In the Prism: A World Full of Weeping

by Padawan Ben (padawanben@yahoo.com) & Qwi

Archive: MA and our site only (www.geocities.com/padawanben)

Category: AU, Angst, Pre-Slash

Rating: PG

Pairing: Q/O

Warnings: None

Spoilers: None

Summary: Obi-Wan is off on an early, messy mission with his new Master (QG), and they're working on getting to know each other.

NOTES: This is a continuation of the "In the Prism of Time & Eternity" series. You don't have to have read the previous Part I of Prism to enjoy this story. Previous bits are in the MA archive under Padawan Ben, or you can find 'em on our webpage at:

http://www.geocities.com/padawanben/

Feedback is mucho appreciated and mulched into more stories.

Peace and Skittles,
Ben and Qwi.

No matter the universe, some missions never change, Obi-Wan thought, grimacing at the feel of his stiff, mud-splattered robes and trying to ignore the bone-deep fatigue pulling at him. The stresses of this mission seemed very familiar, no matter that he'd arrived as a knight in this alternative universe unexpectedly only a few weeks ago and had willingly backtracked to be apprenticed to this Qui-Gon Jinn.

The sub-levels of Twyll's refugee cavern smelled dank and unpleasant. It was a small discomfort, but when Obi-Wan added it to the misery of the past few days, it rose in a significance that was all out of proportion to the complaint. The rough stone floor of the damp cave was marred by dirt trails and the peculiar odor of the thick mud that covered this unhappy planet. Beneath the damp dirt odor was a stronger, even more disturbing ones that Obi-Wan could practically taste--scorched metallic rock, misery and fear. Above all, the cavern smelled of people, with the sour rankness that comes when too many bodies are crammed into too small a space, bodies too long unwashed and to miserable to care.

Twyll was not a happy place to be just now, and that was exactly why Obi-Wan found himself there. Such was the life of the Jedi. The Republican Senate had offered membership and assistance to this tiny rock of a planet which hosted a blossoming nation on its gooey surface, but the natives were terrified of what they didn't know. During their tentative foays into trading with the larger system, these people had heard disturbing tales of the Jedi; had heard stories of manipulative mental skills and dark, mysterious ways.

Of course, when these mysterious, manipulative strangers had offered assistance a couple of months ago through the Chancellor back on Coruscant, the formal representatives of Twyll had all but fled, shouting rejection over their shoulders. But as the Twyllen were a people still growing and creating themselves, so was their planet. Just as a prior team of Republic seismologists had promised, the twin internal forces of volcanic destruction and recreation had broken free with devastating consequences. One entire land mass was gone, buried beneath the relentless flow of ash and lava. Another mountain had crumbled and was recreating itself with liquid rock from deep within at the edge of their only surviving town. Obi-Wan could only thank whatever gods these people believed in that the destructive display did not include lava bombs launched from the crater. But the air was still dark and gritty with ash, and then had come the rains and the mudslides.

The Twyllen had all but begged then for assistance from the Senate. The Senate, in their peculiar wisdom, had sent to these terrified, desperate people the one group of beings that frightened them even more than the fact that their planet was turning inside out. They sent the Jedi. Obi-Wan and his Master had arrived to find the remaining village destroyed, the volcano still churning and the rains still falling. Those who had survived the initial cataclysm seemed paralyzed, unable to do more than huddle together and stare, first at the thick river flowing through the middle of their town and then with huge, fear-filled eyes at the Jedi who had dropped from the sky.

That river was growing ever wider, fed by mudslides further up the mountain and the ever-increasing rains. There had been no time to try reasoning with these people, and even less time for reassurances.

"We've got to get them to safer ground," Qui-Gon had shouted through the dull roar, his cloak already covered in ash while he stood knee-deep in mud.

Obi-Wan looked much the same. Gritting his teeth against the waves of fear he could sense from these people, he had merely nodded understanding and agreement. Together, the Jedi had snatched up children and ordered the parents to follow them. Most of the women had, but most of the men had had not, erroneously believing that they needed to stay behind and guard their homes. Those who went with the Jedi stayed with their Jedi guides for hours as they searched for safe passage across the river to the hills beyond the town, where the Jedi had been told the leaders of the community were already waiting.

The fickle mountain at their backs had belched more fire and smoke, the torrential rains had battered them and the river had continued to rise, until Qui-Gon decided in all desperation to directly navigate the river in question. Activating his cable launcher and anchoring himself to Obi-Wan, the Master made his way carefully across the vicid, churning gray mess.

Qui-Gon secured both cables once he'd reached the other side, creating the strongest lifewire possible for the refugees to hang onto. The next hour saw both Jedi patiently escorting men, women and children to the other side. It was slow going, with the sky turning to mud and the river flowing faster and hotter until the small ragtag group managed to leave the mess behind only to continue their struggle up the slippery slope to the refugee caverns.

There had been no conversation; terror still gripped these people and everyone needed all of their strength to keep putting one foot before the other. Obi-Wan sensed that they knew without asking that any loved ones who had chosen not to follow the Jedi now lay dead and buried under volcanic ash and mud.

At least they can't blame us for that, he reflected.

Solid and safe, the caves were high up in the mountains, deep in the mountains a few miles from and opposite the mountain undergoing geologic upheaval. And so it was that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had finally reached the promised refuge, only to find themselves in the midst of misery, devastation, destruction, hunger, and pending disease--all the expected results of such a tragedy, and all compounded by the fact that the people they'd come to assist were too frightened to accept whatever else the Jedi could offer.

Even covered in mud as Qui-Gon was, he had managed with his height, his dignity and his regal bearing, to at least hold the leaders' attention long enough to begin a conversation, but these men had awarded Obi-Wan little more than a glance. Other eyes had turned in his direction; their gaze had flicked over him--up, down, and up again--before their owners had turned away, dismissing him utterly. In that second, Obi-Wan had seen the weariness and defeat in the leaders' eyes: amidst such a disaster, how could one young man help them?

Qui-Gon had managed to soothe their fears somewhat by promising that he and his apprentice would not use the Force; there would be no magical efforts that the elders did not first approve. The promise mollified their fears somewhat, but Obi-Wan suspected that the leaders' acceptance of the Jedi was based more on the fact that there simply was no other help and no other hope. Even the hand of one's worst enemy took on a better light when it was the only help being offered.

After the Jedi's initial arrival and exposure to the crisis, they'd gotten very little rest and even less to eat. They'd spent the last two days out in the rain, sliding around in the ash and mud, crawling over boulders and sharp-edged rubble to seek out the buried, the injured, and the lost. Over that time the volcano had stopped flowing, rescue plans had been made, meagre supplies had been collected.

Now Obi-Wan found himself packed in, elbow to elbow, with a desperate, grieving group of people who hated him. He could feel the mixed misery and anger throbbing in the air, battering at him through the Force. Daring a quick glance about him, he strove not to meet the eyes of anyone near him. Obi-Wan knew that it wasn't personally aimed at him, as he'd done nothing to anyone, save work himself into exhaustion on their behalf. But they were suffering and shocked and they had to blame someone. Who better than the frightening Jedi? One older woman glared at him, and he quickly shifted his gaze away, trying to locate his Master.

The knot of elders was in the cleared space near the entrance to the cave, where the air circulation was better and the occasional breeze eased the heat of so many bodies inside rock. The position was one of the advantages of rank, but the work Qui-Gon was doing was vital, with implications far beyond this disaster relief effort. Armed with nothing but the magic of his words and his own personal power, he was forging bonds with this new world, bringing it into the Republic, and hopefully building trust with the Jedi.

It was what the Jedi did, and Qui-Gon was one of the finest diplomats the Jedi had to represent them. Obi-Wan heard his voice rumble gently over the other, higher-pitched Twyllen voices with their nasal accents. He knew that deep rumble well, soothing and encouraging as it was tonight.

The Force knew how much these people needed to be soothed and encouraged, but Obi-Wan needed to close his eyes for a moment. He needed the luxury of dry clothes and clean air and the vibrations of those who did not hate him so. A baby cried near him, tired and unhappy. The boy was young, only a few months, still in his mother's arms. His small voice was powerful in his displeasure, with the repetitive wailing that crawled up Obi-Wan's spine and into his head, making him want to scream as well. The child's thin, monotonous cry seemed to give voice to the misery of everyone present. And it was quietly driving Obi-Wan mad.

Another quick glance toward his Master showed Obi-Wan that elders were still deep in discussion; none of the shifts in posture indicated less than intense concentration. The meeting would not end soon, and Qui-Gon would be occupied until it did. Ergo, there was no hope of escape. None at all.

And the baby still cried. His mother didn't seem to notice, but sat staring blankly off into nothing, too overwhelmed to notice her son's complaints.

Obi-Wan grit his teeth and tried to shut out the crying, but it was at just such a pitch as to vibrate through his entire being. The acoustics of the rock didn't help any either, seeming to collect the sound waves just to hurl them back at the Jedi where he huddled in his wet, sticky, heavy cloak. He resisted the urge to clap his hands over his ears; it wasn't dignified, and Jedi didn't do such things, no matter how much they wanted to.

And the baby cried.

Obi-Wan focused on the source of the maddening voice. It wasn't hard; it was a little, held almost forgotten in his mother's arms. His small face was a contorted mask of unhappiness, with fat tears rolling down round, ash-smeared cheeks.

Poor little boy, thought Obi-Wan. You have no understanding of what's happened to your world. Why your needs are being ignored. Why you're uncomfortable and can't sleep in the comfortable security of your old, familiar bed.

I felt like that only a few days ago, Obi-Wan reflected sadly, just after my Master died. Stealing another glance toward his new Master, so solid, so messily alive over there in the corner, Obi-Wan sent a prayer of thanks out to the Force that he'd been given more time in another world with the man.

The baby twisted in his mother's arms, reaching toward the floor and adding a particularly emphatic wail of displeasure when his efforts were unsuccessful. Obi-Wan followed the sticky, grimy fingers, looking where they pointed and saw a bright toy with small, concentric rings resting between the mother's muddy feet.

Obi-Wan glanced back up toward the child and their gazes locked for an instant. The wailing stopped abruptly as the tear-filled eyes begged wordlessly for assistance. The boy's toy was gone. It was all that was left of familiarity and security and home and happiness.

His toy was gone....

Obi-Wan glanced swiftly around him, taking note of who was nearby, what they were doing, and where their attention was. Everyone seemed deeply absorbed in their own grief or their own efforts toward comfort. No one was sparing the dangerous junior Jedi so much as a glance.

Drawing a deep breath, Obi-Wan gathered the Force about him and pointed surreptitiously toward the toy from the depths of his robe. The bright object shot up from the floor and back into the child's eager hands. The small mouth went round with surprise, as did the big, dark eyes with tears still clinging to the lashes. And then the baby laughed. It was a startling sound of pure joy, of innocence and happiness in an otherwise miserable moment.

Obi-Wan smiled as well and settled himself back against the cave wall to wait for his Master, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the relative silence. Into that silence came the unmistakable clank and rattle of the toy hitting the floor. Five heartbeats later came the wail, just as piercing and unrelenting as it had been before.

Obi-Wan considered the inside of his eyelids and tried to ignore the throbbing at his temples. He'd gotten away with using the Force once, when his Master had sworn faithfully that they wouldn't call on the Force. No "Jedi tricks" were allowed here, so that Obi-Wan knew he was endangering the mission, was putting Qui-Gon's diplomatic efforts at risk. He was also potentially undermining the reputation of the Jedi and the political foundation of the Republic.

And the baby cried.

Suddenly it didn't matter. It was worth anything to make that child shut up.

Exhaling sharply in frustration, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and sat up, all but glowering at the little who was adding to the misery of his mission. The baby was now watching him eagerly, hopefully. He smiled and waited expectantly.

Obi-Wan again made a surreptitious check for witnesses and hastily returned the toy. It was just as hastily returned to the floor, this time with a laugh and a squeal. When the toy did not begin its upward trip immediately, the howling began anew.

Obi-Wan didn't resist this time, just pointed at the toy until it flew back into the tiny hands.

The evening dragged on, more slowly than any the Padawan could remember. He was exhausted and soggy. He hurt. His hands and knees were cut from crawling and digging through rock and rubble. His toes had that soft, wrinkly feel from too long a time in wet socks and airless wet leather boots. He had ash in his hair. He was starved as resources were slim in this destroyed world, their belt-stash of energy bars had been depleted the day before yesterday, and neither he nor his Master had felt right about depleting the survivors' scant stores until the relief ships showed up. And he was tired. SO tired. And every time he retrieved that toy through the Force, he felt another small twinge of energy fle. But to keep that kid from crying, Obi-Wan would do just about anything. Anything, just so he shut up.

The the toy rose from the ground once more, it's brightly colored rings spinning in irritating cheerfulness....

Qui-Gon had spent a long, dismal evening in ordering, planning, scheduling and building, trying to introduce the Twyllen to the whys and wherefores of Republic membership. The leaders had little choice since their planet was attempting to self-destruct, but these men still they had their pride and their fears, and both were equally strong. Still, by the end of the night their government had been restructured to accommodate senate membership and their formal petition to the Republic had been hammered out, although they were by no means assured that joining would not mean subjucation and the loss of their autonomy. Qui-Gon promised that they would still be the Twyll, keepers of their planet, their fortune and their future. They would survive and be part of the larger, more secure body of planets making up the Republic, with all of the rights, privileges and assistance that afforded, but their faith in the Jedi had not been improved by much.

One gentleman had tuned Qui-Gon totally out at the last, his attention being commanded by something in the cave behind Qui-Gon. Another joined the man in his distracted scrutiny, and finally Qui-Gon had to turn and look as well.

What held their rapt attention was his new Padawan, who was making no attempt to disguise that he was publicly doing what had expressly been forbidden. There could be no other explanation for the toy floating through the air and into the hands of a giggling baby, especially as Obi-Wan's pointing finger was directing that toy.

Qui-Gon's heart sank. He stiffened and braced inwardly for the sudden storm he knew would break over them, wondering if violence and the destruction of all the details they'd worked for hours to forge would be the result of the Jedi's broken promise.

The leader of the elders rose and walked slowly toward the Padawan who was slumped exhausted against the wall. Other elders trailed along in his wake with Qui-Gon hastily joining them and trying not to let his anxiety show.

"He is yours, is he not?" the head Elder asked softly, watching the baby throw the toy onto the ground and then watch it expectantly. The toy hit the ground almost at the Elder's feet.

"He is my apprentice, yes."

A finger pointed again from within the Padawan's muddy, oversized sleeve, and the toy rose smoothly from the ground, headed unerringly toward the outstretched hands.

"This is the Force we have heard of? The Jedi manipulation?"

Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, then nodded. "It is, Elder."

Silence followed this admission.

The toy was hurled forcefully onto the rock floor, clattering as it slid toward Obi-Wan. The Padawan obediently pointed to it again. The baby squealed in delight as it rose upward once more.

"He has been doing this for most of the night, you know," the Elder observed.

"I didn't know. My attention was on your words, I did not notice."

The man nodded. "You and your apprentice have worked as hard as any Twyllen these days, alongside those whom you do not know. Your apprentice has risked himself for our people, suffered so that my people might survive. Tired as he is now, he is spending the night entertaining one of the youngest among us, for no reason other than to comfort. This is the Jedi, the purpose of the Force we feared?"

"Yes, Elder."

The man nodded, but showed no great displeasure.

"If you wish to see the nature of a people," he advised Qui-Gon, "look not to the leaders, but to those not yet trained, those not in power. If there are flaws, that is where they will be seen." He nodded to the toy which was airborn once again. "I see nothing to fear here. I see compassion. If the Jedi care so deeply for the youngest of us, what have we to fear?"

The Elder and the Master locked gazes, understanding and acceptance finally flowing between them.

"We will join your Republic willingly, Master Jinn. Let stronger bonds of trust be built in the furture between us and the Jedi. Now, take your apprentice and let him rest."

"Thank you, Elder. I will." Qui-Gon bowed in relief and gratitude before turning away and reaching his Padawan within a few long strides. Neatly plucking the toy from its flight, he offered it to the baby, who totally disregarded it in favor of staring with wide eyes and open mouth up at the tall, robed figure.

"It is time to sleep, little one," the Master advised the startled baby.

Small fingers closed automatically over the toy, but the baby's gaze never left the Jedi towering over him. The mother of the boy gaped up in wonder at him as well.

Reaching down, Qui-Gon caught at Obi-Wan's arm and pulled him to his feet. "You too, Padawan. Time to sleep."

Wrapping his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, Qui-Gon looked around for an empty space in which they could bed down. A few feet away, the Elder caught the Master's gaze and gave a short nod toward a secluded, almost private, corner.

Obi-Wan followed quietly behind Qui-Gon, kneeling with the older man and shrugging out of his cloak as Qui-Gon spread out his own broad robe.

"Am I in trouble?" the Padawan asked quietly, lying down quickly beside the older man and using his sodden cloak as a blanket for them both.

"Not at all." Qui-Gon rubbed the bridge of his nose and summoned an ironic smile. "Though you should be." Reaching out, he gathered his apprentice into the circle of his arms. "Within a matter of months, I suspect that the Twyllen will be asking the Temple to help train them in the use of the Force. "Your... childsplay... has opened their minds to a much larger world."

"I... see," Obi-Wan murmured in bewilderment, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath of relief.

His Master's voice was a low, amused rumble close at his ear. "Next time, Padawan, I daresay you mightn't be so lucky. And so, as I'm sure there will be a next time, would you mind at least warning me through the bond when you decide to put my negotiations so much at risk?"

"Yes, Master."

A kiss was pressed to the crown of his head, so that he knew his Master wasn't seriously upset with him. Too exhausted to worry about possible repercussions in the morning, Obi-Wan nestled closer and surrendered to sleep and the peace wrapped up in his Master's arms.

END