CONNECTION - Part 3

by Anne Davenport

Qui-Gon Jinn placed his feet shoulder width apart and leaned his head back, his eyes closed. He breathed in very deeply. Then again, pushing the air noisily out from deep down in his lungs. He cleared his mind, continuing with his breathing exercise. The floor was smooth on his bare feet, but not cold. The room temperature was warm and comfortable even in the long, plain infirmary gown he wore. The lighting was annoyingly bright, even through his closed eyelids. But all infirmaries seemed to be lit that way, even in the Jedi Temple.

He had woken up a short time ago in the Temple infirmary, very happy to find that he was quite capable of getting up, bathing and tending to his own hygiene on his own. The remaining weakness and achiness in his joints were attributed to his 'unusual cellular damage' that the medical droid spoke of. But beyond 'completely reversible', Qui-Gon was not interested in the details. He would have preferred to return to his own room to recuperate, but apparently his condition was unique enough to demand that he stay for a day in the infirmary.

The droid had told him that his Padawan had rested and then stayed with him until the Council and then the Archivists had demanded his attendance before Qui-Gon had woken up. Qui-Gon was glad for time to gather his own thoughts. The Council and Archivists would soon enough come for his report on what had happened.

He stood in the center of the small, sterile private room. Standing straight, he slowly raised his arms out from his sides to assume a standing, meditative pose. He breathed deeply, aware of everything he felt. The very faint, low sound of the air circulators. The strange fatigue in his body, behind his eyes. The renewed strength in his limbs, the scratchiness at the back of his throat. He felt subtly weary, but not quite unwell, as if he might get a headache if he exerted himself.

The droid had explicitly told him that he was not to partake of any heavy exercise for the next three days before leaving him alone. Qui-Gon did not like that, but he would abide by it. He was quite certain that his Padawan would be given the same instructions and would enforce them. The stress on his body was considered to have been life threatening. But he mostly only saw that through the others around him.

He recalled waking, still on the ship, finding Master Billaba bending over him, Obi-Wan fretting behind her. He had thought about telling his Padawan to calm himself, but the genuinely concerned expression on Depa Billaba face stopped him. She had asked him if he wanted her to call for a medical capsule to take him into the Temple. That was when he had decided that they must have landed on Coruscant already. He'd stared up at her. There had seemed to be a time gap between when she said something and when he understood it. He'd nodded.

When it came, along with two medical droids, they eased him into it and took him off the ship. He'd closed his eyes and did not remember anything until he opened them again in the infirmary. He had recognized the air; it was always a bit more lifeless than in the rest of the Temple. There was talk about him resting and he knew he'd already deduced that his body wanted sleep and if he was on Coruscant then there wouldn't be any reason for him not to. But there were voices, but not from the droid that gently removed his borrowed shirt and Obi-Wan's robe. Medical droids were always very quiet and well-oiled. Everyone else was making noise.

Qui-Gon remembered turning his head to see Master Yoda looking at him. Yoda had large, expressive eyes, but Qui-Gon couldn't remember seeing such sympathy in the old Jedi master's green eyes, for him, since he was a small child. He had almost stirred himself to think about it at the time, but decided that it wasn't important enough and had closed his eyes again.

Qui-Gon now stared straight ahead at the plain white wall a few meters away with a few inset, gray medical fixtures blinking, yellow, red, blue. He knew he must have looked deathly ill to generate the sympathy he had seen around him. But he'd never sensed that himself. Disconnected from his body or tended to by Obi-Wan, he had never felt in danger of dying though everyone around him behaved as if it had been a near thing to him.

He stared forward, not seeing, not hearing, his mind blank. He didn't think, but he felt his way back to the memory of the days he'd spent cut off from the world. His senses faded into muffled gray with no warmth, no cold and then even that receded.

Everything vanished at once. His awareness became one huge void with no form, no body. And no feeling. He couldn't even feel satisfaction that he could recreate his experience. Or concern that he wasn't sure how he'd done it, or how to control it. Or remember what he'd meant to do with it. Or how to return from it. His mind expanded into the void with no body or reference and that seemed to ignite some memory of anguish, of being trapped...

Qui-Gon felt as if he were falling. A free, light-headed sensation...that ended when arms and a body caught him. He really had been falling. His eyes opened and squinted at the bright lights above. Uncoordinated, he tried to get his legs under him, his feet clumsily sliding forward. He kicked something and heard a grunt. Qui-Gon looked down at a quite vexed Master Yoda who glared back and rapped his ankle with his gimmer stick.

The arms got a firm grasp around his middle, pushed him forward and he regained his balance.

"Master?" Obi-Wan held him steady. Feeling disoriented, he put his arm around the younger man. This return to the world wasn't nearly as bad as before. He didn't think he had caused any new injury; he had not been sitting in one position for days. It had only been...

Qui-Gon had no idea how long he had been in that bodiless void. A fraction of a second or an hour were equally plausible. And he had been completely unaware of Yoda and his apprentices' presence. Obi-Wan moved him toward the medical couch and he accepted the guidance. Apparently he still had much to learn about this sort of mediation.

"Reckless, you are," he heard a raspy voice say from below as Obi-Wan pulled the blanket up over him. They both turned their heads to look down at Master Yoda. The small green Council member had sat down in the middle of the floor, his clawed hands folded over the top of his gimmer stick. His old face scrunched up in disapproval, he slowly shook his head at Qui-Gon.

"Need to pursue this, you do not."

His Padawan looked away from Yoda's disapproval and gave his own Master a simultaneously reassuring and worried look. Qui-Gon laid his head back on the pillow and raised his eyebrows back at both of them.

"So sure, you are?"

"Hmmmmmmm," rumbled low from Yoda's throat and he lowered his long ears menacingly. But he did not say any more. Qui-Gon would have been surprised if Yoda had ordered him to stop. Yoda would freely express his disapproval on any subject, but he would not forbid any exercise that did not lead to darkness or violate the Jedi Code. On those grounds, Qui-Gon was secure and it had been a very long time since Master Yoda's disapproval had troubled him.

"Save you from yourself, no one can, if you continue. And of that, I have no doubt." He flicked his stick toward Qui-Gon before carefully rising, turning and hobbling to the float chair that was parked by the door. He climbed in and the chair rose in the air. Qui-Gon sighed and let his shoulders drop. Even if he wasn't entirely bothered by a confrontation with the small and very old Jedi Master he still wasn't completely calm about it. So, Yoda's last remark from the door startled him.

"Think of yourself, you may not. Think of your Padawan," Yoda pointed his gimmer stick at Obi-Wan. "You must." Then the door slid closed behind him. There was a long silence. Then Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of Qui-Gon's medical couch.

"Master.."

"You wanted to know what I was doing when you came in–"

"I know what you were doing, Master. I don't know why."

Qui-Gon felt disappointed. "Surely you can see the value of what happened?"

"No, Master. It almost killed you. And why did you need to pursue this now?" Obi-Wan persisted, his young face and blue eyes earnest.

"Perhaps I was a bit pre-mature in attempting it now," Qui-Gon admitted. "But I needed to reassure myself that my memory was intact."

Obi-Wan shook his head and laid his hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "Master you completely cut yourself off from the living world, from the moment...from everything. I'm...concerned that you would do that. I'd thought you'd recovered from what happened, with no injury."

Qui-Gon silently looked back at his Padawan, suddenly feeling like he was the person who wasn't seeing. He had always taught Obi-Wan to heed the moment and the living world around him. He had always been strong in the Living Force. Now he felt compelled to go in a different direction.

But Obi-Wan was right. What he was pursuing was very dangerous and at odds to his own teachings. At least on the surface. The Force was still the Force, and he felt certain that this way would complement his own...in time, when he knew more. How odd, Qui-Gon thought. He knew that he was viewed as a bit of a rogue by Council members like Master Yoda. Now, it seemed, he felt drawn to rebel against himself.

He reached over and briefly laid his large hand over Obi-Wan's.

"I am recovered, Obi-Wan. Please be assured of that." But privately Qui-Gon knew he was changed, at least a little. He had been left with a terrible question that he needed to answer; if he had died on the mission, whole in mind in the Force, but still without body, what would have happened? He felt the pull of this question so strongly that it had blinded him to the perils of asking. Finally, he began to really sense that.

"You're going to continue," Obi-Wan stated, a little sadly. The long braid that hung down past his shoulder showed how many years they had been together, how well the Padawan knew the Master.

"Of course." Qui-Gon sighed, smiling and sitting back, the blanket and gown rustled together as he moved. But Obi-Wan did not respond to his cheerfulness. "But not immediately. Since I am confined to inactivity for now, I shall consult the Archives. I will be required to report to them anyway. But I cannot imagine that something like this has not occurred before." Obi-Wan's hand found his again and tightened on it. "But after I have rested a bit." Qui-Gon reassured. He had to admit that he felt drained by his short experience. He had been disgracefully overconfident about his abilities to master his circumstances during the mission when he had been held prisoner, and now yet again in his meditation. Master Yoda had ample reason to disdain him.

"I shall rest first," he promised, settling back under the blanket in that white, infirmary room. Obi-Wan smiled back, but he did not get up from his seat on the edge of the couch. He stayed, his hand still resting over his Master's, his blue eyes full of fondness and concern. And Qui-Gon though that he had a very smart Padawan.

Much to learn, Qui-Gon thought, closing his eyes.

I have much to learn.

- END -

(This story was first posted on tf.n - 16-Jan-2006)

Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.