Master Apprentice Archive Sleepless Night Quick search:

Archive: MA, or ask me

Category: Q/O, POV

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Summary: Obi's mind drifts as he tries to sleep.

Disclaimer: George's characters, not mine.

Feedback: Yes please

Note: Many thanks to Bonny for the beta.

When I was a boy, I used to pretend. I would lie in bed, close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else; someone else. I could be a pilot, flying the fastest ships known. Or a ruthless pirate. A Jedi knight.

Always that dream. I would be a great Jedi, as serene and calm as the quiet figures I saw moving through the Temple. That was a far cry from the noisy, sometimes accident-prone boy, frequently chastised by the initiate-masters for his lapses in self-control. I would be a guardian of peace. I would fight to protect the defenceless.

If I close my eyes now to shut out the dim shadows in the sweltering room, perhaps I can pretend again. None of this is real: the Darkness, the Empire… the oppressive heat of the small room.

Once more I am that little boy; an initiate who has failed to find a master.

It is night. In the morning, I leave the Temple. I stare at the ceiling thinking that the world has ended. Everything I had hoped for, trained for, worked for, was to be taken away from me. I don't cry. I'm too far gone for weeping - in a state of shock. My last chance has gone and I have failed; I am being sent away.

No wonder I couldn't sleep that night. Why do I remember it so vividly?

Another night not long after that I found myself in the same wakeful state but for very different reasons. I am lying in a narrow bunk, supposed to be resting in readiness for my first full day as a padawan. The word keeps jumping into my mind: Padawan! Me! I'm sure that I am keeping my new master awake with my nervous energy. It all feels so right. Part of me can't believe that I have been chosen at last after having convinced myself that becoming a Jedi knight was not to be my destiny. Well, almost convinced myself.

My mind is wandering sleeplessly. Another time? A few years later.

I wake in an infirmary ward, hurting all over. I have been injured – stupidly I got in the way of a falling building when rebel forces were shelling the town where we were sheltering. The healers are very busy dealing with the most serious casualties and I have been left alone, since I am not in immediate need of attention. I try to fall into a healing trance, or at least just rest and let my body heal itself. But I fail. Yes, `fail' is the word that keeps me awake. I know that I have failed my master, and failed in my duty. I lie awake chastising myself – it had been a silly mistake in judgement, an unforgivable lack of foresight.

But what hurts most is that my master isn't here with me. Though the rational, grown-up part of me knows that Qui-Gon has duties, that he is working to complete the mission (and should have the help of his apprentice), a small part of me wants him here at my bedside. I want him to refuse to leave me, to fuss, to make sure that I am going to be alright.

Qui-Gon has never done that. His duty always came first: before himself, before his apprentice.

As he explained so eloquently to me the evening I approached him with a confession of love.

Still sleepless, I smile to myself as I remember that moment - I had probably chosen a bad time. But there never seemed to be a good time. We were kept constantly busy, shuttling from one trouble spot to another, the short time between filled with training, catching up on lectures and exams. As a senior padawan, my feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. So when we did have a quiet moment I seized the opportunity.

We were waiting for the transport to arrive which would take us to our next mission. We were both glad to be leaving that particular world – ruled by bigoted, narrow-minded, selfish…. Well, yes – they had been difficult. But the planet itself was a pleasant, temperate world; wealthy in natural resources.

On that evening we sat under a dark blue sky, the stars hidden by the lights of the spaceport. I told Qui-Gon of my feelings. Unnecessary, really; my master was very aware of them. And he gently rejected them.

The transport arrived and we began the long journey home. Once again I am that teenager, lying on a bunk in a cold cabin; unable to switch off the tumbling thoughts. The latest rejection.

Ah, but the master had been won over eventually. I had been too young, Qui-Gon had explained; too dependent. I laughed at that. I had been trained almost from birth to stand up for what is right, to defend myself and others, to be resourceful and self-reliant – but of course Qui-Gon had been right. He had to give me time to grow: to know for certain that this need wasn't just a teenage crush, or the channelling of maturing sexuality to the one person who was close. He had waited until I had almost completed my apprenticeship before he brought the subject up again and when he did, I could hardly believe what Qui-Gon was asking: did I still wish for that relationship?

Neither of us slept that night.

So much has happened since then. My own unimportant little hopes and fears paled into insignificance against the Darkness that rose up to engulf the galaxy.

Which brings my thoughts back to Anakin – the cause of many sleepless nights over the years. From early worries that the former slave was too old to begin training, to the secrets, the suppressed anger and to the final certainty that he was beyond redemption.

It would be easier to believe that Anakin is dead than to accept that he has become that monster. Stop that train of thought. I know from past experience where it leads: regret and guilt over my own part in creating the monster.

This desert night is stifling. There is no cooling breeze and the thin sheet sticks to my skin.

I may as well get up – it is unlikely that I will get any sleep. I could always nap tomorrow. After all, there is nothing pressing for me to do. All I have to do is wait on this dry dust ball of a world for a child to grow up. I just need to survive long enough to see Anakin's son safe. And the daughter? It is safer if I don't even think about her, or where she is.

And tomorrow, Qui-Gon will be back after his trip to the spaceport for supplies. I said I would go, but he insisted that it was "his turn". He will be tired, hot, dusty and grumpy when he returns. I will strip him, wash him and make love to him. And then we will sleep.