Master Apprentice
Archive
|
|
|||
(continued from part 14)
Evin Sollas was ten years older than Obi-Wan with short brown hair and engaging dark eyes. He began to greet Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with what was for him a natural smile, but it evaporated as a result of the pall the two created merely by entering his office.
"It's good to see you again, Qui-Gon," Sollas began. He found it far easier than he should have to pick up the Jedi master's guilt and sorrow, even mingled as it was with an unexpected air of disappointment. Some things were beyond the control of even Qui-Gon Jinn. Sollas wondered whether Qui-Gon's disappointment was with his padawan or himself.
"Obi-Wan, it's good to see you," the healer continued. "How have you been feeling?"
Obi-Wan looked at his master; Qui-Gon looked only at Sollas. Sollas' eyes went from padawan to master and back to the padawan. He did not need to hear Obi-Wan's answer. Looking at him told the story. The dark circles under Obi-Wan's eyes went almost to his cheekbones. He was pale, drawn and underweight. It did not require a healer to diagnose him as ill. Sollas only marveled that any of his colleagues had seen fit to release Obi-Wan earlier in the week.
"The transition to being back has been more difficult than I was anticipating," Obi-Wan said at last.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to help?"
"To help?" Obi-Wan asked, as if the concept was new to him.
"Yes."
When Obi-Wan did not come up with any suggestions, Sollas tried another tack.
"Qui-Gon tells me you've been having some nightmares."
"Bad dreams. I'm dealing with them."
"I'm sure, but sometimes it helps to talk with someone -"
"I'll make a psych healer's appointment. If my master has not already done so for me."
Qui-Gon's focus remained on Sollas.
"Of course." Sollas felt apologetic simply for being present. "I don't want to infringe."
"I apologize, Knight Sollas," Obi-Wan deflected his own belligerence. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. I was unable to sleep last night and today has been . . . trying."
"Not at all, Obi-Wan," the healer said, concealing a small exhalation of relief. "I'll tell you what, let's start with the checkup and see where it takes us."
Sollas stood and led Obi-Wan into an examination room where healers'-wing whites were laid out on an exam table.
"Why don't you go ahead and change. I'll be back in a minute."
He closed the door behind Obi-Wan and addressed Qui-Gon. "Perhaps he would be more comfortable speaking with me in private."
"If you think that will accomplish anything." Qui-Gon sounded uncharacteristically discouraged. "I'm certainly not getting anywhere with him."
"I'll call you when we're through with the physical."
Qui-Gon thanked the healer and left, hoping the emotional remove of speaking with Sollas might enable Obi-Wan to open up.
Obi-Wan was all but vibrating with barely suppressed anger. The barriers between himself the world were worn so thin he felt as if they might give way at any time.
Sollas could not recall ever encountering a Jedi so walled off. It was as if Obi-Wan was holding too much in and shielding too much out at one and the same time. His entire Force aura was off; it read nothing like it had any time they had met previously.
Every word that Sollas spoke seemed to be adding to the strain on Obi-Wan. He gave Obi-Wan a complete physical while trying to sound him out, but it was more like trying to get a sound out of him. Obi-Wan could not bring himself to answer Sollas' questions. He knew he should, but the words stuck in his throat. Oh, get it over with, he thought. It's not as if the outcome of this isn't preordained.
When he had finished with the exam, Sollas directed Obi-Wan to a different waiting room, instructing him to change back into his clothes while the computer correlated the data from his examination. To give Obi-Wan one more chance to talk, Sollas said he would call Qui-Gon and then they would all sit down together to go over the test results. Unless Obi-Wan had any objections. Obi-Wan did not.
Sollas returned to his desk resignedly. He had anticipated helping Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan transition to their psych healer. Many Jedi had to overcome feelings of chastisement when referred to one. There was often a sense that they should have been able to deal with their emotional problems themselves, through the usual methods. This was not the typical hesitation. It was something else altogether. Which was what he intended to tell Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan did not dress. What would be the point? It was not as if he would be let out of the healers' wing. He knew what the results of the tests would be. He was not eating or exercising. He could not sleep or meditate. He was a wreck. Sollas was only stalling him.
It was why they had been so eager to get him here. Now that they had accomplished what they had been trying to since he had gotten back to the Temple, they were not going to allow him to leave. He was trapped. There was nowhere left to go. Even if he had anywhere to run, he had no way to get there. Without clearance he could never get a ship . . .
Yes, he could. The Tavin. Mekall's ship. Ready and able.
All he needed was Mekall.
Mekall paced past an ashtray already filling up with half-smoked cheroots, ignoring another one burning in his hand.
Despite what he had said to Obi-Wan, he had a bad feeling about what was going on at the healers, enough so that he was becoming inclined to agree with Obi-Wan in principle. Maybe it was time to take him away from this place, this planet, the torture that was the Jedi.
But that's the whole problem, isn't it? The Jedi. Because the Jedi is Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan is the Jedi; because being a Jedi is essential to Obi-Wan's nature.
That's why you brought him here. Remember? The inescapable conundrum of this farce they were acting out. Was there any way to save Obi-Wan from himself and save him from the Jedi as well?
Evidence pointed to the contrary. In the days they had been at the Temple, no one had been able to help Obi-Wan. By the same token, Obi-Wan had not let himself be helped. The miserable truth of it seemed to be that, at this point, all parties involved were watching and waiting; watching Obi-Wan work himself to an edge from which he could not return.
It was a sickening thought. Mekall felt a deep-seated need to lash out. He wished he was home where he could punch a wall.
Dammit to all the hells, what was he supposed to do? What could he do that a Temple full of Jedi could not? But that was not really the issue, was it? What was really bothering him? What had he just done?
With the state Obi-Wan was in, he was seeing enemies everywhere. At the limit of his endurance, he had sought Mekall. No matter what words came out of his mouth once they were together, Obi-Wan had left his master and his assigned duty and come back to their bed, to Mekall, for protection.
And what did I do? Fall back to sleep and then deliver him to his foes, that's what. Brilliant strategy, Mekall. Way to show him you'll be there when he needs you.
I should have insisted on going with them, he decided. As he got up to do so, the door engaged. He did not conceal his unease at seeing Obi-Wan.
"I didn't expect you."
"I didn't think I'd get here," Obi-Wan said somewhat breathlessly. He went directly through to the bedroom without pausing.
"What now?" Mekall asked as he followed Obi-Wan into the other room. Obi-Wan took off his robe, tossed it on the bed and went to the closet. He withdrew a few items of clothing, jamming them into a travel bag.
"Depends," Obi-Wan said. "Are you going to help me?"
"Depends," Mekall volleyed. "What've you got in mind?"
Obi-Wan stopped long enough to give him a look that let him know he was being an imbecile. "A quick game of sabaac," he said sarcastically. "What does it look like? What did I ask you to help me do before? I'm leaving."
"You're going."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Anywhere that's not Coruscant. Coming? Or do you plan to apply to be readmitted to the order?" Obi-Wan sniped, from inside his closet.
"Nice talk," Mekall said as Obi-Wan came up for air holding his civilian boots. He put them in the bag.
"You're the one who wanted -" Obi-Wan edited himself and walked to his bureau. "I know what's going to happen and I won't be put in another cage," he said as he began opening drawers.
"You don't remember that."
"Which makes it better?" Obi-Wan asked, returning to the bag to put underclothing in it. "Besides, you don't know what I do or don't retain at this point."
"Well, I wouldn't, would I?" Mekall snapped. "I haven't had any sustained access to you in days."
"I can't," Obi-Wan told him, actually looking contrite. "Not now. It's too . . . risky. I can't let you have - Let them have - Blast it, Mekall, what do you want from me? Do I look like a man with a lot of options?"
"You look like a little boy running away from home."
"I'm not the little boy who ran away."
Mekall felt the cut of the remark.
Obi-Wan looked sorry again. "Please don't make me make this choice," he pleaded. "Get me, get us, out of here. You've wanted to for days. I know it. Once we're on our own again, I'll give you all the access you can stand."
"Obi-Wan -"
"I won't be subjected to this tyranny of moral rectitude any longer." Obi-Wan's mood swung back to pique. "I should think you'd feel the same." "Normally I would," Mekall hedged.
"But?" Obi-Wan challenged, as he took a look around the room.
But, if you could hear yourself, Mekall thought. "This is different," he said.
"How?" Obi-Wan asked as he went to the cabinet in the corner. "You said you wanted to help me. Are you going to or not?"
"Did you go to the healers? What did they say? Where's your master?"
"Where's your master?" Obi-Wan mimicked in a whiny voice, coming back to put several small items into the satchel. "Who's the padawan here?" he jeered, going back toward the closet once more. "Your faith in me is touching as well. Look, I don't need a debriefing, I need . . ."
He needs. What does he know what he needs? Mekall wondered. Oh, wait, I know what he needs. "If you won't go with me," Obi-Wan finished, "then let me borrow your ship."
He needs my ship. "Borrow in the take it and keep it sense of the word," Mekall elaborated.
"I don't have time for a semantics debate. They'll be here any -"
"If you left under these circumstances, you couldn't come back," Mekall said.
Obi-Wan was sorting through things on the floor of the closet. "Good," came his muffled reply.
"Obi-Wan. Look at yourself. Look at what you're doing. You're not -"
"You look at yourself." Obi-Wan found what he sought and backed out of the closet. He stood, casually tossing Mekall the lightsaber from Larral.
Mekall did not let it drop, but he held it as though it carried a disease. "What is this doing here? I thought it was on the - What would you have me do?"
"What do you want to do?"
Their eyes clashed, sharp as two saber blades. Mekall looked away first. He walked over to his drawer and put the lightsaber hilt away with his belongings. "I'm not giving you the Tavin."
"You said you loved me."
"I do love you," Mekall declared, going to him. "How can you ask me that after what we've been through? What we've had to - I thought you, and I, had decided - Obi-Wan, if nothing else, can you imagine any other reason I would have come back to this wretched place?"
Obi-Wan let Mekall come right up to him as he spoke. They were nearly chest to chest. He had thought that if he showed Mekall his mind was made up and clear on the subject, Mekall would go along with his plan. That had not worked. Perhaps there was another way to sway him. "If you loved me," Obi-Wan said, "you would save me."
Save me, Mekall heard. His heart clenched and his mind was wont to obey it. He moved in, his lips a hair's breadth from Obi-Wan's.
"Save me," Obi-Wan whispered, taking Mekall's lips with his, kissing him for everything he was worth.
Yes, every muscle from the top of Mekall's head to his groin responded. Yes.
Restraint overridden by desperation, Obi-Wan had opened another portion of their bond. Now he sent a channel of Force into Mekall's mind, to ensnare Mekall's will in his own.
Mekall went rigid, backed off a fraction and opened eyes gone arctic. "Where's your master?" he asked, voice as cold as his eyes.
Obi-Wan walked away, drawing suddenly and completely back into himself. Mekall felt as if someone had kicked him full force in the knees and the gut simultaneously.
"You . . . and Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan accused. "This is what you've wanted the whole time. To lay me open, put me on display, stretched out and pinned down for all to see like some degenerated, back-alley - I'm sure it'll be quite popular. View the senior padawan who couldn't prevent himself from being violated like the local virgin. Come one, come all. Enjoy the show."
"Do you hear what you're saying?" Mekall took a step toward him.
Dark Force swirled between them. Mekall was lifted off his feet and slammed backward into the wall. His head hit solidly, his vision dimmed and he slumped to the floor. He tried to stand, but the room tilted at a sickening angle.
When his vision cleared, Obi-Wan was beside him. Mekall thought he might have returned to his senses. Instead, Obi-Wan backhanded him as hard as he could. Mekall's head slammed into the wall again.
Obi-Wan moved in to hit him a third time. Mekall raised his arm to block the blow. Obi-Wan took hold of his neck instead. Mekall tried to push himself up, succeeded in getting his legs under him and toppled Obi-Wan over onto his back. He attempted to use the Force to loosen Obi-Wan's hands, but it was elusive. He could not seem to organize any effective resistance.
Obi-Wan did not let go of his throat as he rolled them back over to give himself the advantage.
"Obi-Wan," Mekall gasped, the room starting to grey. Down to last-ditch measures, he tried raising up enough to butt Obi-Wan with his head but he could not get sufficient traction. Obi-Wan tightened his grip and he did not let go until Mekall had stopped moving.
Although he had no idea how long Sollas might be with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon was disinclined to return to the Archives. In a world where Obi-Wan was behaving sanely, he would be standing next to him mentally holding his hand, guiding him through the no-doubt difficult preliminaries. Barring that, Qui-Gon's strongest wish was to hover outside the healer's examination chamber door eavesdropping. Clearly it was time to order his thoughts. He went to the Gardens to meditate. As he was finishing, his comlink signaled.
"Jinn."
"Master Jinn." It was Sollas. "Is your padawan -"
Qui-Gon was nearly knocked to the ground by an overwhelming flood of emotion, blind rage, but with focused, deadly intent. It took some minutes for him to come back to himself. When he did, it was to the sound of his own name.
The comlink. He had answered Sollas' call.
" -ter Jinn? Master Jinn? Can you hear me?"
"I'm here."
"Do you need help?"
"No, thank you." He wanted to ask if something had happened to Obi-Wan, but for a reason he could not put his finger on, chose to be circumspect. "Are you ready for me to rejoin you and Obi-Wan?"
"Obi-Wan's gone. After I'd examined him - he was extremely reticent the entire time - I sent him to dress while I went to my office. I wanted to wait for the system to correlate the results of his tests before I called you. When you were unable to answer me, I went back to the exam room, but he's not there. I've tried to com him. He doesn't answer."
"I'll find him."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I . . . think not. Thank you, Evin. For your efforts."
Qui-Gon tracked Obi-Wan's Force signature to their rooms and set out for them with as much decorum as possible given his haste. While he walked, he attempted to use the training bond to discover whom or what had caused the explosion in his head. Although the communication had been through the master-apprentice bond, he could not believe it had been Obi-Wan. Even with his recent unusual behavior, there was nothing to indicate to Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan was capable of an act of such violence.
Mekall? He was more than capable. Was it possible the soul bond had overrun its boundaries and bled into the apprentice's tie to his master? Or had some outside entity infringed upon one compromised bond or the other?
Banishing the outrage and apprehension that accompanied those possibilities, Qui-Gon kept trying to connect with Obi-Wan. The longer he could not, the more a sickening dread began to permeate every thought. Qui-Gon wanted to create a binding shield around their link - if Obi-Wan or Mekall's shields were collapsing, it could affect the entire Temple - but he could not get a solid enough hold on the master-apprentice bond to use it to encompass the soul bond. Something was resisting him and growing stronger.
Though his concentration intensified as the lift made its tortuously slow descent, Qui-Gon found himself progressively walled off from the bond until his isolation was all but complete. A short lifetime passed between the turbolift settling into place on their level and the door opening.
He expected to be called upon to overpower Mekall or to rescue Obi-Wan or both of them. He did not expect to see Obi-Wan's satchel by the door or to be met by Mace Windu. Another Jedi, one he did not know, stood across the common room, his attention directed at the balcony. Following his line of sight, Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of off-white tunics and chestnut hair on the other side of the balcony door.
He's unharmed, Qui-Gon thought with tremendous relief.
"It's contained," Mace informed him bleakly. "It was Obi-Wan."
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon managed. Contained? he thought. That mad rage could not have been Obi-Wan. "It was not Mekall?"
"No," Mace stated. "The outburst was from your padawan." The gaze Mace leveled at him was full of reproach.
It could not have been Obi-Wan, that mania, that fury. It could not, Qui-Gon thought. He asked: "What can I do?"
"The situation is in hand."
In hand. Qui-Gon considered Mace's words. He, or he and the other knight, must have created some sort of containment field around Obi-Wan. That was why he had not been able to.
Qui-Gon moved to go out to the patio. Mace intercepted him.
"We need more time to ensure that our safeguards over Obi-Wan are as strong they need to be."
"But . . . Mace, he's -"
"Qui-Gon, understand what I'm telling you."
"I don't. I honestly don't. I wish I could say I did."
"You know I would not ask this of you if it wasn't essential."
It took a few seconds before Qui-Gon was able to say, "Because it's you asking, Mace." If he had not seen his padawan with his own eyes, he would not have capitulated. As he trusted Mace, he was prepared to compromise, temporarily. And there was an equally pressing matter at hand. "Where is Mekall?"
"We only just arrived," Mace replied. "Our primary objective was damage control. There has not been time -"
Qui-Gon reached into the Force. Mekall remained heavily shielded. His shields being intact was further evidence to support Mace's incredible pronouncement.
Qui-Gon started for Obi-Wan's bedroom. Mace called after him. Qui-Gon ignored it. He was astonished that Mace had not seen fit to check on Mekall. If that violence had come from Obi-Wan, it did not bode well for his bondmate.
Obi-Wan's bedroom door was open. Mekall was on the floor. His eyes were closed. Qui-Gon could not tell if he was breathing. There was blood at his hairline, in his hair and a trickle of it by his mouth.
Qui-Gon knelt beside him. He had a pulse, thank the Force.
After checking for critical injury and lifting Mekall onto the bed, Qui-Gon removed his robe. As he placed it atop Obi-Wan's, he endeavored to prepare himself for what he might be about to hear and sat on the bed beside Mekall.
He marked the dark abrasion across Mekall's cheek and ten deep bruises on his throat. All too credible testament to the unthinkable.
Mekall stirred and, before Qui-Gon could react, jumped to his feet in a defensive stance. Seeing it was Qui-Gon, he did not attack. Instead, he wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and steadied his breathing. His mouth opened and closed; no words came out.
"Are you able to speak?" Qui-Gon inquired, to discern if the inability was a medical problem.
"Yes," Mekall croaked.
"Do you need to see a -"
"Stop."
"I was only -"
"Don't. Don't talk. Just," Mekall held up his hand in a 'halt' gesture.
Qui-Gon twisted his body to face Mekall more directly.
Mekall jumped. "Stay away from me," he said, backing further.
Qui-Gon did as he requested.
"Stay away."
"I am nowhere near you," Qui-Gon pointed out, getting to his feet.
"Keep it that way."
"I will," Qui-Gon said, "but your position is somewhat tenuous." He dipped his chin toward the bed. "You may want to come down from there."
Mekall looked down as if the bed had spontaneously appeared beneath him, walked to the edge and got off. "Tenuous," he muttered under his breath as he walked across the room to get away from Qui-Gon. "How would you know. You picked a fine time to start telling me what's tenuous."
"Mekall, what happened?"
When Mekall turned around, Qui-Gon was surprised by the despair on his face. From Mekall's words, he had expected the usual indignation.
Qui-Gon pushed a host of superfluous questions aside. Mekall's bruised throat left little room for interpretation and no time for anything other than direct answers.
"Obi-Wan did this to you?"
"Yes."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm not dead."
"No, you're not." Mekall did have a way of getting to the point of a matter. "Though that does not answer my question. Mekall?"
Qui-Gon could see in Mekall's face that he was replaying what had happened. He could not afford to have Mekall go into shock. He must know everything there was to know as soon as he could.
"Mekall, I need you to be as clear and concise as possible. What exactly occurred?"
Mekall made a visible attempt to collect himself. "He was packing. He said he was going to leave. I'd already told him . . . I wouldn't go with him. He was irrational. He'd brought -"
Should I tell him about the saber? Mekall asked himself. He decided against it. His position was bad enough without them thinking he had entered the Jedi Temple with an unauthorized laser sword.
"He'd brought?" Qui-Gon prompted him.
"He was packing," Mekall repeated. "He said he needed my ship. He was prepared to go without me. Then he tried . . . to make me go with him. I wouldn't . . ."
Mekall went to the mirror. His head shook in negation of what he saw. His hand went to his neck.
"It's all right," Qui-Gon comforted him.
"It's all right?" Mekall responded. "Did you say it's all right? Do I look all right to you? Does this? Were we . . . I mean he was . . . Do you know what he just - Was it just? I mean, is it -"
"I took Obi-Wan to the healer less than two hours ago," Qui-Gon answered.
"What did the healer say?"
"Sollas gave Obi-Wan a variety of tests. Obi-Wan would not confide in him. He left when Sollas went to com me."
"To come back here."
"Evidently."
"Evidently? "
"All right, yes."
"Where is he? What does he say?"
"I have not spoken to him yet."
"You haven't seen him?"
"I have seen him. I've not been able to speak with him."
"Why not?"
"He is being attended to."
"In Standard, please."
"Mace Windu is outside."
"Windu," Mekall remarked. "And after he's seen to Obi-Wan, will he escort me out of the Temple or do I go directly to Jedi jail?"
"Mekall, you've done nothing wrong."
Mekall could not hold in a truncated mirthless laugh.
"If you do not require my aid, I will see to Obi-Wan."
The other man did not respond.
"Mekall, do you require my assistance?" Qui-Gon reiterated. "Is there something you need? Something I can do for you?"
"Like what?" Mekall asked in all earnestness.
"Do you want to see a healer?" Qui-Gon offered.
"Not on your - No, thank you," Mekall rephrased it, then went silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he sounded nothing like himself. "He . . . he was completely out of control. I would never have thought - I never would've, would've thought he was capable of . . ." He spoke Qui-Gon's own mind.
Qui-Gon felt sympathy for him and it showed.
"Save your pity for someone who can use it," Mekall said.
Mekall's refusal confirmed that Qui-Gon's compassion was far from misplaced. Qui-Gon chose not to press the issue. He simply picked up his robe and headed for the door.
"You may want to take your lightsaber," Mekall cautioned as Qui-Gon left.
Qui-Gon did not know what he expected when he spoke with Obi-Wan. Finding out would require getting past Mace Windu.
Mace was using the com at Qui-Gon's desk. He ended his call and approached as Qui-Gon hung up his cloak.
"How is he?" Mace asked.
"Shaken," Qui-Gon replied.
"What did he say?"
Qui-Gon did not want to share what Mekall had said.
"Qui?" Mace probed.
"Mace, I cannot put what Mekall told me into context until I have spoken with Obi-Wan."
"That isn't advisable, Master Jinn," the other Jedi asserted as he came toward them.
"Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Mace said, "this is Knight Keyden Zhy. He's Shalonn Vittran."
Qui-Gon could not completely conceal his astonishment. The Shalonn Vittran were a little known sect within the order, light side Jedi who were able to command and control the dark.
"I have isolated Kenobi environmentally as well as emotionally with good reason," Zhy explained.
He sized Qui-Gon up openly as he spoke. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to do the same. Zhy's uniform tunics were minimalist. His hair was dark brown, cut very short. His eyes were even darker and unequivocally critical in their open assessment of Qui-Gon. His face was handsome, but the intensity of his manner made him off-putting.
"You are not prepared for what you're going to find," Zhy continued.
"Will I not find my padawan?"
"Not necessarily."
"What are you implying?"
"I imply nothing, Master Jinn. We must be specific and direct."
"I could not agree more."
"It's quite probable Kenobi has -"
"If the next word out of your mouth is turned, Knight Zhy, I invite you to leave now. You can't help Obi-Wan if you think -"
"It's not what I think, Master Jinn. I have felt -"
"Admittedly a most disturbing incident, as did Mekall, and I and I hope not too many others within the Temple, but -"
"No, Master Jinn, I cannot agree to -"
"Gentlemen," Mace interrupted their dispute, "there is little point in argument. Qui-Gon," he entreated his friend, seeking to bank the thinly restrained fire in him. "You must hear what Knight Zhy is saying. That may not be the Obi-Wan you know. It's dangerous to go to him now."
Qui-Gon steadied himself, meeting Mace's caution and Zhy's steeliness with deliberate calm. "Yet it is what I must do."
Mace met Qui-Gon's gaze and held it for a full minute before he made his decision. "Then you'll need access. Keyden," he addressed the knight.
"As you say, Master Windu," Zhy conceded, releasing his doubts into the Force.
Qui-Gon knew of few Jedi who would choose conflict with Mace Windu. In fact, he had been counting on it. Sensing an opening of sorts in the master-apprentice bond, he thanked Mace with a tight nod and stepped around the pair.
"You'll find him subdued," Zhy informed his departing back. "It's the effect of the bond drape."
(continued in part 16)