Out of the Jungle

by Anastasia ( padawan_ana@yahoo.com )

Pairing: Q/O

Rating: PG

Category: angst, h/c

Summary: When Obi-Wan's lander crashes during a training mission, Qui-Gon must make his way through a far-off jungle to find him.

Spoilers: For TPM in general

Archive: M/A and my own site. All others please ask.

Disclaimer: Never been there ... never done that ... just wish I had ...

Author Notes: Thanks to Caly for beta reading this and sticking with it, even when the 'snippet' she originally had in mind turned into ... this. This is all your fault, Caly. You've created a monster. :)

Story Dedication: The fact that this fic was written at all stems entirely from Calysta Rose's influence. Out of the blue one night, Caly suggested a Q/O story idea and the more I thought about it, the more inviting the idea became. I've been away from writing TPM for so long, I wasn't sure I could write it anymore. But Caly insisted I could and this fic is the result. Thank you, thank you Caly, for believing in me even when I couldn't imagine plunging back into this again. Your encouragement kept me writing, and your ideas for *more* may encourage me to continue. : )

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's voice was hoarse from continued shouting, his lungs heavy with the oppressive jungle air. "Obi-Wan!"

Like a wild man, Qui-Gon swung his light saber from side to side, chopping haphazardly at the thick foliage, destroying anything that dared to separate him from his padawan. He had not tracked Obi-Wan half-way across the galaxy to have him die here in the jungles of Tanzar.

/Obi-Wan ... / Qui-Gon projected as he kicked at the fallen leaves and vines. /I know you can hear me, even if you can't respond./

Cursing, Qui-Gon swiped the sleeve of his robe across his cheek, blotting at a scrape caused by a stray branch. Taking a shaky breath, he thought of Obi-Wan, hurt and alone in the heartless jungle, and doubled his pace.

/I can feel you, Obi-Wan ... / The very thought made Qui-Gon light-headed and he clung for a moment to an overhanging branch, steadying himself. /By the Force, Obi-Wan ... for the first time in almost a week I can feel you in my mind. And if you have felt even half as powerless and empty as I have, then there is even more of a need for me to find you./

Despite the sweltering heat, Qui-Gon shivered, his knees weak at the direction of his thoughts. Whether from Obi-Wan's injuries or the distance between them, he had temporarily lost his connection to his padawan learner ... something Qui-Gon had no wish to repeat. Ever.

/You are a beautiful flower in the cold, dark recesses of an old man's mind, my padawan,/ Qui-Gon thought as he grabbed a handful of vines and tossed them roughly aside. /Please know that you are the beat of my heart, the blood that courses through my veins, the air that I breathe, and know that I am coming for you, my Obi-Wan./

Just as he thought his chest would explode from worry and the strain of his breakneck pace, Qui-Gon's light saber connected with something more solid than fauna. Obi-Wan's lander. Slashing through the last bit of plant life that separated him from Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon leapt into the small area that had been cleared by the crashed spacecraft.

"Oh, gods, Obi-Wan ... " Qui-Gon whispered.

What remained of the lander was nothing more than a heap of twisted metal. Obi-Wan's presence was clearly there, somewhere, but surely he could not still be inside. Quickly, Qui-Gon scanned the green surroundings, half expecting to see Obi-Wan lying within sight. "Obi-Wan?"

A grass snake slithered across Qui-Gon's boot; stopping, it lifted its head as if sensing the master's uncertainty.

/Obi-Wan ... please tell me where you are ... /

/ ... /

"Obi-Wan?" Even the non-answer was like a sparkling fountain to Qui-Gon's parched mind.

/?/

It was Obi-Wan's presence ... centered in the lander. Knowing he couldn't chance cutting through the wreckage with his 'saber, Qui-Gon began ripping apart the battered ship with his bare hands.

"Obi-Wan!" A scrap of his padawan's robe caught Qui-Gon's attention, urging him on. In seconds, he had dug down to Obi-Wan's body, appalled at what he found.

The padawan was whiter than the tattered tunic he wore, his fine, silky hair matted and blood-encrusted from a deep gash across his forehead. Jaw at a distinctly odd angle, Obi-Wan had the appearance of a rag doll, arms and legs thrown to the sides as if he'd been cruelly discarded.

"Oh, Obi-Wan ... " Qui-Gon fell to his knees beside the younger man. "By the gods ... how could this happen?" Even as he spoke, Qui-Gon moved his hands across and down Obi-Wan's body, checking for fever, pulse rate, and injuries invisible even to a Jedi master's eyes.

Running his hands along the edges of Obi-Wan's clothing, wanting to lift the padawan to safety, to clean him up and take him away from the crash site, Qui-Gon encountered a problem. The heat of the crash had fused Obi-Wan's shirt and robes to the ship's metal; it appeared the only way to free him would be to rip the useless remains away.

"Obi-Wan ... Obi-Wan ... Obi-Wan ... " Qui-Gon began a hushed chanting as he worked on his trapped padawan. Fervently, carefully, Qui-Gon tore at the fabric, discarding the rotting material in a pile behind him.

When at last Obi-Wan was free of the ruined clothing, Qui-Gon slipped out of his own robe and spread it on the ground over the crushed vegetation. As gently as he was able, Qui-Gon worked his large hands beneath his padawan's broken body, not daring to breathe until Obi-Wan lay safely on the brown softness.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said again, his heart heavy. That Obi-Wan had not responded at all gave him a sick feeling down to the very bottom of his soul. "My poor padawan, how you have suffered ... " Qui-Gon choked out, the words sticking in his throat.

Retrieving his water pouch, Qui-Gon soaked a cloth from the first-aid supplies and began to wash Obi-Wan's face. He knew he would not be able to clean Obi-Wan thoroughly, but the wound on his head needed tending to and for some reason it made Qui-Gon feel better to wipe away the reminder of his padawan's ordeal, if only in some small part.

The days of dried blood and ash clung stubbornly to Obi-Wan's forehead and cheeks; Qui-Gon scrubbed at it as lightly as he could, but even with the antiseptic spray he was afraid of infection. The jungle was sultry but still Obi-Wan was fever-hot, the muscles in his face twitching involuntarily at Qui-Gon's touches.

Finished, yet unsatisfied, Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, weighing his options. Dusk was coming. It would be safer for both of them to travel when there was light and less chance of nighttime predators.

It had taken Qui-Gon nearly two hours by foot to make it to Obi-Wan during the daytime; the darkness and the fact that he would now be carrying Obi-Wan was sure to slow him down. Then again, there was a trail cut through now and if Qui-Gon could manage to follow it, it would be much easier to make his way back to his skiff.

Allowing Obi-Wan's health to help him choose, Qui-Gon looked him up and down from his cracked lips to his bruised and cut torso and limbs. There were at least two places broken in his left arm and a bad break to his left leg. The fingers on his hand were dark purple and swollen, indicating a lack of circulation.

Tenderly, Qui-Gon ran the backs of his fingers the length of Obi-Wan's cheekbone. He placed the other hand on Obi-Wan's chest, over his heart, feeling the too-slow, too-shallow rhythm there.

Fear chilled the Jedi master's heart. Trembling, burning up, deep in shock, Obi-Wan was in trouble. Pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, Qui-Gon made his decision. Wrapping Obi-Wan tightly in the large robe to avoid any unnecessary jostling, Qui-Gon lifted his padawan into his arms and set off again into the shadow-filled jungle.

Two hours later, Qui-Gon had covered only half the distance back to his skiff. Every kilometer he'd found himself stopping to reposition Obi-Wan, also using those times to drink something and to try to get a small bit of water into the dehydrated padawan.

Stopping for a fourth time, Qui-Gon knelt down, gently laying Obi-Wan on the rubbery leaf covering of the jungle floor. With his sleeve, he wiped the sweat from his brow, working overtime to control his breathing and the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Come now, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon held a wet cloth to the younger man's lips, squeezing a few drops of water onto the dry, broken skin. "I'm sorry we're not making better time. I guess I overestimated my own abilities."

Qui-Gon ran a hand through his tangled hair and gave a soft, ironic laugh. "You're always trying to break me of that, aren't you, my padawan? I want to be everything to you; as your master I feel I must. But you seem to know differently. At every bend and turn in our lives, you make sure I know it is all right to be fallible, that you will stand by my side whether I am perfect or not."

With the back of his hand, Qui-Gon checked Obi-Wan's temperature. It was still dangerously high. "I think that's what I enjoy most about you, Obi-Wan," he told his student quietly. Prying each eyelid open, Qui-Gon found them unevenly dilated. Nothing had changed.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "You are going to be a wonderful master someday, my Obi-Wan. I promise you will get that chance."

Standing once more, Qui-Gon carefully hefted his burden into his arms, ignoring the tired ache of over-strained muscles. This time he resolved not stop until they were both safely aboard the spacecraft.

Cocking his head, Qui-Gon listened for any movement from the back of the cabin as he readied the ship for take-off and put in a call to the Temple.

"Master Jinn, Sir?" the young voice at the other end of his communication said. "I'm transferring you to Master Windu's quarters now, Sir."

Qui-Gon blinked in confusion as his orders were obeyed before he even had time to give them.

"Qui-Gon?" Mace's voice was a mere level below outright panic. "Tell me what's happening. Did you find him?"

As tired and worried as he was, Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile at his old friend's concern; others saw only the rigid, surly Council member, while Qui-Gon was so often witness to the kind, caring, side of this man. Between his padawan and his best friend, Qui-Gon knew he had a lot to be thankful for.

"Yes, I found him," Qui-Gon assured the other master. Still puzzling over the quick reaction of Temple communications, Qui-Gon couldn't help asking, "But how did you ... ?"

Mace made an impatient sound. "Padawan Sidney is on the communications board this shift. I instructed him that any communication from you was to be sent directly to me. Obi-Wan is one of our own, Qui-Gon." He paused. "He's one of yours. We're all concerned."

"None as much as you, I think," Qui-Gon said softly, the corners of his mouth turning up again.

Mace cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, as a member of the Council ... "

"You're more than that and you know it, my friend," Qui-Gon said simply, saving the other man from an explanation that threatened to turn more emotional than Mace would permit.

"How is he, Qui-Gon?" Mace asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Qui-Gon drew in as deep of a breath as he was able; the jungle humidity still filled his lungs, making them feel heavy and congested.

"His injuries are serious, Mace," Qui-Gon said honestly. "The lander was almost completely destroyed ... " He heard the quick intake of Mace's breath. "He's got several broken bones and a body full of cuts and bruises. I suspect some of the cuts are infected because his temperature is so high."

Closing his eyes against the memories, Qui-Gon listened again for any sign that his padawan was waking.

"Can he tell you what happened, Qui-Gon?" Mace was asking. "The Council regrets sending him on that particular training exercise, but they are anxiously awaiting news on what caused the craft to go down ... "

"He can't, Mace." Qui-Gon's throat closed around the words.

"He's unable ... ?"

"He's ... unconscious."

For several seconds there was silence between them. "And when he was conscious? Was he coherent? Could he tell you anything?" Mace finally asked.

Qui-Gon held his breath, held in the terror and the tears and the panic until it hurt, then let it out in a deep shudder. "He ... " Qui-Gon had to swallow hard before he could continue. "He has not regained consciousness since I found him. He is ill Mace. He's hurt and he's very, very i ... "

"Qui-Gon, I'm sorry." Mace's voice was full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry this had to happen. I promise you we have the best healers on Coruscant standing by. If you can get Obi-Wan this far, we'll do all we can for him. For both of you."

"I've done everything I can think of Mace, but ... " Gods ... he didn't want to admit it, for fear it would come true. " ... I'm not sure it's going to be suffient."

"Enough," Mace told him, in his best no-nonsense voice. "What would Yoda say if he heard you talking like this?"

The question was rhetorical, but Qui-Gon couldn't help but respond. "Please," he said. "My head already aches, without having to ponder that little green ... "

"Qui-Gon, go!" Mace said in exasperation. "Plot the quickest course, set the autopilot and go tend to your padawan. If anyone can reach him, you can, my friend. Bring him back to us ... and then bring him back to us. We'll be right here waiting."

"He means everything to me, Mace. I will do whatever is within my power and then some. I will see you soon."

"Force be with you," Mace returned as communications were ended.

/*whimper*/

The breath froze in Qui-Gon's chest. Obi-Wan. With lightning speed, Qui-Gon set the course and speed, glancing out the viewscreen once to be sure everything was as it should be. Then, leaping to his feet with the agility of a first year padawan, Qui-Gon headed for the back of the ship.

/...pain.../

Qui-Gon found Obi-Wan curled on his side, his uninjured arm wrapped about his stomach, face contorted with agony. The blankets Qui-Gon had tucked around him were thrown to the floor.

"Obi-Wan!" Immediately, Qui-Gon was on his knees at his padawan's side, replacing the blankets, monitoring the too-quick pulse that pounded beneath the fragile skin at Obi-Wan's taut neck.

"Obi-Wan, it's all right. I'm here now. Can you feel me holding your hand?" Cautiously, Qui-Gon unfolded the closest of Obi-Wan's hands and threaded his fingers through the cold, thin ones.

/*pain*/

The mental cry tore at Qui-Gon's heart; the moan that escaped Obi-Wan's lips broke it.

/Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon tried communicating through their bond. /You're injured. Do you remember what happened to you?/ There was no response.

/You were sent on a training mission by the Council and something happened to your lander. You went down in the jungles of Tanzar nearly a week ago. We have been trying to find you...*I* have been trying to find you ... / He lifted a hand to Obi-Wan's face, tenderly touching his cheek and hair, carefully avoiding the large white bandage and the purple bruising at his forehead.

/...can't.../

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's heartbeat quicken, wondering how, with its present racing, that was possible. /It is understandable that you cannot remember, Obi-Wan. Do not worry. Rest now. I will be here with you. Shhhh..../ Qui-Gon whispered, hoping to coax Obi-Wan into a more healing sleep now that he had the freedom to sit with him.

/...master...pain.../

The words cut through Qui-Gon. /I know, Obi-Wan. And I am sorry. I will give you as much comfort as I am able, but I'm afraid your injuries are going to require the skill of the healers on Coruscant. Giving you anything stronger than you've already had might harm you more than help you./

The thoughts from Obi-Wan came slowly, hesitantly. /No...master...*your*...pain.../ His breathing hitched and Obi-Wan shuddered, his entire body shaking in reaction.

The Jedi master's eyes widened at the repercussions of that statement. Bonded masters and padawans affected one another's moods and mindsets, but such a thing was usually trained for and forgotten about early in each student's schooling.

Qui-Gon's stomach pitched. If Obi-Wan's shields were weakened from his injuries, it was possible that Qui-Gon's thoughts and feelings were bleeding through to the padawan. Added to his own condition, it would surely overwhelm, if not incapacitate, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon felt ill.

/Are you saying you can feel what I'm thinking and feeling Obi-Wan?/

As Qui-Gon talked, he used a steady stroking of his padawan's arm to begin calming and centering himself. Pointedly, he counted the breaths as they entered and exited his lungs, finding that as his own heart ceased its painful hammering, Obi-Wan's breathing relaxed somewhat.

/You...hurt.../ came the stuttered reply.

Qui-Gon felt his face and neck flush. He had either caused harm to his padawan with his reactions to the situation or he was projecting his feelings loudly enough for Obi-Wan to be aware of them. Either way, he had hurt Obi-Wan. Shame fell upon Qui-Gon like a thick, choking fog.

/M...master...stop.../ Rocking now from side to side, Obi-Wan's movements threatened to undo all of Qui-Gon's handiwork on his injuries.

"Obi-Wan, stop!" Angry at himself and upset at the irreparable damage he might have done, Qui-Gon echoed his padawan's words, but stopped short of another shout as Obi-Wan's body stiffened.

/Obi-Wan...please...you must remain still. I am afraid for you. You are already so injured.../ Putting a hand to his mouth, Qui-Gon pressed hard, physically stifling the scream that was building in his chest. It was all too much. But for Obi-Wan's sake...

Inching closer to Obi-Wan, watching his padawan's reactions, Qui-Gon concentrated on breathing slowly in and out, in and out, again seeing how his relaxation stilled Obi-Wan. Gently, he slid his hands beneath Obi-Wan's broken body, holding him as tightly as his padawan's injuries would allow.

/Obi-Wan, I am sorry...I am so sorry.../

Slowly, slowly Qui-Gon evened his breathing and cleared his mind. Stroking Obi-Wan's hair, listening as the frantic pounding of his padawan's heart lessened, Qui-Gon centered his thoughts to include only those of peace and tranquility ... and the young man in his arms.

Holding his padawan close, Qui-Gon dropped into a light meditative trance. There, on that higher plain, he began to purge his inner demons, filling his mind instead with the goodness, the light, the purity that was Obi-Wan.

/Master.../ Obi-Wan's voice was soft, sleepy.

/Obi-Wan!/ Immediately, Qui-Gon was on alert.

/You're here, Master...you came...for me.../

/Oh, my Obi-Wan, of course I did./

Quiet tears of joy and exhaustion leaked from the corners of Obi-Wan's eyes.

Concerned, but knowing Obi-Wan's emotions were very close to the surface, Qui-Gon reached out; gently, he wiped away the salty rivulets with the sleeve of his robe.

/I only wish I could have reached you sooner./ Qui-Gon hung his head. /For that I will always be sorry./ The ache in his heart returned two-fold at the thought of his suffering padawan.

/No, Master...don't.../ Obi-Wan could not seem to keep the tears from coming. /You're here now.../

Qui-Gon smiled. /And you do not wish me to dwell on the past, is that it? I am happy to see that Master Yoda's lessons have had an effect on you, padawan ... "

His hands began tracing a small series of circles on Obi-Wan's back. /Rest, now, my Obi-Wan. Sleep and heal. I am here now, and you are.../ The word 'safe' froze on Qui-Gon's lips. He could not say something that wasn't true. He had caused Obi-Wan almost as much harm as the accident.

/NEVER, Master!/ Obi-Wan's thoughts were loud in Qui-Gon's mind. /You...helped me. You saved...me. Never...think...otherwise.../

/You should not have to be saved from the failings of your own master, Obi-Wan.../

Obi-Wan struggled to open heavy-lidded eyes, but his fatigue was too great. Instead, he managed to move his uninjured hand minutely, searching out Qui-Gon's larger one. When his hand was taken in the other man's warm grasp, Obi-Wan sighed.

/I *am* safe, Master. In your arms, I am always safe./