Before the Phantoms Fell

A Series of Vignettes by LuvEwan

O

This will be an ongoing collection of scenes inspired by the list of plot bunnies offered so generously by dianethx, shanobi and Kynstar.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

A Powerful Light

G

(Disclaimer) Nothing belongs to me.

This first one is a combination of two ideas from the fertile imagination of dianethx. You'll have to read to see which ones!

O

Obi-Wan awaits his Master's return.

The Universe was a massive place, but suddenly, it had dwindled to a patch of powdered grit. As the hours brought a subtle shift and seeping of dusk into the sky, Obi-Wan was becoming increasingly convinced that his boots would ever only set upon that hearth. The others sat, meditated, even slept, but his cognizance was rigid as his spine. The eyes of his body and those of his mind were in desperate focus.

A scrape shorn through the silence, and his hand went to the jagged cave wall. He stood in total stillness, senses straining to locate the source of the sound. But it passed, and his surroundings settled. Beyond the lip of the shelter, the forest was captured in crisp sunset.

And the shadows were spreading.

From every edge and crevice, there was a bleeding of black that, too soon, would bring the eclipse of nighttime. The horizon would flood in a pall, and he wouldn't be able to make out the tall, venerable figure of his teacher, as he ascended the far-off hills. Obi-Wan was young. Very young, as just about everyone he came into contact with relished in reminding him. But his fresh heart was not without scars, and certainly not galvanized against harsher realities. He was worried about Qui-Gon. As the shroud fell further around him, he could feel his core set atremble, and he had to force his fingers not to follow suit. He was young, and if he had not been trained from infancy in the ways of the ancient Order, he would still be held close beneath the wing of his parents.

Yet, their faces were but a muddled blur in his memory. His family came to him in a mosaic: teachers, fellow students, the Knight and crechelings, they all assembled his support. It was their collective countenance that would sustain him in moments of uncertainty. Above them, however, would be his mentor. Qui-Gon Jinn, impulsive, aloof, charismatic, the rogue of the Temple. Rumors and legends followed him like the tail of his cloak—and, like that cloak, his steps would send them flying backward. He was aware of his reputation, but he lived his life in a way that was true to his own heart.

Obi-Wan had learned to see that, and he dismissed the criticism aimed at the man. He could not be his apprentice with any doubt separating them. So he would sometimes stifle his arguments, trusting in his Master's wisdom. Today he had done just that. He had wanted to remain beside Qui-Gon, a place that had become natural to Obi-Wan. They had been traveling with a group of fellow Jedi through the thick forest when a member was injured. Qui-Gon, the eldest of the mission team, dictated that he would aid the fallen Knight while the others continued. Obi-Wan had assumed that he would be staying as well, but that, as his Padawan, it was simply an unspoken thing.

But Qui-Gon's weathered face had been (regretfully?) stoic as he informed the boy, "Padawan, you are to go with the rest. I'll catch up."

Obi-Wan's insides had lurched, and protest leapt to his lips, but in the end he merely said, "Yes, Master." And, with a final look back at his teacher, joined the others.

That had been a long while ago. Twilight and slumber were calling. But he was self-appointed sentinel at the door of the cavern, and sleep was the furthest luxury from his mind. His thoughts were with Qui-Gon, his concern centered on the man. As a Jedi-in-training, Obi-Wan had thought himself not as tender as other children. Already in his short time, he had survived terrible assaults and overwhelming adversity.

He was a little started by the strengthening waves of fear roiling inside him. Yes, there were instances when Qui-Gon would solitarily seek out answers during an assignment, but the night would find him returned to his apprentice. Or, at least, Obi-Wan would know just where he was.

As the moon lifted, Obi-Wan had assumed the comlink clipped to his belt would flare with the Master's incoming message. That had not been the case, and Obi-Wan, acknowledging a deeper worry, had tried to contact him.

More than an hour later, there was still no response.

His heart was hammering now, and he found he had to walk, imprinting a short oval into the dirt floor. He had to move or the flurry in his chest would explode. He funneled every thought into his steps, and not the more sinister fates that might have prevented Qui-Gon from answering him.

"Qui-Gon and Gi'Ria are fine, young one." Master Windu assured him. He sat with his legs crossed, back propped by the rugged wall. "The Force would tell us if they were in danger."

Obi-Wan swallowed the boulder rising in his throat. No matter the nature of the man's response, it hurt to hear the cause of his trepidation voiced. He looked again to the fading day, and shook his head. Maybe I just can't hear it speaking. Maybe I'm not good enough—because I'm so below him.

"If he's alright, Master Windu, I need to see it for myself." Obi-Wan told him, with the proper measure of respect.

Another hour trudged by, and Obi-Wan stood outside the cave, on the fringes of the darkened forest. The wind teased along his skin, for if that same wind had passed Qui-Gon Jinn, there was no way of knowing. He gazed out, and something crumpled in him. Night ruled, and his Master had yet to arrive. Waiting in the day had been difficult, but there had been hope brandished in the brightness. Now, there was chill and dense shadow, and Obi-Wan found that hope severely weakened.

His musings started to wander to morbidity, and for an awful score of seconds, he entertained what would happen if Qui-Gon didn't return. A void closed in on Obi-Wan then, because he had been nothing when Qui-Gon Jinn had turned him away in the Temple, on Bandomeer…and Melida/Daan. For every abandonment, justified as they might have been, he lost a little of his worth. What would he be without his Master? Would he be banished again to the farming colonies, or would the Jedi finally erase him completely from their ranks?

Obi-Wan stared at the full darkness, and realized that none of it mattered. Without his Master, nothing mattered at all.

His breaths came quicker, and his eyes darted to his boots. His mental vision flashed with recollections of his Master's smile, his walk, the perfect weight of his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He thought of what the man meant to him—and begged the Force to allow an exchange, his life for Qui-Gon's. It was illogical, but wished so fervently, that for a moment, Obi-Wan thought it would work.

But time unfolded with the boy standing on the same sullied earth. Inside the cave, everyone save Windu had succumbed to exhaustion.

Obi-Wan sunk his face into his hands. He pressed his eyes shut, and gave himself to the panic. No. Please. I can't lose him. Please.

/I'm coming, Padawan./

He shot his head up with a gasp. "Master?" Bewildered eyes sought the outline of the man through the black. He searched with all the wild passion of his prayers, but there was no change to the night-painted scenery.

Slowly, he sunk to the ground, and accepted that it had been a projection of his frantic heart's wish. He was lost in painful delusion, while his Master was lost in the unforgiving elements.

A seething hate swelled in him. Was this all he was good for, sniveling on the floor? What use was he, a kid huddled in the dark, without anyone?

He crossed his arms over his knees and buried his face. Something had happened to Qui-Gon Jinn, something horrible, but he was unable to sense it.

/You are foolish to doubt yourself, my Learner. I told you I'm coming./

Obi-Wan shook his head, covering his head with his hands. I can't do this. I can't hear his voice. It hurts. It hurts to hear that and think that…I can't lose him I need him…I love him.

He heard strange things then, endearments spoken in the Master's graceful, deep tone, sentiments that were Obi-Wan's proof of an imposter. His Master was a kind soul, but his emotion toward Obi-Wan was evident. A teacher's regard for his pupil.

That wasn't the limit of Obi-Wan's feelings, and he curled further into himself, wanting not to feel anything. Already, the anguish was destroying him.

"Obi-Wan, you must stop this."

He would have thought it another errant emanation from his own mind, if not for the touch on his shoulder.

Obi-Wan brought his head up with difficulty, indifferent to the tears cooled in the breeze. Through waterfall vision, he saw a man's face—and his mouth quivered. He didn't feel childish, or inept. He only felt relief wash over him. "Master."

Qui-Gon ran his thumbs under the swollen eyes. "Look at the state of you."

Obi-Wan grappled for air. "W-Why didn't you…"

"Our comlinks shorted when we ran into some water." Qui-Gon's face was haggard and weary, but lit powerfully through the shadows. It was the same incandescence unearthing from Obi-Wan's soul. Qui-Gon smiled, resting his hands on the curve of Obi-Wan's cheeks. "Everything was fine, Padawan. We just had to move slow."

Obi-Wan stared at him, nodding. "I…I thought that…"

Qui-Gon reached for him, and enveloped him in steady arms, tucking Obi-Wan's head under his bearded chin. "I know, little one. But I'm here."

Obi-Wan grinned, a sob sputtering out of him, and held tightly to his Master.

O

A few minutes after their reunion, they lay in the haven shared by the other Jedi.

The wait had battered Obi-Wan more than he thought, and he was slipping to sleep as soon as his head touched the floor.

"Obi-Wan?"

He pushed his eyelids open, to gaze at Qui-Gon with renewed reverence. "Yes, Master?" It was a gift to be able to speak those familiar words.

"Why didn't you answer when I called to you?"

Obi-Wan sat up on his elbows. "What do you mean? You said the comms shorted out."

"No, Obi-Wan," The man negated softly, "I heard your fear, your pleas for my safety. I called to you through the Force, to stop you from worrying." He straightened the thin braid, "I told you I was coming."

Obi-Wan's brow crinkled, as his heart contracted with the memory. "I…I heard you." He said, with confused amazement. "How did I…I thought it was my imagination."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Your thoughts pushed into mine, Obi-Wan. In the middle of nowhere, I heard your voice. Our bond, Obi-Wan. It became more today." His smile was reflected in his eyes, "It reached a point not all partnerships can. It takes a special connection."

"Oh," Obi-Wan replied, within a sort of daze. The revelation clashed with everything established in his head, although it melded with all that had been wanted in his heart. He shed the reason of both, to live in the moment, as his Master was always encouraging him to do.

/I'm glad we have it, Master. Even if it was passing./

Qui-Gon stroked his chin. /I predict it won't be, my Padawan. It can be a salvation. You must remember that, Obi-Wan./

Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more, and breathed. A salvation, his Master had said. He thought the same. Already, it had been the light kindled through the worst darkness.

O

That was inspired by two bunnies on a twenty-five point list by dianethx. One was 'Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's first mindspeech', and the other was 'Obi-Wan is afraid of the dark'. More soon! Like I said, there were twenty-five from her alone.