Qui-Gon came out of his meditation slowly, feeling the cold
from the stone that had leached into his legs. His mind felt
more clear and calm than it had in days. His padawan might be
missing from his mind, but something within Qui-Gon's soul had
responded to Obi-Wan's nearness. During the night's meditation,
Qui-Gon had leaned forward, his head resting against the smooth
flank of his padawan.
Qui-Gon leaned into that muscled hip gently. This didn't even
smell like Obi-Wan anymore. His Obi-Wan smelled warm, like
fresh tunics from the laundry. This body smelled empty, a long
shut room or deserted box. Qui-Gon looked across his padawan,
the chest barely rising with each breath, the only sign of life
beyond the constant movement of the eyes within their closed
sockets. Qui-Gon ached to reach out, simply grab Obi-Wan up and
carry him to the ship, but was afraid to move him away from the
enormous Loom. Obi-Wan was dying, separated from the Force and
from the Light·
"Right, Jinn. And who sent him here? Who turned him away?"
Qui-Gon sighed deeply, unwilling to allow himself to sink into
sorrow, but admitting his responsibility. "I did. Oh, Obi-Wan,
I'm so sorry. I was wrong to doubt you, to hurt you."
Slowly, Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's cheek, gently stroking.
Obi-Wan's face was covered in light stubble, which tickled his
fingers; the skin was slightly warm, but not the soft vibrance
Qui-Gon remembered. The young man's lips were slack, slightly
opened as they drew breath. Qui-Gon stood and bent over
Obi-Wan, brushing their lips together.
Nothing. No response. No spark. Nothing. Qui-Gon shuddered and
backed away. This might be Obi-Wan's body, but it was empty,
lacking.
The first and only time they had made love, Qui-Gon had been
unable to believe the intensity that Obi-Wan had built within
him. The night around them had melted away under the heat of
Obi-Wan's body, of his kisses. Qui-Gon had been carried away on
the tide of Obi-Wan's passion and when Qui-Gon had buried his
cock within Obi-Wan's warmth, something deep within the Jedi
Master had cracked.
He had rested beside Obi-Wan, eyes open into the night,
feeling the sweat cool on his skin. Qui-Gon had run one finger
over Obi-Wan's sleeping face. The young man had smiled in his
sleep, murmuring "Master," as he snuggled into Qui-Gon's body.
The light from the window had glanced off of the crimson bead
on Obi-Wan's braid. Qui-Gon looked at this symbol, the ideal of
Jedi control, discipline. From the moment he had first braided
this piece of hair, Qui-Gon had tried to teach his padawan to
control his emotions, to control his impulses.
It had not taken much urging on Obi-Wan's part to break down
all of those years of forcing himself to wait. Now, what to do?
Qui-Gon had slowly removed himself from Obi-Wan's embrace,
gently smoothing away the frown that appeared on the young
man's face. He had gone to his room and begun to think about
how he would proceed.
Finally, as the morning's light brightened, Qui-Gon had
decided. They must wait. Obi-Wan's training, his control, those
things were foremost. They must put aside this passion and wait
until Obi-Wan's knighting.
Qui-Gon had explained this to Obi-Wan that same morning, not
wanting to mislead him. Everything, every ounce of focus
Qui-Gon possessed had gone into not reacting as the warmth and
light had died out of Obi-Wan's gaze.
Qui-Gon had spent the next few weeks fighting against another
loss of control. He hadn't been able to believe the needs that
were welling up within him. He had wanted to possess Obi-Wan,
to enthrall him. He had refused to give in to his need, refused
to admit his level of desire. He had awakened, sweating in the
night, knowing his padawan was simply waiting for his call in
the next room. The Jedi Master had writhed in his bed, fighting
for discipline, demanding that his desires back down, give him
a chance to relax, to regain control.
Obi-Wan hadn't given him that chance. Obi-Wan had always been
there, in his home, in his bed, in his mind. So, invariably,
day after day, Qui-Gon had let the memories of that one amazing
night flow through him as he stroked himself to orgasm, crying
his padawan's name into his pillow.
Finally, Obi-Wan had pushed too far and Qui-Gon had pushed
back, telling his padawan that he needed space. One night,
after meeting up with a young knight in the training salle,
Qui-Gon had shocked himself by inviting the Knight to his
quarters. Qui-Gon had shielded tightly against the training
bond, telling himself he was avoiding hurting Obi-Wan, but
knowing his guilt was paramount. As Qui-Gon had felt the
knight's hands caress him, the memory of Obi-Wan's hands
surfaced, and he had drawn away, apologizing.
Obi-Wan had seen the knight leaving. The fight that had
followed was brutal, both men saying hurtful things while
trying to gain the upper hand. Slowly, Obi-Wan had backed down,
ending the confrontation simply with, "I love you."
Shocked and distressed that the declaration of love would come
now, before he had bolstered his defenses, Qui-Gon had handled
the situation poorly and Obi-Wan had disappeared. Qui-Gon
hadn't mentioned it, hoping things would cool down between
them. Qui-Gon had watched his padawan carefully, monitoring his
rest in the gardens and assuring that no one disturbing his
sleep.
The night Bant had brought Obi-Wan home, Qui-Gon had been in a
complete panic. His padawan had not been in the gardens, in the
library, not in any of his usual haunts. When Obi-Wan had
arrived, Qui-Gon had been embarrassed by the accusations in
Bant's eyes and the stain of tears on Obi-Wan's cheeks.
The next morning had been devastating, the hurtful words
accelerating. Qui-Gon had finally sent Obi-Wan to meditate and
he had gone to do the same. Finally, Qui-Gon had decided to
contact Mace.
He had confessed everything to his old friend. "Mace, I don't
think we can go backwards. I love him. I can't just pretend
nothing exists between us. Perhaps if we formed a pair-bond,
something based on equality between us, perhaps that would
balance the situation."
Mace had questioned Qui-Gon's methodology, finally suggesting
that Qui-Gon speak to his former master. Qui-Gon had
reluctantly agreed, adding, "Something must be done, Mace. I
cannot train him like this. We must break the training bond. We
must, in order to be fair to Obi-Wan's training and to his
heart."
Before the Jedi Master had been able to contact Yoda, Obi-Wan
had truly disappeared, not only from the Jedi Temple, but
somehow from their bond.
He had gone to his old master in a complete panic. "Told Mace,
you did, the bond you wanted broken," Yoda had reminded him.
"Consider this a test, you should." Although Qui-Gon had
blustered and fretted, Yoda was insistent. "Needs space, your
padawan does. Trust me, you will. Go and on your focus think."
The silence had stretched on and on, much longer than the two
weeks Yoda had told him to expect. The bond had remained dead,
silent. When the diminutive master had come to Qui-Gon's door
after almost two standard months had passed with no word from
Obi-Wan, he had known the news was not good.
"My Padawan. No good I hear from Larquis. Too long without
contact it has been. Reports of invasion now are coming in. To
your padawan, go."
It had taken two agonizing weeks to reach Larquis through the
invading army and another week to find M'lss and Obi-Wan. Now,
Obi-Wan lay there, still and fading, being sucked into this
tainted weave.
"Master Jedi?" Qui-Gon turned to look at the tiny girl at his
side.
"Yes, M'lss?"
"You and the Young Jedi have sore hearts, deep wounds that you
have caused each other. There is much pain in you because there
is much passion between you."
Qui-Gon flushed softly, feeling his heart exposed to this
child. "Yes, M'lss. I know that. I can't reach him to bring him
back to me."
"Reach him?"
"Yes. We·we have a bond, a connection. We can sense
each other through the Force."
"The Force? Ah, Nan told me· it's your magic, your
light. You go into the Web more easily than most because of
your magic."
"It's not magic, M'lss, not really."
The child frowned, pursing her lips. "Nan said it was magic,
so it must be. You glow with it, you know. You Jedi glow like
the weaving does. K'thia glowed before they came. She glowed a
bright blue and she could wrap it around you, if you were sick
or tired." M'lss' eyes filled with tears and her breath caught
in her chest.
Qui-Gon smiled gently and stroked the child's dark hair. "You
must have been very special to Healer K'thia. I'm sure she was
very happy here."
"I think everyone was special to K'thia. She was very brave.
She didn't cry when the soldiers came, not even once."
The hand paused. "Did the soldiers take her away, M'lss?"
"The soldiers·they took her·were mean to her. My
mother cried for her, tried to save her. Mother said K'thia
never screamed, never cried out. The soldiers took off K'thia's
head and carried it through town. It didn't really even look
like her anymore, but she didn't look scared."
Qui-Gon felt a slow burning rage build within him. These
soldiers were covering the countryside, desecrating as they
went. Now, they had beheaded a Healer? Someone whose life had
been dedicated to healing and they had abused her, killed her?
They deserved to be punished, to be destroyed·
She scuttled back farther, putting space between herself and
the Jedi. "Master Jedi, the Darkness is trying to get you.
Can't you feel it? It wants you and the Young Jedi, too. It
wants to eat up the brightness within you."
Qui-Gon stopped and looked at the cloth on the Loom. The
Darkness was visible there, slipping through the bright blues
and greens that had been woven. Qui-Gon could feel it reaching
for him, oily and thick. The Jedi strengthened his internal
shields, releasing what anger he could. It would do him no good
to succumb to this anger. It could not help Obi-Wan. "M'lss,
can it·can it get Obi-Wan?"
The girl considered his question thoughtfully. "I don't think
so. The Young Jedi, your Obi-Wan, he cannot use his magic
within the Web. Nan told me. The Jedi Healers died when they
tried to use their magic."
"Why? Do you know why they die?"
"No. I think it is being within the Weave· Nan says
it's like getting a stick tangled in your hair. If you pull it
out, the hairs rip away. You have to take the stick out of the
hair gently."
"Can you get him out, M'lss?"
Her girl's head bowed. "I think I might be able to get him
out, Master Jedi. But I'm afraid. The Dark man changed the
weaving."
"Dark man?" Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as his heart skipped a
beat.
"Yes. The man who took Nan."
"Where did this 'dark man' go, M'lss? Is he still here?"
"I don't know. He came with the soldiers. I only saw him once,
when he took my Nan and he touched the Loom. See these dark
places?" M'lss pointed towards the oily spaces on the cloth.
"He touched the warps. They're different now and I don't know
if I can separate your Obi-Wan from the Darkness."
"Is Obi-Wan protected from the Dark right now?"
"He is safe, but he is awakening. He is fighting against the
bonds and against the Darkness. His body will not survive that
struggle, not after so long. I just don't know what to do, what
Nan would have done."
Qui-Gon turned towards Obi-Wan, watching the rise and fall of
his chest again. Qui-Gon couldn't just leave his padawan like
this, fighting a battle he could not win. He had to find a way
to get him out, out of this Web and off this planet. Once that
happened, Qui-Gon swore he would heal this breach and show his
Padawan how much he was loved.
Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's flank once more and M'lss turned
away as he whispered, "Stay with me, Obi-Wan. I will find you."
His sweat dripped against the ground as he panted in agony.
His body ached in a hundred different places and he was afraid
that he was bleeding from numerous wounds. His breath smelled
sour and he could feel the fear edging around him, nipping at
an ankle, chewing at an exposed wrist. He was confused and
untethered, memory and experience mixing easily with lies and
truth. He was adrift in this unending moment of pure pain.
"Focus, Obi-Wan. Keep your focus," he whispered, swallowing
back a sob. The sensations washed through him, flaying open
fears and dreams, playing them out in vivid detail.
Obi-Wan trembled as images of the Temple, burning and littered
with corpses, flashed into his mind. Friends, masters and
children screaming, crying as Darkness overcame the Light. The
gardens were alight, the leaves of ancient trees curling in the
heat.
"A dream. This is all a nightmare. The Temple has stood for
millennia, it will stand long after you have passed," he told
himself.
"Will it, Obi-Wan?" A voice laughed from somewhere behind him.
"Are you sure it will stand, Padawan?"
Behind his eyes, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought he could see flashes
of light as the darkness gathered, solidifying into a
recognizable form, a slender, dark man with hatred dancing
behind his eyes. The former Jedi apprentice pulled something
familiar from the ebony cloak that swirled around him, throwing
it to the floor by his feet.
The raven-haired man stood before Obi-Wan, igniting his red
lightsaber. The hum filled the room and Obi-Wan's eyes watered,
flinching from the brightness. The scarlet light fell upon the
metal casing of his lightsaber.
Obi-Wan reached through the Force for his saber. Laughter
exploded from Xanatos, Qui-Gon's former apprentice, and his
hand felt cold on Obi-Wan's cheek. The touch followed Obi-Wan
down into the blinding pain.
"Jedi, defend yourself."
Obi-Wan's eyes opened to the sound of humorless laughter. His
hands were held immobile against cold walls, sharp ridges
digging into his wrists, chilling his blood. He jerked against
his restraints, crying out as the bands seemed to tighten
around him. Obi-Wan could smell something rotting and foul near
him. Snuffling sounds came closer and scarlet eyes glowed by
his thigh. As Obi-Wan felt the first touch of jagged teeth on
his flesh, he attempted to defend himself and fell into the
darkness.
"Defense only, Jedi."
The walls ached with screams and his body arched impossibly as
the vibro-knife sliced into his flesh, marking him. The metal
table thrummed beneath his heels and the hand holding the knife
was plump and pink. He could smell his blood, feel the hollows
in his hips as they filled with his fluids. Obi-Wan hadn't
known blood got cold so quickly.
"Release your pain, Jedi."
A man, covered in a dark hood, held a youngling by its throat,
inches away from Obi-Wan's bound form. The humanoid child's
pale face slowly darkened to a deep red and then to a purple as
the clawed hand squeezed the breath from it. The tiny hands
scrabbled at the hands around its throat. The bright green eyes
swelled and never blinked. Obi-Wan could hear the splatter when
the child's muscle control left it.
"Protect the innocent, Jedi."
Released from the bonds, he crawled, slamming against unseen
walls in panic, trying desperately to avoid the slim metal
pole, which unerringly found its mark. Crack! A hipbone went
and he still crawled. Snap! A shoulder blade and he curled into
a corner, shielding his face. First one toe and then the next,
systematically shattered. Obi-Wan had forgotten how many bones
were in a man's back -- so many fucking bones.
"There is no passion, Jedi."
He watched as the hooded man walked forward holding a dagger
which shone an emerald green. Obi-Wan struggled and the man's
progress never faltered. The slim blade entered his eye, slowly
deflating it, sending hot liquid pouring down his cheek as
Obi-Wan screamed.
"Find the Light, Jedi."
The hammer slammed down on a cheekbone. Obi-Wan moaned. His
chin was next, the jawbone swinging loose. The salt-water tears
stung. The lips took the next blow, swelling against the
shattering remains of his teeth.
"Speak only the truth, Jedi."
Again and again the terror washed over Obi-Wan. Again and
again he was dropped into an unbearable well of pain. Again and
again he returned to his darkness.
This darkness felt familiar, softer. His breath caught in his
throat as a smell came to him, a familiar smell of musk and the
Temple gardens at midnight that meant safety and home. That
smell had been beside him on a hundred missions. It lived in
the folds of the cloak he had followed down more hallways and
twisted streets than he could remember. The last happy memory
he had, that scent had surrounded him, filled him.
Obi-Wan struggled to a sitting position, screaming as the
shattered bones ground together, struggling to stay conscious.
His soul ached towards that smell, needed it to comfort him, to
surround him, to heal him.
"Mas...Master? Master, is that you?" Obi-Wan jerked to hear
his voice, broken and reedy, not at all like he remembered. He
spat out another mouthful of blood and shards of teeth.
Then, the one voice he needed to hear floated to him.
"Padawan, where are you? I can't see you. Are you here?"
"Master! Master! I am here. I'm here, Master." Obi-Wan's head
pounded, an irregular thundering which shook his entire body.
"Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan? Are you in here, Padawan?" The voice, gruff
and stoic, but still desperately familiar, moved away and
Obi-Wan, in agony, moved toward it. The blood trailed behind
him, a wet mark of his passage.
"Master. I'm here. Why· why can't you find me? I'm
here. I'm in this room· can't you hear me?"
"Obi-Wan, love, I can't feel you. Why have you closed yourself
off to me? Don't you love me, Obi?" That voice was full of
regret, a depth of sadness.
"Master. I can't · I can't find you. It hurts, Master.
I can't feel the bond anymore. I·I've lost it· "
Obi-Wan couldn't even remember how the bond felt, where his
center was. The Force song was impossibly distant, outsung by
the constant cacophony of pain.
"A true Padawan would not allow his bond to break so easily,
you know. Of course, I always knew you shouldn't be trained." A
single tear fell from the one unmarked eye, running haphazardly
through the filth and open sores.
"No, Master. I didn't·I wouldn't·I wouldn't
break the bond. Please·please, Qui-Gon. I love you.
I·"
"Perhaps it would be best to leave you. Let you stay hidden.
If you want to live like a coward, so be it."
"Master! Master! No! Don't go! Don't leave me here in the
dark! Please! I'm..."
A voice, so close, right there, next to his ear. Close enough
Obi-Wan imagined he could feel the warm breath move the hairs
next to his braid. "You're what, Padawan?"
"I'm scared, Master."
A desperation filled the tones, somehow more frightening than
the pain. His master was never scared. Never. "Find me,
Obi-Wan. Be strong and come to me. Don't make me leave you in
this place."
Obi-Wan reached out to the voice, to his love, to his master.
The familiar pain danced around him and what comfort he had
sensed dissipated. He struggled, body arched, mouth open in a
scream that could not be released. For his love, he fought the
pain but lost.
As he crumpled to the floor, something deep within Obi-Wan
Kenobi shattered and he closed his eyes and waited for the
darkness to engulf him.
He was dying. The seizures had started about two hours ago,
deep, bone-wracking jerks of arms and legs. The blood trickled
steadily from his nose and ears, staining his coppery hair. His
breath was now coming in pants, which created a stark lack of
rhythm.
Obi-Wan was dying.
The worst thing was his eyes. Qui-Gon had rushed up to his
padawan when the first seizure had started and Obi-Wan's
eyelids had rolled up, exposing the eyes rolling about in their
sockets. Qui-Gon had always loved how Obi-Wan's eyes reflected
his moods, his desires, his humor. This rolling, pointless set
of empty green eyes, they could not belong to the same man
Qui-Gon knew.
"My Obi-Wan is dying. Dying." Qui-Gon had almost reached the
point where he was willing to simply grab Obi-Wan and M'lss and
make a dash for the ship. The soldiers were still milling
around, but, since the city was all but destroyed, it would be
a simple thing to safely return to the ship and take off. Maybe
once they reached Coruscant, the Healers could do
something·
"Master Jinn. I· I talked to Nan, Master Jinn. She says
I have to get the Young Jedi out right now." The tiny girl was
paler than Qui-Gon had imagined she could be. She had been
staring at the fabric since the morning, trying to intuit some
way to extricate Obi-Wan from the Web.
"How did you talk to her?"
"Sometimes, when we really look at the Weaving and listen
really hard, we can hear the voices of those that went before
us. I was looking and I heard Nan."
"And?" Qui-Gon bent down, looking M'lss in the eye.
"And she said I have to get him out. She said he'll die if we
leave him in any longer. She said that I am to be the Marshon
D'lth and I have to free him and take up the strands she left
behind." The tiny voice trembled, but there was a new intensity
within it, a calm.
"M'lss, how can we get him out?"
Her dark eyelashes drooped, brushing softly against her
scabbed cheeks. "Nan said to finish off the Weaving. She said
that'll set him free."
"What about the darker places on the weave, M'lss?" Qui-Gon
glanced over at the creeping stains that were taking up more
and more of the rectangular piece, forming a swell of
turbulence within a previously calm blue-green material. The
longer they waited, the further the swells spread, leaching
away beauty and calm.
M'lss shrugged. "I don't know, Master Jedi. Nan is so far
away; her voice is disappearing. I could just barely hear her
talking before, but now, now it's been too long. Maybe the
stain will lift. Perhaps the Young Jedi will burn his cloth
when he awakens."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and cast about for an answer. If the
Darkness was released with his padawan, it could be fought. The
thought of the foul taint being somehow captured within Obi-Wan
caused the Jedi master to feel ill. "Better to be dead than
turned, Jinn. Obi-Wan will not thank you for sacrificing his
Light for his body." Qui-Gon fought the internal voice back,
wincing at the thought.
At that moment, Obi-Wan's body began to convulse, arms and
legs jerking, head bobbing. A long, low moan broke from the
tortured man's lips, bouncing along the ceiling. Blood-tinged
tears began to slip from the fluttering eyes. Qui-Gon looked
over at M'lss.
"What can I do to help you?"
"You'll need to help him when I'm finished. His body will be
very sick and his mind has been quiet too long. Don't worry
about helping me. Just help him." M'lss shrugged off the
comfort of the dark cloak she had been huddling in, handing the
cloth to the Jedi. Nodding her head towards the trembling body,
she added, "For him, he'll need it. His clothing, equipment, it
was taken. He will need the warmth."
"You're a very strong girl, you know that." The Jedi Master
folded his cloak absently.
"Master Jedi·" M'lss sighed.
"Qui-Gon."
"Master Qui-Gon, I am who I must be. I am only as strong as
the life I weave." Qui-Gon felt a movement in the timbre of her
voice as the child pronounced the words. She turned toward the
Loom and crawled up to the Weave. The Force swirled around her
and, in Qui-Gon's eyes at least, she began to shimmer with a
gentle, but bright light.
M'lss worked, her tiny hands and feet moving so quickly that
they blurred. Qui-Gon focused on his padawan, feeling the
energies swirl around him as his bodily functions and controls
were returned to a condition closer to normal. As the day wore
on, Obi-Wan's body lowered onto the cot beneath him and Qui-Gon
cocooned him within the cloak.
The simple tunic M'lss wore was dark with sweat and her hair
was plastered to her head. She hummed tunelessly as she worked,
brows knit and pink lips pursed. Qui-Gon noticed that her
fingers began to bleed, but she brushed him angrily away when
he'd tried to bandage them. That gentle light that M'lss held
slowly strengthened, only fluctuating when she dealt with the
disruption within the cloth.
The humming began to slowly take on form and Qui-Gon was
captured as the song, the rhythm of her weaving and her
energies pulsated together, each drawing power from the other.
Qui-Gon sat monitoring Obi-Wan for hours. Obi-Wan's skin took
on a yellowish cast. Qui-Gon wetted the parched lips with a
damp rag and administered the limited painkillers, antibiotics
and vitamins he had in his field triage kit.
Slowly, the seizures stopped and Qui-Gon began to see deep
black bruises forming underneath the skin. Finally, M'lss
dropped her hands to her waist, blood flowing freely. She
picked up the square piece of cloth, either not caring or not
noticing how her blood seeped into it, and spread it over the
moaning, shuddering Obi-Wan.
"It's done. He's free. Take him to your ship."
"To the ship? M'lss, he's too weak to travel·" Qui-Gon
stepped forward, a frown shadowing his face. "I'm not going to
be able to move him so quickly." Obi-Wan was obviously deeply
injured, becoming more agitated and agonized, his breath coming
in short pants and low moans. Worst of all, Qui-Gon could feel
no awareness within Obi-Wan. Force energies swirled around his
padawan, but they were unhinged, random.
M'lss looked up at him and Qui-Gon stopped dead in his tracks.
The light that Qui-Gon had observed had coalesced into a
visible glow, the energy pouring off her. The girl's deep brown
eyes had changed to a crisp, icy blue that flashed and flared
with determination. "Take him to your ship, Jedi. He is free.
He has his cloth."
"M'lss·"
"I am the Marshon D'lth, as was my grandmother before me.
M'lss is gone into the Web. Take him to your ship so you may
heal that which is broken. I must begin to heal my people."
Qui-Gon was hit forcefully by the sheer command behind that
soft voice. He bent down and gathered Obi-Wan in his arms
almost before he realized what he was doing. "What about the
armies, Marshon? What about the Dark man?"
"Jedi, we will survive as we have survived for eons."
"I can't just leave you here to face him alone. It is my
duty·"
"Jedi, it is your duty to keep that young man alive. I am not
alone. My people are not alone and the Darkness cannot survive
when exposed to the Light. Take my plight to your Republic, if
you would help and tell them of the atrocities performed here."
Qui-Gon was tempted to smile in the face of such a deliberate
dismissal.
"I am indebted to the N'sha and grateful to the Marshon D'lth
for her Weaving. I will take up your cause in the Senate."
"The N'sha offer their gifts freely, Jedi."
With that Qui-Gon started for the door with his precious
cargo, looking back only once to say softly, "Thank you,
M'lss."
The Jedi Master turned and ran for his ship. He never saw the
pleased smile that appeared on the Marshon D'lth's face as she
whispered, "Be safe, Master Jedi, Young Jedi. Take my
blessing."
Qui-Gon Jinn could see the ship, seemingly unmolested, barely
hidden on the outskirts of town. Although he felt waves of
aggression and instability rocketing through the town, he
hadn't seen many soldiers. The town had seemed deserted by all
but a single unit and those soldiers were heavily armed and
extremely wary. It had taken him almost an hour to sneak
through town, cradling Obi-Wan to his chest, smothering the
young man's low, deep moans in the folds of his cloak.
Qui-Gon's burden was distressingly light, the skin stretched
tight over bones.
As they crouched within a mostly burned home, Qui-Gon did
another quick scan of the area. The night was silent; a gentle
breeze stirring the ashes and the remains of what Qui-Gon
imagined was once a young child's doll. Obi-Wan jerked
restlessly, muttering nonsense, reminding Qui-Gon of the need
to get him away from this chaos and into a medical unit. Using
the Force to augment both his energy and his sense of balance,
the Jedi Master broke away from the relative shelter of the
edge of town.
Shoulders protectively hunched and tensed against potential
attacks, he ran across to the ship, lowering the shields via
remote. Boarding quickly, Qui-Gon moved through the transport
ship, gently laying Obi-Wan on a cot in the tiny medical bay
with a soft stroke to the sweating brow. Obi-Wan was very pale
and his face was deeply bruised, a thin trickle of blood
staining the corner of his mouth. Covering the skeletal body
with a blanket, Qui-Gon hurried to prepare for lift-off.
As the ship took off, Qui-Gon looked at the rapidly
diminishing planet. He was leaving a little girl alone with a
dying people on a planet full of hostile soldiers, but Qui-Gon
couldn't believe that bringing M'lss with him would have saved
the N'sha. He knew, with a decisiveness that surprised even
him, that if they had stayed, Obi-Wan would not have survived.
The simple truth was the thought of leaving his padawan to die
on that planet was more than he could face. Exhausted and
overwhelmed, he bowed his head over the ship's controls and set
their course for Coruscant.
Once the ship reached hyperspace, Qui-Gon turned back to the
medical unit. Obi-Wan's arms and legs moved constantly, as if
in denial of the months his body had remained so still. Qui-Gon
began the process to rehydrate his padawan, slowly introducing
intravenous fluids, hoping not to overload his abused system.
Obi-Wan's body was covered in blackening bruises, as if he had
been hit repeatedly with a blunt object. Qui-Gon had never seen
someone who appeared so thoroughly beaten. There were bruises
in the webbing of his fingers, his earlobes; even his testicles
were swollen and dark. Qui-Gon could only hope that Obi-Wan's
internal injuries were not so severe.
Qui-Gon administered a gentle analgesic to help cut the pain
his knew his padawan was feeling. The monitors showed the young
Jedi's body was seriously injured, but beginning the healing
process. Obi-Wan's energies where still unfocused, moving in
the random non-pattern that Qui-Gon had noticed once his
padawan had been freed from the Web. Slowly, he touched the
broken ends of the training bond he shared with Obi-Wan,
seeking some sense of awareness. The Jedi master couldn't feel
what he normally recognized as Obi-Wan, but there was an
awareness there. Qui-Gon bathed that intelligence with his love
and healing Force.
When Qui-Gon's mind brushed against that awareness, Obi-Wan's
body jerked violently and then stiffened. His eyes popped open
and focused for a long moment on the ceiling above him. As
Qui-Gon continued to pour healing Force through him, Obi-Wan
began a murmuring that slowly ballooned itself into a
continuous hoarse screaming.
Having sunk himself into his healing, Qui-Gon found himself
caught within a maelstrom of terror and panic. The emotions
buffeted Qui-Gon's awareness, attempted to knock him
off-center. He forced the panic away, searching for a
motivation, a reason for Obi-Wan's fear. There wasn't even
anything here Qui-Gon could recognize as intelligence. It was
as if he were drowning in this harsh emotion which lacked a
will or motive. As he gathered himself to pull away, the
emotion rose to an unbearable pitch and then abruptly stilled.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes, stunned, as his padawan's screams died
away.
Qui-Gon watched as the young body relaxed and the bruised eyes
closed. Obi-Wan then continued his odd, swimming motions.
"Force! What was that, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon checked the
intravenous lines and monitors, assuring himself that Obi-Wan's
movements hadn't knocked anything loose.
As he ran his large hands over the stick-thin arms, Qui-Gon
noticed the thin sheen of sweat that covered Obi-Wan's body,
causing the grime to settle into a sticky paste. Getting a
warm, damp cloth, Qui-Gon slowly began to wash his padawan's
face and body. As he washed his love, Qui-Gon spoke to Obi-Wan,
carefully watching for any reaction.
"Oh, my Obi-Wan· wake up for me. I want you to look at
me, to see me. We're on our way back to the Temple. Master Yoda
will be waiting to talk to you. Your friends will want to see
you, to find out what you've been up to. Come on Obi-Wan, open
those eyes and look at me.
"Come now, Padawan, how can I wash your arms when you move
them around so? Ah, I remember that scar, do you? You were
sparring with Andar, that tall scaly padawan, the one who likes
rhodian berries. He was teasing you, moving into katas you
didn't know. Remember? When he flipped into the air, you tried
to follow· I was so frustrated with you· you knew
that was too hard, but you did it anyway. When you hit the
ground and I heard the crunch, I just knew you'd broken that
arm. Then, when you stood, bleeding, I knew you needed to see
the healers immediately. I called out to you, told you to
forfeit. But would you stop? No, not my Obi-Wan, you gathered
the Force around you, set those lips and finished that kata.
"Did you know the healers carped at me for a week, Padawan?
That the Council called me on it. They wanted to know how I
could have allowed it. Why I did not prevent it. I should have
stopped you, controlled you? Give me your leg, Obi-Wan. Good.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, I should have stopped you, should
have kept you from danger, but I couldn't. Do you know why,
Padawan? I was so stunned by your beauty, by your grace, by
your Light that I was distracted by you.
"I think, when you get back, we may have to spend quite a bit
of time in the dining hall. You've lost some weight with your
adventure. When you wake up, I think we should find something
painfully rich and decadent. Maybe something with chocolate?
Oh, or that hideous confection Master Gallia makes with those
berries·
"I'm going to turn you over now, Padawan. Gently now. Your
poor back, so bruised. I'll be gentle, Obi-Wan, but you need to
be cleaned. You don't even smell like my Obi-Wan anymore. I'm
going to get you well, my love, and then together we're going
to find out what happened to us. I need you to help, Obi-Wan. I
need you to try and come back to me.
"Your hair has grown some. I think I like it longer. Sometimes
at night I dream about how you will look as a Jedi Knight.
Whether you will grow your hair until it drapes over your
shoulders. Will you grow a beard to hide that cleft in your
chin? Do you know I have dreamt of your hair falling around me,
intermingling with mine as we kiss?
"How many times have I braided this for you? It fills me with
joy every time. To know of your dedication to the Order, to the
truth, is my greatest satisfaction. I keep waiting for and
dreading the day when you will kneel before me and I will sever
it, marking your rank, your achievements.
"Okay, Obi-Wan. I brought some of your clothes with me. I
brought the tunic Bant brought you from Alastia and I brought
the green workout pants, the comfortable ones that you like to
lounge around in.
"Do you remember the last time you wore them? We were having a
good day, a day of rest. You were watching some holovid and
laughing at the plot. You looked so happy, so carefree. I
pretended to read, but I watched you, basked in your happiness.
"Here Obi-Wan, I need to sit you up so that I can put this on
you. Give me your hand Obi-Wan, come on. That's right, I need
to get this on you so you won't be cold.
"Can you hear me, Padawan? You're free. M'lss got you out and
I'm taking you home. Obi-Wan, I'm going to lie down here next
to you, all right? Keep you warm?"
This constant chatter and murmuring lasted until Qui-Gon
curled his large frame around the wiggling body on the bed.
Qui-Gon slowly rested his head upon the pillow, gently brushing
his lips across Obi-Wan's temple.
"Good night, beloved."
In the darkness of space, they slept.
The screaming began thirty-nine standard hours from Coruscant.
Qui-Gon was finishing his report to the Council, trying to
explain a situation that he was quite sure he didn't
understand. Obi-Wan hadn't stopped the strange movements,
hadn't woken, hadn't spoken except for the outburst the first
night on the ship. His physical status was still critical, but
slowly improving. As soon as they came out of hyperspace, the
Jedi master would send the communication along with a detailed
message for the waiting healers.
The noise blasted through the ship, ricocheting down the tiny
walkways and slamming into Qui-Gon's unsuspecting ears. He was
on his feet, racing for Obi-Wan before he was consciously aware
of what the noise was.
As Qui-Gon rounded the corner, he was stunned at the level of
chaos that filled the normally sterile med unit. Equipment was
scattered throughout the room, bedclothes shredded. Even the
bed had moved across the tiny room. Obi-Wan was sitting in the
bed, blood running from his nose, spine ramrod straight. His
face, greyed in panic, seemed to shrink as his mouth gaped open
and he screamed. Qui-Gon rushed to him, heedless of the
minefield of debris, and enfolded the stiff body within his
arms.
"Hush, Obi-Wan. I'm here. It's okay. Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon rocked
his padawan, trying to calm him. Small pieces of broken
equipment spun around the bed, surrounding them. Qui-Gon tried
to engulf the shaking man within his arms. Still, Obi-Wan
screamed.
Qui-Gon sent a wave of Force energy meant to soothe the
distressed man and was nearly knocked to the floor by the
violent surge that blasted from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon shook his
head. He reached out wanting to turn Obi-Wan's face towards
him, needing to make some eye contact. As Qui-Gon touched him,
the screaming escalated, becoming a wail.
Qui-Gon leaned forward, bringing his head close to Obi-Wan's,
allowing the Force to fill his voice. "Padawan, listen·
listen to me!" When there was no response, nothing but that
incessant wailing, Qui-Gon added a harsher Force command to his
words. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, stop this! Listen to me!"
At that, Qui-Gon was physically lifted off the bed and into
the air. His body spun, caught up in a mini-whirlwind of fury.
Qui-Gon could feel Force blows attacking him, pummeling him.
Suddenly, he was released, body flying across the room and
slamming into the wall. He hit the floor, walls still
reverberating with Obi-Wan's screams. The Jedi master tried to
stand, to go to his padawan, when the blows began again,
steady, glancing blows which were at once utterly random and
eerily accurate.
Qui-Gon slowly backed away from the medical unit, crawling out
into the hall. His head was spinning and he felt as if he had
just fought in a war. "What in the Sith Hells was that? What is
he doing?" The screaming battered against Qui-Gon, both
physically and mentally. His shields were wavering, not used to
protecting him against his padawan's mind.
Qui-Gon started to head back into the room, needing to assuage
the anguish he could feel pouring off Obi-Wan. As soon as he
entered the room, the attacks began again, forcing him to
retreat. He stood outside the open door, breathing heavily,
feeling dull aches begin in his lower back and chest. Obi-Wan
sat on the bed, hands clenched at his sides, braid whipping
violently, actually marking his face. Qui-Gon watched him for a
moment, noting the stillness of his body, the muscles tensed as
if in combat.
The Jedi master frowned deeply and sank down onto his knees.
A single drop of blood had fallen onto his outer tunic, the
fluid staining the cloth a bright red. Qui-Gon stared at it,
breathing deeply and forcing himself to relax, to ignore the
pain and anguish pouring off the tortured mind in the next
room. As he found that center that held him solid, Qui-Gon
constructed a strong shield within his mind. Once he was
adequately protected, the Jedi master cast a tendril of Force
towards his apprentice, baiting him. Once the blow came,
Qui-Gon went on the offensive, grabbing the energy that
emanated from Obi-Wan and following it, deep within Obi-Wan's
mind.
The despair within Obi-Wan was palpable. Qui-Gon's mind was
filled with disjointed images of pain and torture, of loss and
regret. Qui-Gon attempted to make some sense of what he was
seeing, trying to recognize any of these memories.
/Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, can you hear me?/ Suddenly, the swirling
images stilled, frozen.
/Qui-Gon?/ The Jedi master almost laughed with the joy of
hearing his padawan's voice again.
/Yes, Padawan, it's me. I need you to·/
/So, you found me? I thought you didn't waste your time on
cowards./ The bitterness inherent in that tone sent chills
through Qui-Gon.
/What? Padawan, what are you talking about?/
/You don't waste your time on cowards! Remember?/
/Padawan! Listen to me, I need you to wake up. Do you
understand? You're dreaming and I need you to wake up!/
/I am NOT a coward!/ The voice was screaming, harsh and
without control.
/No, of course not, Obi-Wan. Don't be ridiculous. You're one
of the bravest men I know. Please Padawan, I need you to wake
up./
Suddenly an image coalesced before Qui-Gon. It was Obi-Wan,
but he was hideously disfigured, naked and bloody, a moist,
empty space where a green eye should be. The other eye glared
through Qui-Gon furiously. The body swayed, long bones twisted
and broken, one arm nearly severed. The lower jaw floated,
unhinged. Qui-Gon withdrew himself slightly, horrified at this
caricature of the man he loved.
/What's the matter, Master?/ The voice was sibilant now, full
of a seductive brutality. /Don't you want me, Master? Am I not
beautiful enough for you, now?/
Qui-Gon's mind reeled as he thought, "This isn't real. He's
sitting in that bed, bruised but whole. Remember that, Jinn.
He's dreaming."
Qui-Gon spoke gently to this phantom image before him, pouring
the love and desire he felt for Obi-Wan into his voice. /Of
course I want you, Obi-Wan. But you're sick. You need to heal.
Padawan, please. You need to wake up for me./
The abused man sank to his knees and the grind as the broken
bones rubbed together was enough to make the Jedi master wince.
Qui-Gon felt nauseated as bloody tears began to run out of
Obi-Wan's remaining eye. /You didn't find me in time, you know
that, don't you? I waited for you. I tried to find you but you
wouldn't wait and I was scared./
/I know you did. You're so brave, Padawan./ Qui-Gon's mind
rushed, trying to understand what was happening here. What did
this broken image mean? /Padawan, can you try to wake up? Try
to open your eyes./
/Why? Why should I listen to you? You lied to me. You used me.
You left me there. You're supposed to be my friend. You're
supposed to protect me, teach me and you let me go!/ The mental
voice was escalating and the stilled images began to move
again, picking up speed. Qui-Gon fought down the bile in his
throat as a long gash between Obi-Wan's ribs split and black
fluid began to drip steadily.
/Padawan! I did not leave you. I would never leave you.
Obi-Wan, I love you./
Obi-Wan's broken, bloodied face rushed up to fill Qui-Gon's
mind. He could almost smell the blood and filth that his
padawan was covered in. The empty socket was dark and damp, a
sharp contrast to the bright green of the eye that captured
him. When the mouth opened, Qui-Gon could see ragged nubs where
Obi-Wan's strong white teeth should have been.
/You love me? That's amazing! When did this 'love' of yours
start? Was it when you told me my love was inappropriate? Or
wait, was it when you shut down our bond? No, I think I've
figured it out· was it when I became one of your
'pathetic lifeforms?' I don't think so, 'Master.' I am not a
coward. I don't need your pity. Keep it for yourself./
Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt himself firmly thrown out of Obi-Wan's
mind. When he opened his eyes, he felt drained and dirty. As he
tried to focus on what had just happened, he noticed the
silence surrounding him. He looked up and saw Obi-Wan, sitting
on the bed, looking blankly at the wall before him.
"Padawan? Can you hear me?" Qui-Gon stood and went to the
doorway, holding his breath as Obi-Wan turned to face him.
Qui-Gon carefully stepped into the room, prepared for the
worst.
Obi-Wan simply stared at the disheveled Jedi.
"Padawan? Obi-Wan? Can you speak?" Qui-Gon tested their bond,
his brows furrowing. It felt almost· dead. "Please,
Obi-Wan. Try to say something. Let me know you're here."
Obi-Wan's chin firmed and he sighed deeply. When he spoke, his
voice was rough and raspy with a peculiar flatness.
"I am here, Master."
Then Obi-Wan laid back, rolled over and closed his eyes,
leaving his master to salvage what he could from the chaos
Obi-Wan's awakening had left behind.
Archive
