Duel of the Fates by: Andy Beres Rating: PG Keyword(s): Jedi, Obi-Wan focused piece Summary:  Obi-Wan just before Qui-Gon's death, through his battle with Darth Maul, and some grief over his death. Type: Angst back Disclaimer: I do not own the charcters from Star Wars: Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. They all belong to George Lucas. Qui-Gon was forced backward, met with angry hiss of the connecting light sabers – his and Maul’s. His expression was grim, concentration governing his complexion. Obi-Wan remained trapped behind the maroon force field that prevented him from assisting his master. He silently pleaded for the field to fade into oblivion so that he might make himself useful instead of leaving Qui-Gon to face this peril alone. And then with one quick, low jab, it had been finished. Maul’s duel-sided saber had pierced through the flesh of Qui-Gon’s stomach. There would be no more gallantries for the venerable Jedi knight as he crumpled to the floor, all the while a surprised look fixated upon his features. “Nooooooo!” Obi-Wan cried out in disbelief, his deep, compassionate blue eyes immediately filling themselves with sadness and regret. These same blue eyes glistened with the threat of tears escaping these capsules of vision. He’d slightly foreseen it; something terrible occurring to his master, but he’d remained in mild denial of it… until it happened. He forced back the unshed tears for his master, the man who’d been like his father all his life, for he’d never had a chance with a real father. Qui-Gon had rescued him from a life of abuse… raised him, taught him… and now it seemed he was gone. “No… he’s still breathing,” Obi-Wan ushered his thoughts. The force field faded and his attention was snapped back to Maul, who went on the offensive as he deflected a blow from Obi-Wan’s blue saber. He countered with an offensive of his own, spinning for momentum as he did so. The battle went back in forth, neither granting any considerable advantage to other… until Obi-Wan slipped up. His concentration wavered to Qui-Gon and he was met with a boot into his chest, sending him backwards and into a circular pit that was the central-most figure in the room. His arms instinctively flailed outwards and his strong and quick hands caught themselves on a protrusion from the interior of the pit. He was forced to support himself upon this as he gazed around him, praying that a course of action through itself at his now dangling feet. His thoughts were interrupted as Maul kicked Obi-Wan’s light saber down into the pit, leaving Obi-Wan with a feeling of hopelessness.  Though he couldn’t understand why, he felt compelled to gaze in Qui-Gon’s direction. And at that moment an idea did spring to him, as his still sad, but remarkably focused eyes caught sight of Qui-Gon’s light saber. It was as if it were calling him, as if it had a voice of it’s own… No… it didn’t have it’s own voice… it had Qui-Gon’s. Obi-Wan forced himself upward, leaping from the pit as he called Qui-Gon’s weapon to him, his left hand meeting it in midair, having all ready activated it as he landed on the medal floor.  A bewildered Maul was left to stare as Obi-Wan sliced a neat across his stomach. The Sith fell backwards into the pit, body separating into two pieces as they fell downward. Obi-Wan’s attention immediately shifted as shifted he caught sight of Qui-Gon. “Master!” he called as he ran to him swiftly, feet pounding against the floor beneath his tired feet. He leant over his body, kneeling beside him, one hand supporting his head, while the other found itself pressed against Qui-Gon’s wound. “Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon muttered after a soft groan. “Yes, master?” his apprentice spoke, voice filled with all the heart and care that was within him. It was a soft-spoken, yet brilliant pair of words. “Promise… Promise me you will train the boy…” Qui-Gon managed, his voice horse and dry. Obi-Wan nodded quickly at the master’s command, not any thought given before he agreed to honor Qui-Gon’s wishes. Obi-Wan’s hand, still covering Qui-Gon’s wound, now felt his master’s atop it.  Qui-Gon’s other hand reached up to touch his padawan’s face. A few moments later, it went slack… and Qui-Gon was gone. “Master,” Obi-Wan muttered with an unexplainable calm hysteria. He lowered his head, his forehead matching up against Qui-Gon’s, arms circling his body as he cradled his fallen master, eyes once again brimming with tears that this time fell. It wasn’t until many minutes later that Obi-Wan gathered himself enough to venture away from the generator room that housed Qui-Gon.  He gazed back a few times before he finally tore his eyes away from the sight. It was now his responsibility to see that the insurrection had been a success. He ventured towards the throne chambers where they’d planned to capture the Viceroy, all the while alone with thoughts of regret and self-deprecating condemnations of failure. Padme smiled upon Obi-Wan’s entrance to throne room, a look of elation at his safety… until she fully could see his face. His eyes, though did all he could to hide it, were still filled with regret and sadness, his face showing vague signs that they had been tear-soaked a short time ago. “Oh no,” Padme muttered, her smile fading as quickly as it appeared. Obi-Wan attempted to remain strong, dropping his head in a valiant effort to gather himself. His face was slightly contorted as still he tried to hide the pain that was so very evident. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I’m so sorry,” Padme spoke, the sincerity of her words obvious as she strode towards the young Jedi and fiercely pulled him into a hug. Obi-Wan buried his face in her shoulder, crying one more… crying the same way he had when he’d cradled Qui-Gon’s body. “I failed him… I failed him,” he muttered. “No, no, you didn’t fail him,” Padme soothed. His sobs came harder as the emotion poured from his body. “I’m so sorry…” he spoke, but not to Padme. “It’s all right…” “What am I going to tell Ani?” he managed. “Don’t worry about that now,” she replied, “Don’t worry about that.” And so he didn’t. Obi-Wan merely wept… wept for Qui-Gon, wept for himself… he wept.