Author: Chaos
Rating: PG-13 (higher rating is for violence)
Disclaimer: Qui-gon and Obi-wan and the universe they come from, along with their vehicle and all their luggage belong to George Lucas exclusively. They are respectfully borrowed with no intent to profit thereby or infringe on the copyright thereof.



Section 8

�You ought to blend in fairly well with your new wardrobe, boys.� Debrah said over her shoulder. �Once I teach you two a little of the local slang, people will stop asking you what planet you come from.� She rounded the side of the car, her hand dropping to her pocket for the keys.

�Debrah.� Qui-gon�s voice was low, urgent and came just as her danger sense flared, but his warning was too late. She turned, keys in hand, as another voice, a strange voice, cut through the silence of the parking garage.

�Hold it right there! All of you freeze!� The man edged around the trunk of the car next to them, the sleek, lethal looking gun in his hands tracking back and forth to cover them all. The first sight of that small round hole staring at her jolted Debrah enough that she dropped the keys. Panic fluttered in her heart and beat against her chest, struggling to get free. Ruthlessly, she smashed it down. There was no time for it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Debrah felt all her muscles relax into a ready state. Her weight shifted to the balls of her feet and her knees bent ever so slightly. Master Chung would have been proud of how quickly she controlled herself, though he would have reprimanded her for losing such an excellent weapon of opportunity as a set of keys.

Now that she was paying attention, Debrah could feel the men behind her drop their bags of clothing, sensed it as they reached habitually for their lightsabres. But she had insisted that they leave the weapons at the house and could feel the flare of dismay that blossomed in each as they remembered. The two Jedi were on the other side of the car from the aggressor. They might as well have been on the other side of the world considering how poorly their telekinetic abilities performed in this galaxy.

It was up to her.

Debrah knew Qui-gon and Obi-wan could sense her anxiety despite her feeble attempts to hide it. She was a non-confrontational sort by nature and this little scenario wasn�t at all to her liking. She also knew that if she didn�t do something soon, they would, there was no way they could come around or over the car nearly fast enough to accomplish anything other than getting someone shot. She would have to do something soon.

Thanks to the Jedi and the exercises they had shown her, Debrah�s spatial awareness was at the highest pitch it had ever been since she had stopped her marital arts training to go away to college, so she sensed it the moment Qui-gon moved.

The man before her reacted instantly, swinging the gun toward the Jedi Master. Now or never. Debrah skipped forward, bringing the man into range even as the gun lined up on Qui-gon. Vaguely, the woman sensed more movement from behind her, but her concentration was on the target. Abruptly time seemed to slow and everything came into sharp focus. She could hear the gritty dust of the garage grinding under the feet of all four of them, smell the old oil and exhaust that stained the ground, could see the beads of sweat that had appeared on the agent�s forehead and the determination in his dark eyes. The black belt had never experienced that before when fighting, but then, she�d never before been fighting for a life, her own or anyone else�s. She saw his finger tighten on the trigger and fear momentarily sparked in her chest, but necessity, training, and concentration shunted it aside. Her foot was already in motion.

The top of Debrah�s tennis shoe connected solidly with the butt of the gun and a bullet exploded into the concrete ceiling over Obi-wan�s head. That was close. Too close. The thought fled quickly before the rush of battle input that streamed through her mind.

The gun tumbled though the air, bouncing off the roof of a car, out of the equation for the moment. She had to give Never, Never Land credit, their operative was quick on the uptake. His gun gone, he whipped around and caught her a glancing blow on the chin with an elbow. By the time she�d recovered he had a wicked looking knife in his hand. Debrah circled warily. When fighting against a knife, expect to get cut. Master Chan had warned her about that. The man�s eyes flicked past her shoulder. The Jedi must be moving, away I hope. A quick check killed that thought. Right Reimers. In the same situation, would you? The Area 51 agent must have been worried about them joining the fight before he�d taken care of her because he lunged suddenly, aiming low.

Instinct and muscle memory took over, her mind having no active part in her actions. Debrah�s body twisted to the left, away from the thrust, pivoting on her right heel as her right hand lanced out over his arm, fingers tight for the spear technique. At the same time her left hand came up in a semi-circular motion connecting with him at the wrist and deflecting his blade out of line with her body. The motion was perfect, the technique and timing superb. Her masters would have been proud.

Debrah saw the realization in his eyes, the instant it registered that he would miss. That she would not. Her mind made a vehement protest to the outcome her instincts and training had already declared, but at that very moment her arm pushed out with the final burst of thrust and her hips snapped straight. Debrah�s whole body sprang into a single line of force aimed at her opponent.

And time stopped completely.

As eternity dragged out across that split second, Debrah watched the light die in those deep brown eyes, saw the regret and anger before they faded into death, her hand buried to the knuckles in his throat.

Time collapsed back in on Debrah and the man�s body flopped lifelessly to the floor, the clattering of the knife across the cement echoing flatly through the parking lot. Gentle hands settled on her arms and pulled her away from the body and the spreading, dark stain, but she was barely aware of them. Her ears registered a low, murmured conversation behind her, but her mind refused to give meaning to the words. There was only the man and the look in those eyes.

Debrah stared down at her hands, the left clean, the right a bright crimson. There is meaning there. But she couldn�t get her mind to form coherent thoughts. She was pushed down into a sitting position and something was pulled across her hips and chest, but she ignored it. That man, he had a knife, a gun, a life. I�ve taken them all from him. Why? Why, why, why whywhywhywhywhywhywhy?????

Somewhere nearby a car engine started. Hmmm, sounds like Jinx. Breaks squealed and Debrah�s head bounced off something soft behind her. Again there were those words that hovered on the edge of her consciousness, a low, soothing voice with a familiar accent. It was coaxing her, asking her something, but . . . . Home. I wanna go home. A map flashed through her thoughts, the way home, the roads, the turns, the distances. The voice went away and left Debrah alone after that. Alone with those eyes and that horrible sensation of her hand thrusting through soft flesh and brittle cartilage.

Suddenly, from far away Debrah heard hysterical, incoherent screaming. Someone, somewhere was terribly frightened. I hope someone helps that poor girl, whoever she is. A gentle weight landed on her shoulder and then blackness claimed her and she fell into its soft, welcome embrace.

*******

�Is she going to be alright, Master?� Obi-wan glanced over his shoulder at the woman seated next to his teacher, then riveted his attention back on operating the strange vehicle. He�d never heard such terror in a human voice before and he was genuinely worried about their only friend on this world.

�I don�t know. She obviously has never had to fight before.�

�But she is so well trained, Master. How could she not have fought?�

�There is a vast difference between friendly, or even not so friendly sparring, and fighting for your life, Padawan. Remember what she said when we sparred? �The point of martial arts is not to have to use it.�� The Jedi Master gently brushed a lock of blond hair from Debrah�s face. �I do not think that she ever expected to have to use it, and certainly not to kill.�

�Well, I am grateful that she did use it, Master. That man would have killed one of us with that slug-thrower if she had not fought him.� The young man chanced another glance into the back of the car. �I don�t understand her reaction.�

�Obi-wan, do you remember the first time you took a life in defense of your own or another�s? Not just deflecting blaster bolts or the like, but actively sought to kill another being?�

�Yes, Master. How could I forget?� Bright blue eyes stared out the windshield at the road. �It was that Rodian bounty hunter at Ord Mantel. He was going to shoot you in the back while you fought those two illegally programmed droids he�d just bought.�

�And your reaction afterwards?�

There was a pause of embarrassment and dawning realization. �I vomited,� he responded quietly.

�Three times, as I recall.� Qui-gon remarked gently. �You killed him with your lightsabre. A clean, swift death and you were separated from it by the length of your weapon. That fight in the transport storage, it was quick and decisive, but it was not clean. She killed him with her bare hands, Padawan. There was no distance, no separation from the kill for her. We will have to careful with how we handle this.�

They drove on in silence, slowly following the directions the Jedi Master had pulled from their host�s mind. Obi-wan checked the strategically placed mirrors and then moved the car one lane to the right in preparation for a turn. Nothing looked familiar. �Are you sure you got the right directions from her mind, Master? She wasn�t very coherent at the time.�

�This is the route she mapped. Besides, we know of nowhere else that we can go.� Qui-gon reached out a hand and placed it on his student�s shoulder. �We will take her home. We will care for and help her, as she has cared for and helped us.�

*******

The darkness lifted briefly, incompletely. Debrah was in strong arms, safe arms and there was a sensation of movement. She heard Butch mewl an impatient demand to be pet. A door was opened and closed. The movement became up instead of just forward. Stairs she thought, a little disconnectedly. Shortly there after, the arms set her down and tried to leave. She protested with what strength she could muster, but it wasn�t much.

�Hush now. Sleep.� And darkness claimed her again.

*******

Screaming, she was screaming. That was Debrah�s first rational thought. She jerked bolt upright, her mouth still locked open, issuing those hideous sounds, and smacked her head against the bottom of the bunk above her. After that she collapsed back to the bed and was reduced to pathetic, gasping whimpers. Someone was instantly by her side. Strong arms surrounded her, pulling her against a broad chest, resting her head against a firm shoulder.

Leigh? Debrah�s tired mind asked quietly. Had her childhood protector returned from England? But no, this was not something her oldest brother would have done. Much as Leigh loved her, it just wasn�t in his nature to comfort in this way. No, he would have hunted down whatever it was that had done this to her and killed it, repeatedly. Too late. You�ve already done that.

�It�s alright. It�s alright. You are safe. It�s alright.� A gentle hand stroked her hair and Debrah was rocked back and forth, the slow rhythm calming her. �You are safe and we will keep you that way.� She clutched at the fabric under her hands, sobbing with mingled fear and relief. Something stirred and a comforting peace began to settle over her.

For the barest moment her stubborn streak flared up and Debrah resisted the solace. She knew that there was no such thing as an instant cure and didn�t want to have anything to do with it. However, she quickly realized that she was in no shape to refuse whatever help she could get, much as she loathed to admit it. The woman stopped pushing the peace away and let it seep into her mind and heart.

Debrah�s breathing calmed, her heart no longer raced with fear. Sniffling inelegantly, she blinked her eyes and opened them enough to see who it was that was holding her. Concerned blue eyes stared down into her own and as her mind sought details it picked up on the braid of hair now tickling at her nose.

Obi-wan.

Her comforter was a young man over seven years younger than herself. Debrah was too weary to be even mildly embarrassed by that. All she could be was grateful to the depths of her being that she had someone so sensitive nearby in her time of need. He�d known exactly what to do to help.

Debrah relaxed even farther into the offered peace and the warm embrace. It was so nice not to worry about anything for once. Not to have to get up for anything or anyone. At the moment her focus was nothing, absolutely nothing.

Soon, sleep returned to tempt her back to its inviting insulation. But there would be no escape there. Those eyes, those lifeless blank eyes would follow her there and stare and stare and stare and accuse her. Not the eyes! A whimper slipped from the woman�s throat and she began to shake again, her eyes wild and her heart surging. Adrenaline pumped through her veins with the new tide of fear that crested over her. How can I ever sleep again, knowing that those eyes will be there, waiting? How can I live with myself, knowing what I know, having done what I have done?

Debrah was so lost in her fear, so mired in panic that she didn�t even hear Obi-wan�s alarmed shout, nor Qui-gon�s swift reply. She was never going to get over this, was she? She would fear sleep and those eyes forever and ever until she went crazy and then no one would be able to help the Jedi get back where they belong and, and, and . . . .

//we are strong//

Qui-gon was kneeling before her, a steaming cup in his hands. �Here,� he urged softly. �Drink this.� Debrah complied unthinkingly, reaching for the cup, but her hands were shaking so badly that the Jedi had to help her hold it so that she didn�t spill the tea all over herself. When she had finished the tea they all just sat there for a while, Qui-gon crouched on the floor, Obi-wan sitting on the edge of the bed, and Debrah huddled in his arms.

�Debrah?� Qui-gon gently asked after a long silence. �What was that technique you used? I�ve seen most of your Tae Kwon Do and that did not look like it fit.�

�No,� was her hushed reply. �It was a move from some rapier and dagger training I did a few years ago. I used the Tae moves to replace the weapons I didn�t have.� Her green eyes squeezed shut. �Please, I don�t want to talk about it.�

�I think that you should. I think that�s the only way you are going to be able to get over this.� The Jedi Master urged. �You must know that it was in self-defense. That man gave you no choice.�

�That�s the whole point!� Debrah suddenly shouted. �There�s always a choice. Always!� Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. �And I chose to kill that man.� Her gaze dropped to her hands and she stared at them as if the blood was still there. �I killed him.�

�And what would he have done if you had not?� Obi-wan inquired from just above her head. �I think he would have killed at least one of us, maybe more. He certainly tried. It took both Qui-gon and myself to deflect that bullet enough that it wouldn�t hit anything.� The woman in his arms shook her head violently, denying his words.

�No, I killed him.�

�Sometimes there is no other way to stop bad men.� The young man laid his cheek against the side of her head and spoke softly into her ear. �I remember the first time I had to take a life. It was the most horrible thing I have ever had to do. But that being would have killed Qui-gon and then me and then anyone else who got in his way if I hadn�t stopped him.�

Silent tears were streaming down Debrah�s cheeks. �Those eyes.� Her whole body trembled at the memory. �He�s still staring at me with those eyes. I watched as the light in them went out.� Her own haunted orbs turned a frightened, tear damp gaze on him. �I saw it, Obi-wan. How can I forget that?�

�Don�t forget that you killed him. Life is too precious to take lightly. But, you need to understand the necessity of what you did, of the action you took, and come to terms with it.� The silence drew out and the Jedi, Master and Apprentice, reached through the Force to make her feel their reassurance and support.

As the two minds touched her�s, the men felt a curious difference. Qui-gon probed deeper, but he was not familiar enough with her mind to know exactly what had changed. It almost felt like a polarization of her personality. Not unexpected, considering what she had been through.

�I think you should try and get some more sleep, Debrah.� Qui-gon suggested.

�No!� she jolted in Obi�s arms at the very thought. �No, he�ll be staring at me and staring and staring.� She began to cry hysterically.

//we are strong//

//i will protect you//

�I will help keep your dreams untroubled.� The Jedi told her firmly and scooped Debrah up in his arms and carried her into the master bedroom. He lay her in the middle of the bed and pulled the covers up over her, then sat down on the edge.

�I will stay right here with you till you awake and see to it that your sleep is calm.� He softly stroked her hair, his face gentle and caring. Peripherally, she could feel a vague movement of the Force. �Sleep now.� Debrah couldn�t imagine how he would be able to coax her to sleep, but it was done before the thought had even been fully realized. The master settled himself next to her and prepared to stay awake the whole night through.

Obi-wan checked on them several times over the course of the night. Each time Qui-gon had looked up at him from the bed and given him a reassuring smile. The last time he went in and found that his master had fallen asleep as well. The older man had one arm around Debrah�s shoulders, his other hand resting gently on top of her head. Both looked calm and peaceful so the young man decided not to wake either of them.

He had barely turned to leave when Debrah made a soft whimpering noise. The Padawan moved immediately to the bedside and reached out a hand to ease her dreams as his master would have had he been awake. He reached out with the Force to sense what was wrong, but even as he began to touch the budding nightmare, it was pulled away and she relaxed again. Obi-wan shrugged to himself. Perhaps his master wasn�t really asleep after all, but just dozing or in a light trance. Either way, all was well so he returned to his own bed for the night.




Section 9