“Master, you do realize the palace has a staff to do this sort of thing,” Obi-Wan muttered as he worked. He wiped his glistening forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of reddish mud.
“Yes, Padawan, I do realize that.” Qui-Gon glanced up from where he was kneeling and smiled pleasantly. “Fortunately, they were gracious enough to allow us this privilege.”
“Privilege.” Obi-Wan sat back on his heels, and displayed his scratched and filthy hands. “This is a privilege?”
“Of course it is! This is a pleasure. It is a tangible affirmation of the cycle of life. And a healthy reminder that we are one with nature, something too easily forgotten.”
“We’re one with the dirt at any rate. You should see yourself.”
Qui-Gon ignored his comment, and continued working contentedly. “Wait ‘til we get to the good part, Obi-Wan. Pulling these dead vines is just the beginning. We’re laying a foundation for something truly beautiful here. Doesn’t that excite you?”
“Oh, I’m beyond excitement, Master,” was Obi-Wan’s sullen reply.
“Stop grumbling and start pulling, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said lightly. The boy didn’t comply, choosing instead to stare with distaste at his hands and wipe them futilely on his sleeveless work tunic.
Qui-Gon sat up then, and pushed some loose strands of hair away from his face. He watched his Padawan mumble and fidget unhappily, until the boy finally felt the weight of his Master’s gaze.
Slowly, Obi-Wan looked up. ‘Oh, here we go,’ he thought.
Qui-Gon was sitting comfortably on the ground, his elbow resting on one grass-stained and mud-caked knee. Much of his long hair had come loose from its binding, and his tunic and bare arms were streaked with red soil.
His apprentice had to swallow a laugh at how very different his Master looked from the dignified teacher and diplomat he was used to seeing. And yet... Qui-Gon looked completely in his element, at ease in his own -- rather filthy -- skin.
“Obi-Wan, pick up that bush.” He gave a slight nod toward it. “Hold it. Tell me what you feel.”
‘Whatever,’ thought Obi-Wan. He reached for the potted Alderaanian rose bush nearest him.
“Now concentrate. And tell me what you feel.”
“....I feel... stupid,” said Obi-Wan and was simultaneously chagrined and amused by the exasperated look Qui-Gon gave him.
“You’re not even trying, Padawan. Touch it. Touch the leaves, the petals, and tell me what you feel.”
He did as he was told. “I feel... uh... leaves... and petals... and... aaugh! Sith, these thorns are sharp!” He stuck his fingertip in his mouth, instantly regretting the impulse as he tasted dirt on his tongue. He scowled at Qui-Gon’s look of disappointment. “Well?” he said defiantly. “What else was I supposed to feel? Besides hot, sweaty, and dirty?”
“You have earned an extra two hours of meditation tonight for speaking rudely to me,” said Qui-Gon mildly. “But to answer your question. I had hoped you would feel... awe. I hoped you would feel life! If I were to hold that rose in my hands I would feel it pulsing with life. Even the thorns are part of its incredible beauty, Obi-Wan.” He gestured at the lush gardens that stretched around them. “Look around you and see. There is power here, Padawan.” He paused, searching for comprehension in his student’s face, and then breathed out a sigh. “I’m sorry you can’t feel that.”
Obi-Wan dropped his eyes, feeling totally at a loss, and wishing he could somehow redeem himself. He looked down at Qui-Gon’s amazing rose bush and tried to work up some passion for it. Yeah, it was pretty, and of course it was alive, why else would they bother planting it. ‘Well, say something,’ Obi-Wan told himself.
“It... smells nice...,” he attempted weakly, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes.
“Yes, it has a beautiful scent. Look, Obi-Wan. Why don’t you go inside and get cleaned up. Begin your studies now, so you have time for your extra meditations.”
Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to go take a long shower, but he was eager to make up for his sad lack of horticultural appreciation. “Let me help you finish, Master, there’s so much left to do.”
“No, Padawan, go ahead. I know you’re not enjoying this. Besides, I *am* having fun and you’re spoiling it. I’d prefer to plant this rose bed in peace, without you muttering next to me. We have two days of freedom until the official signing of the treaty. Let’s spend them well. This is what I want to do this afternoon.” He smiled serenely. “And I’ve decided that more than anything you want to study and meditate.”
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan sighed.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now go. I’ll be in in a few hours.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And Obi-Wan? I’ve also decided you want to take a walk through the palace grounds on your way back to our quarters. You want to take some time, and see if you can start to understand what I spoke of earlier. It’s the Living Force, my young Padawan. Open yourself to it.”
“I’ll try, Master.”
Qui-Gon grinned. “Obi-Wan....”
“’There is no try,’” the two Jedi recited together, and they laughed.
Obi-Wan stood at the open window in the palace suite he shared with his Master. The elegant rooms had been their home during the two weeks of intense but successful treaty negotiations between the royal house of Palar and its neighboring planet, Paenya.
The two factions had accomplished much together before requesting Jedi mediation, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan found themselves stimulated and challenged during the final negotiation talks. The resulting treaty had struck an excellent balance, playing to the strengths of both sides and meeting their specific needs as well. The newly created joint government would undoubtedly be a model for planets in other star systems. It had been a fulfilling process for everyone involved, and Obi-Wan felt proud of what had been accomplished.
As usual Obi-Wan’s role had been primarily as an observer, and as Qui-Gon’s behind-the-scenes aide. He had assisted with research and writing, and had helped his Master plan strategy and prepare for bargaining sessions. Sometimes he yearned for a more active role during the sessions, yet observing Qui-Gon in action had been a particular pleasure during this mission.
At the talks, both sides of the table had been well informed, articulate, and intelligent, and the discussions themselves often became intricate philosophical and political debates. Qui-Gon had mediated with a perfect touch. His grasp of the motives, goals and philosophies of each side was flawless, and he guided the sessions with a grace and diplomacy that awed Obi-Wan. The boy felt fortunate to be learning from the remarkably skilled Jedi, but inevitably he found himself doubting his own ability to measure up to his role model.
One night he’d asked Qui-Gon what made him such an effective mediator. Qui-Gon didn’t demur. He replied that study and preparation were vital to success; and yet the real key lay in attention. In awareness. Perception. Empathy. In short, the key was to be mindful of the Living Force.
Obi-Wan gazed out the window at the palace gardens below, and smiled. Whether at the bargaining table or in a flowerbed, his Master was fully tuned to the Living Force.
As instructed, Obi-Wan had strolled slowly through the gardens before coming in to shower and study. It had been a lovely walk, truly. But he knew he was missing something, something elusive that effected his Master deeply. Something that was the source both of passion and peace for him. In many ways, it was a dichotomy that perfectly defined Qui-Gon.
Below him, through the trees to his right, Obi-Wan could catch a glimpse of his Master, still hard at work. Qui-Gon had finished clearing away the vines and preparing the soil, and was busy planting the third of the six bushes. The sun shone on his broad back as he bent to shape the soil around the rose with expert hands. ‘The gardeners must be delighted,’ chuckled Obi-Wan, ‘how often does a palace guest ask to do their work for them?’
Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt for having left Qui-Gon alone to his task. With a delicate touch, he reached out through their bond to sense his mood, and he perceived complete contentment and serenity from his Master. ‘How does he do that?’ wondered Obi-Wan. ‘Unless I’m meditating really well, I almost always feel... a little restless. Eager to finish one thing, anxious to begin another. Will I ever learn such patience?’
//Not without practice, Padawan,// came Qui-Gon’s reply, and Obi-Wan jumped with shock. //Now meditate.//
//I will, Master,// Obi-Wan sent to him as he calmed his breathing. //Perhaps a nice healing trance to recover from the heart attack you just gave me.//
Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon’s soft laughter echo from the garden below, and he smiled. He knelt in the breeze from the open window and prepared to meditate.
Three hours later, Obi-Wan felt his Master’s gentle presence join him in meditation. Silently, he welcomed Qui-Gon into his thoughts, and together they moved across the peaceful landscape of their shared awareness, both enveloped in the radiant power of the Force. After a time, they drifted slowly toward conventional consciousness.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see his Master kneeling before him, his head bowed closely to his own. The golden light of the lowering sun streamed through the window, gilding them both, and casting a glow across the room that enhanced Obi-Wan’s feeling of serenity. He gave a tranquil sigh. “Thank you, Master,” he said, “I like it when you meditate with me. I’m able to go so much deeper, see so much more. It’s extraordinary, really.”
“You help me, too, Obi-Wan,” said his Master, raising his head with an affectionate smile. “And it’s a pleasure to have your company on such a journey.”
They stood and stretched, Obi-Wan noting that his Master had showered and changed. “When did you come in?” he asked, “I didn’t hear you.”
“About an hour ago. You were meditating well,” Qui-Gon said with approval, “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
The young Jedi went to the window and gazed through the shimmering light and shadows toward the gardens below. “Your rose bed is lovely, Master. I’m sorry I wasn’t more helpful to you. And I apologize for my rudeness earlier.”
Qui-Gon laughed softly. “It’s not often you’re so impatient with me, my Padawan. Usually you’re anxious for lessons and eager to learn.”
Obi-Wan stared at him. “It was a lesson? Your lecture on the Living Force notwithstanding, I thought you were just dragging me along to play in the dirt.”
“Everything is a lesson, Obi-Wan, you should know that by now. Each experience offers knowledge of some kind, if you are open to it. If you embraced every experience with as much focus as you give your saber training, you’d be head of the Jedi High Council by now.”
Obi-Wan smirked. “Me, head of the Council at fourteen. What a success story! I guess that would make you the greatest Jedi Master in the history of the universe.”
“Well, we both know that’s not true, don’t we,” said Qui-Gon quietly, and Obi-Wan knew he was suddenly thinking of Xanatos.
Obi-Wan disliked it when his Master’s thoughts turned to his failed apprentice. It made him... nervous, as though the Qui-Gon he knew -- *his* Qui-Gon, the perfect diplomat, the powerful warrior, the warm and wise teacher -- might somehow disappear, leaving only the betrayed and guilty man that still seemed to hide inside him. The Padawan was young enough that he was a little unnerved by any sign of weakness in his Master. These glimpses of the self-recrimination Qui-Gon harbored always made Obi-Wan desperate to distract him, or to reassure him in some way.
He changed the subject. “Master, it’s a beautiful evening, and I’ve been inside most of the afternoon. I know, I know, it was by my own choice, but... could we go out tonight?”
Qui-Gon shook off the black shadow that had passed over him, and smiled. He knew his apprentice was trying to cheer him, and he wanted to accommodate. “Why certainly, Obi-Wan. What would you like to do?”
Well...,” the boy hesitated. He was about to ask for his favorite thing, and didn’t want to sound over-eager. “Maybe we could go somewhere and duel? Because I could use the exercise, and the fresh air is nice....”
“Ah, fresh air and exercise. Very healthy. How could I refuse you? And I think I know just where to go.”
“Oh, Master! It’s breathtaking!”
“I knew you would like it. I thought of you the other day when the ambassador brought me here.”
The two Jedi stood near the rough edge of the cliff, gazing out over the Great Sea of Palar, which stretched endlessly before them. Far below, the surf pounded the rocky shore, and the noise was thrilling. The sky was almost too beautiful to bear. A brilliant display of color framed the sun, which was bright red and very low on the horizon. The sea itself was a deep, clear green, but each crystalline wave was tinted with dazzling orange from the sun’s glow.
Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine a more majestic view. He tore his eyes away long enough to give his Master an awestruck smile, then turned back to watch the sun drop swiftly and gloriously into the sea.
As the sky became muted with dusk, Obi-Wan finally spoke, with reverence. “Thank you, Master. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome,” said Qui-Gon simply, gratified by his Padawan’s appreciation. After a moment, he said, “You will visit a hundred worlds as a Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan. It can be trying. At times tiring. Seek out the things that restore your soul.”
“Ahh...,” Obi-Wan said slowly, “Like sunsets. And rose gardens. And dueling with your Padawan!” He drew and ignited his lightsaber in a smooth and overly elaborate motion. Qui-Gon laughed and drew his own weapon. The blue and green blades seemed especially vibrant in the rapidly dimming light of dusk, and the sound of their clashing seemed to echo the crash of waves far below.
Obi-Wan was exhilarated. He felt rested from his meditations, inspired by his dramatic surroundings, and challenged by his Master, who was fighting with more power than he usually allowed himself in their practice sessions. Qui-Gon didn’t seem to be holding back as much, and it made Obi-Wan proud to be taken as a worthy opponent. He increased the velocity of his blows, and Qui-Gon responded, matching his rhythm and then, with a wicked smile, driving it faster still.
They moved with grace and astonishing speed over the rocky ground, surefooted and aware, and Obi-Wan felt as though he were flying. With a sudden laugh, he decided he would fly. He spun, blocked Qui-Gon’s thrust with a powerful swing, then leaped high, somersaulting with glee over his Master’s head.
//No. No! The angle is wrong!// Qui-Gon cried into the boy’s head, but it was too late.
Obi-Wan landed beautifully -- on the very lip of the cliff. He balanced there for a split second that seemed an eternity, the shock of his miscalculation registering on his face. Then suddenly he was gone.
Qui-Gon had reacted immediately, diving toward the cliff’s edge in desperation, but his grasping hand met only air as his Padawan disappeared from sight. “Obi-Wan!” he cried as he reached out with the Force, trying blindly to call the boy back to him as he would a fallen lightsaber.
But Obi-Wan’s soft cry of pain told Qui-Gon that he had landed in the dark and roaring shadows below. //Obi-Wan!// he called through their bond, and he was answered with a rush of suffering and shock that dizzied him. //Obi-Wan, I can’t see you. Answer me!//
//Master...// was the only reply, but Qui-Gon was grateful for it.
//I’m coming, Padawan. Don’t move! I’m coming.// Qui-Gon calmed himself and gathered the Force, using it to understand the shadowed and rocky terrain beneath him. He could sense that Obi-Wan was about nine meters below. On a ledge. Yes, there was a narrow ledge halfway down the cliff. He could drop to it. He nodded, encouraged.
Now. Prepare. He grabbed his comlink and called the palace for help, tersely explaining the situation and their remote location. Help was on the way. ‘Now let there be a medipac....’ he thought as he raced back to their borrowed speeder. Please, please... yes! He grabbed it, and one of their discarded robes, and ran.
Qui-Gon chose his place at the edge of the cliff. //Obi-Wan, I’m coming to you now. Stay still. Don’t be startled.// He closed his eyes, centered himself, and took a step.
He dropped with precision to the ledge below, his muscled legs absorbing the impact of the fall. Obi-Wan lay to his left. Dropping his things within reach, Qui-Gon moved quickly to kneel at the boy’s side. He placed gentle hands on his apprentice’s forehead and heart, feeling for the strength of his life force. Qui-Gon immediately shielded himself to betray no alarm. Obi-Wan’s heart beat steadily but very slowly, and he was weak -- and getting weaker. Qui-Gon's sensitive hands moved lightly over his Padawan’s body, assessing his condition.
Obi-Wan’s eyes opened lazily and he regarded Qui-Gon with mild confusion. “You’re... spinning,” he said thickly, “All three of you.” He smiled at his joke. “Ha ha,” he said, opting for something less painful than a real laugh.
“Yes, ha ha.” said Qui-Gon, stroking his Padawan’s short hair. “Obi-Wan, have you examined yourself? Do you know your injuries?”
“Well. I’ve been trying to do that,” he said slowly, concentrating on his words. “I can’t... really focus. I hit my head. It hurts. I think... my shoulder. My right shoulder. In my ribs... pain. Can’t breathe. And... my knee.”
“Okay, okay, that’s good,” soothed Qui-Gon, “I feel these things in you, too. You’ll be fine, I promise. Now listen.” He locked eyes with his Padawan. “You have a concussion. And you are in shock. You may be bleeding internally and you must not move, do you understand?” He drew the cloak over Obi-Wan to warm him. “I don’t want to make you drowsy with medication. Can you control the pain? I can help you.”
“Yes,” breathed Obi-Wan.
“Good. Now stay with me, Padawan. Stay awake. Help is on the way, but it will take them some time to get here. Stay with me.”
“Okay. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay.”
Qui-Gon smiled down at him reassuringly, and lay healing hands on the boy’s shoulder and ribcage, easing the pain. Obi-Wan’s teeth had begun to chatter from the shock, and Qui-Gon pulled a tightly folded thermal blanket from the medipac. He covered Obi-Wan with it, replacing the heavy cloak on top, and then he stretched out next to him, shielding him from the updraft of the pounding surf below. He lay a large hand on the side of Obi-Wan’s face, and sent him waves of warmth. The chills seemed to subside somewhat.
“You’re nice,” Obi-Wan murmured.
Qui-Gon felt his heart constrict. “Nice? Gods! Obi-Wan, I am so sorry.”
“Well...,” the boy’s brow furrowed with confusion. “...what?”
“I should have been more cautious, Padawan. That was a treacherous place to duel, and I was careless, I escalated the fight. For fun! I forgot myself. I’m very sorry.”
Obi-Wan tried to focus his half-closed eyes on his Master’s. “I... fell off the cliff. You talk like you pushed me! I fell!”
“Shhh....” Qui-Gon stroked his Padawan’s cheek, trying to calm him, yet keep him awake.
“You know, you do that,” Obi-Wan continued, his words slurring. He began to ramble. “You feel guilty. I don’t like it!” Qui-Gon stopped his shushing, and listened to the growing urgency in his apprentice‘s voice. “I can feel it through our bond sometimes. It’s scary. You’re strong and sure. You’re open. You’re so wise. Then you think about Xanatos, and you’re guilty and doubtful and sad. I don’t like it. You should stop it! You didn’t push him. He jumped! You know everything, Master, why don’t you know that?”
Stricken, Qui-Gon looked down at his Padawan’s serious face, so clouded with distress. He felt his eyes sting and his throat tighten, as he realized that he had been inflicting his private pain on this child who was so precious to him. “It scares you?” he whispered. Obi-Wan nodded slightly, and Qui-Gon stopped the movement with a hand. “Be still, Padawan,” he said softly.
Obi-Wan moistened his lips and swallowed, preparing to speak again. Qui-Gon leaned closer. “It was fun dueling with you tonight, Master. It’s my favorite thing. Did you see my flip?”
Qui-Gon nodded, and brushed his Padawan’s cheek with his thumb. “It was beautifully done, Obi-Wan. Just think about your trajectory next time, okay? And be mindful of the boundaries of the battlefield.”
Obi-Wan smiled, then winced as he tried to draw a breath. “I will. You’re the best swordsman in the galaxy, that’s what they say, you know. I’m glad you’re my teacher.”
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m glad you’re my learner. You mean a lot to me, my Padawan. And you teach me things, too.”
A low sound of amusement came from the boy. He gestured vaguely with his left hand. “I teach you? What? How to ignore the Living Force? How to be impatient? How to be clumsy, fall off a cliff?”
Qui-Gon shook his head. “Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Listen to me.” He captured his Padawan’s hand and pressed it to his heart. “You teach me things every day. Important things. Trust me.... Obi-Wan? Open your eyes, Padawan. Stay with me! Just a little longer, I promise. Obi-Wan!”
“I want to sleep.” It was barely a whisper.
“I know, but you mustn’t. Look at me. Look at me.” Obi-Wan fought to obey. Qui-Gon’s hand was on his temple, and he could feel a current of power entering him. “Help is here now. I sense them above. You stay with me, Obi-Wan. Keep your eyes on me.”
“...yes, Master....”
“Good.” Qui-Gon gave his hand a squeeze. “Now here they come. They’re going to immobilize you and lift you out. You’re going to be fine, Obi-Wan.”
“...yes, Master....”
Qui-Gon thanked the Force that the medical team allowed him to stay with Obi-Wan for the ride back to the palace. He had been prepared to “convince” them with a wave of his hand if need be, ethics be damned. The boy’s rescue had been difficult and painful, and Qui-Gon, standing impotently aside, had nearly been driven mad with helplessness. Obi-Wan’s cries of anguish tore at his soul, and he had tried, from a distance, to calm him through their bond. But his Padawan had become increasingly disoriented and frightened. Maintaining the connection with such a confused and agitated mind had been difficult and rather unpleasant for Qui-Gon.
But finally he had been able to take his place at Obi-Wan’s side in the back of the medical transport. As two medics worked quickly and efficiently to stabilize the boy, Qui-Gon lay a soothing hand on his Padawan’s brow and spoke softly to quiet him.
“Shh, calm down now, Obi-Wan, you’re doing well, you’re fine. Be calm.”
“...But... where? my Master... is my Master... where?” Qui-Gon felt his apprentice’s rising panic, and he leaned in closely, trying to focus the boy’s attention.
“I’m right here, Padawan, I’m with you now. It’s Qui-Gon, do you see me? I’m here with you.”
Obi-Wan looked blankly at him, then his face dissolved in misery. “Master!” he whispered with a sob, “I can’t find my lightsaber!”
“Ohh, Obi-Wan,” his Master said tenderly, “It’s all right, I have it, Padawan. Don’t worry.”
“I asked! They said they couldn’t find it! They said they couldn’t look!”
“No no, it’s here next to my own. Shhh, I found it. I’ll keep it for you.”
“You have it?” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened with relief. “You found it? Did I drop it? I think I dropped it.”
Qui-Gon smiled. “Yes, you dropped it, but it’s okay. It’s right here.”
Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh, good. Good. Don’t lose it.”
“I won’t lose it, I promise,” Qui-Gon laughed quietly, stroking his Padawan’s hair.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes tighter, frowning. “Don’t laugh.”
“Hmm?”
“Please stop laughing at me.”
“Obi-Wan, I’m not --”
“Oh gods, I fell off a cliff.”
“Obi-Wan --”
“I fell off a cliff! What was I doing? What was I thinking?”
“Padawan. Calm down.” Qui-Gon ordered.
“I FELL off a CLIFF.” Obi-Wan was nearly shouting now. “What kind of Jedi DOES that!”
“Keep him quiet....” warned one of the medics.
“And what are THEY doing to me? Stop them!”
“Obi-Wan, hush!” Qui-Gon’s voice was sharp. “They’re helping you. You can control the pain. You are a Jedi! Remember your training.”
“I can’t!”
“You can and you will.” Qui-Gon stood and placed both hands on Obi-Wan’s head, forcing him to be still and focus. “Look at me! Padawan, pay attention. Calm down. Now.”
Obi-Wan stared up helplessly at his Master’s stern face, and Qui-Gon watched him struggle for lucidity and control. Finally, the boy took a shallow, ragged breath. “I’m sorry, Master,” he whispered. “I will be calm.”
“Good.” He looked down intently, holding the boy’s gaze to be certain his moment of panic had ended. Eventually Qui-Gon nodded. “Good,” he said quietly. Obi-Wan seemed unable to speak. Then he closed his eyes, and Qui-Gon saw the tears escape. Silently, Qui-Gon brushed the dampness from his Padawan’s cheeks, and sat down. His hand sought Obi-Wan’s and he clasped it to him, pressing it to his lips, then cradling it to his heart.
They sat in silence then, Qui-Gon pouring as much strength and assurance into his Padawan as he could. He was exhausted. And he knew that Obi-Wan was desperately fighting sleep, and slowly losing the battle.
After a time, Qui-Gon caught the eye of one of the medics, and raised his eyebrows in inquiry. The man nodded, understanding, and murmured “It’s all right now. Let him go.”
Qui-Gon pressed the warm hand against his chest, and leaned in closely. He moved gentle fingers along his Padawan’s face and rested them in his hair, sending him a soothing wave of contentment. “Sleep now,” he said softly. Obi-Wan sighed in weak relief, and then faded into the comfort of unconsciousness.
Qui-Gon dragged a hand across his face, rubbed his eyes and sat up. He’d spent an uncomfortable night in the chair next to Obi-Wan’s bed, enduring a restless sleep filled with confused and vivid dreams. More than once, he’d jolted awake, desperate to find his Padawan in a dark and roaring void or to pull him from an endless plunge into nothingness. His worst nightmare had been of a laughing Xanatos, who stood mocking him, taunting him as he held a terrified Obi-Wan over a black abyss, while Qui-Gon watched, powerless and unable to move. He had awoken from that dream in a rush of horror and fury, and had nearly wept when he saw Obi-Wan sleeping next to him.
He looked at his Padawan now. The wound at the back of his head had been treated and dressed. His tunics had been cut away, and heavy bandages bound his torn and dislocated shoulder to his body. His ribs were bound tightly as well, and a brace had been strapped around his sprained and swollen knee. His internal injuries had fortunately been slight, and the physicians had been encouraging about a complete and uncomplicated recovery.
Qui-Gon sighed and dropped his weary head in his hands. The events of the night before had left him utterly drained. He felt as frozen and paralyzed now as he had been in his nightmare.
When Obi-Wan reached over and touched his hair, Qui-Gon drew in a breath and lifted his head slowly. A warm and relieved smile brightened his face. “Good morning, Padawan,” he said quietly.
“Good morning, Master,” Obi-Wan said, his voice hushed and ragged. “Have you been here all night? You must be so tired.”
“No, no I’m fine. Obi-Wan, how are you feeling? The doctors say you’re doing well, but you need to rest and stay still, all right?”
“Yes, Master. I will.” He sounded as though he’d been chastened, and Qui-Gon wondered what he remembered from the night before.
“Here. You’ll want this.” Qui-Gon poured a glass of water from the bedside table, and held it carefully to the boy’s lips. Obi-Wan drank gratefully.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“You’re welcome.”
Obi-Wan seemed to hesitate, then said, “Master, I... I don’t remember clearly, but... I believe I must apologize. I think I behaved badly last night. I don’t know what came over me.”
“What came over you, Obi-Wan, was shock and confusion from your injuries. No apology is necessary.”
“But... did I...? I think I yelled at you.”
Qui-Gon smiled down at him. “You did. At me, at the medics. Mostly at yourself. You declared repeatedly that you fell off a cliff. We knew that already, of course.”
Obi-Wan winced. “I... am so sorry. Sorry for my words, sorry for my clumsiness.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Oh gods. I spoke to you about Xanatos.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I upset you!”
“Obi-Wan. Stop. You said nothing to me that I didn’t need to hear.”
“But, it’s not my place to --”
“Padawan, do you know where your place is? Your place is beside me. As my learner, yes, but also as my partner, my companion, my friend.” When his Master touched his cheek, Obi-Wan looked up. “My own son could not be dearer to me, Obi-Wan. What you think, what you feel, it matters deeply to me. For all the worlds, I would not cause you unhappiness. But I’ve done so.”
Obi-Wan was very moved by the emotion in his Master’s voice. He brought his hand up to cover Qui-Gon’s, and leaned his head into the caress.
“Now Obi-Wan, I must tell you something. You seem to see me as... infallible. I am not. I am flawed, I make mistakes, I handle things badly from time to time. I apologize for not seeing how my self-doubt affects you. I was insensitive. But you must know this: I have weaknesses, and I always will. You cannot let that frighten you.”
Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyes filled with admiration. “I understand, I do. And Master, I must tell you something.” He swallowed, and spoke in a heartfelt whisper. “My own father could not be dearer to me.”
Qui-Gon smiled, and leaned down to lightly kiss his Padawan’s forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered back.
Many hours later, Qui-Gon slipped quietly into Obi-Wan’s dimly lit room. He was impeccably clothed in his dress uniform, and looked very different from the exhausted and disheveled man who had awoken there this morning. It was nearing midnight, the time of the official signing ceremony of the treaty they had worked so hard to negotiate. Qui-Gon sincerely looked forward to the event, but it hurt him to leave his Padawan’s side.
He approached the bed silently, but Obi-Wan’s eyes opened as he sensed his Master’s presence. “Hi. You look nice,” he said sleepily, “It’s almost time, isn’t it. I wish I could be there.”
“I wish you could, too, Obi-Wan. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to leave something for you.”
Carefully, Qui-Gon placed the slender crystal vase on the bedside table. In it was a single, fragrant Alderaanian rose in full bloom.
Obi-Wan saw that it was exquisitely beautiful.
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