Crimes Between Us

Chapter Five

Rating: R

Obi-Wan still got no response when he called mentally for his Master in the light of

day. He followed me as I trudged through the forest, not knowing where I was going

but a much better judge of direction than the Jedi. At least we weren't going in

circles.

I had no idea how many times Obi-Wan had called for Qui-Gon, but he began to get

restless and fidgety. When he started seriously lagging behind, I stopped and

turned, cocking my head at him.

"What is it?"

We hadn't spoken since we'd made love at the waterfall, and I was beginning to

wonder if we'd ever speak again. We'd merely pulled ourselves from the water,

walked in silence back to the cave, dressed, and set out. But now, something was

bothering Obi-Wan, something beyond our machinations from the morning and the

night before.

Obi-Wan dipped his head then lifted it again, meeting my eyes with his own. "It's

my Master," he blurted, his voice sounding high-pitched and panicked. "I can't

reach him, still."

I took a few steps back to where Obi-Wan was standing and put a tentative hand on

his back. "Maybe he's still closed off--"

Obi-Wan shook his head violently. "No!" He lowered his eyes, and his voice in

turn. "No, something's wrong. I can feel it. He wouldn't stay closed off this long."

With a new determination, as though saying the words suddenly brought it true to

life, the Jedi stepped forward and set off to find our camp. I followed, sometimes

having to run to keep up with him. I didn't protest or complain though, as I normally

would. Part of me wondered if it was because I knew he was agitated--although it

had never stopped me from egging him on before. Deep down, I knew it was because

of our intimacy the night before. Intimacy that I was now wondering whether or not

should have ever happened.

It was at least an hour later before we found our camp. A fire was smoking, burning

itself out. The tent wasn't set, and the bags were scattered precariously around. I

furrowed my brow. Something wasn't right. I knew Obi-Wan sensed it too, because

he paced wildly, like a caged animal, his eyes raking over everything, as though he

was trying to figure out exactly what had happened there. Perhaps he was delving

into the Force of each item for answers. My breath caught in my throat when I

spied what looked like the handle of a flashlight several meters away. I knew it

wasn't a flashlight at all, but a light saber. Qui-Gon's light saber.

Without a word I walked slowly toward it, legs heavy and laden with fear. As I got

closer, my heart moved deeper and deeper into my stomach until it sat like a knot in

my gut. Dazed, I bent and touched the silver and black handle. It nearly quivered

with energy. I couldn't bring myself to call for Obi-Wan. Instead, my eyes filled

with tears and I quickly looked upward to keep the tears from falling. However, the

tears were unstoppable when I spied the Jedi Knight's lifeless body, hidden beneath

the brush just a hundred yards away.

Now I *had* to call for him. I *had* to tell him I found his Master, and he was hurt. Or

worse.

Obi-Wan reached out for my mind. I felt the slight touch and it jarred me. I knew

he would feel the fear, the sorrow, the utter despair within me and instantly know

something devastating had happened. I tried to slam the shields up but didn't

have enough time. My reaction would be slow anyway, as I didn't have much

practice in hiding my thoughts from other people.

Within seconds, Obi-Wan was at my side, lifting the saber from the mud as though it

was a precious gem. My heart stopped as a cry wrenched itself from deep in his

throat when he turned his head and saw his Master laying on the ground.

"Master! No!"

The young Jedi did not approach his Master tentatively, rather tearing across the

muddy, wet terrain to where the fallen man lay. He knelt, clipping Qui-Gon's light

saber back to his belt where it belonged. It didn't matter if he was dead, that was

where the weapon should stay. As Obi-Wan lifted Qui-Gon's head, I saw the Jedi's

eyes flicker and realized he was still alive. Moving closer, I could hear short gasps

of breath escaping Qui-Gon's parted lips. Obi-Wan cradled his Master's head in his

lap and pointed to Qui-Gon's wrist, indicating the comlink.

"Call for help," he instructed me. His voice cracked with grief, and I could see the

shimmer of unshed tears in the blue depths of his eyes.

I briefly wondered if it would be possible to move; my entire body felt numb.

Somehow though I did, nodding silently and lifted the Jedi Knight's arm, glad to see

it was still warm. I squeezed his hand gently as I bent my head and activated the

comlink, speaking softly into it. I asked for medical assistance and struggled when

we asked for our coordinates. I didn't dare ask Obi-Wan, and merely tried to

describe our location.

Finally, an unlikely voice drifted between us.

"A compass, in my belt." Qui-Gon sounded weak, frightened. I looked at him

uneasily. "In my belt," he repeated, gesturing vaguely toward his midsection.

I hesitated only a second before reaching down and unclipping the compass from his

belt. I looked at the coordinates and relayed them to the medic on the other end of

the comlink. When I clicked off, I returned Qui-Gon's hand to his stomach, keeping

my fingers gently intertwined with his.

Obi-Wan dipped his head down and spoke softly to his Master.

"Hang on, Master. You're gonna be okay, I promise you."

Qui-Gon shook his head, his eyes lulling back momentarily. "No, Obi-Wan. Know--

know that I'm proud of you, and I know you will see this mission through--"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Master. You're not leaving me now. I won't let

you." The boy was pleading, aching for his Master to live. I watched as he dipped

his head, closing his eyes. A single tear trickled down his cheek and dripped onto

Qui-Gon's tunic. My heart broke.

When Obi-Wan didn't look up for several moments, and seemingly slumped further

and further toward his Master, I felt a spasm of panic shoot through me. Dipping

my own head down, I searched his face. It was ghastly white, his breathing

shallowing.

What the hell was he doing?!

It flitted through my mind that Jedi could give life, or at least heal through the

Force. I began to realize that was precisely what Obi-Wan was doing for his

Master. Confirming my suspicions, I saw color begin to return to Qui-Gon's cheeks,

his breathing quicken and deepen. Obi-Wan was giving his life Force to his Master.

he was, in turn, taking vigor from his own. If he didn't' stop soon, Obi-Wan would

gallantly kill himself.

Filled with sudden strength, Qui-Gon lifted his head. "No! Padawan, stop now! I

command you!"

I snapped my head up, surprised at the Master's words. I reached out a hand and

brushed it over Obi-Wan's head, but he flinched away, weakly tumbling to one side.

Qui-Gon grasped onto his Padawan's arm and stubbornly returned some of the

Force. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"No, Master. Let me--"

"Silence, Padawan. The medics are coming. Let them care for me."

It took everything in me to keep from separating the two. It broke my heart to see

the selfless giving between Master and Padawan, a relationship I didn't quite

understand, and had resigned myself to regard more as father and son.

When the medics finally came, Obi-Wan had regained most of his strength,

rightfully losing the battle of wills with his Master. I knew Qui-Gon thought Obi-

Wan the wiser man, but Qui-Gon, in his years of experience was far stronger and

more Force centered than the incorrigible young Jedi Padawan.

I managed to get the bags packed up and loaded into the land speeder, despite the

fact that my legs had turned to rubber and I could barely feel the rest of my body.

Everything blurred in front of me and I stumbled across the smoking embers of the

fire before the medic that had stayed behind pulled me to safety.

"Miss Solo--are you alright?"

I think I nodded, perhaps I even answered, but I can't be sure now. The medic

valiantly loaded the rest of the bags and packed me securely into the land speeder

before taking the controls, jetting us to the medical facility where they'd taken Qui-

Gon.

**

Obi-Wan was silhouetted in the moonlight that was filtering in through the half-

open curtains on the window of the healing room. I stood in the doorway and

watched for several moments, noting with familiarity the soft curve of his lips, the

stubborn line of his jaw, the cleft in his chin, down to the broad echelon of his

shoulders as they slumped forward in silent defeat.

I wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but something held me back. A nagging voice

in my head told me that if he wanted me, if he needed me, he would have come to me.

But the entire afternoon had been silent. The medics had worked on Qui-Gon for

hours. And Obi-Wan remained stoic in the waiting area, neither speaking to me nor

looking at me, not even the briefest glance. When I spoke, the few times I had, he

looked up and through me, then back down at his lap, as though I hadn't spoken at

all. It tore through my heart--the deep, vacant look of those blue eyes, the same eyes

that had gazed upon me with something I had naively read into as love, not 24 hours

before.

The optimist in me, the part that was unusual for a Solo, said that the boy was

merely grieving.

That optimist was becoming more and more pitiful as the hours wore on.

Now Qui-Gon was resting easily, the medics assured us he would pull through. But

Obi-Wan still would not speak, would not acknowledge another's presence. He only

sat at his Master's side, sometimes meditating, sometimes speaking softly, sometimes

just staring. I'd dozed on the sofa in the waiting room for some hours of the night,

and I wondered, I hoped, Obi-Wan had dozed as well. We hadn't gotten much sleep

the night before, and as this night drew to a close, I knew the young Jedi had to be

weary to the point of delirium.

My eyes drifted to Qui-Gon, his chest steadily rising and falling under the light

blanket that covered his bandaged chest. He'd suffered chest wounds, some more

serious than others, and lost a lot of blood. The medic said that it was a miracle the

Jedi had survived the night. I knew that it wasn't a miracle, in fact, it was a

stubborn, willful Apprentice that saved Master Qui-Gon's life.

"Obi-Wan?"

I wasn't even aware I had spoken until the word floated from my lips and hovered in

the air of the still room.

If I could have taken it back, I would have. After all, hindsight is 20/20. If I had an

inkling of what was going to happen next, I would have not only not spoken a word

to the young Jedi, but I would have packed my belongings and hightailed it off that

planet as soon as possible.

The Jedi turned to look at me, his eyes flat and haunted. He seemed to just stare

blankly for a long while, and I had no way to tell whether he was thinking or just--

staring.

I moved forward slowly, swallowing hard as he followed my every move with his

eyes. Blue depths that suddenly leapt to life, burning with a blaze of fire.

"Don't," he cautioned, although at the time I didn't know it was a warning. Instead,

in pure Kalla Solo fashion, I ignored his request and continued toward him, placing

two hands on his shoulders and dipping my head down to the crook of his neck,

arrogantly thinking my presence would somehow comfort him.

The force with which he tossed me away from him startled me so much that tears

immediately sprung from my eyes. I didn't fall, but stumbled backwards, my back

coming into sudden contact with the sill of the window. If I'd had the courage, I'd

have thrown myself out of that very window rather than bear the wrath with which

Obi-Wan was staring at me now.

"Don't," he repeated, his voice slicing through the still air like a saber blade. It was

hoarse, angry. "You," he said it as though it was a dirty word, shaking tenor

accompanying a shaking hand that pointed a finger accusingly at me. "Stay--away--

from--me." He enunciated every word, perhaps just in case each one didn't stab into

my heart and twist there, so painfully I thought I would collapse right there on the

floor of the healing room.

He shouldn't have had to say more, and he didn't have to; after that venom in his

voice I would have gladly stayed away from him forever. But he continued anyway,

twisting the blade deeper and deeper into my heart with every word.

"I should have been there," he cried, anguish coloring his words as he pointed

vaguely behind him to his sleeping Master. Tears slipped from his eyes, but he

didn't seem to notice his just as he hadn't noticed mine. I, in turn, ignored them. "I

should have been there, at the camp, but instead, I was--"

My knees suddenly went weak, and I slumped against the wall, using the sill of the

window to keep me upright. He blamed himself and in turn, blamed me, for the

indiscretions of the night before.

"We were--" he stopped again, fury shaking his entire body. "We were *fucking*--"

He spat the word crudely from his mouth, catching me so much by surprise that I

gasped aloud then clamped a hand over my own mouth and bit into my flesh, hard.

So hard that soon I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood, but I didn't feel any

pain other than the pain in my heart, deep burning wounds scarring me all the way

to my soul, and it was then that I realized that I loved him and he now hated me.

Too late, Solo. Always too damn late.

I didn't wait for him to say any more, I couldn't bear anymore. Not that night. Not

ever. Somehow I found my legs again, and lurched from the wall I was huddled

against, hurdling myself out of the room. Vaguely, I remember hearing him

storming after me, but I'd often convinced myself it was my imagination and the

calls of my name from that voice--that sweet, soft voice--were merely memories of the

one night we shared.

**