Title: Pride and Penitence
Author: Diane dcoffin@omahasymphony.org
Feedback: I’d welcome feedback!
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Obi-Wan thinks he’s hot stuff -- until he
screws up on a mission and faces the consequences.
Rating: G
Category: Angst, adventure, H/C,
Time Period: Obi-Wan is 16.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: The Jedi belong to George Lucas. I do this for love, not
money.
Archive: Padawan Journals, QJEB, Early Years, Wolfie's Den, and any
others that may want it
THANKS - again to Denise and Li'Ann for their thoughts and
encouragement!
It should have been easy. An in-and-out rescue mission, flawlessly
researched, carefully planned, perfectly timed. And the mission had,
indeed, been accomplished, though Qui-Gon could not call it a success.
Apparently, a double-dealing information broker had tipped off the
terrorist group holding the Senate’s ambassador, and a trap had been
set. To put it mildly, things did *not* go as planned. Nevertheless,
the ambassador was now safe in the hands of a Republic security detail,
receiving medical attention before a Senate de-briefing, and the Jedi
were on their way back to the Temple. But Qui-Gon was not at ease.
The master glanced at his padawan, who sat silently next to him in the diplomatic shuttle. Obi-Wan had barely spoken since their “adventure,” and for good reason. Obi-Wan had nearly cost them their lives.
Qui-Gon leaned his head against the back of his seat, and closed his eyes. For some time now he had been trying to focus, to control his pain and begin healing his injury. But his mind was too full to find peace.
He thought back to the mission.
**************
With perfect silence and stealth, the Jedi breeched the terrorist’s
small desert compound. A mind touch here, a slipped lock there...
despite Qui-Gon’s growing unease, all was going according to plan. Soon
the weakened ambassador was in their custody, sheltered in Qui-Gon’s
strong arms. Obi-Wan grinned at his master as they moved to make their
silent escape, and Qui-Gon was unnerved to sense a familiar kind of
swaggering confidence in the sixteen-year-old.
In Qui-Gon’s opinion, it was an attitude that was becoming far too typical of late. After a number of rather flamboyantly successful missions, the young Jedi had grown admirably in skill and self-assurance. To his master’s distaste, however, he had also become somewhat prideful and arrogant. It annoyed and worried Qui-Gon, and he had found it necessary on several occasions to warn his padawan against the dangers of egotism and over-confidence.
Now here again, Obi-Wan was clearly exhilarated by the easy success of this mission. But Qui-Gon answered the boy’s grin with a cautious shake of his head. Something was not right. He had a bad feeling about this....
Obi-Wan was several steps ahead of his burdened master as they moved noiselessly down the corridor on their established escape route. Suddenly, Qui-Gon’s senses screamed a warning, and he called to Obi-Wan through their bond. //Padawan! Wait!//
Obi-Wan was peering around the corner. He looked back at his master and winked. (‘He winks at me now?’ thought Qui-Gon in passing.) //All clear! Let’s go!//, sent the boy, and he raced out of sight.
//Stop!// cried Qui-Gon, //Padawan, no!// But it was too late. The sound of klaxons told Qui-Gon that their mission was no longer one of stealth. The ambassador was a dead weight in his arms, and Qui-Gon ducked into a convenient doorway to hide the injured man. He heard the echo of blaster fire, and he reached out with the Force to sense Obi-Wan’s situation. The boy was facing fifteen, perhaps twenty armed terrorist soldiers. The compound’s contingent was only supposed to be ten. They knew we were coming, he thought. Damn.
Qui-Gon concealed the now unconscious ambassador in a tiny storage closet in the room. He knew in detail the layout of the compound, and he briefly considered escaping along a different route with the diplomat, leaving Obi-Wan to hold off the extremists. But his padawan was young -- and brash and over-confident, added Qui-Gon with some irritation. He shook his head and ignited his lightsaber. Obi-Wan was a remarkable warrior for his age, but if he failed to hold the terrorists, the mission would undoubtedly fail. He had to go to his aid.
When Qui-Gon joined the fray, he saw that Obi-Wan was holding his own -- rather impressively, in fact. He was deflecting blaster bolts with blazing speed and efficiency, and had actually managed to push the soldiers back, away from Qui-Gon and the ambassador, and through the side entrance of the building into grounds beyond.
Qui-Gon took note, though, that the battle was now taking place near the compound’s munitions warehouse. ‘Not the best place for a firefight,’ he thought grimly as his saber blurred into action. And then --
No. No. As if in slow motion, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan swung boldly at a blaster bolt, sending it arching toward the munitions shed. ‘Perfect shot,’ he thought wryly, and then the world exploded in flame.
The force of the explosion threw Qui-Gon to the ground, hard. He noticed in a detached kind of way that flying shrapnel had sliced into his upper arm, biting deeply into flesh and bone. He watched as his fingers relaxed, and his lightsaber rolled from his grip.
The scene was nightmarish. A chain reaction of explosions showered flaming debris across the compound. Qui-Gon struggled to his knees, grabbing his saber in his left hand, his eyes searching the chaos for Obi-Wan.
He saw him. The boy had obviously been slammed against the wall and was climbing slowly to his feet, dazed. Obi-Wan looked up, and locked eyes with his master. He immediately shook off his disorientation and ran to Qui-Gon’s side. He hauled the Jedi up by his uninjured arm, and the two ran back into the now-burning building to retrieve the ambassador.
Qui-Gon could sense the fear and disorder of the terrorist forces, and he focused his mind, sending them deeper into their confusion. Soon, with the extremists’ former hostage in tow, the Jedi made their way out of the destroyed compound, and ran.
***************
Qui-Gon shook himself back to the present.
Next to him, Obi-Wan stole a glance at his master, and saw him wince. He knew Qui-Gon’s pained expression was only partially due to his injury. He swallowed and stared down at his hands as the shuttle descended to the Jedi Temple.
When they landed, Obi-Wan stood and wordlessly offered a hand to his master. Qui-Gon accepted his help. He had lost a dangerous amount of blood during their escape, and the effort of beginning his healing and keeping the pain at bay had weakened him further.
It felt strange to Qui-Gon to be unable to ‘read’ his padawan, especially while they were in physical contact, but Obi-Wan had kept himself tightly shielded since the explosion. Qui-Gon had respected his privacy. There would be time for words later.
Qui-Gon allowed his apprentice to lead him straight to the healers’ wing. Then he sent the boy back to their quarters, and, without resistance, Obi-Wan obeyed.
************
Once inside the apartment he shared with his master, Obi-Wan let out a
shaky breath and limped to his room. He sat, tugged off his boots and
slowly eased himself down onto the bed.
He felt terrible -- physically, mentally, emotionally. How, how, *how* had everything gone so wrong? he asked himself.
He frowned. Well, Kenobi, let’s start at the beginning. You were cocky. You were unfocused. You ignored your master’s warnings. You rushed into danger. Tripped an alarm. Forced a confrontation. Maneuvered the battle into a dangerous position. And then blew everything to hell.
Well. Question answered.
Obi-Wan wrapped his arms protectively around his middle and rolled over onto his side with a pain-filled groan. He looked down and saw Qui-Gon’s blood staining the sleeves of his tunic. “Oh, gods,” he breathed. Obi-Wan had bound his master’s wound as soon as they’d reached safety, and he had seen the extent of the injury, the awful ruin of skin, muscle, blood and bone. “I *did* that,” he told himself again, for the hundredth time. “*I* did that to him.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to control the rising wave of guilt and horror. He was desperate to know how his master was. More than anything, he wanted Qui-Gon to come back from the healers; yet at the same time he dreaded his return.
Calm down, calm down, he repeated quietly. Move. First things first.
He rolled slowly from the bed, shrugged off his charred and bloodstained clothing, and headed for the ‘fresher.
The hot water soothed him, but as soon as he sensed his master’s presence in the other room, he raised his mental shields and turned off the shower. He bit his lip as he gingerly toweled off his bruised body, then he eased on a light robe and opened the door.
Qui-Gon was in the kitchen, heating water for tea. He displayed little awkwardness as he managed his task one-handed, but Obi-Wan rushed to help him nonetheless.
“Master, please let me,” he said, and he guided a weary and acquiescent Qui-Gon to a chair. Kneeling beside him, he lifted an anxious face to his master and gently touched the sling that held Qui-Gon’s arm immobile against his chest. “Tell me, what did the healers say?”
“I’m fine, Obi-Wan, “ Qui-Gon quietly replied. “The bone is broken. The muscles and tendons are severed, and I don’t have the use of my hand now. But the healers feel that with regeneration and physical therapy, I’ll be fine.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes with relief. “When I dressed your wound, I was so afraid that...,” he shook his head. “I was afraid.” He looked up at Qui-Gon’s tight, drawn face. “Master, I’m sorry, it must be painful,” he murmured. Qui-Gon didn’t answer him.
Anxious to be of help, Obi-Wan rose to brew the tea. He could feel Qui-Gon’s eyes on him as he worked. Finally, his master spoke. “Obi-Wan, the Council wants to see us in half an hour.”
The boy stiffened. “So soon?”
“Yes.”
Obi-Wan poured the tea and carefully brought it to Qui-Gon. The cup rattled as he set it down. “Will you need help getting ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“All right.” Obi-Wan hesitated. “Master, we need to talk....”
“We need to get dressed,” Qui-Gon said flatly. He reached for his tea and drank.
Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, then turned and went to his room.
***********************
As they waited outside the Council chambers, Qui-Gon rubbed his eyes
with his one good hand. He didn’t want to do this now, any more than
his silent, grim padawan did. His arm throbbed, he hadn’t slept in
days, and he was still too upset with himself and his apprentice to
speak reasonably about the mission. Facing the Council right now was
the last thing he wanted. He knew precisely how the interview would
go. Ah, well. He knew his duty.
Poor Obi-Wan looked as if he were stoically facing execution. Qui-Gon felt remorse for having been so cold to his padawan. As upset as he was with his apprentice, he knew well the boy would be far harder on himself than he could ever be. He placed his hand lightly on Obi-Wan’s back to remind the remote young man that he wasn’t alone.
The door hissed open then, and the two walked in.
Master Yoda was speaking quietly to Mace Windu as they entered, but the ancient Jedi looked up abruptly as they took their place in the center of the room.
Yoda’s eyes narrowed. “Wounded you are,” he observed sternly. Qui-Gon looked down at his useless arm before realizing that Yoda was speaking to Obi-Wan.
“Shielded this from your master, you have.” At Yoda’s accusing words, Qui-Gon turned to look at his padawan. The boy stood frozen, his eyes on the floor.
“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan confessed quietly, and Qui-Gon’s eyes widened. Obi-Wan was hurt? A rush of concern, mixed with more than a little confusion, flooded him. //Padawan?// Qui-Gon’s urgent inquiry met the resistance of Obi-Wan’s shields.
“It...should never have happened,” Obi-Wan was softly continuing, “I am taking care of it.”
“Foolish, that is,” Yoda remarked. “Masters, better healers than padawans are. This you know.”
“Qui-Gon’s own injuries required his attention, Master Yoda. There was no need to burden him further.” Obi-Wan could feel the weight of Qui-Gon’s gaze, and he felt reluctant to meet his searching eyes. He knew his master would be angry at his deception, no matter how well intentioned it was.
In a breech of protocol, Qui-Gon turned and spoke privately to his padawan, ignoring the masters surrounding them. “Obi-Wan, drop your shields,” he commanded quietly, and the boy complied. “Your ribs are broken?” he murmured after a moment, and Obi-Wan nodded, suddenly ashamed.
“Wrong it was to hide this from your master,” Yoda said.
“Yes, Master Yoda.”
“Seek healing, you will.”
“Yes, Master Yoda.”
Mace Windu spoke then. “Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi. You should know that the Senate is pleased with the success of your mission.” he said, “But we have some questions for you.”
“I imagine you do,” said Qui-Gon neutrally.
“We learned that the terrorist faction was informed of a possible rescue attempt. An ambush was planned for you.”
“So we discovered.”
“You had contingency plans that were not followed. It seems odd that you did not sense the danger and adjust your strategy.”
“Master Jinn did sense a disturbance in the Force,” Obi-Wan interjected. “I... was unfocused. It was I who tripped the alarm and alerted them to our presence.”
“Qui-Gon did not warn you of the danger?”
“He... he tried to. I did not listen.”
“Is this typical, Master Jinn?” asked Ki-Adi-Mundi in his soft, lilting voice. “Do you have difficulty communicating with your padawan?”
“Young and headstrong, your apprentice is,” Yoda added. “A firm hand he needs to teach him control.”
Qui-Gon bowed slightly. “Of course, my Master,” he began, but Obi-Wan interrupted.
“With your permission, Masters. Qui-Gon Jinn has done nothing wrong.”
Ki-Adi-Mundi raised his brows in response. “A mission designed for stealth ended in devastation. In casualties.”
“And I am responsible!” insisted Obi-Wan. “*I* accidentally destroyed the munitions warehouse. *I* caused the explosions!”
“Indeed you did,” Mace Windu coolly agreed. “We must ask, were you unaware of your surroundings? Were you not briefed on the layout of the compound?”
“Yes, Master Windu, Qui-Gon prepared me thoroughly.”
“That appears to be debatable.”
“With all due respect, Masters!” cried Obi-Wan. “You cannot blame Qui-Gon for my actions!”
“Obi-Wan. Enough.” Qui-Gon quietly warned.
“Placing blame is not our intent, Padawan Kenobi,” said Windu.
“That appears to be debatable!” Obi-Wan flung back viciously, and the words seemed to echo in the room.
Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice with barely controlled fury. “You forget yourself,” he slowly said, his voice deep with reproach.
Obi-Wan stared back at him, clearly shocked by his own outburst. Then he dropped his eyes and fell to his knees, swaying awkwardly as the pain of his injuries seized him. His breath caught in his throat, nearly strangling his words. “Forgive me. Please forgive me, my Masters. I sincerely apologize for my rudeness. I meant no disrespect.”
“Meant it you did, Obi-Wan,” said Yoda mildly. “Harsh we seem to you. Protect your master from us you would, hmm?”
Obi-Wan did not know how to respond.
“Understand us, your master does. Do you not, Qui-Gon?”
“I do, my Master,” Qui-Gon replied evenly. He directed his next words to his kneeling padawan. “As head of a mission, Obi-Wan, I am ultimately responsible for its outcome. I am accountable for my actions and for the actions of those who serve under me. You know that to be true. This is not a duty I shoulder lightly. I would not shield myself from it, and I do not require you to defend me from it. By the same token, you must never forget that your actions reflect not only on you, but also on your master and on the entire Jedi order. At every moment you are a Jedi, Obi-Wan. Understand your duty, and face it with strength and humility.”
“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan’s voice seemed muffled and distant.
Qui-Gon looked up and addressed the Council at large. “With your permission, Masters. My padawan requires medical attention, and I must see that he gets it.”
Mace Windu nodded curtly. “We give you leave.”
“Thank you. We go in peace.” Qui-Gon bent and helped his apprentice climb shakily to his feet. Together, they left the chamber.
Once outside, the master led his padawan to a bench in the hallway and they both sat, heavily.
“Well,” Qui-Gon said after a pause. “That was a disgraceful display.”
“I know, Master, and I am very sorry.”
“I should hope so. Though in my opinion, you should be far sorrier for hiding your injuries from me, Padawan. You were deliberately deceptive!”
“I apologize for that also, Master,” Obi-Wan said wearily.
Qui-Gon shook his head. “Obi-Wan, what were you thinking? What could have made you do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “Fear? Guilt? Denial. Remorse. Embarrassment, concern, stupidity. Take your pick.”
Qui-Gon laughed softly and regarded his apprentice. The boy was huddled on the bench, arms crossed, head down, defeated. At this moment there was no trace of the swaggering, self-possessed young Jedi that Qui-Gon had found so disconcerting.
But this attitude was no better.
“Padawan, I’m pleased to see you embracing humility,” he said dryly, “but don’t forget that self-pity is as indulgent as self-importance. Let’s strive for balance, shall we?“ He put his hand on his apprentice’s shoulder in a request for attention, and Obi-Wan obediently looked up. “Feel your shame. Learn from it. And let it go.”
With Obi-Wan’s nod, Qui-Gon willed himself to stand. He gave a tired smile. “We are a pair, aren’t we? Come on, let’s limp our way to the healers. I want to see you explain to them why it took you so long to get help.”
Obi-Wan smiled tentatively. “If I’m lucky, maybe they’ll blame you for it.” He was glad to hear his master’s deep laughter echo through the hall.
THE END
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