Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Following a traumatic toe-stubbing incident, Obi-Wan's life hangs in the balance and Qui-Gon finally realises how important his Padawan is to him.

Genre: Parody
Rating: K+
Warnings: Inexcusable Padawan abuse and excessive mush
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, locations and other elements remain the property of their respective copyright holders. This work is not for profit.

A/N: We all love those hurt/comfort stories and poor old Obi-Wan seems to suffer more than most. Here is my attempt at this popular genre... slightly tongue in cheek ;)

"Master, have you seen my boots."

The 18 year old Padawan came into the common room of the quarters that he shared with his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan's feet were bare and his face showed uncharacteristic irritation.

"Hmmmm?" replied his master, who was staring into a full length mirror that was propped up against one wall of the room.

"My boots, Master. I can't find them."

Qui-Gon sighed impatiently. "Really, Obi-Wan, you know I'm far too busy and grumpy to care about your footwear. Now stop bothering me."

"Sorry, Master," the Padawan muttered, returning to his bedroom, from whence loud bumping noises emanated shortly afterwards.

Qui-Gon ignored the din, as he was occupied with his daily scowling exercises. In a weeks time, the annual Cranky Masters Tournament would be taking place and he was defending his title in the Advanced Frowning category.

He was trying out a complex brow furrowing technique, when he heard an almighty thud, followed by his Padawan's voice shouting "Sithspit!"

The Jedi Master frowned even more deeply at the swearword, then checked out his expression in the mirror.

Hmmm, he thought in satisfaction, that may be the look that wins me the award for the third year running.

He supposed that he ought to thank Obi-Wan for inspiring this impressive scowl, but that would entail showing appreciation for his apprentice, which was forbidden by the Jedi Code.

Of course, Qui-Gon didn't usually give a bantha's backside for the Code, but he had no intention of allowing any touchy-feely 'considerate' nonsense to tarnish his reputation as the most unsympathetic master in the Temple.

The young man's swearing on the other hand, was not something that he could let pass without reprimand. After all, it was his Force-given duty to seize every opportunity to criticise his apprentice.

Stomping into Obi-Wan's bedroom, wearing his second-best Padawan-scolding expression (he kept his best in reserve for emergency scolding situations), he found the young man huddled on the floor, clutching his left foot.

"What in stars name are you doing, Padawan?" he demanded.

Obi-Wan had some difficulty replying as he was biting his lip in pain, but he managed to mumble something that sounded like "ub ny koe."

Being a highly experienced Jedi Master, Qui-Gon easily interpreted his apprentice's garbled words.

"Well, of course you stubbed your toe," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "What do you expect if you wander around with bare feet? You should be wearing your boots."

Obi-Wan stared at him in frustration but wisely remained silent.

"Why are you still on the floor?" was Qui-Gon's next question.

"Ik eelly hurk."

"For Force's sake Padawan, if you can't put up with a little bit of pain, how do you ever expect to pass your trials?"

Obi-Wan looked at the ground, shamed by his master's words. Qui-Gon was right, he should release the pain into the Force but the agony he was currently feeling was unusually severe for a stubbed toe.

The Jedi Master frowned at his cringing apprentice for a bit longer, then huffed loudly.

"I really don't have time for this, Obi-Wan. I have an important glaring contest with Mace Windu in ten minutes and I don't intend to be late."

He swept through the door, leaving his Padawan curled up on the ground. Returning to the common room, Qui-Gon picked up the tall mirror and took it back to his bedroom. He didn't even notice the pair of boots that it had been concealing.

-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o

Three hours later, Qui-Gon returned to his quarters in an unusually good mood. He had managed to stare down the dour Master Windu in record time and had followed it up with some extra scowling practice. There was no way he could be beaten at the Tournament next week.

As he walked through the door, he noticed that his apprentice was not in the common room. Surely he isn't still writhing on the floor, he thought in disbelief.

Striding into Obi-Wan's bedroom, he found it empty and frowned in confusion (just a small frown as he didn't want to burn out before the Tournament). He experienced an unaccustomed twinge of concern, but shook it off immediately.

At that moment, his comm bleeped and he answered it.

"This is Chief Healer Maydupp Naym," a familiar voice informed him. Qui-Gon knew all the healers very well, as he and Obi-Wan spent a lot of time recovering from injuries.

"We have your Padawan here," Master Naym continued, "and I'm afraid he's in a critical condition."

"What?" Qui-Gon was dumbfounded. Surely even Obi-Wan couldn't get himself that badly injured while in the Temple.

"He fainted while studying in the Archives and they brought him here," the healer explained. "He appears to have a very serious injury to his left big toe, which is now threatening his life."

"How can that be?" Qui-Gon stuttered. "He only stubbed it."

"Ah yes," replied Naym, "it's a very rare complication that can occur after a toe stubbing. I've only seen one case before and that one was fatal. I advise you to come to the med wards straight away... and prepare for the worst."

Qui-Gon stood in stunned silence, the inactive comm clutched in his hand. He could barely comprehend what had happened. Suddenly he realised what a fool he had been. The glaring contests, the tournament, his surly reputation - all of it meant nothing if Obi-Wan was lost to him.

He raced to the med wards in record time to find the healers wheeling the young man into an operation. Maydupp Naym held him back when the distraught master went to throw himself on the unconscious body of his apprentice.

"We have to operate right now or it may be too late," he said grimly.

Qui-Gon sat with his head in his hands as the healers worked to save his Padawan. How could I have been so stupid? he wondered in despair.

He thought of all those times that Obi-Wan had risked his own life for his master: the blasters he had stepped in front of; the grenades that he had thrown himself on; the ten-foot-tall, bloody-fanged, razor-clawed, shrieking lizard creatures that he had fought single-handed (actually, it was surprising how often they had met those lizard creatures over the years).

And all the young man had ever asked for in return was his master's affection, which had been so cruelly and shamefully denied to him. Finally, Qui-Gon understood that he had been blind all these years.

"You selfish, uncaring idiot," he denounced himself. "Unworthy, despicable wretch. Evil, accursed vermin. Disgusting, foul, repulsive scumbag; rancid, stinking heap of..."

"Ahem."

Qui-Gon looked round to see Maydupp Naym standing beside him.

"How is he?" asked the self-flagellating master. "Please tell me he's going to be alright."

"Well, it was touch and go for a while, but he'll pull through," replied the healer, who had clearly been watching too many medical dramas.

"Thank the Force!" Qui-Gon exclaimed, struggling to restrain his tears of relief. "Can I see him?"

"Yes, of course. He'll be regaining consciousness any time now."

Qui-Gon rushed to his apprentice's bedside and leaned down to drop a tender, but totally non-slashy, kiss on the young man's forehead.

"Obi-Wan," he pleaded, "come back to me, my Obi-Wan. I've been wrong all this time and I only hope you can forgive me."

At this, his Padawan opened his beautiful blue-grey or blue-green or possibly green-grey eyes and gazed up at him.

"There's nothing to forgive, Master," he murmured with a smile like that of an angel.

"Thank you so much, little one," Qui-Gon said reverently, not caring that 'little one' was not the most appropriate nickname for an 18 year old youth. "I'll never treat you so despicably again. I love you Obi-Wan, in a platonic, quasi-paternal way of course."

"And I love you too, Master."

At this, Qui-Gon's eyes overflowed with heartfelt (but also very manly) tears and he held back a sob.

"I wish you would call me Father," he whispered fervently.

"I would like that more than anything," replied his beloved Padawan. "But would that be permitted? Surely the Council..."

"Worry not, young Obi-Wan," interrupted Yoda, who had appeared out of nowhere as he tends to do in situations like these.

"Although usually forbidden such attachment is, for you and Qui-Gon an exception we will make. Special you are. More sentimental than any Jedi ever before."

Master and apprentice looked at each other with a blissful expression and fell into an affectionate hug, while Yoda beamed in delight.

As the ancient green master left the room, the healer called him aside.

"Master Yoda, don't you think this is a bit out of character?" he asked in confusion. "Jedi don't usually behave like this."

"Care about that, I do not," the wrinkled old troll replied with a smile. "Fifty credits I have bet on Mace Windu to win the Tournament. Make a fortune I will."

With a wink, he shuffled off through the door, leaving the healer to ponder the mysterious ways of the Force.

- END