Master Apprentice
Archive
When Dreams Speak So Loudly
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Qui-Gon Jinn switched off his data-reader and allowed himself to lean back in his chair. It was late; too late to still be up working on this blasted research. So, why are you doing it, Jinn? he asked himself bitterly. Take the advice you gave to your Padawan and go to bed.
At the thought of Obi-Wan, he reached out with a thin tendril of the Force to touch their training bond. The fifteen-year-old had not been sleeping well of late. Although he had neither complained nor confided in his Master, the source of the problem had become obvious a few nights ago. Obi-Wan was having nightmares. Qui-Gon let his mind touch the boy's, so softly that it would not disturb his rest, and a frown crossed his face briefly to find that Obi-Wan was wide-awake. Rising, he made his way to the smaller of the two bedrooms. He stood silently in the doorway for a long few moments, watching the relaxed face, the gentle rise and fall of the chest. He folded his arms.
"You are not fooling me, Padawan," he said finally, putting on his best Master's scowl despite the fact that the darkness in the room and the brighter light behind him would probably prevent Obi-Wan from appreciating it. Two blue-green eyes popped open, looking contrite. Qui-Gon sighed. "May I ask, Obi-Wan, what you are doing awake at this hour?"
Long eyelashes lowered to half-veil Obi-Wan's eyes, and he shrugged silently. In response, Qui-Gon crossed the distance and seated himself of the edge of the boy's narrow bed. He reached out with one hand and stroked sleep-mussed hair off the slightly damp forehead. "More dreams?" he asked in an entirely different tone.
Still silent, Obi-Wan nodded.
"Don't you think it's time you talked about them?" Qui-Gon encouraged. But he felt the boy tense under his touch, just before Obi-Wan rolled away, turning his back on his Master and pulling the covers up to his chin.
"It's nothing, Master," came the muttered reply. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
But Qui-Gon was not about to let this pass so easily. Not again. He caught the boy's shoulder and rolled him back, trying to make eye contact with the blue-green gaze that eluded him. "Obi-Wan . . ."
Obi-Wan looked up at him finally, silent once more, and Qui-Gon resisted the urge to sigh again. "You will feel better if you speak of them," he said, letting the hand that was still on the boy's shoulder lightly knead the tense muscles he found there.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "I can't," he said, his voice scarcely more than a whisper, and a desperate one at that. "Please don't make me."
He was half tempted to press further. Obi-Wan was obedient, and would not refuse a direct question. Instead, he said, "Dreams are only the fantasies of a weary mind."
Obi-Wan nodded, eyes still closed.
Qui-Gon ran the backs of his fingers in a slow, soothing path from Obi-Wan's temple to the cleft in his chin. "You are welcome to share your dreams with me, you know."
The boy nodded again. "Not dreams," he whispered. "Only one dream . . ."
"Would you like to tell me?" his Master asked, stroking the soft cheek again.
Obi-Wan shook his head, squeezing his eyes even more tightly shut, making small lines of tension appear at the corners. "No, Master," he said, barely audibly.
Qui-Gon let his hand settle on the tense shoulder again. "Very well." He rose smoothly to his feet, tucking the covers in more snuggly around the slender form. "You know where I am should you change your mind. All you need do is call."
"I know," Obi-Wan breathed, though he still did not look up. "Thank you, Master."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Sleep well, Padawan." He left the boy, pulling the door closed behind him. But he set himself to be aware, to monitor Obi-Wan's sleep, as he made his way silently to his own bed. As he lay there, listening to the silence of their shared quarters, he thought back over the previous days. That his Padawan wasn't getting enough sleep had been obvious. The boy's concentration was off, his grasp of the Force a bit shaky. And Qui-Gon would feel the blue-green gaze following him whenever Obi-Wan thought his Master was unaware of his scrutiny; long, lingering looks that always broke away just before he turned to meet them. The older Jedi had at first passed it off as the start of adolescence. The boy was at the proper age for it, after all, and many Padawans harbored fantasies of their Masters at this time in their lives. That, coupled with the change in sleep patterns, he had written off as the first signs of sexual awakening.
Until he had been awakened four nights ago by an anguished cry from Obi-Wan's room. He had rushed to his bedside, only to find the boy thrashing amid tangled sheets, lost in the depths of some nightmare. Once awakened, Obi-Wan had seemed no more than embarrassed, apologizing prolifically for awakening his Master, and had refused to speak of his dream. So, Qui-Gon had soothed him back to sleep with a touch of the Force and respected the boy's privacy, offering, as he had each night since, to listen.
Whatever the dream was, it was robbing Obi-Wan of his vitality and his good humor, and Qui-Gon knew he could not allow it to remain a private thing much longer. If Obi-Wan would not --- or could not --- speak of it, then a more direct approach was called for. Invasion of privacy or not, Qui-Gon must know what so troubled his Padawan.
Scarcely an hour later, Qui-Gon was shaken from a light doze by a silent cry of distress from Obi-Wan. Instead of rising, he opened himself to their training link, and opened his mind to the images tumbling like a maelstrom through the boy's subconscious.
Before his eyes, a lightsaber duel was unfolding. He watched himself battling a barely seen figure, strangely red and black and drenched in darkness, the vision semi-obscured by the haze of quivering energy before him. He watched the fight as if in slow motion; the double-bladed sword spinning and parrying, his own green blade blocking, but barely. He knew what would happen before he saw it, feeling it through the rapidly mounting terror in the boy's mind. A hard clip to a chin, a thrust, and he watched himself fall bonelessly to the floor, skewered through the chest, as a scream of agony and rage was torn from his Padawan's throat.
His eyes snapped open as a verbal scream echoed the one in the dream. He was at Obi-Wan's bedside in seconds, reaching to still the twisting, writhing form on the bed. "Shhh, Padawan," he soothed, trying to lead the boy out of his nightmare and into the reality of wakefulness. "Shhh. I'm here. All is well."
Blue-green eyes snapped open, and in a rare display of emotion Obi-Wan threw his arms around his Master. Burying his face against Qui-Gon's bare chest, he began to sob.
"Shhh," Qui-Gon whispered, his lips brushing the spiky hair. "Shhh. I'm here. It was only a dream."
To his amazement, Obi-Wan shook his head, though he did not raise himself from Qui-Gon's chest. "A vision," he said in an agonized, hushed voice. "It was a vision, Master."
Qui-Gon stroked the boy's back soothingly, his free hand cradling Obi-Wan's head and holding it more firmly against him. "It may have felt like one, Padawan," he began, but Obi-Wan pulled away and looked up into his eyes, his young face tear-stained and flushed. He shook his head emphatically.
"No, Master," he said, putting conviction behind the words. "It's a vision. I spoke with Master Yoda about it, and ---"
"You spoke with Yoda?" Qui-Gon asked, trying to hide the small ache that bloomed in his soul. Why had the boy not felt he could come to his Master with this? But he could see in the gaze locked with his that his Padawan felt his pain.
"I'm sorry, Master. I didn't want to trouble you with this." He ducked his head almost shyly, and his next words were murmured against the skin of Qui-Gon's chest. "And I thought that you would tell me to concentrate on the here and now."
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. Yes, that is exactly what he would have told the boy. He stroked his hand down the sweat-dampened back again. "Did Master Yoda believe that it was a vision of the future?" he asked, already sensing the answer.
The head against his chest nodded, and Obi-Wan reached up to wipe away the remnants of his tears with the back of one hand. "He said that the future is always in motion, and that this was a vision of one possibility." He looked up again, pushing back far enough to stare boldly up into his Master's eyes. His expression tightened into one of grim determination. "But I won't let that be the future, Master. I won't let you die that way. I don't ever want to lose you."
"You will not lose me, my Padawan," Qui-Gon told him gently. "'There is no death ---'"
Obi-Wan surprised him by interrupting. "Don't quote the Jedi code to me, Master!" he shouted, then his young face paled in sudden shame at his tone. He dropped his gaze penitently. "Forgive me, my Master. I mean no disrespect. But in my vision you DO die, and I don't want that to happen. Ever."
Qui-Gon stroked the cheek, feeling fresh wetness. "Someday I will, Padawan," he reminded the boy. Obi-Wan nodded.
"Someday, yes," came the soft reply. "When we are both old and gray. But not this way." His voice softened even more. "Not this way."
Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, though the tightness in his chest resented it. He rubbed soothing circles on the Padawan's lower back. "And, what would you have us do to prevent it, Obi-Wan?" he asked.
The boy looked up again, his eyes wide and bright with still-unshed tears. "You were there, weren't you? In my mind? You saw the fight, didn't you?"
Qui-Gon nodded, wondering if the boy was upset by his prying.
"Good," Obi-Wan said immediately, easing his mind. "Then you saw the stroke that killed you. We must train, Master, and develop a sure defense against that stroke. You must practice it and practice it until it is a part of you!"
Qui-Gon choked back the chuckle that threatened to escape. The Padawan ordering the Master to practice? It was precocious, but precious in it's own way. He gazed down into the fierce determination in the eyes that held his. "Very well, Obi-Wan. We shall begin tomorrow, if it pleases you." He saw relief light the young face. "Not that I am convinced that this was indeed a vision of the future," he added, more firmly. "But if it will ease your mind --- and your dreams --- then we shall work together to develop a strategy against this attack."
"Thank you, Master."
Qui-Gon worked for a moment to straighten the twisted covers, smoothing them over the boy as he eased him back down onto his bed. "And now, Padawan mine, you must sleep."
"I'm --- not certain that I can, Master," Obi-Wan said hesitantly. "Everytime I close my eyes, the vision returns."
"Then I shall stay with you," Qui-Gon said, sliding into a more comfortable position on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard, his hand resting lightly over one of Obi-Wan's smaller ones. "I shall use the Force to guard your dreams."
"But you need rest, too," Obi-Wan began, only to be cut off by a look from his Master.
"This will not be the first time I have sat up with you, Padawan. Nor is it likely to be the last." He gently squeezed the hand he held. "And you need your rest far more than I." He smiled down into the still hesitant face. "Sleep, Obi-Wan," he said, sending out a Force suggestion to see that he was obeyed. The boy blinked suddenly heavy eyelids a few times before surrendering at last with a quivering sigh.
True to his word, Qui-Gon sat with him the rest of the night, ensuring that the boy did not dream.
* * * * *
"Good morning, Master," Obi-Wan said in a softly shy voice as he emerged from his bedroom the next morning. He saw that the table was already set --- usually his job --- and a hint of color rose to his cheeks. "Forgive me, but I seem to have overslept."
Qui-Gon smiled at him. "There is nothing to forgive, Padawan. You needed the sleep." He lifted the plate of jellied toast and sliced fruit that he had prepared for the boy. "Hungry?"
Obi-Wan grinned. "Starving!"
Qui-Gon chuckled in response. "I suspected as much. Sit. Eat. Afterwards, if you still want to, we will go to the practice hall and work out a defense against that saber strike."
"Then I didn't dream it?" Obi-Wan said, eyes round and bright as he slid into a chair and scooped up the toast. "You really want to do this?"
"No. You didn't dream it. And, if it will ease your mind, then, yes; I really want to do it."
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said, right before he dived enthusiastically into his meal.
* * * * *
They ended up spending the better part of the day in the practice hall. Obi-Wan did not seem content with only the countermoves that he and his Master had worked out. Instead, he enlisted everyone he could, encouraging them or begging them or at times almost dragging them onto the mats with him, from Padawans to Knights to Masters. After they had sparred with him until he was happy with the defense, he would cajole them into sparring with Qui-Gon, going over and over and over the same move until the Jedi Master thought he would go mad with the repetition.
Finally, Obi-Wan ran out of recruits. Indeed, Qui-Gon noticed, the boy had single-handedly managed to clear the entire practice arena of each and every person who had dared step foot inside. Panting and drenched with sweat, Qui-Gon was immensely relieved.
Obi-Wan, however, was still looking for new victims. He stood in the center of the empty hall, turning round and round as if certain that he must have missed someone.
"Enough for one day, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, stepping forward to lay a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're old Master is exhausted."
Obi-Wan's eyes flashed up at him in amused apology. "Sorry, Master," he muttered. "And you're not old."
"Older than I thought, it would appear." He used his grip on the slender shoulder to steer Obi-Wan toward the showers, catching a flicker of movement from behind him. Without turning, he knew that Master Yoda had stepped into the doorway. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan sensed him, too.
"Master Yoda!" he exclaimed, slipping easily out from under Qui-Gon's hand. "Master Qui-Gon and I have been working on a saber defense ---"
"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, frustrated amusement coloring his voice. He caught the boy and turned him back. "Shower, Padawan. Now."
A huge sigh was his answer. "Yes, Master."
Once he was gone, Qui-Gon turned toward Yoda.
"Worried for you, he is," the little green Jedi said without preamble. "Powerful vision he has had."
"Without your encouragement, Master, he would not be convinced it was a vision, and he would not have run me ragged all day."
Yoda chuckled. "Good for you, it was. Accomplished, did he, what he hoped?"
Qui-Gon sighed. Yoda was having entirely too much fun with this. "He worked out a defense to the saber thrust in his dream, if that's what you mean," he said, reaching to rub at a complaining muscle in his lower back. "I must have practiced it a hundred times, with everyone he could drag onto the mat."
Yoda chuckled again, and Qui-Gon began to have some very un-Jedi-like thoughts of what he would like to do to the little green troll, former Master or not. "Heard that, I did," Yoda told him, ears rising straight up as his eyes grew round. "A Jedi does not plot revenge, nor consider ways to kill his former Master."
"I believe that in this case it would be justified," Qui-Gon growled.
Yoda resumed his chuckling. "Just see that you remember this defense the boy has taught you," he said as he turned and left the room. "Serve you well someday I believe it will."
Qui-Gon stared after him for a moment, then sighed, reawakening the pain in his back. Some days, it seemed, it just didn't pay to get out of bed.
The End