Warnings: Umm..some Obi-torture, although nothing graphically
described.
Category: Angst, h/c, JA universe.
Summary: Qui-Gon searches for his lost padawan.
Archive: M&A please. Padawan Journals, Early Years and
Wolfie's Den if wanted.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, of course. This was written with
the deepest respect for Lucas and Co., as well as for the
authors of the JA universe, Jude Watson and Dave Wolverton.
Feedback: Always greatly appreciated, positive or negative.
Acknowledgements: This was written for Padawan Novela, who
requested the background story for Postcard 6. I may eventually
write more, but this is what I have for now. Thanks, Novela,
for the inspiration and for your interest! Actually, I have
many thank-you's to give out for this one! Thanks always to
Pumpkin for her terrific beta help and encouragement. Thanks
also to my Master, Jane St Clair, for her kind words and
constructive criticism, which helped me immensely. Final thanks
to Diane Coffin for sharing her thoughts with me.
Author's Comments: This Postcard is related to Postcard 6,
although I think it can stand for itself. It's a little
different from most of my other postcards partly because it was
written on request, and partly because of the nature of the
story. It goes a bit beyond the Postcard format, yet I did not
feel it was long enough to be considered separately.
Qui-Gon Jinn's sharp blue gaze searched the ragged assembly of
children before him. He'd seen hundreds like these by now, and
his heart ached every time he laid eyes on them. It grieved him
to know that slavery still existed to this extreme on many
outer rim worlds such as Meridius IV. Public sale of slaves was
not only commonplace, but often sanctioned by the planets'
governments, as was the case here.
He had not come for the random liberation of slaves, however.
Right now he could only concern himself with seeking the
freedom of one, no matter how much his heart and soul cried for
the others. Perhaps, when the one he was searching for was
found, he would be able to do something for the rest.
He shook his head and focused back upon the slave master
standing beside him. "No," he said, feigning distaste as he
drew his dark blue cloak around himself. "These are not what I
want at all. Don't you have other stock? I'm looking for
something more...unique."
The slaver looked up at him with a greedy smile on his face.
"Of course, sir. Did you think these would be my only
merchandise? These are just the ones who will be going to
auction at the end of the week. I have others that will not be
sold in the public market. Prettier, better trained. Of course,
those will be more expensive, sir..."
"Let's not discuss price yet," Qui-Gon interrupted. "Let me see
what you have and I will decide for myself how much they are
worth."
The slaver nodded, waving his hand to indicate that his
associate should take the gathered slaves away. He then led
Qui-Gon deeper into the establishment. It took a noble effort
on the disguised Jedi Master's part not to interfere when he
heard the crack of whips and cries of children behind him. He
released his anguish into the Force with great strength of will
and focused once more on his purpose.
Qui-Gon noticed that security here was greater than it had been
in the outer areas of the slavers' den. There were several
guards posted at various checkpoints during their walk. They
passed by many dark, dank cells and cages, most of which reeked
of waste. He supressed a gag as the stench assailed the back of
his nose and throat. It was difficult for Qui-Gon to think of
what life must be like for the slaves here. He had thought he
would get used to it in time, after all, he had been searching
places like this for three months now. He knew of course, that
it was possible Obi-Wan might have already been sold and was no
longer being held at such an establishment. However, the vague
impressions he could glean from his padawan through the Force
suggested otherwise. He would continue to search each and every
slaver's market that he could find until he located the boy, or
until the Force told him to look elsewhere.
The slaver stopped briefly to talk to one of the guards, then
led Qui-Gon through a series of locked gates into a small
outdoor pen area bordered by huge stone walls.
"My associate will bring them out for you," the slaver told
him. "I hope you will find what you are looking for in this
group."
The guard herded out another assortment of children, once more
comprising mostly humans. In Qui-Gon's eyes, they were little
different from the last group, although he supposed the slaver
must have had some basis upon which they were segregated. They
were just as filthy and gaunt as the others had been, and some
even looked drugged. Qui-Gon's eyes scanned hopefully over the
group, even as his heart ached to think of Obi-Wan kept like
this.
Nothing. His padawan was not here. Qui-Gon sighed in
resignation and turned to walk away, his heart heavy. He
paused, however, as the Force stirred slightly, whispering
against his thoughts, urging him to look again.
In the back of the group there was a boy. Not unlike the
others, he was filthy and thin, dressed in rags that were
stained with blood, dirt and dried fluids. His hair was matted
and unkempt. He wavered a bit on his feet as he stood, eyes
downcast and dull.
Qui-Gon's heart leapt into his throat. Months of searching in
vain had made him skeptical. He studied the boy again, his eyes
not recognizing what the Force was telling him. It couldn't be,
and yet it was.
*Obi-Wan.*
Qui-Gon was assaulted by emotions. Joy, anger, fear,
desperation, worry. They all warred within him for control
until he systematically released them into the Force, centering
himself. He was aware of the slaver's eyes upon him. The
charade was not over yet; would not be over until his padawan
was safe, far away from this place.
"That one," Qui-Gon managed to cough out, pointing with a
finger that was not entirely steady. "In the back."
The slaver chuckled and shook his head. "You do have an eye for
unique stock, sir. But as much as I would like to sell you
something today, I'm afraid that one is not for sale. He
shouldn't have been brought out-- I apologize for the error.
Please, choose another. There are plenty of fine young ones
here. From our discussion earlier, I have assumed you are in
the market for a human child? If I was wrong, I can have..."
"No," Qui-Gon interrupted flatly. "I am only interested in
*that* boy. Why is he not for sale? I'm certain I can better
any offer you've yet received for him."
The slaver shuffled uncomfortably. "I am not at liberty to
discuss the reasons in detail. But I can tell you that he would
be a poor choice, even if I was free to sell him. He is defiant
and poorly trained. He must be chained and collared at all
times. He is a Force-sensitive so he must wear a
Force-suppressor as well as an electrocollar. I assure you he
takes a great amount of effort to control." The slaver paused
before giving his customer a hopeful look. "I am certain you
will find something more to your liking here. Please..."
"No," Qui-Gon said again, his voice firm, and this time
carefully interwoven with Force. "You will be happy to sell him
to me," he suggested. "It will be good to be rid of him."
"I'll be happy to sell him to you," the slaver repeated after
only a few heartbeats. "It will be good to be rid of him. He's
been a problem since the day he arrived."
It was difficult for Qui-Gon to leave his padawan, but there
were finances to discuss and papers to be signed before he
could collect the boy and free him from this abominable place.
He followed the slaver to his crude office to complete the
transaction. There he was given Obi-Wan's slave papers, the
control to his collar, keys for his restraints, and the
frequency for the slavers' tracking device that had been
implanted into his body. Qui-Gon remained stoic throughout it
all, despite his inner revulsion and desire to throttle the
slavemaster where he stood.
When the final papers were signed and the slaver was finally
pleased with the monetary exchange, Obi-Wan was brought to him.
A short leash was attached to his wrist restraints; they
clinked together as the slaver yanked Obi-Wan forward. Qui-Gon
accepted the leash with inner horror as it was handed to him,
knowing the charade must continue until they reached the
transport.
While not taking his attention from the slaver, Qui-Gon was
able to evaluate Obi-Wan's physical state. He was too thin by
far, with untold injuries. His padawan braid was missing and
his hair had grown out a little since his captivity. He was
malnourished, dehydrated, and apparently drugged. The boy
showed no recognition as he stumbled forward in response to a
small shove from his former handler. His pupils were dilated,
with only a small rim of smoky green iris showing around the
black.
Qui-Gon realized a true buyer would probably question the boy's
lethargy. "Is he drugged?" he demanded, already knowing the
answer.
"Ah... yes," the slaver replied, hedging. "It's just a small
sedative. Makes 'em more docile. If you'd like, I can supply
you with some. Believe me, if you let it wear off, you'll wish
you hadn't."
"No," Qui-Gon insisted, fighting to hide his distaste,
maintaining his act with some difficulty. "Thank you, but I...
prefer a struggle."
The slaver chuckled knowingly. "Then you will be pleased with
your purchase. I wish you luck with him. You're going to need
it!"
Qui-Gon nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I'd best be
on my way," he commented, giving the leash a gentle tug.
Obi-Wan stumbled forward, nearly falling. Qui-Gon reached out
and took him by the arm to steady him, moving forward at the
fastest pace the boy could manage. They wove their way through
the streets, the common sight of a master with a newly
purchased slave not drawing even the slightest of attention
from those they passed.
It was a great relief when the slaver's market finally faded
from sight. Qui-Gon was almost totally supporting his padawan's
weight now. The boy was breathing heavily, eyes half-closed.
The Jedi Master waited until they were well away from anyone
who might have been watching. Then, feeling as though his heart
might break, he swept the frail, unresisting boy into his arms
and carried him the rest of the way to the ship.
They were almost a full standard day from Meridius IV when the
drugs finally began to wear off. Qui-Gon had hoped to spare the
boy further pain, so he had cleaned Obi-Wan's wounds the best
he could and had dressed them with bacta patches while the
sedative was still in effect. The worst were the infected whip
marks on his back and the deep abrasions on his wrists and neck
from the restraints. However, there were many other injuries,
including a poorly healed compound fracture of his right arm.
It was obvious the fracture had never even been crudely
stabilized, let alone tended to by a bone fuser.
Qui-Gon had used the medpac's sample analyzer on Obi-Wan's
blood and had forwarded the results to the Temple healers so
they would have information prior to their patient's arrival.
At their instruction, he had already begun fluid therapy to
correct the boy's hydration status, and broad-spectrum
antibiotics to combat the infections.
Qui-Gon had contacted the Council as well. It was the first
time in almost three standard months that he had spoken to his
peers. He had discontinued all communication with them after
he'd been forbidden to continue the search for his padawan. He
had sent a few private communications to Yoda during that time,
simply because he knew how fond the little master was of
Obi-Wan, and also because Yoda had told him that he disagreed
with the rest of the Council members' decision. The decision
had been based solely upon politics, and neither Qui-Gon nor
Yoda had been willing to sacrifice a padawan for such a trivial
state of affairs.
What Qui-Gon's punishment would be for defying the Jedi Council
remained to be seen. Privately, he feared they would try to
take Obi-Wan from him. But for now, he needed to focus upon the
moment. And at the moment there was a very sick, very weak boy
who desperately needed him.
He was adjusting Obi-Wan's fluid rate when his padawan began to
stir. Lashes fluttered briefly over somewhat glazed greenish
eyes, the pupils now returned to their normal size. The boy
moaned softly and blinked again, looking around as if in a
daze.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon knelt by his bedside and brushed his fingers
through the unkempt hair.
The boy flinched at the touch and let out a soft cry, panic
evident in his features as he tried to scramble away.
"Shh, my Padawan," Qui-Gon soothed. "It's all right. You are
safe now. Just rest."
Obi-Wan's eyes took a second to track to the source of the
voice. He stared for a moment, blinking uncertainly.
"M..M'aster?" he whispered weakly, sounding confused and
unbelieving.
"Yes, Obi-Wan, it's me." Qui-Gon leaned closer and stroked his
fingers along a pale cheek. "I've found you at last. You're
safe now. We're headed for the Temple. Just try to relax and
sleep."
The boy was still looking at him as though he were not real,
but then Qui-Gon felt a small tendril of Force tentatively
reach out to him from his apprentice.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened in shock and surprise. He extended a
trembling hand toward his master's. "It...really *is*
you...isn't it? I...I can feel you," he breathed, astonished,
his voice weak and raspy. "The Force...I can feel it."
Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes. You were wearing a Force-suppressor,
Padawan. I removed it."
He reached for the carafe of water by Obi-Wan's bedside,
pouring some into a glass and then offering the boy a few
careful sips from it. Obi-Wan accepted the assistance
gratefully, seeming a little less disoriented.
"Now rest," Qui-Gon prompted as he took the water away. "There
will be plenty of time for discussion later. We are still far
removed from Coruscant."
Obi-Wan seemed reluctant to take his eyes from his master. "I
dreamed," he whispered softly, his tone still incredulous. "So
many times I dreamed you came for me. But it was never real."
"Shh," Qui-Gon admonished, pulling the boy's blankets up
farther and then smoothing his hair gently. "I assure you I am
quite real. You're safe now, but you must rest. Promise me,
Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan nodded, suddenly looking far younger than Qui-Gon could
ever remember him appearing. "I promise, Master," he whispered,
then quietly gave in to the allurement of sleep.
Qui-Gon sat silent vigil over his slumbering padawan as the
starship sped through hyperspace. It was almost unreal, seeing
Obi-Wan in this condition. But even more unreal was seeing him
here, safe at last. Qui-Gon realized that even though he had
been determined to find the boy, he'd begun to give up hope
somewhere along the way.
He had witnessed so much suffering during his search. Beings
who were abused, with no rights and no voice to speak for them.
It had sickened him, and he had needed to meditate after each
encounter, just to center himself in the Force and reaffirm his
goals. It would have been easy to become sidetracked, to allow
himself to take up their cause and immerse himself in a battle
against rim-world slavery. But the Force had kept him grounded,
reminding him gently of his goal during each meditation. He was
not meant to become a galactic emancipator. But the Force had
wanted him to find his padawan, despite his dwindling hope.
As he watched Obi-Wan's quiet breathing in the bed beside him,
Qui-Gon was reminded again that some things were meant to be.
Especially when it came to he and his padawan being together.
He realized then that he would endure whatever punishment the
Council saw fit to give him, because he knew that the Force had
guided the decision he'd made. Whatever destiny had in store
for Obi-Wan Kenobi, it was Qui-Gon Jinn who was meant to guide
him on his journey to Knighthood.
"I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight, my Obi-Wan," he
whispered quietly before turning down the lights and settling
in to continue his vigil.
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