Forget

By LuvEwan

**Response to a Halloween challenge posted in the Obi-Wan Character Workshop. Dedicated to obi_ew and all the others there that make the thread such a fun time! **

pg

*disclaimers at bottom of page**

Summary: Obi-Wan is disturbed by unusual, inexplicable occurrences within his home. Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon. In the 'spirit' of Halloween.

)(

Qui-Gon woke quickly, as he always did, having a smooth transition from sleep to crisp alertness, glad for the respite but eager to begin the day.

He drew back the sheets and reached for his robe, wrapping it over his nightclothes, then tying the sash loosely.

The morning sun strewn through the open curtains and warmed his face as he glanced out at Coruscant's already bustling cityscape.

The Master stretched with a yawn before heading down the shadowed hallway, his toes sinking into the plush carpet with every step.

He stopped at the first door, unable to quell the sweet smile that touched his mouth.

Obi-Wan was lying on his back, head tilted to the side, one hand clutching his thin Padawan braid, the other resting on his bare stomach. The invading glow of the fresh day spilled lovingly on his skin, honeyed and soft, surrounded by snowy white bed linen.

But this image of peace was fractured by the crease deepening between his brows.

Qui-Gon frowned, stepping inside the room.

Obi-Wan was not inclined to his Master's preference of early rising, and his drapes were closed to prevent the sun from rousing him, so that the small quarters were a melding of shadow and pale, meager light around this time.

Despite his bright disposition, Obi-Wan liked to be in the dark.

Qui-Gon stood beside his bed, running his fingers through the silk riot of ginger hair.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan moaned. A deep, guttural sound that eerily permeated the silence..

Qui-Gon withdrew, but soon found that he couldn't be the cause of his student's distress, for Obi-Wan continued to groan, his lips moving in silent, desperate speech as he writhed in his sheets.

Qui-Gon touched his forehead. "Obi-Wan?"

"Mmmmph…no…no…" Came the shaky plea, tears beginning to stream from his sealed eyes. He gripped his midsection as though in terrible pain.

"Stop this!" Qui-Gon shouted in a jarringly authoritative voice, grasping his arms.

The younger man woke with a breathless gasp. He sat up rim-rod straight and turned frenzied, watery eyes on his mentor. "Red. R-Red." He whispered hoarsely. "Buzzing red."

Qui-Gon pulled him against his chest. "Not again, Obi-Wan." He said with a long-suffering sigh, rubbing the strained muscles of the bare back.

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut and forced the grim vestiges of dream from his mind.

"Enough of this." Qui-Gon stroked his hair. "What did I tell you?" He prompted gently.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "T-To forget."

The Master pulled back and cupped a smooth, tear-stained cheek. "That's right." He saw the bleached pallor of the Padawan's face; he shook his head briefly in response. "It's very foolish of you to hold onto these nightmares."

Obi-Wan dropped a hand slowly from Qui-Gon's arm, to brush, trembling, over his stomach. "It f-felt so real." He admitted, unshed moisture glinting in his azure eyes.

"But it's not." There was a strong, unwavering vein of conviction in his tone. "So you must not let it bother you. Forget."

Obi-Wan glanced away. A quick pulse of objection went through him, but was gone before he could consider it.

Which was silly. Very silly, he told himself. Why would he rebel against the truth? His Master wouldn't deceive him. His Master cared about him.

And he felt a swell of buoyancy within him, not studying it too closely for fear it would be unmasked as shallow, then smiled. "I won't let it bother me, Master. I promise you."

Qui-Gon squeezed his knee. "I'm glad to hear it."

Obi-Wan watched as the man departed, the door sliding shut to provide him the privacy to change from his sleep pants. He stayed in a still position for several minutes, letting the security of reality lull him, and the nonsensical apparitions soon faded.

He crossed his arms when an abrupt chill swirled around his bed, like a tiny disruption in the atmosphere, or…or the slight stir of air created when a person stood, though he had not moved an inch.

Not an inch.

)(

Obi-Wan sat at the small window seat, his chin resting on his knees, arms woven around his legs. He stared out at the strange mishmash of neon and gray that was the Temple's background, a moody slate sky in contrast with brilliantly lit buildings.

A delicately winged, violet-colored insect landed on the sleek window's surface.

Obi-Wan smiled at the small beauty, pressing his finger against the glass.

He expected the timid creature to flutter away from the threat, but it remained, unperturbed, happily scaling the window, as though Obi-Wan wasn't there. "Well, you're an odd one, aren't you?" He murmured.

Just then, he heard a loud slap, and watched with frightened bewilderment as the window shook, the insect darting away.

Obi-Wan turned, reasoning that his Master must have used Force-manipulation to swat it from sight.

But his eyes met with the empty main room.

He looked back at the window, ignoring the unsteady rhythm of his heart. What…?

)(

Qui-Gon speared a piece of plump, golden fruit and took a juicy bite. He saw Obi-Wan's plate, largely untouched. "Aren't you hungry?"

Obi-Wan had been looking blankly into the distance, his fist pressed to his chin. With Qui-Gon's hinting comment, he took up his utensil and began picking at the variety of melons and berries.

Qui-Gon sensed his ill-concealed discord. "Is something wrong, Padawan?"

Memories of the agony piercing through his body skirted past his thoughts, but Obi-Wan didn't betray his unease, shrugging with a good-natured smile. "No. I'm fine."

The Master regarded him keenly for a moment, then turned his gaze downward, stabbing another fruit slice.

"You shouldn't be so paranoid, my apprentice."

Obi-Wan snapped his head up, flushing. "Master?"

Qui-Gon glanced up, expressionless. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

The young man's forehead wrinkled. "Did you say something?"

Genuine surprise. "No."

"Oh." Obi-Wan dropped his eyes with an uneven laugh. "I guess I just imagined it."

Qui-Gon reached out across the table and patted his hand. "Eat, Obi-Wan." He urged kindly.

"Yes, Master."

)(

Night descended, settling quietly over the apartment.

The evening had been spent playing a few card games. Obi-Wan was much enthused, joking and giggling and throwing jests at his Master when the man fell behind in points--only occasionally looking over his shoulder at the window that remained ominous behind him.

Now exhaustion had seeped into them both, and they were grateful when the last round was finished.

"Who knew you could get so tired from that." Qui-Gon said around a yawn, standing.

Obi-Wan was lounging on the couch, eyes heavy-lidded. "Well, it does require a lot of brain power to even try and beat me." He grinned.

Qui-Gon snorted. "Cheeky." He covered another yawn with his hand, then leaned over the Padawan, flicking the dimple in his chin with a smile. "I'm going to bed."

"I don't think I can move from this spot." Obi-Wan retorted wearily.

The older Jedi draped a quilt over him. "Just make sure you don't drool all over the sofa." He touched his temple, sobering. "Don't be afraid if it happens again. Just remember--it isn't real."

Obi-Wan looked up at the concerned countenance. "I know."

Qui-Gon lingered, something unnamed misting through his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

Coarse but pleasant fingers traced the curve of his cheek. "I'd never let you." Qui-Gon said, in his baritone rumble. "I'd never let you, Obi-Wan."

)(

Obi-Wan laid in the silent darkness. Moments ago, he had been so weighed down by lethargy the notion of relocating to his quarters seemed an impossible task.

But with his limbs comfortably arranged, a warm blanket to stave off the peculiar gusts of cold, and his eyes closed, he was maddeningly unable to drift.

He exhaled, turning onto his side. The moon bathed everything a pallid shade of blue, and inexplicably, a bone-deep shudder shot down his back.

Forget.

"Yes." Obi-Wan to himself in a hushed voice. "I should forget." His eyelids fell.

Only to snap open when the small sofa pillow was thrust from under his head.

Obi-Wan shot up, crying out in surprise. He watched as it was thrown to the other side of the couch, floating in a partially controlled fashion, as if maneuvered by translucent hands.

A cold stone dropped in Obi-Wan's belly. "Oh Sith."

He looked desperately around the room, but his surroundings were unchanged. Breathing in hitches, he reached, tentatively, for the pillow, and was relieved when he could easily replace it under him.

Striving to calm his fluttering heart, Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling, hands folded tightly on his stomach. It must be Master playing a trick. It must be--who else--WHAT else could've done that?

His initial reaction would be to run screaming from the room, jabbering of the senselessness.

But he was a Jedi to the core, he discovered, and the few minutes after the incident were spent trying to rationalize the situation.

Master was probably just getting back at me for teasing him.

He repeated the theory until he believed it, finally relaxing against the sofa and edging toward sleep.

"Argh!"

What sounded like a frustrated grunt ripped him from his drowsing state.

A female voice, perhaps young, definitely agitated.

Obi-Wan gripped his blanket while also gritting his teeth so intensely his jaw ached. That…That couldn't be Master.

No sooner had he finished the terrifying thought that the pillow was yanked from him again, the force of it sending him tumbling off the couch, landing in a trembling heap on the floor.

His face was pressed against the carpet, and he was paralyzed by fear, unwilling to turn to see the invisible menace.

You're probably dreaming. That's it. You're dreaming and you're already asleep. It's not real. Remember what Master said? Dreams can't be real…This CAN'T be real…

A hand clamped down on his shoulder then, and Obi-Wan couldn't help the shriek that tore from his quaking lips.

Qui-Gon was almost thrown back himself by the sheer volume of the cry. His blue eyes were wide, grave with worry. He flipped Obi-Wan onto his back.

Obi-Wan was twisted in the sheet, his cheeks shining damp and gaze threaded with red. He looked at Qui-Gon in astonishment. "M-Master?"

"What happened? I heard a thump out here." A pause. "You're as pale as a ghost."

The apprentice struggled to sit up and wiped at his face. "I-I…" He looked at the motionless pillow, then to his teacher. "Didn't you hear her?"

Qui-Gon frowned. "Who?"

Obi-Wan felt bile film his throat. "The--The girl." He croaked. "She…I couldn't see her b-but…she kept taking the pillow."

Qui-Gon's warm palm pressed to his forehead. Finding it cool, he regarded Obi-Wan intently. "A girl was stealing your pillow?"

Obi-Wan gulped down a sob and pulled the blanket taught around his shoulders. "Yes. And I couldn't see her. Only the pillow, being thrown around. Th-Then she made a sound--like she was angry."

Qui-Gon digested the information, then stood, bringing Obi-Wan up with him.

The Padawan stared about the room in tearful terror, standing close to the Master, appearing a bedraggled, lost boy, although he was nearly the age of a Knight.

Qui-Gon took a breath. "You need some sleep." He locked an arm around hunched shoulders and led Obi-Wan down the hallway. "You're just tired."

Numbed by shock and disbelief, Obi-Wan allowed himself to be helped into his bed.

Qui-Gon tucked the duvet around him. "Just rest, Padawan. You'll be alright in the morning."

Obi-Wan grabbed his wrist before he could separate to his own room. His eyes were haunted, leeched of all vibrancy, rimmed with fear. "Don't leave me. Please."

)(

For a handful of precious hours, Obi-Wan reveled in pure unconsciousness, free of the troubles that seemed to plague him in lucidity. Qui-Gon was asleep beside him, his Force presence reassuring.

Then, he came awake, greeted by darkness.

The memory of the girl was also there to welcome him to cognizance. He thought for a long while of her, attempting to ascertain her identity, her motives.

"Who are you?" He whispered his wonder. "What…What do you want?"

"I want you to go."

He had not expected an answer, and Obi-Wan felt as though he were sinking into the mattress, unable to move for alarm.

"I want you to go." She repeated.

Obi-Wan wet his lips, his body rigid. "I belong here. This is my home." He forced out the next words before his courage could flee. "YOU should leave."

"Oh…No, no…" The voice sounded almost mournful. "This isn't where you belong

"Not anymore."

Obi-Wan felt fury bubbling within him. "It's YOU who doesn't belong."

But this time, there was no reply.

)(

The pain was incredible. Burning in his head, materializing as a red haze.

Red.

Buzzing red sweeping towards…

)(

Obi-Wan uttered a cry, curling in on himself.

Qui-Gon shook him. "Obi-Wan! Padawan! Wake up."

The young protégé obeyed, opening his eyes and biting down on his lip.

"Remember." Qui-Gon said simply, his hair a bit tousled but his eyes clear.

Obi-Wan nodded. Yes, he remembered.

But he recalled more than his Master's advice.

Agony.

The terrible heat impaling him…

The girl.

"Oh, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon took him into a tender embrace. "What's happening to you?"

Obi-Wan rested his head on a broad shoulder, his body cold and nearly limp.

"It doesn't matter." The man murmured, stroking the small of his back. "I'm here. I'll always be here for you."

)(

Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fuzzy, white terrycloth towel around his slender waist.

He spent a number of hours in bed, weary to his bones and utterly confused. Qui-Gon remained with him, keeping his touch steady on Obi-Wan's arm.

But eventually, he knew he had to move past the strange events of the night.

The hot spray of the shower beating down on him was meant to rejuvenate him, yet he wasn't revived by it, still pale with dark circles beneath his eyes when he padded to the sink.

Obi-Wan ran his hands through his slick hair, smoothing it out of his face. It occurred to him, as he stood there, that he had last received a trim…Force, he couldn't remember when. He hadn't needed it. His hair was the same, Padawan-regulation length.

The mirror was fogged. He leaned forward, breathing out toward the glass.

The condensation didn't clear.

Obi-Wan stared at the mist.

"Not again."

The girl's unhappy tone startled him, and he backed away from the sink, clutching the tie of the towel.

He heard the long squeaks as the fog was miraculously wiped from the window…

Revealing a reflection.

Before him, captured in the glass, was a young Padawan female, with raven hair and sandy tunics.

He didn't see his own counterpart. He couldn't see himself.

Another Jedi walked into the room, a middle aged Master. She surveyed her apprentice's sad expression, placed a hand on her shoulder, then glanced around the steamy lavatory.

"Go home, young one. Go home." She urged, seemingly to no one.

Obi-Wan screamed.

)(

Qui-Gon could only hold Obi-Wan as he shuddered helplessly, tears rolling from his eyes.

"Master, who are they?"

Qui-Gon didn't know, and didn't pretend to, so he retained his silence.

Obi-Wan laid against his chest, the horrific occurrences replaying constantly in his thoughts.

And then the red, buzzing beam of light filled his mental periphery.

The pain. It felt so…

He looked over at the coffee table. A piece of semi-thick parchment was sitting on the wooden surface.

He picked it up.

The script was plain, yet elegant. He recognized the font for some reason…

It read:

Tribute to Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Honorary Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi

Twelfth Chime, Tonight.

Their memory shall be preserved.

The page crumpled under the stress of his grip.

"No…What?…No…" Obi-Wan threw his eyes up to his Master.

Qui-Gon just looked at him, tears standing in his gaze. "I forgot. I made myself forget. You were supposed to forget too, Padawan."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No…Master…"

"The more you remembered…The more they got in, the more you heard of them, saw of them…" Qui-Gon braced his face with trembling hands. "They want us to go. They want me to give you up, to allow what happened to be real." He swallowed. "But I won't let it be real. It can't be, my Obi-Wan.

"Because you're not supposed to go…I was supposed to protect you."

Then Obi-Wan had full, piercing knowledge.

The Sith's blade slicing through his midsection. Falling to the slick floor, beginning to pass from the world…

Qui-Gon dropping somewhere near him, a wound gaping in his thigh.

"I…I can't get help, Obi-Wan." He choked. "Nobody hears me. I-I can't walk."

Obi-Wan could barely see, due to the smothering darkness overtaking him. "…Hurts…"

That had been the end of his existence, on that plane.

But Qui-Gon had been not so gravely injured. He could have…

"Master," Obi-Wan gripped his arms, dismay dripping in his words, "What did you do?"

Qui-Gon sat back. "I couldn't lay there, helpless. Y-You…You were already gone. I was too late. Nobody could hear me calling a-and I didn't want to endure it. Your eyes were still open, Obi-Wan." Tears cascaded unbidden down his face. "I was able to move enough to reach my saber…"

The tragic day was gray in his eyes. "I had failed you. And I didn't want you to be alone. I didn't want to be alone."

Obi-Wan entwined their fingers. "Master, where are we?"

Qui-Gon brushed his hand across Obi-Wan's forehead. "It doesn't matter. We can be together here. We can forget, if you try…It's where we belong, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked. The thought of entering the Force…there were too many uncertainties, compared to the familiarity of this place, the comfort of his father's arms.

"I'll forget." He whispered. "I'll forget."

**disclaimer** As always, all characters belong to George Lucas. Aspects of the premise were inspired by "The Others", and made to fit into the Star Wars universe.