Disclaimer: Dear George, you are rich and I am not. You own the
copyrights and I do not. Any resemblance to persons living or
dead is purely coincidental, except for sockii (which was the
whole point =). Also, I have taken creative license with my
description of the problems with maintaining the Archive.
Warning: Unbeta'd, because I wanted to get this out before it
was too late! Damn, I think my Master is going to kill me...
Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan extend a helping hand.
Feedback: Will only make me better, so... to
sirius1@wildmail.com
Notes: For sockii, without whom this playground we all love
could never be. You asked for a massage... belated Happy
Archivist Day!
The door chimed and slid open.
"Padawan, did you get those latest reports to Master Pellegri?"
"Master--"
Something in Obi-Wan's voice tore Qui-Gon's attention from the
console at his desk. "What troubles you?"
"Master, I saw Master Pellegri at her office. She was asleep at
her desk and there were fourteen other reports stacked beside
her, all of them with priority tabs. I didn't have the heart to
wake Master Pellegri with another one."
"There was no one else in the archives?"
"No Master. Doesn't she have assistants? With all the missions
she has to log in the Archives..." Obi-Wan began to pace.
"The Jedi have been stretched thin of late," Qui-Gon frowned.
"I seem to recall someone was invalided out of the active
roster and was attached to her office, but that was months
ago."
"If she has no help, how does she get everything done so
quickly?" Obi-Wan pointed out. "Every single mission report
we've ever submitted to the Archives has been up before day's
end!"
"When I think of all the reports I've turned in late--,"
Qui-Gon ground to a halt. An odd light was in his eyes. "You
say she was asleep at her desk?" he asked finally. "Do you
think you could move Master Pellegri without waking her?"
"I believe so Master. It should only take a touch of the Force
to keep her asleep."
"Indeed. Bring her here."
Obi-Wan paused, half in and half out of the door. "Here,
Master?" His tone was curious.
Qui-Gon was already in the refresher unit, rummaging about in
the cabinet. "Yes, here. We have work to do, Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan took off with a grin. The bottle of
scented body oil his Master had set aside told him everything
he needed to know.
The door was propped open when Obi-Wan returned, a welcome
development as he couldn't have juggled the strain of keeping
the Ockiian Master in his arms asleep and trip the door chime
as well. Without a word, his master waved him toward his room,
where a thick towel had been draped over the bed and a number
of bottles were warming in a pan on the table beside.
After arranging the somnolent Master on the pad, they withdrew
to the common room.
"Master, would it be all right if I head back to the Archival
Offices? I'm sure you can handle Master Pellegri..."
"Wipe that smirk off your face, Padawan." Qui-Gon couldn't
resist the grin that had taken over his features. Sneaking
around the Temple past midnight, kidnapping Masters--it was a
heady reminder of his younger, wilder days as a Padawan.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan--just barely--managed to contain his
laughter. He'd never have expected his own Master to encourage
him in what was almost a Padawan prank. "Actually, I saw that
Master Pellegri had fallen asleep in the middle of one of the
reports. I thought I'd run back in and finish those she'd lined
up for tonight. With your permission, Master?"
"Of course, of course, I should have thought of it myself."
With a wave, Qui-Gon sent him on his way and turned to his own
task.
Carefully weaving his Force-sense into the dreaming mind of
Master Pellegri, Qui-Gon eased her further into sleep. He
locked the suggestion down so that she would remain asleep
until her body had recovered from the abuse she'd put it
through.
With a judicious use of Force, he got her out of her robes and
arranged her on the towel without too much trouble. After
making sure his hands and the body oils were warm enough, he
poured the lightly scented oil -- a tentative sniff proved it
to be nightbloom and mint, wonderfully relaxing mixture -- and
began to work it into the tense shoulders.
Long, slow strokes from neck to shoulder, hands working through
the tangled mass of stressed nerves and tight muscle. Her back
had enough knots in it to plague every Jedi currently in
residence.
Firming and deepening each touch, he continued to work his way
down her spine, soothing every tortured nerve with warmth,
blanketing every last one in a cocoon of healing Force. Over
and over he moved his hands over her back, adding layer after
layer of comfort on each pass until she sighed and snuggled
deeper into the pillow.
Smiling, Qui-Gon pulled the sheet around her, gathered up the
bottles and left the room. Stifling a yawn, he wandered into
Obi-Wan's room to take his own rest. His Padawan would come in
when he was finished with his work.
Colni Pellegri sighed into the pillow and curled up a little
more into the blanket. The beddings smelled different, but that
didn't register. The only thing that did was the refreshing
odor of mint that hung about her and the wonderful sensation of
pure relaxation as--for the first time in days--her back was
unkinked enough to rest in comfort.
Her dreams were filled with the sensation of large, strong
hands rubbing away every knot in her back, as her bones
dissolved into jelly and she fell asleep.
Stifling a groan, Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders and neck, trying
to work out the burn settling into his back. Even with the
automatics to scan the reports for galring errors, it was slow
going. There were any number of translation glitches, as many
reports were written with a fine disregard for Standard. None
of those queued for the night were in the proper format,
requiring that extra bit of work to get them to square with the
collected Chronicles. Worst of all, every time he thought he
was ready to add a report to the Chronicle, he found yet
another tiny error that he had to go back and fix, all over
again. When the system that updated the archives booted him out
for the third time, he nearly wept in frustration.
When he got out of this, he was going to put Master Pellegri up
for sainthood.
Archive 