. Bonds of Choice #17 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 2 of 5) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Jenji paced the length of the studio, trying not to look at Qui-Gon Jinn. A strong, dangerous Jedi Master rocking and weeping in the floor is not the most comforting sight a Padawan can be treated to. She sighed in relief when Corubia entered. Corubia took one look at Qui-Gon and demanded "What did you do to him?" "Nothing!" Jenji protested. "We were talking about Obi-Wan and ... I guess he didn't know about Obi swearing off love ... " "You IDIOT!!!" Corubia shouted. She knelt down next to Qui-Gon and started stroking his hair. "Master Jinn? Master Jinn? I need you to listen to me. It's not like she said it was. Obi's just confused about some stuff, you know? He cares about you, I promise." Qui-Gon's head snapped up. "I know bullshit when I hear it, Padawan. I've been an idiot for these past months. A damned fool. I've been pouring my heart out to this half-trained BOY and he's been using me like the slut he thinks I am. I can do without your sympathy, thank you very much." "Master Jinn, that's our brother you're talking about," Corubia managed to sound warning at that. "And your Padawan. Do you really think you could have raised someone who could be so cruel to someone who's done nothing but care about him?" "No, Padawan. Then again, I never thought I could train someone who would turn to the Dark, either! Oh, for skies sake. I don't need a bunch of Padawans henning me!" He jerked away from her hand and headed out the door. The two friends stared after him for a long moment. "Well?" Jenji finally asked. "Keep tabs on him. Follow him when you can. When he goes to roost, we'll get to him again. Fuck. Kenobi's gonna kill us if we screw up their chances together," Corubia kicked Jenji. "What the hell were you thinking?" "Damnit, Cor, it was the truth. He deserves to know what he's up against!" She defended herself. "That was just cold and I don't even know what you said to him," Corubia growled. "This isn't helping. Give him some lead time, then we go to him," Corubia decided. "I'm going to get Master Crowe. He might know what to do. Damnit, Jenji! Damn men in general, too," she added, for good measure. A short jog down the hall to the lifts and Corubia stopped to hunt her Master. She hadn't really tried to touch Kourt's mind before and suddenly wished they'd had time for a more controlled experiment. She took a deep, calming breath and focused on the still-freshly-forged bond between herself and her teacher. ::Master?:: <> She sighed in relief, then steeled herself for whatever punishment might come of the day's events. ::Qui-Gon's in trouble. I need your help.:: <> ::At the lifts near the art rooms.:: <> ::Jenji's following him.:: <> ##Corubia?## ::Yeah, Jen?:: ## I lost him.## ::Okay, stay right where you are. We'll be right there. Don't run from me. You'll only die tired.:: ##He went into the Armory. I don't have access codes to get in there.## Corubia's heart froze at that. The Armory held enough weapons and instruments of mayhem to take out a good-sized army. *Skies above, please don't let him ...* The ding of an arriving lift broke her train of thought. Kourt stepped out and looked around. "He's gone in the Armory, Master ..." "Come on, no time to lose," Kourt held the lift door and they were soon speeding their way upwards, hoping their efforts would not come too late. *********************** Qui-Gon sat on the Temple walls, knees pulled up to his chest, trying to make himself do that which he did not wish to do. *Forget it, Jinn,* his mind insisted. *I absolutely will NOT,* his heart replied. Qui-Gon, the man, was caught between the two impulses, unable to find his way. *Go on,* his mind said. *It's better to stop now, before the roots are too deep.* *I absolutely will not give up so easily.* Qui-Gon couldn't decide whether that came from his heart or himself. It certainly sounded like something the most stubborn, hidebound, prideful Jedi to ever walk or crawl would say. "But wasn't it your pride that got you here in the first place, Jinn? Your confidence that he would love you just as deeply as you love him?" "He will, Quigs. You have to give him time." Qui-Gon turned to see a small crowd of figures hovering near the doorway. "Never can leave well enough alone, can you, Kourt?" "I'll leave you alone when you're well enough to be left alone," his friend replied. "You scared the snot out of two senior Padawans and a Master just now. That's got to be some kind of record, even for you." Qui-Gon wanted to say 'They started it,' but even he knew how childish that sounded. He settled for an annoyed snort. "Master Jinn?" Qui-Gon recognized the voice as Padawan Sharoum. "Yes, Padawan?" "I brought something ... I thought it might help ... " Jenji came to settle next to Qui-Gon on the edge of the wall. Qui-Gon wanted to make her scoot back, remove herself from the danger of a fall. Pointless. Qui-Gon would no more allow Jenji to fall than he would reject her attempts to soothe Qui-Gon's hurt feelings. He sensed the others settling around him, carefully bracketing him and cutting off all routs of escape. Jenji began to hum some low, soothing tune, and threw Corubia a look. Corubia smiled back and began to sing with the other Padawan. "Long and slow and ever-lasting Drawn from one to bind another Though feast surrounds me I am fasting Waiting for my one true lover Patient will my lover be Willing evermore to wait Until the time that I can see That my lover is my mate I am fire, ever burning For myself, I'm ever-chill Until love for which I'm yearning Lets my spirit drink its fill Patient will my lover be Willing evermore to wait Until the time that I can see That my lover is my mate" The song continued, Jenji's soprano twining with Corubia's sure, calm alto. No one had to tell Qui-Gon who had penned these hopeful words. They wouldn't have brought them to him unless Obi-Wan had expressed himself this way. When the song was done, He turned to them. "Okay, you've made your point. If I bide my time, I still have something like a chance. Patience is still part of my best course of action. But how do I turn that chance into a reality?" The Padawans exchanged a round of looks, clearly sharing a conversation the Masters were not invited to join in on. "Well, us. We know Kenobi like no one else. Swed, too. If he won't come willingly to your love ... we submarine him." Qui-Gon smiled at that. "First things first. You've got to be honest with him, let him know who *you* are, or this is never going to work," Jenji put a hand on his arm. "That was 90% of our problem. Too many assumptions, not enough truth." Qui-Gon groaned at that. "But I can't just shatter his idea of me as his master!" "Then you can give up on the idea of him being your mate anytime soon. Stop whining and come on." Kourt came to help Qui-Gon up. "Second things second, we're telling you every scrap of dirt we have on him. That's, what, seventeen years worth? We'd better get started," Corubia grinned from the other side of her master. "Not now, my Padawan. Master Jinn and I have work to do before he can get the gossip on his student," Kourt insisted. "You all go on, we'll catch up to you later." The Padawans went ahead as Qui-Gon collected himself. Kourt lagged behind. "You came up here to give up on him, didn't you?" Qui-Gon nodded. "Foolish mortal. Trying to quit the game before it has even started. Come on, I can't wait to hear more about this Padawan of yours. And we need to start with Torlamin before that can happen. The time grows near," Kourt slung his arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders and pulled him towards the Armory door. "Why don't you go get a snack and I'll meet you at the lower level concourse." Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance, firmly refusing to listen to the argument still going on within him. *If anyone can help me, it's these children. * ******************** Obi-Wan gave a sigh of relief when his lightslate finally signaled an incoming transmission. To his surprise, the signal was voice only. "Crowe." "Master Crowe? Did I disturb you?" Obi-Wan inquired. "Not possible, friend. What's going on?" The master inquired. "You said to call you if I needed help." "And you find that you do?" "Very much so. Do you know anything about this garbage going on in Ero Phelian and Eab Nanoorn?" Obi-Wan asked. Suddenly his screen was filled with the anxious face of Master Crowe. "What have you got?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that, but replied "I have some information about a possible situation out that way." Kourt gave a steady look at the Padawan, seeming to study the scene behind him. "Where are you?" Obi-Wan looked around Granger's bar and tried to think of a proper way to explain the establishment. His eyes fell on the group at the bar. "I believe it could accurately be described as a wretched hive of scum and villainy." "And you're calling me about rumors from this place?" Kourt suddenly sounded less receptive. "I ... didn't know what to do, Master. I have a round dozen criminals and cutthroats spilling their guts to me, asking for help from the Jedi. I'd say they're pretty serious about it. I thought ... well ... it doesn't look good." Obi-Wan shrugged. "Master Jinn says truth comes of desperation, in places like this. And money. I gave them some money, too ... " Kourt smiled. "Good! Okay, that does sound a lot more reliable. What have you got?" "There's a pile of transcripts here, do you want me to just send those?" Obi-Wan asked. "Yes, perfect. Fabulous. Remind me to tell your master he's trained you well," Kourt said, clearing him for data relay. Obi-Wan nodded, intending to do no such thing. "Here it comes." There was a blackout on the screen as the data transferred, then Kourt came back online. "I'll send this out to the Group operative immediately. Tell them we're out there and working on it. Make no promises, but get their agreement to help if we need it. Can you handle that?" Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Yes, Master Crowe." "Good. See you when you get home." The transmission ended. Obi-Wan shut his slate down and stretched, well aware of the many watchful gazes upon him. He waved Scratch over. "We're sending the information to the Jedi in that sector. We've got one of our specialists on it right now, but ... " He shrugged. "It's not good. We can't get ... our person ... into any of the places we need to go. Locked up pretty tight, you know." He pointed with his chin towards the group at the bar. "The ones we need to speak with aren't exactly Jedi-friendly." The conglomeration of lie and truth spilled out easily, from years of long practice. Scratch nodded and returned to the bar. There was a long conversation, parts of it at high volume, before Scratch returned. "We're willing to help," he said. "What can we do?" Obi-Wan put on his enigmatic look. "Nothing for now, except listen and watch and be ready. When we move, we move quickly. When we are still and silent, we are as the mountains." Scratch nodded slowly. "You all have a plan ready, but you can't move yet." Obi-Wan kept his expression bland. "Okay. Fine. Sit there and be a Jedi. You don't believe the Sith exist, you don't believe a word we've said!" Scratch growled. Obi-Wan studied his fingernails intently. "If I did not believe you, I would have told you. And I know there are still Sith about, or at least Dark Jedi, which pretty much amounts to the same thing. I killed one myself not a month ago. It's in the Temple records, if you're interested." Scratch sucked in his breath. "No," he whispered. "It would seem the problems of belief and faith were not within the Jedi, my friend." Scratch nodded slowly and returned to the bar. Obi-Wan focused on the emotions and reactions there as Scratch relayed his directives. There was some anger, lots of frustration, but an overpowering sense of resolve and militancy. Protectiveness. Need for action. Good. Scratch signaled to him that it was time to go and Obi-Wan followed him outside. The streets were dark, and the speeder was parked some few blocks away in a slightly safer area. As they walked, a tingle started at the base of Obi-Wan's neck. He glanced around, seeking the source of that tiny signal. He slipped his hand into his shoulder bag, preparing his less-obvious sidearm. No need to flash his lightsaber if it could be avoided. The shot came from ahead and to the left. Scratch threw himself into a doorway just as Obi-Wan dropped to his knee and fired his silent projectile with deadly accuracy. A moan and a thump told him he had been successful. He held his pose as he reloaded, scanning the area with every sense available to him. The tingling had stopped, so he rose to inspect his fallen foe. The would-be assassin had no identification on him, of course, but Scratch sucked in a breath as Obi-Wan turned him over. A rich, golden ichor flowed from the abdominal wound and no signs of life were evident. "Know him?" Obi-Wan asked. "Recognize him. He was outside the farmer's collective when we left ... I think," the Pilot hazarded. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and thought back to that afternoon. Scratch was right. He'd been slouching around, seeming to wait for someone or something, the whole time Obi-Wan had sat and waited for Scratch to finish up his personal resupply arrangements. "Okay, so was that a shot for you, or for me?" Scratch shrugged. "Let's go look." They left the body where it had fallen and went to inspect the blaster score upon the stone wall of the building. Obi-Wan eyed the angle and the street. "Well, he wasn't gunning for me, anyway. You got any enemies, man?" "You just spent all night hearing about them, Jedi," Scratch growled. "What was that you did to him? More Jedi tricks?" Obi-Wan laughed and shook his head no. He held his weapon out for the pilot's inspection. "Slingshot. No one EVER expects this." Scratch laughed with him. "And why would they?" Obi-Wan shrugged. "Master says 'Expect the unexpected and you'll never be disappointed.' I don't like to disappoint folk." Scratch threw his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I really need to meet this master of yours." The rest of the walk back to the speeder was uneventful, but Obi-Wan's mind was troubled. The killing had been necessary, but too fast. He might have just done in a major source of information, had he been able to get the being back to the tender mercies of Master Crowe. He sighed. *No use dwelling on the past, Kenobi. You did the best you could with a bad situation.* It seemed less than prudent to mention the incident to his shepherd, or to make note of it in his mission log. He'd lay it on Kourt when he got home, then the Council if Master Crowe thought it best. He glanced over at the pilot for a long moment, considering. If they'd come for him once, they might come for him again. Perhaps his companion might be of use ... Obi-Wan shivered. No matter how long or hard he trained, he could never get used to the idea of turning someone into live bait. Not that this would stop him, should it turn out to be necessary. *Skies send there will be another way.* ***************************** Obi-Wan dumped his pack onto his bunk with a sigh. The meeting with the pilots had taken a lot out of him, but now it was over. He had spent the entire ride home purging himself of pain and guilt for the violent exchange that had followed and made note of his progress in his the mission log. Even now, here in his room it was an effort to still his thoughts. He let the stress go, centered himself on the moment and gave himself over to the guidance of the Force, feeling himself still in much need of quiet meditation. He had an impulse to seek a more solitary place, somewhere away from the Bereak. The Temple door stood open now, but his three companions were all aboard the ship, so he'd have the place to himself. He headed out with that goal in mind. He smiled a little at that. There were many advantages to being a resident of the Temple at Coruscant, but there were any number of drawbacks as well. The main one, to Obi-Wan's way of thinking, was a total lack of privacy. Overpopulation didn't even begin to cover it. Although the Temple had been designed to create the illusion of aloneness for its residents, the fact remained that it was flatly impossible to get more than ten or twenty feet away from another being. Even if one had one's own room, like as not the rooms above and below, as well to either side would be occupied as well. For a Force-sensitive, it was like living in one huge, crowded room. There was always the pervasive sense that SOMEONE was nearby and watching. The other major problem was time. If one did find one's self on-planet for enough time to do what one chose, there were always pressing matters that ate that time up rather easily. If not preparations for a new mission, then a friend would be on-planet as well, someone who had been missed and would be missed again before time could be spent with them once more. There were choices to be made, and usually no truly acceptable solutions. Obi-Wan was ever deciding between having lunch with a friend or holing up to meditate on personal problems because there wasn't time to do both. Off-planet things got a little better. Even when mixed up in a complicated mission, the location was usually one where a person could get away, still the mind, be truly, calmly, quietly alone. It was a luxury to do so, and one Obi-Wan wanted to indulge in this very moment. The Temple at San Saloor was as silent as a tomb. There was dust everywhere, the windows were shuttered to protect against looters and it had been vacant long enough to have lost the sense of those who had once made it their home. Obi-Wan felt like he was stepping onto untrod ground, an emissary from the outside world with no one there to greet him. It was fascinating and calming at the same time. He let his inner senses guide him to the inevitable garden and he gasped when finally he entered them. Clearly this place had once been carefully tended, strictly laid out and maintained, but in absence of caretakers the plants had run riot. There were a large number of fruit trees, flowering plants, grasses and a sprinkling of weeds growing all together in a strange melange of vibrant freedom. Obi-Wan sank to his knees and breathed in the fragrant scent of some vine that had begun to dominate every surface in this end of the place. Perfect, silent paradise. The Perrys moon shone down upon him, and he tilted his face up to it, basking in its pale blue glow. After a long moment, he stood and began to strip. This was a pleasure he had often dreamed of, but never found the opportunity to indulge. Once he was bare of clothing he knelt, turning his face up to the moonlight. The cool night air caressed his body, drawing his attention back into himself, his place under the stars. Focusing himself on his inner questions and delayed turmoil, he sent his question out into the Force. "What am I to do?" He breathed slowly, fixing his eyes on the grasses before him. The Force pulsed and writhed as it filled him, a sort of wildness to it that he had never felt before. He closed his eyes to get a better focus on it. A heartbeat later it seemed as if his thoughts incandesced with sudden, blinding brightness and his awareness was *shoved* towards the reply.