Happy Holidays! An actual update. Thanks for your lovely reviews, and to those who've put this story on their Alert list. It makes me wish I could promise regular updates... Hope you enjoy. All is not what it seems. Suggestion, comments and criticism are welcome!
Disclaimer: Imagination is my only possession.
Mace didn't understand what had happened between last night and this morning, but the rebellious apprentice he'd chided only yesterday afternoon was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a quiet, calm and collected Jedi stood ready to face the consequences of his actions. His motions and gestures were relaxed and graceful, his voice well-modulated with an even melodic cadence typical of those raised in the capital, and his eyes were clear and steady, neither blatantly challenging nor skittishly avoiding the truth. His presence spoke of more than the composed mask that so many learn to wear and went deeper than surface expression. On any other occasion it would have made Mace proud to see such a promising student let go of his anxieties and find confidence in his path. But today, with this Jedi, and after all he'd seen and done on this mission...
On the journey to Naboo, Mace had thought they would be deciding an appropriate punishment for young Kenobi. For the padawan who'd so often played the peacekeeper between his master and the Jedi Council -- indeed the only person who could calm either faction down when they were spoiling for an argument -- for him to break mission parameters, accept monetary compensation, abandon the Naboo in crisis, and buy a slave, was to face expulsion from the Order.
Yet Mace could already see the effect the padawan's demeanor had on the other members of the Council. If there was anything Kenobi could have done to make them reconsider expulsion, this was it.
Despite public perception, the Council was not heartless or soulless. Each of the masters serving on the Council had trained an apprentice, and once upon a time, each had had a master; they were not without sympathy for Kenobi's loss, particularly in the face of his battle with the Sith warrior. It was a shocking return of the nightmare even Mace thought had ceased to exist except in children's stories. But taking a glance at his fellow masters, he had a sinking feeling this meeting would not proceed with Kenobi's best interest at heart.
Mace was the only Council member to have any contact with Obi-Wan yesterday. The quiet desperation, weary relief and tightly controlled panic that clung to Obi-Wan outside Lady Skywalker's quarters had made him wince. It was nowhere in evidence now. Mace could not deny that this man in front of them, cloaked in serenity, waiting out their silent scrutiny with patience and detached interest, was a Jedi Knight.
It made him unaccountably wary and torn over the correct course of action.
As Ki-Adi Mundi broke the silence and Kenobi began his debriefing, answering provocative and redundant questions alike with poise, Mace found himself contemplating the Jedi Code. There is no emotion, there is peace.
Obi-Wan Kenobi could not have impressed the Council more with his logical, rational explanations. And where there were none, he conveyed his visions with a quiet but unmistakable authority born of unwavering trust in the Force. He admitted his faults openly, his anger at the Sith that had struck down his master and how he used it to fuel his attack. He spoke of his struggle to maintain Qui-Gon's life-force whilst simultaneously drawing on the Dark to fight the monster, and of his realization, almost too late, that the two were counterproductive. From a distance, Mace heard the others reviewing the details, grilling Obi-Wan in earnest as their focus shifted from Kenobi and his transgressions to the return of the Sith.
In their minds, lightly connected, he could sense the unspoken yet clear acknowledgement that Kenobi had passed through his Trials and emerged a stronger, wiser Jedi, ready to take his place in the Order. Thus resolved, they moved on to events of greater import: the Sith and their machinations.
But Mace could only think of one thing: that the change between yesterday's padawan and today's knight was unnatural. The sinking feeling had only gotten worse. Something was wrong and the other masters seemed not to feel it at all.
He searched out Master Yoda and found the small master listening intently with his eyes closed and a slight frown on his face. It came to him suddenly that perhaps Qui-Gon might be right about the Code after all.
It was a disturbing thought.
XXXX
It was uncanny how a place that used to inspire such fear and loathing in him had quickly become an almost necessary relief. The impossible scent of nothing and antiseptic, the crisp and ordered lines of everything from equipment to bed sheets, the constant rhythm of sound; each provided numerous opportunities for meditation. Granted, this was not the Healer's Ward of the Jedi Temple, but then, it didn't need to be. The light tread of assistants making their rounds, delivering meals and changing bedpans and IVs, next to the soft beep of a heart monitor would have been the same anywhere.
Anakin had already been by three times, most recently accompanied by his mother after mid-day meal. He'd expected it to be awkward, sitting by Qui-Gon's bedside and keeping up optimistic chatter, but Anakin had been strangely subdued during his visits and Lady Skywalker simply looked at Obi-Wan, took his hand and didn't let go. Something inside him began to thaw.
He didn't notice when they left, but he imagined the muja berry stain that now graced his left sleeve had come from Ani.
Qui-Gon looked older when he slept. Or maybe he just looked older. Without those vibrant, compelling eyes, his face lacked the youthfulness the force of his personality engendered. Perhaps he was just seeing what a 12-year-old padawan's hero worship hadn't let him see before.
Obi-Wan was seeing many things differently now. When Qui-Gon awoke, he would be the same man, the same maverick he'd always been. His recovery would take time, a long time certainly, endured with impatience to be out in the galaxy and doing the will of the Force. His master might emerge a bit humbler for his defeat, but would push himself harder to regain fighting form and eventually serve the Order as diplomat and warrior for decades to come. It wasn't a vision of the future, simply the logical conclusion drawn from years' experience in knowing this man.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were avoiding me."
Obi-Wan didn't even turn around as he replied, "I don't think I'm the one who's specializing in avoidance."
Xanatos acknowledged the hit with a slight dip of his head. "Perhaps. But you'd be amazed how easy it is to get into an argument with a comatose patient. Not really the best atmosphere for recovery, or so the healers say."
At that Obi-Wan allowed a small smile, "Oh, I don't know. I think if you push the right buttons, you might force him to wake up just so he can prove you wrong."
"Maybe we'll try that method later. Right now I'll just enjoy the peace and quiet." As he spoke, Xanatos crossed to the other side of the bed, sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs found in medical facilities everywhere. After a moment's hesitation, he reached for Qui-Gon's hand and held it gently in his own.
"Obi-Wan?"
He looked up and saw Xanatos watching him nervously.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
There was no clear answer to that. He was unsure how the morning meeting with the Council would play out, but Obi-Wan knew with certainty that his future was intertwined with the Jedi. In what capacity remained to be seen.
He sighed, "No decision from the Council yet but--"
"Not with the Council, Obi-Wan. What happened to you?" The gentleness in Xanatos' eyes and voice would be a great surprise to many in the Order could they see him now. He had a reputation as a good operative, efficient and thorough, but with a penchant for 'sneaky' tactics and a cold practicality that had labeled him as ruthless. To those who didn't know him.
Obi-Wan felt a little bit more of the alien coldness leave him.
"It was the bond, Xan. I let go."
He could tell that Xanatos hadn't actually expected to get an answer so quickly. There was no use in denial though, Obi-Wan knew that. Xan had been there, seen his reaction and felt the effect. He had been the catalyst that ripped the truth free, and hours spent in uneasy meditation here had led to acceptance. Obi-Wan didn't blame Xanatos for the hurt is words had caused, but it was clear his friend didn't share that view. It was almost amusing how obviously careful Xan was being in choosing his words.
"I'm not sure I understand. You...let go? How do you mean?"
Obi-Wan answered in the same quiet tone. "The training bond. It was already gone, really. I just…wasn't ready to accept that."
Tense moments passed as his words were absorbed. Obi-Wan prayed Xan wouldn't question him further; knowing how strained his relationship with Qui-Gon was, he had no wish to widen the divide. The simplest explanation was best for all concerned.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the tension bled out of the room and Obi-Wan could see Xanatos' misplaced feelings of guilt leaving with it. They sat silently together, each contemplating the complex man that was their master.
Outside the window, the setting sun was painting an astonishing array of colors across the sky, light orange fading into pink, then violet, reflecting off clouds and the domed architecture favored by the Naboo. Shadows played around the room like mischievous spirits, moving about, there and gone, taking over the room steadily until an apprentice healer gave a small cough and turned on the lights.
"Master Jedi? I believe last meal will be served soon."
Obi-Wan nodded at the young woman, then turned to find Xanatos watching him.
"Why did you call me here Obi-Wan?"
After a slight pause, Obi-Wan replied, "As you may have noticed earlier, Anakin needs looking after."
Xanatos started at that, and Obi-Wan could practically see his mind turn away from the implication.
"Well, now you've brought his mother back, she can deal with the kid."
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh. He knew Xan wasn't going to make this easy. Best just to come right out and say it then.
"Xan, I brought you here because I think you should train Anakin."
"What?!"
For an indignant squawk, it was quite impressive in volume.
"He's a gifted young boy who desperately needs training. Ani may exaggerate his adventure, but I'm sure you'll agree that only someone exceptionally powerful in the Force could accomplish what he has at his age."
"But...I don't--"
"He really is a friendly child, very loyal and hard-working and seems to be a quick-learner. He'll do well as your padawan, though he does have enough energy to power a small planet. I think it'll be good for you."
Xanatos spluttered and looked at him like he'd declared his undying love for Jar-Jar Binks. It sparked a bit more of that warmth he'd lost.
"I—That's not…He--"
"And you shouldn't worry about the Council, I'm fairly certain that they will see the necessity. With the reappearance of the Sith, they can't afford to abandon Anakin to fate."
"Obi-Wan!" Xanatos' whole being practically radiated frustrated bewilderment. "You-- Wait, Sith? What are you talking about? Why do you think I should be Anakin's master?" he demanded.
"Because you'd do well together Xan," he answered placidly.
"You can't just say… I mean, I've never taken an apprentice, I don't know the first thing about—Why not you?"
He was grasping at straws and Obi-Wan wanted to laugh at the absurdity. "Xan, I'm just a padawan, with an uncertain future at that. Qui-Gon asked me to, but I'm not a knight, not ready. So I'm fulfilling my promise as best I can. Just because you haven't had an apprentice, doesn't mean you wouldn't make a good teacher."
"What about Qui-Gon? Once he's recovered?"
"You know as well as I that he won't be in any state to train an apprentice for a long time. Besides," he continued quietly, "I… don't think Qui-Gon is the right master for him, Xan. Something's not right about it."
Xanatos looked at him intently, perhaps understanding how incredibly difficult it was to say those words, how disloyal they felt. And how strongly he must feel in order to say them. Finally, Xan looked like he was considering the idea seriously.
"Why me?"
Obi-Wan offered him a twisted half-smile. "I suppose you mean aside from your qualities as an excellent Jedi? You can understand him, Xan. His situation is unique; his attachments, his family ties. You can help him find a way to have those and still be a Jedi. You can help him find a balance."
The faint grimace around Xanatos' eyes was not encouraging. His face was pale and his mouth drawn, like he'd eaten bad grekti soup.
"I've never found balance for myself, Obi-Wan. What makes you think I can help him?"
"I believe in you," he said simply.
A knock on the door to Qui-Gon's room prevented Obi-Wan from seeing Xanatos' reaction. He turned and found a palace page, a young girl about Anakin's age standing in the doorway. Dull eyes looked over the room's occupants and then rested on Obi-Wan's boots.
"Last meal in the Queen's Hall, sirs. I'm sent to fetch you."
For some reason, her voice unsettled him. It was innocuous, a voice any girl her age could have, but something about it seemed off. As he reached into the Force, the girl met his eyes and Obi-Wan felt flash of anger and fear quickly hidden. Obi-Wan stepped forward, but the page was already slipping away down the corridor.
"Obi-Wan."
Xanatos stood next to him, his shoulders straight and his expression confident and focused.
"I think you're wrong about this, Obi-Wan. However…I'll do as you ask." A grin stole across his face. "But only if it becomes necessary."
Following him out, Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether to be grateful or very, very worried.
to be continued...