Master Apprentice Archive Taken by Flame Quick search:

Archive: MA, or ask me

Category: Q/O, AU, Angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: Character deaths

Summary: At Qui-Gon's funeral (sorry), Obi-Wan is expected to carry out a padawan's duty to his dead master.

Disclaimer: George's characters, not mine.

Feedback: Yes please, on or off list.

Note: Thanks Master Cuimne! Always there with timely advice - you are the best. Also please see further explanatory note at the end.

The padawan was the first to arrive. The small roofless chapel was in darkness save a flickering candle near the head of the body lying in state, awaiting the coming ceremony.

Obi-Wan walked towards his dead master, hood pulled low over his face as though to shield his expression, though there was no one to see. He stopped close to the body and stood in his designated position. He would honour his master in this; he would not fail him now.

The private battle he had been waging since that moment in the power generator hall, that moment when his world had collapsed, was still raging inside him. To outward appearances, he was calm, accepting of what the Force threw at him as a good Jedi padawan. He almost smiled at the thought. Any of the visiting Jedi dignitaries who had arrived for the funeral would be able to feel his turmoil.

Pain, most of all: the agony of losing his master, his friend, his lover, and the mental bond that had connected them. He doubted that he would have been able to carry on even if that emotion had been the only one that was crippling him. But the fear was bubbling under the pain. Fear of something he didn't understand, the darkness that had taken his master and threatened the ordered world he knew.

Not many would have seen it as ordered, he supposed - running from one trouble spot to another, the only home he knew the simple quarters at the Temple where he seldom spent more than two nights in a row. But the solid presence of his master had always been with him, grounding him: a feeling of home no matter where they were.

But he acknowledged the other cause of his fear. He knew what he had to do. They all expected his duty to be carried out without question, without pleading for release.

There is no fear. Right. But the good padawan stood unmoving, betraying no emotion, as the first of the dignitaries began to arrive.

The worthies of Naboo, the queen and her handmaidens and ministers, entered slowly, the young Skywalker boy at her side. He left her to stand next to Obi-Wan and looked up at him questioningly. The padawan remained unmoving, looking towards the pyre and not acknowledging the boy's presence. He could not afford any lack of concentration.

Obi-Wan understood completely the need for this ritual - the fear and despair that had been with him since the moment on the power generator floor had been pulling at his soul; the moment when he had laid his hand over the wound in his master's chest and felt the life fade from the strong body even as the bond cracked and tore his mind. No one should be expected to endure after that.

His breath hitched and a sob almost broke free. Almost. He would not allow it.

The visiting Jedi had begun to arrive. Obi-Wan didn't need to turn to them to know who was there. He felt their grave eyes on him, and their gentle probes into his mind, checking on his state. Don't worry, he thought silently, I will do what is expected. I won't shirk from this. But the fear was rising.

The fire had been lit and the smoke floated up to the stars. A pleasant scent, Obi-Wan thought, and it reminded him of the many nights he had lit a small fire to provide some warmth for himself and his master on countless chilly evenings, and to cook over. Meat cooking. Oh Force, he almost retched. My master, my love...

It was almost time. The flames had taken hold and the roaring filled his ears, his mind. The mild probing of his mind from the Jedi masters around him intensified, questing, ready to push, to help him if he needed it.

But Obi-Wan needed no outside help to fulfil his duty.

He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and stepped forward towards the blazing pyre. The young boy at his side stiffened, sensing imminent danger, and moved to stop him. Councillor Windu's large hand landed on his shoulder, preventing the youngster from moving forward.

Obi-Wan was close to the fire, felt its heat on his face, the smoke stinging his eyes. He wondered if that was the reason for the hot tears flowing down his cheeks.

He put out his hand into the flames. Anakin Skywalker screamed and tried to pull free from the restricting hands, and shouts went up from several of the queen's party. Obi-Wan didn't turn to look, the Jedi were holding anyone who threatened to step forward and interfere. He even heard a plaintive cry that could only have come from Jar-Jar Binks.

Pushing the pain as far down from his awareness as he could, he stepped forward.

His clothes caught first, as he became engulfed in the flames. There was not much left of the body of his master, but he tried to fall towards that place where he had seen the still form. His hair blazed and he could no longer prevent the screams, the pain was more than he could bear, could push away. He wasn't far from darkness - pure, simple death, not the Darkness that he had felt when he put an end to the creature that had taken his master - and the mental probes strengthened, helping him towards oblivion. Towards his beloved master.

Stunned silence replaced the cries of the Naboo contingent, and then quiet sobbing as the fire died down.

The young queen turned to the Jedi, her face twisted in grief and horror.

"Why? How could you allow that to happen?" she asked in disbelief.

"Follow the master, the padawan must," answered the small master at her side. "Follow the Code, all Jedi must."

She could hardly speak, and through tears insisted, "But he was young, alive, why did he have to die like that? It is horrible..." She stared at the glowing embers. The young boy had moved to her and clung to her robe, shaking in reaction.

Master Windu took her arm and moved them away, out of the chapel, away from the horror.

"When a padawan's master dies, the apprentice must follow. Such a broken individual would be too much in peril of the Dark Side. It cannot be risked. It is our way. There is no other."

"Willingly?" she asked. "What if he refused, didn't want to die?"

"We would help him," the dark master answered.

Note: From the (illegal) practice (called suttee or sati) in parts of rural India where the wife is expected to follow her husband in death.