“Master Jinn!” a voice cried behind him, and Qui-Gon spun around to see Gar Abrisil moving swiftly into the chamber.

Both Jedi felt the surge pass through the Force, the warning of an imminent aftershock. “The children need to get out of here! The roof’s not going to hold up!” Gar shouted, his thin face pale as the crystal-lined floor tiles.

“Bel-San is trapped! He’s injured. Can you get the children out?” Qui-Gon yelled back, hearing panic seep into his voice.

Gar made his way carefully around the rubble, followed by another Jedi Master. Qui-Gon could feel the calming Force-waves the two Jedi sent out over the children as they approached the group of huddled bodies.

“It’s going to be all right,” Qui-Gon soothed, trying to make his voice as serene as possible under the circumstances. “Children, you need to follow Master Abrisil right now and follow his every direction.” He found Obi-Wan’s round-eyed stare, and he gave him the kindest look he could muster. “Stay in pairs, and stay with the Masters. Do you understand?”

Reluctantly, twenty-two heads bobbed in the affirmative. Gar began leading them out the far door, and Qui-Gon guessed they were heading towards the beach. At this point, anywhere was safer than being inside the Temple. Before Gar left the chamber, he spoke to Qui-Gon through the Force, and his voice was grave.

:You don’t have much time. The ceiling won’t hold much longer; don’t be a hero if you can’t get him out.:

Qui-Gon felt a flare of anger surge in him as he ran to Bel-San’s side. :We’ll both be out in a moment.:

Before he even knelt by the other Jedi’s side, he could sense pain radiating from Bel-San’s temple where the gash bled freely. Quickly taking a breath to calm himself, Qui-Gon focused his will with the Force, and used the connection to begin lifting the chunk of ceiling that pinned Bel-San to the floor. Holding tight to the ceiling piece, he gritted his teeth in resolve as the great mass of rubble started to float and move away from the unconscious Jedi. He could hear his old Master’s voice in his head as he carefully directed the chunk to a safe location: “control, you must learn control!” Silently thanking Yoda for the countless hours he’d spent moving rocks as a Padawan, he gingerly released his hold on the piece of ceiling, and it came to rest with a gentle thud on the debris-strewn floor.

The moment he let go from the rubble, he felt a great tremble in the Force. Qui-Gon swore in frustration; an aftershock would follow and bring the Temple down around his ears if he didn’t get them both out. Although he knew better than to move Bel-San with the injuries he’d sustained, he had no choice. In one swift movement, he gently picked up the limp form of his friend and put him over a broad shoulder. His senses heightened, he relied on the Force to direct him out of the Temple.

As the ground shook violently beneath his feet, Qui-Gon struggled to maintain his footing without dropping Bel-San. As he ran as best he could through the shaking corridors of the falling Temple, he felt tiny bits of ceiling tile strike his face. “Hold on, Bel-San,” he grunted, forcing his legs to pump harder and faster. “We’re almost out.”

Several moments later, Qui-Gon finally saw the opening he was looking for; a rounded archway that had not yet toppled at the end of the hall offered a view out towards the expanse of beach. As soon as they passed through it, they could rejoin the children and treat Bel-San’s wounds. Qui-Gon kept his gaze focused on the archway, willing his body towards the opening.

Up ahead, he saw a shadow dart through the archway, and it took him a second to realize a figure was running towards him. “Gar?” Qui-Gon called, choking on the dust-filled air that only grew worse as more of the ceiling started to fall.

“Master Qui-Gon!”

Qui-Gon felt his heart slam into his ribs when he realized who the figure was. “Obi-Wan! Get out of here! Now!” he barked, fighting to keep his footing as the floor gave a violent shake.

The path to the archway was strewn with chunks of ceiling and broken furniture, and Qui-Gon did his best to maneuver around the obstacles while balancing Bel-San. Suddenly the Temple gave a great moan as if it was giving birth, and Qui-Gon watched in horror as the archway’s foundation began to crack and sway.

“Obi-Wan!” he screamed, racing towards the boy. “Get back! It’s going to collapse!”

Qui-Gon heard the child cry out in terror, and he reached down and pulled Obi-Wan roughly away from the opening. “Get down!” he ordered, and he pushed the child’s body against Bel-San’s slack form on the ground. Using his own body as a shield, he threw himself over the two of them.

The ceiling shuddered violently, and Qui-Gon reached out with all of his will to the Force, constructing a forcefield around them. As large pieces of ceiling came into contact with his shield, he closed his eyes and focused on protecting Bel-San and Obi-Wan. Trying to ignore the slashes of pain that ripped through his consciousness, he finally felt a calm come over the Force, and he opened one eye. Several long moments passed before he realized the earthquake was over. Looking over towards the exit, he saw large pieces of ceiling and rubble blocking their path. They were trapped inside.

With a thought, he gratefully released his hold on the forcefield around them. Still unable to breathe, he moved off of the two bodies and collapsed on the floor, struggling to get air into his lungs. It’s over, he thought to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. Bel-San. Obi-Wan. Help them.

Opening his eyes again, he saw a pair of tear-filled blue eyes looking down on him. Qui-Gon sat up slowly, holding a hand to his throbbing temples. “Obi-Wan...are you all right?”

The boy trembled, his entire signature radiating barely-contained terror and shame. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” he repeated, already crying. “I’m so sorry...”

Qui-Gon pulled the child close for a moment, running a hand over his head. Although every fiber in his being wanted to berate the boy for leaving the group and disobeying orders, the relief he felt at seeing Obi-Wan unharmed won over his emotions for the moment. The time for discipline would come later. “It’s all right, Obi-Wan.” he murmured, feeling the boy sob against his shoulder. “We’re safe now. I need to check Bel-San now; just sit here and be quiet, all right? Can you be brave for me?”

Obi-Wan nodded, still shaking, but sat obediently on the floor. Qui-Gon got to his feet unsteadily and moved to Bel-San’s side. He placed a hand lightly on his friend’s forehead, and tentatively reached out with the Force to ascertain the depth of Bel-San’s injuries. The response ripped through his already frazzled senses. Pulling away his hand, the Jedi Master quelled the urge to scream in frustration. The ceiling chunk had broken Bel-San’s left leg, and there was a good chance he had some broken ribs as well. Yet even more worrisome was the gash on his temple; Qui-Gon had no way of knowing how much damage had been inflicted, and although he knew he could awaken Bel-San with a Force-wave, there was a sizable chance he could do more harm demanding his friend’s weakened system to enter into consciousness.

Driving himself to refocus his inner calm, Qui-Gon attempted to soothe his shredded connection with the Force. The forcefield had sapped him of most of his energy, but he knew that he had to at least perform some basic healing on Bel-San’s wounds if his friend was to have any hope of surviving. Bel-San’s cold skin was pale in the dim lighting of the corridor, and his breathing came in ragged gasps. Feeling along Bel-San’s carotid artery, Qui-Gon frowned when he felt the weak pulse throbbing there. He needed to get Bel-San out of the Temple and with a Healer, but until Gar and the others returned to help unblock the opening, he was Bel-San’s best hope for surviving.

Placing a hand on Bel-San’s chest, he used the Force to discourage the Jedi’s pain receptors, trying to assuage the discomfort he felt emanating from Bel-San’s signature. The tight lines around his friend’s eyes seemed to lessen as he applied his limited healing knowledge, and Qui-Gon felt Bel-San’s breathing become less strained. Qui-Gon nodded to himself, thankful that at least he could do something for Bel-San’s pain. Despite the raging headache that buzzed inside his own head, Qui-Gon moved his hand to Bel-San’s temple, attempting to draw on the Force to promote healing for the gaping wound that spilled blood down his friend’s cheek. As Qui-Gon reached out, he felt himself fumbling, and he gasped with pain. Refusing to give in, he tried again, but the effort seared his consciousness, and he stifled a groan.

“Master Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan’s voice came quietly as Qui-Gon fell back on his knees, cradling his head.

He couldn’t answer the boy; the pain in his head reverberated like an echo. He should have known better; even a Jedi Master couldn’t tap the Force indefinitely without a calm center, and Qui-Gon’s senses were far past soothing, and now he was suffering the backlash.

A pair of small hands suddenly found his own, and Qui-Gon looked up to see Obi-Wan standing in front of him. “How can I help, Master Qui-Gon?” the boy asked, his elfin face seeming to contain wisdom far beyond his five years.

Qui-Gon released a ragged breath, dropping his hands into his lap. “I can’t do any more for Bel-San.” He looked away from the penetrating gaze of the child. “I don’t have any strength left to help him.”

The small boy sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him, the set of his mouth serious. “You can use mine.”

Qui-Gon shook his head as soon as the words came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. “No,” he said sharply. “You’re far too young; you might get hurt. Even Jedi Masters can get hurt sharing power like that.”

The boy stared up at him resolutely. “It’s my fault you didn’t get out. I know it. If I hadn’t come back for you and I hadn’t distracted you,” he said quietly, his eyes filling with tears, “Bel-San would be out and be helped and now he’s going to die and it’s all my fault and you’re going to hate me forever.”

Qui-Gon sighed, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. “There is nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. And it’s not your fault, Obi-Wan.” the Jedi’s voice was quiet, but he knew he spoke the truth. “The archway was going to collapse regardless.” He reached over and touched the child’s wet cheek. “It’s not your fault we didn’t get out.”

Obi-Wan looked down at Bel-San’s wound and the looked back at Qui-Gon. “He needs his cut healed. Can you fix it?”

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon said sadly, “I can’t right now. We need to find something to bandage it with. . .”

Obi-Wan reached out with both hands and grasped Qui-Gon’s as best he could. “I saw Master Rhys and Master Delos share once. You need to heal him. Master Rhys said Jedi can share strength, so use mine.”

Qui-Gon’s mind raced. It would be folly to try to share power with a mere child, but it could be hours before Bel-San could get to a Healer. And by then. . .Bel-San might be past helping. He felt his heart ache with the decision he faced: endanger Obi-Wan in order to help Bel-San, or endanger Bel-San in order to keep the boy safe. How could he choose between them?

The child caught Qui-Gon’s line of sight. “I trust you, Master Qui-Gon. I’ll be okay.”

Taking a deep breath, the Jedi Master closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out for the Living Force’s direction. Bel-San was weakening steadily, despite Qui-Gon’s efforts. He knew that alone he didn’t have the strength to heal Bel-San, and he knew that Obi-Wan was strong in the Force; together they’d surely have enough to help the wounded Teacher. Opening his eyes, he gave Obi-Wan a small nod. He didn’t even want to think of what the Creche Masters would say, but if they didn’t try, it was more than possible that Bel-San would die before Gar and the others arrived.

Qui-Gon settled into a kneeling position next to the seated child. “You must listen very carefully and follow my every direction, Obi-Wan. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded, and Qui-Gon continued, his tone soft but commanding. “I need you to meditate, like you do in the Gardens. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan answered, and promptly closed his eyes, his hands still holding onto Qui-Gon’s large one.

In the space of a few heartbeats, Qui-Gon could sense the boy was far enough entranced to make a mind connection. Releasing his fears back to the Force, Qui-Gon placed his other hand on Bel-San’s forehead and closed his eyes. Without much effort, he could read Obi-Wan’s signature; he was at peace and fully submissive to the Force. Probing deeper with his own mind, he reached out to the boy’s consciousness.

As he initially made contact, Qui-Gon nearly broke his meditation in surprise when he realized the beginnings of a mindlink blooming in the boy. Completely of his own volition, Obi-Wan’s mind had already prepared itself to connect with Qui-Gon’s. Startled by the discovery, Qui-Gon almost pulled back when he felt Obi-Wan through their temporary mind-link.

:Don’t try to do anything, Obi-Wan, just stay relaxed and keep meditating, and I’ll take care of everything.: Qui-Gon spoke into the child’s mind, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt.

Feeling along their mind-link, Qui-Gon hesitantly began to draw strength from Obi-Wan into himself, and then pushed the energy into Bel-San, willing the tissues to join together once more and causing the bleeding to stop. The Jedi Master tried to keep a vigilant watch over how much he drew from the child; although Obi-Wan was strong in the Force, he was just five and could be easily drained. As Qui-Gon acted as the conduit between his friend and the boy, he couldn’t help but marvel at the level of trust Obi-Wan offered to him. Without a thought, Obi-Wan had offered his strength to heal Bel-San. Underneath his palm, Qui-Gon could feel Bel-San’s temperature warming back to normal, and could sense his breathing growing more steady. Although he didn’t have enough knowledge of healing to knit Bel-San’s broken bones together, he was able to heal the lacerations and cuts on his chest and legs from the jagged edges of the ceiling.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s consciousness waver slightly, and the Jedi knew he couldn’t take any more from the child without draining him completely. Deliberately stemming off the flow of strength from the boy, he released the final surge into Bel-San before withdrawing his hand from his friend’s forehead.

:Just hold on, Obi-Wan. We’re almost through,: Qui-Gon mind-spoke, using the temporary mind-link to send the boy a wave of encouragement before he pulled back from his meditative trance. As the Jedi Master opened his eyes, he gave Obi-Wan’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Obi-Wan? You can open your eyes, Little One.”

The small boy blinked slowly, and finally his gaze settled on Qui-Gon’s face. “Is Master Bel-San all right?” he murmured, his chin dropping forward as he struggled to keep his head up.

He reached out and pulled the child into his lap, and Obi-Wan fell heavily against his chest. “I think that we were able to help him. He’s much better off now than he was.”

“That’s good.” Obi-Wan whispered, and Qui-Gon knew he was fighting to keep his eyes open. He rubbed his face against Qui-Gon’s tunic. “I’m tired.”

Qui-Gon smoothed a hand over the boy’s hair. “I know. Sleep now. It’s going to be all right.”

He felt the boy’s head nod in the affirmative, and within moments, he heard the sound of Obi-Wan’s even breathing as he slept. Qui-Gon sighed; he hadn’t meant to drain the boy this far, but he hadn’t shared strength many times with other Jedi, and it was difficult to known when to stop since Obi-Wan wasn’t able to articulate how he was feeling. Settling back against a large piece of broken ceiling, he let out a long sigh. He looked at the small form curled in his lap, and he thought of the tentative bond forming in Obi-Wan’s mind. Qui-Gon shook his head; he had no idea the child had possessed the ability to connect in such a way. He wondered if La’Re knew about it, or Heri, and if they did, why hadn’t they discouraged it?

Suddenly, he felt a slight shift in the Force, and he looked up as Bel-San groaned softly. “Bel-San!”

The other Jedi lifted a hand shakily to his temple, wincing. “Qui-Gon? The children!” he cried. Bel-San’s eyes widened rapidly and he made an attempt to sit up, but then let out a loud moan when his broken ribs made themselves known. “What happened?”

Qui-Gon inched closer to his friend’s side, trying not to disturb the sleeping child. “How are you feeling?”

Bel-San closed his eyes, running his hand gingerly over his chest. “Like a big piece of ceiling fell on me.” The curly-haired Jedi cracked one eye open again, and then looked at Qui-Gon quizzically, his gaze falling on Obi-Wan.

“What is he doing here?” Bel-San groaned. “Are all the children. . .”

“No, no,” Qui-Gon assured, lifting a hand to halt Bel-San’s train of thought. “After you were injured, Gar and another Jedi came to lead the children outside to safety. I moved the piece of ceiling off of you and was carrying you outside when Obi-Wan came running back into find us. We were almost out, but the doorway collapsed, and there was just enough time to put a forcefield over us.”

“Ah,” Bel-San sighed, and then let out another groan as the released air disturbed his cracked ribs. “So am I going to be all right?” the other Jedi asked seriously.

Qui-Gon looked down at the floor, but he raised his eyes to meet his friend’s gaze. “I think so. The worst was the wound on your head, but I healed it. You’ve got a broken leg, and some broken ribs. . .”

“Yeah, I noticed those.” Bel-San supplied, wincing. He flicked a glance to Obi-Wan and then looked back at Qui-Gon. “That kid’s really out. What’d you do, drug him?”

“Not quite,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

“Is he all right?” Bel-San asked quickly, his tone worried. “He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

Qui-Gon sighed, impressed at Bel-San’s ability to look past his own pain and focus his attention on others. Despite the Jedi’s wicked sense of humor, Bel-San had always had a sense of compassion, one that often surprised those around him. “He will be.”

Bel-San rubbed the back of a hand on his forehead where the gash had previously been. “Why do I sense there’s more to this story?”

Qui-Gon shrugged, and then looked at his friend apologetically. “When he wakes up you’ll have to thank him. Obi-Wan shared his strength with me in order to heal your head.”

“What?!” Bel-San cried, sitting up and then falling back in pain, swearing. “Are you out of your mind? He’s a little kid!”

Qui-Gon swallowed, staring hard at Bel-San. “I know. But I made the decision to heal you while there was still time. I didn’t know how long it would take before Gar and the others get through the rubble to find us, and if I waited much longer, it wouldn’t have mattered,” he said pointedly.

Bel-San shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done that. Obi-Wan could have suffered major damage if something had gone wrong.”

“I know!” Qui-Gon snapped, and then swore under his breath. “I’m sorry. I made the best decision I could under the circumstances.” he explained calmly. “I couldn’t just let you bleed to death. What choice did I have?”

The other Jedi sighed as best he could and nodded, looking up gratefully at Qui-Gon, wordlessly thanking him for saving his life. “So explain to me this; how did you manage to share with a child? Even Jedi Masters can’t always make it work.” he asked curiously, the incredulity evident in his tone.

“I’m not really sure...” Qui-Gon fumbled for words, unsure how to explain. He looked down at the boy as he spoke, and then felt a tremble move through the Force. He sense it was a warning, and his body tensed. Watching the child for a moment, he suddenly realized something was wrong.

“Obi-Wan?” he gave the child a slight shake, but he received no response.

“What’s wrong?” Bel-San demanded, craning his neck.

“Oh Force,” he gasped. Qui-Gon felt like the floor had vanished from beneath his feet. “He’s not breathing.”

TBC