Catharsis
Fandom: Phantom Menace
Category: Discipline
Archive: Persuaders for sure, if you want it :)
Feedback: Is welcomed
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to
George Lucas. It's all his, it's not mine, I make no
money.
Summary: Set during Star Wars: A New Hope, just after
Obi-Wan's death at the hands of Darth Vader. Obi-Wan
finds that the afterlife is not what he expected, but
it may offer salvation in an unexpected way.
He hadn't really known what to expect.
Oh, he had known he was going to die; he had known
that from the moment he stepped forward to face Vader.
It hadn't bothered him unduly - he was an old man, he
had outlived his usefulness, and while his life meant
little anymore, his death might just save the two
people he had sacrificed so much to protect. However,
accepting that you are going to die does not mean you
necessarily have any idea about what will happen when
you do.
He had actually been surprised that it didn't hurt
more. There had been a single brief flare of pain as
Vader's lightsaber sliced into his body, but it lasted
only an instant, and then he simply seemed to
be...floating. Looking down, he got a glimpse of the
hanger, where Luke had abandoned the pursuit of safety
in order to fire wildly at Vader and his troops.
Suddenly afraid that Luke might manage to get himself
killed despite everything, Obi-Wan called urgently to
him, "Run, Luke, run!" It seemed that Luke heard him,
too, because he turned and fled for the relative
safety of the Millenium Falcon, and Obi-Wan breathed a
disembodied sigh of relief.
Then suddenly the hanger was gone, vanished in a swirl
of silver sparks, and Obi-Wan was swept away from it
in a glittering maelstrom of light. It was beautiful,
and for Obi-Wan, who had been deprived of beauty for
so long, it seemed too lovely to be real.
/ And it isn't real, / he thought suddenly. / How can
it be real? I'm dead. I don't feel particularly dead,
but I must be, so how can this be real? /
// Your focus determines your reality, // a deep voice
seemed to whisper in his mind, and he froze, his
breath catching. It couldn't be...
"Master?" he murmured, softly. "Is that you?"
// Hush. Wait. //
"Wait? Wait for what?"
// Wait. //
The swirling lights began to slow, and then came to a
stop. They faded, little by little, until finally
there was only Obi-Wan, standing before a door in a
well-lit corridor, unable to believe his eyes.
He glanced up and down the corridor, then turned to
look behind him. There was nobody in sight. He looked
back at the door, and was almost surprised to find
that it was still there; that it hadn't simply faded
away while he wasn't looking. Because he knew this
door, and what it implied was surely impossible.
He knew this door, oh yes. He had walked through it
thousands of times, sometimes happy, sometimes less
than happy; but always, *always*, knowing that he
would be safe on the other side of it. He had called
the rooms that lay behind it home for over twelve
years, and even after all this time, just the sight of
it filled him with a sense of peace.
/ The last time I felt whole, I still lived here. /
The thought came unbidden, and with it the memories.
This door no longer existed. The Jedi temple that
contained it no longer existed. All of it was gone,
destroyed at the whim of the Sith Lord who called
himself Emperor, destroyed in the flames of Anakin's
black rage.
And the man who had lived with him behind this door
was dead.
Guilt rose up again, almost choking him. He had lived
with it for so many years that he had become somewhat
numb to it, but it could still rear its ugly head at
times. He had grown accustomed to the occasional
bouts; the way his eyes would sting, and his throat
would close, and his hands would begin to shake. He
would fight for control, for calm, and the effort
required to tamp down his emotions made him feel as
though his head was about to explode. He was always
left feeling drained and empty; the guilt stuffed a
little further down inside himself, but never truly
gone. To suffer such guilt alone for so long had been
the worst kind of torture.
He took several deep breaths, struggling for control,
and wiped his trembling hands over his face. A moment
later he frowned. His face...what was different about
his face?
And then it hit him.
His beard was gone. He was clean-shaven - and he could
barely remember the last time that had been the case.
He had worn a beard almost constantly for the last
thirty years. His skin felt different, too - smoother
and softer; less weathered - almost as if he *hadn't*
spent a good portion of his life living in a desert.
He ran an experimental hand through his hair, and
jerked it back in surprise. His hair was different
too. He had kept it short, and it was short all right,
but there was a not-so-short part just behind his
right ear. A braid.
A Padawan braid.
/ This can't be, / he thought frantically. / It can't
be. It isn't possible. /
He looked down at himself, staring in bewilderment at
the white tunic and pants, the brown cloak, the
knee-high boots - the exact attire he had been so
accustomed to wearing as an apprentice, and then as a
Jedi knight. He pulled the braid over his shoulder to
check the length of it, and found it hung halfway down
his chest. Judging by the braid, and the boots he was
wearing, he would be willing to bet if he looked in
the mirror right now he wouldn't look a day over
twenty.
In short, he was a Padawan again.
And he still didn't feel the least bit dead.
/ This just is not possible. It can't be! / He was
starting to get panicky now; the whole bizarre
situation was becoming too much for him. / Where *am*
I? /
//Where do you think you are?// the phantom voice in
his head asked gently.
"I don't know," he said out loud, and his voice
quivered. "I thought I was...dead."
A pause. Then, kindly, // Come inside, Padawan. //
"P-Padawan?" Obi-Wan echoed weakly. "But - but you -"
// Come inside. //
Obi-Wan stared at the door before him. He was
trembling all over with shock. Did he dare go inside?
It was Qui-Gon's voice in his head, he was sure of
it...but how could it be? How could it be *possible*?
/ There is no death, there is the Force. /
Through the chaos of his confused thoughts, the words
surfaced. There is no death...
So perhaps it could be. After all, Qui-Gon was dead
too, or in the Force, or whatever you wanted to call
it. Perhaps it *was* possible.
But what if he did open the door and go in and there
was no one there? What if it was just some bizarre
fantasy that his mind had dreamed up? Or worse, what
if this was punishment for all his many failures - to
be able to hear Qui-Gon, and to think it real, but
then to find out it was not? He did not think he would
be able to bear it if he opened the door and Qui-Gon
was not there after all.
/ Qui-Gon died a Jedi; he served the light all his
life. I made mistake after mistake. What makes me
think I would be allowed to see him now? What makes me
think he would even *want* to see me? /
He felt tears sting his eyes and fought to hold them
back. Perhaps it was punishment after all.
// Padawan, // the phantom voice said, and Obi-Wan
froze. // Obi-Wan...please. Come inside. //
The pull of that voice was too strong to resist, and
Obi-Wan's hand lifted, hovering over the keypad. That
hand was shaking badly as fear and longing did battle
inside him.
// I'll make it an order if I must, Padawan. //
There was a hint of steel in the voice that time, and
the tone caused the same reaction in Obi-Wan that it
had always had - obedience. Taking a deep breath, he
closed his eyes and pressed the entry command.
The door opened smoothly, just as it always had, and
Obi-Wan stood where he was for a long moment, trying
to steady his breathing. He was trembling with nerves.
/ Do it, / he ordered himself angrily. / Don't stand
here like an idiot. Just go in! /
He took a deep breath, and released it. Then another.
And another. He could feel tears forming.
/ I can't. /
// Padawan...please. //
And with those words, he had no choice. He took one
last steadying breath and stepped through the door.
Because of the position of the door relative to the
main room, the room itself had been mostly hidden from
view while he was hesitating outside. Now, however, he
had a clear view of it - and of who was in it.
Qui-Gon.
His Master was there, looking almost exactly as
Obi-Wan remembered him - a little younger, perhaps,
with a touch less grey in his long hair. He was
sitting on the couch with a datapad lying beside him,
and for all the world Obi-Wan could almost believe he
had gone back in time; the scene was so familiar. And
as he watched, frozen, Qui-Gon slowly stood up, his
eyes fixed on Obi-Wan.
"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was barely more than a
whisper. "Is - is that you?"
Qui-Gon smiled gently at him, and the smile was the
same, the eyes were the same, the very same eyes and
smile he had thought he would never see again, and it
was simply too much for him. With a strangled cry he
lurched forward, wanting nothing more than to touch
and be touched, hold and be held, and reassure himself
that this impossible dream really was true.
Qui-Gon strode out to meet him, and he was caught up
in a fierce embrace as the larger man gathered him
into his arms. Eyes burning, Obi-Wan buried his face
against his Master's shoulder and clung to him as if
he were drowning. He almost felt like he was drowning,
only in emotions rather than water. Clinging
desperately to Qui-Gon, he thought briefly that he
would have preferred the water.
Qui-Gon's hand came up to cradle the back of his head.
"Oh, Obi-Wan," he said, and his voice was rough with
emotion. "I have missed you so."
Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat at the naked
affection in Qui-Gon's tone. "I've missed you too," he
said huskily. "So much, Master." The last word was
almost a sob.
"Shh," Qui-Gon said gently. "It's all right, Obi-Wan.
I'm here now." His other hand began to rub slow
circles on Obi-Wan's back. It was the same comforting
gesture he had used when Obi-Wan was a boy, and it
almost reduced Obi-Wan to tears then and there. But
long habit stubbornly refused to let him break down,
so he gritted his teeth against the sobs that wanted
to come and settled for nuzzling his face deeper into
Qui-Gon's tunic. The sense of comfort it gave him was
indescribable. For so many years he had longed to feel
Qui-Gon's touch again, to be held and soothed and
cared for, and suddenly it was all his for the
taking...
/ I don't deserve this. /
The thought hit him like a rush of cold water, and he
stiffened, pulling out of Qui-Gon's embrace and taking
several steps backwards.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was concerned. He started
forward, and Obi-Wan's hands came up to ward him off.
"I can't do this," he said hoarsely. "I can't."
Qui-Gon shook his head in bewilderment. "Can't do
what? Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?"
"I don't deserve it," Obi-Wan said. His voice wavered
uncertainly. "I made so many mistakes...I failed so
many times..."
He dropped suddenly to one knee, bowing his head so
that his braid fell forward over his shoulder. "I must
ask your pardon, Master," he choked out. "I failed
you. I failed your teachings. You asked me to train
Anakin and I tried, I swear I tried, but I failed.
Innocent people died because of what I did." He looked
up at Qui-Gon through a blur of unshed tears. "I...I
am so sorry."
Qui-Gon knelt down as well, placing his hands on
Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Padawan, you have nothing to
apologise for. Because of you, there is still hope."
"I failed you!"
"You did not. You were true to the Jedi ways until the
end. You lived by what I taught you. That is no
failure."
Obi-Wan shook his head stubbornly. "I failed you,
Master. I failed you, and I failed Anakin."
"No, Padawan, you did not," Qui-Gon said sternly.
"Anakin made his choice. There were things you could
have done better, perhaps, but ultimately the choice
was his and he made it. You are not responsible for
that."
Obi-Wan's eyes stung; he wrestled the tears back. "I
was his Master."
"And I was Xanatos's Master. Do you think I cannot
recall how it felt to lose an apprentice to the dark?"
"But Xanatos -"
"Made his choice, as Anakin made his. I was not to
blame, Padawan, and neither were you."
Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to the floor and said
nothing. Qui-Gon's hands on his shoulders tightened.
"Padawan, you must believe me. You were not to blame
for Anakin's fall."
Obi-Wan shook his head blindly. His vision was
blurring with tears and it was taking all the strength
he had not to give into them.
Qui-Gon shook him gently. "Obi-Wan, look at me."
Obi-Wan did not respond.
"Padawan!"
Qui-Gon's voice was sharp, and Obi-Wan's head lifted
automatically in response to that tone. He looked up
at Qui-Gon through a crystal blur and felt the tears
spill over and down his cheeks. A sob caught in his
throat and he fought against it, refusing to break
down.
"I failed you, Master," he said, and his voice was
thick with tears. "I failed Anakin. I made mistake
after mistake. I do not deserve happiness here. I
don't deserve to be with you." He took a deep, shaky
breath, trying with all his might not to cry. His head
throbbed with the effort. "I deserve punishment -
retribution. I must...I must pay for what I did
wrong." He bowed his head again, squeezing his eyes
shut against the treacherous tears.
"You did not fail me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gravely.
Obi-Wan shook his head despairingly. "Yes, I did."
Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "Padawan, this is getting us
nowhere. I say you did not fail, you say that you did.
You are here with me now, which I presume to say is
what we have both longed for. What can I do to
convince you that you are allowed to feel joy about
that fact? What can I do to convince you that the
failure was not yours?"
Obi-Wan's head drooped even further. "I...I don't
know." His voice was pained, despairing. "I just know
that I deserve...punishment."
There was a long silence. Then Qui-Gon spoke, and his
voice was stern. "Very well, Padawan. You want
punishment? I will give it to you."
Obi-Wan looked up, startled. "What?"
"You feel you deserve punishment? Very well. There is
clearly nothing I can say to convince you otherwise,
so I will do the only other thing I can do. I will
give you your punishment. Then perhaps you can let go
of this unattractive belief that the entire universe
revolves around your actions."
"Revolves around my actions?" Obi-Wan echoed, hurt.
"How can you say that, Master? It was *my* fault! I am
only taking responsibility for what I myself did!"
"You are not. You are taking responsibility for what
you did, for what I did, for what Anakin did, for what
that cursed Sith Lord did...and probably more than
that. You are not responsible for the actions of
others, Padawan. They make their own choices. But If
you feel you must accept punishment for what occurred,
then I will see that you receive it."
"You'll...you'll punish me, Master?" Obi-Wan's voice
was soft with confusion. "How?"
"The same way I always punished you, Padawan," Qui-Gon
replied. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten."
Obi-Wan blanched. "You - you mean you'll - "
"Spank you? Yes. You wanted punishment, you will have
it."
"But Master...a spanking? That's not - that isn't
really -"
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope you were
not about to claim that a spanking is not real
punishment, Obi-Wan," he said, rather grimly. "If so,
you have clearly forgotten the details of the
experience."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest further, but
nothing came out. He could scarcely believe the turn
this conversation had taken. Yes, he believed with all
his heart that he should pay some penalty for what he
had done wrong, but a spanking? Was Qui-Gon out of his
mind?
"Hardly, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, startling him. "Now,
enough stalling. You will not listen to me, so we will
see if a more direct form of persuasion will have any
effect."
Obi-Wan stared up at him, disbelieving, and Qui-Gon
paused long enough to trail a gentle hand across his
cheek. "I am doing this for you, Obi-Wan," he said
softly. "If you must have punishment to release some
of this guilt you carry, then I will give it to you."
Obi-Wan felt the sharp sting of tears again. "I
just...I just want to be forgiven," he said miserably.
"I forgive you, Padawan, though I still say there is
nothing to forgive. But my forgiveness is
inconsequential. *You* must forgive yourself."
Obi-Wan looked deeply into Qui-Gon's eyes for a long
moment, searching his feelings. Finally, he nodded. He
trusted Qui-Gon; would trust him with his life. If
Qui-Gon believed this was the way, then he must
comply. "Very well, Master," he said quietly. "I...I
submit myself to your discipline."
Qui-Gon looked at him a moment longer, then nodded
decisively and stood. "All right, Padawan. Come with
me."
Obi-Wan got to his feet and followed Qui-Gon as he
strode off into his bedroom. It too looked exactly the
way Obi-Wan remembered it, right down to the picture
of Qui-Gon's first apprentice on the shelf above the
desk, and he spared a moment to be surprised all over
again. Was the whole temple somehow replicated in this
afterlife? He then wondered if this room had actually
existed at all before they had walked into it, or
whether the whole place simply formed as necessary.
Now that they were in here, did the main room still
exist? He was tempted to go back out and see, but he
didn't think Qui-Gon would be impressed, so he put a
lid on his nervous curiosity and directed his
attention back towards his Master.
Once inside, Qui-Gon walked straight over to his desk
and pulled the chair out into the middle of the room.
He then went to the closet, opened it and produced
something that made Obi-Wan flinch, even after so many
years. The paddle looked as vicious as it always had,
and he would be willing to bet that even here, in the
Force, it would hurt as much as it ever had as well.
He swallowed hard. This was going to be very
unpleasant.
/ That's what you wanted, isn't it? Punishment? It
isn't meant to be fun. /
Qui-Gon walked back over to the chair and sat down,
directing a steady gaze at Obi-Wan. "Come here,
Padawan," he said firmly.
Obi-Wan crossed the room to where Qui-Gon sat and
stood before him, head bowed, awaiting instructions.
The position he now found himself in was distressingly
familiar. He had been in it numerous times over the
course of his apprenticeship to Qui-Gon, and he could
not recall enjoying any of them. The fact that he was
no longer an apprentice seemed to have completely
deserted him. He had been a full Jedi Knight, had
trained an apprentice of his own, and yet it felt so
natural to be Qui-Gon's Padawan again. He wasn't sure
if it was because he seemed to have morphed back into
one, or just something that happened once you were
dead, but he did know that he didn't feel any
different at all to the way he had as a Padawan. A
disobedient Padawan, no less, about to receive the
punishment he had due. It was more than a little
unnerving.
Qui-Gon's eyes were on him, assessing him, and Obi-Wan
squirmed a little under the intense scrutiny. "Are you
still prepared to accept punishment from me, Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon asked.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said. He spoke softly, but
without hesitation. "If you think this is right, I
trust your judgement."
Qui-Gon nodded. "All right then, Padawan, take your
pants down and bend over my lap."
Obi-Wan felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, but
he did as he was told, untying the drawstring on his
pants and pushing them down to his knees. Stepping
forward, he bent over Qui-Gon's lap, bracing his legs
back behind him and putting his hands on the floor for
balance. Qui-Gon adjusted his position, moving him
forward and lifting one knee so that Obi-Wan's feet
actually left the floor.
"Unfair," Obi-Wan mumbled, trying to find the floor
with his feet again and failing. Above him, Qui-Gon
chuckled sympathetically.
"You did ask for this, Padawan," he said mildly.
"I know," Obi-Wan said unhappily. He had forgotten
just how humiliated this position made him feel.
"All right, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, his voice stern
once again. "Let me tell you why you are being
punished."
"I thought I was supposed to tell you." That was the
way it had usually occurred.
"Not this time, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon placed a firm hand
in the small of his back. "You believe that this
punishment is because you failed me, and made so many
mistakes in your life that you deserve some kind of
retribution for them. That is not the case. This
punishment is because you are clinging to the peculiar
idea that you are somehow responsible for the choices
of everyone you come into contact with. You are taking
the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders and you
seem to believe that everything you did was wrong. I
can only conclude that this staggering lack of
confidence came from losing Anakin, and I can
understand that." The hand in the small of Obi-Wan's
back moved up to settle briefly on the back of his
neck, comforting, then returned to its station.
"However," Qui-Gon continued, "as much as I feel that
you have done nothing that you need to atone for, you
will not listen to me. You insist you must pay for
your imagined wrongs. I care for you deeply, Obi-Wan,
and I will not allow this wallowing in guilt to
continue. If you must have punishment, then I will
give you punishment, and as I do, you must work on
letting go of this freighter-load of guilt that you
carry. Then, perhaps, we can go on from here."
"Go on?" Obi-Wan asked, confused. "Go on where,
Master? We're *dead*."
"There is no death, there is the Force, Obi-Wan. Keep
that in mind." Qui-Gon's hand pressed down a little
harder on the small of his back. "Now, let's get this
over with."
Obi-Wan braced himself, closing his eyes tightly and
waiting for the first blow. He didn't have to wait
long; a moment later Qui-Gon delivered a thunderously
hard swat to each cheek, and his eyes flew open in
astonishment. That *definitely* hurt more than he
remembered!
A second pair of swats followed, then a third, and
Obi-Wan clenched his hands into fists, wishing he had
something to hold onto. Qui-Gon was not holding back
at all - apparently he'd been going easy on Obi-Wan
when he had been in this position previously - and the
swats stung unbearably. He gritted his teeth and
prepared to hold out, feeling his mental walls start
to spring up.
/ I will not cry, / he told himself firmly.
The spanking began in earnest then, and Obi-Wan was
soon breathing in short gasps, his hands clenching and
unclenching, biting his lip in a frantic effort to
remain silent. He was managing to hold back the yelps
- just - but he couldn't help squirming as Qui-Gon's
strong hand descended over and over again, setting up
a fierce burn across his defenseless backside. The
punishment proceeded slowly and methodically, slap
after heavy slap, and Obi-Wan's breathing grew more
and more laboured as he struggled not to cry out. He
flinched with each blow, his body twisting
instinctively even as he tried to force it still. He
felt tears forming yet again and tried to push them
back.
/ I will not cry! /
But it was just becoming too much - the strangeness of
the whole situation was only compounded by the painful
and humiliating punishment he was now receiving. And
the fact that it was Qui-Gon who was delivering the
punishment made it that much harder to cope with. His
eyes stung fiercely and his vision blurred as he
thought about how only a short time ago he had
believed he would never see Qui-Gon again.
The swats continued, each one hurting more than the
last, and Obi-Wan felt the tears spill over. He fought
against the sobs that wanted to follow them, breathing
in short, hard bursts in an attempt to hold them back.
He managed - barely - but the tears continued to fall
and he seemed powerless to stop them.
Qui-Gon delivered a last flurry of swats and then
stopped, his hand resting lightly on Obi-Wan's
scorched cheeks. "All right, Padawan, that was your
warm-up. Now the real punishment starts." His voice
was soft, regretful, and Obi-Wan could almost feel how
it was hurting Qui-Gon to do this to him. But - had he
said...?
"W-warm-up?" he gasped out, and Qui-Gon sighed.
"You wanted punishment, Obi-Wan. You insisted. And I
think I see now just how much you need it. Not for me
or anyone else to forgive you, but to forgive
yourself. And, I think, to let go of some of that iron
control you seem so set on keeping."
Obi-Wan panted for breath, tears still spilling over.
His backside was on fire, and that was only the
warm-up? He didn't think he would be able to bear it.
/ But I deserve it! / he thought fiercely. / I failed
him! I deserve all that he gives me! /
He closed his eyes again, bracing himself, and
prepared to take his punishment as a Jedi.
However, that did not stop him from flinching when
Qui-Gon picked up the paddle and laid it gently
against his superheated skin. He heard another sigh.
"I am sorry that I have to do this, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
said gently.
"I know - Master -" he choked out, but the words ended
on a yelp of pain as Qui-Gon delivered the first swat.
That paddle *hurt*, and Qui-Gon had deliberately taken
him by surprise with it. He had no time to be angry,
however, because a second swat followed, then a third,
and the spanking began again with a vengeance. But
with the paddle, it hurt a *lot* more.
Obi-Wan was squirming almost immediately, scarcely
able to believe the pain that innocent piece of wood
was causing him. The tears he had been unable to stop
were falling continuously now; his face was wet with
them. Still he struggled against the sobs, trying not
to cry out, but he could feel he was losing the
battle. And when Qui-Gon upped both the pace and the
force of the blows, he could hold out no longer.
Obi-Wan yelped sharply at the first harder blow,
unable to help himself. Another cry was torn from him
as the second swat caught him on a particularly sore
spot. And as the following swats came not only harder
but faster as well, he was soon crying out with each
blow, squirming and twisting in a frantic effort to
remove himself from the line of fire. But Qui-Gon had
him pinned, and there was no way he could get free.
After a dozen more swats, the yelps of pain had merged
into one continuous miserable wail, and finally the
dam broke; all his carefully constructed mental walls
simply crumbled and he began to sob. And once he
started, he was totally unable to stop.
Qui-Gon continued to spank him for at least another
minute or two while Obi-Wan sobbed heartrendingly over
his lap, his entire body shaking with each painful
heave. When the punishment finally did stop, it barely
registered with Obi-Wan. He was, on some level, aware
that he was no longer being spanked, but the pain in
his backside - which was truly phenomenal by now - was
no longer what he was crying about. It had merely been
the trigger for him to cry about any number of other
things that had deserved tears, only he had refused to
shed them. It was as if some huge internal dam had
broken and all he could do was weep.
He was dimly aware of Qui-Gon's hand on his back,
stroking gently, and of Qui-Gon murmuring comfortingly
to him, although he could not make out what was being
said. His whole body was shuddering with sobs, he
could barely see through the tears, and his head was
throbbing so badly that he could no longer even think
coherently. All he could feel was pain, both inside
and outside, and all he could do about it was cry.
He was aware of being lifted, and laid down on the
bed, and of Qui-Gon climbing onto the bed beside him
and taking him into his arms. He could hear Qui-Gon's
deep, soothing voice in his ear, talking to him,
telling him that everything would be all right.
Obi-Wan only response was to fist his hands in the
material of Qui-Gon's tunic and cry even harder.
It went on like that for a long time, Obi-Wan was
sure, although he had no idea of how long. It seemed
endless, driven by an endless supply of tears that
would no longer be denied. But finally, it seemed, the
supply decided that it was not endless after all; the
painful sobs racking his body began to quiet, and the
heavy flow of tears slowed to a mere trickle.
When he finally came fully back to himself, he was
lying on the bed, still held tightly against Qui-Gon.
His face was buried in Qui-Gon's shoulder, and that
portion of Qui-Gon's tunic was soaked through. He felt
dreadful - his eyes ached and his head throbbed
fiercely - but on some deep-down level he also felt
better. Lighter.
He shifted in Qui-Gon's arms, and was released; he
tilted his head up to see Qui-Gon looking at him with
an expression of deep compassion. "Better, Padawan?"
Qui-Gon asked gently.
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Actually, yes." His voice was
hoarse. "I feel awful - but better."
Qui-Gon nodded. "You carried a terrible burden in your
life, Obi-Wan, and you made it much harder on yourself
by not allowing yourself any release." He caressed
Obi-Wan's cheek softly. "My poor Padawan."
Obi-Wan smiled a little. "I hadn't cried - not really
cried - since you...died."
"And it took punishment for you to find your release.
I did not want to do it, Obi-Wan, but it seems you
were right in wanting it. It helped you. And I
sincerely hope it helped you to forgive yourself,
too."
"I think it did, Master - at the very least I think it
was...a good start." He rubbed a hand across his face,
still damp with tears. "Perhaps I will be able to go
on from here after all."
"You will, Padawan," Qui-Gon said. "But for now, rest
with me here. Let me make you feel loved and cared
for, as you always wanted. We have time...although
your young friend may be needing your advice before
too long."
Obi-Wan looked up, startled. "Luke? Is he all right?
Did they -?"
Qui-Gon put a finger to his lips. "Hush, Padawan. We
have time now. Luke will call you when he needs you."
Seeing Obi-Wan's concern, he added, "Trust me."
Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment longer, then
nodded, relaxing. Trust Qui-Gon...yes, he could do
that. He could always do that.
Alive or dead, there was nobody he trusted more.
End