Anareal smiled, relaxed. She sat down on the floor next to him, touched Obi-Wan's limp hand and then curled her fingers around it. It felt so hot and dry. Apprehension ghosted across her face.
" He'll be all right," Qui-Gon repeated.
Anareal managed a tight smile and a brief nod. " Master?"
" Yes?"
" You never told me what made you change your mind, about taking Obi-Wan as an apprentice."
Qui-Gon seemed to withdraw, to turn inward like a wave folding up on itself. Anareal backpedaled quickly.
" Of course, it isn't any of my concern," she said, hurriedly.
" No, it's fine," Qui-Gon said, though he still didn't make eye contact.
Anareal lightly tested his presence in the Force. He was clearly exhausted, not even trying to shield her from his feelings.Whatever memories were coursing through him, Anareal sensed great joy and fierce pride mingled with a surprising mix of guilt and sorrow. She waited in respectful silence. Qui-Gon would tell her or he would not.
" It's a long story, Anareal, and I'm too tired to tell it the way it should be told," he said, finally," But would it surprise you at all to find out that Obi-Wan offered to take his own life to save mine and the lives of thousands?"
She blinked, startled that such a situation had even occurred without her knowing it. But, yes, it did sound like Obi-Wan.
" You didn't let him," she stated. Obvious since Obi-Wan was lying right in front of her.
" No, we found another way. But he meant it when he said it, and fully intended to go ahead with it," Qui-Gon stopped, sighed, carded his fingers through his heavy hair, " I knew then that he wasn't anything like Xanatos. Xanatos would never have made such an offer. He would have more likely loudly complained about how he was being inconvenienced and demanded that I get him out of there somehow. I knew that Obi-Wan could be reckless, and easily angered. But not at that moment. Obi-Wan was so calm, his spirit was so peaceful," Qui-Gon paused again and offered her a tired smile, " His gesture reminded me more of something you would do."
Anareal felt her cheeks warm.
Qui-Gon went on. " You know the rest. We had a rough start. He left me once, but I went after him. Then there was the trouble in the Temple, and, well. you know the rest."
She looked from her Master to Obi-Wan and nodded quietly. " Yes, I do," she agreed. "I'm glad you decided to take him, Master. I know it isn't anything I have a right to an opinion about - but I'm glad."
It was true. Xanatos had taken something out of Qui-Gon's soul, something that couldn't have been lost, only stolen. Anareal knew that raising her had been a mere distraction, something to take his mind off of what was still missing. She had grown up in the shadow of Xanatos' betrayal. By the time she had been knighted, Qui-Gon was satisfied and resigned and didn't want to search any more. He had been ready to retreat into himself and lead a solitary life. He had lost one apprentice, but raised two. It was enough.
Then Obi-Wan had come into Qui-Gon's life just as Xanatos had reappeared. As Qui-Gon had said, they'd had a rough start as Master and Padawan. Both had strong personalities and jagged edges. But it was Obi-Wan who had helped restore his Master. It was Obi-Wan who had given back the undefined 'something' that had allowed Qui-Gon to truly trust again.
She looked up at Qui-Gon to find him watching her closely. There were dark circles under her green eyes. Her heavy braid was coming loose in tendrils and wisps.
" Why don't you go to your room and rest?" he said, brushing back one of those tendrils and hooking it behind her ear. " The auto-pilot should be able to handle it for a little while - or are we going to be skimming the edge of a black hole soon?"
She smiled at him and like all her smiles, this one instantly made him feel better somehow. " Do you really want to know?"
Qui-Gon laughed and then shook his head. " Maybe not."
" May I make a suggestion, Master?" she asked, formally.
He arched an eyebrow, waited.
" You should go clean up. I can stay with Obi-Wan. I'd like to stay with him, actually."
Qui-Gon hesitated. It was a tempting offer. He felt awful. His skin seemed to itch, as if his pores had absorbed some of the poison that had tainted the air. He had been in the same clothes for over a standard day. It would feel good just to get out of his boots.
He cocked his head. " You're sure?"
She nodded quickly. " I had something to eat a little while ago and changed clothes. Let me stay with him."
Qui-Gon nodded once. " Don't let him get up. He's still disoriented. Use the Force if you have to and call me immediately."
" Yes, Master," she responded. She had no intention of calling him. She'd keep Obi-Wan lying down at the point of her lightsabre if she had to, but her Master was going to have a chance to relax. Fortunately, Qui-Gon was too tired to read that intention.
Her Master touched her shoulder, love and gratitude washing into her through the Force. Then he rose with his usual grace and was gone.
Anareal waved her hand to dim the light and then rested her cheek on Obi-Wan's hand. Linking herself to his Force presence so that she would be alerted if he moved, she closed her eyes and drifted into a meditative sleep.
**********************
The whole galaxy seemed to be rocking and spinning, and Obi-Wan's head rocked and his stomach spun in agreement. He wondered where he was but was unable, and unwilling, to try opening his eyes to find out. They felt all dried out and gummed together. The galaxy lurched again and Obi-Wan had no choice but to roll over.
Leaning over the edge of whatever he was lying on, he was completely and violently sick. When he could be sick no longer, and it seemed as if his insides might actually stay inside for a while, Obi-Wan collapsed onto his back. He waited there patiently for death, which he was sure was coming.
Several long moments came and went before he realized with bitter regret that he was still alive. A deep groan of frustration escaped him, causing his aching head to throb.
His right ankle was throbbing as well. It was tightly bound, almost tight enough to cut off the circulation. Gritting his teeth he tried to move it. Horrible pain lanced up his leg, through his hip, straight to his muzzy brain. He cried out and instantly regretted it.
A noise like a door shushing open echoed in the background. Someone touched his clammy forehead with a cool, dry hand.
" Hush, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered softly.
Only it didn't sound like a whisper to Obi-Wan. It sounded like someone had banged a gong inside his head.
" Master, please," he whimpered.
" Please what?"
" Kill me."
Qui-Gon chuckled softly and Obi-Wan's head beat in the same rhythm. Obi-Wan moaned.
" If you love me at all," he pleaded," just kill me."
There was a rustling noise, which Obi-Wan desperately hoped was Qui-Gon reaching for his lightsaber. Obi-Wan cautiously opened his eyes.
And instantly shut them. Blinding white light stabbed his eyes like arrows and sent pain bouncing around the inside of his head. Just as Qui-Gon replaced the trough next to the bed, Obi-Wan was brutally sick again.
When there was finally nothing left inside to come out, Obi-Wan sank back on the bed again. His mouth felt like Jawas had taken up living in it.
" Lie still, m'li," his Master advised, an order his Padawan was unlikely to disobey.
He was dimly aware of Qui-Gon leaving again. When he returned, Obi-Wan felt a cool, damp cloth being placed across his forehead.
" What happened?" Obi-Wan asked, thickly.
" Don't you remember? You stepped on a spiny courvu."
" Where-where are we?" Obi-Wan asked.
" The Healer's Wing at the Temple," Qui-Gon answered.
Obi-Wan heard the sound of the door swooshing open again, and heavy footsteps approaching. Steeling himself, he cracked one eye open.
There were four people in the room now - two Qui-Gons and two Tavarises. Quickly Obi-Wan shut his eyes again. It seemed safer to keep them closed for a while, what with people multiplying like that and all.
" So, our patient is finally awake?" Tavaris' voice boomed like an ion cannon.
Obi-Wan curled up in a fetal position and put his arms over his head, moaning like the damned.
" And not feeling so well, I take it. Oh, well the Healers warned us that he might feel like this, " Tavaris finished, then laughed. " Poor little brother, all the agony of the hangover with none of the fun of getting drunk. I don't think I've ever seen a human turn quite that shade of green. Have you, Qui-Gon?"
" Tavaris," Qui-Gon spoke in a tone of quiet reprimand.
" Sorry, Master," Tavaris said." Cheer up little brother. Your ankle is fine, or will be. You're going to live! As soon as you're up and around, we'll go out and show you what a real hangover is like! Have you ever had a Graveyard? Now there's a drink that is truly the path to a splendid hangover. After a night of Graveyards, you'll wish you were in one."
He clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder, which had the effect of driving a durasteel spike through Obi-Wan's skull.
" Save me," Obi-Wan begged.
Conversationally, Qui-Gon said to Tavaris, " He's asked me to kill him once already."
" I don't want you to kill me any more, Master," Obi-Wan's muffled voice said.
" No?" Qui-Gon asked in surprise.
" No, now I want you to kill HIM." The resulting burst of laughter made Obi-Wan pull the pillow over his head and plead for mercy.
" Now, now," Qui-Gon said, " No one's going to kill anyone."
" Wanna bet," Obi-Wan muttered darkly. " How long before my ankle heals, Master?" Obi-Wan was suddenly determined to get better so that he could seek revenge on his ' big brother'. Revenge was not the way of the Jedi, but sometimes all was fair in their 'family'.
" A few days," he answered," The Healers said I can take you back to our quarters before that."
In a somber tone totally unlike him, Tavaris said, " You do know how lucky you are to be alive, don't you, Obi-Wan?"
With his head pounding and his stomach threatening serious revolt again, Obi-Wan thought he could make a good case against that statement.
But the part of his wooly brain that was still functioning knew Tavaris was right. He was lucky to be alive; and he knew that Qui-Gon and Anareal had something to do with that.
Tears that had nothing to do with his physical pain suddenly stung the corners of his eyes.
" Roll over, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, gently, " You need to keep this on your forehead."
He was far too conditioned to obeying that voice. Slowly, mindful of the pain in his ankle this time, Obi-Wan flopped onto his back as if he were boneless. The cool cloth was pressed back in place and he could feel his ankle levitating magically and coming down on something soft and fluffy.
After a moment, he was shocked to discover that he didn't feel so bad any more.
" What's in the cloth?" he asked.
" A hangover cure," Qui-Gon replied," It's being absorbed through your skin. You couldn't very well swallow anything right now."
Obi-Wan thought briefly about trying to swallow something but a fresh wave of nausea made him abandon the thought as quickly as it came.
Daring to risk yet another try, Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes. Mercifully, Tavaris and Qui-Gon's doppelgangers had disappeared. Qui-Gon was seated in a chair beside the bed. Tavaris was gingerly perched on the edge of the bed, looking like some huge bird-of-prey on a branch that was much too small for him.
" I'm very sorry for causing so much trouble," Obi-Wan said, " I didn't mean it, Master."
" Of course you didn't mean it, Obi-Wan, " Qui-Gon said, patiently, " There are much more effective ways of killing yourself."
" I know. I recently thought about a few of them," Obi-Wan said, " but they all required too much energy. You saved my life, Master."
" Of course he did, little brother," Tavaris said," He's got too much invested in your training to let you die on him."
" Let him be, Tavaris," Qui-Gon had that note of reprimand in his voice again, " Lie still, Padawan. Let the medicine work. You'll feel much better soon."
Qui-Gon turned his attention to Tavaris then. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his feet at the ankles, Qui-Gon speared his first apprentice with a look that went right through Tavaris and pierced the wall behind him.
" Now, eldest son," he said, softly, " Why don't you tell me exactly how you know the effects of drinking too many Graveyards?"
The End.
You are visitor # to come here since June 15, 2000.
© 2000 heather.lively@ns.sympatico.ca
Get your own Free Home Page