Master Apprentice
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Blood Tears
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Title: Blood Tears
Author: Sian
Series: Adventures With Mace & Jame
Rating: NC-17
Category: H/C, Angst, Action/Adventure
Summary: Someone doesn't want the offspring of certain Senators to have a good time
Archive: Yes to MA, My site at http://www.hawksong.com/sian eventually
Feedback: On or off list is fine and muchly appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine unless you don't recognize it, and no offense is intended to George, Jude or anyone else who's created the playground.
Cudos and Thanks to Lori & Christy for their rushed review. This was supposed to go into Rituals & Meditations II, but I couldn't wait for the publication to come out, nor really wait for folks to fix it for me. I've had such a dry spell in writing that I needed some sort of progress ...
Warning and Notes: As above, not an extensive beta. Also, this takes place in the AWM&J universe after a story that's not yet made it to the list as it's going to be part of the next Living Force Zine. Both this and Frozen Dreams take place after Reckless Acts of Kindness -- you can probably follow along without missing too much. What the reader might need to know in general, is that I use some of the earliest circumstances and folks from Jedi Apprentice in a semi-canonical fashion, and that my stories thus far take place pre-TPM and are after Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan become lovers. Additionally, Jame is Mace Windu's personal pilot and aide-de-camp, is Force-sensitive, but not a Jedi. And she and Obi-Wan have had a past relationship but true Het will never be posted here by me.
The catechism and quotes come from canon sources; the vows near the end are modified historical oaths of fealty; and the final verse combines two lyrics from Sondheim's Passion.
There was this scene in Tilt's pre-release interpretation of the elements of TPM call the Way of the Mystics, that had Obi-Wan being assisted by his friends after over-doing something mentally. The image of him cradled against a female Padawan's shoulder as she shaded his eyes from even the lighting from the medical equipment monitoring Qui-Gon has stuck with me since 1999; I mean no disrespect by re-interpreting this type of scene for my own means.
The catechism and quotes come from canon sources; the vows are modified oaths of fealty; and the final verse combines two lyrics from Sondheim's Passion.
Also, the following story takes place within my Adventures With Mace & Jame universe, as this AU seems to lend itself best to snippets for zines. What the reader might need to know in this instance, is that I use some of the earliest circumstances and folks from Jedi Apprentice in a semi-canonical fashion, and that my stories thus far take place pre-TPM and are after Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan become lovers. Additionally, Jame is Mace Windu's personal pilot and aide-de-camp, is Force-sensitive, but not a Jedi. And she and Obi-Wan have had a past relationship.
Ostensibly tasked to chaperone a group of offspring of prominent senators and other notable politicians, Siri Tachi had talked four more Jedi padawans into helping, into performing their duties through interaction instead of just watching from the walls, and into not wearing the standard garb of their Order, although more closets than five had needed to be raided to pull that off.
Their appearances had been mostly successful; any casual outsider would have been hard pressed to pick out the Jedi after the first hour from any of the other young adults out on the dance floor. Pleasantly as the hours had passed, with the first hints of day beginning to overtake the darkness however, the padawans were more than ready to return responsibilities over to the normal retainers and aides now arriving to take their charges home.
As diplomatically as possible they were overlooking the spate of disappointment and cruder protestations being vocalized, although Siri was again finding herself needing to fend off one of the more amorous and now, thoroughly drunk, revelers who insisted she come home with him. From her fellow padawans she was getting only laugher instead of help.
Abruptly the laughter ended between one breath and the next.
In the next instant as if choreographed, the five took a step away from their charges, their attention shifting inward to the warning being whispered from the Force, before expanding all awareness outward. Siri quickly took in the locations of her fellows and frowned, though it could have been worse. Garen Muln was already to the far side of the courtyard, gone to verify the credentials of those waiting. Reeft and Bant, along with the first twenty-odd sons and daughters, had begun to filter out and start the queuing for the rides. Leaving her and Obi-Wan Kenobi to deal with the stragglers.
Almost to the door herself, Siri felt the danger becoming more imminent. But she couldn’t tell from where, couldn’t draw her lightsaber as a precaution as she sensed Reeft and Bant doing. The drunk’s clumsy fumblings that had at first only been annoying, were now endangering everyone and so she quickly called on the Force to augment her escape, adding a swipe of telekinesis to push the two ahead of her up the stairs and out before following them herself. She had little attention to waste on explanations -- or apologies.
And even less time.
The instant she cleared the door Siri's gaze met Bant's, both women unable to keep an expression of horror from overtaking them as they realized that Obi-Wan and those most resistant to leaving would not make it out in time. Such knowledge was not theirs alone; Reeft was grabbing at Garen in an attempt to keep their towering friend from pushing his way back through the milling – and now beginning to panic -- crowd.
As their own reactions were adversely influencing those around them, so too was it the Jedi’s responsibilities to deal with the crowd first. Despite any wishes to the contrary.
Siri’s frowned deepened. She turned an experienced eye to scan for flashpoints that could escalate the situation into something completely out of control, quickly signaling for Bant to head off one of the security men who'd not holstered his weapon when the Jedi had their own. For herself, she headed toward one of the younger women just screwing up her face to let loose a scream.
Even as Siri sought to counteract the woman’s impending hysterics, she felt her own control slipping and yearned to scream herself that she might drown out the Force’s own escalating pressure. As if she could block the vision of prescience slipping in front of her mind’s eye. Block her guilt.
But then she felt a wave of calm similar to that which she was attempting to project being directed toward her. Along with a feeling of absolution and acceptance. Before she could respond or even react, those foreign emotions then narrowed into the unique focus of determination and resolve that had been Obi-Wan in her mind for as long as he’d known him. Followed by mental shielding – his, her own – that threw Siri back into her own mind, alone save for the Force.
Even as she pushed down those closest to her, protecting the woman underneath her with her own body, Siri found herself blinking back sudden tears and holding her breath. Only for an instant, and then the thunder and sheer chaos of a massive explosion overwhelmed thought and senses alike.
The cobblestones of the courtyard flexed and buckled as if liquid. The fascia sheered right off the club, glass, brickwork and then metal exploding outward in all directions as the shockwave immediately bounced off the surrounding buildings and the cascade began in the surrounding levels.
Given that Coruscant-the-city had long ago encompassed all of the land of Coruscant-the-planet, any further influx of people drawn to this ruling seat of the Galactic Republic meant that the only available space to build to house them, was up. And so the planners and developers had years ago begun designing buildings that not only rose upward far enough that atmospheric compensators and attenuators were necessary to provide viable air, but buildings that would also withstand the vagaries of decay and destruction that might occur at any level without plunging the entire arcology in on itself. All of which meant that when the bomb was set off in the level above the club, only the floors of the levels above and below, and a few extra support columns were engulfed.
Siri, as she knew the others would also be doing, quickly gathered the Force to her in an attempt to contain and redirect the shattered, melted and splintered rain of debris. A few bits and pieces got through, and as something cut through the silk of her shirt and deep into her arm, Siri lost some of her focus. Which enabled a few more shards to get through.
Long moments passed in which she could see nothing but clouds of dust, ash and smoke, could hear only the blunted screams of frightened people and wounded property over the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her own elevated pulse. She could sense nothing but fear and pain, was needing to breath shallowly; all too aware that dust would be the least of what she was inhaling.
Siri kept her eyes closed so that she might be able to use them once things settled. Too, she drew more deeply on the Force, clutching at its comfort even as she sought to release her own fears and other crippling emotions back into it.
Five minutes passed before she could feel an appreciable drop off of the debris impacting against the Force shielding she'd raised, and before she felt centered enough to also lower her mental shielding and reach beyond the chaotic jangle from the others in a sensing for further danger. Discordant little beacons of misery painted her mind's eye and the Force like the laser show some of the younger padawans had choreographed last Founder's Day. A shading of colors to match the degrees of injury whether mental or physical, but no where did she sense the complete absence of the light each living creature exhibited within the Force that would have spoken to her of death.
Not even back in what little was left of the club.
A wash of tears that she didn't even try to convince herself was from the irritants in the air, and then Siri was rising from her crouched position and immediately searching out with all of her senses and abilities in concert to properly access the situation and what actions would need to be first undertaken. She was not the only one so moving, those who'd come to take the partiers home having been mainly at the fringes of the area were now fighting amongst themselves to see who would assume control.
Not on her watch!
"Garen, see if you can find a way back into the club while Reeft, Bant and I handle the triage here until the emergency techs arrive," she commanded with an air of authority worthy of her master’s, and with the Force. Of all the Jedi present, her master's reputation and connections within the Senate gave her better opportunity to keep things from devolving from a rescue into political posturing and attempts of brinksmanship.
Yes, she desperately wanted to help rescue Obi-Wan and those others trapped within herself, but even if one of the others could better control the crowd, she couldn't move the arm that had taken injury. And while she had as much Force strength as any of the others -- except maybe Obi-Wan – she feared that physical strength would also be necessary.
Would that both would prove enough.
For an instant Garen balked at following Siri's lead, but then he shook his head and pulled away from a young Trandoshan who'd been clutching at him in panic before gaining his feet. Being contrary just for its own sake made little sense, especially considering Siri had instructed him to do what he would have assigned to himself had he been the one to issue the order first. It wasn't even as if he and Siri still concerned themselves with the rivalry that had plagued them years ago while competing for Obi-Wan's friendship. With all of their crčche group now senior padawans and extremely active in the field, there was rarely time to say hello to one another assuming there were passing through the Temple at the same time, much less time to keep childish jealousies alive.
But some habits were hard to give up. Especially around Siri, who'd never quite gotten over her arrogance of being the only padawan chosen by a current member of the High Council.
As if Qui-Gon Jinn hadn't been the master they had all hoped to be apprenticed to when they were initiates, over Adi Gallia or any Council Member. Including Master Yoda.
That thought had Garen wondering just what the renowned Qui-Gon Jinn was doing at the same moment he moved to assess the level of damage. Although Obi-Wan had been notoriously skimpy on details, Garen had heard enough to know that more than just their training relationship had changed between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan after the mission on T'ias. The Order's premiere master-padawan pair had already had an enviable closeness in their training bond, but from what Bant had observed and gossiped about during the business of Councilor Plo Koon's death, it seemed as if Obi-Wan and his master’s link was now possibly telepathic. Garen had little doubt, therefore, that Qui-Gon Jinn wasn’t aware that something distressing had happened to his padawan.
Which was now up to Garen to determine the nature of. And its severity.
Where once stood the door to the club, a slab of jagged permacrete and the slagged remains of part of the floor above now blocked reentry. With the Force Garen sensed if there was a possibility of clearing the way, but felt a solid obstruction of at least ten meters before him. Instead of wasting time by cursing at the bad luck, Garen tuned out the leadenness of the inorganic material and reached now for an awareness of what might lay beyond the compacted rubble.
And let go the breath he'd been holding when seven unique auras delineated themselves.
The one he'd known for almost fifteen years was somewhat muted, but also without any deep shadow of injury. In fact he could feel no such shadow over any of the seven still trapped within, and so breathed a deeper sigh of relief.
When he didn't feel a returned measure of relief come from Obi-Wan when their consciousnesses brushed across one another, Garen found himself then licking his lips nervously. He decided (hoped!) the continued mental distance between them was because of an extraordinary level of attention to something else on his best friend's part. Yet the only thing he could imagine needed such single-mindedness, would be keeping some significant danger at bay. Like holding up a substantial portion of wreckage. But no padawan had that kind of training, could tap that much power --
Certainly not for any great length of time.
Which meant that even should Garen find -- or create -- an opening in which the others could then use to escape, Obi-Wan might be unable to make his own way free before several metric tons of debris came crashing down.
Certainly not without a lot of help.
Garen turned his head to take in the status of the rescue operations. Given the importance of the people they'd been protecting, Coruscant Security had already appeared, and many of the revelers had already been whisked away. Those significantly injured were being treated on-site as needed, or loaded into hovering medical vehicles. A perimeter of defense was also being set up overhead and, no doubt, some of the security forces were already beginning a search for the perpetrators of the attack.
Bant, being the only trained healer among the five Jedi, was assisting with the injured while Siri, being injured herself Garen could now see, was leaning against one of the local police units and filling in the investigators as to what had happened. More or less hovering at Bant's side, Reeft was assisting, but it looked as if enough medical personnel had arrived for Garen to conscript the Dresselian for his own uses.
"Reeft, to me," he rumbled before turning back to the task of finding a way of freeing Obi-Wan and the rest. Surely there had to be some pockets of open space remaining --
Damn! Yes there were, but he could only sense them low to the floor with less than a meter of clearance. Garen could too easily envision the trapped needing to crouch or kneel in one of the those pockets, some maybe even being prone. No doubt Obi-Wan was protecting them as best he could, not only with the Force but with his physical presence.
Meaning Garen would need to create an opening closer to the courtyard's cobblestones for it to be affective. And hope that those inside were far enough away that once the blades of his and Reeft's sabers breached the wall, no one would be endangered.
"We've got to cut out a block down here," Garen gestured to a relatively unblemished portion of the lower wall as Reeft ran up. "It feels as if Obi-Wan is keeping everything from complete collapse, but he's not going to be able to do so indefinitely -- and we'd need major equipment to dig out the doorway." He didn't need to explain that one of them might need to climb back into the devastation; all Jedi were trained in disaster recovery and, as senior padawans, they'd dealt with similar disasters on a variety of field missions, both those precipitated by nature, and those by intent, as this one had been.
Reeft nodded and dropped to his knees alongside Garen. They withdrew their sabers simultaneously and twin glows, one in a deep green, the other a red violet that was almost brown, punched through the gloom that was still part night and part dust. Given his greater height, Garen plunged his saber to the left and would cut his angle upward then across, while Reeft took the right and started downward to open up the bottom. Too, Garen would take the responsibility to keep the heavy block from tumbling inward, although depending on what the wall was actually made of, he might need Reeft's assistance in pulling it once they'd finished cutting it free.
Even a saber that could cut through just about anything but another saber, took time to breech permacrete and steel. A grunt from Reeft came just seconds before Garen felt his own blade pierce completely through, then both needed to turn their heads to escape breathing directly the fumes of what they'd begun to burn.
Just one more thing they needed worry about, not only on their own behalf, but also for those trapped beyond. What could already be limited air now stood to be contaminated with toxic residue from the burning building materials.
People began to loom over them as they worked, but neither padawan stopped long enough to do more than cast a quick glance back over their shoulders to assess any potential danger or usefulness. Garen managed to bury a groan as he recognized one of first arrivals from his and his master's own duty on Senate rotation. Not a bodyguard, but the esteemed senator from Onderon himself.
Which had to mean that one of the ones still trapped within was his daughter.
Terrific. Already unhappy with their relative anonymity and the internal-only accountability of the Jedi, Senator Marmon would no doubt be the first to cast blame on the protectors instead of those who'd set the bombs. And if his precious daughter was injured --
But thoughts of such an unhappy potential fled from Garen's mind in the next instant. Another flicker of warning was coming through the Force. Not another bomb he felt pretty certain, probably not an external threat at all. But the danger was very real, even without a new attack of some form.
Obi-Wan's control over the mass was slipping!
"Bant, Siri, I need at least one of you here --"
"They're both already gone, young Jedi."
Certainly not the words Garen wanted to hear, but he supposed he wasn't really surprised. It was quite likely Bant had been needed to travel along with at least one of the more severely injured, and there had been no question that Siri had needed medical attention herself. But that meant then that he or Reeft would need to somehow help Obi-Wan mentally instead of continuing their physical efforts, and that would create even further delays and add to more potential danger --
Before he could get a handle on what exactly he needed to levitate, Garen sensed Obi-Wan's mental prowess and shielding firm up on its own. It had to be Qui-Gon, although Garen had absolutely no idea how the absent master had managed it. The two were too far apart, and not even Master Yoda should have been able to breach such a gap. Then even that thought was put out of mind as Garen heard the first hint of voices from within. Quite close-by.
He raised his own voice to give instructions which he hoped might mask the sounds of the still shifting debris -- at least from Senator Marmon.
"Can you hear me in there?"
"Yes, yes!" came more than one scream, along with "Get us out of here," and "Hurry!"
As if that wasn't what they were already dedicated to doing.
But Garen swallowed the frown that too frequently took over his expression when dealing with hysterical civilians. And blithely ignored Reeft's eye rolling; they’d been friends for only a couple of years less than Garen and Obi-Wan. Garen knew he had a tolerance and patience problem, yet it would serve little purpose to acknowledge or -- even worse -- have it pointed out in front of even non-hostile witnesses.
Which the Senator now breathing over his neck most definitely was not.
"Are any of you injured?"
While Garen could still sense nothing untoward in that respect from the Force, he supposed any one of the trapped could have mental shields of their own. Although the Jedi diligently attempted to identify anyone who might have psychic potential so that they might get proper training even were they not candidates for becoming Jedi, certainly they missed finding some. Too, enough parents purposely kept their children from being tested, especially those who ruled or served the hundreds of thousands of governments comprising the Republic, from wanting their political power passed on to their heirs. Finis Valorum, the current Supreme Chancellor, was one such who might have become Jedi, had his parents not been more concerned with continuing their political dynasty than listening to the Will of the Force.
Too bad Crion of Telos hadn’t felt that way about his own son before sending him off to the Temple and eventually Qui-Gon as the master’s padawan prior to Obi-Wan …
But before his mind could fall back into the quagmire of angst and anger that still surged through Garen anytime he thought of how Xanatos’ fall to Darkness had affected Qui-Gon and, therefore Obi-Wan, he was being answered. And this time instead of the expected clamoring of multiple voices, it came from only one.
"Not really," spoke a female with an accent that sounded Onderonian. "None of us I mean, but Obi -- but the Jedi is … is … I don't think he's hurt, but he also hasn’t spoken, and even though it's dark in here, I don't think he's moved at all since shepherding us against the floor. I'm afraid he might be --"
"He's fine," Garen interrupted. "He's just … busy, doing … Jedi stuff." Garen didn't need to hear Reeft's bark of laughter to know his explanation was beyond lame, but how could he explain what Obi-Wan was doing without alarming them more? And when Garen didn't really understand it himself.
What Obi-Wan -- and somehow Qui-Gon-- were doing was patently impossible. But then, the impossible had been that pair's specialty ever since they returned to the Jedi Temple as master and padawan some eight years ago, after Obi-Wan had been shipped off to join the Agri-corp.
"Can you move around in there? I assume you're packed in rather cozily, but if you can arrange yourselves into some sort of order, we've just about cut through the block and will be able to start pulling you free. As you can see --" well no, she said they couldn't.
"The hole we are cutting can only handle one of you at a time," he began again. "We'll help you out, but we need your cooperation. If any of you are carrying anything, it would be better to leave it; I'll make sure it's recovered if possible."
"L'ling, you make sure you are first," Senator Marmon yelled past Garen's ear, much to the padawan's disgust – and a quick shock of pain from the volume and proximity.
Apparently L'ling wasn't any more pleased with her father, for an immediate embarrassed shriek of "Daddy!" overrode any other stupidity the senator might have been about to spout.
"Sirs, we will need the three of you to back up," came from Reeft unexpectedly to those hanging over them. The Dresselian sat back on his heels, having finished his part of the task, and was extinguishing and reattaching his blade to the belt before well hidden by his jacket. "As we pull them free, we will need you to help get them away from the building. The potential for danger is still imminent, so if, in fact, you would care to vacate the area completely once all six free, we can see about securing the structure from causing further damage."
Garen didn't even blink to hear Reeft exclude Obi-Wan from receiving the others' assistance. To begin with, there was the little problem of figuring out how they were going to get their friend free, since any direct contact on their part could disrupt Obi-Wan's concentration and bring about what they were desperate to avoid. Garen wasn't sure if he and Reeft together could take over what Obi-Wan was maintaining alone, and even if that was possible, he feared Obi-Wan wouldn't have enough energy left to get himself out.
What they really needed was at least one more Jedi to assist, not witnesses to what could still be at least a personal disaster.
But the first didn't seem likely to occur, even with Master Qui-Gon apparently knowing about the emergency. At least not in time, as Garen sensed another dip in shifting mass beyond.
"Okay, get ready," he growled out warning to everyone as he felt the last of his part in cutting the obstruction end. In the next instance Reeft was shifting away from the witnesses and back toward the wall, extending his hands and the Force along with Garen. The two of them pulled at the block to bring it outward before flinging it aside.
"Forward now!" Reeft shouted and reached to grasp with fingers and Force the first hand that was thrusting through.
A female, but Bothan, not L'ling from Onderon.
The two padawans handled her with more care but no less of the vigor they'd used in removing the permacrete block. Even as they deposited her in the hands of one of the rescue workers, the next of their charges was following on the Bothan's heels, propelling himself out of the hole with almost as much grace as would have a Jedi. He then turned to assist as the third of the six was maneuvering herself free.
This one was L'ling, who immediately began apologizing to the Jedi while ignoring her father. Apparently the final three other than Obi-Wan were male and concerned with their own reputations and how it would look to be freed before one of the women. Garen flashed her a grateful and knowing smile before she was whisked away by her father and the senator's personal physician. This left only one rescue worker to stay and help, but the first male rescued had also stayed and now reached out eager hands to steady the fifth rescuee and then the sixth.
Almost before Garen believed possible, all but Obi-Wan were free.
"Get going," Reeft instructed when none of the five moved to follow the medic who was trying to see to their welfare. To their further credit, all five hesitated and one even took a step back as if he was thinking of actually going back into the hole. But then a portion of the wreckage near the blocked doorway shifted, the noise of its collapse startling even the Jedi.
"Go on," Garen coughed out in the new dust this raised while reinforcing his command with a touch of Force compulsion. That broke their valiant paralysis, and the five scampered away with the medic.
"Garen!"
He all but growled at the note of incipient panic in Reeft's voice, but wasted none of his energy to answer as it was needed instead to deflect yet another section of tumbling debris. Garen could feel that Obi-Wan was yet safe, that in actuality their friend was now easing the strain on himself by letting go portions of the load. And Garen didn't doubt that Obi-Wan had an exact fix on the pattern that the interlocked rubble created; Obi-Wan's understanding and command of the Unifying Force was approaching at least a Knight's level of skill -- assuming he'd not already surpassed what would be necessary to demonstrate in his Knighthood trials. But Garen could sense that Obi-Wan was also approaching his limits -- had already exceeded them.
Nor did Garen have any real reassurance that Obi-Wan wasn't just directing the collapse in order to mitigate any further collateral damage outside of the club, not keeping -- or not able to keep -- a path free for his own rescue.
"Reeft, do you have a sense of him?" Perhaps he could augment what Obi-Wan was doing long enough for Reeft to pull him out.
Reeft's face was even grayer than normal, but the Dressellian nodded. "Can you take over his hold?"
Garen seriously doubted it, but had little choice and wasn't about to jinx their chances by admitting it. He simply crawled forward the last meter to take a position up directly against the wall opposite of Reeft on the other side of the hole. He let his eyes close so he might better visualize what would be involved, knowing Reeft would be doing the same. The call would be Reeft's.
As Garen began to overlap his intent with Obi-Wan's, he would need (and be given) only a instant's warning that he'd have Obi-Wan's task alone. Then hope for split second timing and all the luck and care the Force had to give them --
Which proved enough, though barely.
In the same moment as Reeft's 'now' was sounding in Garen's brain, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he was trying to hold up the entire building. But even as this sent him falling forward, barely cognizant enough to thrust his hands out to keep from busting his chin or nose against the courtyard now too quickly approaching his face, he then heard an explosive gust of breath being let loose, quickly followed by what sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Feeling suddenly giddy himself, Garen looked over his shoulder in time to see Obi-Wan execute an almost perfect set of rolls to stop his momentum from Reeft's rather fervent Force assist. The relief from that sight as well as the sudden flare of helpless anger that all their worry had been for naught -- even though he knew nothing had been as easy as it appeared -- destroyed Garen's control over his emotions and over the mass.
Although the new resulting dust cloud interfered with his sight as well as his breathing, Garen certainly could still hear as Obi-Wan’s laughter tinged into hysteria, then cut off abruptly in a moan. Through the Force Garen then felt a heart-stopping spike of agony overtake the other.
"Shit!"
Garen recognized immediately what they were facing and quickly severed his automatic mental probe into Obi-Wan's state.
Just over a year ago, Obi-Wan had been the first padawan -- actually the first of any Jedi in several generations -- to so overextend his Force abilities that a full-blown case of psychic shock had resulted. Additional cases had then followed, including Obi-Wan again, not only enough times that new courses in prevention and recognition had been added to the senior padawan curriculum, but also with such a prevalence that now aspiring Jedi healers and philosophers alike were debating whether or not this sudden increase in the number of incidents meant anything significant to the Order's future; perhaps the Force’s way of preparing them all for … something.
"It's psychic shock, Reeft," Garen warned through gasps that were both coughing and a touch of panic, unsure and unwilling to take the chance that Reeft had figured it out on his own.
Force use, not just from the injured, but from any use in close proximity, exacerbated psychic shock and could cause permanent damage to the one so afflicted should the usage persist. While the need to withdraw all active connections with the Force for Obi-Wan's sake meant Garen couldn't sense if Reeft was doing the same -- or even if Reeft had made out and understood his garbled warning -- he quickly assumed Reeft had figured out what was going on as Obi-Wan's distress didn't sound like it was increasing.
Garen's own distress would be, however, if he didn't get out of the cloud comprised of glass, metal and other building materials, as well as actual dust that he could no longer even partially shield himself from breathing in. Because he could only rely on senses mundane, all of which were compromised by the deadly environment, Garen was unable to avoid the something that sliced into his palm or the bruising and cuts he would no doubt find covering his legs from crawling over the debris-strewn cobblestones. Not that any of that stopped him from putting aside his own welfare to check on Obi-Wan’s.
"Obi-Wan?" While he hadn't completely lost his sense of direction, Garen wanted a better idea of his friend's position so that he didn't blithely pass him by entirely, or even worse in blinded haste, aggravate or actually cause some form of injury by misjudging and man-handling his friend.
Ahead and to his left came another moan. Then a spate of coughing that sounded like Reeft from even further to his left. Garen tested his progress by drawing in a little deeper breath than he had been doing. Sure enough, it caused him to cough as well, but he felt certain he'd not breathed in nearly as much dust as he'd been doing so initially. Either he'd reached the perimeter of the dust cloud or it was settling quicker than he could have hoped for.
Thus encouraged, he opened his eyes cautiously. And needed immediately to blink away sudden tearing.
He crawled a few more meters forward before trying again. This time both breath and sight came easier. He saw Reeft first, the two of them subconsciously moving closer together even as they moved toward Obi-Wan. Another few tight blinks and Garen then cracked a tired smile, although he carefully avoided licking at his dry and gritty lips. He had to be in the same state as Reeft, so dust-covered that the bright colors they'd worn in some form of childish rebellion to the drabness of their uniforms, were now just a uniform brown-gray as was any of their exposed skin. Indeed, bloodshot eyes were Reeft's only source of color, as even his tear-tracks revealed the only slightly darker, wrinkled gray of his flesh.
Obi-Wan was only a slightly more recognizable, as he had chosen dark colors instead of bright ones and so was a more distinct, dust-covered shadow crouching a few more meters ahead of them. A twitch across Obi-Wan's back as with a sharp clatter a piece of piping shifted and sprung out from beneath Reeft's hands as they continued to crawl forward, was the only evidence that their distressed friend was aware of their approach -- was even still alive.
To Garen it looked as if Obi-Wan had run into an invisible barrier; he was still hunched over in a tucked position from the roll, crouched over his legs with his back arched and his head tucked down toward his chest. His hands were over his head in either an attempt to protect it and his neck from more debris or, more likely, in an attempt to block out the noise and increasing light that was filtering in not only through the settling dust, but from the upper levels of the atmosphere with the rise of morning and the departure of the final aircars beyond the security perimeter still being enforced.
"This'll teach us not to wear our robes," Reeft whispered mournfully.
Garen could only nod as when any hope that he still might have been mistaken with regard to Obi-Wan's condition was dismissed as their friend finally lifted his head at their arrival and Reeft's touch. Garen knew his own eyes would look as bloodshot as Reeft's, but you could barely make out that Obi-Wan's even had irises. Red shaded both his tears and his sclera.
"Oh, fuck, Obi," Garen sighed and drew himself into a kneeling position that he might steady their friend. Wishing that Bant was still with them, he quickly ran his hands over the trembling body before them to see if he could feel any further injury, while also praying not to invoke any significant flinch. Not only did he regret not having a robe that they could bundle Obi-Wan within and raise the hood to try and shelter their friend's currently over-sensitive eyes and ears, but he also condemned himself for so quickly dismissing the last medic off with the others and, even more so, for not commandeering the medic's aircar for their own needs.
They were miles away from their own healers and the Temple. While they might be able to commandeer one of the security units still involved in the above investigations, Garen was concerned that in being so out of uniform, they might be pegged as the terrorists themselves or at least pulled in for questioning. And a prolonged discussion or temporary incarceration while things got properly sorted out, would not do Obi-Wan a bit of good.
Could actually do quite a bit of harm.
They couldn't even call for a private air car, at least not yet. Not until they moved up at least a handful of levels to where their personal comm-units might be working again – assuming any of them had remained undamaged from the blast that had fried most of the other electronics in the buildings surrounding them.
So more likely up to where they could find a working communications post. Except none of them were carrying the money for its use.
Nor could they use the Force to influence another to loaning them their vehicle or even driving them, not without creating even more agony and potentially permanent damage to Obi-Wan. Even traveling by public transit would be dicey; yes as Jedi they could travel for free, but they'd have to be damn convincing considering their current appearances to get a driver to agree to even let them board.
And he didn't think they could really wait for whomever Bant or Siri would have contacted, not even for Qui-Gon, assuming Obi-Wan's master was as aware of what was going on as Garen hoped.
"Reeft, help me get him up. We're going to have to go up a couple of levels and catch a public transport."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth and Garen thought he might have begun to say Qui-Gon, but no real sound came out, and Garen didn't give him the chance to strain anything more.
"Buddy, even if your master left the instant after the explosion, it will be almost an hour more before he'd be here, then almost two hours to get back. I'll make sure the driver contacts the Temple and lets them know were coming in. It's not like we won't be stopped mid route if so commanded by a Jedi Master."
Reeft was nodding and gently pulling Obi-Wan upright. Although Obi-Wan paled distressingly and swayed even with their supporting hands, he seemed to control what was likely a case of vertigo and subsequent nausea. He stood passive but alert, which encouraged Garen to think that the shock, which was significant enough, was Obi-Wan's only injury of concern.
"Ah, if we're going to interact with the public and hope not to get stopped or ignored, we'd better see if we can clean up a little," Reeft suggested just as Garen was about to get them moving.
Although Obi-Wan's eyes were closed and his face was nearly as caked as theirs', Garen was pretty sure he saw a wry grin twist the other's lips momentarily -- in match to his own. When they had all been young initiates, Reeft's constant concern was for food; his species having a much higher metabolism than humans even though they moved slower. Over the subsequent years Reeft had finally gotten his diet properly regimented (although Garen was sure he'd be eating as soon as the Dresselian got his hands on something, given the extra exertions of the past fifty minutes), and instead of whining about being hungry, now Reeft focused obsessively on his appearance and general cleanliness. Not enough to be compulsively washing his hands ever few minutes, of course, and not enough to disturb his friends or affect his abilities to do his duties, but just enough to remind them that no matter how they aged and grew apart, certain absolutes of personality would remain true: Reeft's odd yearnings and dogged loyalty, Bant's dedication and concern for others, Siri's arrogance and brilliant wit, Garen's own steadfastness and occasional bewilderment. And Obi-Wan's charm and wisdom.
Even when being nearly incapacitated by psychic shock.
"You both still have your jackets on?" he asked in a quiet croak.
Reeft and Garen exchanged glances, not following what seemed a total non-sequitor to the conversation.
Wondering if Obi-Wan's injury might have addled their friend's wits more than they suspected, Garen whispered, "Ah, yeah?" upon realizing their nods would not have been seen. (And that his normal speaking voice was causing difficulty from its volume.)
Even the women had been wearing jackets, as that was the only way to carry their lightsabers inconspicuously.
Absolutely sure this time of Obi-Wan's patient amusement and, whereas he never really bridled at his shortcomings being so pointed out whether from his friends or his master's words, this time Garen was deliriously happy to sense the gentle mockery, as he could take heart from Obi-Wan being able to give it.
"If we take off our jackets, our shirts underneath are not as dust covered," Obi-Wan continued slowly, in little more than a whisper. "And we can use the insides of the jackets to brush off the rest of us, then just fold the dusty side inward and over our arms …"
When Reeft looked as if he might protest the treatment of a jacket that cost more than their yearly allowance, Garen reached over and gently cuffed him across the ear. It was an efficient and elegant solution; clothes could be cleaned or replaced. Reeft's was probably already too far damaged to save anyway. Although none of the three of them were physically injured with any significance, Reeft still had blood on his hands and a splash across the front from his assisting Bant.
A broken water main took care of the blood and cleaning up their exposed skin. And for once their padawan haircuts proved useful as by the time they were ready to cross the courtyard and find a lift that was still working, all but their braids were already dry, and the spikiness of their uncombed tops simply looked stylish. Well, stylish on Obi-Wan. And at least on Garen and Reeft, it looked intentional.
There was nothing they could do about Obi-Wan's eyes, but then Obi-Wan wasn't really up to having them open for the damage to be seen anyway. Garen was also worried that even through his closed eyelids, the light of day, the call kiosks and the transport itself would be too much. Not to mention the growing level of noises they'd be exposed to as more of the city woke up.
At least the migraine did not seem to be making Obi-Wan too sensitive to being touched. Although their friend was determined to keep up as they needed to take a couple of sets of stairs before finding a lift that hadn't been turned off by the security patrols, Garen didn't expect Obi-Wan's current adrenaline boost to last long enough to get him home unassisted. Slipping him some extra energy through the Force was right out, of course …
He stayed next to Obi-Wan, a hand cupped under the other's elbow as they waited in a shadowed doorway for Reeft to call the next open transport to their location.
Reeft was sorely tempted to let the first transport go on without them and hope for something better in the second. But one look toward Garen and Obi-Wan and he didn't need to use the Force to read Garen's concern.
Or Obi-Wan's difficulty for all that their friend was gamely staying on his feet.
Unfortunately this was not one of the transports utilized primarily by folks ending their night shifts in whatever endeavor and returning home to sleep. Instead it was filled with workers and students eager to start their day, and was set up with bright, artificial sunlight and cheerful, innocuous, and just a little too loud music to encourage those who might need an additional boost to their systems.
Before they'd moved much beyond the steps into the transport, Reeft could see blood tears once again glittering beneath Obi-Wan's lashes. But somehow he kept them from falling and just leaned heavier against Garen as they threaded their way toward the back and, hopefully, a quiet section. Reeft stayed up near the driver, waiting until the two had passed far enough away that his little Force-trick of levitating the driver's transit license proved at least he had a modicum of psychic ability. A flash then of his lightsaber and instructions to the driver to contact his dispatcher that they in turn could contact the Temple on three padawans' behalf, got them their free passage.
To Reeft's dismay, he easily caught up to Obi-Wan and Garen while they were still working their way through the other riders, arriving in time to hear a less than flattering comment about his two human friends' sexuality by one of the anti-authority youths that many of their charges had attempted to portray though their dark clothing had been artificially dirty and artistically torn. Even on planets as prosperous as Coruscant, there were those who turned from help or even from helping themselves, preferring to live amongst the shadows and to take instead of earn. To Reeft’s eyes these were the marginal ones, perhaps having homes yet, but preferring the company of on another. And preferring to cause trouble.
Garen was growling in response to the taunts, drawing himself into that impressive state of intimidation that he, like Reeft's own master and Obi-Wan's (and every other ridiculously tall Jedi), seemed to enjoy cultivating, yet would only enflame the situation here. Being part if not the leader of the gang of toughs, the speaker wasn't likely to let himself be intimidated, especially not by someone who was clutching his smaller friend even closer to his body in full protective mode.
Before Reeft could step in to diffuse the situation, however, someone else spoke up.
"Oh, why don't you drag your knuckles back to your little outer rim home and leave them alone," came a laughing voice from a human female with short dark hair except for a splash of blonde dipping down toward one eyebrow, who was sitting next to a tall, willowy blonde with a braid down her back even longer than any of their padawan braids. "I would have thought your mamma taught you that such outdated notions on sexuality have no place here, and that by expressing them all you've done is told the rest of us here you've never gotten any from anything other than your own hand and so don't even know what its all about, much less what gender or species you want to do it with." She then pulled on her companion's braid and drew her down into a kiss that Reeft could tell was simply meant to provoke or draw away attention from Garen and Obi-Wan despite the enthusiasm shown by both women.
A round of laughter and applause followed this display, some of it probably not so much in support of sexual equality as it was in appreciation of the titillation provided by the sight of two women kissing. Even a couple of the tough's companions were laughing, which Reeft was pretty sure wasn't a good thing for all that it gave Garen the opportunity to get moving without being further harassed. Reeft followed quickly, keeping a surreptitious eye on the whole gang, but not before acknowledging the assistance the two women had provided, and smiling his gratitude.
Catching up yet again, Reeft could sense that Garen's slow-to-rise anger was in full force, and he wasn't surprised to see a couple of travelers quickly move as Obi-Wan was led toward the seats engineered for some of the larger species like Wookies or Codru-Ji. Garen planted himself sideways, twisting so that his back was blocking most of the window before drawing Obi-Wan to him so their friend could hide his face and eyes against Garen's neck and shoulder. Reeft slid in next to Obi-Wan, taking both of the other padawans' jackets so that Garen could also then use his free hand to cup around Obi-Wan's head and further block Obi-Wan's exposed ears. It was indeed an intimate position, but had nothing remotely sexual about it.
Reeft felt a sudden tap on his shoulder and whipped around, as much from embarrassment in being so caught up in his friends instead keeping a look out as he should have, as from his discomfort that because he was not using the Force, he could be so surprised. It was the blonde with the impressive braid, with a look of concern on her face.
"Is your friend alright?" she mouthed, not knowing, of course, the full nature of Obi-Wan's distress, but obviously observant enough to have noticed Obi-Wan's reactions to sharp voices.
Reeft shrugged and shook his head slowly although he gave her another appreciative smile. "He will be," Reeft mouthed back. Certainly hoping it would be so. "We're taking him home."
She nodded and gave an answering smile of her own, then turned and gestured to the dark haired friend and yet another, younger woman with the appearance of a student to leave their seats and come toward the back. The three took seats nearby but not directly in front, staying far enough away that beginning any conversation with the Jedi would be awkward, and seemingly content not to continue with any of their own out of consideration for the Jedi's situation.
Another woman and her young daughter also moved seats, taking those directly across the aisle, both of them wearing headphones and engrossed in their data slates instead of conversation with any neighbors or each other. Then one more changed seats, a woman traveling alone, obviously one of the many ubiquitous government workers who thrived on Coruscant. She glided back to take up the row two seats behind the Jedi by spreading out paperwork, her briefcase and her padd bag to discourage someone else from insinuating themselves nearby.
Without asking or any direct encouragement, the three Jedi were effectively ringed and protected by well-meaning citizens, at least for the moment.
Not that Reeft relaxed his vigilance again. He kept his left hand against Obi-Wan's back, all too able to feel the other's reaction to every twist and turn, every stop and start the vehicle submitted them to in its journey, and he had to talk himself out of using the Force for just an instant anyway -- to push Obi-Wan into unconsciousness. But he wasn't actually sure that even with Obi-Wan's debilitation, he'd be able to override the other padawan's will, just as he wasn't sure that it wouldn't somehow make matters worse.
Instead Reeft removed his lightsaber from his jacket and tucked it beneath the stack of leathers across his lap so that it was closer at hand. With the young punks showing no inclination of departing at any of the stops and continuing with too loud and still quite rude remarks, he kept a close eye in their direction.
The government worker was the first to make her way forward to depart. She gave Reeft's shoulder a little squeeze as she passed by, and then a sad smile as he acknowledged her compassion, before weaving her way through the sudden obstacle course of long legs jutting across the floor to impede her progress. Immediately Reeft stood and took his own step forward, but the punks pulled back and let her finish passing unmolested.
At that Reeft traded a scowl with Garen before the other turned his attention back to Obi-Wan and continued his slow murmurs of whatever manufactured and totally outrageous tale Garen was making up to distract their friend with. Reeft didn't sit down again until the government worker was gone from the transport. His attention was then sought by the young mother, who, with an urging from her daughter, was reaching across the aisle and offering a sealed container of water.
While inclined to decline the offer on general principle (in having been well trained to serve others instead of serving himself), he decided instead that Obi-Wan might indeed appreciate the liquid, as their only attempt to clear their throats had been with the brackish water from the broken main. He found himself searching through the pockets of Obi-Wan's jacket, knowing the other padawan always had some little trinket or something to hand out to children when he was out of the Temple, and so traded a small, delicately cut, glass drop for the bottle. The girl looked enchanted, the mother pleased, both for the trade and that he hadn't discounted such a heartfelt offer from her daughter. And Reeft found himself almost able to relax before giving thanks to the generosity of others instead of dwelling on their intolerance.
In yet another example of how aware he was of his surroundings despite his tall-tale weaving, Garen gestured with the hand he'd been using to keep Obi-Wan from pulling away for Reeft to take a drink first, then took a healthy swallow himself as it was passed over. While they both would have given up a day of free-time to drink more, neither took more than was necessary, which left a good two-thirds for Obi-Wan.
Who barely had enough energy and wherewithal to swallow, much less protest or refuse without more equally sharing.
"How much farther?" Reeft mouthed to Garen. Reeft had horrible time and direction-senses without being able to call upon the Force. Nor was he apt to explore the club levels of Coruscant on his own, and so hadn't really known where they'd been other than being able to feel the directional pull of the hundreds of other Jedi minds in the Temple previous to Obi-Wan’s injury.
Garen twisted his head over his shoulder to get his bearings, then held up four fingers. Reeft had to figure he meant forty minutes instead of four kilometers, since direct distances had little meaning on Coruscant when vertical distances were just as valid as horizontal ones. Of course a transport like this that needed to stop at set locations would take longer than had they hired a private vehicle.
Maybe five more minutes passed before Reeft's passive sentry duty was disrupted by Garen twisting again to look outside, an expression of distress abruptly clouding the other's features. Reeft raised his brow and looked himself, able to discern only that they'd changed directions but having no idea if that was a good thing or bad. But several other riders seemed to be getting agitated themselves, and so he had to figure this was not the scheduled route. He rose in consideration of heading forward to check on what was happening, but stopped after only taking a step as the public address system engaged.
"Noble sentients," started the announcement, "we apologize for this unscheduled delay. Due to a medical emergency, we need to divert from our route and are taking you to a debarkation station where you will be given assistance in transferring to other transports. You will also be given refund passes to utilize on some future trip. We predict only a thirty or forty minute delay for some of you."
Amidst the mutterings -- both good-natured and hostile -- Reeft heard their adversaries placing the blame on the undisclosed Jedi. Reeft had to wonder if they were right, or whether this was the result of yet another situation with someone else in even worse straits than Obi-Wan. Garen lifted his chin toward the front and Reeft nodded; a forty minute delay could prove disastrous. He'd need to check out their own transfer possibilities and see if he could contact the Temple for direct assistance instead.
The transport was already dropping to a landing pad as he began making his way forward -- or attempted to. A jungle of legs were thrust out before him, one of the young toughs actually going so far as to try and kick him directly, but which Reeft sidestepped deftly.
"Leave off," he warned the puffed-up punk while signaling to Garen to stay seated with Obi-Wan, not even having to look to know that the other two were rising in his defense. "I don't want any trouble, I'm just going to find out if there is any more information on what's going on, or if there is anything I can do to help."
"Maybe they don't want your help, mudboy," came from one of the previously quiet toughs.
At the same time their leader rose to his feet and stepped directly in Reeft's way. "Maybe you've found trouble any way, gooder," he then spat.
Reeft stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Do you really want to lose even more time by having to talk to the authorities?" he asked, keeping his tone reasonable. "I know I have better things planned for the day, and I'm sure you would rath--"
The other pushed against his shoulder. Reeft took a step backward, yet didn't contain his sigh this time. One of the first things young Jedi learned was how to ignore such petty posturing, those lessons sometimes even coming from actual experience and their fellow initiates, as Obi-Wan would be the first to acknowledge given his history with the not so lamented, former padawan and now deceased, Bruck Chun.
"Oh come now," and Reeft tried to put more tolerance in his tone. "You truly don't --"
This time he didn't break off because of what the punk was doing, but because the young daughter who had given them the water had slipped away from her mother's cautioning arms and was running up the aisle in what he feared was well meant, but ill-conceived support. This brought the mother up to her feet, and then the other three women, as well as more of the gang members. Reeft could see this becoming antagonistic, and had a moment's regret that he'd left his saber behind on his seat under their jackets; the sight of a lightsaber in hand had a way of commanding attention.
He debated calling it to him despite what such a use of the Force might do to Obi-Wan, figuring it couldn't be that much worse than an extended delay since to do so would take only seconds. But suddenly had his hands full trying to wrest the young daughter away from the gang leader before she successfully managed to kick the tough.
"You little sckrel --"
Reeft turned, letting the daughter go so that he might intercept the slap another of the gang had been aiming her way. He then needed duck under a punch, and in mere seconds the confrontation exploded into a physical altercation. The mother blocked yet another strike against her daughter before following it up with a well executed jab into the attacker's gut that had him doubling over and that bespoke of her having some form of security or military training. Then the other women waded in, as did several more passengers -- all against the belligerent punks.
For an instant Reeft lost sight of the gang leader as he was bowled over by someone else. A cry bellowed from somewhere up above him, then the sound of a much stronger strike against flesh between two fighters, cluing Reeft into the fact that Garen had joined in the fray. Reeft found himself looking around for Obi-Wan, quickly finding the other padawan trying to direct the daughter behind him and away from the danger but her unwilling, as well as seemingly fascinated by the sight of Obi-Wan's damaged eyes instead of being repulsed.
Nor did she seemed scared about the escalating battle.
A glancing blow across his cheek redirected Reeft's attention back to his own difficulties. He rolled away from his opponent, but his curiosity had slowed him in gaining his feet, then cost him even more -- perhaps too much more. Sudden agony stole his breath and, despite his training, he couldn't stop the instant rush of fear as from the corner of his eye, he watched a vibro-blade being withdrawn from his side.
It hurt, yet what pained him even more was realizing that his crumpling wasn't causing the fighters to step back in shock, that no one else had really even noticed that a weapon had been drawn and used. No, someone had. For abruptly the gang leader was flung back away from the scuffle in what could only have been the Force. Reeft forced himself to move his head Garen's direction, opening his mouth to stop his friend from causing Obi-Wan's collapse too. Blood drowned his words and throat, however, and in any case Reeft’s attempt proved worthless; it hadn't been Garen who'd noted and reacted so precipitously to his stabbing.
Guilt overrode Reeft's pain and increased his tears from the effort he needed to call upon to twist his head back toward Obi-Wan. His only solace was that Obi-Wan's audacious action had created the reaction his own trouble hadn't -- for a moment all participants in the brawl froze.
Reeft had little confidence this pause in the fighting would stand, however. Especially as Obi-Wan's effort on Reeft's behalf was now obviously a one-time thing, the other padawan's knees buckling despite the daughter's attempt to keep Obi-Wan upright.
That sight burned into the back of Reeft's eyelids as they involuntarily closed and he felt himself being turned to his side. He was unable to keep another flood of tears from escaping, or a low-throated cry despite the gentleness of Garen's touch. When he began to feel a warmth that could only be Force energy being applied directly to his wound, he cried out again and tried to pull away, only to be stopped not only by the fingers, but by a voice so unexpected that Reeft's eyes flew back open.
"Lie still, Padawan."
Not Garen, not even one of the women who'd championed them since their arrival. Somehow it was his own master who was kneeling behind him and, even more gently than her work to stop his bleeding, she was insinuating her presence into Reeft's mind, coaxing him to thin his shields and encouraging him to reach out to the Force to surrender his pain and panic.
"It's okay my valiant one," the Trianii soothed with her feline rasp. "Qui-Gon has already taken Obi-Wan to the medical transport and they are awaiting my ministrations to get you stable enough to be moved," she answered his unspoken concerns.
Reeft tried to blink away his tears and his confusion for now seeing that no one else stood or sat within his narrowed range of view, not Obi-Wan, not the daughter or her mother, any of the gang-bangers or even any of the other passengers. But --
"Silly, you passed into unconsciousness," she laughed in her lisped Basic. That bright and comforting sound helped Reeft as much as her shared energy and his own reaquataince with the Force. Surely she wouldn't be laughing if he was dying.
If Obi-Wan or Garen were. Or had.
But still he had to ask. "The others, Master? And the civilians?" For they too had risked their lives for no other reason that Reeft could think of other than they followed the Light no less faithfully than the Jedi.
"A few bumps and bruises amongst them -- any of them. The worst even the aggressors suffered was a broken wrist and a few of his fingers -- the one who attacked you."
Reeft wasn't surprised, except perhaps that Obi-Wan hadn't done more damage, especially with as erratic as his control would have had to have been. "And Obi-Wan?"
A furred hand brushed against Reeft's cheek, one of the things his most loved about his master -- the softness of her fur and the silkiness of the pads so at odds to his own leathery skin. "He didn't look good," she said with the honesty that had always existed between them. "But he seemed to be coming around with Qui-Gon's arrival and I'm sure his master will be able to help him."
Reeft didn't know whether to be happy or sad to hear this, and so let his own problems again take the forefront of his thoughts. Another soft touch and gentle infusion of energy came from his master before she shifted her hand underneath Reeft's neck and redirected the one that had been steadily pressing against the wound on his lower back to grip him just below his elbow.
"Ready to try and sit up, Padawan?"
Reeft sent a wave of affirmation across the training bond and braced himself for what was to come.
"I suppose their lover's bond is what led to us getting here in time," she was continuing after a shared grunt in getting Reeft started upright; although significantly taller than Reeft, being Trianii, her weight totaled less than half of his own.
Because even with the Force she would have had difficulty in completely supporting his weight, at least through the confining access through the transport, Reeft further steeled himself to rise the rest of the way on his own. Only to find his master was not the only one who had been behind him. A third hand was suddenly gripping Reeft's other elbow. Garen then lifted him to his feet and now the Dressellian could see Garen's master was also nearby.
With help from all three of them, Reeft made his way to the front of the transport and out to the landing pad, his face flaming a deep charcoal when as the door opened, they were greeted with a round of applause and cheers. It looked as if at least a third of the passengers had foregone their own business to assure themselves of Reeft's well-being, the three women and the mother and daughter waiting in the very front.
"And you thought they were there just out of concern for Obi-Wan?" Garen laughed in his ear, then laughed harder when Reeft blushed yet again to near the color of the tarmac now beneath their feet. Reeft never got the girl -- especially the human ones -- despite his care and attention to his appearance. In truth, Garen didn't often either if Obi-Wan was with them, despite the fact that Obi-Wan did prefer men. Well, one man. Now and for forever, Reeft suspected.
He just hoped forever would be a long, long time to come.