The Hand Dealt

Summary: Just before boarding the ship to escape Naboo, Qui-Gon is injured. Now, it's Obi-Wan who has to find the hyperspace generator, Obi-Wan who meets Anakin—and the new hand changes things. AU.

And from there, everything is different.

Warning: This starts as a TPM re-write. I have no idea where it's going to end up :D (enjoy!)

"I feel as if my whole life has been nothing but a dismal play, presented for someone else's amusement, and that the playwright who invented my cruel twist of fate is somewhere far above me, laughing and laughing at his creation." -Series of Unfortunate Events

Prologue: A Dismal Opening

The last Naboo pilot stumbled up the ramp and through the open hatchway into the ship. Flicking his wrist, Obi-Wan deflected another blaster bolt, sending it careening into the droid that had fired the initial shot. It collapsed into a pile of sparking parts. When no blaster fire immediately followed, he scanned the hangar. There weren't any more droids within blaster range, but there were reinforcements pouring in. The Royal Hanger of Naboo was empty and the only he and his master still needed to get aboard the Queen's yacht.

Taking advantage in the resulting lull in blaster fire, Obi-Wan caught his master's eye. Qui-Gon tipped his head in response. Permission granted, Obi-Wan dashed into the ship, knowing that his master would cover his retreat and then follow.

The Jedi Padawan had only just crossed the ship's threshold when a loud thump sounded on the ramp below. The echo of a quick, dull pain jabbed down his training bond before it was tamped back.

Worry splintered through his gut. He spun around to see what had happened to his master. Qui-Gon was collapsed at the base of the ramp, reaching for the ship's struts in order to prop himself upright. Quick as a flash Obi-Wan was sliding back down the ramp towards his master. He sent out a wave through the Force, sending the droids skidding backwards, breaking their formation. He grasped Qui-Gon's arm, levered the tall man upright and he settled his master's arm around his shoulders.

With the help of the Force, he half-dragged, half-carried his very heavy master up to the ship, grateful that Qui-Gon was still awake and coherent—apparently he had not been shot anywhere vital. Their complaints mingled together (Obi-Wan's about tall and heavy masters, and Qui-Gon's about the indignity of being dragged) as they piled into the ship. Obi-Wan slammed a fist on the door closing mechanism.

"Ramp's up! Go!" Obi-Wan shouted down the corridor. He heard his command echoed by various voices deeper inside the ship. As the ramp hissed closed, he saw the battle droids, reinforcements, massing around the cruiser. The pilot's voice hummed over the intercom, telling everyone to prepare themselves for takeoff. He took several deep breaths, thanking the Force he'd gotten his master out of there in time.

The engines below the deck shuddered as the take off sequence neared its end. Pilots and handmaidens scuttled through the narrow corridors, running into each other and skittering around in their haste. The Force swirled with their tension and fear.

Anticipation and adrenaline hummed through Obi-Wan's veins; they had to get into the air before the Federation's ground troops could rally and deploy their artillery.

But there was nothing he could do about that. With effort, he turned his focus onto the moment and directed towards something he could take care of—his master.

The older man was slumped against the wall, eyes shut in either pain or embarrassment. Or both. Surveying his master with a frown, Obi-Wan saw that all of Qui-Gon's weight was on his right side; the tip of his left boot barely grazed the deck, but Obi-Wan couldn't see where he had been shot.

Qui-Gon raised a hand at his apprentice, trying to wave away the younger man's concern. "It's nothing, Obi-Wan. I merely…wrenched my knee."

Obi-Wan barely held back a grin. So he really was embarrassed, he thought, relieved that the problem was so minor. Most Initiates were able to avoid wrenching a knee while blocking blaster fire. That such a well respected, celebrated fighter had wrenched his knee while standing still on flat ground blocking the badly aimed shots from droids was mortifying.

I wonder how much fun Master Windu will have with this one? Obi-Wan wondered wickedly.

"Don't you dare tell Mace about this, Padawan!"

"Master, really. You wound me," he responded with every ounce of honesty that he was capable of projecting. "I wouldn't dare tell a Council Member something like this!" But I would tell your childhood friend he mentally qualified. The Padawan had to struggle to keep his anticipation internal—there was no entertainment in the galaxy better than watching Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn bicker like Initiates.

But a wrenched knee wasn't the kind of thing that could be fixed with a bacta patch. It required time and rest—effectively putting his interfering master out of commission for at least the trip back to Coruscant. If they weren't already on their way back, it would have been a big problem.

It still might be a big problem, Obi-Wan reminded himself. We aren't home yet.

Despite the fact that there was no more pain leaking through the bond, Obi-Wan could see that the corners of his Master's eyes were tight with discomfort.

The cruiser took off, the force made Obi-Wan to stumble slightly into the wall and jar Qui-Gon's injured knee.

Obi-Wan frowned at his master's low hiss of pain. As the ship leveled out, he said, "Master, let's find you a place to sit. You need to get off your knee."

Qui-Gon gave him a stern look, but otherwise ignored his comment. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow in disapproving response. Qui-Gon responded to his silent challenge by calling on the Force and pushing away from the wall, putting his weight fully and defiantly on his left leg. Obi-Wan's second eyebrow joined the first, this time in shock at his master's foolish pride.

"Master!" He leapt forward and took some of Qui-Gon's weight. He immediately felt the older man sag against him. "You need to sit down!"

"No, Padawan," Qui-Gon put a soft emphasis on the title, knowing Obi-Wan wouldn't argue with him further. "We need to go to the bridge. Let's make sure we survive this blockade run."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."

It was pointless to argue. His master was stubborn. It didn't matter that the two Jedi would be completely useless on the bridge even if they had been perfectly healthy, Qui-Gon Jinn wanted to go to the cockpit and so they would.

The apprentice made no attempt to hide his disapproval, but he did maneuver himself under his tall master's left arm, taking more of the man's weight. Obi-Wan was too short for it to be a particularly comfortable situation for either of them, but for a short hobble to the bridge, it was serviceable.

The corridors were empty by that point, everyone buckled in somewhere for the dash past the blockade. Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force to find the cockpit's location. Fortunately, it was a small ship and wasn't hard to find. With a swish of the Force, the young man swept open the doors to the bridge (ignoring Qui-Gon's half-hearted chiding for using the Force frivolously) and together they entered the small room.

The pilot remained concentrated on his instruments, occasionally shouting into the comm station, but the co-pilot looked up. He was about to order the newcomers out, but Obi-Wan saw the moment the man realized that they were Jedi. He subsided back down, nodded nervously in their direction, and turned his attention back the viewscreen and his panel.

The stars that should have been readily visible now that they were outside of the atmosphere were obscured by the looming blockade. Obi-Wan frowned. The Federation battle ships were strategically laid out to cover the escape vectors. Obi-Wan hoped that the pilots in control of their cruiser were good enough to get them out of the Naboo system's gravity well and into hyperspace. Otherwise, they would either die in the nothingness of space or be captured by a murderous trading conglomerate.

Neither was an attractive prospect.

Then, he breathed out his nerves and plopped his master into the empty navigator's chair. He felt Qui-Gon's protest through the Force, though he neither objected vocally, nor attempted to get up. Obi-Wan counted it as a win.

The battle-ships loomed larger than ever and Obi-Wan braced himself with both the navigation chair and the Force as the small cruiser approached the blockade. A warning shot flashed across the bow.

He really didn't feel like dying on such a minor mission.

Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review." :D