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He had dismissed the boy from the start. He’s too like Xanatos, his mind whispered. Where Obi-Wan had drive and a will to excel, Qui-Gon saw greed and ambition. Where the boy had a strong sense of justice, Qui-Gon saw anger and vengeance. He saw now how badly he had miscalculated.
Now that it was too late.
He saw again in his mind’s eye the moment when it all fell apart. Xanatos, leaping out of the shadows, not with a lightsaber, but with a vibroknife. Obi-Wan, stepping between them to meet the blow.
It was a moment that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Wondering if he’d been just a bit more observant of his surroundings, a bit less distracted, if he could have saved him. If only this or that had been different, if only, if only.
Even as he felt his newly melted heart being carved out of his chest, Qui-Gon gained an absolute clarity of purpose, his last reservation about fighting his former pupil dispersing like smoke. He ignited his lightsaber as he stepped in front of the boy, who had fallen to his knees on the ground, and his eyes didn’t waver from his enemy though he knew the wound to be fatal. There was no room for anger or hurt betrayal in him now; he was filled only with the cold certainty that this man could not be allowed to continue on causing harm.
The fight was brutal, and short. But despite his best efforts he knew as he shut down his lightsaber that it had been too long. He called for a med team anyway.
The boy was gasping for breath when he reached him. He knelt down, gathering him up into his arms. “Obi-Wan.” The name escaped him in a breath of air that was more like a sob.
Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open. “Master Jinn?” he asked weakly.
“I’m here, Obi-Wan. Oh child, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been a fool.”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “Not a fool. Greatest… Jedi Master… I know.”
Qui-Gon smiled self-deprecatingly. “Ah, but I am a fool. And quite bad at dealing with people, to boot. But I am a fool because it took me this long to realize that you are more worthy to be a Jedi than I perhaps ever will be.”
Obi-Wan, whose eyes had slipped shut again, opened them in shock at this declaration and listened to the following statements in equal awe.
“I was wrong to reject you. I see now that it was no flaw of yours which led me to do so, but my own fear of failing someone as badly as I failed Xanatos. I – Obi-Wan Kenobi, I humbly ask if you would do the honor of becoming my Padawan?”
Obi-Wan hiccoughed painfully in shock. “You… you mean it? You’re not… joking?”
“Yes,” Qui-Gon said, trying to adjust his hold so Obi-Wan would be more comfortable. “I would never joke about something like this.”
“I – I’m dying, aren’t I?”
Qui-Gon didn’t have it in him to lie to the boy. “Yes. But that is not why I asked.”
A small smile lit Obi-Wan’s face, “Then… the honor is mine… Master Jinn.”
Qui-Gon smiled back, and carefully shifted Obi-Wan in his lap so he would have his hands free. He separated a strand of his new apprentice’s hair, and began to braid it. He murmured the traditional words about the Master, the Apprentice, and the Force as he plaited, Obi-Wan saying it with him, pausing when the boy needed to stop for air. He tugged a loose thread from his robe to tie the braid with, not having anything else on hand. Obi-Wan reached up weakly, and Qui-Gon guided his hand to touch the newest addition to his hair.
“It’s perfect,” he said with a smile. It faltered as he had to cough; blood came out on his chest and chin. The drops were a vibrant red against the dirty white fabric.
Qui-Gon frowned in worry, squeezing the boy’s hand. He’d been using the Force to staunch the flow of blood out of the wound, but he had not the skill to do anything about internal bleeding.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t try to talk too much,” Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan frowned, then bit his lip. “Perhaps,” he whispered. “Tell me a story?”
“Very well.” Qui-Gon said. He cast around for something appropriate, but all he could see was the child in front of him. Well, start there. “There was once a young Jedi apprentice. He was a little impetuous, and insecure, but he was very kind. His Master thought he had the biggest heart of all the Jedi.” He looked down, and saw Obi-Wan smiling, with eyes a little wet. In the Force, Qui-Gon could tell he was distracted from the pain. Good.
“His path was not easy,” he continued. “No Jedi’s ever is, but his was harder than most. The Padawan faced many trials – through them, he learned patience, and skill. He learned when to wait, and when to act. Most importantly, he learned to trust in himself, and in the Force.” Qui-Gon reminded himself to hold strong in his own faith in the Force, despite his emotions. “One day, he faced the greatest trial yet; in the midst of grief, and anger, and fear, he held tight to the core of himself as a Jedi, and so doing defeated his foe.” A flash of blue and red. A pit. A leap, and a flash of green. He shook his head to clear it of the vision. “Soon after, he was knighted.”
“Thank you,” murmured Obi-Wan.
“Oh, but the story doesn’t end there,” said Qui-Gon with forced lightness.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
“Of course not. The Apprenticeship is only the beginning of a Jedi’s journey. There were many more adventures in store for our Knight.”
“Such as?” came the raspy question.
“I… cannot think of any,” Qui-Gon admitted.
Obi-Wan bit back a giggle, knowing it would hurt. He smiled, instead.
For a few minutes, they just sat there: Obi-Wan in Qui-Gon’s lap, Qui-Gon running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. Obi-Wan felt very safe, though he was still in pain. He focused on breathing. In, out. Each breath was a struggle. But the knowledge that he was a Padawan, that someone wanted him, kept him going.
At length, he murmured, “Master Qui-Gon?”
“Yes, Obi-Wan?”
“You won’t forget me, will you?”
Qui-Gon’s concerned face crumpled a little, then firmed. “Never,” he said.
Obi-Wan relaxed. “Good.” Then he frowned, another thought coming to him. “But… don’t get lost in it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Qui-Gon.
“You said, before, that you were – you were –” he had to stop for another coughing fit. More blood dribbled out of his mouth.
“No, no, it’s all right, you don’t need to tell me, just rest,” Qui-Gon shushed him, holding him while he shook. “I’ve got you. Don’t speak, just breathe. Stay with me.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said when he could breathe again. “It’s important.”
Qui-Gon sighed. “All right, then. Take your time.”
Obi-Wan took a moment to just breathe, and tried to figure out exactly what it was he wanted to say, and how to say it. “You said that… that before, you were… wrong about me. That when you said I was… too angry… and would fall… it wasn’t me, really. You were… afraid of yourself. Of failing.” He looked up at Qui-Gon for confirmation.
“Yes. I feared teaching another student after Xanatos because I felt that any I taught would turn out like him. When I looked at you, I saw Xanatos, and his flaws, instead of the person you were.”
“And how many initiates did you do that to, before me?” asked Obi-Wan shrewdly.
Qui-Gon blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Quite a few, I suspect.”
“Right. You can’t… do that again. Let yourself be… overcome, I mean, by your fear… or grief, or guilt. If you ever… take another padawan – no! You might. Ok? But if you do, you have to… have to see them. Not Xanatos… and not me.”
“You are right, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, smiling. “You are very wise, for a boy of only 12.”
“Almost 13.”
“Yes. Almost 13, and already wiser than even Master Yoda.”
The boy breathed a laugh, despite the pain. “You have to promise.”
“Hmm?”
“Promise me you won’t… won’t wallow.”
“I swear.” Qui-Gon wasn’t sure he’d manage all the time – he wasn’t very practiced at it, it seemed. But the boy was right, and something needed to change. If need be, he’d even go to the Temple mind healers. “I will remember you always, Obi-Wan, but I won’t let myself get lost in it.”
Obi-Wan felt all the tension go out of his body, and with it, much of his remaining strength. “I’m… glad,” he managed. Numbness was creeping throughout his body. And though he much preferred it to feeling like his entire torso was on fire, he didn’t think that was a good sign. He was afraid. “Sing to me,” he requested. In the crèche, the Masters would often sing lullabies when the children were afraid. Whether they had had a nightmare, or disliked the dark, or simply needed a bit of comfort. Obi-Wan needed that comfort now.
“I can do that,” said Qui-Gon. He tucked the boy closer in, closing his own eyes so the child wouldn’t see the tears lurking in them. He began to sing, a song from his own childhood before he came to the Jedi:
“Rest now my child
Your troubles are over
Rest here among
The Sorrel and Clover
No monsters can catch you
You’re safe here with me
The fighting is done
In the morning you’ll see
The sun will rise brighter
Than ever before
Your burdens all lifted
Be weary no more
Rest now my child
Your troubles are over
Rest here among
The Sorrel and Clover
I know it is hard
You are hurt and confused
You are so very young
To have been so abused
But relax now, dear child
There’s nothing to fear
I’ll guard your repose
Let no nightmares near
Rest now my child
Your troubles are over
Rest here among
The Sorrel and Clover
You’ve been fighting so long
In the dark and the cold
Come sit by the fire
Let your story be told
You will live on forever
In the stories we tell
But for now little warrior
Goodnight and sleep well
Rest now my child
Your troubles are over
Rest here among
The Sorrel and Clover”
* * * *
When the med team arrived, they found a man kneeling on the ground, curled around a small body he held in his lap, tears streaming silently down his face. Another body lay some distance away. The man, a Jedi, let them tend to his minor hurts, but refused to be parted from the child’s body for anything. The boy had a small braid woven into his hair, which the man kept fingering.
One of the attendants, who knew a bit about Jedi custom, asked, “Was this youngling your apprentice? He looks so young.”
The Jedi Master looked up, coming back to himself, and seemed to age 10 years as he did. “Yes, he was. For all of 15 minutes.”