Title: Setting A Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

Author: Syntyche

Archive: In the highly unlikely scenario that someone would actually want to archive this, ask me, please. Just so I know where it's going.

Rating: PG for one or two not-too-nasty words

Disclaimer: Star Wars = George Lucas. Not me. I wouldn't have a prayer of making any money off this anyway.

Timeline: Obi's 22.

Obi-torture with resultant Qui-angst: Mild

Qui-torture with resultant Obi-angst: Also mild. Really more ridiculous than anything.

Summary: Some records are better off left unbroken .

Author's Dedication: Though she deserves (much, much) better, I am dedicating this - without her knowledge - to Obi the Kid, whose humor fic causes spontaneous giggle fits, and usually at times when I'm supposed to be somewhat serious.

Also: This story is obviously a sequel to 'Setting A Precedent,' so it kind of helps to read that one first. Just so you get some of the jokes. Well, uh, one of them, to be precise.

Alsox2: it's really, really cheesy. It's been sitting on my hard drive since 'Setting A Precedent' was finished, I just never posted it because of the cheesiness factor. On the other hand, I've noticed that both of the stories I'm working on, as well the next two lined up to post after 'Loyalty' and the TPM Rewrite, all contain fair amounts of Obi and Qui angst and injury. So, to even it out a little, I'm going to post this fine and tacky piece of work. Two things to remember - 1. cheese. 2. suspension of disbelief. That's why the sections are nice and short.

Setting A Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

By: Syntyche

Obi-Wan Kenobi returned to awareness somewhat warily, as if he knew this place called consciousness consisted mainly of being poked and prodded and stuck with very long needles in more places than he cared to think about.

He was certain that his head was tightly sandwiched within a crate of sweaty workout socks, and he ran his tongue ran across his teeth gently, trying to dispel the feeling that he'd been sucking on spider webs. His eyes didn't want to open, but he made them, just a tiny bit, in case there happened to be more over-enthusiastic nurses with needles lurking about in the dark corners of the room. He'd had a bit too much - Obi-Wan grimaced, both at the cheesiness of the pun as well as the truth of it - exposure to them lately.

There were no nurses in his immediate line of vision, and Obi-Wan sighed in relief. He'd been given entirely too many sponge baths during his brief stay in the Athzanian medcenter and his fingertips and toes he was certain would be permanently shriveled.

He was groggy and he was in pain, but happily, Obi-Wan didn't care. He was being discharged - today - and he was ready to go. With a profound sense of relief, Obi-Wan looked expectantly near the side of the bed, where he knew the loyal presence of his faithful Master would be anxiously waiting for his wounded Padawan to awaken and reassure him that he was fine and healed and ready to leave. They could leave this horrid, backwater medcenter with its overeager nurses and lunatic Healers and incur other injuries on more sophisticated planets.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to gently wake his loyal Master, and received quite a shock:

The chair beside the bed was empty.

Completely and absolutely empty. No sleeping Master keeping a devoted vigil over his injured Padawan, ready to stroke his hand or hair or bring him water for his parched and raspy throat. No relieved "good morning, sleepyhead," for the wounded apprentice, or even a look of wry sympathy that said, "Obi-Wan, you're at the Healers far too much, but you're finally being discharged . again."

No cheery tug on his braid.

No warm hug of congratulations!-you're- back-in-the-land-of-the-living-Obi-Wan!!

No one to discuss this most recent cause for angst with.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Obi-Wan was disappointed, to say the least.

"Well, fine," he muttered aloud, folding his arms over his chest somewhat crossly and wondering just exactly what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Just when he needed a good, encouraging braid-tugging, too.

Fortunately, the once again recovering Padawan didn't have to wonder long. His errant Master, the venerable, greatest-swordsman-in-the-Jedi-Order Qui- Gon Jinn, came strolling through the door a few moments later, munching contentedly on a chocolate bar.

"Sorry," Qui-Gon said apologetically around a mouthful of chocolate.

Obi-Wan shrugged nonchalantly; it would be undignified and un-Jedi-like to sulk. "It's okay."

"Chocolate?" Qui-Gon offered, breaking a square off the end of his bar and presenting it to the reclining Padawan.

"For breakfast?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Qui-Gon nodded patronizingly in a way that suggested he equated Obi-Wan's question along the same lines as his Padawan suddenly asking him if he'd sprouted a new head and a few more arms to join it. Obi-Wan shrugged again.

"Love some."

Obi-Wan accepted the piece and munched on it thoughtfully. Then, "How long till I'm out?" he asked as he sucked the gooey chocolate off each fingertip.

"Sit up, Obi-Wan, or you'll choke," Qui-Gon reprimanded, snatching a pillow from a nearby bed and tucking it behind his apprentice. Obi-Wan winced as his bandaged ribs were jostled and settled himself back against the pillows carefully. "As soon as I sign the release forms, if you can manage to leave the premises without further injuring yourself," he said in answer to Obi- Wan's question.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan rejoiced jubilantly, thrusting a fist in the air in a gesture of triumph. "Free again! This place gives me the creeps.," he confided in an undertone, casting his eyes around the room nervously. "I have a bad feeling about it."

"Obi-Wan, everything gives you a bad feeling," Qui-Gon remarked dryly with a longsuffering smile. "I think we should look into special sessions with the mind healers to figure out where these 'bad feelings' are coming from," he added.

Obi-Wan shot his Master a dour look. "I'm serious. These people are way too excited about their technology - even if it is ages behind the times."

At that, Qui-Gon had to agree. The Athzanians were a bit ... excitable about their newly improved medical technology, and while Qui-Gon was supremely grateful for the updated machinery - it had saved Obi-Wan's life after all - the Athzanians were making him a bit uneasy with both their excitement about their equipment and their obvious inexperience in using it. It was an odd thing, Qui-Gon mused, when a culture's technology was more advanced than the people who utilized it.

"I have to say, though," Obi-Wan continued after a thoughtful pause, tapping his cleft chin reflectively, "this place is far better than the Healers' on Dantooine. Not as nice as the bigger Corellian medcenters we've been to, though."

"I'm glad you're such an expert," Qui-Gon teased sardonically. Dantooine had been pretty bad, though. Qui-Gon absently brushed his sticky fingers on his tan tunics, leaving a slight chocolate smudge near the hem.

"Well, Master, you did say I speak from experience," Obi-Wan reminded his venerable Master. "Experience which I am certainly ready to forgo - and I do not wish to remain here one second longer."

The young Padawan started to sweep the light blanket aside but at an eyebrow raised pointedly by his Master, Obi-Wan quickly yanked the blanket back over his legs, a crimson flush making its way up his neck. "I always forget," he muttered. "I hate these sithly things." His fingers went to the back of his collar and he tugged on the strings of the medcenter gown.

Qui-Gon grinned at him, placing his Padawan's neatly folded clothing at the foot of the bed. "I know, Padawan. I'll be just outside keeping the females at bay while you change," he volunteered helpfully.

"You're a real hero, Master," Obi-Wan muttered darkly, annoyed by his Master's teasing. It wasn't his fault about the nurses, anyhow. He fingered his tunics absently, noting a familiar weight was missing. "Got my rock?"

Qui-Gon nodded, tapping his tunic over his chest to indicate said rock was safely stored in his breast pocket. "Yes, Padawan. I'll be outside when you're ready."

After his Master had left the room, Obi-Wan leapt from the bed, immensely pleased to be released yet again. Jerking the gown over his head, he tossed it to the floor with a shudder and carefully slipped into his clothing, mindful of the tape - tape! for Force's sake! - binding his ribs firmly into place. He commed the Healers and let them know he was ready to go and perched on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on.

"Padawan? Padawan, are you ready??"

Qui-Gon reentered, though somewhat slower than he'd left. His semi-faithful vigil over his Padawan's bedside had left him tired, and he'd not been able to find a single tea dispenser in the entire building. He was becoming somewhat bleary as his chocolate-induced adrenaline spike wore off. Consequently, the tall Jedi Master paid less attention to his surroundings as he was normally wont to do; he tripped on Obi-Wan's hastily discarded med gown and the thin material tangled in his boots and threw him off- balance.

"Master!"

Startled, Obi-Wan hopped off the bed and reached out to grab Qui-Gon as he stumbled, but the Padawan had overestimated his own lingering weakness and the sheer largeness of the older Jedi. Obi-Wan's legs gave out under the sudden weight of his Master and he collapsed to the floor with a grunt, his arms cradling Qui-Gon. His strength wasn't sufficient to keep his Master's head from striking the floor with a dull thud, and Obi-Wan groaned as his Master slumped into unconsciousness.

"Master? Qui-Gon?? Come on, Master," he said worriedly, slapping Qui-Gon's face gently, "wakey-wakey, come on, Master, you didn't hit that hard ... come on ... "

And at that instant, Obi-Wan's excitable and paranoid Healer walked in.

"Master Jinn! Oh, Master Jinn!" The Healer was in an instant panic at the sight of the unconscious Jedi on floor being supported by his concerned apprentice. "I told you that chocolate for breakfast was very, very bad for you! And those nasty, greasy beefcakes for dinner! It's probably his heart!"

"No, wait - " Obi-Wan began, holding out a hand frantically to stop the Healer, but the doctor had already slapped the intercom button and was calling for assistance. "It's all right - " Obi-Wan leaned forward urgently, but Qui-Gon jerked unexpectedly at the movement and his forehead impacted with Obi-Wan's still-healing ribs. Obi-Wan's plea choked off with a moan as his breath rushed from his body, and unfortunately this directed the Healer's professional attention back onto him.

"And you, Padawan Kenobi! We'll need to see about your ribs again!" The man was trying to speak calmly, but Obi-Wan could see excitement in his eyes and the nervous energy that engulfed his movements. Can't wait to use his new toys again, Obi-Wan thought vaguely, with a pained sigh, but he couldn't speak past the fresh throbbing in his ribs. Please, Master, he thought, jostling Qui-Gon as much as he was able, now would be quite a good time to wake up...

But his Master didn't awaken, and the Healers had lifted Qui-Gon onto a stretcher and were out the door practically before Obi-Wan had time to blink. Black spots were dancing in his vision and Obi-Wan struggled to rise and explain the misunderstanding, but word was out that Kenobi Needed Treatment!! and a nurse had already entered with a hypo topped with a needle the size of Obi-Wan's index finger. Obi-Wan's head was still spinning from the pain of his ribs and he didn't have the strength to fight her off as she gripped his wrist. I need to get to Qui-Gon! I need to get to Qui-Gon! His last conscious thought as she jabbed the hypo home was, Oh Force, please not another sponge bath...