| Title: Teach Me To Trust Author: Angel5000 Author Email: freckles5000@hotmail.com Disclaimer: These characters, and the Star Wars universe, belong to George Lucas, and not me. The only characters that I made up were Instructor Anteles and Master Na’em Retsam, although I’d rather not claim him. (If anyone is looking for a Jedi Master – you can have Na’em – I DON’T want him!). Summary: When Obi-Wan is accepted by Master Na’em Retsam after his battle with Bruck he thinks he’s in heaven. But soon things begin happening that make him fear for his safety. Will Qui-Gon be able to save Obi-Wan before it’s too late or will Obi-Wan have to find a way out of this on his own? Author Note: I’ve taken a piece of JA1, The Rising Force, and placed it in this story. It is marked by two ** at the beginning and end of the excerpt. There are paragraphs I have removed though, and I have replaced the name Qui-Gon with Na’em Retsam. Also the name imp was borrowed from someone else – I’m not sure where I heard it but when looking through my thesaurus I saw it as a replacement word for rascal, or mischievous child, so I used it. Sorry if I stole it from someone. J Warning: This story is totally AU for JA – please don’t read this expecting things to be the same. Warning 2: If the idea of abuse (physical) of a minor (13 yr old) bothers you DO NOT read any further. This story contains much of that sort of thing and if it upsets you then DO NOT READ. Thank-you. PART ONE * * * * Obi-Wan sat huddled in a ball in the corner of the room. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his eyes red and swollen from crying, and his back was on fire. Silently the thirteen-year-old boy buried his face in his arms and attempted to discover how he got himself into this situation. Really it had started a year ago, just before he had become a Padawan… **Bruck’s red lightsaber crackled and hissed as Obi-Wan desperately tried to parry with his own. For the fourth time in less than a day the two boys were locked in combat, grunting and struggling. Obi-Wan’s muscles ached. Sweat drenched his thick tunic. Bruck’s toughness surprised him. The boy was fighting desperately, as though his life depended on it. Obi-Wan realized that Bruck was just as afraid of not being chosen as a Jedi apprentice as he was. But Obi-Wan would match Bruck’s toughness with his own, and then push even harder. This was this one last chance. Bruck’s blade hummed as it angled toward Obi-Wan’s throat. A touch there would signal a killing blow, and Obi-Wan would lose the bout. A cry rose up from the crowd seated in the shadows surrounding the battle arena. Masters and students had gathered to watch the fight. Obi-Wan could not see them – he could only hear their shouts and encouragement. Overhead, AJTD6 whisked around, monitoring the match as referee. “Fool.” Bruck growled softly enough so that others could not hear about the cheering. “You should never have agreed to fight me. You can’t win.” Bruck’s shocking white hair was tied in a ponytail, and sweat stood out in droplets on his brow. He wore heavily padded black body armor. The odor of burned flesh and singed hair hung heavily in the air. Both warriors had managed to hit one another, but the touches so far had not been firm strikes. Around the arena, many of the younger initiates cheered, calling out encouragement to Bruck or Obi-Wan. All of them had heard of the fight last night. Obi-Wan heard Bant shout “Courage, Obi-Wan. You’re doing well!” Garen Muln whistled through his teeth. “You mean that you can’t win!” Obi-Wan told Bruck scornfully as their training lightsabers tangled and sizzled. “Your failure today will signal to everyone that you are not just a loser, but a liar.” The Masters had decided the fight would be without blindfolds. Bruck’s face was close, and his eyes glared at Obi-Wan with hate. The moment stretched, extended. In Bruck’s eyes Obi-Wan saw a future mapped out for him, a future in which anger ruled him and he began to hate all who opposed him. Obi-Wan reached out for the Force. He felt it flow around him, but he could not fully grasp it. Here was he boy who stood between him and his dream, who mocked him, who tricked him. He pushed against Bruck and saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes as he fell backward. Obi-Wan took advantage of Bruck’s uncertainty to aim a sizzling attack at Bruck’s face. Bruck ducked and slashed at Obi-Wan’s feet. Obi-Wan leaped high in the air. As a child, Obi-Wan had learned by fighting older students to avoid flashy attacks that wasted energy. Instead, he’d been trained to fight defensively, to block blows with small movements, or to avoid them. Instead of waiting to gauge Bruck’s attack strategy, Obi-Wan attacked suddenly and furiously. Bruck tried to block the attacks, but Obi-Wan’s lightsaber met Bruck’s with stinging power. Bruck nearly dropped his weapon. Obi-Wan brandished his lightsaber in both hands, swinging brutally. Bruck tried to block a second time, and fell back, sprawling. His lightsaber switched off and went skittering over the uneven floor. Obi-Wan slammed down, a decisive blow that should have won the bout, but Bruck managed to roll aside and grab his lightsaber. He barely had time to switch it on before Obi-Wan’s lightsaber battered down again. This time, there was no blocking the blow. Bruck’s lightsaber was knocked back into him. Obi-Wan caught Bruck cleanly between the eyes, burning his hair and scorching his skin. Bruck cried out in pain as both lightsabers burned him, and Yoda announced, “Enough!” All around the arena, the initiates shouted and cheered. Bant’s eyes were shining, and Reeft’s wrinkled face held more creases due to his wide smile. Obi-Wan backed away, panting. Sweat ran down his arms and face; his muscles ached from exertion. His head swam with dizziness. Yet he had never tasted such sweet triumph. He glanced into the shadows around the arena, and saw Na’em Retsam watching him. The Jedi Master gave him the briefest rod, then began speaking to Yoda. Obi-Wan tried to keep his rising exhilaration in check. He bowed to Yoda and the rest of the Masters. Then he couldn’t’ resist raising his lightsaber in the air to the cheers of his friends. Obi-Wan grinned and shook the lightsaber at a proud Bant, Reeft and Garen Muln. Perhaps he’d won more than an important fight. Perhaps he had won the right to become a Padawan. The cheers still rang in his ears as he went to the dressing chamber. He showered and changed into a fresh tunic. He was tossing his stained tunic into the laundry container when Na’em Retsam entered the room. ** “You fought well.” Obi-Wan turned quickly and was surprised to see Master Retsam standing before him. “Thank-you for your compliment, I tried my best.” Obi-Wan replied humbly. “Do or do not, there is no try.” Na’em said with a small smile. “Well I suppose I did my best then.” Obi-Wan returned. He kept a straight face but instead he was glowing, positively glowing. Na’em studied the boy before nodding, “You did. Have you been accepted as anyone’s apprentice yet?” He asked. Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, “No sir. You are the first one to speak with me.” “Then would you care to be my Padawan?” The words were a surprise. Obi-Wan had hoped of course, but never expected. This was the best thing that could happen to him, the very best. “Yes Master Retsam, I would be honored to be your Padawan.” As Obi-Wan said the words he felt the Force whispering to him. At the time he had brushed it off, assuming it was his imagination, but the strange feeling of dread and danger kept coming back. * * * * * * * Obi-Wan shook his head, why hadn’t he listened to that feeling? His instinct had always been good, yet at the time when he most needed to listen he had pushed them away. Now, because of his stupidity, he was beaten, sitting with his back and legs bruised and crying his eyes out. After he had become Master Retsam’s Apprentice they had gone back to Na’em’s quarters. Na’em had bone straight into telling his rules. For over an hour he had lectured, explaining every rule and expectation. There were certainly a lot of them too. Master Retsam even had rules for the rules! The first time he had realized that his new Master wasn’t quite the kind man he had appeared was a month later, near his thirteenth birthday. Obi-Wan had been rather moody that day, causing him to be more disrespectful than usual… * * * * * * * * * * "What did you say to me?" Na'em shouted. His eyes were flashing and Obi-Wan could feel his anger. Unfortunately it didn't calm him one bit. "I said, get the datapad yourself! You're so lazy and I'm treated like a slave around here! News flash- I'm not your slave to do your bidding!" Obi-Wan yelled back. There was, of course, no truth behind that statement at all, at least not at the moment. Obi-Wan was just tired and moody and didn't feel like himself. He was actually treated very well; his Master had been very kind and understanding, until now that is. With lightning speed Na'em grabbed Obi-Wan by the braid and tossed him over the arm of the couch. Only seconds later the boy's pants were down and Na'em was preparing to deliver several hard swats to his Apprentice's posterior. "This is to teach you some manners and respect." The Knight growled as his large hand connected with the boy's rear. Several times Na'em swatted Obi-Wan and it wasn't until the boy's entire backside was red and obviously very tender did he stop. Obi-Wan was sobbing so hard that he was nearly choking when his Master roughly pulled him to his feet. "Now, go fetch that datapad like I said and then go to bed. I don't want to hear another word from you until morning!" Master Retsam's voice was stern and Obi-Wan could only nod and obey. The boy was too shocked to do anything else. To shocked and definitely too scared... |