On Ebon Wings, Ere I Breathe: Trust
by Flamethrower
Title: On Ebon Wings, Ere I Breathe
Book 4 - Trust
Author: Flamethrower
Archive: MA & my Archive
Category: Q/O, AU, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, Boatloads of Angst
Rating: M
Warning: The entire series is rather dark & depressing, but what do you expect from a crossover based on The Crow?
Spoilers: Read Books 1 & 2 if you're running behind.
Summary: "Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree." -Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Notes: This is a long-term project of mine, begun in 2002, that's just now nearing completion. This fic has gone a long, long, long, LONG way without ever having been published in its entirety, and only my betas and artists have seen anything beyond the first book. I'm relieved and sad and horrified to see it done. There are seven books in all. I'll be publishing one book per month.
All artwork for the series can be found here.
And hey, I still need covers for books 2-7, and artwork for the inside. Please to be helping me, yes? :)
Feedback: Please? I'll try to be better about prompt replies...
Thanks: WriteStuff & Merry Amelie for primary beta-work and boot camp, Laura for constant, nagging encouragement ;) and everyone else who's joined this ride. Hope you're having fun!
Disclaimer: No money made, no profit intended, please don't sue I'm too poor...
Potential
I often think that the night is more alive and
more richly colored than the day.
-Vincent Van Gogh
The burst of frenetic energy Obi-Wan had displayed was gone before the last drops of water from the shower could dry on his skin. Some part of Qui-Gon was, quite honestly, disturbed and upset and nervous. To have Obi-Wan in his life again was literally a dream come true, but an Avatar? Despite their frantic coupling, when he'd been able to feel Obi-Wan's desire like it was his own, Qui-Gon's mind was still reeling. He had questions that demanded answers, and his emotional state was far from serene. However, the rest of Qui-Gon was content to live in the moment. One step at a time, one minute at a time. That was the way forward, and he would be damned if he would give up the chance that Fate had granted him.
His questions would have to wait, as even an Avatar had limits. When Qui-Gon mentioned that there was crew quarters empty and available for sleeping in, Obi-Wan had taken one look at the distance left to walk and snorted his amusement before striding wearily up the Temple ship's ramp instead. Without hesitation, Qui-Gon followed.
The droids who had tossed the ship couldn't have put together a better nest for their rest if the tin-headed things had tried. The bunks were next to useless, but lying on their piled-up clothing, Obi-Wan's skin pressed against his own, was one of the most comfortable experiences of his existence. Obi-Wan was asleep the moment they were settled together, his head tucked under Qui-Gon's chin; after a few moments of breathing in the clean scent of Obi-Wan's hair and skin, Qui-Gon was, too.
Qui-Gon didn't know how much later it was when the body next to his own stirred and began to move away, but he was awake enough to remember that he didn't want that warmth to go. He tightened his arm around Obi-Wan's waist and grumbled.
"I'll stay, then," Obi-Wan replied, his voice laced with teasing amusement and affection.
The next time he awoke it was slow and gradual, a rare privilege in his life. He felt well-rested, a first in many years, and as he stretched his legs he became aware that he was alone. "Ben?"
I'm here, was the reply. On the bridge, with Anakin and Asa.
Qui-Gon dressed quickly in clothes that hadn't been ocean-drenched, stopping only long enough to gulp down a mug of the bitter tea from the ship's galley. By the time he made it to the bridge, he was treated to the sight of Anakin and Obi-Wan facing off against each other, white lightsaber crossed with blue. The woman that Obi-Wan kept calling Asa, Ventress, was sitting on the command chair on the observation platform above them, watching their moves with sharp, intelligent eyes. She was still swirling gray in the Force, no longer Darkened, and the lack of Dark power made her seem small and child-like.
Qui-Gon shook his head, feeling newfound sympathy for her as he stepped closer. Seventeen years old and without a Master-or any kind of Jedi influence-for the last two. No wonder the girl had almost been swallowed whole by the Dark Side.
"May I join you?" he asked, and Ventress raised startled, pale blue eyes to look up at him.
"I... yes," she said. "Please," she added a moment later, as if long unused to the idea of manners. She waved to the seat next to hers before clasping her hands on her lap, her fingers twisted together nervously.
"Thank you." He noticed her edginess but said nothing, only settling onto the chair, his eyes fixed on the practice duel below. Even a blind man would have picked up on the wounded-animal behavior that Ventress was displaying, but Qui-Gon had long experience with such things. Companionable silence often worked when words never would.
He could tell by the sweat that soaked Anakin's hair that the duel had been going on for some time, but there was no hint of a strain on Obi-Wan's face. In fact, he looked like he was having a blast, the wry grin so familiar that it made Qui-Gon's heart twist in his chest. How many times had he faced his Padawan on a practice mat, the younger man wearing just such an expression?
"You know, for someone who is balls-up bad at the Jar'Kai, you're driving me nuts!" Anakin complained, after the two had exchanged a flurry of blows that gained neither one the upper hand.
"For all you know, that's my intent," Obi-Wan replied, his grin widening. "How long can I make you dance before you lose your temper and do something foolish?"
Anakin frowned. "If I had two blades, you'd already be down, Ben."
Obi-Wan skipped backwards as Anakin advanced, teasing and leading the young Padawan on. "But you don't-" Obi-Wan ducked and danced aside-"have two blades, do you?"
Oh, yes, Qui-Gon thought, watching the exchange. Obi-Wan had the confidence of the Knight he'd never had the chance to be in life, no doubt honed by his nightly journeys through Coruscant's mid- and lower levels. It was wonderful to see, and left him fighting the old grief once more, because all too soon he would be gone again.
Follow your own damn advice, you old fool, Qui-Gon told himself sternly. He forced himself to observe his current Padawan, whose eyes had gone flat, a clear sign that Anakin was considering losing his temper. After years of training it was difficult to rouse, but that particular demon was by no-means tamed.
Despite that, however, it was easy to see that Obi-Wan and Anakin were well-matched in skill and strength. Obi-Wan was used to fighting a taller opponent; Anakin was used to trying to keep up with Siri Tachi's Padawan, Ferus Olin, who was a good two inches shorter than Obi-Wan. It was in tactics and patience that Obi-Wan had the upper hand, and it showed. Anakin relied on technique to the point where he forgot to incorporate his surroundings, or to consider the psychological perspective any battle contained. Qui-Gon figured that in another three minutes, the duel would be over, and Anakin would likely be repeating the meditation on patience.
The console in front of Asajj Ventress began chiming an alarm, and the young woman glared at it. "Obi-Wan," she said, before turning it off. "Two minutes before hyperspace reversal. And you should be sitting here at that point instead of me," she continued, the barest hint of a smile on her pale face.
"Absolutely," Obi-Wan agreed, both he and Anakin shutting down their lightsabers. "Another time, Anakin?" he suggested.
"Count on it," Anakin agreed, grinning.
Qui-Gon, meanwhile, was frowning at the display on his own console. "I slept for two days?" he asked, stunned to realize that they were already in Coruscant space.
"Yeah, Master," Anakin said, walking up the ramp with Obi-Wan before taking a seat at the weapons station. "Ben and I had entire conversations over your head, and you didn't so much as twitch."
"I think you needed the rest," Obi-Wan said, taking the seat next to him as Ventress stood up, retreating to the rear of the bridge. There was a slightly reproachful look in his gaze. Obi-Wan would understand, now, why such a rest might have been necessary.
I'm sorry, Qui-Gon sent. There was no bond between them, nothing that he could feel, but he knew that his words would be heard, just as he had heard Obi-Wan's upon waking.
That makes two of us, Obi-Wan replied, smiling, before turning his attention back to the console. The second alarm didn't even have a chance to blare before the Confederate corvette dropped out of hyperspace, guided by Obi-Wan's expert hand. The moment the stars became single white points, the comm came alive, filled with the deep, harsh voice of one of Fett's many cloned soldiers. "Confederate Vessel Enforcer, you are cleared for immediate approach and landing on Platform Seventy-five Alpha-Jay. Try not to deviate from our approved course, and we'll try not to shoot you down."
Obi-Wan scowled at the comm before responding. "Thank you very much for such vast assurance. Approaching Platform Seventy-five Alpha-Jay, as planned."
"Acknowledged, Vessel Enforcer. Be advised that all prisoners will be transferred over to the custody of the Republic military."
"Acknowledged," Obi-Wan replied, and then cut the comm. "Like hell you're getting Asa," he growled. "Asa is a Jedi matter, and you don't have authority over us, you arrogant, self-righteous bastards."
"I take it you don't like our new military?" Anakin asked lightly. Both he and Qui-Gon had had first-hand experience with Jango Fett, and neither of them was in a hurry to embrace thousands of his clones with open arms.
"No," Obi-Wan said, narrowing his eyes. "They keep shooting me. Don't worry, Asa," he said, half-turning in his seat to reassure the woman. "You're coming back to the Temple with us."
"I hope so," Ventress murmured, drawing her cloak forward and wrapping it around herself. "I do not think your Republic will be very fond of me."
Anakin left the weapons station to stand behind Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's chairs. "Are you sure we'll be able to keep her away from the military?"
"Yes, even if I have to mind-trick the entire lot. They'll get their hands on Asa over my dead body," Obi-Wan said cheerfully.
Qui-Gon paused, turning his head to stare at Obi-Wan. "That was horrible."
Obi-Wan smiled. "You said you'd missed the puns."
"I take it back."
Excess of grief for the dead is madness;
for it is an injury to the living, and the dead know it not.
-Xenophon
"We send you out to stop a potential ally of the Sith," Mace said, looking at Obi-Wan, then at Qui-Gon and Anakin. It was a full Council that had greeted them, prompted by their unusual return. "You come back to us with a captured Confederate ship, a slew of political prisoners, and a..."
"Padawan," Obi-Wan supplied helpfully, when Mace turned his concerned gaze to Asajj Ventress.
Agen Kolar, the Master appointed to replace Eeth Koth, snorted his opinion of that. "The only proof we have on her status as a Padawan to Ky Narec is her word."
"And my word means nothing, then?" Obi-Wan asked, giving the newest Council member a narrow look.
"You're very young, Knight Lars," Master Kolar replied, his tone just shy of condescending. If his words were meant to be reassuring, they failed miserably.
Maybe it was from being dead. Maybe it was because he was a Knight, and had no reason to fear the Council any longer. Either way, Master Agen Kolar irritated the hell out of Obi-Wan. "Tell you what: You go and ask Ky Narec about her training. Let me know how that goes, hmm?"
Qui-Gon's expression didn't change, but Obi-Wan could feel the man's amusement as easily as he could breathe. Anakin's lower lip disappeared as the Padawan bit down on it. Yoda treated Obi-Wan to a look that clearly told him that the old Master approved, even if he could never voice such an opinion.
Kolar smiled. "I can't speak to the dead, Knight Lars, and the dead don't speak to us. Such a thing is not possible."
As if they were part of one body, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Qui-Gon, and all the members of the Council of Six turned to stare at Agen Kolar. Even Asa looked bemused.
"What?" the Zabrak Master snapped.
"Nothing," Obi-Wan said, though it took every single bit of his training to maintain an innocent look. Anakin was having no such luck. He had resorted to ducking his head, and was studying the floor with bright-eyed intensity. "Debate all you like; it won't change the truth. This is Asajj Ventress of Rattatak, Padawan to Knight Ky Narec from the age of ten until his death when she was fifteen Standard. She is also currently the Warlord of Rattatak, and thus a valuable ally, regardless of what this Council thinks of her training."
Depa Billaba stood up, walking over to stand in front of Asa, who had planted herself firmly at Obi-Wan's side upon entering the Council chamber. "Do you know who I am?" the soft-voiced woman asked. Asa shook her head. "I am Master Depa Billaba. Your Master, Ky, was my Padawan."
Asa's eyes went wide, shimmering with the faint hint of tears. "Oh," she whispered. "You're her. Master would tell me about you, sometimes. He said you were very kind to him, even when he didn't deserve it."
"Ky always gave himself far too little credit," Depa agreed sadly. "He went missing years ago, but when I searched for him, I could never pinpoint his exact location. For a long time, I contented myself with the fact that my Padawan still lived. Then, one day, I felt his passing in the Force, and have lived with a great deal of regret since then. I would... like it very much if you could tell me about Ky's last years with you, Asajj."
Asa nodded, another one of her faint smiles appearing on her face. "I would be honored to, Master Billaba," she said, though she did take a quick look at Obi-Wan. He nodded, letting her know of her continued safety with the simple movement. Asa and Master Billaba left together, and before the doors closed behind them he saw Asa reach out and take the older woman's hand.
"The matter of Ventress's training is not a pressing matter, and as Knight Lars pointed out, she is still a valuable ally to have gained," Mace said, pinning Kolar with a glare when the other Master seemed to want to speak further. "Master Yoda and I will speak to Master Billaba after she has spent time evaluating Ventress, and we will discuss the matter again at that time. The military has taken possession of the Confederate vessel." Mace's eyes flashed with irritation. A decade ago, the ship would have been a Jedi acquisition, Obi-Wan knew, but thanks to the Chancellor's emergency powers, and the military, such an idea was a thing of the past.
Yoda smiled at Obi-Wan, a hint of mischief in his expression. "A mission you have shared, and good work you have done. Tolerate Master Qui-Gon and his Padawan you can, Ben?"
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye, fighting the urge to smile. "Yes, Master Yoda, I do believe they can be tolerated."
"And you, Master Qui-Gon? Work with Ben Lars, you can?"
Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a similar look, but did not bother hiding his smile. "If I must," he said, with the air of the long-suffering.
"Hmph," Yoda said, and chuckled. "Fooling me, you two are not. Home you should go. Dismissed you are," he said, waving his gimer stick at them.
"We'll talk again later," Mace confirmed. "May the Force be with you."
Displacement
It was Anakin who spoke first, after they left the chamber and found an unoccupied section of hallway. A glass wall that stretched from floor to ceiling revealed an evening view of Coruscant, the sky a deep reddish-orange as the sun set for the day. "Did we... just get the evening off?"
Qui-Gon snorted, giving his Padawan an amused look. "There's no such thing."
"Mm," Obi-Wan agreed, all of his attention on the window and its view of the skyline. The Senate rotunda was visible in the distance, surrounded by traffic as Senate and staff tried to go home for the day. Jeimor cocked his head and shifted his feet, muttering under his breath.
"I see you," Obi-Wan whispered, and it was like great black wings fluttered, temporarily veiling the sun. Qui-Gon's skin broke out in gooseflesh at the sensation, at the sudden perception of loss of light.
"Creep-y," Anakin murmured, wide-eyed as he took in Obi-Wan's distant stare. "Is it the Sith?"
Obi-Wan nodded, bringing his right hand up and resting his palm on the glass. "He's looking this way, but he doesn't know why."
"Good," Qui-Gon found himself saying, his voice fierce. "The less he realizes, the better our chances."
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, dropping his hand and turning. He and Qui-Gon stared at each other; Obi-Wan was less Jedi and far more Avatar at that moment: ethereal, otherworldly.
Then Obi-Wan smiled and glanced at Anakin, and the sensation vanished. "Let's go see your wife, Padawan Skywalker."
Anakin sighed. "What's the point of it being a secret if everyone knows?" He smiled back. "Sure, why not. What for?"
"Time for that talk you've been putting off," Obi-Wan said, his expression turning serious. "Time to discuss Tatooine with your Master."
Anakin's smile didn't fade so much as it collapsed. "Tatooine? Now?" Anakin whispered, his shoulders dropping, like he was attempting to curl in on himself. Qui-Gon glanced at them both curiously, confused by the sudden change to such an obscure topic.
"Yep!" Obi-Wan nodded, hooking his right arm though Anakin's left in classic escort position. "Right now."
Whoso neglects learning in his youth,
loses the past and is dead for the future.
-Euripides
The Senator of Naboo hugged Anakin the moment he stepped off of the lift. "I heard about Bestine IV," Padmé said, and then embraced Qui-Gon as well. "I'm glad you're both all right."
Then she noticed Obi-Wan, who'd been leaning casually against the lift wall, and raised an eyebrow. "Welcome back, Ben," she said, and noticed Anakin's sheepish look. "I take it you told them?"
"It was rather difficult to avoid, being as they witnessed me take a shot to the head. Just like someone else managed to do," he continued as he stepped off the lift, glaring at Captain Typho.
The security chief for the Naboo contingent winced. "I said I was sorry, Knight Lars. Between you, that bird, and Aurra Sing, it was difficult trying to figure out which of you was the threat."
"Next time, shoot the known bounty hunter first," Obi-Wan retorted.
"Aurra Sing was after you?" Anakin whispered, and enveloped his wife in another hug. "And you decided not to mention this why?"
"Because I have an overprotective Jedi husband who would have tried neglecting his duty," Padmé retorted, leaning back to glare up at Anakin. "I was fine, Ani."
Captain Typho was still eying Obi-Wan. Jeimor, on Obi-Wan's shoulder, gave the security captain a sardonic look and pointedly shook his head. It was the last straw for Typho: "Milady, if you don't mind, I'll leave the four of you alone to speak privately."
"That's a great idea!" Obi-Wan agreed, smiling at Typho, who managed to turn a shade paler than he already had. "You look like you could use some tea."
"Go ahead, Captain," Padmé said, nodding, and Typho wasted no time in departing. "You make him nervous," she continued lightly, once the man had gone.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Senator Amidala, I make everyone nervous."
Qui-Gon took in the pane of glass in the Senator's floor to ceiling view of Coruscant's skyline. There were new sensors on each corner, and the glass was even thicker than before. "I take it you're one of our mysterious allies on the Loyalist's Committee."
Padmé nodded, shedding her formal overdress and draping it over one of the chairs before she sat down in it. "As far as anyone knows, there is no such group, and yet the bounty hunters come back," she said, blowing out an impatient breath.
"I don't get it. What is with this group, and who's in it?" Anakin asked, settling down one of the apartment's richly upholstered couches, directly across from the wife he wasn't yet supposed to have. Qui-Gon sighed; Anakin's marriage had calmed his Padawan's nerves as nothing else had been able to. For that, if for no other reason, he would gladly keep his knowledge of their relationship from Council ears.
"That can wait," Obi-Wan said, interrupting any further questions. "We're here for you, first, Anakin Skywalker, and it must be now."
Anakin blinked for a moment, as if thrown by the statement, and then his expression tightened, became a grim mask. "All... all right."
He began to speak, hesitant, and when he faltered, Padmé took up the tale, relating their first two days together on Naboo, and the nightmares that had plagued Anakin from the time they departed Coruscant until that final morning in the lake house. The Padawan had been torn between duty and what the Force had been screaming at him; Padmé had solved the dilemma by pointing out that no one was likely to be looking for Senator Amidala on Tatooine. The similarities to the time the three of them had spent together on Tatooine over a decade ago did not escape Qui-Gon's notice. Then the tale of the search began, and Qui-Gon could only listen in growing horror.
"I killed every living thing in my path," Anakin said at last, his voice soft. His blue eyes were focused on nothing, his expression slack, but his hands were clenched into tight fists. "I didn't even... I didn't even realize it until later, when Mom was home and I found myself in the garage. I could barely think beyond knowing that the local healer said she was going to be okay. I just couldn't stop thinking that if I'd waited one more day, if we hadn't left Naboo right then, if I'd ignored the dreams and kept waiting and wondering-"
Qui-Gon watched, his heart aching for his Padawan, for the truth that had to be spoken. His Padawan had almost Fallen, had almost become something worse than Xanatos had ever conceived of being, and he'd had no idea. Had felt nothing of it. Nothing.
"I just... it started coming back, in flashes, that I'd killed any Tusken who'd tried to block my way out of camp. It didn't matter if they were armed or not. I wasn't seeing weapons anymore, anyway. They were just... obstacles. Like they were nothing." Anakin took a shaky breath. "Padmé, she came downstairs and started talking to me, trying to make me respond."
"He was just wandering around like an automaton," Padmé said softly. She was watching him with worried, sympathetic eyes. Her knees were drawn up, her arms wrapped around her legs, the long hem of her evening gown hiding her feet from view. "I knew he went into the desert intent on finding Shmi, but when he came back it was like... at first it was like he hadn't come back at all."
Obi-Wan was perched on one of the Senator's chairs, Jeimor still on his shoulder. In the dim evening light, accented by the flickering candles in the Senator's apartment, Obi-Wan seemed to be watching Anakin with eyes that were almost as amber as any crow's. "I've seen that before," he murmured, glancing at Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon nodded faintly; recovering from Tahl's loss had been a long, dark road, fraught with moments like these. Tahl, his last surviving childhood friend, tortured to death so that damned pirate could try out the effects of his new drugs. Qui-Gon imagined that losing a parent to torture would feel far worse, be far more temping path to Darkness. Shmi had lived, and still her son had almost lost himself.
"As I started talking to her, little by little, I remembered feeling them die." Anakin closed his eyes, tears running freely down his cheeks. "I orphaned most of the tribe's children. I'm just glad... glad that I didn't hurt them, too. Because I don't think I would have noticed if I had. Not until it was too late."
"And then what happened?" Qui-Gon asked gently, hating to press, needing to know.
"And then I burst into tears, right in front of her," Anakin said, and sniffed hard before wiping his eyes. "I couldn't believe it, but I couldn't forget it! It was... ah, Master, I wish you had been there," he added, glancing beseechingly at Qui-Gon. No recrimination in his gaze, but gods, it made Qui-Gon's heart ache with guilt regardless.
"I really don't know what I would have... Padmé kept me from losing my mind," Anakin said, glancing across the room at his wife, who smiled at him. "If she hadn't been there, I don't know... things would have been bad. I pulled myself together with her help, and when we received your emergency call from Geonosis I more or less had my head on straight again. But I should have spoken to you about this before now-and I wanted to! It just... stopped seeming as important."
Obi-Wan jerked his head in Anakin's direction, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Anakin blinked, taken aback by the sudden interest. "I... I dunno, really. Padmé wanted me to discuss it with Master Qui-Gon, no matter what was going on with the Separatists. I'd agree with her; I really did want to talk to you about it, Master," he said, giving Qui-Gon a worried, guilty look. "I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant or anything, but I didn't want-I don't want to ever do anything like that again." He shivered. "But then something would happen, or we'd be assigned another dispute mission, and it just didn't seem like I should bring up Tatooine at all."
Obi-Wan dropped down from the chair he'd been abusing and walked across the room. The energy coming from him at that moment was a near-tangible thing, once again more Avatar than Jedi Knight. "Tell me something, Anakin. Were you on Coruscant when you lost interest in talking about Tatooine?"
Anakin opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again, looking baffled. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."
"Every time?" Obi-Wan pressed, close enough that he was almost nose to nose with Anakin.
Anakin half-shut his eyes and took a deep breath, as if pulling in the power that Obi-Wan was broadcasting in that moment. When he opened his eyes again, there was certainty where none had been before. "Every time."
"Damn," Obi-Wan muttered, and stalked over to Padmé's massive window. Jeimor left Obi-Wan's shoulder, landing awkwardly on the back of the couch before folding his wings. With Padmé's apartment located in the heart of the Senate District, the Senate Dome dominated the scene like an overbearing jewel, brightening Coruscant's evening with its massive lights.
Qui-Gon's skin had broken out in goose bumps again, but there was a roiling surge of protective anger forming in his belly. "No fucking Sith Lord is going to lay a hand on my Padawan!" he snarled. Not again. Not by death or by Darkness, by the Force!
Anakin went wide-eyed at Qui-Gon's harsh tone. "Master, that's not going to happen," he said, visibly distressed but trying to reassure him.
"No, it isn't, and you've learned exactly why," Qui-Gon answered; Anakin flushed but continued to meet his Master's eyes. "Learn the lesson well, Padawan. The worst Darkness to face is what we carry inside ourselves. You've seen it, now, and knowing of it, you can learn to overcome it."
"Wise counsel," Padmé murmured.
Obi-Wan snorted out an amused laugh. "True counsel," he countered.
Anakin managed a lopsided smile. "So what was yours, Obi-Wan? Your internal battle?"
"Fear," Obi-Wan said. His eyes were focused on the Senate District, but his attention was on those who sat behind him. "For the most part, fear that was conquered early on. Rather like you, I had the Force screaming in my head that there was something that must happen, that the event happening depended solely upon me. My point of view at the time was that there was very little I could do to make it happen. Very frustrating place to be."
"What was it?" Padmé asked, curious.
"My apprenticeship," Obi-Wan replied, which made Anakin smile.
"I've heard this story," he said, glancing at Qui-Gon, who lowered his head in acknowledgement. "Master Qui-Gon's stubbornness on one side, and the Force on the other. Talk about being stuck between two insurmountable obstacles."
Obi-Wan nodded, lips quirking in a quick, wry smile. "The Force was telling me in no uncertain terms that not only did I need to become a Jedi apprentice, I had to be his apprentice," he said, tilting his head in Qui-Gon's direction. "Qui-Gon, however, was telling me in very certain terms that it wasn't going to happen."
"You were refusing to train him?" Padmé looked outraged. She had gleaned much from Anakin about the Jedi way of life, had learned more while preparing for her service as a Senator on Coruscant, possibly had even gleaned details from her time spent with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan years ago. It was quite likely that Padmé Amidala understood what a travesty Qui-Gon Jinn had been in the midst of committing. "Why?"
Qui-Gon hesitated, thinking over his words carefully to best answer her question without leaving them all telling stories that would last through the night. "Time will only heal wounds if you allow them to be healed," he said at last. "When Obi-Wan and I were first brought together due to the circumstances we found ourselves in, I was... I was not a very nice person," he admitted. "Unhealed wounds lead only to bitterness, and it wasn't until I realized that a twelve year-old boy was acting more the Jedi Knight than I was that I realized how far I had fallen, what kind of person I had become. I was only seeing part of who he was, just as I was only a shadow of who I had once been. It wasn't until he offered to die to save others who were trapped that I started looking beneath the surface-not just Obi-Wan, but of everything around me, things that I had neglected for years." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "And yet it was still another five years before I truly learned the lesson. I lost a dear friend and almost lost Obi-Wan because of my stubbornness, my refusal to learn."
"Five years?" Anakin looked both sympathetic and horrified.
"And now that you have learned to recognize the fear that fuels your anger, perhaps it will not take you nearly as long as it did me to learn the lesson," Qui-Gon said, giving his Padawan a reassuring smile. "But it does mean you'll have to make reparations, somehow." Anakin's Trials for Knighthood might be the perfect opportunity for such a thing. Qui-Gon would have to keep that thought in mind.
"Er... not that I don't want to, but how do you make amends with the dead?"
Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder back at them. "Really?" he said to Anakin, a blatant smirk on his face.
Anakin flinched, but managed to smile back. "Stupid question, right?"
"Just a bit." Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the window and lowered his head. Coruscant's city lights were reflected on his face and eyes in chaotic patterns. "I don't understand how you all can't sense it. It's so blatant, so Dark. It's everywhere! How can I be the only one who can feel this Sith's anger?!"
"You, ah, do have a bit of an extra thing going for you there," Anakin pointed out.
Obi-Wan shook his head, the entire line of his body speaking of impatience. "The Force is the Force; the rest doesn't matter. How the hell can he hide this from everyone? From the Council? From any Jedi?"
"Carefully," Qui-Gon said, meeting Anakin's worried gaze. "One day at a time, one layer at a time. If you build a shield a bit by bit, what is there to notice?"
"Coruscant's a big place." Anakin narrowed his eyes, following his Master's line of thought. "The Force does so much on this planet; it fluctuates day to day, minute to minute. Who's going to notice one little alteration here, one little change there?"
"Changes over time. Slowly. Insidiously," Qui-Gon said, nodding.
"I guess Sidious is a good Sith name for him, then," Anakin said, shivering and rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sidious?" Obi-Wan half-turned to face them, his eyes washed of almost all color. "That's his name?"
Qui-Gon and Anakin both nodded. Padmé breathed out an annoyed sigh. She'd defended her home planet from one Sith already. Finding another Sith-based confrontation looming before her was probably not all that appealing.
"Huh." Obi-Wan turned back to the window, but he held up his hands, palms out, and in the window's reflection Qui-Gon could see him close his eyes.
"He wants the powerful one. Skywalker."
Qui-Gon jerked in his chair, unnerved by the whisper of sound that sounded like and yet unlike Obi-Wan. "Ben?"
Obi-Wan didn't move, didn't turn. "The son of the Suns is the vengeance of the Sith," he whispered, his voice low and thready and not quite his. And then: "This plan of yours has failed, Lord Sidious. We dare not go against the Jedi."
"Has Queen Amidala signed the treaty?"
"-Darth Maul. He will find your lost ship."
"They're here, Master. On Tatooine. With the boy. Your Skywalker."
Padmé and Anakin stared at each other. "The Sith knew about me?" Anakin whispered, shocked and pale.
"They weren't supposed to make it back here alive!" Fury in the voice that was not-Obi-Wan.
"Then you wanted your Chosen One dead, Master?" Sarcasm, laced with fear. Maul the apprentice, little more than a hiss of breath.
"That young fool is going back to Naboo. Let the Nemoidians deal with her. I don't need a treaty for what must be done. Kill the Jedi. Be certain that Master Jinn dies, as the boy has bonded with him already. This kind of support must not be allowed to stand, not for the Prophecy to succeed."
Qui-Gon felt his blood run cold. He'd been wrong. Obi-Wan hadn't Seen his own death. He'd known that Qui-Gon himself was going to die in that damned duel.
And he'd refused to let it happen. Had chosen to protect Qui-Gon-even, in a way, to protect Anakin, despite what he'd said of the boy's potential for danger.
Or had that been part of the manipulation, keeping Qui-Gon angry, distracted, unaware of the careful unraveling of the bond they'd shared for so long?
Gods.
"What is he doing?" Padmé whispered the question, both of her hands clutched to her breast.
Jeimor tilted his head and let out a raucous caw. -He's reading time.-
The three of them turned as one unit to stare at the crow. "Holy shit, you do talk!" Anakin gasped.
Jeimor sighed and fluffed his feathers, as if Anakin was only restating the obvious. He turned his head and gave Qui-Gon a stern look. -Help him.-
When the others did not react, Qui-Gon realized the crow had meant the words only for him. "What? Why?"
As if on cue, Obi-Wan spoke again. "The currents of the Force have changed. Events no longer favor the outcome they have whispered of for so long. This must not stand. The revenge of the Sith must not be denied." The Sith, his voice a rasp of anger. Obi-Wan's eyes were open again, wide and unseeing.
"So amusing, Lord Sidious. So many Senators under your sway, and yet they know nothing of your existence."
Qui-Gon froze, chilled to hear an approximation of his former Master's voice. Reading time. Obi-Wan was reading things that had been said on Coruscant, or broadcast through its airwaves. Dooku had belonged to Sidious far longer than Qui-Gon had been willing to believe, even when he'd been confronted by Dooku's guise of Darth Tyrannus on Geonosis.
-You may keep thinking of Obi-Wan like an Avatar, but he's still human, and you lot aren't meant to read fucking time- the crow retorted. -Bash him over the head if you have to, but make him stop!-
Without further thought, Qui-Gon launched himself forward. He tackled Obi-Wan from behind, bouncing both of their bodies off of the nigh-impenetrable glass window before they fell to the floor in a heap.
Obi-Wan groaned aloud before uttering a raspy laugh. "Thanks."
Qui-Gon propped himself up on his right elbow, watching as a bruise on Obi-Wan's temple formed and faded in the time it took for him to take three breaths. He stared at his former Padawan, Dooku temporarily forgotten as he felt that overwhelming grief all over again. "You should have told me," he whispered, not surprised to find his eyes burning with unshed tears.
Obi-Wan rolled over onto his side and took Qui-Gon's left hand in his own, letting their fingers slide together. His eyes were somewhere between washed out gray and brilliant blue-green, somewhere between life and death. "Yes," he agreed, and there was a wealth of sadness in his expression. "I should have. I didn't think so then, but I certainly know it now. I should have bashed your shields in to get you to listen to me, and I didn't. I... I honestly don't remember if I even tried."
Qui-Gon thought about one quiet moment, when his Padawan's unsteady fingers had pulled tangled hairs from his beard, tucking them back into place with gentle touches, his eyes not-quite meeting Qui-Gon's gaze. He remembered being baffled, being touched by Obi-Wan's thoughtfulness... and nothing beyond that, his thoughts already on the day to come. Not once did he take one moment to realize how out-of-character for Obi-Wan the motion had been. His Padawan did not touch people often, and tender touches were offered even less so.
He wouldn't have listened. Oh, gods. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and buried his face against Obi-Wan's chest, even as Padmé and Anakin talked above them, trying to find out if they were all right. He shut it out, too absorbed by the realization that he'd been right all along. He truly was to blame for Obi-Wan's death, just not in the way he'd once believed.
"Now that is nonsense," Obi-Wan muttered, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon. "You're going to absolve me of my own responsibility, then?"
Qui-Gon raised his head to argue the point-as the Master, he was the responsible party-when he saw a reflection of pale blue light in Obi-Wan's eyes that stopped him cold. A memory that had been lost returned in a rush, buried under the days of torture and the battle that had followed it. "He told me," Qui-Gon said faintly, stunned.
"What?" Anakin asked, as Qui-Gon got up to settle on his knees, offering Obi-Wan a hand up out of habit, relieved when the offer was accepted. His Avatairee was watching him with pale gray eyes. "Who?"
"Dooku. Tyrannus. Whoever the hell he was at the time," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head, angry at himself for the lapse. There was no excuse for that. None. "I'd forgotten."
His Master was stalking around the static Force trap, casual in word and motion, as if Qui-Gon wasn't a prisoner and Dooku not his captor. Between the posturing and Dooku's refusal to admit to Fett's presence, the lies were already thick in the air.
"It's a great pity about your Padawan, Qui-Gon," Dooku said, halting his steps. "I did always want to say so, but it seems our paths were not destined to cross until now. I am sorry for your loss. Obi-Wan was a credit to the Order, and to you."
Qui-Gon managed to incline his head gracefully, though really, his Darkened Master mentioning Obi-Wan made him want to growl at the older man. "Thank you."
"I wish he were still alive. We could both use his help right now, I believe."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. Obi-Wan, help Dooku? Not with his Padawan's very strict sense of honor. The idea was laughable. "I don't think Obi-Wan would have had much use for your Separatist cause, Master."
Dooku tilted his head, his expression solemn. "Do not be too sure, my Padawan. If he were to hear the truth that I am about to impart to you, I believe he might have thought differently. You may change your mind, also."
He narrowed his eyes. Dooku was playing games, and as ever, he was as skilled opponent. It was so damned difficult to tell when Dooku was lying or being honest! "What truth?"
Dooku smiled, but there was no pleasure in the expression. "What if I told you that the Republic was under complete control of the Sith?"
Qui-Gon's eyes widened. That was one statement he did not expect, and, the very thought...! "I would find your words to be rather suspect," he managed.
"You think the Council would have noticed, that your own gifts with the Living Force would have told you such a thing." Dooku shook his head. "The Dark side of the Force has clouded your minds, all of you. Hundreds of Senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord who calls himself Sidious."
You're not supposed to be so blind with patriotism that you can't face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who says it.
-Malcolm X
Sidious, Lord of the Sith. A presence so Dark it had invoked the presence of an Avatairee, an Avatar of the Force, or perhaps something beyond the Force. Qui-Gon stared down at the Senate Dome, his lips pinched into a thin, angry line. A Sith who wanted his current Padawan, who'd all but ensured the death of his last Padawan, and who, Qui-Gon suspected, might have driven his own Master mad. He'd shared all that he'd learned with Padmé, Anakin, and Obi-Wan, but for that last thought. There was too much anger there, on all fronts, for that suspicion to be given due consideration as of yet.
Dooku had spoken the truth when he could have lied. Dooku had genuinely believed the Republic to be in dire trouble.
The Republic was in dire trouble. The galaxy's governing core was crumbling, and it would fall while riding on the back of an army so massive its like had never before been seen.
Who am I, Qui-Gon wondered, that so much Darkness seems to swirl around my very existence? Normally he would have chided himself for the self-centered thought, but it didn't feel egocentric, not now. Xanatos and Dooku, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Shmi: all victims of one sort or another. Valorum's political downfall had predated the rise of the very corporations who now made up the political and financial backbone of the Confederacy, joined by a Senate that had voted itself into uselessness. All of it, plotted and pushed and manipulated into place by one lone Sith, helped by the occasional Sith Apprentice.
Perhaps it was the work of generations, or perhaps this Sith was the most brilliant of his line. It didn't matter. When all of this was done, Qui-Gon didn't care who'd planned what, or what the Sith's true identity was, as long as they ended up with a dead Sith.
"Temper, temper, my Master," Obi-Wan said, the words riding on a near-silent breath as the man appeared at his side once more. "That way lies bad things, believe me."
"Are you not above that sort of thing?" he asked, trying not to make the question disparaging as he turned to gaze down at the shorter man.
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, looking up at Qui-Gon with the barest trace of a smile. "I could have ended this on the first day, Qui-Gon. It's what I am, who I am. I could let this energy slide through my veins and take over my skin, and the Sith would be dead already. And so would the Jedi. So would we be. So would the Republic."
Qui-Gon sighed; a Jedi assassinating a Senator would be the Order's downfall, now. "I see your point." Their political situation was so damned tenuous of late. No matter what evidence might ultimately have showed up to prove the Senator's guilt, the damage would have been done, and the repercussions destructive to all. "So: plast and paperwork, then?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "And when the plast and paperwork failed to lead any further, I took to going out in the dark. I have to do something, you see," he added, a cynical, bitter smile on his face. "If I do nothing at all to fight the Sith, then the compulsion to act, to find him and end him, starts to overwhelm me. So I go out at night, and in some tiny way, fight the influence of the Sith. Save a life, taunt that fucking security squad, meet with those who are fearful, find allies." He grinned. "Bleed all over the city."
"Bleeding fights Sith influence?" Qui-Gon asked, fighting a smile.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Better my blood than someone else's."
A sharp chirp interrupted them; Obi-Wan swore and fumbled at his belt for the commlink that had replaced the one Aurra Sing had turned into shrapnel. "Lars," he said, a terse expression on his face.
"It's Bail," the slightly tinny voice on the other end said, the hallmark of a very good signal scrambler. Qui-Gon found he wasn't surprised to find that the young Alderaani Senator was involved; very likely he was part of Padmé's illicit group of Republic-loyal Loyalists. "Fang Zar's vanished, Ben."
"Great fuck!" Obi-Wan swore, shoving the commlink at Qui-Gon. "Go to Bail's place, stay with him. Anakin, you're staying with Padmé, and get Typho up here once I leave. You may need the help."
Anakin's eyes hardened, becoming the color of flattened steel. "You got it. Master, take the black speeder on the platform instead of ours, it's faster."
Qui-Gon nodded, already moving, willing to let questions wait. If Obi-Wan thought their allies were in danger, then it was so. Bail had his own security contingent, and as he and Obi-Wan raced up the short flight of stairs to the apartment's landing platform, he told the Senator to gather it.
"Should've known you'd be involved eventually, Master Jinn," Bail replied, the sound of a blaster's power pack sliding into place translating through the comm. "We'll be waiting for you. Tell Ben I said to watch his back."
"Watch your own, it's not blasterproof," Obi-Wan retorted, before sprinting across the platform and leaping into the speeder the three of them had brought from the Temple. Jeimor cawed in anger and flew out into the open air, avoiding the indignity of suffering through another speeder ride.
Qui-Gon shut down the comm, finding the speeder that Anakin had mentioned. Sith, he thought, noticing the make and the engine lines. He could make it to the other side of the blasted planet in record time piloting that machine. He turned just once, to find Obi-Wan watching him with a tight smile on his face. "Be careful," Qui-Gon said, even if it was rather a moot point.
Obi-Wan nodded. "You, too," he replied, just as they had parted ways so many times before. Then he hit the thrusters of the speeder, disappearing into the steady stream of nearby traffic.
No attack on Bail came, which was both a relief and a worry, as Qui-Gon heard nothing from Obi-Wan once they parted ways on the Naboo platform. He and Anakin kept in contact by comm using Bail's rather sophisticated (and highly illegal) scrambling device.
"Dare I say it again and jinx us, but it's as quiet as a tomb here, Master," Anakin said at one point. Through their bond Qui-Gon could feel that his Padawan was tightly wound but not ready to respond foolishly, and that heartened him. It was a vast improvement on a similar watch they'd shared before, months ago.
"Similarly here, and I'm grateful," Qui-Gon replied, though he didn't elaborate on his thoughts. Bail had come to his own conclusions after time passed with no enemy forthcoming. Whatever had happened to Senator Zar had nothing to do with the Loyalist plot. This was a new element, and until Obi-Wan came back, it would remain unknown.
Qui-Gon returned home before dawn once a fresh pair of Knights from the Temple could be summoned, and met Anakin in the Temple landing bay. His Padawan had dark crescents under his eyes but was still alert. "Padmé has two Knights of her own on extended guard duty, though she swore at me when I told her they were coming," he said, grinning. "I'll deal with a bit of foul language if it keeps her safe."
They returned to their quarters; he sent Anakin to bed and sat down on the sofa. He felt far too keyed up to sleep, not willing to settle until he knew Ben Lars had returned.
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead.
-Oscar Wilde
It was the rustle of wings that woke him from a meditation that had turned into a light doze. He turned his head and saw Jeimor perched on the balcony railing outside, stretching his wings in the warm morning light.
Obi-Wan was present as well, only visible once Qui-Gon walked through the balcony doorway. He was sitting on the railing farthest from the sliding door, looking tired, worn, and literally torn. His clothing was in even worse shape than when Shaak Tii had accused him of falling through a shredder. "Fang Zar's all right," he said, apropos of nothing. "Kidnapping attempt, I think, but either way it's a failed attempt. Zar is back home with a re-hired security detail that I vetted before leaving. Apparently, someone on his staff passed out the details on the Senator's schedule." Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his cheek, smearing old blood across his skin when he did so. "I'm not sure, but I think it might only have been a distraction, or someone truly wanted them both out of the way. Doesn't matter now, though."
"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked, realizing as he spoke that he'd stepped no closer to Obi-Wan. The energy that lurked under the Knight's skin was palpable even from several feet away, roaming wild and free as it hunted for the target it wanted. Qui-Gon shivered as one of those energy tendrils brushed him. He felt no intent to harm, but the energy belonged somewhere else, some place beyond anything Qui-Gon had ever experienced. It didn't belong here.
"Ah. Right." Obi-Wan sighed again and dropped down from the railing onto the balcony proper, and most of that otherworldly energy vanished as if it had never existed. "Senator Danu is dead."
"Danu?" Qui-Gon swore under his breath. While not the most likeable sort, Danu had very important influence-and he'd been at the head of those publicly challenging the Chancellor's unofficial third term. "How?"
"Boldly," Obi-Wan said, grim-faced. "Someone blew his head off while he was in a private club, entertaining his two mistresses. No witnesses to the shooter. Worse, the Kuat Drive Yards just became Republic property for the military. He hadn't yet named any heirs, he's the last of his bloodline that's officially acknowledged, and even if someone were to step up with legal claim, it's going to get fucking steamrolled through the Senate anyway."
Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave of the headache that immediately bloomed behind his eyes. "Paving the way for the military to create warships that the Republic doesn't have to pay top dollar for. Now it's simply a matter of budget." The Republic might have faced bankruptcy to fight the war, with their need to purchase transports from major suppliers. No longer was that the case.
"Yes," Obi-Wan all but growled. "You know, even if the Sith can be destroyed without causing further harm, I don't know how the Republic is going to recover. This is... this is massive, Qui-Gon. I don't know of a solution for the kind of problems the bastard is going to leave behind."
"Nor I," Qui-Gon murmured, reaching out at last and taking Obi-Wan's hand in his own. "And I refuse to worry about the things that lie beyond the defeat of the Sith when that must still come first. Come to bed with me."
Obi-Wan smiled. "But I don't need to sleep."
"Well, I do," Qui-Gon retorted, ignoring the sadness Obi-Wan's answer filled him with. "But I would like your company while I do so." I want it as many times as I can get it.
His former Padawan, his Avatairee, nodded. "After I shower, I'll join you."
Qui-Gon was just on the edge of sleep when Obi-Wan slid into the bed next to him, and the touch of cool skin against his own told him that Obi-Wan hadn't bothered with sleep clothing of any sort. "Tease," he whispered groggily.
"Not yet," Obi-Wan replied, slinging an arm over Qui-Gon's hip and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Sleep, love. I promise I'll still be here when you wake up."
The declaration brought the sting of fresh tears to Qui-Gon's eyes, for the words he had yet to say. "I love you."
Obi-Wan's breath ghosted over his skin. "I know."
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation,
and the exponent of breath.
-Emily Dickinson
Transience
He awoke sometime that afternoon to the sound of Ben switching on Qui-Gon's comm, which had been chiming insistently. "Qui-Gon Jinn's answering service, Ben Lars speaking, how may I direct your call?" Obi-Wan greeted the caller cheerfully.
"You can tell me what the hell happened last night, that's what," Mace retorted. "What did you do, lose another comm?"
Obi-Wan tilted his head, considering. "I think it got shot. No, I gave it to Qui-Gon. You'll have to ask him where it is."
"I am going to start charging you for them." Mace sighed. "Danu is dead, Fang Zar was the victim of a kidnapping attempt, and you've got me sending Knights on secret guard duty for two of our strongest Senate allies. Details, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon raised his head sleepily. Mace knew?
Obi-Wan noticed the movement and smiled at him; Qui-Gon smiled back, just in time to realize that while Obi-Wan might have sat up in the bed they were sharing, he hadn't yet bothered to put on any blasted pants. "That's cheating," he mouthed at Obi-Wan.
"Yep!" Obi-Wan mouthed back, before starting to fill Mace in on the details of last night while Qui-Gon stumbled out of bed, getting into his own clothes in an attempt to start the day. Night. Whatever it was. Qui-Gon had the feeling that he and Anakin were going to be nocturnal for awhile.
He froze in the midst of adjusting his tunics, listening with his blood running cold as Obi-Wan described what he'd done to get Senator Zar free of his captors. Anyone else would have been dead multiple times over. The bid to remove Zar's presence from the Senate had been just as deliberately deadly as Danu's, and if not for Obi-Wan, there would have been two strong-voiced, respected Senators lost. They couldn't afford to lose any of those voices, because now they were so very few.
"Force," Mace hissed, his frustration evident. "We can't guard everyone's backs, and continue to do what has been asked of us, and follow the Force!'
"Well, then we stop doing what the Senate's asking, and follow the Force for awhile," Obi-Wan suggested, and Qui-Gon turned to look at him in surprise.
"Now is not the right time for such things," Mace said, but was quickly interrupted.
"Bullshit, Mace," Obi-Wan said, glaring at the comm even if the expression couldn't be seen. "When is the right time for it, then? When we're all exhausted? When we're all dead? The Republic has their war machine. Let the Senate be in charge of it, it's their job! Our job is to ensure peace. Negotiate. Find other ways. The only reason we've fought wars on behalf of the Republic in the past is because they didn't have a fucking army. Well, now they do! Let them use it."
There was silence from the comm. Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan in nonplussed delight. This was the Padawan he'd trained to the cusp of Knighthood, now taking on the Head of the Order, and he was brilliant at it. "I love you," he said, grinning.
Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Thank you," he grinned back, understanding Qui-Gon perfectly.
There was more silence. Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at the comm. "Still breathing?"
"Yes. I... need to talk to Yoda. Hell, I need to speak to the entire Council."
"Does this mean you agree with my point?" Obi-Wan asked.
"This means that I think you're a genius, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Mace replied, his voice soft. "I am not the strategist that others are, but this... this may be the key to rescuing our diplomatic standing. The Senate won't be happy with us, but the Republic, on the other hand... Tell Qui-Gon I said good morning, and that if Anakin turns out to be anything like you, I will apologize to him with my forehead on the ground for misjudging them both."
Qui-Gon found that his jaw was hanging open. "Did I hear that man correctly?"
"It would seem so," Obi-Wan replied, tossing the comm aside when the call terminated. "I need to get dressed." He paused. "I need to go find clothes," he amended. "Which means going outside, dropping down two levels, and hoping I don't flash anyone who has an open window."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "You could just use your robe and walk about the tower like a normal person," he said, realizing only at the end that it had taken all his willpower not to say 'living person'.
"Not as much fun. Sides, I think my cloak is full of holes again, too." He sighed, amused. "And then I should go see Asa. We need a traumatized warlord about as much as we need an angry one."
"And then?"
Obi-Wan had opened Qui-Gon's door, looking about to see if Anakin had awoken yet. When Anakin proved to be still snoring, audible even behind his closed door, Obi-Wan approached the balcony where Jeimor was napping. "Well, I suppose I'll be going out again after dark," he said, scratching Jeimor's back. The crow gurgled and stretched out his wings in appreciation. "See what's what."
Qui-Gon followed, amused to find himself trailing behind a naked Avatar. A very tempting, teasing, naked Avatar, and Qui-Gon had rarely found himself so utterly distracted. "Obi-Wan?"
"Hmm?" Obi-Wan paused in the midst of looking over the railing. The late afternoon sun lit up his entire body, reflecting off of pale skin and copper hair.
"Can I... I'd like to go with you tonight," Qui-Gon said, trying not to sound desperate, trying not to sound like he couldn't bear to let Obi-Wan out of his sight.
Obi-Wan looked at him, his eyes gone flat and gray. "You cannot go as a Jedi. Lightsabers stay here."
"I understand that," Qui-Gon replied. There could be no contamination of the Order's reputation, not at this stage of the game. Especially not if the Council decided that Obi-Wan's idea had merit.
"It's dark. It's dangerous. Every night there's some new brutality. Every night out there I do something that would mean my death were I still alive." Obi-Wan left the railing and stepped closer to Qui-Gon, looking up at him with fierce intensity. "Do you know what you're asking? Do you know what you're asking of me?"
In answer Qui-Gon bent his head down and kissed Obi-Wan, feeling skin that was slightly cooler than his, feeling lips move with his own. Obi-Wan's arm snaked up and coiled itself around Qui-Gon's neck. The kiss ended with a gasp from Obi-Wan, and when their eyes met once more the gray had been overtaken by blue-green. Life-color. "You matter to me," Qui-Gon whispered. "Every moment is important, every smile, every laugh. Every second of you is what I want because I know that ultimately these seconds are going to be all I'll have of you. Compared to that I fear nothing. Nothing, you understand?"
Obi-Wan nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face, but his eyes were more alive than Qui-Gon had seen them since he had first met a man who called himself Ben Lars. "Come to my quarters after sundown," he said, and then leapt over the railing.
Jeimor eyed him curiously. -You have learned your lessons well.-
Qui-Gon swallowed hard, meeting the crow's unblinking amber gaze. "How could I not?"
Jeimor dipped his head in acknowledgement before jumping from the railing, diving down to follow Obi-Wan.
Bury me in falling leaves
Quilt me in the frozen snow
Pieces of me wash like seeds
Across the road and go
Into the sea like ash and prayer
Upon the wind they speak of
Time and gods and mortal breath
"How much time have I got left?"
He was at Ben Lars' door at dark, as asked. He'd forgone his usual tunics for a shirt that was a few shades darker than his leggings, and his cloak already seemed ideal for joining a gray and black-garbed companion into the depths of Coruscant. Qui-Gon sighed and wondered if he was being foolish. He was no longer young. Middle-aged would be more accurate, and he'd used his body harshly over its three-quarters of a century.
"Are you seriously calling yourself old?" Obi-Wan asked, the door sliding open without preamble.
"Old? Perhaps not," Qui-Gon said, stepping aside when Ben walked out, his cloak thrown over his arm, the door to his quarters sliding shut behind him. "But I do seem to be suffering from a severe lack of youth," he said, smiling and pulling on a lock of his silver hair.
"I think it's rather lovely, actually," Obi-Wan countered, linking their arms together just as he had done with Anakin the previous evening. "And being thirty years older than you are now certainly didn't stop Dooku. You're not allowed to call yourself old until you hit your twelfth decade, at least."
"You overestimate my chances," Qui-Gon chuckled. "The way trouble finds me, I'll be lucky to finish this one."
Obi-Wan scowled at him. "Don't say things like that. Ever. What you said to me also works the other way 'round, Qui-Gon Jinn: Every moment, every second, is precious. Cherish it all, or see it wasted." The bitterness was evident in Obi-Wan's voice, and Qui-Gon sighed and pulled the younger man closer, both of them falling silent until they reached Obi-Wan's goal-the platform just below the roof of the North Tower.
"We're going that way?" Qui-Gon asked, raising both eyebrows in concern as he stepped close to the edge of the platform. The gusts caught at his hair and pulled it in all directions, and he swore and stepped back, pulling another leather tie from his belt pouch. Obi-Wan watched him capture all of his hair in a tail, an amused smile on his face.
"Master of the Living Force, Qui-Gon Jinn-" Obi-Wan waved a hand at the expanse of skyline, grinning broadly. "This is the way forward. Come and live with me?" he asked, holding out his hand in invitation. The wind had taken hold of Obi-Wan's hair, his cloak, and his eyes were shining with obvious anticipation.
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and let him pull them both to the very edge of the platform. "Am I going to regret this?" he asked, keeping his tone mild. While he did not fear heights, he had never quite done anything like this before.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Never," he promised.
He was right. The wind caught them both, and it was like being touched by a living thing, by the Force itself, and listening to Obi-Wan laugh in true delight became a memory that he would guard in his heart forever. Qui-Gon felt free, weightless in spite of the sharp tug of gravity, and let Obi-Wan lead them from roof to roof, never letting go of his Avatar's hand while Jeimor flew above them, just one more ebon shadow in the dark.
Qui-Gon rolled over in the wind to see Obi-Wan's face, and was not surprised by the dust that had returned, that the graceful sweep of black crow's wings covered his cheeks and shadowed his eyes once more. Ghost of solid flesh, Avatar of night and wing, a soul brought forth by Jeimor to fix what was broken.
"What does that mean?" he asked, when they landed on the final roof the winds could take them to. He should have been out of breath and wasn't; indeed, around Ben, he felt at least a decade younger, and the joy of it was glorious. "You said before, that something broke."
Obi-Wan jumped off the edge of the building to land on the street below, and Qui-Gon followed, their feet impacting duracrete with nothing more than a muted thump of noise. Obi-Wan glanced behind them, as if expecting to see someone waiting for them, but the alleyway was deserted, and no cries met their ears. "Something felt unbalanced, in my head," Obi-Wan replied at last, frowning as they began to walk. "That's about as well as I can describe it, since I didn't truly have a head anymore for it to feel anything. This lack of balance felt like I'd caused it, and if I was responsible, then I insisted that I needed to fix it."
Qui-Gon smiled; those were certainly the words of his honor-bound, duty-adhering Padawan. "Then what does the Sith have to do with any of it?"
"Beyond the Sith representing a very large threat to the balance of the Force in regards to the rest of the universe?" Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't know. He's related to the discord, the lack of balance, but can't be the primary cause because I didn't create the asshole in the first place."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "True enough."
"What about that prophecy nonsense?" Obi-Wan asked, halting their steps just shy of the first broad walkway to show signs of life. "Isn't that supposed to be about bringing balance, also?"
"It's not nonsense," Qui-Gon reiterated for what felt like the thousandth time. "The prophecy is about One who will bring balance, yes, but that balance hinges on choices that are made. Balance can mean many things," he continued, watching Obi-Wan. The man's eyes were taking in the street, darting from person to person, but Qui-Gon knew he was listening. "Balance for the Jedi? Balance for the Sith? For the galaxy at large? What if the Chosen One brings balance merely by being the person that finds the one who can do such a thing? Or perhaps the Chosen One brings balance by having children? That's the annoying part of prophecy, and why I tell Anakin to ignore its influence on his life, because ultimately the choice of what instrument balance shall be is up to him."
"Choice," Obi-Wan repeated in a whisper. "Balance is choice. Lack of balance is lack of choice."
"That's one way of putting it-hey!" Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan when the other man suddenly sagged to the ground, a horrified look on his face. "What's wrong?"
"Things weren't unbalanced because I changed our fates. Not specifically, anyway," Obi-Wan was staring at nothing, wide-eyed. "It's because I attempted to make a choice for Anakin."
"What?" Qui-Gon blinked in confusion. "How?"
"I didn't just throw myself on a Sith's blade because of you," Obi-Wan said, both of them settling onto the ground in a more or less unbalanced jumble of limbs. "If I'd been left behind to train Anakin, his loss to the Sith was absolute certainty. I could not, did not have the ability to do what you would have asked me to do. In giving him you, making sure you lived to train him, Anakin's chances were better, so that he could actually become the Knight he wanted to be instead of some tool of a Sith we didn't yet know of."
Qui-Gon remembered clearly what Yoda had said, ten years ago: "Dangerous he still could be, but the danger has become... less." "But... Obi-Wan, by that very reasoning, you cannot be the one to destroy the Sith, not without again taking away Anakin's choice."
"And thus things would become further unbalanced. Yes, I realize that," Obi-Wan said, and rested his face in his hands. "Aw, Force!" he grumbled through his fingers. "Could this get any more complicated?"
"Probably," Qui-Gon said, smiling at Obi-Wan when the other man dropped his hands. "We're involved, after all. Things always had a way of getting out of hand."
Obi-Wan laughed. "Hmm. Yes. Well! Let's go and make things complicated, shall we?"
Sometimes they walked with the flow of people, who ignored their presence; other times they stayed in the dark, where Obi-Wan glided through the shadows like he was one, and Qui-Gon more often than not had to use Jeimor to track Obi-Wan's location.
It was after hours of traversing walkways that they found their complication. "Jamel," Ben said, dropping down next to a man in a short-cropped leather jacket. He had short gray hair, eyes like steel, and a blaster strapped prominently into place on his hip. "You're up late."
"'m always up late, of late, Ben Lars," the older man replied, glancing curiously at Qui-Gon. "Brought a friend, have ye?"
"This is Ki," Ben said, using an alternate identity Qui-Gon hadn't even thought about in fifteen years. "He's curious as to what the mid-levels are like in recent weeks."
"Ah." Jamel nodded at Qui-Gon. "Bad, s'what they are, Ki. People are terrified."
"So I've seen," Qui-Gon replied, keeping his hood up to shadow his features, as Ben was doing. On walkways where squads of the Office of Republic Security had patrolled, residents of Coruscant had scattered like insects afraid to be caught by the light. Twice Ben had intervened with swift, silent intent when white-armored troops had taken it upon themselves to interrogate whoever caught their fancy. One officer was still alive, if unconscious and naked. The other one had been torturing his quarry, and Ben had unceremoniously tossed the trooper off a landing platform. Qui-Gon had been appalled, at first, but memory stopped him: Justice is not so black and white for us as it is for the dead, hmm?
Keeping his silence had been worthwhile. As the night had progressed he'd witnessed Obi-Wan save far more lives than he ever put in danger. Qui-Gon had even been of help at one point, when they'd encountered a group of lower level denizens who were trying to figure out how to get off Coruscant without using the standard transports. The Security Office had them on lists for immediate apprehension. One of the girls on the Office's list was five years Standard. Five. What the tiny Twi'lek could possibly have done to warrant attention by an anti-terrorist squad Qui-Gon had no idea, but there was no way in hell he was going to let that troop of white-armored bullies get their hands on her. He knew what to do when Obi-Wan did not, and sent them to Dexter. The big Besalisk would know how to get them to safety, and would likely cackle like a manic spicer while plotting his way around Republic security.
Jamel led them to another group of people, all of them armed, some of them masked, some hooded. Others, like Jamel, seemed unconcerned if their identities were made known, and ranged from a girl in her late teens to a man in his ninth decade. "We've talked about it, and we decided it's time for a little active resistance," Jamel said, resting his hand on his blaster grip as he spoke. "We don't want to hurt anyone, but someone needs to send a message to the Senate that this damned Security Squad has got to go."
"What have you got in mind?" Obi-Wan asked. He was perched, bird-like, on an old shipping crate, with Qui-Gon standing beside him. The crowd had accepted Qui-Gon's presence on Ben's word without a murmur of protest.
The girl, Roshi, grinned. "M' uncle's got a lot of plastic stocked away, and I've got a cousin in the pirate broadcasting business."
The old man nodded. "Going to blow that damned Office into the stratosphere," he said, spitting on the ground behind him as he spoke. "The moment it burns, Roshi's cousin pirates the waves and broadcasts a nice lil' vid we put together."
A woman with an eye patch and permanent scowl spoke up. "We got good recordings of some of the Squad's less charming moments, and the results afterward: blood, bodies, and all. The entirety of Coruscant's going to find out what their Security Squad's been up to, whether they like it or not."
"They're going to accuse you of faking the footage," Qui-Gon pointed out.
The old man spat again. "Yeah, we know. Copies are going out to some of the more sane-sounding members of the Senate, and what's left of Judicial after the military sucked 'em in. They can verify, and some people will listen. We know not everyone will," he added, sighing. "But that's always the way o' things."
"People see what they want to see," Obi-Wan murmured.
"What do you think, Ben?" Jamel asked, glancing at Obi-Wan. "You're the one that told us not to risk our lives unless it was worth it. Think this merits?"
Obi-Wan pulled his hood back, revealing the black streaks and pale gray dust on his face. "I think it does. But you'll need a rear guard, so that as many of you make it back home in the morning as possible. I don't think the Security Squad will leave their main Office unguarded, nor ignore an attack on its premises."
"You volunteerin', then?" Eye-patch asked with a sour look.
"Yep," Obi-Wan replied, without a moment of hesitation.
"Ben," Qui-Gon put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Are you sure about this? This is... we're..." It's treason! his mind screamed at him. "In the wrong or not, by attacking the Security Office we are, in effect, attacking the Republic."
Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyes gray-washed and glimmering in the dim light. "Think about what we know about who's truly in charge of the Republic right now," he said. "Think about what that man's ultimate goal will be, what his people's ultimate goal has been for thousands of years. Think about the Confederacy's true fate, the Security Squad's presence, the fear that grips the entirety of the Republic. Think about all of it, and then tell me I shouldn't help them."
Qui-Gon dropped his hand, his mind whirling as it struggled to do just as Ben asked. The Republic was, somehow, under the control of the Sith. The Sith's ultimate goal was power... and the destruction of the Jedi was a path to that power. The Confederacy was meant to fall, which would strengthen whatever political position the Republic was in at the time... and the Republic was going anti-Jedi at an appalling rate, given the millennia of service the Order had provided. In ten years those services, those sacrifices, had come to mean nothing. "In a year, maybe two, the Confederacy won't be the target. We'll be the targets," he whispered, pulling back his hood.
"Shite, I know you," Roshi said, peering up at Qui-Gon. "Who'r you, then?"
"The other half of your rear guard," Qui-Gon said, and caught the rifle Jamel tossed in his direction.
Resistance
All in all, it probably could have gone better. They found the Office with a full squad in residence, taking a break from patrol. Ben sent Jeimor ahead to peer in a window, and before Qui-Gon knew it there was a delighted grin on his face. "I know these boys. Shall I empty the building for you?" he asked Jamel.
Jamel nodded. "If ya think you can, go for it. Meant what I said about not hurtin' anyone."
"Like they'd have the same consideration for us," Eye-patch muttered.
"Probably not, but we're better than they are," Roshi said, glaring at the older woman. "Don't you go shootin' anyone we don't have to."
Eye-patch sighed reluctantly, but nodded. "Go to it, Lars," she said, hefting one of the boxes of plastic onto her shoulder. "Best done soon, or we'll be greeting the dawn."
Ben disappeared; within five minutes there was a huge commotion inside the office, followed by the sound of blasterfire, armored footsteps on the run, and the raucous caw of one laughing crow. Qui-Gon didn't see Ben leave, but the troops filed out en masse, charging down the primary walkway with their weapons at the ready. Then three others of the ragtag little group, all of them masked, made their presence known with blaster fire and a few well-placed detonators, and the squad was suddenly in pursuit of four troublemakers instead of one.
"Couldn't have done a better job if we'd planned that for a week," Jamel muttered, pleased.
That was fun! Obi-Wan said in Qui-Gon's head a moment later. They just hate it when their dead targets turn up alive again. We're leading them out into the District. Tell Jamel it's time. I'll be back as soon as I can ditch the clones.
There were two soldiers left in the building to man the office. Qui-Gon dealt with them before Jamel could even open the door with a subtle touch of the Force. Eye-patch snickered when she saw the two armored men, sans helmets, slumped over at their workstations.
Roshi paused, her eyes lighting up. "I knew I knew who ye were!" she exclaimed. "You're one of the Jedi what was on Geonosis!"
The old man swatted her on the back of the head while Eye-patch and Jamel hoisted up the unconscious troopers, hauling them outdoors and safely out of range from the impending blast. "Yes, and why don't you just go ahead and tell the entire district?" he said, shaking his head. "Say please an' thank you for the help, an' no Jedi were here tonight. Unnerstand?"
Roshi scowled. "Yeah, I get it. These two boys were just drinkin' a bit too heavily, s'right, Ki?" she continued, grinning as she set up the first plastic charge.
"Indeed," Qui-Gon agreed, hiding a smile as he kept watch at the door, his hood pulled low over his face again. Those he were with had as much to lose as he did and wouldn't betray his presence. The Security Squad, on the other hand, would be far too delighted to bag a Jedi. He didn't dare give the Sith a ready excuse to push sanctions against the Order through the Senate.
The charges were set and ready to detonate by remote when trouble came calling, as Qui-Gon knew it would. "Company," he informed the others, taking aim with the rifle and firing a stun beam right into the midst of a new squad, one that looked to be investigating their brethren's rushed departure.
"Damn," Jamel growled, then glanced at Eye-patch. "Make us a door, love. Roshi, contact our getaway vehicle and tell them where to meet us."
Roshi pulled out a commlink; Eye-patch grinned nastily and set a small charge. "Fire in the hole, folks," she announced, joining Jamel, Roshi, and the old man behind a support pillar. Qui-Gon pulled his cloak up and shielded himself from the worst of it. The small yet efficient explosion took a chunk out of the wall, leaving the back of the building open to the elements. Then blasterfire began raining in through the open doorway once more.
"You might want to leave now," he said, firing steadily. Two more of the cloned troops dropped to his shots, but there were still far too many remaining. Roshi and Jamel hesitated at the improvised exit.
"Not without you, man," Jamel said, wincing as a bolt ricocheted off the wall near his head. "Move it, already!"
"Got this one," Eye-patch said, taking another detonator out of her pocket. "Fire in the hole, boys!" she crowed again, this time at the squad on the outer walk, right before throwing the device straight at them. It slid down the walkway, causing troopers to scatter in all directions. Qui-Gon worried for one moment that they'd just taken lives, after all, when the detonator began spewing streams of red smoke, filling the air in seconds.
"Now we go!" Jamel yelled, ducking through the wall. Qui-Gon made sure he was the last one out, and just in time-laser fire began pouring into the building as the clones cleared the smoke. One of the blasts lanced through the lower section of his cloak and darkened the duracrete next to his left boot.
It was less than a quarter of a kilometer to the speeder Roshi had waiting, but it might as well have been a full klik. They made it to a shadowy alley and decent cover before the distinct sound of many booted footfalls began trailing them. "Damn," Jamel muttered, taking out his blaster and kicking it over to stun. "Lori, Roshi, Bavieu, get your asses to the speeder and get out of here. NOW!" he roared, when the three of them only glared at him. They scattered, but with a great show of reluctance.
"Think they'll go?" Qui-Gon asked, both of them taking up positions behind refuse bins on either side of the alley. Not the most defensible position, to be certain.
"Eh, they'll go, but I'll betcha every credit I've ever had in m'life that they won't leave without us," Jamel replied, grinning. "Damned stubborn, the lot of 'em."
"As my student likes to say, that is the pot calling the kettle black," Qui-Gon returned, amused.
Jamel laughed. "Aye," he said, and took out the first trooper to appear in the alley with a well-aimed shot to an unprotected shoulder joint. "Let's make sure these boys need to trip over each other to come after us!"
In less than two minutes the alley was filled with smoke, the burning stink of melting plastic, the hot tang of metal, and ozone from repeated stun and laser blasts. Four of the clones were lying prone at the alley entrance, and two more troopers were using the pile as impromptu shields. Qui-Gon shook his head and looked around for something to gain them more time, catching sight of an old escape ladder and platform above the squad. Old bolts, rusted by Coruscant pollution and weather, had worn free, and the entire metal structure hung precariously overhead.
"Jamel!" Qui-Gon barked, flipping the rifle back over to full power and taking aim at the one remaining support the escape platform had. The older man saw what he was doing and shot at it as well, superheating the metal in moments. With a great shriek, the old metal came free and fell straight down onto the squad that had them pinned.
"Now we can go," Jamel said, and they both turned and ran for the waiting speeder.
Obi-Wan? he sent, wondering where the man and his crow had gotten to.
On my way! Obi-Wan replied. Just gotta shake these-OW! Mother. Fucker!
Strangely enough, the virulent swearing was more reassuring than anything else Obi-Wan could have said. Smiling, Qui-Gon came to a halt next to Jamel, who was already chewing out his ragtag group for not being gone already.
"Yeah, yeah," Eye-patch said, rolling her eyes heavenwards. "We'll leave you behind right 'bout the same time you'd leave us behind. Now get in the damned speeder, Jamel."
There was one single warning from the Force, a sudden jarring, and with it came understanding that there was time for only one thing. Qui-Gon grabbed Roshi, spinning them both in place, and lost his breath when the blaster bolt struck him high in the back instead of taking Roshi's head off.
"Dammit!" Jamel yelled, pulling his blaster and nailing the Squad trooper in the chest, killing him instantly. "Eye for an eye, you bastards!"
"Stun... please," Qui-Gon whispered, realizing as he spoke the hissed words that his left lung was burnt, incapable of giving him air.
"Gods, you are a stubborn brute," Eye-patch said, as she and Roshi, tears running down her young, narrow face, helped him into the speeder. Jamel and the old man, Bavieu, were firing a volley of stun blasts at the roof where the second half of the alley squad had gotten the drop on their position.
"In... good company," he said, smiling, and laid his hand over his heart. The smile on his face faded as the speeder took off with Jamel and Bavieu perched on the back end of it, firing to cover their escape. Qui-Gon knew what his senses were telling him, and none of it was good. It was hard to breathe, and the pain from the blaster wound was finally overriding adrenaline.
He closed his eyes and promptly blacked out.
Tears are the silent language of grief.
-Voltaire
Qui-Gon opened his eyes to fiery pain and a true struggle for breath. He was lying on his side, being supported by Roshi, who was still crying. There were hands at his back, and he heard the sound of ripping cloth.
"Still with us, aye?" Jamel murmured, kneeling down next to Roshi. "That's good. Roshi, hush up, girl. The man isn't dead yet."
There was tugging on his shirt, warm hands on his skin, and then Eye-patch swore. "He won't live long without help, not with this wound. If we take him to any of the public medical centers, the Security Squad will get ahold of him. Maybe us, too."
Master? Master, what's wrong?
Qui-Gon sighed. Anakin. Oh, gods. I'm... with friends, Anakin, he said, because he didn't want to lie, but he wasn't yet ready to admit to his Padawan what he already knew.
He was dying.
You're hurt, dammit! Anakin swore. I'm coming to find you.
Qui-Gon sent vague agreement, because protesting would have been a waste of strength. Once Anakin Skywalker decided to do something, it was generally a good idea to get out of his way. He smiled at the thought and closed his eyes again.
He awoke to the sound of his own breath wheezing in his chest, and found Obi-Wan kneeling where Jamel had been, his eyes gray-washed and filled with stunned horror. How strange... it is... to find ourselves... like this again, Qui-Gon thought. He understood the peace he'd seen in his Padawan's eyes, now, when Obi-Wan had lain dying in his arms. Dying wasn't so bad. Painful, somewhat exhausting... but not that bad.
Obi-Wan smiled and cupped Qui-Gon's face with his hands as he leaned forward. "That's ridiculous," he said, his breath wafting across Qui-Gon's face, warm and sweet. "Do you think I'd go through all of this nonsense just to let you go that easily?"
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak, and managed to whisper, "Ben," before his lungs simply gave out, refusing to draw breath again.
"Not yet, love," Obi-Wan replied, and the hands on Qui-Gon's face grew warmer. Then that warmth spread, and Qui-Gon could feel every part of his body that it touched-even the ends of his hair seemed to grow warm. He was light-headed, felt like he was floating, or falling into the wind. The warmth spread to his chest, and his lungs kicked back in with a dizzying rush and pounding heartbeat that catapulted him back into unconsciousness.
It was not death, for I stood up.
-Emily Dickinson
"Sweet blessed Mother," said Roshi in a hushed whisper, watching as the light from Ben's hands spread down into old Ki's body. "He's healin' 'im!"
Jamel swore in reverence, but Lori was ever practical. "Roshi's right," she said, examining the wound in Ki's back. "Wound's closing."
"Jedi healing," Roshi said, shaking her head. "Thought I'd never actually see anythin' like it."
Papa Bavieu snorted. "Girl, t'aint all that's happening. Lookit that man's hair."
Roshi looked, and felt her eyes grow wide. "Wow," she breathed, awed.
"S'what the others were whispering about," Jamel said, kneeling down and gazing at Ben, whose eyes were closed, his lips moving as if he were speaking, though Roshi couldn't hear him saying anything. "They've been whispering about Avatars."
"Avatairee," Ben murmured, opening his eyes. Even to Roshi they seemed colorless, even more than before. She felt no fear, though. She was young, but not foolish, and knew good folk when she saw them.
And Ben had saved her life.
Lori gave Ben a sardonic look. "Pfft. Whatever you are, Kid, you don't look so good right now."
Ben glanced down at Ki, who was breathing easily; no longer unconscious, but merely resting. "Yeah... I... Jeimor?" he called, right before his eyelids flickered.
Jamel caught Ben as his eyes rolled up. Roshi bit her lip, noticing that the skin of Ben's hands were now just as gray as that dust stuff he painted his face with.
"Dammit, Lars," Jamel shook his head. "Now I've got two Jedi on my hands, and no idea what to do with either of 'em."
Papa Bavieu pointed to something behind Roshi, a bewildered look on his face. "Seems t' me that we don't have t' make that decision," he said.
Roshi turned her head, as much as she could move to look while still holding onto dear Ki, and felt her jaw fall open. There were scores of people approaching along the abandoned walkway they'd landed on. They held candles, or torches, or glowrods, or merely walked empty-handed.
Every single one of them bore dusted faces. Just like Ben's.
Resonance
Anakin Skywalker could find Qui-Gon Jinn anywhere, and that had been a fact of his existence since their training bond had formed between them. Sometimes, however, the finding took a long damn time.
Padmé squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he's fine, Ani. Ben is with him, after all."
Anakin nodded, but in truth, he was no longer worried about that. What had happened to his Master, whatever had been damaged, had been fixed before they'd found a place to park the speeder. Now he simply felt driven to find. His worry, and his Force-sense, was focused on Obi-Wan. Ben. His brother.
A cloaked being stepped out of the shadows, lowering a hood and revealing a tiny face dusted in gray powder, her eyes ringed with kohl. Anakin stopped short in surprise, his hand moving for his lightsaber before his brain registered that there was no danger.
Padmé saw the humanoid girl and gasped. "She looks like..."
"You be seeking the avatairee, then?" the girl asked, blinking large green eyes at them.
Anakin nodded. "Yes, and my Master. Have you seen them?"
The girl smiled. "Oh, yes. Come, come. We've kept them safe. Mama Vima sent me out to find you. She said you and the Senator-wife would come seeking them."
Padmé and Anakin exchanged looks. Anakin sighed internally, once again wondering at the point of secret marriages when everyone seemed to know upon sight that he and Padmé had wed. "Who is Mama Vima?" Anakin asked, following along after the green-eyed girl when she began walking away.
"She's the one who finds us. She saw the avatairee first, and put away her drink. She finds us after the avatairee helps us, and we bear the dust-paint to honor his fight."
"Why do you do that?" Padmé wanted to know, curious, as they entered a building that looked to have been condemned and forgotten centuries ago.
The girl paused, giving Padmé a look that would have been condescending if the sentiment hadn't rung so clear and honest. "Because it's our fight, too, Senator-wife."
The girl led them to a massive room, once devoted to storage for the rest of the building. It was empty now, and filled with people like the girl, all of them kneeling, cloaked, and bearing gray-dusted faces. Some of them, like their guide, had added black dust around their eyes, or had drawn designs, though none had the spread wings that Anakin had seen on Ben's face. There were candles everywhere, melting onto the floor and creating misshapen pools in wax as they burned freely.
In the center of the room, with space cleared around them, lay Qui-Gon Jinn and Ben Lars.
"Master," Anakin whispered and started forward, halting when he wasn't sure if the crowd would rise up against him.
"No, no. It's all right," the girl said, smiling and beckoning them on. "Both of you: welcome. This is our home, but your place is with the avatairee and his love."
"Love?" Padmé repeated, her voice soft. "That explains so much."
"Yeah," Anakin agreed, stepping around the next robed person, a Sullustan with his eyes closed, humming under his breath. "It's too bad they couldn't figure that out before Naboo," he said, but without the bitterness he'd felt for the past ten years. Most of it had gone the night Ben Lars had come to his and Qui-Gon's quarters, and Anakin had seen his Master rendered completely speechless. The remainder had gone when he'd found Qui-Gon curled around Obi-Wan, asleep in a nested pile of all of their shared belongings, and even at rest there had been a smile on his face.
He loved being a Jedi, and he loved his Master, but the Order could be pretty stupid about some parts of life that the rest of the universe understood implicitly. Most Jedi would see it as a mark of impatience, but Anakin had walked into his marriage with his eyes and heart open, and he had never looked back.
Anakin knelt next to his sleeping Master, putting a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. He could smell the faint residue of burnt cloth and ozone from a blaster discharge, but in the Force his Master was glowing with health. In fact... Anakin frowned. Qui-Gon hadn't felt that good to his senses since he'd first met the man.
Padmé joined him, dropping to her knees with easy grace. She reached down and touched one of the strands of Qui-Gon's hair, an odd look on her face. "Anakin... the light is poor in here, but I had thought... Wasn't his hair silver?"
Anakin blinked and looked closer, picking up a long lock of his Master's hair and running it through his fingers. "Yeah," he whispered, eyes widening. He swallowed; Qui-Gon's hair was the same color it had been on Tatooine, ten years ago.
Qui-Gon stirred, the echoing sense of sleep through the training bond quickly becoming awareness. His Master blinked up at him, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "'lo Anakin," he murmured.
Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying, bending down and hugging the prone older man. "I let you go out alone and you promptly get shot. What am I going to do with you, Master?"
Qui-Gon got to his knees with Anakin's help, reaching out to touch Padmé's shoulder in welcome. Padmé smiled and hugged him, a ritual of greeting they had been exchanging as long as Anakin had known them both. "You wouldn't have had to worry about that any longer, if it hadn't been for Ben," Qui-Gon answered at last. He turned, a concerned frown on his face, and Anakin felt the same worry. Any other time and Ben would have been awake first.
Qui-Gon touched Ben's face, brushing his fingers through the dust and turning the tips of his fingers grayish-white. "Ben?" he called, closing his eyes, and Anakin felt his Master call upon the Force.
His eyes shot open in the next instant, and he lowered his head until their foreheads were touching. "Oh, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, voice so soft that only Anakin and Padmé could hear. "What did you do?"
Expiation
"He gave you life," a voice answered. Qui-Gon looked up as an older woman approached, cloaked like the others, her face dusted like Ben's. Instead of wings, the black dust on her face was drawn in mimicry of falling tears. The only thing she carried was a gnarled old cane, which went down with every step of her left foot. "Perhaps a bit much of it, but the power he bears is a bit harder to control than what we see of the Force."
Anakin stood up, hand near his lightsaber, but Qui-Gon felt no danger, not from this one. In the Force, though...
"You're a Jedi," Anakin blurted in surprise.
"Ah, no, Walker of the Sky," she said, shaking her head. "I've not been a Jedi for many years now."
"I suppose you must be Mother Vima?" Padmé guessed, joining Anakin, while Qui-Gon remained kneeling at Obi-Wan's side. He picked up one of Ben's hands, worried by the pallor of his skin and too-cool feel.
"They call me Mother because I've mothered 'em all, at one time or t' other," Mother Vima said, smiling wide and revealing crooked, gapped teeth. "You'll soon be a mother yourself, Senator-wife. You'll be seeing your own fair share of it."
Qui-Gon returned his gaze to the old woman, matching her face and name to one he'd met long ago. "You're Vima Da-Boda," he said.
"Aye," she answered. "And you be Qui-Gon Jinn. Though, you be a bit bigger than last I saw you," she added, grinning. "Didn't think I'd ever see any of you younglings again, not after what happened to my Neema. I disappeared myself into a bottle for many years. Least, till this one," she nodded at Ben, "fell out of the sky and into my favorite alley. I poured out m' brandy and haven't seen it since, 'cause when there's an Avatar present... Well." She leaned on her cane, her smile fainter but still present. "You lot are all in the thick of it, so I imagine you perceive what's what."
"Vima... what's wrong with Ben?" Qui-Gon asked, for the moment uncaring about Avatars and possibilities and the damned Sith. All he knew was that Obi-Wan's presence was a faint, transient thing, as if there was no longer enough life in his body to hold in his spirit.
Mother Vima tilted her head. "You be needin' to ask his guide that question, Master Jinn. That's crow-work, and nothing for mine to meddle with. We're only here to offer our support. That bridge is one we can't cross."
Qui-Gon nodded his understanding. "Jeimor?" he called, hoping the crow could hear and understand.
-Oh, I can hear you. That fucking idiot shared so much of himself with you that I might well be able to hear you the rest of your fucking life.-
Qui-Gon raised both eyebrows in surprise. Why aren't you here? he asked, deciding not to worry about the first part, for now.
-Because they're everywhere and it is creepy- the bird retorted. -All of them dusting their faces and the robes and... geeeeaaaak.- Jeimor's last word was too crow-like, something Qui-Gon had no hope of interpreting. -What we do is supposed to be quiet, supposed to be not-noticed, and it's like half the damn planet knows!-
Be that as it may, you still have a job to do, and a responsibility to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon growled back. Or do you pick and choose when to be what you are?
-Oh, fuck you- Jeimor retorted, but Qui-Gon heard the echoing rasp of wings, and after a moment the crow came sailing across the room, flapping noisily as he landed on the floor next to Obi-Wan. Those gathered gasped, whispering to each other about the great black bird that had suddenly appeared next to their Avatar.
Jeimor chucked and cawed loudly, his wings spread. -Stop staring at me, assholes!- he grumbled, climbing up onto Obi-Wan's chest before settling down into place with a sigh.
"Never saw a bird with such an attitude," Mother Vima said mildly, and Jeimor clacked his beak at her and refused to comment.
"We need to take him home," Qui-Gon said, lifting Obi-Wan into his arms with no difficulty. That was almost as worrisome as the lack of response, for it was like the man weighed nothing, and that was far too close to his memories of the power station in Theed.
"Be for the best," Vima agreed, chuckling. "Don't need both those boys stutterin' and swearing and embarrassed by all the attention they be getting."
-He'll be fine- Jeimor added a moment later. -I think.-
Qui-Gon stood, steadied by Anakin's hand when Ben's weight might have overbalanced him. He glanced around at the gathered beings, those who had come to keep watch over the silent Avatar. "Take care of your people, Mother Vima," he said.
"Oh, aye. That'll be the easy part," she said. "Master Jinn..."
He paused, glancing back at her, aware that Anakin and Padmé were doing the same. "Yes?"
Vima's smile disappeared, and her eyes filled with wild grief. She had known loss, soul-tearing and horrid. Whoever her Neema had been, the parting had not been kind. "His job-it's almost over. You know what that means."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, steeling himself, and his voice was steady when he answered. "I know."
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
-Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Book 5: Submission
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