Fire
by Lilith SedaiPart 1
It was impossible to achieve and maintain full Force-enhanced speed on such rough terrain, but the two Jedi did their best, risking broken ankles and other injuries. Qui-Gon's pace quickly began to flag, his exhaustion apparent. Obi-Wan glanced aside for a split instant, calculating the width of the ash flow. They were not going to make it past the perimeter, even at their best speed. Apparently Qui-Gon agreed; he veered away, heading back toward the flow itself.
Obi-Wan hesitated, then followed him. "We can't risk the river!" The wind of their passage tore at the words in his mouth. Even if the extreme temperature of the gases didn't heat the water swiftly, there was the risk of floods of boiling mud from upslope.
"We have to take shelter. If not the water, then an enclosed area or a stone face..." they were nearing the river bluffs but the ash cloud was advancing rapidly; it would reach the cliffs before they could.
"This way." Obi-Wan tugged Qui-Gon aside. They had only seconds to spare. He had spied a thick extrusion of igneous stone jutting into the air. They flung themselves at its base, Qui-Gon shrouding them inside his cloak, pressing Obi-Wan tight against the damp dirt and cold, rough stone. The fabric of his cloak was specially designed to have strong insulating properties, and it was not flammable, but it had never been meant to withstand the searing heat of a volcanic eruption. Qui-Gon tucked his head in tight over Obi-Wan's, protecting as much of the smaller man's body as he could.
"Qui-Gon, you'll be burned!" Obi-Wan gasped, struggling.
"I can't shield us both completely. Too much surface area," he gritted, eyes tight-shut. Force surged to his call. "Watch what I do, and help me!" He plunged the energies he summoned into the ground beneath them, weaving a complex thermal barrier and heat-dispersing network. Obi-Wan reached tentatively to sense the pattern of energies and began to duplicate it.
Qui-Gon gasped and stiffened against Obi-Wan. Intolerable heat seared the knight's legs and boots, everywhere Qui-Gon could not cover him. The cloud poured over them just as Obi-Wan brought his strength to bear, quickly expanding the heat-dispersing barrier to protect their scalded legs, channeling the thermal energy safely away and into the ground.
Qui-Gon's breath was labored, his face agonized with the pain of summoning and maintaining the barrier. Obi-Wan realized that the older Jedi was wearied and hurt by his efforts to preserve his mental shields against the bond when their control slipped as he made love to Obi-Wan next to the river. His psychic exhaustion was almost complete. Obi-Wan understood with a sudden sick stab of guilt and fear that Qui-Gon might not be able to maintain the heat dispersal barrier for long enough to protect them-- he had no idea how long the heat-storm would last. Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him; clearly if the Jedi Master failed, he would die trying to use his body to shield Obi-Wan from harm.
The air in their breathers was stifling and the stone behind Obi-Wan's back had begun to warm slowly, temperature rising degree by degree. The ground under their bodies grew warmer as well, the thermal barrier unable to dissipate the intense heat swiftly enough. Qui-Gon was perspiring heavily, his tunics wet against Obi-Wan's chest, and his breathing rasped in his throat.
Obi-Wan struggled to draw more Force, pushing his efforts to the point of pain and beyond, bolstering the faltering heat-shield as much as he could. The pyroclastic flow seemed to last forever; the Force roiled in turmoil around them as rampant geophysical energies spent their strength. Obi-Wan realized that superheated ash was piling up around Qui-Gon's back and both their legs, increasing the difficulty of dispersing the thermal energy. He spared a whisper of power to push it away, squirming his hand free to flick his fingers and direct the Force. Qui-Gon trembled against him, his muscles cording, veins knotting in his throat. The Jedi Master was refusing to release the barrier. His heart-rate had increased dangerously; he might have a stroke or an aneurysm and die from the strain. Strain diminished the flow of Force he could handle, pinching it off like water backed up inside a bent pipe.
Obi-Wan could feel the older Jedi's pain...if the shield failed, Obi-Wan might conceivably shield himself enough to survive where he lay huddled behind the big man's broad, sheltering body, but Qui-Gon would surely die. "No, no, no..." Obi-Wan realized he was muttering incoherently against Qui-Gon's chest. He drew a shuddering breath and forced himself to relax, purging his fear with determination born of desperation. His instincts murmured, and he reached into their bond, extending himself through it.
Qui-Gon's mental shields were gone; he was directing his entire being into his failing attempt to channel the heat away, struggling to continue protecting Obi-Wan. The young Jedi lowered his own shields, his mind falling open to the Force Qui-Gon held. Awkwardly he extended himself into their bond and merged his own efforts with the flow that streamed through the Jedi Master. He took control of the failing pattern, rebuilding it, strengthening and adding to it, directing the energy that both their midichlorians channeled.
Power slid through him in a cool torrent. With calm clarity, Obi-Wan redirected their combined strength past Qui-Gon's injured mind, buffering the strain on him. He felt Qui-Gon gasp with relief, then as though it were his own he felt the searing pain down the man's back and shoulders where the bleed-through of heat from the sizzling ash had smoldered his cloak.
There was nothing to do but wait, wait and savor the strength of the power he was channeling with the help of Qui-Gon's own abilities. In time, the ash-storm would spend its fury. Already the wavefront had passed far beyond them. Slowly, cooling breezes were sweeping over the land toward them and the ash was settling to sear the ground.
It was beginning to grow easier to hold the barrier; the majority of the heat was passing. He lay quietly, soothing Qui-Gon with gentle words until he judged that the atmosphere was such that they could breathe and walk. Then he gathered the larger man in his arms and quickly stood them up, carefully redirecting the dispersal barrier to deal with the ankle-deep searing ash that drifted about their feet.
The trees and vegetation that remained in the path of the ash flow had been reduced to torches, flame fanned to angry fluttering streamers by the persistent, troubled winds. Qui-Gon coughed at the heat, blinking behind his grime-smeared mask. Obi-Wan examined his companion carefully, wincing at the severe burns on the man's broad back and the lesser ones on his legs. They were not incapacitating, and could be regarded as mild considering that both men would have died if the barrier had failed completely. Jinn would have to have bacta treatments. Hopefully Bretor kept a full medical facility.
"Can you walk?" he addressed Qui-Gon gently.
Qui-Gon nodded, struggling to control the spasms in his chest, his eyes streaming. His breather mask had not sealed properly against his cheek and it had let in sulfuric gas; Obi-Wan could taste the residue through the filter in his own breather. He gently reached and adjusted the other man's mask himself, helping Qui-Gon remain standing as his broad frame was racked by a second spasm of coughing.
"What did you do?" The Jedi Master was barely able to speak, throat abused by the heat and ash he had inhaled, but Obi-Wan could sense the intent of his question through the intensified bond between them. The bond...there would be time to worry about that when they were safe.
"We'll talk about it later." Obi-Wan kept his voice soothing. "Let's get back to the compound now."
Their progress was painfully slow. Qui-Gon's lungs were damaged by the volcanic gases, and he was reduced to a slow walk, leaning heavily on Obi-Wan when fits of coughing wracked him. The young Knight supported him and encouraged him gently, keeping half an eye warily on the volcano even after night fell, but it seemed to have spent its fury.
Obi-Wan would have liked to try to heal Qui-Gon, but he was not sure he could maintain both flows at once, and did not want to risk the consequences of failing at the attempt. His mind was in turmoil, his dismay held distant by the necessity for concentration to maintain the heat dispersal.
He had dropped his shields, had reached through the bond, accepted it and used it. Now their minds were cemented together through a strong, clear channel. He could feel it tugging at both of them now. He could hardly think of lifting his hands from Qui-Gon's body, and he could feel the ghost of the other man's pain and fatigue.
Qui-Gon labored bravely to bear up under the burden of his injuries, releasing his pain into the Force, drawing energy from some unknown reserve of determination.
It was well after mid-cycle when they reached the compound, and no one seemed aware that they had returned. Resisting the temptation to swear, Obi-Wan supported Qui-Gon with one arm as he consulted the installation's central computer to find the facility they needed. He led Qui-Gon into the deserted medical bay and eased him belly-down onto a cot. "Can you set a healing trance?" Obi-Wan stroked Qui-Gon's cheek gently, a few wisps of heat-singed hair crumbling under his palm.
"No," the shaking whisper was a ghost of Qui-Gon's normal, rich tones. "Psychic strain. I shouldn't try to touch the Force."
Glad of his thorough field-med training, Obi-Wan quickly washed his filthy hands and prepared an injection of strong anesthetic. "Then I'm going to sedate you." He administered the injection carefully.
Qui-Gon's rigid body relaxed gradually, but his breathing remained labored. Obi-Wan gently fitted him with a bacta-mist inhaler and gingerly began peeling back the partly-charred robe, tunics, and leggings and cutting them from the big man's body. Qui-Gon breathed shallowly, panting with pain in spite of the strong drug Obi-Wan had administered.
The young Jedi winced with sympathy, momentarily unsure where the burned garments ended and the seared skin began. For Qui-Gon to have held the shield as well as he had, in spite of such pain...for him to have made the torturous journey back to the installation on foot...he was incredibly strong.
"I have to clean the wounds before I can try to heal them," he explained softly. "I'm afraid it's going to hurt."
Qui-Gon nodded faintly, his eyes closing with weariness.
Obi-Wan applied cool wet cloths to the burns, carefully wiping the ash away, mingling Force-healing with physical manipulation to ensure that the grit and dirt were removed. There was relatively little danger of infection, he calculated-- the intense heat of the volcano should have destroyed any septic material in the ash and dirt that crusted the wounds.
The effects of the anesthetic were deepening rapidly, and he was able to increase the thoroughness and speed of his careful cleaning. Fortunately the burns were not so extensive as to require submersion in bacta; Obi-Wan settled for a topical application of bacta ointment and then placed dermaplast over the layer of healing gel.
When he had finished, he centered himself and laid his hands on Qui-Gon's abused back. The Force helped seal the artificial skin to the wound, interacting with the bacta to speed healing. Qui-Gon would still be more than usually sensitive to touch and temperature for some days, but he would live, and he was not badly scarred. In fact, Obi-Wan realized, he was sleeping now, exhausted, his breathing grown smooth and easy.
Obi-Wan turned Qui-Gon onto his unburned side to examine the front of his body for injuries. He pulled away the bacta mist breather and set it aside. Starting to cover Qui-Gon's bare body with a sheet, he hesitated. He reached timidly, tracing the curve of the man's lips, letting his fingers slip down to drift over the strong throat, over the sturdy chest, shyly circumnavigating the rose-brown of a nipple with his fingertip. Qui-Gon had saved him twice today. He had tried to continue shielding despite the psychic strain, protecting Obi-Wan from the volcano's murderous heat even when the Force began to fail him and all he could bring between the younger man and the killing ash was his own fragile body.
It was what a Jedi would have done, it was what a life-mate would do. Qui-Gon would be both of these things to him now. They would be both things to one another. What Obi-Wan had done to save them ensured that their bond could not be denied for much longer.
Obi-Wan blinked away the moisture that gathered in his eyes, unsure if it represented a reaction to stress or to his own fears that Qui-Gon might reject him again in spite of having been prepared to sacrifice so much to save him.
"Tamrin?" A voice registered behind him, sharp with disbelief. Obi-Wan turned to find Administrator Bretor staring at him with open shock. "We believed you and Master Jinn were lost."
"No," Obi-Wan hedged for a story. "A little toasted, but not lost. We found shelter under an overhang, and Jinn used his Jedi powers to shield us. He took the worst of the damage himself."
Bretor stepped forward to inspect Obi-Wan's work, raising an impressed eyebrow at the dermaplast dressing. "An excellent job. You are a man of hidden talents."
"He was still conscious until a few minutes ago. I'm sure he would have given me directions if I needed them." Obi-Wan forced sardonic amusement he didn't feel into his voice. He tried not to bristle protectively as Bretor touched Qui-Gon's shoulder, tipping the big body slightly in order to better examine the treated burns.
"You are somewhat the worse for wear yourself," Bretor observed, glancing at Obi-Wan. Releasing Qui-Gon, he touched a fingertip to Obi-Wan's brow, and the young man was vaguely surprised to feel a stab of pain from a burn he had not yet noticed. "Remove your clothes and let me tend you."
Obi-Wan shied away from the touch reluctantly. There was something in the administrator's eyes..."I'm not hurt. I just need a good shower and a long sleep."
"Are you in charge of this facility, or am I? Strip." Bretor's tone soured.
He obeyed reluctantly. Obi-Wan's legs were raw, sensitive pink; Bretor soothed them with brisk sweeps of his hands, trailing healing Force in the wake of his touch, lingering perhaps a moment too long on the upper thighs. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to Qui-Gon; in spite of everything, he much preferred Jinn's touch to this man's.
The administrator washed Obi-Wan's face professionally and dabbed bacta gel on the burn over his eye. All the while Obi-Wan watched him, made uneasy by the conflicting signals he was receiving from the administrator and the Force. Something was not right with the man, but his efforts to care for Obi-Wan seemed sincerely concerned. His was not at all the aura of a man who had intentionally sent two nuisances out in hopes that the volcano might take them off his hands permanently...and yet there was an unmistakable feeling of guilt hovering around him, and his Force-aura was tinged with darkness. Just the touch of his eyes was enough to make Obi-Wan's skin prickle.
"Thanks for sending the Jedi after me," Obi-Wan spoke abruptly. "I wouldn't have made it without him."
"He wanted to go." Bretor gave him a sly smile. "You've gotten under his skin quite satisfactorily. I'm glad not to have to replace you or to explain his death to the Jedi Council." He winced visibly at the thought and tossed Obi-Wan his filthy coverall. "Keep up the good work, Tamrin. You're doing well with him so far." The administrator watched with open interest as Obi-Wan quickly clothed himself. "If you can keep him out of the way until we build production back up to normal, you'll find the rewards are substantial." Bretor confided to Obi-Wan quietly. "Keep him busy, or you may find you're needed for...less rewarding...duties than warming his bed."
"I'll do what I can." Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon, suppressing a shiver. He was glad that he had tended the man's burns himself instead of entrusting him to one of Bretor's medical personnel. Qui-Gon would have to learn of this conversation as quickly as Obi-Wan could arrange to tell him of it.
"Take some time off with him then, to 'rest.'" Bretor's voice insinuated far more than the seemingly compassionate words implied. He slapped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "He needs a good nurse, don't you think?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed quietly, knowing that Bretor would misinterpret his meaning. "I'll take care of him for you."
"Good." Bretor moved toward the cot where Qui-Gon lay. "Can you get him back to his quarters?"
"I can." Obi-Wan drifted closer to Qui-Gon too, smoothing back a wisp of ash-streaked hair. The gray made Qui-Gon look old; combined with the paleness of his face it also made him look very vulnerable.
"Wake up," Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon gently. "We've got to get you back to your quarters." Weary eyes opened and blinked; Obi-Wan helped Qui-Gon sit up and steadied him, wrapping him in a clean white sheet. Jinn was much steadier on his feet now. He spared Bretor a grave nod of greeting that was politely but coolly returned.
"I am glad you made it back, Master Jinn." Again, his tone was an odd combination of falseness and sincerity. "Tamrin has volunteered to take care of you until you are well enough to work again."
"My thanks," Qui-Gon nodded to Obi-Wan politely, dignified in spite of his circumstances.
"It's the least I owe you," Obi-Wan murmured, and guided him through the door, leaving the administrator in their wake. They rode the lift to the upper levels and Obi-Wan settled Qui-Gon into bed without bothering to bathe him, then climbed in next to him, lying down with the Jedi Master's head pillowed on his shoulder. He touched the bond, wondering if he might use it to tell Qui-Gon of his interaction with Bretor, but the older man was already asleep again. Sighing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and followed Qui-Gon into dreams.
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