Crushed
Part 2
Obi-Wan lowered himself onto the couch with a groan, wincing as he accidentally rubbed a welt. He'd been right. It had been a very challenging session � he was covered with lightsaber burns and could barely move for exhaustion."Take your tunics off and I'll put some salve on your back," Qui-Gon said, heading into the refresher to get the tube.
Obi-Wan obeyed silently, sitting forward so that his master could reach the burns across his back and shoulders. The bacta salve was cool and made him jump at first, but then it turned warm as it began the healing process on each injury.
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan as he pulled his tunic back on and turned around to face Qui-Gon again. "Why do I feel as though I've failed when I have a session like this with you, and why doesn't Dyarbin ever feel as though he's failed when he does worse than this with me?"
"You haven't failed. I'm proud of you for doing your best, and I certainly wasn't making it easy for you," Qui-Gon replied, reaching out to ruffle Obi-Wan's hair. Obi-Wan smiled at the sign of affection.
"And how do you know that Dyarbin doesn't feel as though he's failed?"
"Well, he doesn't act like he's sad or anything. He never goes away with a frown on his face. He says "ouch" when he gets burned, but other than that, he doesn't seem to care what happens when we spar."
"He probably doesn't," Qui-Gon said. With a small smile, he added, "I think we both know what Dyarbin cares about the most."
"But if he doesn't care, then why does he always ask me?"
"It sounds to me like a case of hero worship," Qui-Gon announced, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Hero worship?" Obi-Wan was surprised.
"You said he was ambushing you, building a new droid every day for you to look at. He wants your attention, Obi-Wan, because he admires you. And he asks you to spar, because that gives you the chance to do something that you like doing, while being with him, which is what he likes."
"Oh," Obi-Wan replied, suddenly seeing his meetings with Dyarbin in a new and different light. "I think I understand."
He'd had his own experiences with that feeling of wanting attention and approval from somebody that he looked up to. But as he and Qui-Gon knelt down to meditate, Obi-Wan found his thoughts drifting to Phar and how he suddenly wanted her attention and her approval, especially if it came with that smile again.
The gang was back the next day, but at first, Obi-Wan could not see Phar among them. He felt a moment of disappointment until he suddenly spotted her farther down the line, half-hidden behind the Togorian with the dirty, mangy fur, and then he felt himself start to smile.
"Well, we're here again," Phar said as she came up. She took her bowl of soup and came around the table to stand next to him. Drive gave her a glare, but stalked off, and Obi-Wan noticed that he found a seat where he had a clear view of his sister. A moment later, Phar's voice made him turn his head. "We thought we'd caught a few crates of food falling off the back of a transporter, but then Security showed up and accused us of stealing it, so we had to run. We were hungry all night � we could hardly wait to get here to-day."
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said sympathetically.
Phar flashed him that brilliant smile, making him feel as though his few simple words had made the situation better immediately. Suddenly, she dug into a pocket of her trousers and extended a comlink on her open palm. "By the way, you dropped this yesterday."
Obi-Wan stared at it in surprise, his hand going automatically to his belt. She was right, it was his. He didn't understand how he could have dropped it, as he hadn't used it yesterday at all. Usually, it was in a secure pocket, but he couldn't explain otherwise how it had come to be in Phar's possession.
"Thank you," he replied, putting it back into its proper place. "I never noticed it was missing."
"You've got to watch out for your things," she laughed.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied absently, looking into her eyes. For the first time, he noticed that they weren't actually brown, as they appeared to be from a distance, but were actually an odd shade of green. He saw his own reflection in them, and could have looked forever, but after a moment, Phar broke the contact, making him aware of the food line again. Dishing up a plateful of soup for the next being, Obi-Wan murmured an apology for having made him wait, then turned back to Phar only to see her wandering away and sitting down across from Drive.
She came back about ten minutes later, though, as the line was coming to an end, sliding around behind the table to stand next to Obi-Wan again. "Can I help you wash up?"
Obi-Wan looked over to Qui-Gon, who considered the request in silence for a moment. For Obi-Wan, it seemed like an eternity. Why didn't his master just say yes? None of the other beings who ate at the kitchen ever volunteered to help.
"I'm not going to steal the spoons," Phar joked.
At length, Qui-Gon replied, "Thank you, Miss Swife, we would appreciate your assistance."
"You can call me Phar, you know."
"I know," Qui-Gon nodded. Obi-Wan wondered why his master insisted on being so formal with her. Maybe he just didn't know her well enough. After all, it had been Obi-Wan doing the volunteering at the correctional center, not Qui-Gon.
"I'll wash and you can dry, Obi-Wan," Phar said, rolling the cart of dirty dishes into the small kitchen in the back of the dining area. Obi-Wan followed as she put the plug into the sink and began to run the hot water.
"Don't forget the soap," Obi-Wan said, squatting down to get the squeeze bottle from the cabinet underneath. To his surprise, Phar leaned her leg heavily against his shoulder, almost making it impossible for him to straighten up again. He had to shift his weight and ease himself away from her.
"So is it true," Phar asked, taking the bottle from his hands while looking him in the eyes, "that Jedi can use the Force to enhance ... every performance?"
At the word "every", she squeezed the bottle vigorously so that a long stream of liquid soap spurted into the water. Her eyes remained fixed on his, however, and her expression showed genuine curiosity mixed with flirtatiousness and also a strange, desperate hope. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable without knowing why, or exactly what it was about her words or her actions that produced such a feeling in him, Obi-Wan looked away, latching instead onto a triviality.
"You're using too much!" he protested, grabbing the bottle back again. "You'll have suds up to the ceiling!"
"I like bubble baths," Phar said slowly, still looking intently at him. "Don't you?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan replied shortly, having bent down again to replace the bottle where it belonged. "I've never had one."
"What? You've never had one? Do you even have bathtubs at the Temple, or just cold showers?"
"We have bathtubs," Obi-Wan explained as he straightened up, feeling faintly guilty as he remembered that Phar and her gang probably didn't have such comforts if they lived in the lower levels. "And hot showers."
"I took a bubble bath every day when I lived with my foster family," Phar said quietly, her voice sounding wistful. "It made me feel ... luxurious. Like a rich woman. But Drive ..."
She was silent for a long moment, and Obi-Wan finally asked, "Drive doesn't like bubble baths?"
Phar looked at him blankly, as though he had interrupted a daydream and she'd only heard the sound of his voice but not his actual words. Then she smiled a little and changed the subject. "You didn't answer my question."
"What was it again?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering why his normally good Jedi memory had let him down, but at that moment, Drive appeared in the doorway with a stack of soup bowls to add to the cart. He stood there and stared at them until Phar's smile faded completely. Grim-faced now, she picked up a handful of spoons, then turned to the sink and plunged them into the hot, sudsy water.
"The question was, could you come down and visit us sometime?" she asked innocently. "You could use your lightsaber to help us kill a few vrelts."
"We don't have vrelts," Drive said. "The Jedi doesn't need to visit us and we don't need his help."
"We do have vrelts!" Phar protested. "Remember the one that almost bit me? You said you'd hunt down and kill anything that hurt your sister. Remember?"
"Yes, I would. But I don't need Jedi help to do it," Drive snarled. Phar didn't answer, but Obi-Wan was aware of tension in her body.
Eventually, Drive turned away and went back out to pick up more plates, and Phar said quietly, "I need Jedi help. And ... I've never seen your lightsaber before."
"No, I guess you haven't," Obi-Wan said, glancing down to where it hung on his belt. "They wouldn't let me wear it when I helped out at the rehabilitation program."
The tension had disappeared from her body, and Phar threw back her head and laughed out loud. Surprised, Obi-Wan looked at her, not comprehending what was so funny. She didn't explain, but her laughter was contagious, and before he knew it, he was giggling along with her, not even stopping when Qui-Gon appeared in the doorway with another stack of bowls.
Back at the Temple again, Obi-Wan didn't see Dyarbin waiting for them at the entrance, but when they were halfway across the great hall, he came leaping down the stairs so fast that Obi-Wan worried he might slip and roll the rest of the way. "Hi, Obi-Wan, hi, Master Jinn, I've made a new droid, look!"
Trying extra hard to hide his impatience and remember how important it had been for him to get the attention that he'd craved during his own episode of hero worship, Obi-Wan smiled and admired the squat, ugly droid with its uneven number of appendages. Inwardly, however, he was wishing that it was Phar meeting him and showing him something that she'd created.
"Look, it can shoot a little bolt of electricity! Shoot!"
Obi-Wan jumped as the tiny electric spark hit his hand, and tried not to ask what it would be good for. "Very nice."
"And I did really well on my meditation! So can I spar with you to-day? Please, Master Jinn, has he got time to-day?"
"Yes, he certainly has," Qui-Gon replied.
Obi-Wan stifled a groan and nodded obediently, hoping that Dyarbin hadn't noticed his slight hesitation. "What time, Master?"
"You'll have an hour right before supper. In fact, Obi-Wan, you could practice with him the rest of the week while we're here on Coruscant. But you must excuse us now, Dyarbin, because Obi-Wan has many things to do before then."
"Thanks, Master Jinn! I'll be looking forward to it, Obi-Wan, and don't be late! One hour before supper!" Dyarbin gathered up his droid and leaped back up the stairs.
When he'd disappeared around the bend, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon. "Master, please don't think I'm being disrespectful, but � the whole week?"
"You are not being disrespectful, Obi-Wan; however, the fact that you asked at all means you still need to work on patience and tolerance. The opportunity to learn is here, Obi-Wan, let us take it and be grateful."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan sighed. He knew he had to practice his patience in order to truly earn the title of Jedi. He knew he wasn't responding properly to Dyarbin and that he had to do better. He just wished that Qui-Gon would find a way for him to learn patience and tolerance with Phar instead.