Title: Beyond the Rain Drenched Streets
Author: The Cheshire Cat
Feedback: yes, please – send email to cheshire_cat78@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Archive: sure, wherever
Spoilers: none
Timing: Pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is in those moody teen years, but no specific age.
Summary: When Obi goes out in the rain, he catches a cold. Qui gets worried and Obi gets moody. That’s it in a nutshell.
^^**Warning**^^ - There is some light (very light) Obi-torture in this. If the idea of Qui-Gon giving Obi a swat or two for misbehaving (NON SLASH) bothers you, read no further.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns them. I make no money from this and they are only a result of my overactive imagination. The title is from the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song. No infringement intended.
Note: Special thanks to all my beta’s!
****
“I’m going out.”
Qui-Gon looked out the rain-streaked windows of the Governor’s residence. “Now?”
“I need some air,” Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon frowned. “If you catch a cold from this wet weather, don’t you dare say I didn’t warn you.”
Obi-Wan smirked at his Master, somewhat rudely Qui-Gon thought, and shut the door behind him harder than was necessary.
Qui-Gon’s frown deepened. The boy was beginning to test the limits of his patience. The current governor of Im’tarys had requested Jedi monitoring of the upcoming elections. The heavy seasonal rains had prevented any outdoor exercise for the past two days and Obi-Wan had been getting restless. There is only so much indoor physical training that can be done in a confined space – especially with a hyperactive Padawan.
Obi-Wan had mouthed off to him the day before and had spent the afternoon sitting on a stool in the kitchen with a bar of soap in his mouth. His behavior had improved slightly afterwards, but this afternoon’s rudeness seemed to be another notch on the mental list Qui-Gon had compiled called “things to work on”.
_*_*_
At the same time, Obi-Wan was regretting that he’d
left their quarters. Not only was it wet outside; it
was cold, rainy, and generally miserable. What few
people were out hurried past him without looking up,
cowls or hoods drawn up over their faces to keep out
the chill. Just to be a rebel, Obi-Wan left his hood
down. He was at that awkward teenage stage where he
didn’t want to do anything he was supposed to. The
water streamed over his face, dripping into his eyes.
He wiped his sleeve across his face irritably.
“Why does he always have to be so… so… pompous?” Obi-Wan grumbled, thinking out loud.
If any of the few passers-by heard him, they chose not to answer. Obi-Wan wandered disconsolately through the Governor’s plaza, hating life in general. To put it simply, he was moody. He may have been a Jedi, but he was also a normal, moody, hormonal teenager.
As he walked, he gradually became aware that he was soaked to the skin… and quite far from the residence where he and Qui-Gon were quartered. To make matters worse, it appeared to be getting dark. Obi-Wan glanced at a large chrono-meter on the side of a building. It wasn’t supposed to get dark for another hour, at the earliest.
/Must be the storm,/ he thought to himself. Obi-Wan chewed on his lower lip. /Should I go back?/
The young Jedi ducked under an overhang out of the pouring rain. He did *not* want to go back – not yet anyway. He had the sense to realize that he’d have to go back eventually, but he wasn’t about to give Qui-Gon the chance to give him another lecture. Lately it seemed that the two of them never agreed on _anything_. Sure, they’d had problems and disagreements in the past, but it had never gone on for so long before.
Obi-Wan sank down, hugging his knees to his chest, just out of the way of the rain. He was cold, wet, and miserable. But he had his freedom, temporary though it may have been.
He sighed, hugging his knees closer. He rested his forehead on them. In the little alcove, out of sight of most passers-by, the young man feeling sorry for himself fell into a restless sleep.
_*_*_
Qui-Gon paced their quarters impatiently. His Padawan
had the irritating habit of going out unexpectedly,
but he’d never stayed out past dark on an alien world
before. He reached out with the Force to find the
boy, but found only Obi-Wan’s shields, held tightly in
place. Wherever he may have gotten to, the boy did
not want to be found. Qui-Gon groaned.
“Of all the stubborn, foolish things…” he growled to the empty room. The fact that he was being just as mulish as the boy fleetingly crossed his mind, but he shoved that thought away.
Approximately an hour later there was still no sign of his Padawan.
“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, speaking to the room. “If you’re not dead already, I’ll kill you myself.”
Then, gathering up his cloak, he pulled the hood up to keep out the rain and stepped into the streets. It may have been cold and wet, but his inventory was short one Padawan. The bond between them may have faltered these past weeks, but that did not mean his fondness for the boy was in any way compromised. If Obi-Wan were missing – well, he’d just have to do his damnedest to make sure he didn’t *stay* missing.
Qui-Gon strode through the city streets, looking about himself impatiently. He could feel Obi-Wan’s presence nearby but couldn’t ascertain where the boy had hidden himself. It was cold and damp, and the Jedi Master shivered, pulling the folds of his cloak more tightly around his body.
Suddenly, his senses told him that his Padawan was close and he looked around intently. There, huddled in a doorway, was a lump of misery and dejection. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. He’d never gotten used to the throes of teenage angst that all three of his Padawan’s had gone through periodically. But the relief he felt outweighed his irritation – barely.
“Oh Obi-Wan,” he whispered to himself. He walked over and knelt in the doorway opposite the boy.
“Wake-up Padawan,” Qui-Gon said gently.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes blearily. “Master?”
“Come on, Obi-Wan. It’s time to go home.” Qui-Gon helped him to his feet and enveloped him in a rough embrace. “Thank the Force you’re alright.”
Obi-Wan flinched inwardly. Qui-Gon had been worried about him. A worried Qui-Gon equaled an angry Qui-Gon. Sure enough, Qui-Gon pulled back from the embrace and regarded his Padawan at arm’s length. After a quick scan to make sure Obi-Wan was unhurt, he fetched the boy a clip on the ear. Obi-Wan winced. The knowledge that he’d made Qui-Gon worry about him hurt him more than his ear did.
“I’m sorry, Master,” he began, but Qui-Gon shushed him gently.
“We can talk about this later,” his Master said. “Right now we need to get you home and get you into some warm, dry clothes.”
With that, Qui-Gon matter-of-factly divested Obi-Wan of his cloak, wrapping his own about the boy’s shoulders. Qui-Gon slung the soaked garment over his arm, and, with his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, led the way back to the Governor’s residence.
_*_*_
“In you get,” Qui-Gon said curtly, pushing Obi-Wan
under the warm spray of the shower, clothes and all.
Obi-Wan slowly stripped off his sodden layers, hanging them over the curtain rod as he did so. He knew Qui-Gon was irritated with him for staying out too long, but he also knew he wouldn’t get in *too* much trouble… he hadn’t _directly_ broken any rules. There were only two things he could do that would earn him a spanking and they were a) being willfully disobedient and b) lying to his Master. He’d found that out the hard way. The downside was that he’d probably be under house arrest for the next several days. He was already going stir-crazy in the confined quarters. He sighed.
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He noticed with some surprise that Qui-Gon had laid out his pajamas for him on the counter. Toweling off, he pulled on his sleep pants and the loose fitting shirt. He then padded bare foot out into the living area.
Qui-Gon was sitting on the sofa, reading over a data-pad. He looked up as Obi-Wan entered.
“Hi,” Obi-Wan said, blushing slightly. He knew he was in for it now.
Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at his apprentice. He motioned for the boy to join him on the sofa. Picking up a steaming mug from the low table, he handed it to Obi-Wan.
“Drink this,” he ordered, sternly.
Obi-Wan sniffed the contents suspiciously. To the best of his knowledge, it smelled like some kind of herbal tea. He made a face. He hated herbal tea.
“Drink it, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, his voice as hard as iron.
Obi-Wan looked up. “Are you trying to poison me?” he asked impishly. He realized a moment too late that being cheeky was probably not a good idea at this point in the conversation.
Qui-Gon’s brow darkened. He didn’t have to say a word. His expression conveyed more than words could.
“Okay, okay,” Obi-Wan conceded. He took a deep breath and swallowed the contents of the mug. He nearly gagged. Ghods, but this stuff was awful! He gasped slightly. “What in the seven hells was in that?”
Qui-Gon smiled faintly. “It’s good for you. But watch your mouth, Padawan. I’m sure you don’t want to have it washed out two days running. That would be a new record, even for you.”
Obi-Wan smiled, despite the foul taste in his mouth.
“Go to bed, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said with a sigh. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Obi-Wan nodded, a yawn escaping. He padded softly to the bedroom area. The quarters they were in had an open floor plan. There was an archway that led into a separate room that contained two beds, but no door. It was a new experience for Obi-Wan, but he didn’t let it phase him. He was too tired to care.
_*_*_
The next morning when Obi-Wan was awakened by a
brilliant stream of sunlight onto his face, he thought
he was going to die. Then he was afraid he wouldn’t.
“Master,” he mumbled, barely coherent. “Please close the blinds.”
“It’s time for you to get up, Padawan.” Obi-Wan could have sworn his Master sounded almost… gleeful.
“Ugh.”
“Quit grunting and get up,” Qui-Gon said, nudging the boy with a booted foot.
“I don’t feel well,” Obi-Wan moaned. His sinuses had flooded on the ‘downhill’ side and the left side of his face felt like it was twice as big as the right.
“Of course you don’t feel well,” said Qui-Gon. “You went out in the rain for several hours – past dark, I might add. You’ve probably caught a severe case of the sniffles. But then, I told you that you would catch a cold if you stayed out, didn’t I?”
“Master, please don’t make fun of me. I really feel awful.” Obi-Wan looked up, bleary red eyes imploring the elder Jedi to take pity on him.
“You’ll feel better once you get up and get dressed,” Qui-Gon said in that annoyingly parental tone that everyone who’s ever tried to stay home sick from anything has heard before.
Obi-Wan glared, but sat up. His head was congested, his throat hurt, and his muscles felt as though he’d just run several kilometers with Yoda on his back.
“Master, please let me sleep. You know no one even notices me at these talks. I just stand there anyway. It’s not like I do anything useful.”
Qui-Gon frowned slightly. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan to whine. When he was unhappy he tended to either explode into a ball of fury, or retreat into moody silence. Concerned, he laid the back of his hand against Obi-Wan’s forehead in a surprisingly gentle manner. It was hot. His frown deepened. Perhaps his Padawan had contracted more than a simple, garden-variety cold.
“All right, Obi-Wan. You have my permission to spend the day in a healing trance.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“You’re welcome. Now bear in mind that I said ‘in a healing trance’ – if you’re too sick to attend the pre-election talks, you’re too sick to watch holo-vids. And no computer terminal messing about either. Is that clear?”
“Mm, hmm.” Obi-Wan was already drifting back into sleep.
Qui-Gon chuckled faintly. He stood, watching the boy sleep for a few minutes. A sudden thought struck him and he moved to the window and closed the blinds. Standing there in the dimly lit room, he could easily hear Obi-Wan’s quiet breathing. He frowned as the young man coughed in his sleep, his still thin, gangly, teenage frame wracked with such coughs. The Jedi Master winced. He walked quickly to his survival pack and dug around for his medpack. He spooned some thick syrup down Obi-Wan’s throat. The young Jedi’s eyes flickered open.
“What’s going on?” he asked around the spoon.
“I’m giving you some medicine. Be still.”
Obi-Wan obeyed without thought. He nearly gagged on the syrup. /This stuff is worse than that damn herbal tea!/
Once dosed, Qui-Gon settled him comfortably on the bed once more.
“I’m leaving Obi-Wan. You just rest.”
But the boy was already asleep.
_*_*_
Externally, the Jedi Master was an embodiment of
serenity. But behind that carefully constructed
façade was turmoil. He felt the need to be in two
places at once. The part of him that was a trained
diplomat felt the need to mediate the pre-election
talks. The rest of him desperately wanted to be with
his sick Padawan. He chafed at every delay in the
proceedings, wanting – no, needing – them to be over
as quickly as possible.
“Master Jedi?”
Qui-Gon turned to see who was addressing him and found himself opposite a rather pretty young woman.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
“Well, sir, if I may be so bold as to say so, you seem… uneasy.”
Qui-Gon allowed himself a small smile. “You would be correct in your assumption, miss.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My apprentice has come down with a slight illness. Last night, against my wishes, he went for a walk in the rain. Now he’s paying the price. And while I think he’s gotten what he deserved does not make me any less sympathetic to the fact that he’s suffering. Although he is not of my body, he is, in many respects, my child. I cannot watch him suffer without suffering myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Master Jedi. I shall endeavor to end the talks as quickly as possible.”
“With all due respect, miss, how do you propose to do that?”
She smiled up at him, a picture of innocence. Then she fainted. He was so startled, he nearly missed her, but the Jedi Master caught her before she hit the floor. The sudden motion was enough to bring the talks to a complete halt.
The Governor looked up, startled. “Master Jinn, what just happened?”
Qui-Gon looked slightly shaken. Was everyone around him going to start dropping to the floor?
“Honored Governor, I have no idea. I was just talking with her and she fainted.”
The woman in his arms stirred slightly and he looked at her. She opened one eye and very deliberately winked at him. Then she went limp again. Qui-Gon barely hid his start of surprise.
“Well, Master Jinn, in light of the circumstances, I propose we end the talks for the rest of the day.”
/End the talks?/ It was then that Qui-Gon realized the woman he was holding was one of the candidates in the upcoming election. She was scheduled to speak today. Her little acting stunt had given him the rest of the day to spend taking care of his sick Padawan. Although he never knew her name, he was eternally grateful.
_*_*_
Meanwhile, in his quarters, Obi-Wan was feeling
miserable. To start with, he was bored. His eyes
were red and puffy from too much sneezing, so he
couldn’t read. His Master had forbidden him to do
anything mildly recreational. So he lay there in the
darkness, thinking about how miserable he felt. Every
hour he’d get to pop a throat-numbing lozenge into his
mouth, but the time between the lozenges was
excruciating. The young man was surprised when
Qui-Gon entered their quarters. He hadn’t been
expecting him back for another three hours at the
earliest.
Qui-Gon explained to his somewhat woozy Padawan that the talks had ended early and he’d purchased some more medicine in the town. That part got Obi-Wan’s attention.
“More medicine?” he asked, hopefully. “Anything, Master. I don’t care how bad it tastes. Really.”
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. This was a sure sign that Obi-Wan was really, really sick. His heart ached to see him in pain.
Qui-Gon shifted his Padawan slightly, sitting down beside him on the bed. He lifted Obi-Wan into his lap, pausing briefly to notice that the boy seemed to have grown again.
Obi-Wan was slightly startled. He didn’t think he’d still fit in Qui-Gon’s lap. His Master had never had him in his lap voluntarily before. Yes, there had been that one embarrassing mission when they had been camping outdoors when the snake had surprised him… but Obi-Wan was trying to forget that. He _had_ surprised Qui-Gon when he’d jumped into his Master’s bunk… surprising the Jedi Master was not an easy thing to do.
“Ssshhh, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “You’re going to be alright. Drink this down and sleep some more.”
Despite the foul taste, Obi-Wan accepted the steaming mug. It wasn’t herbal tea this time, but rather something with a vaguely fruity flavor. Once he’d finished it, he leaned his head against Qui-Gon’s broad chest and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Qui-Gon smoothed back the boy’s hair, thinking how young Obi-Wan looked when he was asleep. Yes, he was still angry about his Padawan’s disappearance into the rain the day before, but there was a time and a place for everything. Now was the time to be compassionate. The time for sternness would come once the boy had recovered.
_*_*_
With the help of the purchased medications and Jedi
healing techniques, Obi-Wan’s fever broke sometime
later that evening.
Small beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and he shifted in Qui-Gon’s lap. The Master smiled faintly. He rose, gently settling the sleeping young man on the bed. He stretched. His muscles had cramped from sitting still for so long. Looking down at Obi-Wan, his smile broadened. The young man would be hungry when he woke up. That much was obvious - Obi-Wan was _always_ hungry.
/I’d best see about getting something to eat,/ he thought.
_*_*_
The next morning, Obi-Wan was feeling infinitely
better than he had the previous day. That was the
good news. The bad news, as he was well aware, came
in two sections. The first of which was that he now
had to attend the pre-election talks. He sighed.
They would be boring and no one would even acknowledge
his presence. The second was that he had to face the
music with his Master for going out in the rain.
Some days it was better just to stay in bed.
The morning went relatively uneventfully. Qui-Gon did not say anything out of the ordinary and the talks went smoothly. Lunch, too, passed normally. By mid-afternoon, Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder if his Master had forgotten. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to remind him!
Obi-Wan got his answer when some of the sons and daughters of various diplomats approached him. He’d met them at a dinner on his first night at the Governor’s residence and had even gone out into the city with them once or twice.
“Hey, Obi-Wan!”
The young man turned. His Master watched the proceedings with a concerned eye. He did *not* want to have to discipline his Padawan in front of his friends.
“Hey!” Obi-Wan called back, as the three teenagers approached.
“Hey, Obi-Wan,” cried P’Locu, running up. “We’re gonna go down to the cantina on Wif Street. You comin’?”
Obi-Wan hesitated. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” said Qui-Gon diplomatically. “Obi-Wan was ill yesterday and he’s still recovering. He won’t be going out with you for some time, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” said P’Locu, disappointed. “Well, Obi, I hope you feel better!” With that, and a parting wave, the trio headed off down the street.
“But Master, I feel fine,” Obi-Wan protested.
Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan, his face stern. “Did you really want me to tell your friends that you’re grounded for the next week?”
Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped. “Grounded… since when?”
Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest. “Since now.”
“But I didn’t break any rules,” Obi-Wan protested. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
“Not directly, no. But I think you could stand to learn a few lessons in respect and obedience. Besides, you’re still recovering.”
Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “But-”
“No ‘buts’, Padawan.”
Obi-Wan scowled.
“And no sulking either.”
“I wasn’t sulking,” Obi-Wan protested.
“Yes, you were.”
“I was scowling. There’s a difference.”
“Obi-Wan, you’re pushing the limits of my patience. You have two options. You may either shut your mouth and remain here in the conference room with me, or you may go back to our quarters and spend the rest of the day in meditation.”
Obi-Wan gaped. He did *not* want to spend any more time in his quarters than was absolutely necessary – he’d spent more than enough time counting the ceiling tiles when he’d been sick, thank you very much. Nor did he particularly want to trail around as Qui-Gon’s shadow; although, that option did at least promise to be more interesting than staring at the wall in his room. He sighed.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll be quiet. I want to stay out here.”
Qui-Gon nodded briskly. “Come along, Padawan,” he ordered, striding firmly off down the corridor. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes despairingly, but followed.
_*_*_
The two Jedi were now back in their quarters. Obi-Wan
was still moody about being grounded. Qui-Gon decided
the time had come for them to have a little chat.
“Obi-Wan, when I said ‘no sulking’ earlier, I meant it.”
“Yes, Master,” he grumbled petulantly.
Qui-Gon’s brow darkened. “I had hoped, Padawan, that you’d outgrown the need for a physical reminder, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes opened wide. His posture straightened immediately. He met Qui-Gon’s gaze squarely. “My apologies, Master. I have behaved badly.”
“Yes, you have,” Qui-Gon said. “But perhaps I have not explained things well enough to you.”
Obi-Wan looked confused.
“I think you need to understand the reasons behind why I’ve grounded you,” Qui-Gon continued.
“Because I left,” Obi-Wan said. “And because I got sick and you had to miss some of the talks to take care of me.”
“No,” said Qui-Gon gently. “That’s not why at all.”
Obi-Wan frowned in confusion. “Have I done something else?”
Qui-Gon chuckled. “No, you just misinterpreted it.”
“Oh,” said Obi-Wan, still not understanding.
“No, Obi-Wan, I’m not mad at you for getting sick. What bothers me is that you left without telling me where you were going. You stayed out far too long. What if something had happened and I couldn’t get in touch with you? What if you had gotten injured? I didn’t know where you had gone, Padawan. I was worried about you. And I do not like the feeling.”
Obi-Wan’s cheeks suddenly flushed at the knowledge that he’d frightened his Master.
“Master, I’m sorry I scared you,” he said, looking down at his boots.
Qui-Gon reached out and put his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I know you are, Obi-Wan. But I hope you’ve learned a lesson from this experience.”
“Yes, Master. I won’t go out without telling you where I’m going, I promise.”
“That is a pledge I sincerely hope you keep, Padawan. Now, I believe some meditation is in order.”
Obi-Wan wanted to grumble, but after Qui-Gon’s earlier threat, he decided further grumbling would be a bad idea. Instead he simply sighed.
“Yes, Master.”
Qui-Gon smiled faintly and ruffled his Padawan’s short hair. “When you’re done, Obi-Wan, I want you to go straight to bed. You’re not completely well yet and I don’t want you to have a relapse.”
“Yes, Master.”
_*_*_
Qui-Gon leaned against the doorframe, watching his
Padawan sleep.
/How is it that he manages to look so very innocent when he’s asleep?/ The question he asked himself was as old as parenthood itself. The Jedi Master smiled faintly, shaking his head. He supposed it was a good thing that Obi-Wan looked innocent when he was asleep. It gave him time to realize that his Padawan wasn’t all sauce and mischief. He needed to be reminded every now and again.
THE END