Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open, and he let himself stare at the familiar ceiling overhead, his gaze hunting down each well-studied swirl in the paint, each well-known chip in the molding, as he sought to ground himself.
He sat up then, his eyes hunting for his every belonging to reassure his rather unnerved self that nothing had changed, that everything was in its proper place. The paintings were on the walls, the various knickknacks he'd collected against the better judgment of the Council decorated his shelves, and the gifts from his various apprentices were each in their correct location. No dusty boxes sat in the corner; his closet didn't hang open sadly.
An inexplicable urge seized him and he lurched out of bed, tangling himself in the sheets in the process. Once freed, he stumbled for the door, palmed it open, and proceeded to study the hallway. The plant was in its place, along with the sunset painting, and a small wave of relief rolled through him.
I need a cup of tea,Qui-Gon thought sagging against the doorframe for a moment and running his fingers though his loose hair.I need to clam down;this whole situation with Obi-Wan is making me lose my mind.
Rubbing his temples, he walked through the hall and into the common space, heading for the kitchenette. He flicked on the light above the stovetop with a wave of his hand and set the kettle to boil some water, plucking his favorite mug from the drying rack and setting it beside the stove. As he waited for the water to boil, he put away the dishes from dinner, the smell of the familiar spices called for in the recipe still lingering in the air.
He smiled as the memory of the evening came to mind, with Anakin setting the table as he and Obi-Wan worked side by side to prepare the meal Obi-Wan had selected. Qui-Gon had noted how his padawan no longer moved as fluidly as he normally did in the kitchen. To the untrained eye, he still moved with the grace of a first-class chef, but to someone who knew his true skill, his moves seemed jerky and rusty, as though he hadn't cooked in a good while.
Part of Qui-Gon wondered if it was somehow related to the vision Obi-Wan had seen, before sighing and letting it go.
Dinner had been wonderful, full of laughter and more stories at Anakin's request. After they'd finished cleaning up, Anakin and Obi-Wan had settled themselves at the table with a new model kit while Qui-Gon read through the latest messages from the Council. He'd informed Anakin of the Council's decision to test him, as they'd sent a message with the proper meeting time, and though the boy hadn't looked surprised, he certainly looked nervous. Obi-Wan had ruffled Anakin's hair then and asked him how the two parts he held fit together, successfully distracting the boy.
Anakin began nodding off just after the sun finally set, and Obi-Wan had tucked the boy into his bed after reassuring him that he didn't mind sleeping on the couch. Qui-Gon swore he heard Obi-Wan add that he'd slept in worse places, and though Qui-Gon knew that to be true, the images that had flashed along the bond were of nowhere he remembered. He'd meant to ask Obi-Wan about it, but had decided against it, as he pretty much knew the answer he'd get.
Everything came back to those cursed visions.
The sound of water boiling broke Qui-Gon from his reverie, and he shook himself a little before filling his cup. He waited a while, letting the tea steep properly, and once it had reached a nice, dark color, he waved away some of the unnecessary heat. Gathering the mug in hand, he turned, intending to lounge in front of the window. Hopefully he hadn't disturbed Obi-Wan, and since he hadn't felt him stir through their bond –
"Ghosts don't exist, Master."
Qui-Gon froze. A figure stood shadowed in the darkness before the window, their stance utterly familiar.
"So stay dead."
Qui-Gon gasped, jolting backward as the mug he'd been holding shattered against the kitchen tile. Obi-Wan jerked and spun, his eyes red-rimmed and wide with shock, and they stared at each other, blinking for a moment.
"So stay dead."
They remained locked in their positions until Qui-Gon swore loudly; the still-hot tea had reached his foot. He jumped back then, staring down at the mess he'd made. After shaking his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his throat, he waved on the rest of the common space lights.
"Are you all right, Master?" Obi-Wan asked as he drew near, though his eyes were downcast, and Qui-Gon sighed a little. "I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think anyone would be awake at this hour."
"I certainly didn't intend to be, I assure you," he replied as he grabbed the nearest kitchen towel and knelt before the smashed mug. "I had a dream that I found rather… unnerving, and decided to make myself some tea."
"Hm," Obi-Wan murmured and Qui-Gon felt him tug the sponge towards him with a small tendril of the Force. They cleaned in relative silence, with Qui-Gon plucking all the broken pieces from the brown liquid and Obi-Wan mopping up after him, gathering the tea together with slow, steady strokes. Qui-Gon finished long before Obi-Wan did, as his apprentice wasn't really watching himself clean; his eyes were a thousand klicks away.
"Will you tell me?" Obi-Wan asked at last, though he didn't glance up, and Qui-Gon leaned against the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. The sound of a door hissing open made him turn, and he tried to smile when he saw Anakin stumble out into the light of the common space.
"What… happened?" Anakin asked between yawns, his eyes practically shut as he squinted in the light, and his borrowed sleep clothes hung from his thin frame. "I thought I heard somethin' break…"
"I dropped a mug, Ani," Qui-Gon said as the boy rubbed his eyes and yawned again. "There's nothing to worry about."
"You… sure?" Anakin asked, his words once again punctuated by a yawn.
"Quite sure," Obi-Wan said and stepped forward to scoop the boy into his arms, who wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's neck as he tucked himself against the Jedi. "Let's get you back to bed, all right? It's far too early for you to be up, with as much as you did yesterday."
"Mm-hm," Anakin mumbled, his eyes drifting closed as his head lolled against Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Swimmin' was fun… should do it tomorrow."
"If you want," Obi-Wan replied, the door to his room sliding open, and in the moment he was alone, Qui-Gon began preparing another cup of tea, being careful to choose a not-so-favorite mug this time. The water was still hot, and after filling his cup, he leaned back, his mind turning over the question Obi-Wan had posed.
Why am I so reluctant to share this? Is it merely some form of spiteful retaliation, because Obi-Wan is allowed to keep secrets from me? Or is it because I'd rather not burden him with such a dream?
Qui-Gon snorted at that. From what he could gather, his apprentice had seen his fair share of strange and disturbing visions. Surely, something as trivial as this dream would do little in fazing him –
"Is there enough water for a second cup?"
Obi-Wan had succeeded in surprising him for the second time that night, and Qui-Gon was glad he didn't have his tea in hand again, as he probably would've been cleaning it off himself this time around.
"I believe so," he replied, sloshing the water left in the kettle around a little. "Would you like your usual?"
Obi-Wan frowned for a split second, as though he had to think about which tea was his 'usual', but then his face blanked and he shook his head. "I know it's for important occasions, but I'd like some of your special tea, if you don't mind parting with a little. I'm getting rather tired of that sweet one."
Not to mention I haven't touched that stuff in years, came the quiet thought, and Qui-Gon watched his apprentice quietly for a moment, trying to see if he could trace it back to the other Jedi.
Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan drifted back towards the windows, but he stopped at the table, his hand reaching out towards the river rocks. Obi-Wan jerked back then, his fingers curling in on themselves as though he'd burned them, and he turned away, folding his arms over his chest.
When Qui-Gon couldn't trace the thought, he pushed himself away from the counter and began rummaging around in their tea cabinet. In the very back was a nondescript metal container that held his 'special' tea. It was a rare blend, and it had been a gift from a highly pleased king. The tea itself was made from a certain leaf that only grew into maturity every twenty years or so. It was also rather expensive to harvest as it grew in extremely harsh conditions of constant wind and pounding ocean waves. There were many cheaper synthetic knockoffs, but none could beat the full flavor of the tea brewed with the proper leaf.
He didn't bother asking when Obi-Wan had suddenly started liking Mer'shca tea, as it was the strongest and the darkest tea Qui-Gon had ever managed to find, because he had a feeling that he once again already knew the answer he'd get.
Visions, visions, visions, he thought, a bitter twist to his lips as he crushed a tiny amount of tealeaves into another mug, putting the tea back in its place before adding water to the cup. I'm sick to death of them. Yes, patience is essential to a Jedi, but I can't wait until the Council decides whether or not to train Anakin. Then this whole mess will finally be resolved.
"Here," Qui-Gon said, plucking both cups from the counter and handing one to Obi-Wan. He then pulled out a chair, gave his apprentice a look that told him to sit, and moved to the opposite side of the table. "We'll talk once you've finished your tea."
Obi-Wan remained silent, the mug cradled between both hands as he stared down at the waiting chair. Qui-Gon sat, observing him over the rim of his own drink, and finally Obi-Wan lowered himself into the seat, seeming to sink into it. He sipped the tea, the normal face of disgust, complete with a violent shudder, that Obi-Wan would display upon drinking one of Qui-Gon's teas was curiously missing. It made Qui-Gon wonder if it was the visions at work or if Obi-Wan just wasn't paying attention to his drink.
"I know you're a bit of an insomniac, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began once his apprentice set aside his mug, its contents long since drained away. "But somehow I have a feeling this is more than your usual sleeplessness."
Obi-Wan said nothing, and Qui-Gon felt a flash of annoyance. "Did you have another vision that you can't share with me?"
Obi-Wan winced at the bitter sting, staring out at the surrounding night, but he remained silent.
Qui-Gon sighed then, shutting his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "I apologize, padawan. My tone was uncalled for."
"It's all right," Obi-Wan replied absently, his voice rather flat. "You're frustrated. I can understand why."
"Still," Qui-Gon answered, setting his own empty mug aside. "I am your Master, and getting angry with you certainly isn't going to help things. Now if you can, please tell me what's bothering you."
Obi-Wan looked up then, his features pale in the artificial lights. Dark shadows lingered beneath his cloudy grey eyes, his face aging with the tired expression he fixed on Qui-Gon, who fought the shiver that danced down his spine.
What terrors could Obi-Wan have seen to give him eyes that were too old for his body?
"I can't do this, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, hanging his head, and Qui-Gon frowned a little.
"What do you mean? What can't you do?"
"I mean…" Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan squeeze his eyes shut as he slumped in the chair, his hands coming up to cradle his head, his fingers threading with his hair. "I can't take this. I can't take being here, in this apartment. There's just…"
"Too many memories," Qui-Gon whispered and Obi-Wan looked up at him, starting in surprise. "Too many ghosts."
They sat quietly, their gazes meeting as Qui-Gon's words hung between them, and Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan wrestling with something until he drew himself up. "How… who told you that?" he asked, whispering to hide the tremor Qui-Gon could feel.
"You did," Qui-Gon replied, watching Obi-Wan start for a second time.
"I had a dream, where every one of my belongings were slowly being shut away, and you said you shouldn't have come back," he continued, watching what little color that remained in Obi-Wan's face drain away. "Do you know what else you told me? You said that ghosts don't exist."
"So stay dead," Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes wide and the Force coiling around him as he sought to control something Qui-Gon couldn't sense.
"That's why I'm up at this insane hour, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, "because I can't seem to figure out what it means, or where it even came from. I rarely dream, padawan, and when I do there is a distinct reason why."
"It… it was a… a vision," Obi-Wan said at last, shuddering. "I guess it must've leaked through the bond somehow, even though I put up my strongest shields to try and keep it from happening. I'm sorry it disturbed you."
Qui-Gon merely watched his apprentice, his gaze cool as he studied the other Jedi. "There are a lot of things that have been disturbing me lately, and one more thing can't hurt, I suppose," he said quietly. "And though I'd sorely like to know how a vision could alter your Force-presence as drastically as it has, I think I'll settle for at least knowing what made you tell me to 'stay dead'."
"What makes you think I know?" Obi-Wan replied, and Qui-Gon gave him an exasperated look.
"Call it a Jedi hunch," he said, watching Obi-Wan smirk a little, though his eyes remained heavy. "From what you've told me about normal visions, padawan, they're fragments, tiny pieces of the entire picture. That dream certainly wasn't like anything you've described to me previously, so you'll forgive me for being both curious and suspicious."
"I think I'd worry if you weren't," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon snorted in disbelief.
"No, you'd pretend nothing happened and hope I'd let it go," he replied, making his apprentice grimace a little. "Now, are you going to tell me or not?"
Obi-Wan looked up at him, his gaze searching Qui-Gon's for a moment, and then he reached out across the table, his fingertips lightly touching the back of Qui-Gon's hand.
"What…?" Qui-Gon asked, trailing off when his apprentice shook his head, and he frowned as Obi-Wan let his eyes drift shut. He felt the bond open completely, or as much as it could with the heavy shields Obi-Wan had placed over certain parts of his mind, and after sighing a little, Qui-Gon shut his eyes and did the same.
-What are you doing?- he queried as his consciousness drifted along their link, stopping only at the very edge of Obi-Wan's mind.
Qui-Gon's mental presence hovered before the shadowed realm looming before him, part of him alarmed. Obi-Wan had always been one of the brightest beacons of Light he'd ever met, radiating a warmth that drew people, and trouble, to him. The few times Qui-Gon had entered his mind, to drive off some silly fear or reassure the young padawan, he normally met a serene pool of sorts, a calm haven for the Light that permeated Obi-Wan.
But now…
Though the Light was still there, it had been tarnished somehow, with some of the darkest pits of grief and sadness Qui-Gon had ever encountered.
When did this happen? he thought, unable to shield it from rolling through the bond. Why didn't I notice earlier?
-Master,- came Obi-Wan's thought, and Qui-Gon stared at the being who had appeared before him, materializing out of the shadows. It was Obi-Wan, yet it was not Obi-Wan. The man had the same blue-green eyes and ginger hair, but he held himself differently, with a sense of dignity and confidence that the Obi-Wan Qui-Gon was familiar with had yet to truly find.
In addition, he looked at least ten years older. Hints of grey flecked his temples, lines creased his face, but it was the well-trimmed beard that really threw Qui-Gon for a loop. He'd never imagined that he'd see his apprentice wearing one, yet there Obi-Wan was, looking as distinguished as any accomplished Master.
-I thought it would be easier to show you.-
-Show me what?- Qui-Gon asked as Obi-Wan turned, glancing over his shoulder at the twisting labyrinth of his mind. There was a faint click, like an old-fashioned key turning a lock or a safe popping open, and Obi-Wan's gaze flicked back to the bewildered Master.
-The answer to your question.-
Then Obi-Wan was gone, leaving Qui-Gon hovering in the link, a confused frown teasing his features. There was a stirring whisper, the sound of lightsabers crossing rapidly, a shout of surprise. A strange hum filled the air, and the world around Qui-Gon shifted, the darkness melting away to reveal some kind of city's bright white industrial underbelly, catwalks and platforms crisscrossing in a giant room.
Naboo, something whispered. The basement of their great palace; the power generator for their entire city.
The hum grew louder and Qui-Gon turned to see something he could only classify as a long line of great red gates of pure energy, and he could see three figures battling fiercely as they hissed open. He look a tentative step forward, his gaze focusing on the battle, and suddenly he stood a few meters away, reeling in shock.
There was the Sith from Tatooine, his outer robe discarded and his tattooed face sneering as he spun, deftly wielding a double bladed lightsaber against two very familiar Jedi. Obi-Wan, back to his twenty-five year old padawan self, swung his azure lightsaber at the Sith and was kicked roughly by a blow he hadn't seen coming. Qui-Gon watched as his apprentice went flying, landing with a painful thud a good distance away, leaving the other Jedi to fight alone.
Of all the bizarre experiences I've had, this one takes the Corellian cake, he thought, watching an exact replica of himself battle the Sith with a graceful combination of fluidity and intensity. He could see that his other self had really pulled out all the stops, so to speak, and was fighting in top form, meeting his opponent blow for blow. They danced down the row of opened energy gates, blades sparking and spitting as they crossed, the Sith a whirl of dark cloaks and the Force singing as it flowed through the other Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon followed, unable to stop his feet, and he watched Obi-Wan pick himself up, shaking his head a little. His gaze snapped up to the fighters, who were striking at each other rapidly, their weapons a blur of green and red. Fear flickered in his blue-green depths and he raced past Qui-Gon, his focus devoted to the Master he saw in need of assistance.
Because as much as Qui-Gon hated to admit it, he was getting old. He could still remember the skill of the Sith when they'd fought on Tatooine, and he'd known then that he would've been unable to best the Dark Sider on his own. He could sense that the blows from his other self were slowing down, the strength behind them fluctuating dangerously. He could see the sweat as it beaded down the other's forehead, the slight tremble in his arms when he barely blocked a vicious strike from the Zabrak.
-Master, hang on!- Obi-Wan's thought rolled through the bond, despite the fact that he was concentrating on the other Qui-Gon. –Just hang on! I'll be right there!-
-Hurry, - came the quiet return and the Force swirled around Obi-Wan as he worked to enhance his sprint. He didn't get very far when the gates finally slid shut, blocking him about a few meters into the hallway. The other Qui-Gon stood at the opposite end, quite a good distance away, but from what Qui-Gon could see, there was a gate separating him from the Sith, who paced at the end like some caged animal.
-Master, you've got to back up once these things cycle again so I can help you properly,- Obi-Wan sent, his barely controlled panic making the Force bend and twist around him. Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's fists clenching and unclenching and he shifted from foot to foot, counting the seconds until the gates would open. –I might not be able to get to you otherwise.-
Here was the Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon remembered, the one who was coolly polite to strangers and chastised him about the Code. He was impatient, he was reckless, and his life was devoted to being a padawan, to the Order, and to his Master, who he loved like a father. He was not the haunted young man Qui-Gon had come to know, scarred by unknown evils and tormented by unseen demons, and the Light shone brightly around him.
-It'll be all right. Don't worry,- came the other Qui-Gon's reply, and Qui-Gon watched his other self kneel as he strove to conserve his energy. –Calm yourself, padawan. Your fear is distracting me.-
Obi-Wan grimaced. –Forgive me, Master. But we've never fought anything like this and I'm worried. I might not make it all the way down the hall before the gates close and I don't want you to face that monster on your own.-
There was a warm pulse through the bond as the other Qui-Gon thanked Obi-Wan for his concern. –You will, padawan. I have the utmost confidence in your skills.-
The surrounding hum heightened in pitch and Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan tense, preparing himself to run. The gates had barely opened enough for him to pass through unscathed when he was off, sprinting as fast as the Force could take him, his gaze locked on the titans clashing before him.
-Almost… NO! Not now, not yet!-
The hum heightened again just as Obi-Wan reached the final block of gates and he had to slide to narrowly avoid being sliced by one, but it did little good. There was still one more gate separating him from the other Qui-Gon, and his anxiety doubled, coiling throughout his body and the Force.
"Calm down," Qui-Gon heard him whisper, blowing out a breath to ease some of his mounting tension. His gaze was still locked on the fighters a mere meter from him, who wove back and forth across the confined space, whirling around some kind of hole that Qui-Gon couldn't make out. Their blows were falling more rapidly, the figures utter blurs to the eye as they drew heavily on the different sides of the Force, spinning and leaping as they attempted to best the other.
Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen… Obi-Wan's thoughts rolled through the bond in spite of the shielding he'd placed around them to keep them from distracting his Master. Come on, come on, just a little more… hang on, Master!
Then it happened.
Qui-Gon looked up just in time to see a poorly-timed overhead strike leave his other self's torso wide open and the Sith leapt forward, driving one blood-red blade into the exposed stomach of the Jedi Master.
"NO!"
-MASTER!- came Obi-Wan's panicked shout. Qui-Gon stared, his mouth falling open slightly as he watched his other self blink in surprise, and the Sith smashed his chin with the heel of his palm, shoving the stunned Master backwards.
The Sith then turned his attention towards Obi-Wan, his yellow eyes gleaming, and a cruel smirk twisted his lips. Yet Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice; outrage and horror poured off him and echoed in Qui-Gon. The Force churned in response, like an ocean during a terrible storm, and it only grew worse as the other Qui-Gon fell to the floor, with a thump that was painfully loud.
-Master, no! Speak to me! Please! Please hang on!-
There was no response, only a faint murmur along their link, and the gates hissed open. A cry of rage tore itself from Obi-Wan's throat and he lunged at the Sith. Qui-Gon found he couldn't tear his gaze from his other self, the one who lay on the durasteel floor, whose eyes had long since closed. Qui-Gon could feel that the man's life hung by a thread, a thread that steadily frayed with each passing moment.
There was a clatter of metal on metal as Obi-Wan called the other Qui-Gon's lightsaber to him, but Qui-Gon's gaze didn't waver. He found he couldn't move, locked as his gaze was on his other, dying self. The sight sent chills dancing across his skin, his stomach churning in revulsion…
The doors slid shut, leaving Qui-Gon to watch through the reddish tint as Obi-Wan slashed through the metal hilt of the Sith's lightsaber, the red blades fizzling out. The padawan spun then, bringing his own lightsaber through the enemy's torso with a grunt of exertion, his face twisting with the effort.
Then the enemy fell, his yellow eyes wide, frozen in perpetual shock, as his severed body tumbled down the airshaft.
-Master!-
Obi-Wan hurried to the other Qui-Gon's side, dropping to his knees and his hands coming up to frame his Master's face. Qui-Gon watched his other self open his eyes slowly, his glassy vision barely seeming to register the person hovering over him, and one of his hands twitched as it tried to reach up to Obi-Wan.
-Master, just hang on! I'm going to get you to a MedCenter! The Sith is gone; everything is going to be fine!- Obi-Wan was practically shouting over their bond, trying to keep the other Qui-Gon's attention focused. –I need you to hang on! You can't die; not yet, not like this! Do you hear me? Master?-
"Obi…Wan…" the other Qui-Gon whispered, his eyes steadily darkening as he reached up to tenderly touch the padawan braid hanging in his face. Qui-Gon could feel the bond rapidly weakening, no matter how much Obi-Wan shouted and screamed into it, and his other self's fingers wove around the braid.
"Train… the boy…"
Qui-Gon could sense part of Obi-Wan freeze at that, and though most of him was railing against the Force, demanding it to save his dying Master, there was a sharp flash of dark bitterness that zinged through Obi-Wan's soul, ripping open the first of several deep wounds.
"Promise… me…"
"I promise," Obi-Wan whispered, though Qui-Gon could hear every mutinous thought, screaming and demanding the other Qui-Gon to say something more, to tell him how proud he was of his padawan, even if he hadn't been fast enough… even though he had failed…
There was nothing.
One final breath escaped the other Qui-Gon's lips and awareness faded from his eyes, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the bowels of the power generator. Qui-Gon watched him squeeze his eyes shut as he pressed his forehead to his dead Master's. The Force whipped around him as grief and sorrow rose in him like some great incoherent beast, one that tore at his soul from the inside out. He rocked back and forth, tears trickling down his cheeks and off his nose, and he crushed the lifeless body to his, his mind shrieking with a litany of denials.
Qui-Gon shut his eyes when the first scream tore itself from Obi-Wan's throat, an inhuman howl that echoed through the Force, and he found himself shaking.
-My padawan… this is what you saw?-
Qui-Gon opened his eyes for the second time that night, and found himself staring up at the common space ceiling. He realized he was lying on the couch, though how he'd gotten there was a mystery. After blinking away the tears that clouded his vision, he looked around for Obi-Wan.
He found his apprentice in the kitchen, boiling more water for tea, and when he sat up, tapping tentatively at Obi-Wan's shields, he watched the other Jedi tense.
"Make two cups of Mer'scha, please," Qui-Gon said, watching Obi-Wan nod, though he refused to look up from his task.
"Why didn't you show me sooner, Obi-Wan?" he asked after a long bout of silence, though his apprentice didn't answer, the slight tremor as Obi-Wan poured the water the only thing voicing his discomfort.
"Obi-Wan?"
The other Jedi remained silent, picking up the two mugs and walking towards the sitting area, his eyes downcast once more. He handed Qui-Gon his cup before kneeling beside the couch, sipping his own tea cautiously.
Qui-Gon made no move to copy his apprentice; he watched the young man stare off into nothing, and something finally snapped within him.
Setting his tea on the side table, Qui-Gon then snatched up Obi-Wan's, placing it beside the first. He slid off the couch, kneeling before his padawan, and grabbed the other in a bone-crushing embrace.
Qui-Gon sensed what fragile control Obi-Wan had been exerting over his emotions shatter, and he returned the embrace. His hands clung to the fabric of Qui-Gon's sleep tunic and he pressed his face to his Master's shoulder.
A sob ripped itself from Obi-Wan's throat and Qui-Gon strove to send as much comfort as he could through the bond, stuffing it with love and affection and any other warm feeling he held, trying to drive off the abandoned feeling that had settled on the other. Obi-Wan's grip tightened at that, his tears worsening, though Qui-Gon could sense his relief that the vision hadn't been true, that he hadn't really watched his adopted father die. He sucked up everything Qui-Gon could send him, trying to sooth over one of the many still-weeping wounds in his heart. Qui-Gon got the strange sense that this particular wound had been around for years, only ever just scabbing over instead of completely healing, and he couldn't hold his tongue any longer.
"How long have you carried this?" he asked quietly, his hands making small circles on Obi-Wan's shaking back. "How long have you kept all this inside? And why didn't I notice before?"
"Years," came the choked whisper, and Qui-Gon tightened his hold, resting his chin atop Obi-Wan's fuzzy head. "Years, and years, and years."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, shutting his eyes and wrapping his padawan in as much positive emotions as possible. "I would've helped you work through this. I would've helped you heal this a long time ago."
"You couldn't," came the muffled reply, punctuated by a bitter, tearful laugh. "No one could help me. Don't you see? I was alone, and the only person who ever really cared was dead."
Me, Qui-Gon thought, part of him steadily breaking down under the onslaught of Obi-Wan's grief and another part wondering if it all really was from of some frightening vision. Granted, it had been horrible and traumatic, but couldn't Obi-Wan see that it hadn't been real? That Qui-Gon was still alive and well, with no smoking lightsaber holes through his gut?
"Padawan," he whispered, rocking back and forth gently. "Don't lose yourself to this. Do you hear me? This is now; that vision wasn't real. It wasn't real. You're safe, I'm alive, and we're nowhere near Naboo. We probably won't ever go back, considering that Yoda has grounded us for a little while. Another team of Jedi, several younger Masters without apprentices, have been assigned to protect the queen in our absence. So please, padawan. Focus on me here; this is your reality."
"I want to believe that, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, his sobs quieting just enough for him to be heard. "I want to believe that so very much, but I can't. Not completely. It hurts too much. That's why I packed everything away, why I shoved everything in a closet somewhere, so I wouldn't have to look at it. I didn't want to remember. I thought I could stop it from hurting, I thought I could protect myself from it ever happening again. And then…"
"Obi-Wan, you're not listening to me," he replied when his apprentice's voice dissolved into incoherent sobs, hardening his tone ever so slightly. "I'm here. I'm solid, not some intangible vision. Let go of that wound, because it stems from an impossibility. Can't you see, padawan? I'm not dead. I'm not."
"But you were," came the chilling response. "You were. I felt you die; I felt the bond snap, and I could do nothing. I failed you over and over, costing you your life and then dishonoring your memory… I failed, and I lost everything."
"I knew something was wrong!"
Qui-Gon's head snapped up to see Anakin glaring at them from the hallway, his fists planted on his hips, but tears shone in his eyes and on his cheeks. Obi-Wan shuddered, his grip tightening and his face pressing harder against Qui-Gon's shoulder, and Qui-Gon frowned inwardly. Why had Anakin's entrance caused such a reaction?
"Come here, Ani," Qui-Gon said softly, loosing a hand from around his apprentice and extending it to the boy. "Nothing was wrong earlier; Obi-Wan startled me then."
Anakin regarded him dubiously, not unlike the face he'd made when Obi-Wan had tried getting him into the water, but edged forward and took the proffered hand. His gaze then turned to the padawan, his lips tightening and a fresh wave of tears rising in his eyes.
"I saw it," he whispered, his small hand tightening on Qui-Gon's. "I saw what upset him, with that black, evil Jedi and how you were fighting him," he added and Qui-Gon stared at the boy as Obi-Wan jerked upright to fix his startled gaze on Anakin.
"I went straight back to sleep and then I started dreaming of a beautiful palace, but I could hear people fighting somewhere, so I walked around, and I saw you and Qui-Gon fighting," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I had to watch; I couldn't help. I couldn't help you stop it from happening."
"How…?" Obi-Wan whispered, glancing up at Qui-Gon, who quirked an eyebrow in response.
-You have a bond with him, Obi-Wan, and it has been growing steadily ever since that first night on the ship,-he said, watching his apprentice's eyes widen. –You used it earlier to wake him up. Surely you remember that?-
Obi-Wan shut his eyes then, and drew away slightly so that he could turn a little towards Anakin. "I'm so sorry, Ani," he said, opening his eyes. "I never meant for you to see that and I apologize if it scared you."
Anakin shook his head, tears spilling over before he could scrub them away, and Obi-Wan extended a hand to gently touch the boy's shoulder. "It just hurt," he whispered. "It was a million times worse than any of my nightmares."
"Come here," Obi-Wan said and Anakin threw himself at the padawan, wrapping his small arms around Obi-Wan's neck, and Qui-Gon held the both of them, resisting the urge to smile at the picture the three of them must've made.
"You're not alone, Obi-Wan," he heard Anakin say, the boy's voice slightly muffled. "You've got me, and you've got Qui-Gon, and neither one of us is going anywhere."
Qui-Gon watched as a small smile tugged at Obi-Wan's lips, and his grip tightened on the both of them.
"You're right, Ani," Obi-Wan said, resting his head against Qui-Gon, and shutting his eyes. Through their bond, Qui-Gon could sense a wound was beginning to close, though it still radiated grief and sorrow. "I'm not alone."
This is my reality, something whispered. I'd better keep living it.