence in the Force washed over Obi-Wan, gentle and warm as a blanket, and Obi-Wan relaxed. He was so tired, and his ribs and back and head and throat ached, and he didn't know what was happening, but he did know that his Master wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.
He allowed his eyes to close again and slipped back into sleep.
Obi-Wan had no idea how much the simple act of breathing could hurt.
As he lay there on his side, bandaged and splinted wings tucked up behind him, ventilator aiding his breaths, eyes closed because even the dim light hurt, he wished Qui-Gon would come back. His Master had stepped out to talk to the healer. He knew they had told him the extent of his injuries earlier, but he honestly couldn't remember anything they said. He didn't remember… a lot. He definitely didn't remember how he had been injured. He could recall fear and pain, but nothing more concrete than that.
He could guess at a few of the injuries. His head hurt, and there was a bandage wrapped around it, so there was some wound there. A broken wing, maybe? And ribs, judging by the hurt-to-breathe thing, and maybe his shoulder because that hurt too and there was a sling on it? All he was sure of was that he had been very close to death because his Master had let that bit of information slip earlier.
They'd been here for three days apparently, but he only really remembered one of them.
"Obi-Wan?" His Master said, from next to him.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a start, unsure of when he'd dozed off, and blinked up at Qui-Gon. His Master reached out and stroked his hair, and he melted into the touch.
"The healers think we can try to take you off the ventilator. The bacta injections seem to be working."
Obi-Wan gave a small nod.
The next moment the healer was there, and he flinched. He hadn't noticed their approach. Why had he not noticed their approach?
"Hello, Obi-Wan," they said. "How do you feel about getting this tube out of your throat?"
He blinked at them, trying to convey that he very much did want it out. He had a board somewhere that he could write on, but it was hard to use when he was on his side with his right arm pinned and his left arm in a sling so he couldn't hold it.
"Alright, let's get you sitting up. And then I'll turn the vent off."
They helped him awkwardly push himself upright, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed and his wings hanging off the other side. He swayed, a bit dizzy, and they steadied him wordlessly, handing him a pillow to clutch against his chest for support. They glanced at the monitor by his bedside.
"Vitals are steady. I need you to take some deep breaths, okay, Obi-Wan?"
He followed their command, ignoring the ache in his ribs.
"Very good," they said. "Now, I'm going to put this other tube in and suction out your mouth so nothing goes into your lungs."
It seemed a bit odd to him to put another tube in when they were supposed to be taking one out, but he nodded anyway. The suction was uncomfortable, but not painful for once.
The healer broke the seal, undid the straps holding the tube in place, and then said, "I'm going to pull the tube out. Deep breath in…"
He breathed in, as deeply as he could, and they swiftly pulled the tube, drawing it out in a single, smooth motion and leaving his throat on fire. He coughed harshly once it was gone, doubling over with the force of it, his ribs screaming in protest, and the healer pushed him back up and held a mask over his face. He sucked in grateful gulps of the cool, oxygen-rich air, and the coughing died down with a few more breaths.
"Well done," the healer praised.
They fastened the mask on and allowed him to lay back down, where he curled up on his side again.
"Thank you," Qui-Gon said.
The healer nodded at him.
"I'll be back to check on him in a little while. Use the call button if there are any problems."
Qui-Gon dipped his head and then he and Obi-Wan were alone. The Master took his hand again, sitting in the chair by his bedside.
"You can go back to sleep now, Padawan."
Obi-Wan hummed, the sound rasping and breaking in his raw throat, and closed his eyes again. Within seconds he was out.
Over the next few days, he continued to heal, slowly and painfully, but it was getting better. Finally the healers declared him ready to be discharged, as long as he kept his arm in the sling and his wing in the splint. When they got back to the Temple, the healers there would look him over and draw up a recovery plan for him, but for now he was not allowed any strenuous activity, or datapad work for long periods of time, or sleeping on his stomach or back. All for very good reasons, but he still hated the limitations.
His memory of how he'd been injured still hadn't returned, and Master Qui-Gon was keeping quiet about it, although Obi-Wan hadn't asked. His Master hadn't been around much, anyway, he'd had to return to the negotiations they were here for, but now the mission was over and they could return home.
Obi-Wan waited until their second day of space travel before he brought it up.
"Master?" He asked, over their firstmeal of protein mash and rehydrated fruit. "What happened to me? How was I injured, I mean," he clarified.
Qui-Gon looked up from his bowl to study him, then sighed.
"I wish I knew, Padawan. You went out to the canyon outside the city with four others. They returned and you did not. When I went to look for you, I found you at the bottom of the ravine. It looked like you had fallen."
Obi-Wan waited for the words to stir his insight, but there was no such revelation. The memory remained just as forgotten as before.
"That doesn't make sense, though," he protested. "How could I fall? Why wouldn't I use my wings or the Force?"
"Like I said, I wish I knew. One of the children with you broke their arm, and they felt guilty, but I could not tell if it was guilt over leaving you there, or because they had done something more."
No closer to understanding than he was before, Obi-Wan nodded and returned to picking at his food.
When they had finished their meal, he helped his Master clean up, running their bowls and utensils through the sonic washer.
"Obi-Wan," Master Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan turned to him and let out a startled noise when his Master pulled him into an embrace, careful of his wings and ribs.
"I'm glad you're okay, Padawan."
He wrapped his arms around his Master in return and melted into the hug. Qui-Gon's warm, gentle hand brushed through his scapulars, and he let out a contented hum, his wings shivering.
"Do you want me to groom your wings?"
He hadn't been able to preen himself while in the med center, so he knew his feathers were rather bedraggled. His Master's help with the matter would be nice. It wouldn't be entirely thorough with the splint still on, but his wings itched with grime and misaligned feathers.
"Yes, please."
Qui-Gon released him, pulling away and then reaching up to tug at his Padawan braid.
"Go get comfortable in the hold. I'll grab your kit."
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said with all the sincerity he could muster. It was for more than the offer of grooming. He might not remember much of his time in the med center, but he knew his Master had been there for him.
Master Qui-Gon smiled softly at him.
"You're welcome, little one. Now run along. I'll be there soon."
"Yes, Master," he replied, a warm feeling in his chest, his worry fading away now that he was safe.