Solitude

by Keelywolfe

 

He could hear them first, long before he saw them, the low rumble of anguished cries echoing through the tunnels. Carefully, Qui-Gon made his way towards the sound, following the path he'd learned less than a month ago.

The air was thick with the almost cloying smell of blood, the dark mustiness of decay and death and he paused at the entrance to the cavern, briefly stunned by the sight before him. Every available space was littered with the wounded, far too many bodies stained crimson for the few that appeared well enough to treat them. Somewhere, a girl who sounded much too young to be in this war was sobbing that she was thirsty, and wouldn't someone bring her water...please...anyone...just water...

Qui-Gon's mouth thinned into a whitened line as he walked through the uneven paths created by bodies that were both dead and alive. They were all too young to be involved in this type of bloodshed, far too young to watch their friends slaughtered around them while they fought a useless battle that could only end with more death.

And worse was the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, he searched silently, unhindered by both the curious and hostile looks of the Young while he sought out something, anything...

There. In a darkened corner, far on the other side of the cavern he could feel the faintest tinge of familiarity, the sense of someone clumsily gathering the Force and struggling with a healing. He followed it unerringly to a small form curled up on a ragged pallet. The boy didn't appear to be seriously injured but his were clothes spattered with blood that may or may not have been his own.

Obi-Wan didn't look at him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to heal himself without the benefit of a teacher's assistance. Settling himself next to the boy, Qui-Gon watched with a critical eye any amount of weak success that Obi-Wan gained.

Finally, Obi-Wan seemed to surrender with an irritable sigh, opening his eyes to look at the man before him.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

Qui-Gon chose not to answer, instead retrieving a small jar of ointment from his belt and using it on the scratches that marred Obi- Wan's face. The wounds themselves were small enough but they had apparently been untreated for some time and his mouth tightened grimly as he rubbed hard at the festering abrasions, using the slightest touch of the Force to leach away the infection.

"Did you allow this yourself or can't your friends be bothered to supply you with any antiseptic?" Qui-Gon asked harshly. The boy never flinched under his ministrations, or his tone.

"No, they won't use their medical supplies for me," he replied calmly, closing his eyes as Qui-Gon dabbed the ointment on a nasty cut on his forehead. "I'm not one of them. I do as I please, and they leave me alone." He sighed heavily, and it was the sound of someone far older than his own tender years. "They need me, it's admitting it that's the problem. I didn't realize how much they would resent my helping them."

"Perhaps you should have considered your actions more wisely," said Qui-Gon, unable to keep the acid from his tone. If Obi-Wan had allowed him, he could have taught the boy about the fickle nature of those who pleaded for help. Instead Obi-Wan had chosen his own path, and if he was regretting it now then all the better.

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan replied softly, agreeably. "Why are you here?" Pale eyes regarded Qui-Gon calmly, with nothing more than curiosity in their depths and Qui-Gon looked away from them, hardly recognizing this boy as the hot-tempered, determined child that he had left behind. Obi-Wan sighed and shifted on the pallet, and one armed clutched abortively over his stomach, hinting of far more serious wounds. "Never mind," he said wearily, "I have to go anyway. We have to begin preparations for tomorrow's siege."

The first true sense of alarm filled the Jedi Master, and he reached out to the boy almost unconsciously. "Obi-Wan, you can't possibly..."

"But I can," he cut in, an edge to his soft voice. "And I will. I'm not your apprentice anymore, remember?" As if Qui-Gon could ever need a reminder of that fact. "No longer a Jedi." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the bunched up cloak that was serving as a pillow. "And what did Master Yoda say when you told him that I left the Jedi?"

Qui-Gon hesitated a long moment before saying quietly. "I didn't tell him. I told him that I had allowed you to stay." His lips twisted harshly at the memory. "He was upset to be sure." Obi-Wan's eyes blinked open again and he stared at Qui-Gon in wordless surprise.

"Why did you tell them that?" he asked quietly.

For a long moment he didn't speak, just continued to gently treat the smaller cuts and scratches that Obi-Wan had accumulated over the past days. Then the small jar of ointment was abruptly set aside and he captured Obi-Wan's hands in his own.

"Obi-Wan, you don't have to stay here," he said urgently, his grip almost painfully tight on Obi-Wan's hands as if he could assert his will through that touch alone. "You were meant to be a Jedi, come back with me. Please."

The boy was shaking his head before Qui-Gon even finished, loosening Qui-Gon's grip but not pulling away. "I can't." Carefully, he pushed himself into a sitting position so that he could look straight into Qui-Gon's eyes. "Qui-Gon, when I was thirteen I was old enough to be put into danger by causes that the Jedi felt were worthy, old enough to die for the Jedi. Am I not also old enough to die for what I believe in?"

Qui-Gon let his hands drop away, and then his eyes, lowering them again to Obi-Wan's wounds as he retrieved the ointment and began dabbing it again on the small cuts caused by shrapnel and other flying debris.

"So that's why you came back then?" Obi-Wan asked, closing his eyes with a sigh. "To try and talk me out of this?"

"You seem terribly concerned over my reasons for being here," Qui-Gon said irritably. "Can't you simply be content with the fact that I am here?"

"I suppose. Actually, I expected you sooner, but I suppose I can't complain. You're here now." He smiled and lifted a battered hand to Qui-Gon's cheek, fingering the coarse hair of his beard gently. "I know why you came back. Did you really think I wouldn't know?"

"I don't..."

"I thought it very strange that our training bond formed against your will, very strange, "he interrupted smoothly. "So I looked into it, and I found some very interesting information. In fact, I don't think we have a training bond at all, do we? I think we have something else."

Those fingers had drifted to Qui-Gon's lips and he knew he should pull away but he felt frozen, paralyzed by those slim fingers lightly tracing his lips. It was true that he could still feel the bond twined tightly between them, despite his efforts to break it. Strong enough that he had followed it back to this planet, but what Obi-Wan was suggesting was unthinkable. Inconceivable.

"I think that perhaps you were meant to be something else to me," Obi- Wan continued, his soft voice turning wistful. "Do you think that if I had stayed with the Jedi, stayed with you, that someday we might have been something more than just Master and Padawan?"

"I don't..." Qui-Gon started, his thoughts in turmoil and Obi-Wan shook his head.

"No, there isn't time for you to waffle about it, the sieges will begin again soon. Do you?" he persisted, pale eyes searching the Jedi master's face.

So very young, just barely out of childhood, this was true. But there was something else within this boy that had drawn him from the beginning. A seed, perhaps, of things yet to come.

"I think..." Qui-Gon whispered and then shook his head. "I don't know," he said finally, honestly, and as he watched something in Obi-Wan's pale eyes dimmed. Reaching out, he stroked the tip of a finger over the boy's dirty cheek. "I don't know," he repeated, "But I would not have been overly surprised."

Any sense of discomfort he had from that confession melted away at the sudden happiness that lit Obi-Wan's eyes. With a sigh, Qui-Gon tossed the ointment aside and stretched out on the small pallet, pulling the young man gently into his arms.

Obi-Wan held himself stiffly at first, obviously nonplussed at the action, but after a moment he relaxed, even shifting to snuggle closer. Resting a cheek against the boy's soft hair, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, exhaustion and the warmth of their embrace conspiring to lull him to sleep, until Obi-Wan called his name, softly.

"Qui-Gon?" he asked, hardly above a whisper

The Jedi master made a questioning sound, words seeming far too difficult at the moment.

"I'm scared," Obi-Wan confessed softly. "Growing up at the Temple, you were always with someone but now...I'm scared of being alone."

Qui-Gon tightened his arms around the boy. "You're not alone, Obi-Wan."

"I've been alone all my life," was the quiet response, and Obi-Wan sighed. "Tomorrow is the final push, and I'm going to die the same way I lived. Alone." A moment of silence, and then a soft laugh. "Master N'Beth was right, you do have to suffer to write poetry."

There was nothing to say to that, and Qui-Gon simply held the boy gently, staring into the darkness long after Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

 

---

Qui-Gon knew he was alone before he even opened his eyes. There was no slim, young body nestled against his own, no slender arms twined around his neck.

Rolling to his feet, he walked to the main cavern, following the threads of a bond that was even stronger today, despite his earlier efforts at breaking it. He retrieved his own lightsaber from his belt, hefting it in his hand, and another one as well, smaller than his own and not as well built, perhaps, but it was the weapon of a true Jedi.

There was no telling if Obi-Wan would survive the upcoming siege, Qui- Gon knew, but even if he did not, he wasn't going to die alone.

 

-finis-
 

 

Comments and questions to:  mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com

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