Archive: Master & Apprentice, CKoS, all others please ask first Catagory: POV, Angst, Drama, AU Rating: PG-13 Spoilers: None Feedback:  Oh, pretty please!  This is a departure for me and I'd like to know what you think for good or ill.  I can take it.  On-list or off to ghouses@ureach.com or ghouses@yahoo.com Summary: Qui-Gon cares for his Padawan after the Battle of Naboo. Disclaimer: "This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended." That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Notes: Many people encouraged me to stick with this story -- my first completed piece in over a year.  The lovely ladies on PhantomSlashers did an onlist beta of the beginning.  Thanks to Fox, Isabeau and several others -- you set me straight about a great many things.  Thanks also go to RavenD, who provided a fast beta and gave me suggestions for a crucial portion. Ah, Gloriana!  Double-dip, chocolate-covered Jedi confections are just the beginning of what you deserve, but a good start.  Any idea where I can find some? \\indicates thoughts, * indicates emphasis, \* is mind speak * * * * * * * The Ceremony by Glass Houses December, 2001 * * * I will try not to worry you. I have seen things that you will never see. Leave it to memory me. Don't dare me to breathe. --R.E.M. * * * The small gathering in the Great Hall was formal and quiet.  The group stood in pre-dawn stillness, their eyes fixed on the high window at the Hall's end. Then the first rays shone through the window, illuminating the pure white garments and vibrant blue robe of the Padawan who stood apart from the group with Jedi Master Mace Windu.  At the touch of the light, the Padawan bowed his cowled head and knelt.  The soft whisper of the blue silk robe against his linen clothing was the only sound in the chamber. The deep bass of Mace Windu's voice echoed in the large space. "Present your petition." Qui-Gon stepped forward and handed a datapad to the Councilor.  Windu accepted it, but didn't move to read it. "What ask you, Qui-Gon Jinn?" "I ask that my Padawan Learner Obi-Wan Kenobi be acknowledged by the Council and all the Jedi Order as a Knight on this day," Qui-Gon answered in a practiced, neutral voice that couldn't completely hide a hint of pride and affection. "Do you swear on your honor as a Jedi that he is ready for such decoration and burden?" Mace countered. "Yes, I swear it upon my own honor." "Who stands for the honor of this Jedi Master, that I may accept his oath?" A tiny, wizened figure stepped forward from the gathering with the help of a walking stick. "Vouch for Qui-Gon Jinn's honor, I will.  His Master I was and am." Windu bowed slightly to Yoda, who shuffled back to stand with the witnesses. Qui-Gon spoke the next question of the ceremony to Mace. "You have tested my Padawan.  Do you speak for the Council?" "I speak on their behalf." "What says the Council of his worthiness?" A brief pause broke the steady tempo of the formal, scripted statements, and a slight smile played at Windu's lips as he said, "The Council has deemed him worthy." Mace turned to the assembly, raising his voice to proclaim, "Both Council and Master deem this man ready to wear and bear the title of Knight of the Jedi Order." Qui-Gon couldn't completely hide his smile as Mace addressed him again.  "Your petition is granted by my own oath on this morning, Master Jinn.  Give your last command to your Padawan.  Have him rise and take his place at our side." Qui-Gon turned to the kneeling figure and drew a small silver knife from a pocket in his tunic.  He indulged himself a few seconds by sliding his fingers down the length of the braid, before following it to its root, still hidden under the hood.  Holding it firmly at Obi-Wan's temple, he cut through the thick strands in one stroke. Wrapping the length of hair in a square of silk the same blue as Obi-Wan's robe, he extended his hand and said, "As I trained you by my hand, take it now and rise, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." A pallid hand reached from beneath the blue robe, grasped his -- and pulled him to his knees with an inhuman strength. The cloaked head lifted to reveal Obi-Wan's face twisted in pain.  Blood flowed copiously from his mouth; rivulets flowed onto and stained his white tunic. *"Obi-Wan?!"* * * * Qui-Gon woke in his own bed with a gasp.  Not the same dream as the previous night, but not very different either. He'd dreamt of Obi-Wan almost every night since they'd battled the Sith on Naboo nearly eight months before.  Over the last month, however, the dreams had taken on a much darker tone. Heart-weary and exhausted, he deliberately relaxed his muscles, slowed his breathing and tried to return to sleep.  He needed to be up early. Eventually, he slept. * * * Qui-Gon was nearly ready to leave his spartan quarters early the next morning when the door chime sounded.  Expecting the visitor, he voiced the door open instead of going to it, and indeed it was Padawan Quetral bearing a small, potted, pale blue plant with thin leaves and a startlingly deeper blue bud. "Thank you Padawan.  Here, I'll take it; I'm about to leave anyway." She handed him the pot, but instead of bowing and leaving as was her habit, she stood facing him. "Master Relan asked me to tell you..." the stocky Padawan hesitated, "this will be the last clipping he can spare from the vine."  The last was said with an audible swallow and a quick bob of her scaled head, a sure sign of nervousness for her species. \\Master Relan should have told me himself,\\ Qui-Gon thought dourly, but only thanked the messenger quietly.  They walked out of the door together and soon parted ways as he headed to the Temple's lower levels. He nodded to those he knew along the way.  Occasionally someone wanting to exchange a few words stopped him, but he always excused himself quickly.  Everyone seemed to assume he had free time these days, as if he didn't have a Padawan to attend to.  They probably already knew that Obi-Wan would be Knighted as soon as he recovered -- the news of their exploits on Naboo and the reappearance of a Sith was common knowledge at the Temple before they even returned to Coruscant -- but Qui-Gon wasn't yet ready to take on new teaching assignments or missions. Qui-Gon finally arrived at the base of the massive Temple, and entered the Healer?s wing.  The staff, some just arriving, others leaving from a night shift, motioned to him or murmured greetings.  He knew them all.  Making his way unerringly, he arrived at a nondescript door that opened under his palm. Inside, the room seemed suspended in perpetual twilight. A bed in the center of the far wall neatly divided a number of medical monitoring devices, whose numerous display panels and blinking lights provided the room's only illumination. An emergency service 'droid stood idle in one corner.  The only sound was a precise, slow breathing. Moving to the light control, he gradually increased the luminosity.  Obi-Wan had never been a morning person, and he didn't want to startle him.  The increasing light revealed a slim figure lying on his side, with knees slightly flexed and arms drawn close to his chest.  Obi-Wan's hair was messy; grown out slightly from his familiar Padawan cut, it looked brittle and dull.  His pale gray eyes were open and fixed forward in an unblinking stare. Qui-Gon strode to the bed, placing the plant cutting on a small side table.  He removed its withered counterpart -- the plant that he had brought last week -- and placed it in the room's waste bin.  It was a shame that Gellen vines could only survive in extremely regulated environments.  They were Obi-Wan's favorite; he loved the scent their leaves produced.  The clippings Qui-Gon brought to his Padawan's bedside slowly lost their aroma as they withered.  \\Bringing fresh clippings shouldn't be such an issue,\\ Qui-Gon thought, considering all the time Obi-Wan had volunteered at the Temple gardens with Master Relan, caring for the only remaining specimens of a plant whose native planet was too ravished by pollution to sustain it. After a quick, satisfactory check of the monitoring equipment, Qui-Gon pulled open the bedside table?s drawer -- which was well stocked with medical supplies -- and removed an ointment tube. "This will sting just a bit, Obi-Wan," he murmured as gently rolled his Padawan onto his back, tipped his head so that both staring eyes faced up and squeezed several drops into each.  Since Obi-Wan's blink reflex had ceased a few weeks ago, the drops were necessary to keep his eyes from drying out.  He lifted Obi-Wan's head slightly, replacing the drool-stained cloth under his head with a fresh one, and settled him back, brushing the hair away from his eyes. A quick check to the small, square device attached near Obi-Wan's right collarbone revealed a suitable supply of bacta, which suffused itself at regular intervals under the skin.  Obi-Wan's organs had begun to fail one after another, but when the healers finally attached the small injector, he'd slowly stabilized.  Why they waited so long was still a sore point with Qui-Gon -- they'd had vociferous arguments about it at the time.  The bacta also had the added benefit of eliminating Obi-Wan?s bedsores. "Time for morning exercises; you can't just lounge all day," Qui-Gon teased.  He slipped his cloak off, sat on the bed next to the prone figure, pulled the blanket off one leg, and began massaging, stretching and flexing it.  The fine musculature of Obi-Wan's compact body was nearly gone, leaving him looking starved and gaunt.  \\It will take several months of hard work in the training salles to regain his old form,\\ Qui-Gon mused. There were medical appliances that performed this service; they attached to a patient?s limbs, and sent small electrical charges into the muscles, forcing them to clench and move.  Qui-Gon couldn't stand the things, and after discovering them in operation one day shortly after Obi-Wan came to the healers, had forbidden their use, coming three times per day himself to perform the necessary stretching and flexing exercises. As Qui-Gon began working on the other leg, the door opened behind him and he sensed the calming presence of Healer Marliksen whom he greeted without stopping his ministrations.  "How is he this morning?" she asked softly, her slim form hardly coming up higher than the height of the bed. "Fine.  His color is definitely better, and there seems to be more flexibility in his knees today." The Healer said nothing, rather set about pulling down the blanket from Obi-Wan's chest to attach a feeding device to the shunt on his lower abdomen.  At first, Obi-Wan's swallow reflex had been strong enough to allow him to swallow liquids and be fed soft foods, but he now required intravenous fluids, and meals, \\such as they were,\\ Qui-Gon mused, were delivered direct. "That's not pestel fruit again, is it, Marli?" Qui-Gon smiled, easily falling into the morning routine. "No, Qui-Gon, you know I know he's not fond of it," she retorted, but her smile was thin and quickly faded.  "Please, Qui-Gon, let me complete the stretching this morning.  With decalcification there's always chance of fractures..." "If he's going to get better, he needs a gradually more vigorous workout," he interrupted with a cool smile.  "We've been over this before, Marli."  She was a skilled Healer, no doubt, but obviously not a trainer of Padawans. Healer Marliksen only nodded, removed the now empty feeding device, and covered the shunt area with a fresh, bacta-soaked cloth.  "I'll be outside if you need me." Qui-Gon nodded absently as she left.  The atrophy was getting worse in Obi-Wan's hands; they were beginning to twist in on themselves like a Traklid's claws.  He would spend extra time flexing them tomorrow. After completing the stretches, Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan with the blanket and allowed himself a few moments to just sit and speak quietly about the goings on in the Temple and with Obi-Wan's friends. One unseeing eye shed a tear -- \\I added too many drops\\ he thought -- and Qui-Gon reached out his hand to brush the liquid from Obi-Wan's cheek, letting his fingers linger, tracing too prominent bones under the milky skin.  The motion brought back memories of that fateful moment on Naboo, and today he let them sweep over him... * * * Qui-Gon dispatched the stunned Sith with one stroke, then dropped the 'saber and rushed to where Obi-Wan lay crumpled.  Kneeling, he lifted Obi-Wan into his lap, cradling his head in the crook of his arm.  Obi-Wan struggled for air, taking fast, shallow, open-mouthed breaths.  Bright red blood oozed and bubbled from his mouth and drops strewed on Qui-Gon?s face from the forceful exhalations. "Obi-Wan, hold on.  Hold on, my Padawan."  Qui-Gon felt the tension resonating within the Living Force ease, and knew Amidala?s forces had been successful. "The Queen has captured the Viceroy.  I?ll get help." He activated his comlink with his free hand and got through to Panaka, diverting his attention from Obi-Wan only long enough to relay his location and the need for swift medical help. Obi-Wan?s eyes never left his but his eyelids began to droop and the ragged breaths were slowing.  Qui-Gon rocked him and stroked the bloody face, lowering his forehead to touch his Padawan's.  "Obi-Wan!" he commanded sharply, "Stay awake.  Stay with me!" He started when he felt a caress on his face, and realized that Obi-Wan had improbably lifted his hand to touch him.  With that touch a flood of Obi-Wan's emotions washed over and into him.  Serenity, rising from a sense of duty and destiny fulfilled.  Love, a love so deep and boundless and pure that it stunned him.  Sorrow of a future together denied.  A last message: \*I will wait for you in the Force, Master.*\  Then the hand dropped to Obi-Wan?s wounded chest, and his eyes closed. No!  He may have shouted it vocally or only mentally, but he focused his energy and life force into the wounded body in his arms and dispensed that energy with substantial skill into Obi-Wan?s torn, seared lungs, willing them to wholeness. Two days later a Nubian transport brought an unconscious Obi-Wan to the Temple's infirmary.  The healers didn't know how he'd survived, but his condition began to deteriorate almost immediately, and he never awakened. Yet he did survive, and Qui-Gon's quarrels with the Healers, especially Marli, soon began.  After three weeks, Obi-Wan's eyes began to open, even if they did not respond to stimuli.  Why did they not see that as a positive sign? After several months Obi-Wan's limbs began to flex, and his hands drew in on themselves, so Qui-Gon insisted on beginning intensive stretching sessions.  Shortly thereafter, Obi-Wan's swallow reflex failed and Obi-Wan had to rest on his side, so as not to choke on his own saliva, and again the Healers were doubtful.  But that setback was easily overcome when Qui-Gon demanded a feeding shunt be inserted, and he even gained a few pounds. Yes, his organs began to fail, but they'd slowly stabilized when Qui-Gon overrode Marli's objections and she surgically attached an intravenous bacta unit.  Then two weeks ago, Marli summoned him in the night.  Obi-Wan could no longer breathe on his own.  She'd tried to convince him to let his Padawan die!  The memory still galled Qui-Gon.  Why did they underestimate Obi-Wan?  Didn't any of them understand that he just needed more time to recover?  Qui-Gon again insisted on an implant that now controlled Obi-Wan's breathing -- a tiny, subcutaneous chip which stimulated the lungs, forcing them to expand and contract.  Equally galling was the way Marli acquiesced to his desperate request -- as if she were doing this for him, not Obi-Wan. "He won't recover, Qui-Gon.  I truly don't know why he isn't dead, but he *can't* recover.  But I will do this one last thing..." Marli didn't understand.  Obi-Wan hadn't died because Qui-Gon had commanded him to live.  So he continued the daily routine he'd come to think of as Obi-Wan's interim training regimen.  Obi-Wan would not only recover, he would attend his Knighting ceremony and then, their Bonding ceremony.  Qui-Gon hadn't decided if he would invite Marli.   * * * Qui-Gon turned to look at the kneeling figure and extended his hand. "As I trained you by my hand, take it now and rise, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." Obi-Wan took his hand and rose in a smooth, graceful motion.  Qui-Gon looked down at the radiant face for a second then swept him into a tight hug.  The hug was returned, but it was so tight -- too tight.  Obi-Wan?s arms felt like iron bands across his back, and his breath was slowly crushed out of him.  Terror and pain twined and he felt his ribs snap and still the arms squeezed tighter.  Then the grip was gone but the pain continued as he collapsed to the floor, unable to breathe.  The witnesses were walking away, and Obi-Wan turned to follow. "Obi-Wan, don?t...leave..." Qui-Gon managed to whisper.  The blue-cloaked figure stopped and turned. "Don?t worry, Master," Obi-Wan said with a slight smile, "I will visit you in the infirmary every day." Qui-Gon woke with a shout, and was unable to sleep for the rest of the long night. * * * It was a haggard-looking Jedi Master who entered Obi-Wan?s room the next morning, going through the usual routine.  As planned, he began the morning?s massage with Obi-Wan?s gnarled hands, stretching the right wrist and then the fingers on that hand. Their mobility had decreased in just the last several days, and Qui-Gon pulled them back, applying more pressure than usual to each one. "We can?t let your hands atrophy.  You need your strength there." Dissatisfied with the limited flexibility, Qui-Gon began stretching harder, first massaging the base of each finger then flexing it backward.  The comforting motions had him wistful and deep in thought. He felt - then heard - a sickening ?crack? and Obi-Wan?s index finger snapped back at the first joint in an unnatural angle. Qui-Gon released the hand and jumped back to his feet as if he'd been shocked.  Dark energies swirled around him and the air was punctuated by sharp sounds -- his own harsh breathing, he realized -- as he stared down at Obi-Wan?s hand.  The index finger remained distended, even as the rest of the hand curled back in on itself. He looked down at Obi-Wan's hand with its now distended finger, and looked past that to see, actually *see* Obi-Wan for the first time since Naboo. \\"Oh, Force what have I done?  What am I *doing*?"\\ A wave of regret and sorrow pulsed through him and when he had fought through it, he found himself sitting on the bed with an anxious healer standing beside him.  He didn't trust himself to speak, but motioned to Obi-Wan's broken hand. Marliksen gently ran her three-fingered hands over Obi-Wan?s wrist, hand, and finally the injured finger.  Qui-Gon saw it twitch, then move back to its curled position along side the rest.  She sighed heavily, and lay Obi-Wan?s hand down gently on his chest.  "It becomes harder to heal him each time." Qui-Gon hadn?t stopped to think that he may have injured Obi-Wan before without knowing.  He fought bile back down his throat and stood to face Marli. "I would like it to happen in our quarters.  He was never comfortable in the infirmary." Marli didn't ask what he meant, but but her expression showed she did wonder at the sudden change of heart after eight, obstinate months. "I will arrange for that." "I have my own arrangements to make.  May I come back at seventh hour?" "Yes, I'll see that he is ready." Qui-Gon looked hard at Marli, and realized that he'd never truly seen her before. "Thank you," he said simply. She nodded and bowed slightly as he left. * * * Qui-Gon left the Infirmary and made his way up the levels of the massive Temple until he was at the base of the central tower, wondering again why the Council saw fit to set themselves above the giant bulk of the Temple where so many beings trained, taught, died.  He'd crossed them on many occasions, but he was also one of the best field operatives they had, and they usually trusted his findings.  Until his last mission. Pushing the dark thoughts and memories away, he approached the coadjutor stationed at a huge sweeping curved desk in front of the entrance to the lift leading to the Council tower. "I request a quorum for a Knight's petition." "Your name?" "Master Qui-Gon Jinn, petitioning for Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi." The tentacled creature behind the desk closed her eyes as she accessed the data strip wrapped above her left ear pod. "There is no record of an appointment for a Petition today." "I have not filed the Petition in the usual manner.  I wish to make it in person.  Such is in my right as a Jedi Master," he added somewhat sharply. Purple eyes opened and regarded him intently.  "Such may well be your right, but it is also the right of the Council to deny a hasty request." Qui-Gon tucked his hands in the arms of his cloak, took a deferential step away from the counter and nodded his head.  "I understand that my request seems impetuous, but I assure you it is not.  I know the Council is engaged with matters of great import.  I only seek a quorum, not a full session." "A quorum is available..." The strange eyes closed again, then opened sharply.  "They will see you," she said, with a hint of surprise in her raspy voice. Qui-Gon bowed and stepped into the lift. He entered the great chamber and came to a halt in the center, crossed his arms inside his cloak as a sign of respect, and bowed.  Slowly the mental traffic between the five counselors tapered off and they turned their attention to him. "You wish to make a Petition for Obi-Wan?" asked Mace.  "Has there been a change in his condition?" His face gave nothing away, but Qui-Gon knew him well enough to feel the strange mix of curiosity, sympathy and hope in his mental bearing. Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and centered himself.  "Obi-Wan will not survive the night..." His throat constricted, and he stopped.  Putting this simple fact into words was much harder than he had expected or prepared for.  The Council waited patiently for him to continue. "I had hoped to make his Petition after his recovery, but that is not possible.  I seek Knighthood for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and submit his final actions on Naboo as proof of his readiness in place of any formal Trials." Depa Bilaba and Ki Adi-Mundi visibly started at this statement.  Mace cast his eyes downwards, and again Qui-Gon was aware of mental communication, like a feathery touch along the flow of each Council member's Force-signature. In the silence that followed, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, again struggling to control himself after stating his intentions.  He was startled out of his reverie by Mace's deep voice.  "From your mission report, we were not aware there was exemplary behavior on Padawan Kenobi's part to justify such a request." Qui-Gon was shocked, and looked from Windu to Poof, and finally his old friend Plo Koon, whose masked face gave nothing away. "Obi-Wan fought a *Sith* ..." "Padawan Kenobi allowed himself to be separated from you during a crucial battle.  He moved ahead of you during the fight and allowed himself to be cut off.  He left you alone, I might add, without thought that the Sith might have had reinforcements.  "He ignored years of training, sought to engage the creature on his own, and was defeated." Qui-Gon was stunned into silence. "Fighting the Sith was an amazing thing for a Padawan to do, but in the end it was you who killed the Sith, not him," Depa added softly. "Qui-Gon, I know it's uncharacteristic of him," Mace continued, his tone now gentle.  "Because of Obi-Wan's exemplarity performance as a senior Padawan, he would have only been censured had he...recovered.  After a satisfactory probation period, you could have applied for his Petition.  There is no need now for such an action to be reflected on his record, of course..." "Censured!?"  Qui-Gon all but shouted.  He calmed himself with difficulty, looking at each Councilor for similar signs of outrage at Mace's statement, but found only sympathetic stares. "Qui-Gon..." Mace began, but he was backing away from them all now, dizzy and enraged. "Master Jinn!" came a sterner warning from Mace, but Qui-Gon only turned and strode from the chamber.                                          On to the next part...