Chapter Text
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The setting sun fingered in brilliant beams over Coruscant’s high skies, painting the swirls of storm-blown cirrus clouds in all possible hues of saturated red—it was one of the last of the planet’s natural beauties but tonight it failed utterly to touch Obi-Wan’s heart.
He squinted into the brightness, taking deep breaths of already chilled and moist evening air, determined to get his head clear again, needing to dissolve the emotional clogging the latest argument with his master had caused. His calm was only façade, he was still hurt, still furious about how little his master valued his opinion about his Chosen One obsession.
Quiet breathing did not quiet his thoughts nor did it do anything useful to his emotions and giving up, Obi-Wan reached out to the Force for help. The connection was instant and true but it did not bring the stillness and calm he craved; a sudden chill of dread made him shiver and left him covered from head to toe in a thin coat of cold sweat, and trembling, he swayed forward, catching himself with his elbows against the high rail that separated him from the two-hundred meters of open space down to the Temple’s roof. His hands inside the robe’s wide sleeves closed around each other like brackets, his breath hitching, his gaze fixed as if glued to the bright burning before him.
Obi-Wan saw the sun becoming a formless amoeba, its gelatinous mass melting over the endless city-vista, suffocating it, rolling over the surface like a firestorm, consuming the megalopolis, running all around the planet, coming up to him, the towers of the Temple breaking in the wavefront like dried weed, the infernal heat melting the flesh from his bones; Obi-Wan lost his balance, his hands freeing themselves from the cloth and locking around the rail in white-knuckled panic. Blinking against the blinding glare, he saw only black dots until his eyes adjusted again and before him once more was only the harmless big ball of the setting sun. Its benevolent rays caressed his shock-chilled face with warm fingers and in a paradoxical reaction he shivered, ice around his heart.
Again. It had happened again.
Lately these fugue states overcame him much too often for comfort. As long as he only felt a Darkness waiting just beyond the horizon he could ignore it, but these flashes he’d had ever since this mission started were much more unsettling.
He stiffened the shields around himself even more, unwilling to let the other feel any of his disquiet, unwilling to get lectured again by his master, who stood beside him, only an arm length between them that might as well have been parsecs.
Obi-Wan had tried to warn his master when they had stepped out onto the balcony a short while ago. He had spoken from the depth of his intuition which had kicked in again as they’d stood before the Council, giving their report about the supposed Sith-warrior and presenting Anakin Skywalker for evaluation and training.
But his master wouldn’t listen. As usual he had just admonished him again to live in the Now, not to get lost in the nebulous currents of the future as he was prone to.
How often had he heard those words, spoken softly or with exasperation and leaving him always feeling like a little boy who feared a monster under his bed.
His master wanted to be stubborn again, his mind set, his view narrowed down to what he thought was the right path, guided by the Living Force, insisting he just would do what he had to do.
But Obi-Wan just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread; in fact it only got stronger. His flash right now while tapping into the Force confirmed the source of his disquiet right inside that all-connecting-power, the itch in the back of his mind warning him of something hovering behind them, ready to strike.
And the boy from Tatooine was the reason, the hub, the eye of the storm.
He blinked up at Qui-Gon and saw him lost in thought, oblivious to his padawan’s turmoil. The warm red light illuminated the older man’s face, rinsing out shadows and lines and Obi-Wan’s heart twitched again, whispering: How I love you; and the feeling was agony. As if he had heard, his master turned to him and his soft eyes locked with Obi-Wan’s. But whatever Qui-Gon saw in the younger man’s features it obviously wasn’t the naked love and boundless devotion Obi-Wan felt.
»You still have much to learn, my young Apprentice,« Qui-Gon said mildly and clasped his shoulder in a firm grip, doubtlessly meant to be reassuring, to cushion the bite of the earlier reprimand. The touch meant Qui-Gon forgave him his too loudly voiced critique but the words themselves were a reminder of the ultimate inequality of their relationship as teacher and student.
»Yes, Master.« Obi-Wan shut his eyes and willing his mind away from visions of Darkness he concentrated on what he’d learned out of their latest . . . difference in opinion.
In one sense his master was unquestionably right: He did have much to learn, yet. Especially about people. Especially about a man called Qui-Gon Jinn. While he mostly could predict his master’s reactions, now and again he found himself as surprised by him as anybody else.
It wasn’t only the difference in experience but also the difference of perception. His master relied heavily on what the bright currents of the ever shifting Living Force were telling him, while he, Obi-Wan, felt mostly the greater context, felt past and future when he asked the Force for guidance. But his understanding in what he saw and felt was still grossly imperfect while his master could rely on his intuition like very few others.
He knew Qui-Gon often despaired over his student’s frequently displayed lack of empathy and Obi-Wan himself was very much aware of how far he still had to go. He worked hard on himself, took Qui-Gon’s ever patient teachings very much to heart, knowing that he had to learn to be more in tune with the Living Force if he was to become the Jedi his master wanted him to be.
But if Qui-Gon was sometimes exasperated with him, Obi-Wan was certainly more often so with Qui-Gon!
Yet . . . most of what he opposed so vehemently now was perhaps only born out of the ›foolishness of youth,‹ as Master Yoda was so fond of reminding him. And he had the suspicion that someday he might come to see many things the way his master did. Nevertheless, in the here and now it seemed to him that Qui-Gon sometimes confused the intuition and feelings born out of his own soft heart with the Will of the Force.
And with Qui-Gon’s newest object of obsession Obi-Wan was sure there was trouble ahead. He had felt it. When the child had clasped his hand in greeting, looking at him with those joyful and guileless eyes, he had smiled back automatically—but in truth he had wanted to snatch his hand away. Because just for a second he had felt cold and nauseated.
At the time he had explained the reaction away, thought it in truth caused by his fear over Qui-Gon’s narrow escape from the black warrior they’d had the misfortune to encounter on Tatooine.
But now—his own intuition cried loudly into his ears that his vision, his dark premonitions had a definite connection to Anakin Skywalker. Somehow this was all tangled up together.
Obi-Wan’s thoughts turned to where Anakin was being tested this minute. The Council, he wondered, would they feel it? Master Yoda had the gift of clairvoyance: Would he feel and see what Obi-Wan did? And if not, would this mean there was nothing to fear? Or would it just mean that the Force had chosen to warn him and no other? Which made no sense. Obi-Wan had no answers until he had heard the Council’s verdict. Until he had talked to Master Yoda at the first possible opportunity.
Obi-Wan just wished his master had at least the slightest gift for seeing the future. He longed to share his experience with him, longed to seek his advice first.
But he knew it would be to no avail as he had seen his master holding stubbornly to his beliefs before and mostly he had even thought it an admirable trait. But this time Qui-Gon held on with a never-before felt single-minded determination, one excluding everything else, every word of reason. Not even when voiced by his own grand master—or his padawan.
It was this which frightened—and angered—Obi-Wan to no little extent. These were the feelings that had brought on his flash of disaster. Obi-Wan stiffened as another explanation occurred to him. Could it be he had even caused what he had seen and felt with his dark feelings? It had happened before. But he had been so sure—
Obi-Wan expelled a harsh breath as he had a sinking feeling he had defeated himself again today, had let himself be ruled again by his own anxiety kindled by a new and very imperfect talent. He looked down onto his white-knuckled hands and with conscious effort made them relax their hold on the rail. He held up his fingers, saw them shaking. Still the same failures as ever. Still he let his perceptions, born in anger and fear, determine his reality. He had thought to have overcome it. Had become controlled and calm, had learned never to completely lose his touch with the Force. This was a real drawback indeed, humbling him in face of his obviously overblown self-confidence.
His thoughts were interrupted when he felt the hand on his shoulder move—a hand he had actually forgotten was there—and brush up the nape of his neck to take hold of his short knight’s tail for a moment before moving on to settle on his other shoulder. The small tug on his hair brought Obi-Wan the cherished memory of his master’s fingers in his hair, not a year ago, when he had granted him this visible sign of coming maturity. It had meant his master was beginning to see the knight he was becoming and Obi-Wan hoped he would also start to see the man in the child he had raised. He dreamt of seeing love in Qui-Gon’s gentle eyes so that he would look at Obi-Wan in favor when Obi-Wan actually mustered the nerve to go through with his plans to offer him the vows after his knighting.
His skin prickled where the callused thumb was rubbing little half-circles onto his nape right over the hem of his tunic and Obi-Wan waited for Qui-Gon to say something. After a silence-filled minute he ventured a look up into his master’s face and was surprised to see him again lost in his own thoughts, his eyes unfocused, his head canted slightly as if listening to something distant.
Obi-Wan felt annoyance, chased by apprehension, as he had expected Qui-Gon would of course have felt his turmoil, would now ask him about it, would offer to help him to dispel his anxieties into the Force.
It couldn’t be his shielding had been that good, not when they were in bodily contact!
Concerned he felt along their bond and found it closed on Qui-Gon’s side. Hurt by the rejection Obi-Wan shrunk back into his own mind and stepped away from his teacher, causing the hand to fall off his shoulder.
»Padawan?«
Obi-Wan looked back at him, saw Qui-Gon rubbing his forehead, gazing at him with a quizzical expression. »Yes, Master?«
Qui-Gon sighed and blinked his eyes as if to clear them, his fingers moving in circles as he used acupressure on his temples. »I think—I think you have still much to learn, my Padawan.«
Obi-Wan stared at him. This was unbelievable. Qui-Gon had taken up their discarded conversation as if the last ten minutes of silence hadn’t happened? But, be it so: If his master wanted to ignore him he could manage.
»I still have so much to learn, you’re right, Master,« he echoed the words, concentrating on the truth of the statement, yielding to Qui-Gon’s game. »And do you think I will ever know everything I need, about what makes the universe tick, how people think, how the Living—?«
»My Obi-Wan, I fear you will never know all there is to know,« Qui-Gon interrupted him in a low voice, taking his half-jestful questions serious. »Nobody will ever know everything. We can only learn as much as we can and in the end gracefully acknowledge our own ignorance.«
Relieved that his master was really talking with him again, even if it was only about abstractions, Obi-Wan felt a part of the heaviness in his heart lift. »Did you, Master? Acknowledge your own ignorance?«
Qui-Gon looked down to him with the slightest air of ruefulness. »I confess, it’s difficult sometimes.«
»Sometimes?« Obi-Wan teased quietly, the edges of his lips quivering upwards.
Qui-Gon chuckled softly in his subdued manner and pulled his apprentice to his side.
Obi-Wan let him, feeling the warmth return to his heart. It had become rare in the last year or so for his master to be so affectionate and he intended to enjoy it as long as it lasted.
»So you think someday I will know at least enough to be a knight?« he asked, not out of need for an answer but for just hearing Qui-Gon talk with him, to hear him laugh and have him with him again in all ways that counted.
A big sigh shuddered through the man beside him, causing Obi-Wan to look up to him and he watched as the stark features clouded over again. Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed, his unblinking gaze on the red-washed horizon where the sun was just disappearing. The ruby light on his master’s face turned to a gloomy blue, suddenly making him look older than his years.
Obi-Wan could tell that Qui-Gon was pondering some problem, he seemed deep in thought and the solution brought him sorrow. But why sorrow? Disquieted Obi-Wan wanted to ask but was stopped by the movement of the fingers that held his shoulder. The large hand curled around his neck and for a long second his face was pressed into the hot flesh of his master’s throat.
»You already do,« Qui-Gon said huskily and stepped back, breaking all contact, leaving Obi-Wan’s left side cold and his heart ready to break out of his chest. He shivered, feeling bereft of more than the comforting body heat of his master, sensing that more than just Qui-Gon’s physical self had stepped away from him.
A chill touched his soul and the feeling of upcoming dread settled back on his shoulders with the abruptness of a thunder clap, but the sudden attentive look on his master’s face halted all he could have thought to say.
»We are summoned,« Qui-Gon announced and turned to lead the way back into the Council Chamber leaving Obi-Wan no option but to hurry after him.