Jedi Council Forums - The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter 9 *Updated 23/09/08*

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Author	Topic: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter 9 Updated 23/09/08
NYCitygurl Title: Manager of SFFBC, C&G, and NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 11/11/06 5:54am Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter One
	Wow!! That's not cool!!! Is Obi-Wan really dead?? Poor Gui-Gon, though, having to watch /feel it happen. Though since Obi went unconcious before the explosion, I'm wondering if he wasn't somehow taken away before the ship blew up . . . You're doing a really good job!! I especally liked the huimor at the beginning of the story. Yoda's stews must taste awful. If you're starting a PM list, I'd like to be on it -----signature----- "Not till the moon falls. Not till the world ends."
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Glenstorm Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 11/11/06 2:49pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two - Date Edited: 11/11/06 3:33pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Glenstorm
	Here we are folks! The next installment. Sorry it's so long between updates but this story is writing itself as it goes along. So please be patient with me. Now I'm going for a cup of so I can start work on the rest of it. Chapter Two The smell of bacta was the first thing that struck Qui-Gon as he woke. That alone told him that he was in the Healer's wing. Again. Though he couldn't recall the reason for being here yet. The memory danced away from him, refusing to be captured by his waking thoughts. But his left shoulder was sore and he had a splitting headache. A knot at the back of his skull throbbed unmercifully. Well, what ever had happened, he was here and alive at least, that was the important thing. His memory would come to him in its own time. He wouldn't waste time worrying about it. With a mental sigh Qui-Gon began to wade through his unconsciousness towards the light of the waking world. No doubt he would find a certain starving and sleep deprived Padawan sitting by his bedside as he always did. He found it odd that he could not sense Obi-Wan as he woke. His mind was strangely. . . empty but Qui-Gon could put that down to the fact that he did not yet know the extent of his injuries. He might be weaker than he thought. Not that he would let the healers know that. Finally, fighting against the lead weights that seemed to want to hold them closed, he managed to open his eyes and found himself looking up at the familiar view of a stark white ceiling. He gave a slight smile. Nothing ever changed here. The healers really ought to think about repainting, it did get tedious waking up to the same plain white tiles. But that was not the important thing at the moment. Slowly Qui-Gon turned his head to the side, letting his eyes fall to the seat next to the bed. And froze. The faint smile he had been forming falling unused on his lips. For the chair was empty. Instead his eyes came to rest on those of the ward's head healer standing just to the side. “Talan?” The healer gave a sad smile. “Qui-Gon. How are you feeling?” “Sore. But otherwise I'm fine.” That said Qui-Gon let his eyes fall once more to the empty chair. “Where's Obi-Wan? Did you finally resort to sedating him this time? Or did you have Mace lock him in our quarters?” The healer's expression faltered. “Qui-Gon?” “Obi-Wan. You must have done something drastic for him not to be here—” Qui-Gon cut himself off as he saw the healer sink into the vacant seat and place a shaky hand over his mouth. “Talan, what's wrong?” “Qui-Gon, what,” the healer swallowed, “what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” Qui-Gon frowned at the question but started to answer. Doing his best to gather together the pieces of his ragged memory, he closed his eyes. “I was accompanying Obi-Wan to the landing platform. We were waiting for the Senator to arrive. . .” Qui-Gon trailed off as the memories started to come back more easily. He remembered the waiting, about teasing Obi-Wan for his nerves and regretting how close his Padawan was to taking his Trails. He remembered Senator Belar and their meeting, remembered exchanging the parting words with Obi-Wan and watching until he too had disappeared aboard the transport before turning and walking away himself. And then. . . Then... Master! Qui-Gon's memory ignited. Bursting into flames behind the darkness of his eyes. He was turning. Running. The ground shook beneath his lurching feet. Pain, heat and anguish was all he could feel. Explosions, light and fire were all he could see. Obi-Wan! Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. He found himself unable to breathe as if all the air was sucked from the room. , his senses flailed out wildly for his Padawan. But there was nothing. Just a yawning emptiness in his mind where Obi-Wan had once been. Talan saw the flames branded in Qui-Gon's eyes and answered the anguished gaze now boring into his own. “There was a bomb,” he said. “No one yet knows the reason for the attack, but an explosive was planted somewhere upon the senator's transport. The whole ship was destroyed. There-” the voice faltered. “There were no survivors.” Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands, denying with his very being what he was hearing and remembering. Trying repeatedly to get past the emptiness he felt to reach his Padawan. He had to be there somewhere. Had to be! But the healer kept up his nightmare speech. And Qui-Gon had not the strength to shut him out. Talan gathered his shaky composure. “You were found near the wreckage, unconscious and badly burned. Once it was safe to move you you were brought back here to the Temple. I'm sorry, Qui-Gon.” He reached into his robe and withdrew a blackened object. “This was all that could be found. Understand that many were burned beyond recognition, few have been identified. But there was only one Jedi aboard.” Talan placed the object upon the bedside table. “I think you should have this.” Qui-Gon stared at the object with numb eyes. It was the charred remains of a lightsaber. Tears began to slide down Qui-Gon's face. Raw and unhindered. With a trembling hand he lifted the scorched cylinder. The metal was cold beneath his fingertips as he gently wiped away some of the soot marring the once shiny surface. The ministrations confirmed what he already knew. Qui-Gon choked back a sob as the confirmation was burned into his heart. The saber was Obi-Wan's. If he were blind he would know it. Qui-Gon clutched the blackened hilt to his constricted chest and wrapped his numb fingers about it. The very centre of his world was gone and now the rest of it was collapsing into the vacuum that it had created. His body began to tremble from the force of the shock. Forgotten, Talan began to retreat, there was nothing more he could say or do that would help. The Master now needed time to come to terms with what had happened. Time and space. Turning he walked from the room, leaving Qui-Gon alone with his grief and all that remained of his Padawan. * Three days went by but Qui-Gon barely noticed, he just lay staring at the floor or the wall with no real awareness of the passage of time. He wasn't even aware that his body was healing against his will. But by the fourth day the healers declared that he was well enough to leave their care. But Qui-Gon did not wish to leave. He did not want to face the Temple outside. The memories it held. The sympathetic looks. Even the healer's wing seemed to hold too many memories. Qui-Gon had steadfastly kept his gaze away from the empty chair beside his bed. If he looked at it he feared he would crack and lose the mask of composure he had so struggled to build over these past days. He would not let them see him brake down again. And if he couldn't face a chair, how could he return to their— to his quarters. At first the healers relented out of sympathy but as the days rolled on they decided that enough was enough and that it was time Qui-Gon faced the world outside. Accepting his loss like any Jedi would. There was no death. And so Qui-Gon now faced the doors that would release him into the Temple beyond. Even now he hesitated. His trembling palm hovering uncertainly over the lock. But he could not put it off any longer. As the healers had said, he was a Jedi. It was time to start acting like one. Drawing a deep breath into reluctant lungs, Qui-Gon palmed the door open. And with his entire being screaming beneath a skin of composure he stepped into the passageway beyond. It was mid-afternoon and the Temple corridors were busy. Everything looked familiar and as it should. Except to Qui-Gon's eyes nothing would ever be the same again. All the beauty was diminished, the soul taken away. He resented the normality around him. How dare life go on as if nothing had happened. As if Obi-Wan had not been stolen away from him in a pointless attack. But of course it did no matter what he wished. Knights strolled by going about their daily business. Carefree younglings rushed past on the way to their next classes, laughing and gaming joyfully, evading for the moment the stern looks of their Masters. And it seemed that every where he looked, every place he saw held some memory of Obi-Wan. There. A window where they had once stood together, watching the sun set after surviving a particularly dangerous mission, just savouring the gift of being alive. And there. A place where Obi-Wan had greeted him after he had been away on a long solo assignment. He could almost see his Padawan there now. Blue-green eyes lit with that understated joy at seeing his Master safely returned. So strong was that sight in Qui-Gon's mind that every thing else seemed to fade away for a moment and he found himself taking an unconscious step forward— “Master Qui-Gon?” Qui-Gon flinched and blinked. Trembling he came back to himself. His hungry sight cleared and the space before him was as cold and empty as it had ever been. His Padawan was not there. And never would be again. Qui-Gon could take it no longer. Ignoring the speaker and regardless of the stares he drew, he pulled his hood down over his face so that it prevented him from seeing anything but the ground upon which he forced his feet to walk. * Over the next days Qui-Gon haunted the Temple like a lost spirit. Day and night. Pointless and meaningless hours spent in blank, empty existence. Minute after minute in which he could find nothing to do but grieve for Obi-Wan and count off the minutes that he had spent without him. Existing, merely existing. Mourning so deeply he was barely taking care of himself He didn't dare return to his quarters. Or sleep. Flames lurked behind his closed lids waiting to strike. And a voice, crying out for him until it was cut dead. A voice he would have given his own life to save. A voice he had failed. And because of that he would never hear it again. Why had he not foreseen something? Done something different. Kept Obi-Wan back for a moment longer. Run faster. He tortured himself ruthlessly with these questions. Thrusting himself onto the sharpened knife of his own guilt, because it was preferable to all the other shards of pain he was feeling. Worst of all was that Obi-Wan had known. His Padawan had told him that he felt something was amiss. But he had not really paid attention. He had still let him go. Now Obi-Wan was dead, his body reduced to ash and dust. Like Qui-Gon's own heart. Both lost to the same inferno. A choked sob escaped his throat. Qui-Gon had never needed anything as much as he needed Obi-Wan, here, now. But he was not there. Another sob hitched in Qui-Gon's throat as he remembered the excruciating moment when he had felt his Padawan's life-force torn from him, the harsh rupturing of their bond, the emptiness that had replaced the profound connection he and Obi-Wan had shared. Gone. Forever. And so Qui-Gon wandered. Existing. Merely existing and not caring where he ended up. Finally in an hour close to dawn, two days since he had left the healers, Qui-Gon found himself standing next to a long arched window overlooking the city below. Wearily he leaned against it, distantly welcoming the cool glass against his tired face. Outside the endless Coruscant traffic streamed past and the hypnotic lights mesmerized his hollowed eyes. Maybe it was his weariness that made him less alert or maybe it was the numb void he had fallen into. But for whatever reason, the soft touch to his shoulder made him start. He had not been aware of any approach. “Qui-Gon?” Mace's voice. Qui-Gon kept his eyes on the view outside, hoping the other Master would take the hint and leave. He did not want company. No such luck. “Qui-Gon.” The tone gained a bite of command. Slowly Qui-Gon turned his gaze on the council member. Lifeless eyes settled on the dark face half hidden by shadows. Whatever Mace had expected, what he actually saw appeared to shock him. “You look terrible.” Qui-Gon's smile was bitter. “Surprised?” Mace chose not to answer. Instead he moved to the window so he could look out with Qui-Gon. “I am sorry about Obi-Wan,“ he said after a moment. “His death came as a great shock and is a terrible loss to the Jedi. I know Yoda always saw a great deal in him. He will be sorely missed.” Qui-Gon closed his eyes to shield against the tears. Sorely missed? Was that all? When Qui-Gon had a gaping wound inside him so big he wasn't sure he could survive it. Mace watched him carefully. “Have you been back to your quarters since you left the healer's wing.” “No.” “Slept?” “No.” Mace sighed. “You need to rest, Qui-Gon. The Council is very concerned for your well being. Go back to your quarters.” Qui-Gon wanted to retort that he didn't care what the council thought. “I can't—” “Why?” Mace pried. “Because it will remind you of Obi-Wan?” Heart laid bare, Qui-Gon hung his head and Mace had his answer. “Then go back and remember, Qui-Gon. You can't go on like this. I'm sure Obi-Wan would not want you to look back in pain. He would not want to see you like this. Wandering the halls gnawing on your grief and regret. He would want you to be happy.” Anger flared inside Qui-Gon and he wanted to snap back, to ask how he could possibly be happy now that Obi-Wan was gone. But Mace did not allow him to start. “Go home, Qui-Gon,” he ordered. “You cannot run forever.” With that he strode smartly away before Qui-Gon could react. *** Hours later Qui-Gon found that his treacherous feet had indeed brought him home to his quarters. He stopped and stared at the door for a long time. He was not ready to enter. He was angry at Mace for insisting that he return. He could not take the emptiness he would find within. Without Obi-Wan the rooms would be just a shell, robbed of life. But underneath all the broiling emotion he knew the Council Member was right. He could not run forever. Steeling his heart, Qui-Gon opened the door. The morning sun was streaming though the far window, bathing everything in what should have been a warm, welcoming light. But to Qui-Gon it was a harsh light, a mocking light, there to highlight everything he did not wish to see with a cruel sharpness. At this point he almost retreated. Almost turned and left. But somehow he stopped himself. Gathering the courage that had seen him through a thousand hardships Qui-Gon stepped inside. And instantly regretted it. The sight was worse than he had ever imagined. Nine years of memories with Obi-Wan seemed to seep from the very pores of the room. Memories of tears and laughter, of welcome and farewell, of joys and sorrows all playing out in a terrible dance before his mind's eye. And worst of all he realised that he had not cleared up after the morning that they had left for the transport. The plates from their breakfast still stood upon the table. The last breakfast Obi-Wan had ever made. Two mugs were still set out by the kettle. And there on the floor lay two cushions. The very cushions that Obi-Wan had thrown at him on the morning of their parting. Qui-Gon began to shake. He missed his Padawan so much it physically hurt. He was glad of the tears that now blurred his vision. Every gleaming shard of his shattered soul bleeding from his eyes to block out the sight that was killing him as surely as if someone had driven a saber through his heart. The shaking got worst until he lost the last shred of control he had fought for and he collapsed to his knees upon the floor. Obi-Wan's last cry echoed through him. Calling for him. And he would never get there. Master. Master. It was too much to bare and he began to keen his loss to the emptiness. Anyone listening to those raw cries would not have thought they listened to the voice of a Jedi Master or the voice of a hardened warrior, but rather to that of a broken man. A broken man who had forever lost his best friend. tbc... More soon! -----signature----- "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." Songfic writer addict! All of of my Fics and FanArt can be found in my bio
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AngryWarrior Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 11/11/06 3:24pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter One
	That is my feeling right now. Poor Qui-Gon, no one really understands the bond they had/have. I hope that Obi-Wan is not really dead and that its just a very powerful force suppressor that makes it seem like he is no longer of this world. Can't wait till more.
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Valairy_Scot Title: PT Rewrite Winner Registered: Sep '05	Date Posted: 11/11/06 4:34pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Good grief...I'm in mourning, too. Early in the story, here, He could almost see his Padawan there now. Blue-green eyes lit with that understated joy at seeing his Master safely returned. So strong was that sight in Qui-Gon's mind that every thing else seemed to fade away for a moment and he found himself taking an unconscious step forward— “Master Qui-Gon?” I thought Obi was coming back as a blue ghostie. Now, I'm not so sure, but he will be back. Right? Right! Slowly Qui-Gon turned his head to the side, letting his eyes fall to the seat next to the bed. And froze. The faint smile he had been forming falling unused on his lips. For the chair was empty. Ouch, that hurt. -----signature----- http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25405090/p3/?52 Prolific Author thread: list & links there. Muse fueled by coffee. Often AWOL despite frequent sipping. Writes on inspiration, not a schedule. Proud master of several padawans
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dianethx Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 11/11/06 5:08pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Oh, poor Qui-Gon to wake up looking for Obi-Wan and being told that he was dead. Then to have to go back to their quarters and see all the things that were there that last day. Great job. Looking forward to more. -----signature----- Betrayal - http://boards.theforce.net/s/b1/10935143 updated 9/22/08 Fragments of Illusion- http://boards.theforce.net/bts/b10475/28456473 updated 11/20/08 jedidas3's Master At last - Hope for our country
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General_Kenobi_66 Registered: Oct '06	Date Posted: 11/11/06 5:50pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two - Date Edited: 11/14/06 7:44pm (1 edits total) Edited By: General_Kenobi_66
	So sad! Please don't let him be dead! Sad, but very good. Thx for the PM stares at the screen in hopes of another post ~The General~ -----signature----- McCain/Palin '08 Everybody has a photographic memory. Some don't have film.
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NYCitygurl Title: Manager of SFFBC, C&G, and NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 11/11/06 5:52pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	That was so sad!!! But you did an amazing job exploring the depths of Qui-Gons pain, even though you about made me cry. I love the detail and description you put into it; I can really picture Qui-Gon's surroundings and sympathize with his emotions. Amazing job -----signature----- "Not till the moon falls. Not till the world ends."
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Force-sensitiveLyn23 Registered: Aug '05	Date Posted: 11/11/06 6:39pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two - Date Edited: 11/13/06 6:06pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Force-sensitiveLyn23
	This isn't true! Obi can't be dead!! This is so sad! I feel Qui's grief for him! Update soon and make sure Obi shows up alive, pronto. Or else i'll strangle you with Roger's plaid pants! ( sorry, a RENT joke) -----signature----- And all shall know the wonder of purple summer- Spring Awakening <3 Hannah
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Layren Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 11/11/06 7:53pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Master. It was too much to bare and he began to keen his loss to the emptiness. Anyone listening to those raw cries would not have thought they listened to the voice of a Jedi Master or the voice of a hardened warrior, but rather to that of a broken man. A broken man who had forever lost his best friend. Awwwwwww that was so heartbreakingly sad!! Please don't leave Qui in such misery... he needs his Obi to make it all better... hugs him If you've got a PM list, I'd like to be on it -----signature----- Proud Master to Ara-gon The Triad Chronicles http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/25934993/p1/?177 (OC's) Into Another Day http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27926050/p1/?0 2008 Dear Diary Challenge I am Jinngerbread.
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KILIK Registered: May '05	Date Posted: 11/11/06 8:47pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Talk about your personal hells ouch. Poor Qui-Gon. I still think Obi-wan is still alive that was just to easy. Be looking forward to the next part. Thanks for PMing me by the way. -----signature----- Living life and not looking back. Life could be a lot worse so stop ******** about it! Sometimes you just gotta sit down and play the music in order too enjoy it again. You can do anything as long you remember practice makes perfect and hard work pays off
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Gkilkenny Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 11/12/06 5:16am Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	I cannot believe you made us all cry, how could you do that to us. Yes...Yes.. I know your evil!! Your descriptions of Qui-Gon's pain and anguish was beautiful. The emotions pouring out when he entered their apartment was so good. Tell me do I need a box of Tissues Thanks for the PM -----signature----- Padawan to p_stotts Peace over anger - honour over hate - Strength over fear. Links to Stories in my Bio. Obi-Wan forever.
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Fifilla Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 11/13/06 12:39am Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Wow, such emotions! And so very sad! Poor Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan cannot be dead! Please, let him return! -----signature----- "There's always a bigger fish." Fear Of Failure - young Qui-Gon (WIP) > http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27642896 Padawan to Valairy_Scot
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KELIA Title: Fan Fiction Moderator Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 11/13/06 9:10am Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Two
	Oh that was brutal. Somehow I was hoping Obi-Wan managed to survive. Poor Qui. I hope he finds some peace. Great update -----signature----- "Do or do not, there is no try." Master Yoda A Light In The Darkness: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28150602/p1/?8 Undue Circumstances: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/28530583/p1/?10
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Glenstorm Registered: Mar '06	Date Posted: 11/18/06 6:26pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Chapter Three
	Hi, everyone. Thanks for reading, your responses always mean a lot. Anyway here's the next chapter as promised. I'm getting faster. Chaper Three Two weeks passed. No one was caught in association with the bombing of Senator Belar's transport. And no reason for it could be found. Belar's family were grieving and angry over the lack of progress in bringing the people responsible to justice. As a last resort they appealed to the Jedi for help in the investigations. That, along with the death of Obi-Wan, gave the Council reason enough to send a couple of Jedi to help the baffled security officers. Qui-Gon was not asked to join the team. The Council decided that he was too emotionally fragile and involved in the situation to be of any help. And they also feared what might happen if Master Jinn was the one to catch the perpetrators. As for Qui-Gon himself he did not give them much of an argument over it. He found it difficult enough to keep waking up each morning. To get out of bed and face another day alone. His days were spent in the sparring rooms, channeling all his energies into his training so that it would distract him from his aching loss. He exhausted himself so he wouldn't have to feel, wouldn't have to think, wouldn't have to dream. If he did he ran the risk of dreaming that Obi-Wan was still alive, and that would be far worse than any nightmare of his death. For he would wake up and be hit afresh with the cruelty of the real world. And despite what Mace had said, on most nights he was still to be found wandering the halls alone. He rarely returned to his quarters and when he did it was only out of necessity. He would go straight to his own room, never lingering in the living area. The door to Obi-Wan's room remained firmly closed. The Council kept a close eye on him, at a loss as how to ease his pain. Once, quite foolishly they had suggested that Qui-Gon think about taking another apprentice. There were lots of promising candidates that needed a good Master, they had argued. It might do him good to focus on the future and not dwell any more on the past. The results of that suggestion had been ugly to say the least. Qui-Gon would not take another Padawan as long as he lived. He had pretty much avoided contact with them ever since. Until one evening after another grueling day in the sparring rooms Qui-Gon found himself in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The sound of the water and the rustle of leaves always seemed to soothe him somewhat. Before he had lost Obi-Wan that was. But he hoped that it would still have that same power now. It seemed like forever and a day since Obi-Wan had last walked by his side and yet his grief was still as raw as if it had happened yesterday. Lowering his hood he knelt beside one of the pools and stared at the water. The spray of a nearby fall was cool on his tired face so he decided to tarry awhile. By and by he found himself focusing on the flow of the water. Its movement seemed to strike him some how, carrying along his thought in its endless current. So like the Force. Jedi had always believed that life came from the Force and when it was finished each soul returned there, strengthening the flow and adding to its beauty. There was no death only the Force, as the saying went. That was what he had been taught. But that was not how it had turned out. There was nothing there. The Force was as empty as if Obi-Wan had never been. Leaving him only with memories to prove that he had ever existed. He felt as if the Force had betrayed him and all that he believed in. Maybe that was why he could not let go of his grief like he should. Could not even begin to move on. The emptiness was gnawing at him like a ravening beast until he feared it would never stop. Not until he was consumed. Despairing, Qui-Gon dropped his head into his hands. “Find comfort in the water, do you?” came a familiar voice. Qui-Gon froze. Not now! “Know I'm here you do, so acknowledge me you might as well.” With an inward groan Qui-Gon raised his head. “Master Yoda,” he greeted stiffly. The old Master peered up at him carefully before grunting. “Unwell you look, my old Padawan.” Qui-Gon drew a breath, wishing for all the world that he had never come here. “I'm just . . . tired." The last word was uttered almost in a whisper. Qui-Gon knew that it was inadequate for how he really felt. No words could express how he felt now that Obi-Wan was gone. Now that he was alone. Silently Yoda stumped over to sit beside Qui-Gon. “Missing Obi-Wan you are.” It was not a question. Qui-Gon swallowed, trust Yoda to pry in to his feelings. “Yes.” Yoda's ears drooped. “Miss him we all do. But you most of all, I think. Special bond you had.” Qui-Gon lowered his head, resigning himself. “I feel like some vital part of me has perished and I am forever half of what I was without it.” “Learn to let go you must, Qui-Gon, or destroy you it will. Two weeks since the explosion it has been and cling to your grief you still do.” Two weeks, seven hours and ten minutes to be exact. He doubted if Yoda would want to know it to the second. Yoda laid one three fingered claw on Qui-Gon's arm. “At peace now he will be, Qui-Gon. With the Force. Time to start healing it is.” A cold shudder ran through Qui-Gon and he felt the first stirrings of anger. His legendary patience was worn thin. He was fed up with people telling him to move on, to let go of Obi-Wan. He just couldn't do it. And before he could stop himself harsh words were pouring from his mouth. “How can I possibly begin to heal?!” he asked, voice rising dangerously. “Obi-Wan is gone! I cannot even feel his presence there in the Force. It has taken him from me completely!“ His eyes pierced Yoda. “If there is no death why can I not feel him there?!” “Think do you that the Force behaves how we wish?” Yoda said calmly, unruffled by the outburst. Qui-Gon sagged, anger draining away as fast as it had come leaving him feeling exhausted and used up. “He is completely gone from me, Master,” he whispered. “I am . . . lost.” “If remember him you do, gone from you he will never be.” Qui-Gon closed his eyes, fighting back a tide of emotions. He wanted Yoda to leave so he could release the tears that wanted to fall. “But what I say matters not, my Padawan,” Yoda continued. “Only you can find the peace to go on.” Qui-Gon felt the ancient Master's considering regard. “Maybe a mission, do you good it would. Good distraction it would be.” Qui-Gon turned pained eyes on the little Master. Yoda sighed. “Up to you it is, Qui-Gon. When ready you are, mission we will have.” Yoda struggled to his feet. “For now, leave you here, I will. I hope some peace you will find.” With that the ancient little Master limped away leaving Qui-Gon to himself. For a long while he stayed by the sparkling pool but no peace found him. * Obi-Wan's memorial service was held exactly one month after the attack. Qui-Gon had no idea how he had survived these past weeks. But here he was. Still breathing. Qui-Gon looked at those gathered around him. All of Obi-Wan's friends and teachers here to pay their last respects to his Padawan. Many were in groups. Some were crying. Others were laughing at some memory. Qui-Gon stood apart from them all, hood drawn over his features so that they wouldn't have to see the drawn mask that his face had become. He scared himself sometimes if he looked in the mirror. The extra lines and silver threads in his beard all carved out and bleached by sorrow's merciless hand. The others stayed away from him, respecting his drawn hood as a sign for privacy, and for that he was eternally grateful. When the service started each of those present began to step forward in turn to say something for Obi-Wan. There was no body to mourn. It had already been burned without ceremony. Instead the focus of the speakers was on the charred hilt of a lightsaber, resting in honour upon a pedestal at the center of the room. Some spoke of their memories, some of what they would miss. Others gave amusing anecdotes that had the rest of the congregation laughing through their tears. And even in the midst of his grief Qui-Gon found his withered heart being touched by the sight of so many who had loved Obi-Wan, all rejoicing in his life and grieving over his death. And for a brief moment he didn't feel so alone. But Qui-Gon himself did not step forward. He couldn't. What ever he said about Obi-Wan would never be enough. He would be leaving so much more out. And that didn't seem right. An hour later and the number of speakers dwindled. The last one signaled the end of the service and shortly after and the room began to empty, the occupants walking away in thoughtful silence until Qui-Gon was the only one left. Finally alone he moved to the pedestal and knelt beside it. “Did you hear all of that, Obi-Wan?” he asked of the empty air. “If you did I can imagine the blush you would have right now.” Qui-Gon swallowed, just saying his Padawan's name brought fresh waves of agony that threatened to squeeze his throat closed. “You managed to touch so many lives in your short time, my Padawan. And none more so than my own.” He drew a shaky breath. “All those times I resisted you entering my life, and now . . . now I don't know how I'm going to live it without you.” The tears were now flowing freely down Qui-Gon's cheeks. “I miss–miss you so much.” His voice echoed off the walls of the empty rooms but the Force was silent. Not even a faint touch to balm his torn soul. Qui-Gon sighed. “Master Yoda suggested that I take on a mission in the hopes that it might distract me. Maybe I will, Obi-Wan. I don't know how many more times I can take turning round in our quarters and expecting that you're going to be there. Maybe it will be easier to get away for a while, away from the Council's scrutiny and their urges to take another Padawan. For I will not. You were the last." Qui-Gon rose to his feet. Drying his eyes he lifted the damaged lightsaber from where it rested and clipped it to his belt. He would carry it always. “Farewell, my Obi-Wan,” he whispered to the stillness, then he turned and walked from the room, going where ever his feet would take him. * On the planet Nagiri, in the mid Rim .. . Master Rilgora dropped his head into his hand and rubbed at his temples wearily. This whole investigation was proving to be a total headache. A month and a half of investigations and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. Using the bomb fragments recovered from the wreck, they had been able to trace the explosive to this planet on the mid Rim. The metal ores from this world were unique. It had been a starting point. But where were they supposed to go next? Who dealt in these explosives? Who might buy them? Who would take one as far into the Interior as Coruscant? And who would want to blow the ship of such a low profile Senator like Belar? Rilgora had his Padawan and all of the security officers assigned to him out there now, undercover, trying to track down all the black market weapons dealers on planet. The Jedi Master gave an audible groan and sank deeper into his seat. It was like trying to find a holocron in the Achieve on a cleaning day. He felt like chucking the data pad before him over his shoulder and as far away from him as possible. But that would be quite un-masterly. Time for a break. Rilgora rose stiffly from his seat. Some tea sounded really good right now. But barely had he gone two steps when the door to the small room burst open and in strode his Padawan. He still found it strange to see Nidara dressed in civilian clothing. But with or without Jedi robes he could not mistake the fact that she was very excited about something. “I've got it, Master!” she exclaimed waving another cursed data pad. “Here it is!” Rilgora hid his amusement at witnessing her youthful exuberance. “Slow down, Nidara!” he calmed her. “What have you got?” “A lead, Master!” she explained, curbing her impatience. “The most promising one yet.” Rilgora moved back to his seat at his desk and motioned Nidara to sit opposite him. “Show me what you have.” To be honest with himself he was as eager to find out what she had as she was to show it. “I managed to track down one of the weapons dealers down in one of the nearby towns. He deals a lot in our particular explosive and, though there are a lot of his sort about, I had a feeling about this particular villain so I decided to question him more closely. “He didn't really want to talk to me at first, but a slight nudge of the mind soon got around that little obstacle. “To cut a long story short I found out that he had a visit from a certain customer around a week before Senator Belar's ship blew up. A customer in the market for explosives. Our explosives in particular.” Rilgora's eyebrows quirked. “And who was this 'customer'?” he asked. Nidara grinned. “That's the best bit. He was a bounty hunter. A bounty hunter going by the name of 'the Cobra'. ” “I've heard of him,” said Rilgora steepling his fingers. “He's making quite a name for himself in these parts. Never fails to complete a job, or so I've heard.” “Well, he purchased several detonators from my dealer friend then made his way to a backwater spaceport a fair distance from the city. I dug around there for a while and found something very interesting. Guess where this bounty hunter's ship was bound.” Rilgora's eyes lit up. “Coruscant?” “Well, to the inner Rim anyway. I'd say its a safe bet that he was headed for the Capital.” “We shouldn't take anything for granted, Padawan.” Rilgora frowned. “But you're right. It's the best lead we have so far.” He looked up and smiled. “Good work, Nidara.” The Padawan fairly glowed under her Master's praise. “Now,” Rilgora got back to business. “How do we go about finding this Cobra fellow?” “That's the part I have yet to figure out, Master,” said Nidara. “Then we'd best get started. And along the way we may be able to find out what such a bounty hunter would want with the death of Senator Belar. . .” * * * Time, Qui-Gon mused as he made his way to the Council chambers, was a strange thing. It could run like water or stand like stone. It had the power to heal and the power to destroy. Creating and withering memory in its unstoppable flow. And like water on a jagged rock, it had the ability to wear away the sharp edges of pain, smoothing them away until they no longer rent the flesh. More than a month had passed now since he had lost Obi-Wan and sometimes Qui-Gon didn't know where the time had gone. But by and by he found that his grief was lessening gradually. The painful memories were still there, but the passage of time had muted and softened them. He could at least now enter his quarters without buckling under sheer raw emotion. Though, sometimes he would still see something that would twist inside him like a knife. Often something simple – a place where his Padawan liked to sit, a favourite cup. Qui-Gon had come to realise that people should appreciate the little things in life. For one day they would look back and find that they were the big things. But he was getting better. Each morning it was easier to pull himself out of bed and when he went to the dining hall, he actually ate something rather than herding his food listlessly around his plate. He started to talk with others, sharing memories and found that each time he did so his heart grew a little bit lighter. It was still forever changed, but at least now living was bearable. Finally Qui-Gon reached the doors of the Council Chamber and requested entrance. His call was answered almost immediately and the doors whisked open. Qui-Gon stepped inside and into the half circle of the waiting Councilors. “You requested my presence, Masters?” he said after giving a quiet bow. “Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda greeted. “Better you look,” he said approvingly. Qui-Gon nodded and waited for more. He hoped he hadn't been summoned just so the Council check up on how he was coping without Obi-Wan. He didn't need it. As if sensing his thoughts, Yoda was quick to lay his fears to rest. “Called you here we have,” said the distinguished Master, “for a mission we have for you, if ready for it you feel.” Surprised Qui-Gon paused for a long moment, searching inside himself. Was he ready? He did not want to make a hasty decision that he would come to regret. But in the end he gave a slow nod. He was still not sure, but then, would he ever be? Now was as good a time as any. “I'm ready, Masters,” he said. The Councilors' eyes grew distant but Qui-Gon could sense their gaze go through him, ascertaining the truth of his words. Qui-Gon lifted his chin and met their collective scrutiny with a steady stare. “Very well, Qui-Gon,” Mace said after a long moment had passed. “If you feel you are ready to go. The mission is based on the planet Angar. The planet is ruled over by two main kingdoms controlling the northern and southern hemispheres. The one that controls the northern hemisphere wishes to begin steps to join the Republic. The second power in the south does not. On their own they have not been able to come to an agreement. As a last resort the northern kingdom has appealed to the Senate for help and the Chancellor has decided to send a Jedi ambassador to meditate the situation. “We do not foresee any dangers in this mission but it will require a skilled negotiator to bring the two sides together. Would you be willing to accept this mission on behalf of the Council, Qui-Gon?” “Yes.” Mace nodded and held out a data pad. Qui-Gon stepped forward to take it. “The transport for Angar leaves in three days. You have until then to study the information provided. May the Force be with you.” It was clearly the end of the meeting. Bowing to the ring of Masters Qui-Gon turned and left the room. He had preparations to make. * * * The next day Qui-Gon found himself sat staring at the door to Obi-Wan's room. He had been that way for the last half hour, battling with his better judgement. He really ought to go in and sort through his Padawan's belongings before he left on his mission. But he didn't know if he was ready to do it. Entering his quarters had been bad enough. Could he really risk lapsing back into the dark place he had gone to after Obi-Wan's death. But, as with the mission, was there ever going to be a ready? With a sigh he rose to his feet. Best to get it over with. Slowly Qui-Gon approached the door, moving forward until it loomed before him like a great beast that needed to be defeated. He raised his hand to the lock. Shakily dropped it. Drew a breath. Raised it. And before he could hesitate again, slapped the control. The door whisked open and Qui-Gon stepped inside. Silence. The room was as silent as the grave. Qui-Gon shuddered at the thought and looked about. His heart ached. Here was his Padawan's most personal space, filled with all his few but treasured belongings, all set out and displayed in Obi-Wan's neat way. With a familiar prickling behind his eyes Qui-Gon moved through the room, taking in every little object. Along the far wall was a shelf filled with data pads from his Padawan's studies. Real books stood amongst them, books of tales that Obi-Wan had favoured as a wide eyed child. But Qui-Gon's eyes were drawn to the edge of the shelf where three models of Verpine fighters rested. Each of them crafted by a careful hand. His apprentice had made them as a boy and here they were still. People may never have really called Obi-Wan very sentimental but obviously even as he had grown older Obi-Wan had not wanted to part with some of his childhood hobbies. Disturbing the gathering dust, Qui-Gon lifted one of the models down, smiling sadly as he studied its details before finally replacing the priceless item to its rightful space on the shelf. Quietly the Master moved on. On the bedside table rested a couple of small rocks. Stones his Padawan had taken as souvenirs from their most memorable missions. A custom that had begun all those years ago on his thirteenth birthday. With the very first gift that Qui-Gon had ever given him. That particular rock was not present. Qui-Gon was not surprised. Obi-Wan had carried it everywhere with him in his tunic pocket. He would have had it with him when . . . when . . . Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut. This was getting too much. Taking several deep breaths and drawing on the Force he waited for his emotions to come under control. He had become very practiced at this exercise it seemed over the past weeks. A few seconds later he was able to reopen his eyes, and the watery windows roamed the room. He had come here with the intent of sorting through Obi-Wan's things, putting away those things he wished to keep. Now he found he could not do it. This place was a monument to the spirit that had left it behind, sculpted by the years Obi-Wan had lived here. Qui-Gon ran his hand down a spare cloak hanging on a nearby hook, caressing the fabric. Like every thing else in the room it still carried a trace of Obi-Wan's presence. The Master could not bring himself to disturb it. Maybe after the mission but not now. He still needed something to cling to other than the hilt still clipped to his belt. Bowing his head, Qui-Gon left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. He went back to the kitchen area, glancing at the chronometer on the wall as he went. It was near enough midday. He didn't really feel much like eating now but perhaps he should start preparing his midday meal. It would keep his hands busy if nothing else. The Master lifted a pot from the shelf and filled it with water. He then moved back with the intent to put it down on the hob. Or he would have done if he had been able to reach it. Maybe it was his sadness or maybe it was because his thoughts were so focused on Obi-Wan at that time. For what ever reason something happened at that point that caused the pot to smash to the ground, dropping from his suddenly stunned fingers. Water splashed all over the floor but Qui-Gon barely noticed it, he was too busy grabbing onto a nearby chair to steady himself. And if his hands had not been so occupied they would most certainly have gone to his head Because in that moment a part of his mind that he had thought closed forever was suddenly and almost savagely torn open. A wave of presence flooded into his heart and mind, and on its crest there came a voice, crying, desperate and painfully familiar. The same voice that had haunted so many of his thoughts night and day for six terrible weeks. Except this was no specter of his memory there to torment him. This was real. This was tangible. This was alive. In one word it broke across his senses like water on a beach, drowning out everything he had ever felt or experienced in the last month like footprints in the sand. And to him it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. “Master!” (tbc...) -----signature----- "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." Songfic writer addict! All of of my Fics and FanArt can be found in my bio
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Layren Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 11/18/06 6:55pm Subject: RE: The Game of Death (Qui/Obi, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) Updated 19/11/06
	Oh evil author! What a terrible cliffe! Of course Obi-Wan can't be dead! It does say hurt/comfort after all...... must have more! Where is Obi-Wan? Who's got him...because obviously someone must or Obi-Wan would not have cried like that... Eagerly looking forward to more! -----signature----- Proud Master to Ara-gon The Triad Chronicles http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/25934993/p1/?177 (OC's) Into Another Day http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27926050/p1/?0 2008 Dear Diary Challenge I am Jinngerbread.
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