Before - Legends Fault (O/Q Short Story) Part II 4.13

[image=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v673/LuvEwan/faultcover.jpg]

PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

After a long, tormenting mission, Qui-Gon and his apprentice attempt to heal. But the past could prevent either of them from moving on.

|||

?How is he??

I feel a startled, cold shudder in my bones. Within a blink, my eyes regain focus. I?m not sure how much time I have spent staring out the window, but it was long enough an interval for the sky to shed its light.

Night again.

Ullo stands in front of me, an expectant look on his dark olive, bearded face. His tunics are slightly unkempt (as always), which I am grateful for, considering the state of my own.

?They say he can go home tomorrow.? I tell him. My voice cracks-I haven?t used it in awhile.

He nods, looking down, wiping his palms absently on his thighs. ?I?m glad to hear it.?

I smile, but it feels like more like a quick tic in my mouth, and I wonder how long Knight Tirr will stay here. How long I must wear this façade of partial composure. His arms cross, with a rustling noise that is in soft contrast with the silence, and the white, the white that coats the screens and the chairs and the thick, high walls. When I close my eyes, I see the white, and it?s like looking into the core of a blinding hot bulb. But it can never rob my totally of my sight. I still see everything I don?t want to.

?Why don?t you sit down, Qui-Gon? You look like you?ve been standing there for a week.? raw

A week? No. A week ago I was sitting in a frigid shadow, and these bruises were not yet shining on my scratched-raw knuckles. I would rather remain in place, where I can feel the steady burn of my leg muscles, and the creeping ache up my back. Regardless, I sit in a plastic molded chair, and he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me; sense his subtle appraisals in the Force. He must think I?m on the cusp of madness, the way he?s analyzing me. I cannot afford madness.

Ullo lets out a heavy sigh. There were moments when I would forget the several handfuls of years separating us, for he seemed to age a decade with every day, but now I am gray and wilted, and don?t understand the gentle optimism in his emerald gaze. Now he?ll always be younger than I am. ?I heard you were debating with the Council over it.?

I hear the weary admonishment in his voice. He would not rebuke my actions, if he knew the extent of my fault. ?I only asked them for what is due, Knight Tirr. I committed a terrible act of violence. I deserve punishment.?

He shakes his head, rubbing his temple. ?Maybe, if everything were black and white.?

But everything is black and white, I think. Black bruises, white rooms.

?You were under the influence of something so potent. You were out of control. The whole situation was out of your control.?

Hands and feet cutting through the air, hair whipping into my eyes, snarls and curses and stay away from him stay away and no stop no, I mustn?t fall back there. I am speaking to a fellow Jedi, a friend, and I am in the present, reality. Control. My hand covers my chin. ?I never thought?I never thought I was capable of that.? My hands flex, straining the dry flesh, stretched wounded over bone.

?But you aren?t,? Ullo insists, arms bound across his chest. I look away from him, and he steps forward, voice rising slightly, ?Qui-Gon, you know you would never do that if you were in your right mind.?

My right mind. I used to understand that. There was sane, and there was insane. Insanity meant jumping, or tumbling, off some invisible ledge into a strange, new, dark abyss. You became a different person, a wild thing, thrusting out independently from its host. But the drugs did not send me down to a chasm, in which all thought was muddled and deranged. Even when I erupted into blood-lusting violence, I still retained my own core of existence; it was still my own voice in my head and ripping from my throat.

It was only my hands that wrought such destruction, near mutilation. But Ullo would never accept that. Hells,

 

Oh, Qui-Gon! "What have you done!

this sounds interesting I like short stories.

 

Wow! This is really well done, I wish I could write like that in English...

Great post!

 

Glorious language as always. I loved the
The meager amount of evening chill has collected on the glass, beading like sweat, or tears, or old, stale rain.

and the
My hands flex, straining the dry flesh, stretched wounded over bone.

Such vivid imagery.

But what has Qui-Gon done that he thought he should be punished? Obi-Wan sounds like he's been in a war. I hope that Qui-Gon didn't do that kind of damage while he was under the influence of the drug.
I think, though, that if he feels he deserves punishment, the Council should give it to him. It would ease his spirit a bit and help him heal.

Great job. Please, please, though, don't forget to finish it!

 

?I did it,? I rasp, seeing every blurred, smeary frame of the moments, playing behind my eyes in cruel blinks, ?and they won?t censure me.?

I have a horrible feeling that I know what he did, and his guilt and difficulty with the event is that he worries that the part of him that keeps people at bay for his safety and protection acted so savagely because he felt he was under attack, and therefore he was, in part, responsible for his behaviour (so he has reasoned). Of course I could be wrong (glares at crystal ball which has still failed to produce winning lottery numbers).

Wonderfully written, as always. Your expression of Qui-Gon's dark thoughts are both sobre and sublime. I've really missed reading your stories

 

Wow, LE, stunning! I can't wait to see more!

 

Wow! I don't know what else to say. If you send out PMs when you update I would love to request one, actually beg for one. Lovely, as always! And I wonder what he has done???

 

Another great story! I want to be permanently on a PM list for anything you write, for everything is sublime.

I am curious as to what happened, and I bet Obi's already forgiven him, if he even thinks it necessary, which will make Qui feel even worse. Lovely angst.

 

Amazing job, I am speechless,..PM me with updates please!

 

wow..I'd like to be on that PM list too!

Wonderful...what DID he do?

 

Put me on the list as well.

Whatever Qui-Gon did, it must have been really bad...I hope it isn't what I think it is.

Lovely work; looking forward to more.

 

Absolutely incredible, LE.

Of course, I expected nothing less.

I know that Obi-Wan won't blame him. But no one can stop Qui-Gon from blaming himself, not this time. They both will need to help the other to heal.

More soon? Please?

 

Gkilkenny Oh, Qui-Gon! "What have you done! Interesting question.

Leona Oh my... this is quite the ominious sounding short story. Good.

MASTER_KAYM Thanks!

diane But what has Qui-Gon done that he thought he should be punished? What do you think he did? Please, please, though, don't forget to finish it! Why, you act as if I have a habit of abandoning stor---nevermind.

River_Stone I have a horrible feeling that I know what he did, and his guilt and difficulty with the event is that he worries that the part of him that keeps people at bay for his safety and protection acted so savagely because he felt he was under attack, and therefore he was, in part, responsible for his behaviour (so he has reasoned). Of course I could be wrong (glares at crystal ball which has still failed to produce winning lottery numbers). Insightful as always, my dear.

Layren Thank you!

VL And I wonder what he has done??? That seems to be the big question.

Valairy_Scot I am curious as to what happened, and I bet Obi's already forgiven him, if he even thinks it necessary, which will make Qui feel even worse. Obi-Wan is quite the sweetheart.

Kenobiwanobi Thank you.

Lady_Snow_Kaguya Wonderful...what DID he do? Beats me.

__Sithspawn__ I hope it isn't what I think it is. Hmm, I?m not sure what you think it is, so I don?t know. It could be, I guess.

may I know that Obi-Wan won't blame him. But no one can stop Qui-Gon from blaming himself, not this time. They both will need to help the other to heal. That's very true. And you know what they say, healing is just another word for mush. Wait, does anyone really say that?


Thank you everyone for you replies. It means very much to me.

|||

I continue looking at the point where she was standing, but I can feel the weight of two red-rimmed eyes on me. I know I will have to turn to him, speak to him?we have not exchanged a single sentence between us since?

?Master??

My vision is filled with him before I realize I?ve even pivoted my head toward the voice. ?Yes?? The wrong word. Too simple, too innocent, when he deserves such different words. I?m sorry.

He studies me with soft curiosity for a moment, then, ?Are you alright??

The inquiry strikes me as more ridiculous than my own attempt at talking, for instead of recriminations, his focus is on my welfare. Mine. He is sitting on a hospital cot, a faint, battered shadow of himself, while I sit comfortably in a chair, only my hands bearing bruises. And he wants to know if I?m alright?

?I-I don?t remember if I saw you after,? His eyes drop a notch, and his lips compress, ?what happened. And the healers were giving me a constant stream of painkillers, I?m not sure if you were here, or-?

?I was here.? I stand, and move to the bedside, hardly able to feel my feet press against the floor. Every mark looks twice as livid, as though he is still on that cracked gray floor, motionless. ?But I?I remained in the waiting area until last night. The healers needed space to work, and you needed your rest.?

He nods, looking up at me with a tentative smile. ?You weren?t harmed, then??

I would touch his face in reassurance, but I fear it will hurt him. So I smile, and that hurts, more than it ever has. ?No. I?m fine.? Before he can say anything more in concern for me, ?Are you ready to go??

?Yes,? he says, with all the relish of someone who would readily torch this healing wing, if able. I want to laugh at that; he?s always abhorred the stays in infirmaries, claiming the acrid scent lodges in his nostrils for days afterward. I notice he?s still in the thin white gown that?s shielded me from taking in another brutal collection of injuries. I didn?t think to bring another set o

 

Obi-Wan?s eyes rise to my face, shining and gray. ?No, no, it?s??

But it does taste wrong. It doesn?t taste the same as it did before. I?ve done something wrong, too much of something or not enough of something else. ?I can make something else. Do you want something else??

?No, it?s alright. It tastes good.? He punctuates this by swallowing a spoonful.

I stand, the chair groaning across the floor. ?No, it?s wrong. It?s watery. Don?t eat anymore.? I take the bowl from him, and pour all of it into the compactor. I can?t believe I fed that to him. I clear the table while he sits watching me. Oh Force why is he looking at me?

Awwwww poor Qui-Gon. Just about anything he orders is going to taste funny too. It's not just his cooking. Poor baby. Anesthesia and medicine do funny things to one's taste buds. His guilt is just heart wrenching. I want to give them both a hug. They sound like they need it.

 

What the heck did Qui-Gon do that he feels such guilt? I could speculate but I think I'll let you allow this one to unfold on its own.

The conversation is so very painful and so very right for the two of them, one wracked with guilt and the other trying to make everything seem so normal when nothing is. Even the soup, which was probably fine, is wrong, soured by Jinn's guilt.


Glorious.

 

I love the way you're letting this story unfold! Brilliant!

 

ouch...this is so painful.......and we still do not know the datails......Qui must of killed a lot of people for him to feel that unworthy.....

 

This is marvelous, LE. All your work is, and found that I had tears in my eyes when I finished. Poor Qui-Gon, who feels every single bruise, as much (or even more) than what even Obi-Wan feels. Obi-Wan would forgive him, and but he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. The conversations were heart-wrenching. Bravo.

 

Oh, my goodness. I can speculate now, but as said above, I'll read and wonder. Beautiful and poignant. I feel the mental aches in this story.

 

Oh so sad, the pieces are coming together

lovely

 

::wince:: Ouch. It's all incredibly painful.

Does Obi-Wan not remember what happened, exactly? He seems to have so little reaction to it all . . . well, I'm sure you'll bring it all together for us.

And yes, healing definitely equals mush. How else does it happen?

 

Warning: gushing ahead.

Lovely work, as always. Your writing is always so vivid and striking...definitely puts me to shame.

I love that tight, painful feel you create - it scratches at one's heart.

Are you, by any chance, pro?

Thank you for the PM. Keep up the awesome work.

 

I really like when you fill it with such agony...its like I feel their pain...great job...can't wait for more!