Crushed
Part 3
After another lightsaber session in which Obi-Wan's left hand was tied behind his back, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan knelt down in meditation in their quarters. At first, Obi-Wan was successful in losing himself in the Force, but after a while, his attention wandered, and he found himself thinking of Phar yet again; her brilliant smile, the odd colour of her eyes, the way she tilted her head ..."Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan?"
The voice of his master finally drilled into his consciousness, and he opened his eyes, looking up sheepishly.
"How was your meditation?"
"Not � not very good," Obi-Wan admitted. "I was distracted."
"By what?"
"By � Phar. I was thinking about Phar."
"And what was so interesting about Miss Swife?"
To Qui-Gon, she was always Miss Swife, even here in their apartment. Obi-Wan wondered again why his master never referred to her as Phar, as she'd offered, or even by her full name Potiphar. He seemed to be purposefully keeping her at a distance, and Obi-Wan had no idea why.
"Everything. Nothing. I don't know. I just know I can't stop thinking about her," he confessed, then added, "I was feeling a bit guilty that I live here in the Temple and always have enough to eat and warm clothes to wear."
"I understood that Miss Swife was placed with a foster family who was able to provide her with those things as well," Qui-Gon said.
"Phar left. She said she missed her gang," Obi-Wan explained.
"If she left the family voluntarily, then she is taking the consequences of her choice."
Obi-Wan sighed. "I suppose. But why would she do that � choose to live on the streets in the lower levels and have to be dependent on soup kitchens or � or even crime to survive?"
"I don't know, Obi-Wan. You said that she missed the gang. Perhaps that feeling of belonging is more important to her than anything else."
Obi-Wan was silent as he tried to comprehend this concept, trying to remember what Phar had told him about the gang when he'd visited the correctional facility to work in the rehab program. Back then, he hadn't got the impression that belonging to the gang was the most important thing to her. If he recalled correctly, she'd been more excited about the chance to be part of a foster family and be allowed to go back to school. Once, she'd even admitted to being a little nervous as well, wondering if they would ever kick her out, and hoping she'd never give them reason to. He wondered again why she'd gone back to the gang.
"Master, she invited me to come visit her � and the gang. She said I could use my lightsaber to help them kill a few vrelts."
"Kill a few vrelts?" Qui-Gon looked at him sharply.
"She said they did have vrelts there, Master, and that one almost bit her once. May I go visit her? To � to help?"
Qui-Gon was silent for a long time and then finally replied, "No."
Obi-Wan was silent, but in answer to his unspoken question, Qui-Gon said, "I don't feel it would be a good idea."
"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked, carefully controlling his voice so as not to sound disrespectful.
"I do not know, not yet," Qui-Gon mused. "Sometimes we must trust the Force without knowing why. Perhaps if you meditate, you can tell me."
Obi-Wan frowned, feeling strangely defensive. Had that been a suggestion, an order, or a rebuke? He had been meditating � well, at least until he'd started thinking about Phar, and that had really only been for just a moment or two, right at the end, just one single stray thought about her smile.
"Padawan!"
Obi-Wan glanced up at the unusually sharp tone of voice, feeling guilty. "Sorry, Master. I was just � thinking."
"I see. Take your socks off."
"My socks, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, obediently shifting from a kneeling to a sitting position and tugging on the first one.
Qui-Gon stood up in one fluid motion and went to the shelves on one wall of the living room, taking down a small rectangular box. When he'd removed the object from inside, Obi-Wan could see that it was a stiff feather.
�Concentration exercises," Qui-Gon announced. "You will have to learn to deal with the distraction of me tickling your feet occasionally with this feather. Handstand."
Obi-Wan obediently put his hands down in the middle of the living room and flipped his feet up, using the Force to keep his balance.
"The cushion from the couch." Qui-Gon stepped closer to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan levitated it into the air.
"Your socks."
Obi-Wan reached out with the Force for them, too.
"And me."
Size matters not, Obi-Wan reminded himself as he levitated Qui-Gon until the man's feet were level with his eyes, careful not to bump him into the ceiling. It was taking a lot of concentration already, even without the feather, but he knew that his master was right to introduce such a difficult exercise. He knew that he'd been distracted by Phar, and that he was thinking of her at inappropriate times. He had to learn how to put her out of his mind and concentrate on the moment. But knowing how much he needed the discipline didn't make acquiring it any easier, and at least twice, he dropped everything that he was levitating, including Qui-Gon. The session was gruelling, but mercifully brief.
"You may get up now," Qui-Gon announced after his second hard landing.
Obi-Wan put his legs down and straightened up slowly, letting a wave of dizziness wash over him.
"I believe Dyarbin is waiting for you."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan sat down to pull on his socks again, and his boots.
Dyarbin was in the hallway outside the training room when Obi-Wan arrived. He appeared to be talking to some other initiates, but as Obi-Wan got closer, the tone of their voices told him that it wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation.
"You gonna overpower him with that droid? Huh? Is that what it's for?"
"Yeah, I mean, it can shoot bolts of electricity! Obi-Wan better watch out! He's in mortal danger!" The Devaronian spoke sarcastically, but Dyarbin protested, "No, they're harmless, you just get a little shock. I wouldn't hurt -"
"You should build a whole army of droids, Dyar, you need every advantage you can get!"
"'Cause otherwise Obi-Wan could just � push � you � around!" The Bothan boy put his paws on Dyarbin's shoulder and punctuated his words with three hard shoves that sent Dyarbin backwards into the wall.
"Oww!" Dyarbin cried out, looking hurt and confused. Watching him reminded Obi-Wan of the times he'd been teased by others, and he felt a sudden, urgent wish for Dyarbin to defend himself, if not physically, then at least by verbally defusing the situation. But Dyarbin obviously could not think of any reply at all, nor did he even shove his way out of the attack. He simply stood there, expecting the worst. No, Obi-Wan decided, Dyarbin would never be chosen as a padawan. But the Temple did not exclude anybody, and tried hard to guide its children to where they could best use the talents they possessed. Dyarbin would probably end up doing something with electronics.
"Hello, Dyarbin," said Obi-Wan loudly. As he'd expected, the initiates jumped slightly, then tried to hide their surprise as they turned around to face him. They bowed respectfully and then walked away.
"Hello, Obi-Wan," Dyarbin said, smiling in relief. "Do you know what? They thought I was going to try to overpower you with my droid. They thought that the electrical bolts were too strong and you might be killed! But that's silly. I'd never build anything that could hurt anybody. You didn't get hurt when it shot you this afternoon, did you? It was just a little shock, right?"
"Right," said Obi-Wan, managing to control a small burst of impatience as they went into the training room. "Ready to spar?"
"Just a moment, Obi-Wan, I have to put Shooter away. Do you know why I call my droid Shooter? Because he can shoot little bolts of electricity." Dyarbin grinned, then placed the droid on the floor next to the wall and fumbled for his lightsaber. "Or did you want him to spar with us?"
"No, thank you. I think it's enough if it's just the two of us."
"Yes, you're right." Dyarbin gave a little giggle.
Wincing, Obi-Wan tried not to think of Phar and how nice her laughter had sounded in comparison to this annoying whinny. He and Dyarbin bowed to each other and then each stepped back and ignited his lightsaber. There was a very long pause.
"Well, come on, attack me," Obi-Wan finally said.
"Oh. Sorry." Dyarbin came at him with an overhead chop that Obi-Wan easily parried. Dyarbin retreated a step and Obi-Wan held back from swinging his lightsaber around to the boy's neck as he stood there considering. At length, he tried a low swing which Obi-Wan simply hopped over.
After several minutes of defending against the painfully obvious attacks, Obi-Wan began to daydream of how much more exciting it would be if he were visiting Phar instead, and killing the vrelts or anything else that threatened her. Maybe he'd even get a borrat. That would really impress her. He'd seen a life-size holo of one once, and it had been longer than he was tall, with ferocious looking tusks, and spines, and claws. If he got one of those, Phar would give him one of her dazzling smiles as thanks � she might even squeeze his hand. Both hands!
Obi-Wan's pleasant daydream was abruptly truncated by a searing pain in his arm and he cried out in surprise.
"Sorry! Obi-Wan, I'm sorry! Are you badly hurt? Shall I get some bacta? Maybe one of the healers? What if your arm falls off?" Dyarbin danced around agitatedly, seeming absolutely horrified.
"No, I'm fine, it's all right," Obi-Wan replied. "Calm down, Dyar, it's nothing."
"Are you sure?" Dyarbin asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure." After a moment, Obi-Wan added dutifully, "Good move, Dyar."
"Was it? Was it really?"
"Yes, it was. You caught me. A bit higher and it would have been kill point."
Dyarbin grinned with pleasure, and Obi-Wan shrugged inwardly, thinking that it didn't take much to make the boy happy. Really, he'd almost been doing him a favour by not paying attention.
As they sat down to their simple meal of soup and bread, Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon looking at him with an odd expression on his face, one that he couldn't classify immediately. Remembering their earlier conversation and the unusual sternness in his master's voice, Obi-Wan asked, "Master, are you angry with me?"
"Why should I be angry with you, Obi-Wan?"
"Because of my ... feelings for Phar?"
"No, Obi-Wan. A crush is perfectly natural thing and I expected it to happen to you sooner or later." Qui-Gon stopped eating and regarded him with a small smile. "Actually, I was surprised when you didn't develop feelings for Princess Fabafabia."
Obi-Wan tried to remember Princess Fabafabia, but saw only Phar's face. After a moment, he quickly changed the subject. "Did you ever have a crush on someone?"
"Oh, yes," Qui-Gon admitted, to Obi-Wan's utter and total surprise. "Twice."
"Twice?" Obi-Wan echoed. "What did you do? What happened?"
"Nothing." Qui-Gon looked amused for a moment at Obi-Wan's obvious disappointment, then added more sternly, "We Jedi are allowed to have feelings. But we cannot allow them to rule us, and in many cases, we cannot act upon them at all. You must overcome this crush and not let it interfere with your training. You've made good progress with your anger and controlling your temper in the time that we've worked together. I know that you are capable of learning to control your other emotions and not wallow in them."
Obi-Wan nodded to acknowledge this wisdom, then paused, and finally got up the courage to ask, "Master, do you like Phar?"
"Whether I like her or not is immaterial, Obi-Wan. I am concerned for you, that's all. I am unhappy when you let yourself get distracted during meditation, for instance. A Jedi cannot afford to voluntarily interrupt his connection to the Force like that."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, feeling grateful that Qui-Gon had not been there to see how he'd let himself get distracted during the match with Dyarbin. His master would be radiating disapproval if he'd seen even that tiny lapse in concentration, even though it was mostly Dyarbin's fault for being so boring and not being able to challenge Obi-Wan enough. Why couldn't Qui-Gon let him go down to Phar and concentrate on vrelts or borrats instead? Thinking of Phar again, remembering how she'd complained of having been hungry all night, he picked up his bread roll and looked at it for a long time. At length, he asked, "May I give this to Phar to-morrow?"
Qui-Gon considered the request. "You may, if you can do it so that nobody else sees you. I don't want to have to control a riot down there if people think that others are getting more to eat than they are."
Obi-Wan blushed slightly. He hadn't thought of that, but he still put the bread aside. Although his stomach growled once in protest, he ignored the feeling, thinking how much more Phar would be suffering from hunger, and began to plan a way to slip her the roll without anybody noticing.