Lineage III

Part 15: Learner

Qui Gon Jinn leaned wearily in the doorframe. He had nothing to say; there was little for him to do. And yet he lingered.

Bant Eerin was happily stroking and comforting, as confident and serene in her newfound role as any waterbird afloat upon its native sea. "Hush now," the Mon Cal girl murmured, the Living Force twining gently round her words, tendrils of reassurance spreading softly in its light. Qui Gon smiled a bit. "It's all right, really – I know it feels awful, but it's helping you. You need it. Try to relax."

Her patient shifted restlessly, one hand twisting in the pale coverlet. "Bant…. Bant, I hate this," he groaned.

The apprentice healer raised lovely spherical eyes to meet Qui Gon's gaze. One webbed hand kept stroking. "Master Jinn… perhaps you can help?"

But he shook his head. "I'm sorry. Some things must be endured."

The Mon Cal Padawan's posture conveyed a sorrowful agreement. She blinked slowly and turned around again. "Obi, if you would relax I could help you sleep. Then you wouldn't have to feel so sick… are you listening to me, stubborn bantha-head?"

The mumbling reply was too slurred to be understood. Qui Gon shifted his weight, dissatisfied, anxious. Deserved or not – and this was certainly a deserved consequence of self-neglect – it was difficult to ignore the waves of revulsion and discomfort echoing across his bond with Obi Wan.

Ben To Li appeared at his elbow, peering into the small, darkened room. "Well?" he inquired.

Bant glanced meaningfully in his direction. "It really doesn't agree with him, master," she reported mournfully.

The senior healer sighed, and idly twisted the end of his beard. "That is unfortunate but not unexpected," he confided in Qui Gon. "However, at this late stage we have little other recourse. I can't believe you let the boy reach such an acute degree of illness, Jinn. It's shameful."

"I stand guilty as charged."

"It's not your fault," BenTo snorted. "He's lucky not to be dead. A non-Sensitive would be by now. Speaking of which, did you know they employ these bioticide drugs in conventional treatment centers on a routine basis? I was just speaking with a colleague from the Coruscanti Medcenter in the Yorbel district, and he says most people don't register any reaction at all, beyond increased lethargy. Remarkable."

"The Force can be both a blessing and a burden," Qui Gon remarked, watching his delirious apprentice squirm and resist all attempts at soothing.

"Indeed. Imagine rampant destruction of millions of organisms being wrought inside your own body, and feeling nothing at all," BenTo mused.

Qui Gon's gut twisted. "Can't you just knock him out?" he demanded, gesturing at his suffering Padawan. A lesson was one thing; needless cruelty another.

The healer's brows drew together and he nodded. "Yes, I think you're right. Bant. Bant, I think it's hopeless. Just sedate him; this will have to be done the uncivilized way."

"Yes, Master Li." The Mon Cal girl rose and departed, excusing herself as she slipped past the two elder Jedi on her way to a supply cabinet.

Qui Gon sighed softly to himself. "Obi Wan," he growled, determining to add ill without master's permission to the boy's lengthy list of misdemeanors pending punishment.

"I've told the Coruscanti police that Du Crion was responsible for Chun's death," Mace sighed. "A deception necessary to preserve the Order's respect and reputation within the Republic."

Qui Gon's mouth thinned. "You play your role well."

Mace wheeled about, temper stirring. "Don't, Qui Gon," he warned.

They kept walking, the shadows of the stately trees stooping close to eavesdrop as they passed along the groomed walkway. "What of the holocron that went missing?"

"It's gone. A loss we will live to regret, I fear."

"Sifo Dyas wanted Xanatos to yield over information about Offworld's holdings and corporate alliances," Qui Gon informed him. "Perhaps he will seek to wrest that information from another source."

"Leave him to others," Mace advised. "Yan has sworn to apprehend him. The Shadows are capable of… disciplining their own."

Qui Gon exhaled slowly. "You know what I think of the Shadows."

"I know. You aren't in charge of the Order's internal structure."

"Evidently." Qui Gon's lips twitched. "Since you sit on the Council."

Mace ignored the pointed jest, eyes crinkling a little in amusement. He changed the topic. "How is your Padawan faring?"

"He'll survive to grow wiser. As we all have."

Mace chuckled. "With you as his master, that will constitute a small miracle of the Force."

Qui Gon smiled serenely. "I look forward to witnessing it."

They walked onward, side by side.

"At least four weeks," Ben To Li repeated, sternly. "Do I make myself understood, Padawan?"

Obi Wan's habitual insouciant spark was missing. "Yes, Master Li," he intoned.

"We will make sure your instructions are fulfilled to the letter," Qui Gon promised. "I give you my word." He added a severe and appraising glance at his slightly wilted apprentice.

The Padawan's shoulders slumped an additional notch downward.

"Cheer up," the healer advised, chucking him lightly beneath the chin, "You could be trapped here with me for the duration of your recovery. Of course if that's what you prefer, I can always change the official prognosis…"

"That won't be necessary," Obi Wan muttered.

They bowed to BenTo in unison and set off along the corridor, Obi Wan trailing a pace behind his master, offering no bright and teasing conversation. Qui Gon kept his hands folded in opposite sleeves, striding at a measured pace, not looking back.

Halfway to the residential levels he stopped, turning about. His Padawan was visibly lagging.

"Obi Wan."

"I'm sorry, master… it's… I need to rest," he finished lamely, coming to a halt and immediately casting his gaze downward to the passageway's inlaid marble floor.

Qui Gon inhaled deeply. "Sit," he said, gesturing to a nearby bench. His apprentice sank down, gratefully, pulling the Force about him like a crecheling's blanket, a cocooning at once comfort and protection.

The tall master waited patiently. Three courses of antibiotics had annihilated the virulent infection; but the aftereffects of both ailment and cure were pronounced. Ben To had been very pointed in his recommendation. Making Obi Wan cooperate would be more challenging.

"I'm ready," the young Jedi announced, after a short interval. He stood determinedly, still looking flushed, but shoulders squared and chin held high.

Qui Gon jerked his head in the direction of their quarters and led the way, again allowing his student to trail behind a pace or two, in the traditional manner. If any who saw them stared, noting the change from their customary warmth of manner, it was of no concern to him. Let the whole Temple gossip about it if they would; public opinion was of no consequence to a Jedi.

At the door to their shared apartment, Obi Wan hesitated, looking up into his mentor's face, as though wishing to break the unwonted silence between them. Qui Gon's face was calm, neither inviting nor refusing questions. But the young Jedi looked away again quickly, unsure how to proceed.

"An apology would be an insufficient but appropriate beginning," Qui Gon informed him when they had crossed the threshold.

Obi Wan bowed to him. "Master, I… I do not regret my actions, but…"

The tall Jedi rested two hands on his belt. "Then let us not belabor the point."

They stood, silent, at an impasse.

"Is…Master Uvain coming later?" Obi Wan asked, hopefully.

"No. She is on a mission." There would be no Tahl to comfort and coddle, to cajole and console. Not for either of them. She was gone.

"Oh." The Padawan was visibly disappointed. He raised a hand and rubbed at his neck.

More silence.

"You need rest, and I need to meditate, " Qui Gon decided. "We will discuss the matter of your actions further tomorrow. Before the Council."

What little color had not been scoured from the Padawan's face by illness was now drained swiftly away by dread. "Yes, master."

Qui Gon nodded once, tersely, dismissing the boy to his own room. He watched Obi Wan disappear forlornly into his small sleeping quarters, and sighed deeply.

Whatever other instincts might try to interfere, no matter the rebellion fomenting in his heart, he would not fail his Padawan in this one essential respect. Discipline was at the core of a Jedi's life; there could be no revoking of its claims.

Even so, after he had finished his lengthy meditation, he indulged in one short detour to spread an extra blanket or two over the sleeping figure, rendered into an illusory innocence and vulnerability by slumber. This did not count as a lapse in his resolve, because the Padawan did not stir or give any indication of noticing the gesture, and Tahl was not here to make trenchant remark upon it.

After a few more minutes, he turned and retired to his own bed.

Yoda wrinkled his nose, ears twitching cantankerously. "Deny any of this, do you, Padawan?"

Obi Wan stood at the center of the circle, the focus of all twelve Councilors skewering him with unremitting insight. Qui Gon stood a few paces behind, observing neutrally, hands hidden deep in his cloak's sleeves. He nodded in approval at his Padawan's valiant effort to keep his mental shields flattened; the only sign of his acute discomfort at being so minutely dissected was the flush spreading up the back of his neck and ears.

"No, master, I do not," the young Jedi answered, subdued.

Mace Windu steepled his fingers. "And your reason, again?"

Obi Wan shifted infinitesimally. "With respect, master, I acted on the prompting of the Force. I would not have so done had it not guided me."

The Korun master raised his eyebrows. "Really? The Force told you to do something your master and this very Council would have and did forbid outright?'

The Padawan squirmed, but in such an assembly there was no hope of prevarication; and besides, such was as foreign to Obi Wan as the notion of ignoring the Force's command. "Yes, Master Windu. It did."

A flicker of amusement passed between Yoda and Mace; a ripple of other reactions spread along the periphery of the circle. Qui Gon exhaled slowly.

Yoda snorted. "Master Jinn's student this is, no doubt."

The flicker of amusement intensified and faded. Slowly. Of course, not a single face betrayed any emotion. Qui Gon pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes a trifle. Very funny.

"Very well," Mace decided. "We can sense your sincerity in that regard. And in light of that circumstance, the Council has decided that your actions do not merit expulsion."

Obi Wan's mouth dropped open, and then clamped shut again. His alarm was a vibrant claxon of distress in the Force. More than one of Councilors raised a knowing eyebrow.

The Grand master harrumphed deep in his throat. "Think you a game in the crèche is this, Obi Wan? Disobedience a grave failing is. Forsworn you are, if your own judgment you elevate above all others', hm. What say you to that?"

Qui Gon recognized the warning glint in the old troll's eye; but his young apprentice was not so jaded, or experienced. "Master," the Padawan replied readily, "I followed the will of the Force, not my own whim!"

"So certain are you of the Force's guidance, without any direction? Perhaps Knight you we should tomorrow. Perhaps your own Padawan you should take. Eager am I to learn from such a prodigy. Your student I will be."

Appalled, Obi Wan actually took a pace backward, against all protocol. The Council stirred. Ki Adi Mundi cleared his throat.

Yoda stood upon his seat, wrinkled face crumpling into a dreadful expression of displeasure. "Well, young one?"

The beleaguered apprentice dropped to one knee, head bowed. "Master. I apologize for my arrogance. I - I did not intend self-aggrandizement. I do not wish to stray from the path – my only wish was to fulfill the Force's command, not to seek my own will."

Yoda relented, squatting back down into place, fussily rearranging his frayed robe.

Mace leaned forward, expression softening a trifle. "We believe you. But there is a lesson to be learned here. Pride is a dangerous flaw; I think you will agree."

Miserable, Obi Wan nodded. "I will accept the Council's correction," he murmured, still kneeling. Qui Gon's gut clenched, and he breathed out the fickle emotion. Pity was not needed here. The decision was the right one.

"Good," the Korun master rumbled. "Padawan Kenobi. The Council, on the recommendation of Master Jinn, has decided to assign you to the Agri-Corps for a full duty –rotation. You will spend your time there reflecting on the humility and obedience required of one holding your rank in the Order, and you will temporarily revoke the privileges accorded to you as such."

Qui Gon closed his eyes, absorbing the blow that echoed across his bond with Obi Wan. The Padawan was silent for a full minute before he finally found his voice. The Council waited, unperturbed ,while the sentence - and the humiliation it entailed- sank in and settled.

"Yes, my masters," Obi Wan managed, at last. He stood, chest rising and falling visibly beneath the crisp double line of his tunics.

Qui Gon moved forward, held out a hand.

ObI Wan glanced up at him, blue eyes betraying a world of unspoken pain, and then looked to Yoda again, if not seeking clemency, then at least wishing for a word of comfort.

But the ancient one only nodded once, stern as the light falling in rigid lines upon the cold floor. Obi Wan slowly, solemnly, unclipped his saber – the lovingly crafted work of his own hands, and relinquished it into Qui Gon's keeping, a part of his heart going with it, tearing a small whimpering wound in the Living Force. The master placed it beside his own weapon. Setting his own jaw, he gently reached out and tugged the boy's tabards free of his belt, lifting them off the Padawans' shoulders, and folding the cream cloth into a neat bundle. Obi Wan swallowed once, standing rigid as he was publicly stripped of the honoraria.

He did not flinch until Qui Gon's fingers found the braid dangling behind his right ear. But the master merely tucked the thin plait into the boy's short nerftail, hiding it from view. His hand brushed against the Padawans' shoulder when he was finished, feeling the taut stretch of muscle beneath his fingers, the terrible ache resounding across their bond.

They stood, side by side, awaiting the Council's approval.

"Dismissed, you are," Yoda chuffed, merciless. "May the Force be with you."

Not until they were ensconced in the south spire's lift did he dare speak. "It was my recommendation," he answered his Padawan's unspoken question, heart twisting beneath his ribs.

"Yes, master," Obi Wan said, though no sound accompanied the words. His chest spasmed, a little.

Qui Gon wiped a trailing tear away with his thumb.

It was still the right decision.

Dooku was not subject to the whims of sentimentality.

"Du Crion was a failure on my part," he admitted, emotionlessly, crossing one leg over the other. "Though I am loathe to admit it. I had thought there might be hope of redemption for him."

"You are growing soft-hearted, my master," Qui Gon teased, though his smile was a bit forced.

Dooku shrugged. "Talent should not be wasted. The Republic has need of its fruits. In an age of corruption, skill and intelligence should be guarded more closely than ever."

Qui Gon finished his meal. "Indeed."

"Speaking of which," Dooku continued, implacable, "I was glad to hear that you have finally decided to take a strong hand with that Padwan of yours. The boy requires severe discipline. I've never met such an obstinate personality… except you, of course." He grinned, a feral flash of teeth, a rare phenomenon that had been described as rakish in the man's youth.

"Hubris is a danger for all of us; I must teach as occasion arises."

Dooku sniffed. "Hubris is a matter of perspective."

His former apprentice stood. "Your friend Sifo-Dyas might have benefited from your wisdom in that regard, master."

The older Jedi rose with him. "He shall benefit from my wisdom when next we meet. A traitor in the ranks of the Sentinels is an abomination not to be tolerated. Force willing , our blades shall cross again one day."

Qui Gon shuddered in the ice wind howling through the Force, the frigid echo of Ilum's peaks. He looked upon the lonely pinnacle of Dooku's private dedication, and wondered at the fey light kindling deep in the older man's eyes.

They parted at the entrance to the dining hall. "Oh…ah, Qui Gon?"

A moment's pause. "Yes."

"A word of advice. Do not mistake attachment for teaching."

"I would never commit the folly of mistaking an object lesson for affection," Qui Gon assured him, a hint of bitter memory edging his words.

"Hm," Dooku replied, and strode away, his dark cloak billowing softly at his heels, the Force sliding like quicksilver over the signature echo he left in his formidable wake.

Bant's embrace was far longer than would be appropriate, but she was afforded a degree of empathetic expression in excess of convention, due to her healer's status. Still, she abused it shamelessly. And in the docking bay, no less.

"You'll be all right, Obi. I'll miss you. Don't get hurt – I want all the fun for myself."

Her friend smiled. "May the Force be with you, Bant. Don't worry about me; attachment is forbidden, you know."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Don't lecture me, you gundark. You're supposed to be practicing humility."

He frowned, and the Mon Cal blinked in apology.

"Until later, Bant." Obi Wan bowed, collecting his small satchel, and turned toward the boarding ramp with a heavy heart. Qui Gon stood at its head. "Master."

"You haven't asked for my parting advice," the tall man chided him.

Obi Wan's eyebrows contracted into a pained valley. He heaved in a deep breath. "Master," he began, "I will do honor to your teachings, and the Order. I understand… that is, I –"

Qui Gon held up a hand. "I told you that the occasion of your second offense would merit strict discipline."

"Yes, master, I remember, and I accept your decision. " The Padawan's eyes shifted sideways, to the bustling Temple hangar bay. "I did choose willingly. But… I am sorry to have caused you grief. I would not lightly defy you." He risked an upward glance, difficult emotion reflected in blue-green depths.

The Jedi master laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know, young one. I too understand what it is to choose between obedience and the will of the Force. But as Jedi we must find a path that does not exclude either."

Obi Wan looked at him, quizzically.

Qui Gon held his gaze for another long moment. "...Which is why I am coming with you. We can perhaps learn a great deal together during this upcoming time. Besides, I don't trust you to stay out of trouble on your own."

He was rewarded with a smile as dazzling as the pure snow of Ilum's peaks under the rising sun, a reflection of the Living Force's boundless joy.

"Yes, master... I would not wish for you to miss any of the trouble, either."

Brat. Qui Gon felt an answering smile tug at the corners of his mouth, and suppressed it with some difficulty. "Get on board," he ordered, sternly.

His Padawan obeyed with an alacrity bespeaking mischief abrew, some of the characteristic swagger already returning to his gait.

Qui Gon raised an eyebrow, and braced himself for a long and mettlesome journey. At least BenTo had slyly given him a parting gift of peruma tea, a potent soporific commonly used in the Temple creche to ease sleepless nights. Some of the pressure about his heart eased, and he closed the ramp with a ray of hope breaking over the shadowed horizons ahead.

"I think we shall have tea together, Obi Wan," he decided. "See if the ship's supplies include a water boiler."

"Yes, master," came the ready reply from the passenger hold.

Qui Gon chuckled quietly to himself and joined his unsuspecting Padawan in the forward compartment.

Much darkness might lie in wait, crouched behind the mutable ramparts of the future; but now, in the present moment where their focus belonged, all was well.

END BOOK 3