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“These…hallucinations you described, when did they start?” the Soul Healer looked down at her data pad, carrying his case file, no doubt.

“When I woke up last morning…” although, if he thought about it, that wasn’t true. He’d seen Quincy for the first time before he even knew there was such a person, back on Yavin. He amended his answer.

The Soul Healer nodded. “That confers with the data Healer Tovi gave me. It seems you contracted the virus that’s responsible for your condition several weeks ago on Mandovia, and it erupted with a vengeance when you were on Yavin. That and the concussion you suffered when you were hit by the transport should explain your hallucinations. We’re trying to find the right dosage of your medication to keep your from falling back into coma, but we can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Please, Healer, do what you must, but keep me here. I can’t go back, I don’t want to. When I’m there it’s all so real, I can’t fight it. Please, I’ll do anything, let you do anything, but don’t let me go back.”

She looked at him with deep compassion, and in that moment she reminded him a lot of Quincy. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do, Padawan. It’s up to you.”

“What can I do?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. In cases where one can only really wait for the patient to get better, I tend to suggest meditation. That always helps.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Of course.”

He paused, considering. Did he really want an answer to his next question?

Courage, Kenobi. “Healer, why do I hallucinate being trapped in a psychiatric ward?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really know, though I have my suspicions. Your mind tries to deal with the disease and maybe that’s why your subconscious has placed you in a hospital. The fact that your doctor there resembles your Master is an indication that the hallucination might be a way to help your body deal with the disease.”

Obi-Wan smiled humourlessly. “Well, in that case, maybe someone should get the news to my subconscious that it isn’t helping at all.”

The Healer chuckled and stood, indicating the end of the session. “I’m sure your subconscious will get the message sooner or later.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “From your lips to the Force, Healer.”

“Picture a burning candle. It burns in your mind, in the centre of your being. Look into the flame. Concentrate on it. Become the flame. Let it consume you. Let the light burn away everything that is outside, everything that is not you, the core of your being, until there is nothing but you and the light. Very good. Breathe into the flame. Into the centre of your being. Now call the Force. Let yourself fall…Tobias… let the Force carry…”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in shock. “What did you say?”

Qui-Gon frowned at him, puzzled. “I said ‘Let the Force carry you.’ Why?”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master’s features, stared as his vision swam and for a moment Qui-Gon was overlaid by Quincy, the two men merging, and when Qui-Gon’s lips moved, Obi-Wan could hear Quincy call him. “Toby…”

He shook his head. Focus, Obi-Wan. Here and now. He tried to reach out to Qui-Gon, but he couldn’t move his hand, couldn’t breathe suddenly, and his vision swam even more. He heard Qui-Gon call “Obi-Wan” and suddenly he was looking down on a piece of paper where he could read, in a neat script he clearly recognised, “Picture a burning candle. It burns in your mind, in the centre of your being. Look into the flame. Concentrate on it. Become the flame. Let it consume you. Let the light burn away everything that is outside, everything that is not you, the core of your being, until there is nothing but you and the light. Very good. Breathe into the flame. Into the centre of your being. Now call the Force. Let yourself fall…..Tobias….. let the Force carry…”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in shock. “What did you say?”

Qui-Gon frowned at him, puzzled. “I said ‘Let the Force carry you.’ Why?”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master’s features, stared as his vision swam and for a moment Qui-Gon was overlayered by Quincy, the two men merging, and when Qui-Gon’s lips moved, Obi-Wan could hear Quincy call him. “Toby…”

He shook his head. Focus, Obi-Wan. Here and now. He tried to reach out to Qui-Gon, but he couldn’t move his hand, couldn’t breathe, suddenly and his vision swam even more and he heard Qui-Gon call “Obi-Wan”

His vision snapped back into perfect focus and when he looked up, he met Quincy’s blue, blue eyes that were so much and so little like the ones he had just left behind.

Quincy stared at him, clearly startled. “Toby? Are you here?”

Obi-Wan stared at Quincy, then at the book. Are you here. Are you here. Toby, are you here.

He stood up, picked up the book and threw it against the wall with all the strength he could muster. From somewhere inside him the scream started, “Am I here? Am I here? How the hell should I know that?”

He turned to Quincy. “Fuck you with your ‘Are you here?’.”

Quincy held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Toby, I know you must be confused, but please…”

“You know I must be confused? You know shit. Fuck you! Fuck the whole lot of you! Just leave me alone, and take your ‘Are you here’ with you!”

Obi-Wan collapsed on the floor, having screamed himself hoarse. He was just so damned exhausted and confused. He just wanted this whole roller coaster ride to stop! He couldn’t do this anymore, Toby or Obi-Wan or whoever else he was just couldn’t take it anymore.

He didn’t resist when a nurse came in and helped Quincy to put him on the bed, and he was faintly grateful to feel the syringe at his neck. He embraced unconsciousness willingly and joyfully, for it never called him by any name other than his own.

“Toby?”

He didn’t even move. He continued to stare at the wall next to his bed, curled up, back to the door. “Go away.”

A heavy sigh. “Toby, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but there’s someone here to see you.”

He just grunted.

“Toby, please. Do I have to spend the next two days sitting in this chair while you pretend to ignore me again? I thought we’d moved past that. I thought we’d established that you can tell me everything that pisses you off?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He guessed the man had a point. Grudgingly, he turned around and faced Quincy, his muscles protesting a bit after almost two days of moving only from the bed to the bathroom and back. “Who is it?”

Quincy sighed in relief. “Thank you. As to who it is, I’d like to see if you recognise her on your own.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Whatever.”

Quincy didn’t seem to like the answer very much but since there wasn’t much he could say or do he just nodded and turned to leave.

Obi-Wan sighed. Perfect. He was alienating the only thing even approaching a friend he had here. He had to do something. “Quincy?”

“Yes?” The doctor turned in the doorway.

“Warn my mystery visitor that I’m a bit of a pain in the arse at the moment?”

Quincy smiled, and Obi-Wan thought that alone had been worth the effort. “I’ll tell her. But I think she already knows that.”

Obi-Wan smiled back, a small effort but worth it to see the warmth return to Quincy’s eyes. The doctor gave him one last wink and went to collect the mysterious visitor.

As soon as Quincy left the room, Obi-Wan sat up in bed and ran his hands through his untidy hair, trying to straighten it into a semblance of order. He knew it was futile, and he didn’t even know why he tried to look presentable; he only felt an uneasy nervousness in his stomach. He had a suspicion as to who this mystery visitor could be, he’d read enough of Toby’s diaries to know the man wasn’t exactly a people magnet and therefore had very few friends.

Stop fussing, he told himself as he fumbled with the robe he was wearing over his pyjamas, trying to straighten it out. He sighed and folded his hands together in his lap. Staring down at his hands, he discovered that he wasn’t a bit nervous, he was very nervous. His last visitors hadn’t exactly turned out to be fun, after all. He was afraid to meet another emotionally confusing bit of his, or better yet, of Toby’s past.

When the mysterious bit of his past finally entered, closely followed by a concerned-looking Dr.Quincy, it was in the shape of a woman in her late twenties, who looked equally if not more nervous as him and Obi-Wan felt instantly better.

She was short, had long reddish hair similar in colour to his own and a few freckles in her pale face. She was pretty in a too-thin way, wore a thick woollen cardigan that almost swallowed her slender hands and she looked a bit out of place, a phenomenon Obi-Wan suspected was eternal to her person.

He smiled at her, oddly encouraged by her obvious apprehension. She relaxed slightly at seeing his smile and even returned it.

Obi-Wan looked at her, his head tilted to the side, and decided to venture a guess. “Hello, Erin.”

Her smile turned brighter and more genuine. “Hi.”

He motioned to a chair. “Don’t you want to sit down?”

Erin followed his invitation shyly, and Obi-Wan nodded at Quincy, who returned his nod, relieved.

He returned his concentration to his visitor, who was rubbing her hands together. “Are you cold?”

She nodded and looked at him searchingly. “You don’t really recognise me, do you? You just ventured a lucky guess.”

Obi-Wan gave her an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “Don’t apologise. You’re sick, that’s not your fault.”

“Still, it can’t be easy for you to see me like this.”

“No, it isn’t. Still…” she trailed off with a shrug.

They studied each other for a while in silence. Obi-Wan noticed she was very uncomfortable and kept darting nervous looks at her surroundings.

“Want to go for a walk?” Obi-Wan asked. Maybe outside she’d be calmer.

Erin nodded gratefully, then turned to Quincy. “May we?”

Quincy nodded. “Of course, but I’ll have to come along as supervision.”

Both of them accepted the stipulation with relief. They weren’t quite ready to be alone yet.

The air outside was crisp and fresh and did Obi-Wan no end of good. He also noticed that Erin was much calmer once they left the building.

“You don’t like hospitals very much, do you?” Obi-Wan asked, re-opening conversation.

She smiled, a bit sadly. “Do you know anyone who does? I spent too much time in places like this.”

“Must be difficult for you to come visit me then.”

“Yes, but I missed you,” she said quietly. She wasn’t looking at him, but at the surrounding trees. “I came to visit you every week when you were first here, but you didn’t even know I was there, so Dr. Quincy took me aside one day and talked to me, and from then I only came once a month. You still didn’t know I was there, but at least I got to see you once in a while.”

Obi-Wan looked down at the path they were wandering along. Dr. Quincy was walking a few metres behind them to give them some privacy. He didn’t know what he thought of that yet, didn’t know what he thought about Erin yet. He felt compassion for her, that much was clear. “I’m sorry you had to go through all this.”

Erin stopped and turned to him. “Toby… can we sit down?”

He nodded and let her lead him to a nearby bench. When they sat side by side she slowly pushed back the sleeve of her cardigan to reveal her forearm. She turned it up so the wrist was exposed, and Obi-Wan could see a long, thin scar run from her wrist up to almost her elbow. He looked at the scar, then at her pale face, and she nodded.

Obi-Wan reached out and traced the scar carefully with his fingers. “Is it…”

“Yes. I was fifteen. You were thirteen. It was the Easter holidays, so we were both home from boarding school. You found me in the bathroom one morning, I’d slit both my wrists and was slowly bleeding to death.” Her voice was harsh, almost dry. “You called the ambulance and sat with me until they came. All the while you murmured, ‘I’m sorry’. I was in the hospital for a long time afterward, and you came to visit me every chance you had. Every time, you apologised for not being in time to stop me.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked down at his hand, still resting on her arm.

“I tried to kill myself four times from the age of fifteen to twenty-five, and every time, you were there to pick up the fucking pieces.” She turned to him and made him meet her eyes. “Never apologise to me for being sick, Toby. Never, do you hear me?”

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded.

Erin dropped her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

Obi-Wan smiled and readjusted her sleeve before taking her hand. “No apologies. Right?”

She looked back up and smiled. “Right.”

“So why do I call him the Major all the time in my diaries?”

They were lounging on the bench in the winter sun, and Obi-Wan finally got round to asking some of the questions he’d never dared to ask before.

“Because he used to be a Major in the Army when we were kids. And because he treated us more like cadets than children.”

“He was here to visit me last week. He and our mother. Did they tell you that?”

Erin nodded. “Yes. That’s why I’m here, really. The Major said you were up to your usual eccentricities and I shouldn’t bother to come here, even warned me. Told me I might ‘catch it’ again from you. God, he drives me up a wall sometimes!”

Obi-Wan contemplated his next question for a while. “Why was he so angry with me?”

Erin snorted. “Well, because you’re not little Major, that’s why. Because you dared to be your own person. He didn’t get the children he expected to have, you know. We weren’t the happy, healthy, pretty, strong, upstanding, disciplined little recruits he wanted. I was sick all the time as a child and you…” she smiled warmly at him, “You were a dreamer. You liked to draw more than you liked to run. You read at school level when you were five, but you couldn’t catch a ball. He sent you to up to a military academy when you were 10. You were so miserable there.”

“What about our mother? Why didn’t she do something?”

Erin scoffed. “Mum? She’d never contradict the Major. She’s been brought up to be the perfect little wife. Tried to do the same to me. ‘Smile, Erica.’ ‘Sit up straight, Erica’ ‘Now don’t you cry, Erica. A lady doesn’t cry. A lady doesn’t have a reason to cry. A lady is always happy.’ Yeah, well, I wasn’t a success as a lady. I cried and I laughed and I scraped my knees and I had depressions and I tried to kill myself when I wad fifteen just to shut her up for two minutes.”

Obi-Wan put an arm around her shoulder, a purely instinctive gesture. „And how did they react when you… you know…”

Erin snuggled closer to him and continued to speak, “Well, the Major was shocked of course. His daughter tried to kill herself. His daughter. He screamed and raged and blamed everyone except himself. He even blamed you. Told you it was your job to look after me, and why had you allowed me to do such a thing. I cried for two days when you told me. You were the only person who ever listened to me back then. If not for you, I’d have tried it sooner.”

She turned to him, unshed tears in her eyes. “You see the Major doesn’t take to kindly to failure, or what he perceives as such. And in his eyes, you were a failure. His failure as a father, your own failure as a person. He never saw us, or treated us for that matter, as anything else than pathetic losers taking away valuable breathing space for people who can succeed in the world. That’s why he’s angry with you, Toby. Because in everything you are, he sees something he did wrong. When you refused to go back to military academy, he almost strangled you. When he saw your first story in print, he threatened to disown you, and when you told him you’re gay, he did disown you. He only wanted to be known as your father again when you got a three-book deal and a book signing at Waterstone’s.”

She broke off and chuckled. “Listen to me go on and on about him. One would think I’m talking about my parental issues enough with my therapist. ”

Obi-Wan smiled back at her. “They’re my parental issues too, after all, even if I don’t really remember them.”

Erin’s smile faded. “Does nothing I told you ring a bell?”

Obi-Wan distantly remembered a dream he’d had just before Qui-Gon had woken him up at the Healer’s Ward, a dream about the Major and himself not wanting to return to a place where they stole his notebooks and beat him up. “It’s all very vague and very confusing, Erin. I don’t know what I remember anymore. When I’m here everything seems perfectly real, but when I’m…back…there… it seems real too. The only thing everyone seems to agree on is that I’m hallucinating, but I really don’t know what to believe anymore. I try not to ask the question most of the time.”

Erin nodded, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I think I understand. I promise not to ask you, then, all right?”

“Thank you.”

For a while, they sat in silence, Erin’s head on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan let his eyes wander to Quincy, who sat a few benches away and watched them quietly. He smiled at the man, and Quincy returned the smile warmly.

“He’s going to catch a cold. Don’t you think we should go back in?” Erin asked, sleepily.

“He’s resilient. But what about you?”

He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. “I’d like to stay here for a while longer, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It does get kind of lonely around here. Well, except for Quincy, of course.”

Obi-Wan more heard than saw her smile. “He’s a nice man. I like him.”

“Me too.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“And have you seen his arse? How did a doctor get such a piece of work?”

“Erin!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, shocked. Not that he hadn’t asked himself the same question, but still…

“What? What’s a gay brother for if you can’t check out arses with him?”

Obi-Wan had to laugh, in spite of himself. “You know, if I could remember you, I would have missed you terribly.”

Erin’s smile faded somewhat. “I missed you too, Toby.”

They sat in silence for a while, then Obi-Wan asked her to tell him more stories about their childhood. She did so, but stuck with the funny or nice ones, obviously avoiding the ‘parental issues’.

The longer he listened to her, the more Obi-Wan liked her. He felt genuinely relaxed with her, liked the way she snuggled against him, even found the way she rubbed her arms and drew her cardigan closer around herself endearingly familiar. Something about her reminded him of Bant, from the way she laid her head on his shoulder down to the necklace she wore, a fish carved from red coral. Maybe he had taken her as a model for Bant, the way that Quincy had been the model for Qui-Gon. And maybe he was thinking too much again, for his head started to hurt.

He rubbed his temple, and Erin stopped talking mid-sentence, interrupting the story she was just telling him about their attempt to capture the Loch Ness monster on a camping holiday near Inverness. “Are you feeling all right?”

He nodded. “Just a small headache.”

Erin raised her eyebrows. “Maybe it’s better if we go inside again. I think I’ve stayed long enough for my first visit.”

She rose from the bench and waved Dr. Quincy over.

Quincy came immediately. “What is it?”

Erin pointed at him. “He has a headache.”

Quincy nodded. “Maybe you should go now and let him rest. He’s just had a rather exhausting episode only two days ago, and I don’t want him to slip over again right now.”

“Of course. I’ll just help your bring him back and then I’ll leave.”

Obi-Wan sighed. If only his head didn’t hurt so much. “Hello! He’s here, he can hear every word you’re saying. Now stop talking about me as if I wasn’t there and help me up.”

Quincy and Erin both flinched and apologised, then they helped him back to his room, where he collapsed on the bed gratefully. He was dizzy and his vision was blurry once again. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but the pounding in his head while he listened to Dr. Quincy and Erin talking.

“Can I come again?”

“Of course. I don’t see any reason why not. Call me first, though, all right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise. Right, I think he’s dropping off, I’ll go now.”

“Take care of yourself…. Need anything….call…. and come back soon.”

The voices were a blur now, but Obi-Wan could hear a whisper, clear as a bell, “Padawan!”. He sat up so abruptly that Quincy and Erin started.

“What? Toby, is everything all right?” Quincy asked, concerned.

Obi-Wan looked around with wide eyes, but didn’t answer.

“Toby. What is it?”

Erin. She must be worried. Obi-Wan focused on her, trying to block out the headache, cursing the absence of the Force in this ‘dimension’ or whatever it was for the millionth time. He managed to wave away her concern. “I’m all right. It was just a dizzy spell. I’m fine, really.”

Erin looked unconvinced, but he stared down any questions she might have, so she just leaned down and kissed him softly on the forehead. “Take care of yourself, Toby.”

He smiled weakly. “I’ll try.”

With a last wave goodbye, she left.

Quincy closed the door behind her and Obi-Wan collapsed back on the bed, making a grateful noise when Quincy started to pull off his shoes.

“Toby?”

“Hm? Yeah?” he didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“When you were… back…, did you… see me?” hesitant, almost shy.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Quincy, who steadfastly looked down at the laces of Obi-Wan’s shoes. He swallowed before answering. “Yes.”

Quincy looked up briefly before the fascinating conundrum of Obi-Wan’s shoes captured his attention once again. “And did you… see… Qui-Gon… just now?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “No. But I thought I heard him calling.”

Quincy didn’t answer, he just pulled off Obi-Wan’s second shoe. Then he finally looked up at Obi-Wan. “And how did that make you feel?”

Force, he hated that question. He was too tired to think about that, had too much of a headache to contemplate questions he didn’t particularly like when he was awake enough to formulate a coherent reply. He draped his arm over his aching eyes.

How had he felt when he’d heard the call? He remembered the moment and the complicated cocktail of emotions were too much to describe, but it all came down to this one fact. “Tired. Very tired.”

“Sleep, then.”

Force, the man sounded so much like Qui-Gon had a thousand times before when Obi-Wan was sick or hurt or just dead tired from the strain of being Jedi all day, and he’d never had any trouble doing what that warm voice ordered him, so he let himself drop off to sleep with a grateful sigh.

April 4th
Damn. Damn. Damn. Where did I leave that notebook? Where the fuck did I leave that notebook? All my notes for the new book are in there.

I got this fantastic idea yesterday over lunch and wrote it all down in that small black notebook Erin gave me for Christmas. The one that fits in the back pocket of my jeans. I came home, took it out and put it… where? Damn.

I guess I’ll better write down what I remember of it now.

Ok, it’s Sci-Fi meets all the best of fantasy. There’s this young guy, and he belongs to some mystical Order of warrior monks. (Think Church Militant meets Shaolin)

The warrior monks have special abilities, they’ve found the secrets of the force that controls all life in the universe, and they use it for good. Naturally, there will have to be some who use it for evil. The young Knight (must think of a name) and his companions (must think of companions) fight to protect the Republic (think old Rome, corruption and maybe even a coup d’etat by a “Caesar” figure) from its enemies (the bad guys using the force that holds the universe together… let’s call it the Force until I think of something better).

Anyway, so our young Knight has a destiny. He’s the key to the whole fucking fate of the ‘Force’. Or better yet, he finds the key. Carries the key. He’s the main character, though. Maybe it’s all pre-ordained and he has to watch while the whole galaxy around him goes up in flames and nothing he does makes any difference, he thinks, until he finds out that actually what he did made all the difference. Have to think about it.

Haven’t thought up any details yet but I’ll think about it some more.

Damn. Robert’s come home. Insists on crashing with me while his flat gets repainted. Wish I hadn’t given him the key to my place, though. I wonder what that says about our relationship. Though maybe he’ll put out again now that he practically lives here. If I find out he took my notebook, though, he’s toast. And if he snores again, I’ll sleep in the living room.

April 17th
Main character’s name will be Obi-Wan. Have thought up some back-story for him. Must spend a lot of time and room in the book to develop the Order and the Republic as a system, or nobody will understand a word of what’s happening. I think I’ll call the good guys Jedi. I remember a cereal that had a similar name when we were kids. Must ask Erin what the name was exactly.

Obi-Wan slammed the book shut. Damn.

“Do I have to continue reading this?” he asked Quincy, who was sitting in the chair next to his bed and looked at him with the patient expression Obi-Wan hated to have turned on him when he wasn’t in the mood to do what the man wanted.

“Yes. It’s important for you that you understand why you are here. I think you’ve avoided facing this long enough now.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Is this really necessary?”

Quincy pinched his nose. “Do we have to go through this again? You asked me why you’re here and I told you if you want to know you’ll have to read the diaries, even the parts that upset you. I can imagine that it makes you uncomfortable to read about the creation of your ‘other existence’, but it’s an important step for you. So please just continue reading.”

Grumbling, Obi-Wan went back to the entry.

Plot will be fairly simple, have to create the universe and the setting first, though. It’s been a long time that I was so enthusiastic about a project.

Had lunch with Tom yesterday, told me “Suspects” will be published end of the month. He showed me some advance reviews, all rather good. Very good for my ego. Robert looked at them and said it was exactly what journalists said about Sic-fi authors who had potential for ‘more’. Asked him what exactly ‘more’ should be. Got a blank stare as an answer and then he said, “Did you bring the Ravioli?”, and changed the subject to what we were supposed to cook for dinner. . Subtle, anyone?

Yeah, he still stays here. His builders aren’t finished with his flat yet. I know exactly why I don’t keep live-in lovers. He makes a mess everywhere. He used my toothpaste. And he did take my notebook. Thought I’d strangle him. Only thing that saved us from violence is that he gave it back undamaged, he only used it to tear out a sheet to write down some damn phone number. Huge crisis averted, small one coming when I felt my migraine hit again.

Fuck. Bet Jedi Knights don’t have to deal with this shit.

April 23rd
Coruscant. Nice name, isn’t it? Erin came up with it. Showed her the notes for the new novel. She really liked the idea. Helped me develop a few alien races, too. Head tails and big frog-like creatures. Had tons of fun with her over it. Think maybe I’ll have a fish-race too, just for her.

In other news, talked to grandpa today, about Robert and the new novel and lots of stuff. He said, and I quote, “Toby, difficult to get what you want, never was. Difficult to keep it and still want it, that’s the art of life.” How is it possible to be so incredibly wise and still retain the ability to mangle the English language almost beyond recognition? I mean I know it’s not his native language, but he’s lived in bloody Birmingham for 56 years now. Granted, it’s Birmingham, and their grasp on the English language isn’t that stellar, but still…

Anyway. No matter how bad his syntax gets, I still love him. He was the only one in our family who ever treated us like the people we were, not the people he wanted us to be.

Just had an epiphany: maybe Obi-Wan could have a mentor. A teacher, sort of like a master of the crafts. Maybe the Jedi pass on their knowledge one-on-one. I’m having a terrible ‘Name of the Rose’ moment here, but that could work. Of course, Obi-Wan’s better looking than Christian Slater. Doesn’t wear that outfit either. Must give this some thought.

May 7th
Have started to take notes on Obi-Wan’s life. Decided to model his Master a bit after grandpa. Small man, wrinkly, uncertain grasp on grammar, very wise, very patient. Type grandpa meets the Master from Kung Fu. Hang on a sec, phone.

Fuck. Was the Major. Insists I come to visit next weekend when the family descends on the compound for the yearly Larson family get-together. Really don’t want to go. Tried to find out tactfully if Erin had already said yes, but got yelled at. Once in a while, I could get off my indolent lazy writer’s arse and do something for the family! Said I’ll keep my lazy writer arse in London if he continues to talk to me like that. He hung up.

Damn. Phone again. Will be mum with the guilt trip.

Yep, I was right. It was mum, and she did lay the guilt trip on me. Fuck.

Speaking of which, Robert actually deemed to touch me last night. Must have been watching ‘The Pillow Book”; he finds that film very erotic. Was reminded forcefully why enduring him is occasionally worth it. Seduction. Mmmh.

Anyway. Will go back to Obi-Wan right now. Kept thinking that Jedi must come to the Temple at a very young age, so they don’t have parents.

May 17th
Have tried out writing a few pages of actual fiction from Obi-Wan’s perspective and was surprised how easy it was. It flowed. He writes himself really well. I like him. He’s strong, honest and completely dedicated to his vocation, his calling, without any emotional entanglements to get in his way. Jedi live for the Force. Everything else is secondary.

I was at the parents’ over the weekend. Ranged from terribly boring to plain terrible. I forgot how much I hate sleeping in that room. I always feel like a fucking prisoner. I still remember the one time I was so afraid I couldn’t get out of bed, so the Major had to come in and drag me out of it so I wouldn’t miss my train.

Obi-Wan closed the book once more, this time slowly. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

“What?” Quincy asked, looking concerned.

Obi-Wan sighed, long and deeply. “I… last time I was… you know… back, I had a dream. Turns out what I dreamed is pretty much identical to what happened to Toby at one point.”

Quincy seemed pleased. “But that’s good, isn’t it? It means you’re starting to remember.”

Obi-Wan ran his hands through his hair and said nothing. Quincy wouldn’t want to hear that he really didn’t want these memories. Especially if they were like the one he’d experienced in the dream. He avoided Quincy’s questioning gaze and continued to read.

Had a nightmare where I watched Obi-Wan fight a thing with horns and lots of black clothing. Woke up drenched in sweat and spent the rest of the night writing something from Obi-Wan’s youth to dispel the image. Didn’t work entirely.

All in all, the only good thing about the weekend was seeing grandpa and Erin.

Robert finally moved back to his flat this morning. Thank god. He’ll be back though tonight, insisted to take me out to dinner. Well, it’s been a long time, so no complaints here. Right, will get some proofreading on “Suspects” done before he picks me up. He even picks me up. Almost makes me suspicious.

Later, much, much later, probably the 18th already.

Bastard. Fucking bastard. 2 years, and what does he do? Takes me out to dinner and breaks up with me in a restaurant, the chicken-shit arsehole. Gave me the usual, “You’re a great guy and I really love you, but we don’t have a future together, we’re too different, we’ve grown apart as people, we have different goals in life, insert meaningless platitude here.”

Fucker.

Worst thing is, I know he’s right. Have known for a very long time. But still, he was the hottest arse in London, and he was mine. And he wanted me. Badly. At some point at least. I really shouldn’t be surprised that he found someone else to fuck. It was only a matter of time until he got bored with me. Loved me. Yeah, right, you wanker. Like you would. Like anyone would bother.

Obi-Wan swallowed back the lump in his throat and closed the book again. He laid it on the bedside table, then leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, trying to calm his beating heart and his ragged breathing.

He’d felt that. Too close to home. Why would anyone bother to love him. Raw emotion, screaming at him from the pages of the diary, words he felt echo and strike something deep within.

No. Please leave, he whispered silently. Please, please leave.

“Toby?”

He opened his eyes again to look at Quincy, who regarded him with badly hidden compassion.

“Is that why I’m…he’s … is that why I’m here?”

“Is what why you’re here?”

Obi-Wan reached for the book, found the entry and handed it to Quincy. A part of him cringed at the thought of the man reading the diary, but he told it to be quiet, after all, Quincy knew so much about him already, what difference did it make.

Quincy read the entry in silence, then put the book down with a sigh. “Well… it’s a part of it.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. He was sick of that. “Part of it. Tell me all of it. Don’t hold back on me because you think I can’t handle it. Tell me why I’m here and why all this is happening. Explain it to me. You are my doctor, after all.”

“All right. But you must remember that psychology isn’t an exact science.”

Obi-Wan nodded and gestured for Quincy to continue.

Quincy leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re here because of one reason. You didn’t want to be Toby Larson anymore. All your life, people told you that you’re not good enough, a loser, worthless, and deep inside, a part of you believed it. When you created Obi-Wan, you started to pour all the qualities you thought would make you a better person into this character. In essence, you created a better you. One who didn’t have parents, but a loving and patient mentor, one who had a defined, clear purpose in life and a solid belief structure that didn’t leave any room for doubt. You created a Galaxy where this better you did good, travelled from planet to planet to help the helpless, to save the innocent from injustice. It was alluring, bewitchingly easy. No parental issues. No problems with interpersonal relationships. The mission, the Force, the Jedi, that was important, not your feelings. Serenity. No asking whether people loved you, of course they did, you were Obi-Wan Kenobi, and who wouldn’t love this creature of light. Additionally, you created a parental figure you were allowed to love and who loved you back, unconditionally.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t meet Quincy’s eyes any longer. He looked down, fighting tears. All this rang too true for him on a deep, purely emotional level to deny it.

“The point is, Toby, you were wrong.”

Obi-Wan looked up. “About what?”

Quincy smiled a small, sad smile. “You can’t run away from your problems. They will always haunt you. And you were wrong to think that Obi-Wan is the better you. Because he IS you. There’s no difference between the two of you, you are both strong, kind, loving, with an inert sense of justice and a freedom of spirit I’ve encountered in only a handful of people before. You see, you couldn’t give Obi-Wan anything you didn’t already have inside you.”

Obi-Wan’s tears flowed freely now. “I’d like to be alone now, please,” he whispered.

Quincy nodded. “Just call me when you need me.”

“Thank you.”

Quincy sighed and reached out as if to touch him, but let his hand fall down again. “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, voice thick with suppressed emotion.

Obi-Wan waited until he was out of the door, then lay down on his bed, hugging his pillow to his chest, letting his tears wet the fabric under his hot cheeks.

He tried to stem the flood of emotions and images that came to him unbidden, a hundred situations where he’d helped and rescued and fought and laughed and raged and feared and felt one with the Force and meditated and loved, loved, loved, and all that whirled around him. Had all been a lie? Had everything he’d felt been an illusion, born out of his own desire to be somebody else? Would he, could he ever live with that knowledge?

What if he could never go back now that he felt he knew, what if he was stuck here forever in this cold place with no Qui-Gon? Sure, there was Quincy, but he didn’t love Obi-Wan, though sometimes he could almost believe… no, he didn’t love Obi-Wan, could not love him like Qui-Gon did, not with that unconditional warmth Obi-Wan craved more than anything else.

He let himself drift for a long time, riding out the storm of confusion in his mind, letting the emotions wash through him until only calm remained. It took him a long time, the afternoon waned to night, but when the nurse came with his dinner, he was composed enough to eat it.

He took his medication and afterwards he sat down at the writing desk again.

Your focus determines your reality.

He picked up the pen with shaking hands and took a deep breath. He didn’t care anymore what was real and what wasn’t, all he wanted now was a safe harbour, a warm place, somewhere he could feel loved.

He put the tip of the pen to the paper and started to write.

Obi-Wan’s vision started to blur. The headache was back, but this time he welcomed it, abandoned himself to it, and the last sound he heard was the scratching of the pen against paper before…“Padawan?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and threw himself into the warmth of Qui-Gon Jinn’s waiting arms, letting the Force and the mere presence of his Master banish all thoughts of reality and illusion as he was cradled by the warm strength of Qui-Gon’s love for him.

He burrowed deeper into the embrace holding him tightly and, finally surrendering the iron grip on consciousness, allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

Awakening was painful. Cold. No arms around him. No warmth to lean on. No Force. No Qui-Gon. Just emptiness, coldness, cold sweat clinging to his brow, cold fear churning his stomach, cold despair he could taste on his tongue when he bit his lip until it bled, too afraid to open his eyes.

When he did finally pry open his eyes, almost dried shut with salt from tears he couldn’t remember crying, he wasn’t surprised. Only deeply, deeply tired. The absence of Qui-Gon’s warmth with him in the bed was an almost physical hurt.

He shouldn’t have gone to sleep. Should have stayed awake, there, in the other moment, where he’d felt safe and loved and not half-mad with confusion and leftover emotions from two lifetimes to work over in his mind until there was nothing there but raw human being reduced to the essentials of identity.

Please just let me sleep, he whispered to himself. He was so incredibly tired.

But he couldn’t sleep. His eyes itched. His hair itched with dried sweat. His body was sticky and he had to use the bathroom anyway.

He crossed the room to the bathroom, never bothering with robe or slippers. He relieved himself and then went over to the basin to wash his hands and face.

He scrubbed at his eyes and lifted his head up when he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Longish, reddish hair. Pale face. Eyes more green than blue. Freckles, much more than he’d remembered. No Padawan braid. Sloppy haircut. Maybe no haircut at all for a long time. Stubble. No razor here anywhere. Sloppy. Sickly. Pale. Wimp. Lunatic. Toby.

With a soul-deep howl, he crashed his fists against the mirror. Again. Again. He didn’t feel the glass cut into his fists, palms, fingers, he didn’t see the blood running down his hands, he just sobbed and crashed his fists against the mirror, against the fear and the pain and the confusion, against Toby Larson and his fear and anger and confusion, the image into hundreds of smaller ones and shattering them until there was nothing but raw pain in his hands and arms and a million splinters of glass on the floor, and him in the middle, kneeling and crying and bleeding on the floor, and holding up his bloody hands for the nurse who came barging in to see, whispering, “Is this real?” over and over again until he blissfully passed out.

He drifted. Not that he couldn’t wake up if he really wanted to. The sedative had worn off quite some time ago. But waking up took effort. He didn’t have any effort left. Or anything else for that matter. Lying there, drifting, seemed too much at times, but there wasn’t much he could do besides that.

Voices. Concerned voices. Who were they concerned for? Him?

Hands, lifting his head, shining a light into his eyes. “Toby?”

Was that him? Whatever. Drift.

“Damn. He hasn’t gone over, but he doesn’t respond to anything.” Quincy. He felt a vague flash of sympathy for the man. He sounded so defeated.

“What’s your next step, John?”

Clinical, other doctor voice. He remembered that other doctor. Mace Windu. Wait, that wasn’t it. Mace Windu wasn’t a doctor. Or was he?

A sigh from Quincy. “Terminate treatment with the new drug until we’ve found a way to stabilise him.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“Look at him, Richard! He’s practically catatonic! He’s being pulled into two directions, the drug is keeping him here while his mind obviously wants to go back off into his fantasy world.”

“I can see that. The only question is, if we let him go back now, will he ever surface again?”

Another bone-deep sigh from Quincy. “I don’t know. But we can’t continue like this. He’d go over the edge and we’d lose him altogether.”

“That might happen in any case. You should prepare yourself for the eventuality that he might be a lost cause.”

Pause, in which he dimly wondered why his hands hurt so much.

Then the other doctor again. “John, you look terrible. I want you to go home and get some sleep.” Pause. Continued more quietly. “I’m worried about you. Worried that you’ve lost your professional distance. Maybe you’re too emotionally involved.”

“What are you saying?”

Oh. Master’s angry. Wait, isn’t Master. Quincy.

“I've thought about assigning someone else to this case.”

“You can’t. It took me ages to get him to trust or even listen to me. You’d ruin all the work he has already done. Just give him some time. Right now he doesn’t want to deal with the ramifications of what he’s learned, but the seed of doubt is there. I know. I saw it in his eyes.”

“You’re probably right. But see to it that you get some sleep. And give me a progress report every other day.”

“Thank you, Richard.”

Door closing. Creaking of the bed as Quincy sat on it, beside him. Hands in his hair, soothing it back from his forehead. Nice. Relaxing. Maybe he could sleep again.

Another one of these bone-deep sighs and he was almost tempted to open his eyes, but it was too much of an effort. He contented himself with thinking to open his eyes. They always said it was the thought that counted, after all.

Hands lifting up his own, bandaged, aching ones. Fingers caressed his unhurt knuckles, voice whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He relaxed further. The calming presence by his side shifted and he felt a brief run of fingers through his hair and a hand on his head. “Sleep now.”

Wonderful idea. Sleep.

He let himself fall, fall, fall, and somewhere in the dark he landed, soft bed, soft cushion, soft warmth wrapped around him, arms holding him, and somewhere between the Force flowing back into the recesses of his mind and Qui-Gon’s mouth pressed to his forehead he found his name again, falling from Qui-Gon’s lips like a gift. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan. Yes. Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan smiled and fell asleep again.

~~…It was one in the afternoon and they were both hungry. The parents were at some fundraiser for homeless children in the Third World, classical Sunday brunch, and had left them to fend for themselves as usual.

Toby was a lousy cook, but they only had to warm the stew anyway. All he had to do was to watch the pot and stir it on occasion. So he did just that and resumed reading “Brave New World”.

He’d pinched that book from the school library. Nobody ever checked it out anyway and he wasn’t allowed to buy books like that when he went to the shops with his parents. ‘Bloody nutcase leftos’, the Major would say and take the book away from him. ‘On drugs, too, the whole bloody lot of them.’

What was that smell?

Oh, damn. He’d left the towel too near to the stove and it had caught fire. Mum would kill him. No, scratch that, the Major would kill him. He flung the book on the counter, grabbed a mug, ran over to the sink and filled it with water. Then he ran over to the fire again and tried to put it out with the water, but by now the book had caught fire too.

No, not ‘Brave New World’! He gripped the book but it burnt his fingers and it fell down, hitting his bare foot and burning his toes. They were going all blistered and red, but fortunately he remembered the water and emptied the mug over the fire, putting it out at last.

The towel was reduced to small coaly black fragments which glowed forebodingly, but the danger seemed to have passed for now. Toby noticed that his foot hurt. He sank to the floor to inspect his toes.

Didn’t look good at all. Maybe he would need a doctor. Well, for now he’d just put on shoes and try not to cry when it hurt too much. Maybe he wouldn’t get beaten if he kept the toes hidden.

He leaned against the cabinet behind him and started to cry. He had just grown fond of the book.

The room distorted and he was sitting on the floor of the bathroom in the hospital, in the middle of the shards of the mirror, and Quincy was standing over him, asking him, “Now what do you make of that image, Toby? Do you see yourself that way?”

And he wanted to answer of course he didn't, he was grown now and able to afford his own books when “Obi-Wan. Wake up. You’re dreaming again…”~~

Dream. Just a dream. His consciousness struggled against the images, and finally he managed to wake up, shivering, with the memory of tears lingering, tracing a pattern down his cheeks.

He opened his eyes and looked directly into Qui-Gon’s radiant blue ones. Breathing deeply, he managed to calm himself.

“Sorry…” he whispered. The nightmares were frequent and sleeping in a bed with him couldn’t be good for Qui-Gon’s sleep rhythm.

A finger was placed over his lips. “Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.”

Obi-Wan swallowed his arguments to the contrary. He knew it was idiotic to feel guilty for his nightmares, but he did. He felt guilty for still feeling out of step, surreal, for still holding his breath every time he closed his eyes, for still being afraid of looking into a mirror. Most of all he felt guilty for doubting. But Qui-Gon never held it against him. Never demanded explanations or indeed anything else.

Some of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face, for Qui-Gon smiled down on him and brushed his lips ever so lightly over Obi-Wan’s, whispering against them, “Live in the moment, Padawan.”

Too stunned to do anything but nod, he did just that.

Qui-Gon gripped his chin and looked into his eyes. “I know you’re confused, and scared, but you can’t let that control your life. You can’t go through life like this, expecting to wake up. You’re not dreaming anymore.”

Obi-Wan looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

Fingers carded through his hair and lips touched to his once more. “Did you ever dream about this?”

Obi-Wan blushed, blessing the darkness. “Yes. Frequently. In great detail.”

He felt Qui-Gon’s surprise over the bond. “Really? Frequently?”

Obi-Wan smiled at Qui-Gon’s tone, caught between startlement and pleasure. “Yes. When I told you… you know… in the Healer’s Ward, when I told you that I love you, I meant that.”

Now Obi-Wan cursed the darkness for it obscured Qui-Gon’s smile. “I know. And I love you too. Now go back to sleep.”

“You’ll be there when I wake up?”

“I promise. And we’ll speak further about some of these details.”

Obi-Wan smiled into another of these feather-light kisses. He liked this moment.

For the first time in weeks, it seemed, he had no trouble going to sleep again.

Obi-Wan blocked, jumped, spun and time slowed, then stilled as the image wavered and suddenly he was being pulled out of his own body and was standing at the sidelines, watching from outside as he and Qui-Gon fought on.

“Is this how you like to see yourself?” Quincy asked, standing next to him.

“It is what I am.”

They watched in silence for a while.

Lightsabres clashing, making their unique sizzling sound as the blades met. Spin, thrust, parry, slash, block. Shadows dancing through the room, in unison with the eerily silent battle.

Then “You know of course you’re fooling yourself. This is what you are.” Quincy indicated his clothing, and Obi-Wan noticed he was dressed in hospital pyjamas once more.

“Why do I continue seeing you?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Because you know now.”

“Know what?”

Quincy pulled out a mirror and held it in front of him. “That it’s not real.”

Obi-Wan blinked and looked into the mirror. Toby looked back. He glanced back at Quincy. “You’re the one who’s not real.”

“So sure, are we?”

Obi-Wan blinked and myriads of cracks appeared on the surface of the mirror, and the image cracked as well. Some of the shards now reflected Obi-Wan, the others Toby.

“Go away,” Obi-Wan whispered to Quincy.

“As you wish.” The mirror fell to the floor as Quincy disappeared and Obi-Wan was left with the two fighting figures, the graceful warriors engaged in friendly combat.

He blinked once and the room cracked and shattered, leaving him alone in a twelve-year old’s bedroom where a boy looked at him with huge blue-green pleading eyes, asking him, “Did you come to take me away from here?”

Obi-Wan nodded, picked the child up and carried him out of the room, wrapped in his Jedi robe and watched as the child’s Padawan braid grew long, so long. He took the boy by the hand and they entered a bathroom and the floor was full of blood, so much blood and it made Erin’s hair stick to the floor where the blood had pooled and the boy screamed…~~ and Obi-Wan woke up, drenched in sweat, heart beating like he’d run ten laps in the Temple garden.

He was so sick of it. Sick of the vision-like nightmares, the apparitions while he was awake, the constant nagging question in the back of his mind. ‘Is this real?’

The other half of the bed was empty. He’d gone to bed very early and had obviously not slept for long because Qui-Gon had not yet turned in. Obi-Wan sighed. He was sick of his neediness too, but he had to be with Qui-Gon now.

Still half-asleep and still shivering, he went out into the common room where Qui-Gon was reclining on the couch, watching a holovid. When he entered, Qui-Gon looked up and shifted over, making room for Obi-Wan on the couch, opening his arms. It was an invitation Obi-Wan wasn’t about to refuse, and a moment later, he was snuggled in Qui-Gon’s arms on the couch.

“Had another nightmare, Padawan?” Qui-Gon murmured into Obi-Wan’s hair.

Obi-Wan nodded, his face buried in Qui-Gon’s chest. A heaving sob shook his frame and Qui-Gon’s hands went to his back, rubbing his tense muscles.

“Bad one?”

Another nod. A heavy sigh heaved the chest he was lying on and Obi-Wan lifted his head to look at Qui-Gon, astonished to see the man blinking back tears. “Master?” he whispered.

“It hurts me to see you suffer like this. I wish I could do something to help you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head in wonder. “But you are helping me. Being with you alone helps me so much. Knowing that you are there is the one thing that keeps me from going completely insane.”

As if to lend weight to his words, he leaned down and kissed Qui-Gon. Softly, questing. Qui-Gon sighed into his mouth and returned the kiss with equal tenderness.

Smiling, Obi-Wan drew back and looked into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.”

Qui-Gon twined his fingers in Obi-Wan’s hair. “But it’s not a dream.” He brought Obi-Wan’s head down for another kiss, this one deeper, more passionate. By the time Qui-Gon released his lips, Obi-Wan was flushed and breathless.

Qui-Gon rolled them around while bracing them with the Force so they wouldn’t fall, and settled down on top of Obi-Wan, his long, muscular body pressing Obi-Wan into the couch. Over his shoulder, Obi-Wan could see the figure again in the corner, but then Qui-Gon’s lips were back on his, devouring any questions of reality from Obi-Wan’s mind. He moaned into the kiss and hooked one leg over Qui-Gon’s, grinding their bodies together.

Qui-Gon released his mouth only to attack his neck, whispering, “Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan.” In a husky voice that made Obi-Wan shiver.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“My Obi-Wan.”

Scraping teeth on his neck. Soothing tongue running over the sensitive patch of skin. “Is this real, my Obi-Wan? Do you believe this is real?”

“Yes!” he hissed as the shiver went down his spine directly into his groin and further into every cell of his body. ‘My Obi-Wan’. He looked into Qui-Gon’s eyes above him, glowing with love and affection.

“Say it. I need for you to say it.”

“I love you.” Again in this voice that was not quite a growl and Obi-Wan closed his eyes as a tear escaped.

With Qui-Gon’s lips at his throat and his words still in the air between them, Obi-Wan let go of his doubts. This was real. Ob-Wan. ‘My Obi-Wan’. He was loved, needed, cherished, there was someone who wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi in every way nobody had ever wanted Tobias Larson. And that alone was reason enough to believe. To choose to believe that this was real, not some cold, empty life where nobody gave a shit about him anyway.

“You’re wrong,” the figure in the corner whispered, and Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment until his attention was reclaimed by Qui-Gon, who took his chin into his hands to keep his head still. “Here and now, my Obi-Wan, I do not wish to share you.”

The tone in his voice, the look in his eyes were enough for Obi-Wan to dismiss any metaphysical questions into the ether, dismiss Quincy with a wave of his hand, and devote his entire attention to the here and now, letting himself fall, letting himself be loved by Qui-Gon Jinn.

Quincy sighed. “Why do you make things so difficult for yourself, Toby?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I don’t care. Just go away.”

Quincy looked at him sadly and dissolved.

Obi-Wan turned back to the mirror and smiled at himself. “Much better.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Healer. See you next week.” And then hopefully no more, he added in his thoughts as the door shut closed behind him. He liked her and all, but he wanted to get on with his life, and she kept bringing up things he’d rather not talk about.

“Is that why you’re lying to her?” Quincy was leaning next to the door of Hethra’s office.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Tell me, Toby, is lying to her so easy because you know she’s not there anyway?”

Obi-Wan started to walk down the corridor, and Quincy fell into step beside him. “I refuse to argue the ethics of truth with a figment of my imagination.”

Quincy went on with his train of thought, undisturbed by Obi-Wan’s comment. “Of course, lying to someone you only made up anyway, it’s almost like lying to yourself, and we know that’s something you’re really good at, isn’t it?”

“Go away.” Obi-Wan ground out between clenched teeth. “Leave me alone.” He took a look around, but there was nobody in the corridor with him, and even if there had been, Jedi were too accustomed to telepathy to wonder if anyone spoke with thin air.

“You know I can’t do that.” Quincy’s voice was heavy with sadness.

Obi-Wan looked at the spectre of the man from the side, yet avoided meeting his eyes. “I know,” he whispered.

They were approaching the more populated mess hall area and Quincy sighed. “I’ll leave you now. Just remember, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Obi-Wan stopped and met Quincy’s sad eyes for the first time this day. “I know.”

Quincy dissolved with a last nod, and for a while, Obi-Wan just stood there and stared at the spot his own personal ‘apparition’ had just vacated.

A hand on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts and he turned to see Bant standing there, smiling at him. He smiled back, involuntarily reminded of the way the sun shone on a red coral necklace. He had to shake himself inwardly to listen to what she was saying.

“When you’re finished staring into thin air, can we go have some lunch? I’m starving.”

“Sorry. Let’s go in. I just hope Reeft left some of the food for us.”

She giggled and Obi-Wan’s smile deepened at the sound. He draped his arm around her shoulder and they went to lunch.

~~The sky was marvellously blue, not a cloud in sight, the sun was shining, warming Obi-Wan quite efficiently. A light breeze curled the surface of the lake on occasion, but other than that, it was almost eerily quiet. He went down to the small pier, where he saw him sitting, bare to the waist, no shoes, feet dangling in the water. When he set foot on the wooden planks, he turned around and spoke to him. Blue-green eyes met his.

“Hello. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Where are we?” he asked, sitting down next to the other one.

“Don’t you remember? We came here a lot as children. We used to like it here.”

“Grandpa.”

Toby nodded. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “What are we doing here?”

Toby shrugged. “I’m not sure. Ask him.” He pointed at a reflection in the water of the lake, but it wasn’t their reflection, it was a red and black- skinned Zabrakian, wielding a double-bladed lightsabre.

“What is this?”

Toby stared at the water. “Something I saw a long time ago.”

Obi-Wan watched as the wind curled the water again and the image changed, and now he saw himself and Qui-Gon fighting the Zabrakian. Then something hazy and red obscured his view and the image faded as quickly as it had appeared.

Obi-Wan looked around to Toby, but he was alone on the pier, his bare feet dangling in the water, the sun on his bare back.

“Does it have to be so?” Quincy asked, standing behind him.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He doesn’t know. Does anyone?”

“It’s your story,” Quincy answered.

Toby watched the birds touch the surface of the lake, causing millions of small, random ripples on the water. He had always loved to throw rocks into the lake when he was a child. Make your own ripples, Grandpa said and handed him a rock.

I don’t know how to throw anymore.
Yes you do.
Show me?
Need me for that, you do not. Never have.
Thank you for the rock.
Careful now not to break anything you don’t want broken.
I’ll remember that…~~

Obi-Wan woke with a sigh. What the Sith was that all about?

He shrugged. Whatever. He had better things to do than worry about weird dreams. It was already late morning and he had an appointment at the Healer’s for his last check-up. Hethra had already given him a clean bill of mental health last week and today Healer Tovi would decide whether he was fit to return to the duty roster or not.

He smiled when he heard Qui-Gon enter their quarters. His smile widened when he heard his Master move directly towards the bedroom.

The door swished open, and Qui-Gon smiled at him, pleased he was awake. He brandished a data pad, and Obi-Wan sat up, feeling hope stir. “Is it what I think it is?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Mission briefing at seventh hour, assuming Healer Tovi gives you a clean bill of health.”

Obi-Wan grabbed the data pad from Qui-Gon and skimmed over the mission outline. “Doesn’t sound overly exciting. Classic ‘welcome back, might be a little rusty’ mission.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Precisely. Now move your devastating backside, you’ll be late.”

Obi-Wan grinned and made his way to the ‘fresher. He scratched his head in contemplation. “Qui-Gon, where exactly is this planet Naboo?”

They reached the bongo and Jar Jar got in first, then Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan checked the hull and the propulsion system.

“What is it with you and fish-creatures?” Quincy asked, leaning against the hull of the bongo.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’d like to know that myself,” he whispered. Then he turned to Quincy and made a shooing motion. “Go away. Can’t you see that I’m at work?”

Quincy chuckled. “Yeah, and I’m playing golf.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Can we philosophise about this later? I’m busy.”

“All right there, Padawan?” Qui-Gon called from inside the vessel.

“Yes, Master. Surface inspection shows nothing. I’ve checked it with the Force and it seems to be all right.”

Quincy was gone when he turned his attention back to the spot at the hull where he had leaned. He shrugged and got into the bongo.

Qui-Gon greeted him with a smile. “Were you grumbling again or did you talk to the ship?”

Obi-Wan forced a smile in return. “I was trying to convince the ship that it doesn’t want to fail us.”

Sith. He hated lying to Qui-Gon. Hated it with a passion. And Qui-Gon knew he was hiding something, he could tell by the look in his Master’s eyes.

/Are you all right, my Obi-Wan? /

Oh, the concern in that loving voice. /I… can we talk about this later? / He had to tell Qui-Gon the truth. But now they had a Queen to warn and a war to take care of.

/You’re right. We’ll talk about it on our way back to Coruscant. /

“Padawan, do you think you can fly this thing?”

Obi-Wan nodded, his concentration already on the controls. “I hope so, Master.” He released all his concerns into the Force and focused on flying this weird contraption. They would talk about it later. Assuming they didn’t drown. The way his day was going, he wouldn’t take any bets on what was more likely.

~~ The curtain of red energy obscured his view of the image beyond. He could dimly see two figures fighting, could see flashes of green and intense red, but nothing concrete, nothing clear. The wind curled over the water again and the image changed, the red haze was gone and now he could see… writing? Lined pages, blue ink, a neat script. He couldn’t make out words, but he had the feeling it was important that he did, but it wasn’t made easier by the fact that while he was looking at the page, more words appeared…

Balance. That’s the key. The Force is out of balance and the little one, whatshisname, oh right, Anakin, is the one who can bring balance back to it. Must think of how one does that. Bring balance, that is. Chosen One. There will probably be a prophecy.

“You and your messiah complex,” Erin said with a smile.

Quincy shook his head. “And always we come back to this.”

He lifted a hand and the scene changed. The curtain of red energy was back, but now it lifted and Obi-Wan saw the dark figure with the red lightsabre, he was standing over the dead body of his Master and Obi-Wan screamed, ~~~ “Noooo!”

“Obi-Wan! What is it?”

Qui-Gon’s voice. Qui-Gon. Alive. In the bed here with him. Still on the transport to Coruscant. He threw his arms around Qui-Gon’s neck and held on tightly. “It won’t happen. I won’t allow it to harm you,” he whispered, frantic.

“Shhh, it’s all right, love, it was just a dream.”

“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan half-sobbed, and Qui-Gon did, gently at first, and when Obi-Wan pulled him down with his hands at the back of Qui-Gon’s head, more passionately until the heat between them had driven out the lingering cold from Obi-Wan’s nightmare.

She patted his knee in a motherly fashion and left him alone.

“Doctors. The same everywhere. Prod you, poke you, send you home with a lollipop.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Oh no, not you. Not now.”

“Your dream last night made for interesting reading. What do you think you saw?” Quincy asked, sitting down in a chair opposite Obi-Wan.

“You’re the shrink, you tell me,” Obi-Wan growled.

Quincy sighed. “You know it as well as I do, Toby. You know what will happen, and a part of you is already rebelling against it. The question is, are you really going to let yourself go through it?”

Obi-Wan scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got much of a choice.”

“You have every choice. It’s your story.”

“If I have control here, then why do I still see you?” Obi-Wan asked, more than a bit irritated.

“Because a part of you wants me here.”

“Where is ‘here’, exactly?”

Quincy smiled. “Right here. Sitting next to you while you write. You know, sometimes it almost feels like talking to you, even if I can only read your replies. Comes in a distant second to hearing your voice, though.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. The bastard always managed to make him feel sorry for his rudeness. He looked up again, meeting Quincy’s blue, blue Qui-Gon eyes. “Leave. Please, please leave. You’re only making it worse.”

Quincy sighed. “You always pick the hard way, don’t you, Toby?”

Obi-Wan blinked and he was gone. He slumped back onto the examining bed with a heavy sigh, draping his arm over his eyes. He was so incredibly tired of this whole Sithspit.

“Padawan? Are you all right?”

Qui-Gon. He’d wanted to tell Qui-Gon everything, the dreams, Quincy, the strange flashes of memory that wasn’t his own, but if he told Qui-Gon now, they’d leave him on Coruscant and his Master would meet the Sith alone. Obi-Wan shuddered with dread at the mere thought. He lifted his arm, drew his shields tightly around his dread and forced a smile. “Yes, Master. I’m fine.”

Qui-Gon smiled, relieved. “The Healer said you’re all right and we can go home if you’re ready.”

Obi-Wan sighed in relief. “Thank the Force.” He pulled on his tunics and gestured for Qui-Gon to hand him his belt and boots. “I like the Healers as individuals, but I’m always glad to see the outside of the Ward.”

“You’re in excellent company, Padawan. Even Master Yoda, no, make that especially Master Yoda, doesn’t like to stay here.”

Obi-Wan finished dressing and slipped his hand in Qui-Gon’s. “Come on, before they change their minds.”

They made their way out of the ward and back to their quarters. On the way, Qui-Gon told him the newest developments. “I spoke to the Council and reported my encounter with the Sith. They told me to be vigilant and ordered us to escort Queen Amidala back to Naboo.”

“What about Ani?”

“I left him with the Creche Masters for now. We’ll deal with him when we return.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smiled, relieved without knowing why.

They reached their quarters and Qui-Gon stirred Obi-Wan directly towards the bedroom, shaking his head at Obi-Wan’s lecherous grin. “Bed, young man.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“To rest, Padawan. To sleep.”

Obi-Wan grinned and wound his arms around Qui-Gon’s neck, nuzzling his throat. “Afterwards, Master.”

Form far away, he heard Qui-Gon say something to the Queen, saw the people around them melt away until it was only the three of them and suddenly he knew. Whatever it was he’d been waiting for, it had arrived. His dreams had caught up with him, it seemed.

“It’s not too late yet. You don’t have to do this.”

Obi-Wan ignored Quincy. His focus narrowed down to the point of the Sith’s lightsabre staff. He discarded his robe and felt more than saw Qui-Gon do the same, feeling a calm acceptance of the inevitability of this confrontation come over him. They would fight, then. And they would win. He would not allow what his dreams had shown to come true.

The lightsabres hummed to life and they engaged the Sith.

They fought. Spin, slash, turn, somersault. Damn, that Sith was fast! The Force flowed strongly between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, their connection stronger than ever. They moved with a single purpose and fought with a single mind.

It was not enough. Obi-Wan moved through the fight with an increasing detachment, felt the heat of the Sith’s sabre in front of his face with an unreal feeling of not being centred in his own skin. He felt the Sith’s kick only fleetingly, was only distantly aware of him hitting the ground and for a moment, he had to fight for consciousness.

He reached for the Force, let it flow through him, concentrated on its soothing touch, used it to centre himself in his own skin. Qui-Gon. He had to get to Qui-Gon. Everything else was unimportant.

“You can still stop this.”

He didn’t have time for this. All that mattered now was getting to the Sith before Qui-Gon did. There was no red curtain of energy in sight, so maybe there was still time.

His feet touched the platform and he saw Qui-Gon drive the Sith back to the reactor chamber. He ran as fast as he could, but the stretch between him and the fighters seemed to be impossibly long and his feet didn’t seem to move as they were supposed to.

The red curtain fell between him, Qui-Gon and the Sith. “No..” Obi-Wan whispered.

He watched as Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsabre and knelt down.

“Please tell me why you think this is necessary. Do you want to prove to yourself that this is real?”

Obi-Wan ignored the voice. Red wavering of energy before his eyes.

He felt the mental caress through the bond. /My Obi-Wan…/

Words centring him more surely into himself than anything else could have. Words choking him with the reality of the situation.

Obi-Wan punched his fist into the force field. He felt a vague hysterical amusement that his fist went numb, but the force field didn’t move. /That I am. That I always will be. /

/I love you. I just want you to know that. /

He closed his eyes. /I know. /

Quincy’s hand on his arm. “Toby, please.”

The red curtain lifted and Obi-Wan ran. Ran. And ran. Impossibly long, impossibly wide. Qui-Gon. Get to Qui-Gon. Now.

The barrier wavered into place and once again, Obi-Wan was forced to watch.

Far. So far. The divide seemed more elemental than the barrier of red energy between them. Why could he not step through it? Had he tried? He put a hand against the force field and pushed, but the curtain refused to move, did not yield to his iron will. “Please, Toby! Stop torturing yourself! Stop this while you can.”

“I don’t know how,” he half screamed, half sobbed.

“Just wake up.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I don’t know how…”a whisper this time.

And still they fought. Qui-Gon and the Sith, the nameless, shapeless creature from his dreams, his dread in the flesh.

He saw the blow before it hit. Saw the sequence of events as if he’d already lived through it a hundred times in a hundred different ways. Saw the red blade come down.

Nothing could have prepared him for Qui-Gon’s fall. Nothing could have prepared him for the pain, the endless, boundless, shapeless and entirely spiritual pain of Qui-Gon Jinn’s death.

His heart splintered, his mind screamed in raw agony as the training bond faded, and his throat gave voice to the endless loop of pain in his head, “Nooooo!”

The curtain lifted and the Sith came towards him, a slow stride of arrogant assured victory. Obi-Wan managed to rip his eyes away from Qui-Gon’s body long enough to defend himself against the Sith’s attack, then the energy field cycled back in place and Obi-Wan sank to his knees, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Toby.” The hand on his shoulder was heavy and warm. It seemed so real.

He looked back to Qui-Gon’s body. “How can it hurt so much if it’s not real?” he whispered.

Quincy sounded very tired when he answered. “It’s real in your heart, Toby. It always was. Don’t you see that for you, it never mattered if he was real or not? He loved you, and that was enough for you, it kept you here, kept you happy. But what now?”

Obi-Wan raised his hand and looked at it. He touched it to the force field. He looked at Quincy, then at Qui-Gon’s dead body, and it occurred to him that he could not possibly continue to live like this, no matter who or what he was.

“What do I do now?”

Quincy smiled. “The only thing you ever had to do. Make a choice.”

The force field lifted, and Obi-Wan was on his feet, lightsabre ready and waiting for the Sith.

This time, the way to the inner room took no time at all. He drove the Sith before him with the determination of a man who had nothing left to lose.

Training took over. He fought the Sith without conscious effort, without thought it seemed. With every slash, spin, thrust with his sabre, he knew the end was just that tiniest bit closer.

The end of doubt. The end of fear. The end of the screaming raw pain in his heart and soul.

There. This was it. Now. Spin just like this. Now dodge. Or dodge not. Make a choice.

An endless moment where he saw everything. Bant, Yoda, the Major, Bruck, rain on his thirteenth birthday, his mother, Anakin, Erin, the endless void of stars in hyperspace, the warmth of a hearth fire in grandpa’s old hut, how Qui-Gon’s robe smelled, Quincy brushing his hair back while he lay sleeping, Qui-Gon, telling him the only words that had ever truly mattered. “I love you.”

Tobiwan chose.

The Sith’s lightsabre drove into his body with a force that knocked him back, and he wondered dimly that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would as he lay on the floor and looked up at the ceiling, then turned his head to look at Qui-Gon, and he could almost see these blue, blue eyes when everything around him turned hazy, faded, transmuted and suddenly the room around him shifted and shattered and he found himself staring at a piece of paper under a small reading lamp, the pen still in his hand, the last words on the paper smudged by tears and his shaking hand lost the pen as he sank down from the chair to the floor in a heap of raw, shivering, endless grief.

Strong arms caught him and held him as he shook and cried and shattered into a million indistinguishable pieces right there on the floor, like the mirror he’d crashed oh so long ago in this very room, but this time it weren’t his hands that bled.

He felt the hands rubbing his back only dimly. He wasn’t really aware of the cold floor beneath him. He didn’t hear the words whispered into his ears. He was awash in memories and sights and sounds and feelings and identity that started to restructure and reconstruct and right now, if anyone had asked him what his name was, he could not have answered.

Speech had disappeared together with everything else into the maelstrom of emotion. Knowledge had fled and made way for instinct. Instinct told him to borrow into the warmth, and he did, and finally, he was able to breathe steadily again, without having to convince his lungs that he was indeed still there, still in need of breath.

His heart beat on, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just died. Or had he?

He drew back and felt the place just over his heart where the lightsabre had passed through his body. He blinked at Quincy through the tears.

“Is this real now?” he whispered, the question seeming as old as himself, and yet this time it was different. This time he knew the answer.

Quincy nodded, and this time, for maybe the first time since they’d first met, Tobias believed him.

Epilogue

June 4th

Damn, this is much stranger than I thought it would be. I haven’t written in this diary since I was admitted to the hospital. Haven’t written a word of any kind in almost six months, ever since the night Qui-Gon died. And I died.

Weird to write the words down, but I did die that night, or at least a part of me did. Obi-Wan died that night. It’s so strange to talk about that night, so utterly, completely strange, but Quincy said I should.

I was prepared to die. I thought I would. I wanted the Sith to kill me. It was the only way to be sure. And when I came to myself here, in the hospital, I thought I’d die all over again. All a lie. All the memories, all the emotions, all a lie.

But I know now that it’s not true. It was never a lie. It came from my heart, all of it. Still, it took me a long time to accept that rationally, there is no Obi-Wan, or Qui-Gon, but that in my heart and soul, they will always be there. I still wake at night and reach for him. I still cry for him. I still love him, and I always will. I still feel like Obi-Wan did.

I told all that to Quincy, and he said that of course it would take a while for the grief to fade and that it was all right that way. And he said that in a way, Obi-Wan would always be there, with me, inside me, because I AM Obi-Wan, after all, only I do not have Force powers and I do not have a lightsabre, but I do have people who love me just as much as Qui-Gon did.

Sometimes I think he’s talking about Erin. Other times, I’m not so sure.

Erin. She’ll come to pick me up soon. She was the one who brought me this diary. Fitting that my first entry should be on my last day here.

Yes, I’m free, free, free at last! I’m officially not a danger to myself anymore, so Quincy told me I could go home.

Home. I almost laughed when I heard him say that. Home was where, exactly?

Parents made noises that I should move back in with them until I was recovered. Yeah, right. I’d rather move to Hoth. Pardon the Obi-Wanism.

Turned out Quincy had it all planned behind my back. He spoke to Erin and it turned out I could move in with her if I wanted to. I asked her what happened to my flat, but she told me it was sublet about two years ago and the subletter’s contract isn’t due to expire for another six months. I was frankly relieved. The thought of living alone scares the hell out of me.

I should go, Quincy’s just come in, and he’s staring at me again. The man gives me the shivers. And not really in a bad way. But more on that later.

Toby closed the diary before Quincy could see what he’d written. He turned to the man, who was leaning in the doorframe. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

Quincy nodded. “Have you packed everything?”

“Yep.” Toby pointed at the bed, where a suitcase and the huge box with the diaries and notebooks sat. The only items of his still outside of the baggage were the diary he’d just closed and his last ‘Obi-Wan’ notebook, which still lay on the table where he’d left it almost six months ago. He hadn’t had the heart to even shut it; it was still open on the last page he’d written.

“And what about that?” Quincy nodded in the direction of said notebook.

Toby shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems ridiculous, I know, but packing it away seems so final. I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

“I understand that, but remember that Obi-Wan is a part of you now. You carry him with you wherever you go. You don’t need the book anymore.”

Toby sighed and buried his head in his hands. There were days it hurt so much to look at Quincy with his Qui-Gon eyes and smile. “Sometimes I wish he’d go away. Sometimes I wish I’d never made him up in the first place.”

“But think about all you learned from him, from both of them.” Quincy crouched down next to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and Toby jumped.

He looked into the man’s warm, warm eyes and swallowed. “Have I said thank you?” he asked in no more than a whisper.

Quincy shrugged. “Not in so many words.” The doctor’s voice was just the slightest bit unsteady.

Toby leaned down and brushed his lips over Quincy’s, quickly, lightly, a feather touch, a fragment of a kiss. “Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of them breathed. Then Quincy let out a shaky breath and said, quietly, “I gave Erin my phone number. Home and the practice in London.”

Toby frowned. “You’re moving back to London?”

Quincy nodded and smiled a small, self-depreciating smile. “Yeah. Turns out Lucy isn’t quite enough of a life for me.”

“Maybe we could… you know… talk sometimes? Maybe be friends?” Toby looked at the doctor, insecurity and fear warring hope and anticipation.

“I think I’d like that.” Quincy smiled again, a real one this time, and Toby smiled back automatically, even though it pained him to do so, for the man almost radiated Qui-Gon when he smiled like that.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this was even the mother of all bad ideas. But as long as he felt the pleasant tingle in the pit of his stomach through the pain in his heart, he didn’t give a Sith. Pardon the Obi-Wanism.

Quincy stood. “I should go now. I’ve got some patients to see, and Erin will be here any minute now.”

Toby stood as well. He held out a hand. “Thank you, John. For everything. I’ll see you in London.”

Quincy took his hand and held it for a long moment. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, then turned and left.

Toby sat back down again on his chair, staring at the closed door for a long time. Then he turned to the still open notebook. He took it in his hands and leafed through it, now and then stopping to read a sentence or a paragraph, or to run his fingers lovingly over the script, smiling.

And in the pages, he found his lesson. Love.

He believed it now. He deserved to be loved. He was no longer afraid to love.

The pretentious intellectual in him scoffed at the irony of finding self-worth by becoming somebody else, but Toby told him to shut up and that he loved him as well.

He reached the last page and a tear dripped onto the page, smearing the ink in yet another place. He closed his eyes and put his palm flat against the page.

“Thank you,” he whispered. And meant it.

“I love you.” And meant it. With every fibre of his being.

He picked up the pen, and wrote two words. Then he closed the book, and as the pages fell shut, the last words he saw were the last two words he’d written.

The End

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