Title: The Fog of Peace Author: ardavenport Timeframe: Before the Saga Genre: Drama, Angst Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, OCs Keywords Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, fog, witness Summary: The Jedi have been called upon to witness something that can't be seen. And: Typo is my middle name, with missing words and errors that spell checkers don?t catch being my speciality ? if you see any, just post a reply or send a PM with the what and where and I will kill them with no mercy. Disclaimer: All characters belong to George and Lucasfilm; I?m just playing in their sandbox Obi-Wan Kenobi ran back to where he had been, stumbling on uneven patches of grassy ground. His heavy breathing filled the soundless air around him. He stopped. Turned one way. Then the other. Behind him. Nothing but fog. Was this the same place? He began pacing a spiral outward, looking down at green-gray tufts of grass, dark green crawling vines and flattened patches of bright yellowish-green with clusters of very tiny white flowers. He cleared his mind and plodded on, seeking guidance from the Force, that strong sense of intuition that would tell him what was the right spot. But all he felt was fog. Gray fog, so thick that it limited his world to himself and the small patch of ground he traversed. So no matter how far he went, he always remained in the same place. This planet had only one primary star, but Obi-Wan could not tell where it would be in the sky. But it was somewhere in its day cycle behind the uniform gray of fog around him. The air on his face felt as if it were two temperatures, the coolness of the air itself and the clamminess of the moisture suspended in it. Still circling outward, he felt disoriented, his body tilted too far to one side. He tripped. And rolled on the ground, his heavy robe helping to cushion the fall. He ended up on his back and stared up at perfectly smooth, blank grayness, endless and closely confining at the same time. His body felt numbed, like his senses. And still dizzy, as if he was still rolling. He gulped air to steady himself. He knew he should be doing better. At seventeen standard years of age, he had been a Jedi Padawan for years now. But his vision sank away from the fog, the grayness receding further and further above him through a long black tunnel. Obi-Wan shook his head, disturbed but his mind still blank. Not from clarity in the Force, but from hazy confusion. He rolled over. A line of pain seared his biceps and remained while he positioned himself on his hands and knees. He breathed deeply, steadily and eventually his thoughts and sight began to solidify. He sat back, his legs under him and groped the sleeve of his robe on his right arm. His fingers found a thin shaft embedded in the coarse fabric. He pulled it away, held it up. Touched the smooth length of it, his forefinger stopping at the needle point. A dart? Poison? Drug? His head floated in the fog. His arm burned from the grazing wound on his skin. He lowered his head and that seemed to help steady it. The dart slipped out of his fingers. There was nothing but his small patch of ground and the fog, close around him on all sides and above, like a huge hazy gray bowl turned over him. He tried to push his senses beyond it in the Force. To Qui-Gon. His Master was. . . . . somewhere. Not near. Not active. But not dead. Small living creatures swarmed and darted about their own business out of sight in the opaque air and among the sparse plants of this plain. And there were others. . . . . looking for him. He tilted his head back, all his senses listening. Stumbling, he climbed to his feet and swayed precariously before a distant hum focused his attention again. He ran, his body falling forward with each step away from the searchers behind him. Light-headed, he could not tell if he traveled up or down the very slight incline of the plain. Up and out of the immense crater and its permanent fog or down further into danger?