It was night, now and as all young padawans should be, Obi-Wan was asleep. Qui-Gon stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the sleeping boy. He had tried to resist, but that was his own weakness, his own pain, his own darkness after Xanatos. He marveled anew at the boy's courage and honesty; Jedi children tended to be self-sufficient, but this boy.....this boy had amazed him.
Treading the thin line between childhood and youth, Obi-Wan was possessed of a strength and dignity that many people thrice his age lacked. He should have been honored to take such a padawan, instead of fleeing with all his might. Again, he remember the boy's eyes, too bright with tears, as he had once again crushed Obi-Wan's hopes. That was a memory that hurt more than he would have liked to admit to himself, but it was his blame to accept. And amend, he told himself.
The boy stirred in his sleep, a faint plaintive sound. One hand was outflung as if in entreaty, and the fingers twitched. Silently, Qui-Gon moved through the room, hesitated for a moment near the bed. Another sound, this one more pained, and he sat down on the edge, hesitating once more. Obi-Wan had pride in plenty, and doubtless that had sustained him through what he must have seen as crushing rejection again and again. He didn't want to violate that pride.
But it had hurt to pretend that he had expected Obi-Wan to be fine, when he had wanted nothing more but to lift the boy into his arms and into a crushing hug of relief. That thin edge between again, he thought wryly and when Obi-Wan tossed his head, whimpering, he leaned forward, gently cupped Obi-Wan's cheek. "It's all right, my padawan, it's only a dream." Voice pitched to soothe. "Wake up now."
Obi-Wan resisted, tossing his head again, sat bolt upright with a sob, eyes wide open. "Oh!" Tearful and trying to pretend he was not.
It undid him. "Here now, it was just a dream, my padawan." He held his arms out and suddenly, Obi-Wan was in them, sobbing against his chest. "Oh, my dear." Softly, ruffling the silky hair. "It's all past now, you won through."
"I know." Gasped, and the boy made an effort to calm himself. Pride again, but he didn't let go, kept holding on, kept stroking the boy's hair lightly. After a time, resistance eased and Obi- Wan relaxed against him, only an occasional sniffle attesting to his distress.
Emotion made Qui-Gon's throat tight; how could he have resisted this boy? He must have been so locked in his own private darkness...."It's all right," he murmured, "There is no shame in a dream, Obi-Wan. You've been through a great deal, it would be more surprising if you did not have some trouble sleeping. You were, if I may say so, absolutely amazing, and I'm honored to have you as padawan."
A shaky breath. "You are?"
The uncertainty in the boy's voice made his throat ache more. "I am."
He lifted the boy's chin, looked down into tear wet eyes, lashes sparkling with those unshed, and felt that unaccustomed emotion again. There was something here between them, he thought, a little shaken. Something of fate, of destiny, and perhaps that was what he had been running from. "Obi-Wan, my resistance to taking a padawan never had to do with you, I promise you that. It was my own fear."
Obi-Wan blinked. "But you're a Master." Tremulous voice.
He smiled, touched the stubborn, cleft chin. "Yes, and that is why even Masters must be mindful of the code. Fear leads to hatred, and hatred leads..."
"To the Dark side." Obi-Wan swallowed. "What were you afraid of?" Hesitantly.
He sensed the importance of this moment. Truth, he thought sadly, was essential, but not all of it at once. "Of failure, my padawan." Drawing Obi-Wan back against him, he sighed. "I was afraid of shadows."
Obi-Wan gazed at him. "Because of Xanatos?"
He smiled wryly. This boy, he thought fondly and sighed, tightened his arms. "Yes, because of Xanatos."
Obi-Wan's cheek rested against his tunic, he felt the boy sigh and shift, rubbing at his own chest. He frowned, thinking of everything the boy had endured of late. "Did the governor's physician see you, Obi-Wan?"
Swift guilty look upward. "I told him I was all right, just bruised, Master. I wanted...I wanted a bath."
He touched the cleft chin again. "Stubborn boy. Let me see your chest, you could have cracked ribs or any number of hidden injuries." Took the sting out of the words with a smile.
Sitting back obediently, Obi-Wan untied the laces of his sleep shirt, let Qui-Gon examine him. Probing gently, Qui-Gon determined that the boy's ribs seemed all right, but there was a nasty patch of burnt skin on his chest. The electro-jabber, no doubt, he thought grimly and ruffled Obi-Wan's hair. "I've got something for that," he told Obi-Wan. "Just give me a moment." Rising, he went to his own room, rummaged in his belongings and returned with a small tube of ointment. Anxious, worried look, and it struck him to the heart how drawn the boy looked. Still worried about rejection, he thought painfully and smiled. "This should help."
"Are you angry at me?" Muted voice.
He sat down on the bed again, opened the tube. "As one who has spent more than allotted time avoiding physicians, I would be a hypocrite indeed if I were." Teasingly. The boy shivered when he daubed the ointment on, but there was a trace of relief in his eyes. "Sorry, it's cold, I'm sure. But it works."
Obi-Wan shivered again, offered him a shy smile while redoing his sleepshirt. "It does feel better. Thank you."
He couldn't prevent himself from cupping the boy's cheek again, letting affection flow along the newly formed link. "It is my pleasure, my padawan." Smiled again. "I rather like being able to say that to you. I hope that's pardonable pride."
It was well worth saying it; Obi-Wan seemed almost to glow with happiness at his words. "I like calling you 'Master', too."
It eased some of the ache around his heart. "Good. Now, let's see if I can't put you back into comfortable sleep by telling you some tales of my own padawan days, shall we?" He shifted back against the head of the bed, drew Obi-Wan closer again. "And yes, I know you aren't a child to be cozened with a bedtime story. But it will please me to be allowed to tell you, and to help you find better dreams."
A moment of shyness, and then Obi-Wan settled comfortably under his arm, head against his shoulder.
"It pleases me, too." Diffidently.
He smiled, pressed his cheek against the silky hair. "Good, then we are in agreement. Now, let me tell you about the time Master Windu and I got into terrible trouble for what we did in the Meditation Gardens to the seedling plants....." He smiled again as Obi-Wan nestled against him, felt the last of the ice in his heart thaw and melt away.
For all that Obi-Wan thought he was honored to be chosen, it was
his Master who had been saved.
Return to Archive List