. Bonds of Choice #6 Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series by HiperBunny (message 1 of 3) +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Obi-Wan awoke to his master shaking him gently. It was dark in their shared tent, still well into the night. "Come with me to the 'Fortnight Gannet', Padawan. I need your help." Qui-Gon turned to exit. Obi-Wan was in his boots and clothes a moment later, hands tying back the braids he still had not found time to remove since their little foray into the crystal purchasing business. "What's wrong, Master?" "I don't know that anything is wrong. I'm receiving a very strange transmission from Coruscant. I was hoping you could explain it. The nights on Renal Sejon were cool and surprisingly bug-free. Silence hung over the city of tents as the Jedi made their way to the starship Fortnight Gannet. The total quiet of the Kurasians had taken a while for Obi-Wan to get accustomed to in the weeks since his taking the Semsha Rite. Qui-Gon and the perimeter guards were the only beings to break the unofficial curfew. Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan aboard the Gannet and directed him into the conference room, where the holocam was projecting a live feed. Obi-Wan approached the comm unit, surprised to see the blue holo was of Corubia. She was wearing a ridiculous costume and an even more outrageous wig, but he paused when he heard the transmission. She was singing a single line over and over Prempt chaptel aun lue Prempt chaptel aun lue "Do you know. . ." Qui-Gon began. Obi-Wan waved to him for quiet and turned the volume up. He took his place before the comm unit and sang on the counterpoint. L'haum shanj Le'ihaum shanj Corubia looked relieved and continued with her song. Cren shektel aun lue Frena tain aun lue Aoum bol El'oum bol Etraj She held the last note, crystal clear and aching. Qui-Gon had heard the two friends sing before, but had never heard a performance quite like this. He was totally unfamiliar with the language, but got the feeling that she sang of lost love, hopeless, unrequited affection and a cruel universe that spared no thought for the hopes of the young. When Obi-Wan's strong voice joined hers, Qui-Gon felt a lump form in his throat. Pre'nt-al-sen aun lue Fret-pashef aun lue Haum'et fren Haum es fren Mesnaj The melody was haunting, filled with a longing, an ache of emotion that left Qui-Gon breathless. They sang then in chorus, voices joined as vine to branch. Obi-Wan raised one hand towards the holo, as if he would try to touch Corubia. She did the same. Kenra mejha en sua Prectalat enghe sua Uhm laun hoyd Hoyd shanpt sheran Nuei shan-shen-dreanji! Obi-Wan ended the transmission. "Corubia says that Cord Random found out where those crystals ended up. The Council is taking no chances. They feel two Masters will fare better where one failed, so Master Torlamin has been assigned to come help us. She and Corubia are bringing the information we need. They'll be arriving on a supply freighter tomorrow afternoon." "And what language was that, exactly?" Qui-Gon wanted to know. "Oh, that wasn't a language, really. See, when we were little, Cor and I were convinced we'd end up partners when we grew up. We made up this code, I guess you'd call it a secret language. Kid stuff, really. It's a tonal variation on the Synergetic poems," he took up a lightslate from the console and wrote out the key. "See, you just take the 'sheptelsou' and the 'louivesou' and modify the tense forms, like so…then alter the poem-lines. Mispronounce everything, sing it, then all you need is the code of meanings for the poems." He pulled up the file, years old now, that cataloged the secret meanings to certain lines of poetry. "Anyway, the Council needed a really secure way to get this message to us. What better to use than a code only two kids know?" Obi-Wan was blushing. "And you always sing it? Amazing. When did you do all this?" "I was, um, like, nine or ten, I think. It sort of built over time. We were kids playing Jedi Master. Besides, we sound okay together. Well, I used to think we did." Obi-Wan stopped, embarrassed. A huge yawn took this opportunity to assert itself. " Master, may I go back to bed? I'm supposed to be on the hunt tomorrow." "Yes, of course. Sleep well, Padawan. I'll be there shortly," Qui-Gon lied. *************************** The hills beyond the encampment provided a beautiful view of the night sky. Qui-Gon stood, slowly turning, trying to find a certain pattern in the stars above him. It was doubtful that the one he sought would come clear to him. He had searched for it every night since Obi-Wan's passing of the Semsha. *Where are you, Warrior, when I really need you? You plague my dreams and will not show yourself. * It was becoming more and more obvious to him that things could not go on as they were. Obi-Wan's emotional stability was getting better, but was still at an alarming negative. *If only I could be sure I know what I'm doing here. If only I had some sign that I can guide him in the way he should go. If only I knew the lessons I teach him are the right ones, that I am not ignoring the true path out of overblown self-assurance. * But such assurances were not forthcoming. Doubt hung heavily in Qui-Gon's mind as he struggled to find truth, peace, confidence in himself that was rooted in fact rather than his own perception. *Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I begin to think I should have waited to take up with him, waited to show him my feelings. There is no turning back now. To break with him, or put him off would utterly destroy what little progress I've made. I can't do that to him. It is a cruelty even I am not capable of. * But perhaps Obi-Wan would be better off without the affection Qui-Gon had for him. The love. He seemed so loath to even think on it, much less accept it. For himself, Qui-Gon was hurt, and deeply, knowing his Koateleu refused to accept his love. *Or is that your Pride again, Jinn? How do you know you're such a prize?* Qui-Gon sighed. *Is my regard so worthless? Am I so flawed and despicable as to be completely unacceptable to him? * One thing that kept him going was the fact that Obi-Wan wore a particular ribbon twined about his left ankle. Some weeks before a hair ribbon had disappeared from Qui-Gon's bedside table, undoubtedly in the hands of his Padawan. Some days after that Qui-Gon had spied a similar ribbon on his Koateleu's person. He was certain his student was wearing it as a sign, a mark of some sort. Of what, Qui-Gon knew not, but he hoped with every fiber of his being that it was an indicator that Obi-Wan had not completely rejected his love for all time. Hoped, endlessly. Nights were becoming especially hard for the Master. Obi-Wan continued to sleep apart from him, clearly defining their relationship, or lack of one. Marking his space, his time, his withdrawal from Qui-Gon. Even after they had made love, Obi-Wan removed himself from Qui-Gon's embrace before surrendering to sleep. No explanation had been offered and he could not bring himself to ask. Soft footfalls alerted him that he was no longer alone. He called "Obi-Wan?" though he already knew it was not he. "No, it is Murana. I came to see if you needed anything," the Nurian was little more than a shadow figure on this moonless night. "I am fine," he lied. "You stand here, alone, for hours every night. The guards worry for you. Share your concerns with me, Qui-Gon Jinn. Your burden will be lighter for it." Qui-Gon considered the offer. Many hours he had wished for nothing more than Kourt Crowe to come and speak with him. Perhaps his wish had been partially granted… "I'm lost," he heard himself say. "I am broken. I can not find my way home." Murana searched the stars for a long moment before replying. "Forgive me if what I say is offensive. It is possible that I misunderstand what I see. But to my eyes, your home lies sleeping in your tent." Qui-Gon laughed humorlessly, turning from her. "He does not know me. He turns me away at every instant. I know not how to make myself acceptable in his eyes." Once more he searched the skies for a Warrior constellation. "What do you seek?" she asked. "A pattern of stars, one in the shape of a humanoid. I have always found comfort, inspiration in them. Of course, there is not one in these skies that I can find. Not in this season." Qui-Gon sat down, wrapped his arms around his legs and kept searching. "Why is that? Is it your…belief?" Murana did not seem sure of the word. "Not in a religious sense, no. But my Master once told me a story about the Uraen constellation of Coruscant. She said that we Jedi were as that Constellation, warriors who watch over all, ever protecting and ever apart from those we protect. I have a great deal of pride in knowing I can protect those who can not protect themselves. It is the only thing I have ever known. It is one of the few things I can still feel honest pride in." Qui-Gon explained. "Obi-Wan has been your student for ten years or more, yes? You take no pride in him?" she asked. "I dare not. I have taken great care to protect him from all harm that I could. " Qui-Gon sighed and lay back in the grass. "Murana, I am…a failed Master. By rights I should have been cast from the Jedi some thirteen years ago. My pride, my belief that everyone was lost except me…I destroyed my student, the one I had before Obi-Wan. It was my pride that destroyed him. I can not protect Obi-Wan from that, just as I could not protect Xanatos." "Indeed, you can not. He must protect himself. I have seen him on the training field. He is more than up to the task." "It isn't physical danger I fear for him, but something more…elusive. I must seem absolutely schizophrenic to him as I am now. On the one hand, the driving, relentless Master, ever correcting, ever teaching, ever judging, never satisfied. On the other, just a man trying to love him and failing utterly. He does not seem to know that he is all I could hope for in a companion. There are few who could keep up with me, you understand, even in the Order. Yet he does. He keeps up with me, outdistances me if I don't pay attention. I want to show him how deeply pleased I am at all he does. But how to be proud of what he is, without being proud of myself for having a hand in it? I can not allow myself to be controlled by pride. Yet without my approval, how is he to know he does well? I can not tell him. I dare not, except in small ways, petty words. And now there are dreams…" Qui-Gon shuddered, recalling the latest addition to his night time worries. "Tell me of your vision," Murana encouraged. Qui-Gon smiled at how smoothly she fell into the role of councilor. It was comforting to be listened to. He chose to accept that comfort. "I dreamed I was a being of stars, the Warrior. I looked down and saw my student at the bottom of a deep pit. He was trapped, hurt, hungry but still fighting, still trying to find his way free. I knelt down to help him and found myself just as powerless as he was. And then he wept over me as the life drained from my body. I died because I could not help him." Qui-Gon felt foolish saying all this out loud. "You say you knelt to help him?" Murana pressed. "Yes, I stepped from the sky to be nearer to him, knelt down to help him from the place that had caught him." Murana stroked her lip. "I can give you the meaning I see, in the Kho. You are not of the People, yet you have shared our tents and our hospitality. Perhaps what I see can help you, though you are none of ours. It may not be so…we share none of your blood." "I understand." "Obi-Wan is as you are. In what way, I know not. But you are strong, powerful, you would be a great leader if you were not Jedi. There are those folk, both individual and whole races who would accept you as their ruler simply because of what you hold within you. But that is not your path, nor is it Obi-Wan's." She paused to think. During her silence, Qui-Gon considered a nearly-forgotten conversation with Lrakin Jackee Rilka. She had shown signs of worry that he might take her clan, though he was not of her people. It seemed obvious to her that he could do so if he chose. Only his word of honor that he had no desire to do so had calmed her worry. He wondered what other cultures saw him thusly. Murana broke his train of thought. "I would say that you are what your dream says. You are a being of the Stars, a Master, a Warrior, a protector of the helpless with much pride to see you along your path. I would also say that Obi-Wan is in a pit, made of his belief that he is unworthy of any love or kindness. You stand at poles, at extremes." she paused, cast about for the proper word. "What is it, those meditations you do, that makes you both fair gleam with energy?" "Centering. We find our place in the Force and within ourselves where we feel most balanced," Qui-Gon simplified. "Yes. You are not in your center. He is in despair, crushed by self-loathing and knowledge of his own flaws. You are crippled by a surfeit of pride, which you struggle to contain, control, prevent from blinding you to your own faults. You surely must know what is to be done. I suppose you'll need your peace to do so." Murana bowed and retraced her steps towards the camp, whistling the signal for 'all safe.' *A being of stars, * Qui-Gon mused. Indeed, Obi-Wan was such a one. His Potential was…awe-inspiring to say the least. His personal abilities often left Qui-Gon amazed. There had never been one so capable of matching Qui-Gon strength for strength. None had stood beside him so and never faltered or failed. Even Kourt Crowe had eventually left his side to find a simpler path. *What is the answer? I kneel to help…no. That is the problem right there, you old fool. * And the puzzle came clear to him, mesmerizing in it's simplicity. * I can not pretend that what I have done matters not. It matters everything in the world. It can not be changed, only learned from and let go. I must find the balance, the strength that would make up for my weakness." Again Qui-Gon looked into the night sky, searching, searching for an arrangement that would fall together in a particular way. As he watched, one of the thousand lights twinkled, drawing his eye to it just so. *There. * The Warrior shone above him, shoulders, belt, feet, just barely recognizable. Only acceptable to the eyes that needed so much to see it. And then he realized why he'd had such a difficult time finding it. A duplicate stood beside it. *What better remedy for my pride than the humble soul within my Koateleu? What better remedy for his feelings of unworthiness than the pride for him that burns within me? * ********************* Qui-Gon stopped off at the Gannet to send one last message off for Coruscant. When finally he arrived the tent was filled with the soft glow of a single lightchip and Obi-Wan's lightslate. He paused to admire the way the long auburn braids hung about the younger man's face. *I just might miss those when they're gone.* "I thought you were going to sleep, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon shrugged out of cloak and sat to remove his boots. "I waited for you," Obi-Wan shrugged and shut down the slate. "Now that I know you are safe, I'll to dreams." "Thought you I was in danger?" Qui-Gon asked, surprised. "No, my Master. But it did not keep me from worrying that you might be. It is my duty to protect you and be with you should need arise. I am uncomfortable when I can not see to my duty," Obi-Wan explained. "Tonight it was your duty to rest for training tomorrow," Qui-Gon reminded him. "Then I have failed you doubly, my Master. Good night." Obi-Wan's voice wavered slightly as he spoke. "No, my Koateleu, you have not failed me. You have honored me deeply with your care." Qui-Gon moved to kneel beside Obi-Wan's bedding. He paused, biting his bottom lip, considering. Obi-Wan was rather particular about what would be allowed to happen in his bed. Never had Qui-Gon been invited to share it and only occasionally would their sexual explorations end in a night of sleep together. Care was called for. "May I kiss you, Obi-Wan?" "Do you think I would turn you away?" Obi-Wan reached up to pull his partner in for an embrace. Qui-Gon murmured against parted lips, "Better I ask than assume, my Koatel. And so much the sweeter that you choose to gift me with your permission." They kissed slowly and deeply, Qui-Gon not quite daring to lay down with Obi-Wan. After a long moment Obi-Wan pushed him away. "Sleep, my Master. I've an early morning tomorrow." "Yes, Obi-Wan. Would you care to sleep a little warmer tonight?" Qui-Gon was well aware that he was pushing his luck. "If it please you, Master, I'd rather sleep less crowded." Qui-Gon gave one last peck before retreating to his own bed. They had fallen into the habit of speaking formally with one another. It seemed the Kurasians were far more touchy, more formal than even the most hidebound Jedi. When folk of differing rank mixed, they entered into a ballet of propriety that grated on Qui-Gon's nerves. Inferiors gave over to their superiors in all things at all times as a matter of course. Obi-Wan could have been tucked into Qui-Gon's robes and taken before the skies and everyone, and not a word said by anyone if Qui-Gon so ordered it. It was not the sort of atmosphere Qui-Gon would have wished for his student even at the best of times. Kurasians. Qui-Gon settled himself to sleep, trying to swallow the bitter taste that they brought to his mouth. He and Obi-Wan would have long quit this planet if there had been any other suitable hidey-hole nearby. This culture had slowly revealed itself to be…not one the younger Jedi should be long near. Qui-Gon's like of them had begun to waver the night before the Semsha rite, at dinner. The Nes'Nurians were far too subservient, too cowed for folk their age. They SEEMED happy enough, or at least were not showing any outward evidence of long abuse…but inwardly they were a mixed lot. They lived in fear of their teachers and with good reason. Harsh words and gestures abounded when there was not physical punishment. When, as so often happened, physical punishment was deemed appropriate, it was swift, cruel and without mercy of any sort. That was enough to turn Qui-Gon's stomach, but he did not attempt to intervene. In many cultures apprentices were treated so and there was nothing to be done for it. He did make his displeasure known to the Nurians, informing them that a report would be made when he returned to Coruscant, but he doubted the Republic would do much about the situation. The truth of this made him sick at heart as well. Then he discovered why he and Obi-Wan were constantly in the company of a Nurian or Nes'Nurian. He had been walking through the weaver's part of camp when he heard a child's cries. He had gone to investigate. One of the master weavers had been shouting at a boy of about eleven years, castigating him for some mistake or another. The weaver had paused long enough to bid Qui-Gon good day before returning to his diatribe. Then he had raised his hand to strike the boy and Qui-Gon had seen enough. He had scooped the boy up and carried him off to Obi-Wan for safekeeping. A pitched battle had been fought over the incident, the weaver demanding Justice and Qui-Gon calmly informing him that justice had already been served. Eventually the Nurians had broken the conflict up, citing the fact that a Jedi probably knew more about justice and order than a weaver. Still, Qui-Gon heard the anger in their voices, knew they wished he had left it alone. Apologies had been made all round, but the point was clear. No violence or degradation had occurred amongst the 'civilians' since. At least, not that Qui-Gon had been able to discover. He had kept an eye out. But the Nurians seemed to think themselves above or beyond his influence and continued as they had before. The Jedi Master had begun to idly wonder what measures would have been necessary to rescue the children only and leave the adults in the hands of slavers all those long weeks ago. He wondered, often and with much care, if rescuing them had been kindness or cruelty. No answers were forthcoming. Nor were solutions for the current situation, beyond getting himself and his Padawan out of their company and on with their mission. Only Murana Nurian stood out from the group. She was often excluded from Nurian activities, as was her student. Jenka seemed more confused than anything at her teacher's failure to use harsh discipline with her. Qui-Gon felt for the girl, knew she must feel the difference between herself and the other Nes'Nurians, but could only applaud Murana's actions. He only hoped they would not alter when Jenka was more fully healed from her time of enslavement. It was this pair alone that kept him from giving up on the Kurasians in total disgust. Not that the Nurians had been without their uses. He had spent much time exploring the Moment and speaking with them on what they knew of La'Karata's vision of the Sith that he and Obi-Wan sought. Everything he learned from them and the Force pointed to only one conclusion. Battle. Hard, dangerous battle between his Obi-Wan and the Sith. Once this had been accepted, he had pared Obi-Wan's training routine down to an almost exclusive routine of combat, combat, combat. The Nurians had offered to help in Obi-Wan's training, threw themselves into it, really. The Jedi suffered no lack of sparring partners, ones with whom Obi-Wan could cross Kho'la'bo or mind. Now that his telepathy was strong and under his total control, Qui-Gon had begun teaching him how it might be used in a battle situation. Obi-Wan had mastered the technique as swiftly as he had ever mastered any weapon. His mind was capable of cutting through shields, weaving false thoughts to confuse an attacker, ransacking an opponent's mind for information with the delicacy of a pickpocket or the brutality of a barbarian. He had also lost some of his discomfort for speaking mind-to-mind with Qui-Gon, but had closed up tighter than a clam to anyone else on-planet. It seemed his distaste for Kurasian ways was as strong as Qui-Gon's. He took no small amount of pleasure at defeating them on the training field, whatever the manner be. He did not grant them the courtesy of withholding his Force capabilities, either. Rather, he drew on those abilities almost constantly, strengthening himself and sometimes his Master as well. In single combat Obi-Wan was more than formidable. When the Jedi fought as a team, they were unstoppable. Time was short, of that Qui-Gon was certain. They had just a scant handful of days, three weeks had been his best estimate, and that time was nearly gone. He sincerely hoped that when the time came, he and Obi-Wan would face the Sith together, side-by-side as was meant to be. But the Force and all reports from the Nurians said otherwise. All signs pointed towards a conflict in which Obi-Wan would be forced to stand alone and rely on his own abilities to succeed. Qui-Gon had thrown himself in preparing his student to do just that. He dare not hope that he would be there to defend and protect when the time came. He closed his eyes with a sigh, releasing his misgivings into the Force. Torlamin and Corubia would be here on the morrow. At last he could be free of this place.