Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 13)
"Good morning, Master."
Obi-Wan was fully dressed and awaiting Qui-Gon when his master came out of the bedroom. Qui-Gon was perplexed but did not let it show.
Obi-Wan stood ramrod straight, if not entirely still. He was wavering, just slightly. He looked haggard, but, other than that, seemed almost too well put together. The paradoxical appearance of his padawan could easily have turned Qui-Gon from his course. He reminded himself he must be steadfast.
Obi-Wan's back stiffened as Qui-Gon continued his silent inspection. "Be at ease, Padawan," Qui-Gon ordered at last.
Ease was the last thing Obi-Wan could afford and he knew it. Only tenacity had gotten him this far. He would never have guessed it could take such an effort to simply wash one's face and don one's clothes. Still, he took a stab at giving the appearance of relaxing. It must have succeeded, because Qui-Gon spoke again
"Obi-Wan," he said, "we must talk about last night."
"I have no excuse for last night," Obi-Wan replied - maybe he could avoid what he had thought inevitable this morning - "only an explanation. I was very tired and very angry."
Qui-Gon felt one of the many bands of tension in his chest uncoil. Perhaps getting Obi-Wan the help he needed would not be as grim a task as he had been preparing himself for. "Your apology is accepted, Obi-Wan, but that is not the only problem. I've had reports -"
"That I rescheduled with the MOC and missed my healer's appointment."
"You rescheduled?" Qui-Gon repeated, taken aback by the unanticipated candor.
"Yes, I contacted J-S17," Obi-Wan said. He had waited until the hour of the appointment to do so, but Qui-Gon did not need to know that. "He reviewed procedure and agreed it would be acceptable for me to appear before them when we had completed our work on Arcan 3."
"Master Edtchel's message said you had missed your interview," Qui-Gon responded.
Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Perhaps she should keep more up to date with her scheduling droid."
That wangled a small smile out of his master. "And the healers?" Qui-Gon asked.
"I have been remiss there," Obi-Wan admitted. "With the amount of text to be translated and the abbreviated time we have to do it in, I did put off the healer's appointment."
"We discussed this, Obi-Wan. You must see them. At the very least you should have notified them."
"I know, Master. I will amend that this morning."
Could it be the truth? Obi-Wan sounded so reasonable. None of his recent behavioral aberrations were in evidence. Was it possible Qui-Gon did not see what he thought he had last night? Could Obi-Wan simply have been tired and put out with him?
"You were on the balcony a long while last night. Are you recovered?" Qui-Gon probed.
"I'm . . ." Obi-Wan stumbled over the rote lie. "I've been better," he confessed.
Qui-Gon continued to be encouraged by his openness. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Not much. I had . . . I couldn't. I had another nightmare and -"
"Can you tell me what it was about?" Qui-Gon put a stop to Obi-Wan's defense. If he would not answer the question, they were going to the healers' wing and not the Archives, no matter how good Obi-Wan's explanations were.
"I'm not sure you want to know," Obi-Wan replied.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon admonished him.
"Master," Obi-Wan stalled, "it was you and Mekall. You were . . . " How does one tell one's Master this?
"Fighting?"
Obi-Wan nearly expelled aloud the breath he had been holding. "Something like that," he sidestepped.
"We seem to do little else," Qui-Gon said. "I have been trying to keep you out of it. I don't want you to feel as if you're caught between us."
If Obi-Wan had had any color in his face, he would have blanched.
Qui-Gon tried to employ the master-apprentice bond, but had no more access than on previous attempts. As he was growing used to barely feeling Obi-Wan in his head and he assumed his padawan had made the same adjustment, it would have been invasive to go any deeper. He would have to judge by what was directly in front of him, not what he perceived nor what he wanted to believe. It was that much harder with Obi-Wan acting the way he expected him to. While Obi-Wan was obviously unwell, Qui-Gon did not want to punish him for being changed by his experiences and needing more time to assimilate those changes.
What Obi-Wan was telling him felt true. If it was, maybe he was finally beginning to make the adjustment to being back. Qui-Gon decided he would evaluate Obi-Wan's conduct for a while longer before taking any additional action.
They went to the dining hall together. Obi-Wan made a valiant effort to eat firstmeal. The initial flush of accomplishment his small victory in their quarters provided was eclipsed by renewed doubts. As his master ate and chatted in an incomprehensibly workaday fashion, Obi-Wan grew angry, first with Qui-Gon, then with himself.
How can he be so oblivious? Obi-Wan thought. How can he sit there so normally? What is he talking about?
What are you talking about? he answered himself. Why would Qui-Gon not think things normal? You have been doing everything in your power to get him to think they are. Mission accomplished. Now, live with your triumph.
When they got to the Archives, the head archivist informed them with no small degree of satisfaction that the final scroll had successfully been downloaded overnight. For the first time in three days, Obi-Wan and his master would be working together.
Qui-Gon read that as a good sign - maybe times were taking a turn for the better - until he glanced at Obi-Wan who looked flustered by the news.
Obi-Wan got control of himself and sat down in front of one of the Archive's blue computer screens. He opened his datapad as Qui-Gon took the seat next to him.
"Obi-Wan, are you sure you're up to this?" Qui-Gon asked as he arranged some additional resources for ease of use. "There is no shame in admitting you need help."
Obi-Wan wanted to weep with gratitude, then he realized this could not be what it sounded like. Qui-Gon wanted to get him to go to the healers. How to get him there? Get him to ask for help. How stupid did Qui-Gon think he was?
"I made you a promise," Obi-Wan told him. "I intend to keep it."
"All right." Qui-Gon laid his hand on Obi-Wan's forearm where it rested on the table.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, but he looked down so Qui-Gon would not see it. He drew a silent breath to quell a shudder.
"All right, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon repeated, "if you're sure."
"I'm not sure, Master," Obi-Wan longed to shout. "I'm sick and I'm tired and I just want to go home, but I am home and it isn't home anymore."
He wanted to say it. Oh, how he wanted to say it. He wanted to ball his fists in the V of his master's tunics and beg for help. He could envision it. All he had to do was open his mouth. One word and Qui-Gon would . . .
Would what? Rescue me? I wonder if that will go as well as the last two.
No. He had been rescued enough.
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan responded noncommittally.
Qui-Gon could make no determination from the emotions which passed across Obi-Wan's face and, as expected, he could pick up next to nothing from their bond. He had a sense that he should stop this right now, but he was torn. If they could get the translation finished, then Obi-Wan would feel he had done his duty. Might that make him more amenable to accepting the aid he needed?
Obi-Wan had already returned his attention to his datapad. Qui-Gon stopped him long enough to discuss which sections of text each would work on, then stepped away to request clarification of some data he had received from Jocasta Nu.
Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, breathing several quiet breaths of relief. So far, so good. He opened the file which contained the first section of the fifth scroll.
If he got to work and kept at it, maybe Qui-Gon would not ask any additional questions and he could get through this day. He scanned the initial few words and began to tap out the modern equivalent of what he had read. He stopped, scowling at the volume his fingers made when they hit the keys. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard.
Don't be ridiculous. You know they didn't. Now get to work.
He took a minute to organize his thoughts. That was when he noticed how loud his breathing sounded. Although not nearly as loud as that of the Patrosian knight who sat several seats to his right. The knight held a stylus, making a sketch of the item she was reading about. The scritchscritch of the writing implement made Obi-Wan's spine arch. Glaring at the knight only got him a social smile and a look of curiosity. He returned his attention to the words in front of him.
Obi-Wan's eyes scanned across the first line of text. The letters did not form into comprehensible words. He scanned the next line and the next. They were no better. He closed his eyes, ran his fingers over the lids, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He was just fatigued; he had had almost no sleep. He simply had to concentrate, carry on. He could end his distraction. He breathed out and in and opened his eyes.
Head down. Eyes front. Here we go.
Across the room, someone moved a chair. Obi-Wan jumped. Seeking the source of the intrusion, he went back to his work quickly when his scowl was met by the stern glare of an elderly master.
All right. If he could not find meaning in text, he would work around it.
If it does not want to come together, I'll take it apart, he thought, as he began to deconstruct the paragraph.
He had gotten to the fourth line and was finally making headway, succeeding at deciphering a verb whose meaning depended on the tense in which it was being used, when a durasheet rustled noisily out of the grasp of the knight to his left. Obi-Wan watched mesmerized as it coasted to the floor.
Where was I?
The lines he had been translating had gone out of his head. He stared stupidly at the terminal. It did not deign to provide any clues.
Qui-Gon sat down beside him with a small inquisitive smile. Obi-Wan smiled back tightly and returned to his reading, but it was no good. He could not make sense of it. He kept his eyes down anyway, to appear engrossed in his work.
Because I have to. Have to keep it up. Can't let down. Can't reveal myself to them. To him. Don't let him ask. Don't let him talk. Don't let him see. Don't let him -
"I'll be back in a while, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, getting to his feet. He went off in search of a holofile he needed in order to verify a question of the royal lineage.
He had not seen.
The breath Obi-Wan released was loud and jagged.
Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon's path as he walked away, to be sure his master did not turn around. He did not. However, as he walked, he began to . . .
Wait, Obi-Wan thought, that's not . . . right.
How odd.
Qui-Gon's form had begun to fluctuate.
Obi-Wan shook his head to clear his vision, but Qui-Gon continued to . . .
But it was not only Qui-Gon. Everything in the room had taken on a fuzziness around the edges, a fraying look, as if the world had begun to unravel by degrees.
Was he too . . .
Obi-Wan held out his hand. It looked solid enough, but . . .
While he could not see any shaking, he could feel it, as if some unseeable tumult was occurring beneath his skin. He put his hands on the keyboard, but they were not firm; they were mutable and began to merge into the datapad. When he pulled his hands away, the sudden gesture attracted the attention of a Jedi further down the table.
Stop this, Obi-Wan berated himself. He took a slow breath, quieter, through his nose not his mouth, and very carefully placed his hands on the keys.
Type. Anything, just type. There. She'll go back to - That's it. She's going back to her work. Okay, just keep at it. You're fine. It's fine now. It's, it's all right. If you just focus, everything will be . . . will be okay. Every . . . everything . . . everything's . . . going to . . . be . . .
Obi-Wan's head snapped up and he suppressed a gasp. Had he fallen asleep? In the middle of the Archives? He looked around furtively. His master was not within sight and evidently no one else had taken notice.
No one had noticed. No one ever did.
But he didn't want them to notice. Did he? No, he didn't. He . . . didn't. He had to - Had to . . . What? Work. He had to work.
He looked down at his datapad once again. The print wavered, characters dancing away from their structured lines. The more he concentrated, the more they seemed to be defying him. He felt a prickling sensation in his skull. The lonely bit of food in his stomach was rebelling. He closed his eyes, his breathing quick and shallow. He could not control it. The sound of it was humiliating. He had to find some way to work through this. He had to create another shield. Had to keep intact. Keep himself to himself. Keep it out. No - in. Keep it . . . keep . . .
Keep shielding. He had to erect another shield.
Obi-Wan reached frantically into the Force. The Force fought back. He bounced off it. It felt like being flung soaking wet through a sheet of blackest ice. Violent trembling overtook him. He was sweating, freezing and sweating again; burning up while his innards went gelid.
Not here. Not now. Not like this.
He had to get out. Escape was the only thought in his mind. Without closing his datapad, without a word to his master, Obi-Wan abandoned his post.
Obi-Wan was so cold his teeth were chattering. He went back to the rooms and, removing only his boots, got into bed.
"Are you dressed?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied belatedly. He had been hoping, somehow, Mekall would just ignore him. "Why?" Mekall inquired.
"Cold."
"You're cold," Mekall echoed softly, sleep-fogged. "Are you supposed to be here now?"
"No."
"What's going on?" Mekall's desire to remain asleep was losing ground to his concern for Obi-Wan.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Mekall responded, sitting up. Obi-Wan's back was to him.
"What difference does it make?"
"You've got me there," Mekall said. At least it was more than a one word answer. "Turn over. I need to see you."
Obi-Wan obeyed. He was pallid, and, despite being dressed, shaking with cold and sweating. The devastation in his eyes nearly took Mekall's breath away.
Mekall extended his hand. Obi-Wan pointedly ignored it, his expression becoming wary.
How many times do you bang your head against the same obstacle before you smarten up and walk around it? Mekall asked himself. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked Obi-Wan.
"Some."
"What? Five minutes?"
Obi-Wan said nothing.
"Another nightmare?" Mekall asked.
"Yes."
"What about?"
Obi-Wan did not answer.
"Same thing?" Mekall persisted.
"No," Obi-Wan replied, "this one was . . . you. And Qui-Gon."
"Me and Qui-Gon?"
"Yes. You . . . and . . . and you were . . . " Obi-Wan was having no more success finding words to describe it to Mekall than when he had spoken to his master.
"Fighting?"
A grim exhalation that might have been laughter escaped Obi-Wan.
Mekall looked quizzical.
"Qui-Gon, he said the exact same thing," Obi-Wan said.
"Obi-Wan," Mekall began, putting his hand on Obi-Wan's arm.
Obi-Wan sat up, slipping out from under it.
Mekall withdrew to his side of the bed. "Right. Fine. Have it your - You know what? No. We're going to talk. I'm not doing this," he gestured back and forth between them, "anymore. First you're jumping me, then you're shaking me off. I'm aware that some of it is the bond. I'm doing it myself. I mean last night . . . well, you know, but I can't tell what you're thinking. I don't know why you're doing what you're doing, Obi-Wan. You've shut me out completely. I won't stand by as a spectator while you destr -"
"What do you want me to do?" Obi-Wan interjected quietly.
Mekall stopped short. It took him a few seconds to reply, "Let me in."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
Obi-Wan could not say.
"If you want me to go, I will," Mekall told him. "All you have to do is say the word. I'll find out what we have to do to dissolve the bond. It can't be indefeasible. I don't want to leave you, but I will, if you tell me it's what you want. If you want me here, you have to let me know that too. Obi-Wan, tell me what to do and I'll do it. Let me help you." "I don't think anyone can."
"You're wrong," Mekall assured him.
"All right, then I don't know if I want them to," Obi-Wan said. He looked up and their eyes met. "Qui-Gon thinks I'm using you."
"You heard that?" Mekall asked.
"Most of it. Who could sleep through you two?"
That produced a chagrined half-smile from Mekall. Obi-Wan smiled back fleetingly, then his face became guarded again.
"I don't want you . . . to feel used," he said.
"Two nights ago he thought I was using you," Mekall countered. "He doesn't know what he thinks and even if he did, it doesn't matter, only what you think and, more importantly, what you need."
"I don't want to hurt you," Obi-Wan carried on as if Mekall had not spoken. "Last night . . . I almost . . . I -"
"Almost what?"
"Almost . . . "
Mekall's worry for Obi-Wan began to vie with impatience as Obi-Wan grew further away. "Obi-Wan, look at me."
Obi-Wan's eyes shifted to Mekall but did not focus.
"Last night . . ." Obi-Wan repeated wispily.
"Is over. Focus on the here and now."
Obi-Wan laughed weirdly. "You . . . " he shuddered. "You sounded just like . . . "
"Cut it out," Mekall ordered. "You're giving me the creeps. What are you talking about?"
"About last night."
"What about it?"
Obi-Wan found himself at a loss. How do you say 'I thought to lure you outside to jump off the balcony with me'? He flashed back to Mekall lying on the ground, dead. Another tremor went through him. His eyes cleared and engaged his bondmate's once more.
"Mekall . . ."
Obi-Wan lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch Mekall but there was too much space between them. "I'm so cold," he murmured. Mekall opened his arms. Obi-Wan looked terrified.
"What is it?" Mekall demanded.
"In my dream. You were . . . you had - too many arms."
"One. Two, Obi-Wan," Mekall said, demonstrating by tapping left with right and right with left. "Think. Stay with me. 'Cause this isn't that. That was Dharuje."
"Last night, it was you. His voice . . . You spoke in his . . . And, and Qui-Gon. Arms and . . . mouths and you were both . . . all over me." Obi-Wan shuddered.
Mekall took a deep breath. His inclination was to be hurt, but as it would do Obi-Wan no good, he did not let it take hold.
"It was a bad dream, that's all," Mekall said, moving slowly toward Obi-Wan. "It wasn't real. You know I wouldn't hurt you."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Nothing is real," he whispered.
How much more wrong could he be? Mekall thought. "Stop it," he said, putting a little anger he did not feel into his voice, enough - he hoped - to wrest Obi-Wan from this daze. "I'm real. You're real. This is real."
Mekall slid the rest of the way up to him, angled in and brought his lips to Obi-Wan's. He was all but convinced it was the wrong thing to do, but if that did not succeed in grounding Obi-Wan to physical reality, nothing would.
Obi-Wan's eyes flew open at the contact. Appalled and craving more at the same time, he closed his eyes again. Fighting an urge to shove Mekall away, he desperately tried to manage his clash of emotions.
Real, he thought. Be real. No more arms, no more mouths, just Mekall's lips . . . pulling away. Don't. Mekall sat back. "You okay?"
Obi-Wan nodded tremulously, attempting to smile. Mekall took the chance and put his arms around him. Obi-Wan responded in kind and let the shields on the bond drop slightly as well. Mekall experienced the familiar warmth with a gratitude colored by his fear for Obi-Wan and a persistent streak of self-preservation that struck him as so ruthlessly selfish he hated himself for it.
Mekall hugged Obi-Wan closer. His bondmate was like ice. Swallowing his disgust with himself, Mekall pulled the blanket up and tucked it tightly around Obi-Wan. "What can I do?" he asked.
"Don't let me go," Obi-Wan implored.
"I won't." Mekall pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's hair. "I'm right here with you. Right here."
Mekall's breathing quickened as Obi-Wan gave him access to his coldness and fear. Mekall calmed himself and channeled that calm back to Obi-Wan. Even with the limited flow passing between them, Obi-Wan's shivering subsided. They lay down together and Mekall drifted back to sleep. Obi-Wan stayed in his arms, fully dressed, wide awake, waiting for the other boot to drop. It did not take long.
The door of the quarters opened and closed.
Qui-Gon's footfalls headed directly to him.
Although he found Obi-Wan and Mekall in bed together, Obi-Wan fully dressed and Mekall naked, Qui-Gon did not so much as hesitate. "Obi-Wan."
Mekall stirred. Qui-Gon reached down and put his hand to Mekall's forehead, sending him into deeper sleep. He was not going to interfere this time.
"Master." Obi-Wan was ice cold again. His shivering had redoubled, but the conditioned response found its way to his lips nevertheless.
"Why are you in bed? Are you ill?"
Obi-Wan could not think of a suitable reply. 'I'm cold' sounded imbecilic in his head.
Qui-Gon's worst fears had beset him when he saw Obi-Wan was no longer in the Archives. Unable to raise Obi-Wan on his comlink, Qui-Gon had headed directly for their quarters. Finding Obi-Wan like this proved to him just how troubled Obi-Wan was, but he was in no position to coddle him. He was, they both were, at the incontrovertible end of a road of missed opportunities for redemption. He had no choice but to resort to the harsh tactics he had been prepared to use earlier.
"I require an answer, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon demanded, "when you abandon your post and turn off your comlink and I find you fully clothed in bed in the middle of the morning."
"I don't have one, Master."
"Then please get out of bed."
"I . . . I can't." Obi-Wan's voice had gone weak.
"If you're ill, you should go to the healers. I'll take you myself, if you wish."
"I can't." Obi-Wan's voice broke when he tried to repeat it. He could not look at Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon frowned, breathing out his aversion for what he had to do. "I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, Obi-Wan. You may get up and return to the Archives with me if you are able. If not, you will see a healer."
"But -"
"Evin Sollas has offered to act as a go-between. I'll schedule your initial appointment with him."
"Master . . ."
"No, Obi-Wan, not this time. I will conclude the interpretation of the texts. You will begin to work with the healers or whomever you choose to resolve whatever it is that you have been unable to tell m - whatever it is that's causing you to act in this manner." "Qui-Gon -"
Qui-Gon waited. When Obi-Wan did not continue, he asked, "What do you have to say, Obi-Wan?"
"Nothing. Master."
Qui-Gon watched him for another minute. Obi-Wan continued to look away and did not speak another word. Qui-Gon left the room.
After Qui-Gon had gone, Obi-Wan stared out the window a long time, his eyes fixed on the balcony. Then he sought protection against Mekall's chest. Blissfully ignorant in sleep, Mekall stretched his arm over his bondmate.
An hour had passed. Qui-Gon knocked on Obi-Wan's bedroom door.
"It's time, Obi-Wan," he said through the closed door.
Obi-Wan did not respond.
Mekall was asleep; Qui-Gon had done thorough work. Obi-Wan was sitting in the chair across the room, watching Mekall and searching his mind for a way out of this predicament.
"Mekall, wake up," Obi-Wan said, rising and going to the bed. "We have to leave."
"Right," Mekall agreed muzzily.
"We have to go. Get up," Obi-Wan prodded him.
Mekall looked at him owlishly. "What are you talking about? Why are you not in b - When did I fall back to sleep?"
Mekall's confusion was getting them nowhere. "Concentrate, Mekall. You have to get up. Qui-Gon is making me go to the healers. I can't do that. We're going to leave."
"Oh." Then, "Forget it."
"What?"
"I'm not leaving and I won't let you leave. It's time to stop running, Obi-Wan. Face your enemy."
"Which enemy?" Obi-Wan spat. He turned his back on his bondmate and exited the room.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked as Obi-Wan came out of his bedroom.
"Oh, I think you've done enough, Master," Obi-Wan sneered.
Qui-Gon showed no reaction which was not difficult. He hardly knew the person who stood across the room. "Then we should go," he said.
Obi-Wan preceded Qui-Gon out. Mekall emerged from the bedroom in time to watch the two leave. He thought Obi-Wan looked as if he were headed to his own execution.
On the way to the healers' wards, master and apprentice's usual positions were reversed. Qui-Gon walked behind his padawan, so certain was he that if he did not keep a constant eye on him Obi-Wan would run away again. For his part, Obi-Wan pulled up his hood and disappeared as deeply as was possible into the recesses of his robe.
(continued in part 15)