Need Chapter XI
by Esmeralda
It was the siren call of his Padawan's despair which pulled Qui-Gon back from the darkness. Instinctively he reached out to comfort and reassure his Bond mate, //Obi-Wan.//
//Ma...master-?//
//Ssh Obi-Wan, I am safe. Are you hurt?// His reply was a jumbled rush of images and emotions so painfully intense, he had to fight not to raise his shields against them. //Obi-Wan hush, it's alright.// He tried to soothe the distraught youth through their link but Obi-Wan seemed on the verge of total collapse. Ignoring the pain Qui-Gon struggled free of the wrecked pilot seat and scrambled toward the doorway. Realising the door's controls were useless he drew upon the Force to assist him.
He had barely begun to pry it open when Obi-Wan wriggled through the narrow gap. The youth threw himself at Qui-Gon, enfolding the older man in a fierce embrace; Qui-Gon clutched his tear stained Padawan no less frantically, as he reassured himself that Obi-Wan was alive, and whole, and unhurt. It was a trembling Obi-Wan who finally drew back a little, just enough to scan Qui-Gon with anxious gray- green eyes.
"You're not hurt?"
Qui-Gon shook his head; gently drawing Obi-Wan back toward him he held the shaking youth close, laying his cheek against his Padawan's soft spiky hair.
"We have been very lucky." He glanced around the darkened cockpit, the view screen was entirely blacked out, buried in some unknown substance. "However I feel our ship has fared less well. Perhaps we should take a look and see?" He relaxed his embrace, raising his hand he brushed his fingers lightly across a tear stained cheek, Obi-Wan watched him through damp spiky lashes. "Alright?" The youth nodded.
Using the Force Qui-Gon opened the door a little further before clambering carefully out of the cockpit, Obi-Wan followed. Edging along the passageway, he eased aside the debris, ducking under exposed wires and pipes - still spitting sparks and hissing steam. The main door was free of wreckage, but as Qui-Gon extended his senses he realised it was still impassable as it was completely blocked from the outside.
He turned his attention to the emergency hatch, opening the first door warily. Qui-Gon knew the ship's hull had been breached - the fact that they were still alive, indicated the planet had a breathable atmosphere; but other than that the world outside was unknown. Clad only in his tunic and boots he slipped easily into the narrow exit tube; though it required a little more effort to turn himself in order to operate the manual release mechanism for the outer door. As it opened slowly he glanced up, Obi-Wan was watching him intently, face drawn and shadowed.
"Wait there." Obi-Wan gave no indication that he had heard. "Obi- Wan!" The youth's eyes snapped into focus, "Stay inside while I take a look." The young man opened his mouth as if to object, but then closed it, nodding silently. Qui-Gon offered his Padawan a reassuring smile. //I won't be long Obi-Wan.// Obi-Wan didn't smile back, a worried furrow had settled between concerned gray-green eyes.
Qui-Gon turned away; sliding down the exit tube he dropped to the ground in a crouch, his fingers immediately sinking into cold, black sand. Damp and gritty it clung to his skin. Brushing it off as best he could he stood, turning around to face the ship. He quickly realised it was this same black silt which had cushioned their impact, saving them from almost certain disaster.
Their stricken craft lay on its side, half buried in the sand; its once sleek form savagely torn apart. His eyes were drawn to the deep ragged tear along its underside, where the outer hull had literally been shorn open; a victim of the jagged rocks which jutted up out of the desolate gray landscape. These razor like projections stretched out as far as the horizon line on all sides. Had they struck the ground anywhere but here the ship would have been ripped to pieces.
The black sand surrounded a deep blue-green pool, its opaque surface eerily still and lifeless. In fact the whole planet seemed strangely silent - no bird song, no insects, no sign of life at all, save for a few sparse clumps of withered yellowed grass. These pale bedraggled plants were the only other colour in a monotonous landscape of gray and black. As he walked forward the sand became stonier, stretching out into a cracked, ridged surface. He squatted down to touch the ground beneath his feet, frowning as he did so - it was basalt; which meant the 'sand' wasn't sand at all - it was volcanic ash.
He scanned the horizon line, taking in the distant mountains - were they volcanoes? and if so were they still active? There was sign that they were, and certainly the lava beneath his feet had long since cooled, wrinkled into knolls and fissures. He shivered suddenly chilled. Hearing the crunch of sand behind him he turned, not overly surprised to see Obi-Wan gingerly making his way across the rough terrain.
Qui-Gon shot his Padawan a mildly displeased look, "I thought I told you to wait in the ship?"
"Sorry Master." Obi-Wan looked genuinely contrite, and Qui-Gon had no wish to belabour the point so he merely nodded, accepting the youth's apology. Obi-Wan looked relieved and edged a little closer. "Do you know where we are?" Sighing wearily Qui-Gon shook his head.
"No, it seems the navigation system was malfunctioning."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "So...we could be anywhere?" Despite the young man's efforts to conceal it, Qui-Gon caught the sharp edge of worry in his Padawan's voice.
"I doubt we can have travelled far Obi-Wan. We will initiate the distress beacon, someone will find us."
Obi-Wan nodded but Qui-Gon knew his Padawan was far too astute not to have guessed the true nature of their situation. Their ship was certainly no longer capable of flight, they were stranded here until someone came for them. However, they had no way of knowing how long the navigation system had been feeding the autopilot false information; they could be light years away from any inhabited area of space. Their distress beacon had a limited range and power supply; it was entirely possible no-one would hear it.
Qui-Gon tried not to dwell on where all this might lead; instead he focused upon their immediate challenges - setting the beacon, cataloguing their supplies, and finding shelter. The ship appeared fairly stable but it was very close to the water, and a tremor, if there was one, could send it into unknown depths. He decided it would be best to make shelter close to the craft, rather than inside it. He was about to call Obi-Wan to follow him when he noticed the young man's bare feet. Scratched by the sharp gritty sand, and abrasive rocks, they were bleeding from numerous cuts and welts.
"Obi-Wan!-" The young man followed his gaze, quickly dropping the corner of robe he was holding.
"I didn't have time to get my boots."
Qui-Gon frowned, the explanation was acceptable - but it did not account for why his Padawan had disobeyed him to cross the harsh terrain barefoot.
"Stay here," he made his expression just severe enough to discourage Obi-Wan from any further rash behaviour, "and *don't* move. I'll fetch your boots." Obi-Wan nodded, looking suitable abashed. However as Qui-Gon turned to go the youth added,
"I need my robe too." Qui-Gon looked at the robe his Padawan was wearing and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Obi-Wan smiled somewhat sheepishly and held up an arm, the sleeve hung over the young man's hand. "I think this one is yours."
Chapter XII
Qui-Gon climbed back into the ship cautiously. Though the ship seemed secure - held fast by the sand - he made his way slowly and carefully. The air around him crackled with electricity making his skin tingle; while the smell of burnt rubber and plastic made him nauseous. Struggling to ignore the assault on his senses, he re-entered the cockpit. Pulling aside the broken remains of the pilot's seat he reached under the console to switch on the emergency beacon's independent power supply. He gave a small sigh of relief as a green light flickered on - its steady pulse a sign that the beacon was now working.
Moving back through the ship he entered their sleeping quarters; the door was half open, allowing him to slip inside with relative ease - despite the devastation within. The bedding had been torn from the bed, the mattress completely up-ended, their few belongings were strewn around the room. He located Obi-Wan's boots first; it took him a little longer to track down the young man's robe, and while he was looking he also discovered Obi-Wan's tunic. As he turned to leave his foot struck something soft - Obi-Wan's bag. He picked it up, noticing as he did so that one side of it was newly damp - stained with something, a dark substance, oily against his fingertips. After a moments hesitation he decided against opening it - he would leave that to Obi-Wan. Instead he held it in a way which, he hoped, would minimise any further damage to the contents.
Obi-Wan stood anxiously awaiting his return, smiling in relief as he re-emerged from the ship. However as he approached, the young man's eyes dropped to the sodden bag in his hand; they flickered up again quickly, and he caught a glimpse of something - panic? in their mercurial depths; before Obi-Wan shuttered it away. Qui-Gon was careful not to indicate that he had noticed anything, smiling as he handed over the clothing. Obi-Wan uttered a slightly subdued 'thank you' before reaching for them. However Qui-Gon was quite unable to contain his horror as he took in the ruination of his Padawan's hands. Too late Obi-Wan tried to hide them. Dropping the clothing, Qui-Gon took hold of Obi-Wan's wrists as the young man attempted to pull away,
"Let me *see* them Obi-Wan!" Silently, sullenly the young man obeyed and Qui-Gon sorrowfully cast his eyes over his Padawan's sore, swollen fingers. Burnt and blistered they had to be causing the young man tremendous pain - but Obi-Wan, being 'Obi-Wan', was bearing it with typical stubborn stoicism. Qui-Gon withheld a sigh - just. He would have to go back for the medi-kit. He cursed himself for not bringing it earlier - Obi-Wan's abused feet would also need attention.
Releasing the young man's wrists he bent down to pick up the robe and tunic; standing he motioned Obi-Wan to remove the other robe. After a slight, almost imperceptible hesitation, Obi-Wan did as he asked. Qui-Gon's mouth tightened into a thin hard line as he took in the bloody scrapes and rising bruises scattered over his Padawan's body. Wordlessly he assisted Obi-Wan in dressing; folding his own robe up he lay it down upon the smoothest patch of ground in sight. "Sit there." When Obi-Wan just looked at him Qui-Gon stepped forward; laying his hands upon his Padawan's shoulders, he gently pressed the young man down. Then he turned and without another word strode back across the sand toward the ship.
Qui-Gon was alarmed by the anger flowing through him; but the sight of Obi-Wan's injuries had induced a rage he was powerless to contain. Much of that anger was directed against himself; he fully recognized the futility of regret, but he couldn't help but curse his decision to leave Coruscant. He wasted no time in retrieving the ship's medi-kit, striding back across the black sands just in time to witness Obi-Wan struggling to put on his boots.
"Obi-Wan!-" As his Padawan froze mid-action, Qui-Gon covered the last bit of ground at top speed, taking the boots off a startled Obi-Wan he set them well out of reach. He sat down and took hold of Obi- Wan's left foot, lifting it gently onto his lap, "Just sit still and let me take care of you, alright?" He saw his Padawan's eyes widen at the raw emotion in his voice, and he struggled to bring himself back under control. Keeping his head bowed he concentrated on cleaning the dirt and blood from the young man's foot. He was relieved to discover that most of the blood came from superficial scratches; he smeared them with antiseptic ointment, and then turned his attentions to the right foot. It had one slightly deeper cut just inside the instep, and he felt Obi-Wan tense up as he cleaned the grit from it. He used their link to offer wordless comfort - still not trusting himself enough to speak.
Finally done, Qui-Gon set Obi-Wan's feet back down upon the robe, and reached for the young man's hands.
"They're not so bad-" Obi-Wan fell silent at his sharp look. The young man remained silent while he examined each badly burnt finger; but sucked in a sharp breath when he began to gently clean them. Qui- Gon used the Force to ease his Padawan's discomfort; not giving a thought as to why Obi-Wan wasn't already doing so. Neither he nor Obi-Wan were trained as Healers, but all Jedi possessed the ability to accelerate the healing process, and could place themselves in a healing trance when necessary - just as he had done on Naboo. Qui- Gon used this ability now, to heal the worst of Obi-Wan's cuts and burns.
When Qui-Gon was satisfied he had done as much as he could, he wrapped them in a thin layer of gauze to protect them as they healed; and then turned to deal with his own minor cuts and scrapes. He had only one which required moderate attention, a cut, just inside his hairline where a 'flying' panel had struck him. It had already stopped bleeding, and he peeled away the matted strands of hair which had become entangled in the dried blood. He didn't miss the way Obi- Wan's eyes narrowed, evidently the young man hadn't noticed his injury before now. He could feel the concern and frustration emanating from his Padawan, who, bandaged as he was, was unable to offer any assistance. Still Qui-Gon had years of practice at dealing with his own injuries, and was only mildly hampered by the fact that he couldn't see this one.
Finished, he set the medi-kit aside and stared up at the sky - a dreary washed out gray, it appeared to be darkening slightly towards the distant mountains - a storm? or simply night settling in? Either way they would need shelter. Standing, Qui-Gon unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and held it out to the younger man,
"Stay here Obi-Wan, and be watchful," he gave his Padawan a warning look, "I cannot sense any life here, but that doesn't mean that we are alone."
However as he spoke Obi-Wan was already scrambling to feet,
"I'm coming-"
Qui-Gon cut in firmly, "No, you are not. You will wait here."
"I can help!" The young man's tone was almost plaintive, but Qui-Gon shook his head,
"Obi-Wan your hands need to heal a little. Now please do as I ask and stay here." Perhaps it was the weariness in his voice, or his use of the word 'please' which shifted Obi-Wan into obedience. Whatever the trigger, the young man whispered a barely audible,
"Yes Master," before accepting the lightsaber, and sitting back down upon the folded robe. Qui-Gon knelt back down quickly, taking the dejected looking face in his hands, he placed a light kiss onto surprised lips.
"Qui-Gon, not 'Master.'" He smiled, a little sadly. Obi-Wan's eyes glittered,
"Hmm yes, I forgot.We're on vacation."
Qui-Gon shot the youth a sharp look to see if the young man were being sarcastic, but he saw only mischievous humour in his Bond mate's gaze. He shook his head in silent wonderment - both at Obi- Wan's sense of humour, and its timing.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14