SPOILERS: Very mild ones for the JA books. Takes place preTPM,
but some speculation about Ep II, or was it III? Actor-wise,
that is. Not particularly noticeable unless you're looking, I
don't think...which brings us to the:
THANKS: to the M_A list, heh, where I first read that bit of
rumor and realized I could play with it.
NOTES: I just do this to drive my Muse crazy. The minute I type
"end," he's gonna hit me over the head with more angst than
you're gonna believe... Well, that's the plan, anyway...
SUMMARY: A boy finds his Master.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated!
"Padawan!" Qui-Gon shouted automatically as another lurching
aftershock trembled the ground beneath his feet. A choking
cloud of dust and smoke had settled over the valley after the
earthquake hit, dimming the weak sun above, but the somber
gloom was stronger within his heart than in his eyes. He and
his Padawan had been sent to help these people, this ragtag
band of refugees and heretics, pacifists and idealists all--and
then this, nearly the entire encampment and its inhabitants
savaged by chance and Nature. If Qui-Gon had been a whit more
superstitious, he'd have said the Force was mocking him.
"I'm fine, Master!" his Padawan called back from somewhere in
the rubble of houses and workshops, a nearly-permanent camp
from the looks of it. The valley was secluded, far from
civilization, but not inhospitable. Were it not for the
persecution of their fellows, these people might have done well
here. Instead, they had been crushed, burned alive, only a
score escaped to board the transport he and his Padawan had
brought to relocate them. A terrible injustice had been done
here, but there was nothing more that could be done about it,
only pick up the pieces and try to find some measure of
acceptance. And hope that the Force would will otherwise the
next time. "I only have a few more houses over here..."
Yes. His Padawan had always been the sensible sort... Qui-Gon
couldn't stop searching for survivors, even though common sense
told him it was unlikely he'd find any more still alive.
Something, instinct or the Force, kept pushing him onward,
insisting he wasn't done yet...
And then he felt it--a faint but fugitive flicker, as if
someone were trying very hard to hide. Someone trying
instinctively to mask his own Force-signature and nearly
succeeding, but for the cold prickle of utter terror that
leaked through the Not-here, Not-important thoughts. Something
about the quality of fear that yammered at the edges of
Qui-Gon's senses seemed woefully young, its formless
disorganization immature, too inexperienced yet to have a
concrete grounds for its panic. A child, then, one who'd seen
enough of wars and witchhunts to associate destruction with
enemy attack but too young to know what that meant. All the
child knew was that it didn't dare be discovered, though it was
close, very close...
In the wreckage of a toppled home, Qui-Gon sensed a feeling of
eyes to go with the creeping, camouflaged Force-signature, and
there he stopped, crouching down with a determinedly
non-threatening expression. "Hello?" he called quietly into the
ruin, dropping one knee into the dust. If he tried to go in
there after the boy, he'd bring the place down around their
ears, what there was of it--all that was left was a tangle of
shattered beams and cracked stone, splintered wood. "My name is
Qui-Gon Jinn," he said into the silence, undeterred by the lack
of response. "I'm a Jedi. I'm here to help you. I promise," he
added after a moment, "no one is here to hurt you. But the
ground is moving beneath us, and it's not safe to stay here.
Will you come with me?"
The feeling that reached him wasn't so much distrust as blind
terror, the child knowing only that it--he?--had been located.
Qui-Gon could sense the boy trying to pull in tighter on
himself, a stunned feeling of betrayal pulsing from the
untrained mind, unable to understand why a trick that had
probably served him well a hundred times before against the
searching of parents and siblings had failed him now. As
Qui-Gon hesitated, uncertain how he should proceed, another
ominous shiver went through the earth, and something in the
toppled house groaned a warning. The entire place was going to
cave in at any moment, and if he couldn't get the child out
before then...
//Think,// he scowled at himself, biting his lip silently. He
was dealing with a child, but a Force-sensitive one. One that
had learned to equate the falling down of houses with soldiers
and death. The Force only knew where the lad's parents were...
The grim fact was, they were probably dead, but he couldn't
help wondering if they would have found it easier to find the
boy than he had, whether they'd had any of the same affinity
with the Force...
Something tickled at the edges of his thoughts again,
destruction and soldiers...Force-blind soldiers...
Hello? he sent--more a feeling than a word, knowing that
this was not a race of strong telepaths. If the boy's
already-strong presence in the Force leant itself to empathy,
however... It's all right...you're safe...you can come out
now. I'm here to help.
He sensed startlement cracking the shell of fear, dazed
bewilderment in the face of something entirely new as the boy
was answered in kind for the first time in his life. In his
head or in his heart, effortless. When Qui-Gon carefully
dropped his shields a bit more to send a feeling of goodwill,
what he sensed in return was wonder. Wonder and a curiosity so
strong, it grabbed hold of him and wouldn't let him go.
Blinking as he absorbed the force of the mental shout, Qui-Gon
resolved to shield this child the minute he got his hands on
the boy. His quarry was too young to truly send
anything, but the lad was broadcasting every thought and
feeling to the world, adrenaline and fear giving him strength.
Qui-Gon itched to take this one back to the Temple,
right away, though if the boy's parents were still
alive...having lost so much, could they possibly agree to give
up their son? //First things first,// he reminded himself, and
sent another mental tug, one promising safety, shelter,
comfort. All the boy had to do was leave the house...and
quickly.
"I'll protect you," Qui-Gon murmured aloud, into the boy's
mind, his sincerity winging straight to a youthful heart.
Slowly, curiosity unabated, a dusty face emerged from the
wreckage, peering at him with brilliant blue eyes glazed with
shock and hope. Not daring to frighten the boy now, Qui-Gon
remained perfectly silent, but he slowly raised his arms,
holding them out wide in invitation, his heart completely open
to the boy.
Like a shot, the child closed the space between them, hurtling
into Qui-Gon's arms and grabbing on tight, bone-deep shivers
wracking the small, thin frame. //Force, he's just a baby,//
Qui-Gon thought to himself in dismay, though he suspected the
boy was older than he looked, hard living stunting his growth.
Not too old for the creche yet...Force will it be so.
Carefully, Qui-Gon stroked the dusty hair, the thin shoulders
and tense spine, humming nonsense under his breath. When a
rippling aftershock hit just minutes later, collapsing the
precarious remains of the boy's home, the child shuddered once
but didn't lift his face from Qui-Gon's neck.
"That was lucky, Master," Qui-Gon heard from behind him, his
Padawan's voice dragging his mind back to the task at hand. The
other buildings...he had to check-- "I cleared the rest of the
camp," his Padawan offered with a trace of apology as Qui-Gon
slowly rose and turned, unwilling to dislodge the tiny burden
locked so determinedly around his neck. "He's the last of them,
I'm afraid..."
"Thank you, Padawan," Qui-Gon smiled sadly down at his
Apprentice, meeting her steady blue eyes with a nod. The dust
and soot in her hair had streaked the red with grey
prematurely, but it had become easier by the day to see his
Padawan as the Knight she would become, her Trials perilously
close. He was going to miss her, very soon... "We should get
back to the transport, then...take these people home."
"Yes, Master." She sounded more subdued than normal, and
Qui-Gon shared her pain. Wherever they relocated these
refugees, it wouldn't be home. It would be safe, but it
wouldn't be home. And with so many of their number missing...
"We need to see if we can locate the boy's family," Qui-Gon
said quietly as they began to walk, shifting the boy slightly
in his grasp to a more comfortable position. The thin arms
tightened momentarily, but as soon as the child realized he
wasn't going to be put down, the boy relaxed a bit more,
curling into Qui-Gon's embrace as bonelessly as a cat.
"I felt him," his Padawan nodded slowly, looking at the boy
with interest. "He's very strong in the Force...you want to
take him back to the Temple, Master?"
"If we can," Qui-Gon agreed, smiling faintly as the boy cuddled
closer, dusty face burrowing into his neck with a sigh. "He
would make a great Jedi Knight..."
"I bet you say that to all the Padawans," his own grinned with
a trace of her quiet cheer, and he dislodged one hand briefly
to tug on her long braid.
"Only the ones that deserve it," he assured her with a smile,
wrapping both arms around the boy once more. They both seemed
infinitely happier that way, and he wasn't quite up to
examining the why of that just yet. Not after the destruction
he'd just witnessed. Right now, it felt good to hold on to
something that needed him, that he'd been able to save from
this, something he could take comfort in as he gave it in
return. He tried to steel himself for the possibility that the
boy's parents might snatch the boy from him the moment they
entered the transport, but that seemed unreal to him, as if the
Force itself was whispering a reassurance that they were both
where they belonged.
Sure enough, there were no parents, no uncles, no cousins.
There was a brother, perhaps a year older, but another couple
had already latched onto that one, which showed no
Force-sensitivity at all. When Qui-Gon asked if he could take
the boy with him to the Temple to be trained, the survivors
stared at him blankly and shrugged, too stunned to protest.
They had their own cares, their own griefs to bear, and the
plight of one dusty boy was too much for them to encompass
amidst all the rest.
"Well, then," Qui-Gon sighed to himself, looking down at the
fair head tucked into his neck. "I guess it's you and me,
lad..."
"Ben," a small voice piped up near his feet--the boy's brother,
peering up at Qui-Gon from the shelter of his newly-adopted
parents' arms.
"Is that is name?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, though he felt the
small twitch of recognition from the curled form in his arms.
"Ben," the other boy repeated, and the woman numbly trying to
clean his face of soot and blood looked up slowly.
"Obi-Wan," she corrected softly. "His name's Obi-Wan Kenobi. He
used to play with my boys..."
Ah. "If you wish to keep him," Qui-Gon began slowly, trying to
keep his reluctance from his voice, but her eyes sharpened on
him frankly, appraisal in her level stare.
"You fight," she said bluntly, and Qui-Gon received the
distinct impression that she was speaking for the rest of the
survivors as well. "But Jedi are said to follow the way of
Peace, as well. Is this true?"
"It is," Qui-Gon replied gravely, as seriously as if he was
petitioning for the child-heir of Alderaan. "We are the
guardians of Peace. If we fight, it is only in defense of
others, and never in anger. We serve the Light in all things."
"Then let him be a Jedi," the woman said quietly. "Let him
guard his own. It will be well."
His own. Not this handful of refugees, but the peaceful, the
ones that could not fight, that would not. The boy could have
received no better training, Qui-Gon suspected, than if he'd
been born and raised in the creche. If only the fear he'd felt
in his first years hadn't yet tainted him...
"I thank you," Qui-Gon sketched a tiny bow, mindful of his
burden. "He will be well cared-for, I promise."
"That's all we could ask," the woman agreed with a faint smile,
running her fingers through the wild, sandy hair of Obi-Wan's
brother. It was almost on the tip of Qui-Gon's tongue to offer
to let Obi-Wan stay with them for the trip, knowing he wouldn't
have time to care for a child as badly-used as this one had
been as he would like...but a spectre of doubt crept into his
thoughts, insisting that they might not be able to give the boy
up if they'd spent time with him, and he very much didn't want
to lose this one. Something told him it would be very
important, keeping this one with him...
His Padawan seemed only mildly surprised to see him join her on
the bridge with the boy still in his arms. "You know," she
smiled faintly, "I'm not sure we have a crash-couch that
small..."
"I'll keep him with me," Qui-Gon replied with all the dignity
he could muster, knowing she'd be chiding him for weeks to come
over his habit of picking up strays. Oh well, it could have
been worse...
Settling into the copilot's chair, he had to shift the boy
again, but this time, young Obi-Wan offered no resistance,
seeming to know instinctively that he wasn't going to be put
down or abandoned. Instead, he let himself be arranged in a new
position and immediately conformed to the contours of his
savior's frame once more, snuggling in with a sleepy, "Mahsta."
Qui-Gon couldn't look. He could hear the stifled squeak
before his Padawan clapped both hands over her mouth,
struggling not to erupt into a rare fit of the giggles. //I
knew it could be worse,// he thought with a sigh, trying
not to show how strangely pleased he was at the same time.
"How many does this make, Master?" his Padawan asked cheerfully
when she had her laughter under control. "First that scamp
Xanatos, and now this one. You're going to be chasing Padawans
around until you're as old as Master Yoda!"
"Thankfully," Qui-Gon grumbled as quellingly as he could, "I
won't live to be that old." Still, all the same...he'd felt a
mild tickle in the Force when Xanatos had all but claimed him
years ago, and he knew where his duty lay after he'd seen his
Padawan into her Knighthood. Part of him didn't want to
take on another Padawan so soon, but there was no one else who
could handle the boy Xanatos, even if he shared the
other Masters' misgivings about the lad.
This time, however, it wasn't just a mild touch of possibility
but a full-blown certainty that exploded in his thoughts, that
this one was meant for him. Not even with his own present
Padawan had he felt the pull of the Force so strongly...
Well. It was years and years yet before he'd have to make that
decision. But he thought he'd remember this moment, the
sweetness of the now-sleeping boy as he'd called Qui-Gon
'Master,' as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe, someday, it would be.
end
SPOILERS/NOTES/THANKS PART 2: Grinning...sorry, but the idea of
Scullyinnabraid just cracks me up entirely, hee... I thought
it'd be fun to do one where she was still his Padawan but with
a definite Q&O theme, and this is what hit me. Shrug!
Thanks, guys, for putting that in my head!
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