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"You will be renewed and transferred off-planet," Terra says with sadistic satisfaction at the idea of wiping Obi-Wan's memory. Try as the young Jedi might, the fear shows plainly on his face. Betraying him. The Phindian's face softens. "Don't worry, rebel. It's not as bad as people say."
There is a glimmer of sorrow in her eye. Though he's barely holding back the quiver of his lip, Obi-Wan dares to ask the girl a question. "Do you miss your family?"
He half expects to get hit for that sort of inquiry, but instead, Terra looks at him with this faraway gaze. "How can you miss what you do not remember?"
Somehow the prospect of not being able to miss his past life because there is nothing to remember is all the more terrifying. As Terra leaves him alone with promises to return for his memory wipe, Obi-Wan curls in on himself. There must be a way to overcome this! Guerra had told him some strong-minded beings are able to withstand the effects of the wipe.
Perhaps... the Force could protect him?
It's his only hope. Obi-Wan gathers the Force around him, ignoring the opening of the door and the device placed around his head. It squeezed tight against his temples. As the whir of electricity starts to power the machine the headgear is attached to, the pressure grows worse and worse.
Obi-Wan, still clutching to the safety of the Force's barriers around his mind, loses the ability to control everything else. He screams, hardly recognizing the pitch of his own terror. There's shuffling around the room. Buttons being pressed. The whirring increased.
Black dots dance in front of his already tunneling vision. Obi-Wan reminds himself of the tenants of the Jedi.
Peace over anger.
He grips the fabric of his cloak. Of the hard lump that has been in his pocket since Qui-Gon gifted him the river stone before their first mission together began.
Honor over hate.
His vision explodes with stars of white, blue, and yellow. They twirl and flip and make him nauseous as the tunnel nears complete darkness.
Strength over...
Qui-Gon is usually one to stop and browse in a marketplace, but this time he ignores the pitches of stall owners and the fliers that are attempted to be thrust into his hands. He has one objective here on Gala.
Find Obi-Wan.
The mission on Phindar was a catastrophe— not that he particularly cares about the state of their objective when his padawan has been missing since the warehouse heist. Guilt riddles the Jedi Master as he frantically searches every face he passes.
This was their first mission together.
Qui-Gon didn't want another padawan, but this is not what he meant. Besides, that sentiment of remaining student-less has been quickly replaced by the reminder of how much he liked being a master. Obi-Wan reminded him of Xanatos in a handful of ways, but he was different in the ways that mattered. The boy's anger was more controlled than he previously believed. Not more than any other thirteen-year-old— Qui-Gon was merely being picky. Obi-Wan was kind and thoughtful and—
Qui-Gon stops in his tracks, a lump forming in his throat as he realizes he just thought about Obi-Wan in the past tense.
None of that, he tells himself before continuing on his search. I'll find him. I must.
As though the Force is answering his pleads, Qui-Gon gets the sudden urge to turn around. As he does, he bears witness to a crime being committed.
A stall owner is yelling at someone, pushing through the crowd with a wooden staff wound up to swing. Qui-Gon follows the direction of his anger to a scrawny, spiky-haired boy clutching a loaf of bread.
Obi-Wan!
The Jedi pushes through the crowd, placing himself between Obi-Wan and the stall owner.
"Apologies," he says, digging through his pocket for credits. "I told my boy to pick out a loaf and left my currency at the last stall," Qui-Gon drops a generous handful of credits into the perplexed stall owner's palm. "Does this cover your cost?"
"Y-yes, sir, uh, sorry for yellin' at the kid," the baker says before shoving the credits in his pocket as though Qui-Gon might try to take them back.
"No harm," he says before turning to the wide-eyed boy that stands frozen. Qui-Gon crouches down in front of him. "Obi-Wan? Are you alright?"
For a moment, Qui-Gon has hope that maybe he's okay. Perhaps just hungry and disoriented, but still Obi-Wan. He stuck around, after all. That hope dwindles when he attempts to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and the boy jerks away as though Qui-Gon has burned him.
"Who are you?" There is not an ounce of recognition in his bright blue eyes. Not for Qui-Gon nor his own name.
What little hope he has left vanishes.
“I’m here to help you,” Qui-Gon says carefully. As much as he wants to try and explain it all, he knows he cannot scare him at a time his mind must be so vulnerable.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Even with his memory wiped, he has good instincts. Qui-Gon can feel Obi-Wan unknowingly brushing up against his mind through the Force. Gauging whether or not Qui-Gon is one to trust. Though he seems to have decided that this stranger’s intentions are pure, he still maintains his distance. Careful and calculated.
Obi-Wan is still in there.
“You don’t remember how you got here, do you? Nor do you know your name or where you even are?”
The boy’s mouth twitches into a brief frown, but he does not confirm or deny Qui-Gon’s claim.
“I know who you are and how you got here,” Obi-Wan takes a step back and Qui-Gon shakes his head. “I was not the one who did this to you, though. Please. I just want to help,” an idea suddenly comes into Qui-Gon’s head. He glances down to where there is a small lump in the pocket of Obi-Wan’s robes. “You carry something that one belonged to me and I gifted to you for your thirteenth birthday. A stone, smooth and dark in color. When you touch it, it sings in a very particular way.”
Obi-Wan’s brows knit together in confusion, but when his hand falls to his pocket he finds the stone straightaway. The boy takes it out with wide eyes, and Qui-Gon can feel its Force sensitivity melodizing just as he claimed.
The boy closes his fingers around the rock and meets Qui-Gon’s eyes again. The tears that have sprung up along his waterline surprise him. It takes everything in Qui-Gon to not pull him into a hug.
“I don’t know who I am, sir.”
There is a piece of crumpled flimsy in his pocket with a list:
- My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi
- The man who found me’s name is Qui-Gon Jinn
- I am a Jedi Padawan
- My memory was erased by the Syndicat
- I am safe.
The last is more of a reminder whenever his heart starts beating too fast for one who is sitting still.
I am safe. My memory is gone, but I am safe.
Despite this being his constant chant since he left Gala, Obi-Wan is not quite sure he believes it yet. All he knows is that he trusts Qui-Gon Jinn. He can’t explain why he trusts him, he just does.
“Okay Obi-Wan,” a new voice makes his head snap up. Qui-Gon, who has been holding his hand since they arrived at this massive, strange city, squeezes it in support. An unsaid you can trust them. “They are ready for you.”
They is the Jedi Council, according to Qui-Gon. Or, a few members of it, at least. Obi-Wan is led into a large circular room with massive floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the heavily populated city. A ring of various shaped and sized chairs line the room, but none of them are occupied. Instead, there are about half a dozen people seated on cushions in the center of the dimly lit room.
“Welcome home, Obi-Wan,” a small green being says to him in a croaky voice. He pats the empty cushions beside him and Qui-Gon gives Obi-Wan a nod to sit. He lets go of Obi-Wan’s hand but quickly shifts so he’s pressing his palm against his right shoulder blade instead.
Obi-Wan stares up at the vaulted ceilings and the beautiful art upon the walls near where they came in. “I live here?”
A man with dark skin and a bald head nods. “You grew up here, yes. Whether you remember it or not, the Temple will always be your home.”
Now that the man says it, Obi-Wan does feel a sense of calm here. It’s not familiar but it’s safe.
I am safe. My memory is gone, but I am safe.
“Obi-Wan do you remember anyone here?” Qui-Gon asks.
He examines each carefully. Besides the green guy and the bald man, there is one with blue skin and large head tails cascading down their back. This being wears similar clothing to the healers he saw when he got on the ship to come back here, and a headpiece that wraps around their tails.
Next, is a humanoid with leathery burnt orange skin that folds and wrinkles around goggles and a mouthpiece that makes Obi-Wan assume they must not be accustomed to this atmosphere. He has no visible eyes to give Obi-Wan an idea of where he is looking, but he can feel his gaze upon him.
Finally, a reptilian being with pale green skin and kind gold eyes is the last Jedi in the group. His tendrils of white hair hang down in leather-bound locks, slightly swaying as he looks between the others.
“I’m afraid not,” he says softly.
Qui-Gon points to the reptilian. “Master Tera Sinube. He was one of your Jedi Arts teachers when you were a youngling,” next to the one with the goggles and respirator. “Master Plo Koon. Another council member who was one of your teachers as well,” He nods to the one with the head tails. “Master Vokara Che is one of our best Healers,” and then to the dark-skinned man. “And Master Mace Windu is one of our Order leaders along with,” finally he gestures to the small green Jedi. “Master Yoda.”
None of their names spark anything, which is disappointing. But they evoke that same feeling that Obi-Wan gets for Qui-Gon— he can trust them.
“We are going to help find out if we can recover your memory, Obi-Wan,” Master Che says with a gentle smile. Even though Obi-Wan does not remember these people he can sense they are taking an especially delicate approach. Qui-Gon was in this room for a while before they brought him in and he can only guess what he prefaced with.
“I would like that... I think.”
“You think?” Master Yoda repeats. Obi-Wan nods.
“Well, assuming my life was one worth remembering,” he says. Beside him, Qui-Gon stiffens, which makes Obi-Wan laugh uncomfortably. “I was only... joking...”
“Glad to see you have retained your sense of humor,” Master Koon cuts in, making Obi-Wan’s anxiety ease. “And every life is one to be remembered. No matter the good or bad memories that may be there.”
A little memory loss humor is not appreciated here then. Noted.
“So... how will this work then?” Obi-Wan asks. “Will it hurt?”
Qui-Gon is taking his hand again. Another squeeze and a look of patience and ease. “We are just doing a group meditation today. To get a sense of your state of mind and we will go from there.”
It doesn’t hurt. In fact, it’s quite relaxing. The Jedi Masters instruct him to breathe deeply and give him a few pointers on how to ground himself in this thing they call the Force. It seems like an impossible task until he follows their directions and slips into a meditative state with ease.
It’s as easy as walking. Or breathing. Feeling surrounded by this strange buzz of energy is a strange state, but the way his mind seems to respond so reflexively is comforting. This is who he was before his memory was taken from him. He was a Jedi— is a Jedi.
Obi-Wan feels the other Masters prodding at him. Their distinguishable signatures test him with gentle pressure. Master Koon is the first, wrapping around him like a friendly embrace. Masters Yoda and Windu are systematic. Master Che dares to press a little harder, but it still never hurts. Qui-Gon remains in Obi-Wan’s peripheral, wrapped in the safety of their training bond— that’s what he called it. He is closer than the others but does not dare to push.
Master Sinube’s energy is warm but serious. He does not strum along old bonds or intermingle his presence with Obi-Wan’s. He is a bystander, for the most part, only revealing his presence when he brushes against his training bond.
And then it’s over. He feels the rest of them pull away and some instinct he cannot explain causes Obi-Wan to follow them back to the present. The room is spinning when he opens his eyes— or rather, the various faces leaning over him are spinning as he has already been lowered to a laying position.
“His shields are so tight he’s exhausting himself,” Master Che is speaking to Qui-Gon now, a displeased frown across her face as she subconsciously brushes Obi-Wan’s hair from his forehead. The repetitive motion is making it harder and harder to keep his heavy eyelids ajar. “I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.”
“I concur,” Master Sinube’s gravelly voice cuts in. It’s the first Obi-Wan has heard him speak. He sounds much older than he looks. “The method the Syndicat uses is...” Obi-Wan’s hearing starts to grow warbled as his exhaustion takes the reins. “...so those who are stronger-willed have...” Master Che’s combing of his hair suddenly stops and is replaced by a soft squeeze on his shoulder. “... possible that he has separated his shields...”
“Obi-Wan?”
The squeeze grows stronger.
“Obi-Wan open your...”
Sleep is too easy, though. He’s hardly allowed himself the luxury of rest the past few days... Especially considering since the last time he woke up, he remembered nothing. He still doesn’t quite remember his past, but he has a few places to start at least.
- My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi
- Qui-Gon Jinn is my Jedi Master
- I am a Jedi Padawan
- My memory was erased by the Syndicat
- This Temple is my home.
And, most importantly,
6. I am safe.
That’s more than enough to make him feel comfortable to finally succumb to sleep.
Qui-Gon finds it hard to remember that Obi-Wan cannot remember. Though it’s been well over a week since he found the boy wandering through Gala, the Jedi Master still catches himself falling back into the routine of normalcy.
Can I even call it a routine if Obi-Wan and I have barely completed a full mission together, though? Was there ever any normalcy between us?
Yes and no, Qui-Gon supposes. Their partnership is new, but after training two padawans, there are things Qui-Gon has never had to consider needing to accommodate for. That is what is tripping him up.
Things like the fact Obi-Wan doesn’t know the layout of the Temple anymore-- which became apparent when Qui-Gon thoughtlessly told Obi-Wan to meet him back at their quarters since he had to leave their excursion to the Room of a Thousand Fountains for a meeting.
It wasn’t until he himself was heading back to their shared quarters that he realized his mistake.
Qui-Gon found him still in the Room of a Thousand Fountains— and not alone. Some of his friends had finally tracked him down. Bant, Garen, and Quinlan heard about Obi-Wan’s memory troubles and brought all sorts of holos and stories to try and help.
When Qui-Gon escorted Obi-Wan back to their quarters, the boy’s glum mood told him their effort was in vain.
Qui-Gon imagines it must be hard for Obi-Wan to be here with the constant bombardment of what he should remember. They’ve been trying everything to try and ease his memory back— according to Master Sinube, the tight state of his shields suggests he did manage to have the strength of mind and will to protect himself from the mind wipe. The technology the Syndicat uses is not strong enough to actually erase memory— only bury it deep enough it is never accessed again.
For most at least. But Obi-Wan is not most and Qui-Gon is firm in his belief that he will figure out a way to overcome this.
He has to.
Not two hours later, the door to the quarters burst open.
“Master!” Obi-Wan yells, his eyes wide. Qui-Gon’s gaze immediately falls to a bright red mark brushing up Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, and his knuckles in a state of disarray.
“Obi-Wan? What happened?” Worry spikes through his voice as he jumps up and takes Obi-Wan’s hands in his to examine the split skin and swelling. Despite all of this, Obi-Wan has a smile on his face.
“Master Jinn I remembered!”
“Remembered?”
“Bant and I were getting lunch and this other boy came up and started saying mean things to me and calling me names. And it started to bother me, and I got angry and I started saying things back— things I didn’t even quite understand the context of. And then... I remembered him! Bruck Chun— one of my crechemates. And then I could suddenly remember Bant and Garen and Master Vant and you!”
“Obi-Wan that’s— that’s fantastic!” Qui-Gon pulls Obi-Wan into a hug. The boy squeaks in surprise but quickly recovers to hug him back.
“It’s not everything, I reckon, but... it’s more than I’ve remembered all week.”
Qui-Gon pulls back to look at Obi-Wan but keeps his hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders.
“And you required a right hook to the face to achieve such memories?”
“Bant can attest, I did not hit Bruck first—”
“Oh Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon shakes his head with a soft chuckle, “I’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of that situation for now. I’m just happy your memories are coming back. However slow.”
His shoulders sag with relief. “You mean you won’t repudiate me?”
The smile disappears from Qui-Gon’s face.
“Why would you think that, Obi-Wan?”
“Well, I... I remembered Bandomeer. And... before.”
Of course, it’s the worst memories that he would recall first. Tera did say the most emotionally charged memories would be the easiest to draw up— Qui-Gon just hoped he meant the most positive memories.
Evidently, if he was triggered by an old bully and some recent feelings of failure, his hopes were not validated.
“Obi-Wan my hesitancy to take a padawan was never about you personally. My reasons were rooted in fear and stubbornness— two things I should not have allowed myself to succumb to as a Jedi Master.”
Almost losing Obi-Wan— first physically and then mentally— has given Qui-Gon lots of time to contemplate his misguided motivations and failure of the very values he claims to believe in. Outwardly, he is finally ready to admit he was a hypocrite. Inwardly, he recognizes that Yoda was right.
“I am your Master,” Qui-Gon continues. “It is my responsibility and my greatest pleasure to raise and care for you. Through whatever happens. Even memory wipes.”
This time it’s Obi-Wan that springs forward to throw his arms around Qui-Gon’s neck in a tight embrace.
“Thank you for not giving up on me, Master,” Obi-Wan whispers. The very idea that it crossed Obi-Wan’s mind that Qui-Gon might repudiate him is more than enough to make his heart feel like it’s crumbling. He hugs Obi-Wan back with deliberate insistence.
“It should be I thanking you, padawan mine,” he mutters with a flick at the tiny braid that barely reaches the end of Obi-Wan’s earlobe. When Obi-Wan’s memory has completely returned, he will thank him.