Suffering

By Seven

Feedback: Yes yes yes!
Summary: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon don't like how they're being treated.
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Tisn't mine, tis George Lucas's, and I make nothing off of it.
 

"Obi-Wan hit the floor and felt a hot needle jab through his shoulder. His lightsaber had rolled just out of his
grasp-"

I stop and stretch, hearing my knuckles crack, then get up and limp on very numb feet to the kitchen. I'd
been writing for a very long time, and now I wanted a break. But then I stop dead...

HE was leaning against the stove. And he looked quite miffed.

"Oh come on!" Obi-Wan called. "You can't leave me there, it's unfair!"

"I most certainly can," I yawn, pulling strawberry jam from the fridge. "I'm the writer, remember? I can do
whatever I want. I could kill you, if I wanted to make it an AU."

"But then you'd get lots of negative mail," Obi-Wan warns. "Is there enough jam for two?"

"Sure, plenty." I half-toss him the jar, and he catches it in mid-air with the Force. "But I'm tired. My eyes are
full of sand. I wanna sleep."

"But what about ME?" Obi-Wan protests, a hint of whine coming into his voice. "I'm suffering too! I'm lying on
a dungeon floor, and I don't even have my lightsaber."

"Don't worry, I'll get you out of this. I always do."

"You do not."

"Well, I like an occasional sad ending."

"But most of the time I'm on bedrest because someone's been dancing on my face. I mean, I ended up with
Bant's elbow in my ear, stuffed in Yoda's closet. Look..." He held out his hands. "My fingers still haven't
unwrinkled."

"You deserved it," I said wryly.

"YOU MADE ME DO IT!"

A very tall, very muscular man with long brown hair and puzzled frown stuck his head in. "Anything wrong?"

"Yes!" Obi-Wan responds with a hint of a squeak in his voice. "She's left me dangling at the most climactic
part of the story. I'm in a life-or-death struggle, paralyzed from the waist down, minus my lightsaber, and she
wants to nap and eat a sandwich!"

Qui-Gon frowned. "I remember you left me in the torture chamber for a very long time. It's not really fair.
Especially after you addicted Obi-Wan to that drug; doesn't he deserve a break?"

I roll my eyes. "Okay, I'll go back to comedy after this one. 'Kay?"

Obi-Wan turned white as a sheet. "Merciful Force, not another Qui-Gon's Monthly Report?"

I grinned evilly. "Maaaaayyybeeee..."

"Now that was really unfair!" Obi-Wan protested. "I mean, you made me do a cannonball into the pool!"

"So help me," I say, pinching his cheek and grinning, "I just love guys who act their age."

"I can tell. Look what you did to that guy in that other fanfic... what was it called... 'Blind'?" Obi-Wan rolled his
eyes. "At least you treated him like you treated me."

"When are you going to finish it?" Qui-Gon asks, crossing his arms and smiling at me.

I yawn and take a bite of my sandwich. "Maybe in the morning. You know how I hate finishing stories--the
conclusion always seems so LAME."

"The morning!" Obi-Wan squeaks. "I can't wait that long! You can't do that to me!"

"Watch me."

"MASTER!"

"All right, all right..." I pick up a Coke and blunder back to the computer. "I'll get you back to the Temple.
Think you can survive on bedrest until morning?"

Obi-Wan grins and looks thoughtful. "Just so long as Master Yoda doesn't come to visit me."

"Deal."

He leans down and gives me a peck on the cheek. "Just don't beat me up any worse than you already have,
okay?"

"No promises," I whisper as he leaves the room. I grin, and continue typing...

              The End