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Qui-Gon Jinn is dead.
Qui-Gon Jinn is dead.
Quinlan stops in the hallway on the way to Obi-Wan’s room, resting one hand over his heart.
“Master Quin?” Aayla asks, thirteen and worried about him when she shouldn’t have to be. She’s newly his Padawan, but he’s known her since she was small, since he rescued her from a bad situation on Ryloth.
He’s only been a Knight for a year, and usually new Knights don’t take on Padawans so soon, but he swore to Aayla that he would be her master, and so, the council gave him leeway.
Exposing her to this, though? Every Jedi has to learn to handle death—he’ll freely admit it’s his own greatest struggle—but Obi-Wan is going to be a wreck. Besides, if Aayla’s there, Obi-Wan will try and pretend he’s not a wreck, and he’s got to let himself be one for a little while.
“I’m all right, kid,” Quinlan says softly, squatting down and putting one hand on her shoulder. “How about you go to your room for a bit, and maybe we can make Obi-Wan have dinner with us later?”
She nods, giving him a quick hug before heading in the other direction toward the Padawan quarters.
Qui-Gon Jinn is dead.
Quinlan got the news from his own master, but not until the funeral on Naboo was already over.
I just saw him, Quinlan argued over a fuzzy holocomm connection on his way back from the Outer Rim. On Tatooine. I didn’t talk to him because we were undercover, but I—
There’s nothing you could have done, Quinlan, Tholme said, his voice tight from holding back tears. Qui-Gon and Tholme were old friends, and it was clear he was taking the loss hard. He didn’t die on Tatooine. He died on Naboo. Apparently at the hand of a Sith.
What? Quinlan sounded like a teenager for all his questions, but a Sith?
I know, Padawan. But it’s apparently true.
Is—
Obi-Wan is fine. Tholme answered Quinlan’s next question before Quinlan needed to ask it. Well, physically. He killed the Sith. I spoke to him at the funeral, told him I was there for anything he might need, and that I’d let you know when you were on your way back from your mission.
So, here Quinlan stands, in front of his old friend’s door. His old friend who killed the first Sith in a thousand years. His old friend who just lost his master.
And he doesn’t know what to say.
It’s a first.
He hasn’t a chance to eat, or shower, or do anything at all, having come straight here after arriving. His tunics are rumpled and probably still sandy, his locs tied up messily, but Obi-Wan won’t care.
When he knocks, no answer comes, so he waits. Obi-Wan’s in there. Quinlan senses him. He knocks again.
Nothing.
“All right, Obes,” he mutters, punching in the code he knows by heart. “Guess we’re going to do this the hard way.”
The doors slide open, and what Quinlan finds inside sends a stab of nausea straight to his stomach.
The tiny kitchen table covered in dirty mugs—not like Obi-Wan at all. The blinds shut to keep out the sunlight, aside from one spot where Obi-Wan’s put one of Qui-Gon’s plants. A sense of the world sliding out from beneath his feet. That’s Obi-Wan’s emotion and not his own, but Force, he feels it.
He runs his hand over the back of the armchair across from the sofa. Should he use his psychometry to get insight into what his friend’s been doing? Probably not, but what’s breaking a rule or two, really? He focuses on the soft material beneath his fingers, and a flash of a little sandy-haired boy appears.
Who could that be? How does a child play into this? What would a youngling have been doing in here?
Obi-Wan himself is on the sofa, his back resting against the arm and his knees pulled up to his chest. Quinlan would say it looks like Obi-Wan’s staring at nothing, but it would be more correct to say he seems to be staring off into the depths of himself, trying to calculate where and when he went wrong, where and when he could have saved his master. Quinlan knows Obi-Wan, he’s known him since they were thirteen. They’ve cried with each other. They’ve sat up late with a bottle of brandy admitting their fears. They’ve kissed and counted each other’s scars.
They know each other.
Which is why Quinlan knows what Obi-Wan is about to say.
“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan says after a long pause, not looking over at Quinlan.
“Uh huh,” Quinlan answers, walking slowly toward the sofa. “It sure looks like it.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” Obi-Wan just keeps staring, his voice hoarse and flat with just a hint of sharpness, though it’s more for himself than Quinlan. “I couldn’t protect Qui-Gon, so no one needs to protect me. That’s how it works.”
A crack runs down the middle of Quinlan’s heart. The crack spreads to his lungs and makes off with his air.
“Obi-Wan.” Quinlan sits down gingerly on the sofa, not touching his friend just yet. “That is not how it works.”
Obi-Wan tugs the stained blanket closer to himself, still avoiding Quinlan’s gaze. The bags beneath his eyes are a pronounced purple, and he’s pale as the white sheets in the Halls of Healing. He looks like he needs to go to the Halls of Healing.
“I have to look after Anakin,” Obi-Wan mutters. “There’s no time for me.”
The sandy-haired boy. Was that Anakin?
“Who’s Anakin, Obes?”
“Qui-Gon found him on Tatooine.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flit over to Quinlan for a split-second. “He was sure he’s the Chosen One.”
Quinlan holds back a sigh. He loved Qui-Gon, but the man was way too into the old Jedi prophecies.
“I’m all for getting a kid out of a bad situation, if he was in one,” Quinlan says, careful with his phrasing, “but I’m not sure about anyone being the Chosen One.”
“He has over 20,000 Midichlorians, Quin. His mother said she just … conceived him. Out of nowhere. He’s nine, and the council thought he was too old, but I made them agree. I have to train him. I have to. He needs me.”
“Obes—”
“He needs me,” Obi-Wan insists, the sentiment curled tight against his skin like it’s an inextricable part of him, even though it can’t have been more than a week and change since he met this boy. “He was a slave, Quin. He’s been through a lot. He wanted to come here and train as a Jedi, his mother wanted him to, but it was still difficult for him to leave her. He has this power he doesn’t understand. He’s vulnerable.”
So are you, Quinlan wants to say, but he doesn’t.
20,000 Midichlorians is a lot.
“Okay, I understand.” Quinlan puts one hand on Obi-Wan’s knee, and he keeps it there when Obi-Wan doesn’t pull away. “I do. But training him, after all this? You need time, Obi-Wan, and while you should be a Knight already, you’re—”
Quinlan breaks off, and that’s when he realizes that the Padawan braid is gone.
Oh.
“Did they knight you?” Quinlan asks. Obi-Wan should have been knighted when Quinlan was, but Qui-Gon seemed reluctant to let go for some mysterious reason he didn’t reveal to anyone, not even Tholme. Not that Quinlan would mention that, of course. “But there hasn’t been enough time for the trials.”
Finally, Obi-Wan looks Quinlan in the eye for longer than a fleeting moment. The whites of his are red, the blue dulled down. There’s no glimmer of amusement, no gentle gleam, there’s just … grief.
“The council felt I was ready before Naboo,” Obi-Wan whispers. “And then after, when I killed the—” His voice wavers, it almost, almost breaks, and Quinlan wishes Obi-Wan would let it. “When I calmed myself down enough to manage the Sith after losing Qui-Gon, they said that was trial enough.”
The grief in Obi-Wan’s eyes wells up in his Force presence. Quinlan always associates Obi-Wan’s Force signature with standing beneath the sun. Not like on Tatooine, or some other desert planet, where it beats down down down, or any swampy, humid pit where the heat is unbearable, but like the best day on Coruscant, in one of the parks on the upper levels where he can lay in the grass and let the sun shine on him. Where he can feel at peace. Sometimes, the Force inside Quinlan feels like a burgeoning storm, and Obi-Wan has always managed to chase some of those clouds away.
Today, that sunlight is gone.
“Come here, Obes.” Quinlan puts his arms out, gesturing at Obi-Wan with one hand.
Obi-Wan shakes his head, tears shining in his eyes. “No.”
“Since when do you not want to give me a hug, Kenobi?” Quinlan tries teasing, hoping it will draw a snarky retort out of his friend, but it doesn’t.
A sob bursts past Obi-Wan’s lips, and he immediately claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it.
“Obes—”
“I got Qui-Gon killed!” Obi-Wan shouts, and guilt guts him, Quinlan can tell, it guts him and rips him open. If Obi-Wan’s feelings were blood, it would be spilled red and sticky on the floor. “I fell, and then I wasn’t fast enough once I got back up, and I was stuck behind that damned ray shield, and that Sith ran him straight through. I just had to watch and know that it was my fault.”
Obi-Wan starts openly crying, the sobs shaking his whole frame, rattling his bones, and Quinlan doesn’t wait for permission. He lunges forward, pulling Obi-Wan into his arms. Obi-Wan clutches at him, he buries his face into Quinlan’s shoulder, and they are tangled up in the Force until Quinlan can’t tell which emotions are his and which aren’t.
“I don’t deserve your kindness.” Obi-Wan’s words are muffled against Quinlan’s sleeve. “I don’t, Quin. I got my master killed.”
Quinlan holds Obi-Wan tighter, tears springing to his own eyes. “Yes, you do. It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan. It’s not.”
“You don’t know that,” Obi-Wan argues. “You weren’t there. It should have been me. Not him.”
“I didn’t need to be there to know you’re a great duelist who’s beat out every other Padawan in our age group.” Quinlan’s hand goes to the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. “I didn’t need to be there to know that you would do anything and everything to protect Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was one unique kind of guy, he made you crazy sometimes, but he was proud of you, he loved you in his weird way, and he would never, ever blame you. He would never want it to be you who died. Don’t say that again or I’ll tell Tholme you did.”
Obi-Wan falls quiet for a minute, but he doesn’t let go.
“I promised Qui-Gon I would train Anakin.” Obi-Wan sniffs. “I promised him, Quin. With his dying breath he asked me to do it, he swore that Anakin would bring balance to the Force, and I don’t know what I’m doing, but that little boy is special whether he’s the Chosen One or not, and he looks at me like I hung the moon and I—”
Obi-Wan doesn’t finish, sliding out of the hug and taking hold of one of Quinlan’s hands.
“I think if anyone hung the moon it might have been you.” Quinlan winks, thumbing away Obi-Wan’s tears. “So maybe the kid’s right.”
A fond, exasperated, whisper of a smile slips onto Obi-Wan’s face. “Shut up, Vos.”
“You’ll do right by him, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan rests his forehead against his friend’s. “I know that for a fact. None of this is fair, but that kid couldn’t be luckier. And I’m here. Always. You know?”
The smile grows a little wider. “I know.”
“Can’t believe I’m the one saying this,” Quinlan continues, taking stock of the room again, “but I’m going to clean up in here, okay? And get you some dinner. If Anakin’s coming, Aayla can too. I’ll go get Dex’s for four and the Padawans can meet each other. If you agree, you’re also agreeing to letting me do it, while you shower and relax. Do I have your word?”
“I—”
Quinlan holds up a hand. “I said do I have your word, Kenobi? Swear like we used to.”
Obi-Wan shakes his head, his cheeks flushing when he looks around at the state of things.
“I swear to all of the Jedi ancestors,” Obi-Wan quips, making an x over his heart.
Quinlan finds new clothes for Obi-Wan and throws them at him, insisting he go take a shower, before he starts his work. Obi-Wan is eager to take advice about anything related to the Force, or another problem, but allowing this sort of help? That’s no small thing.
The first thing Quinlan does is open the blinds, and the light floods in, winking off something silver on the table, the only thing in the room that is in any state of care.
Qui-Gon’s lightsaber.
Quinlan could read the memories and see exactly what happened, but he’s not supposed to do that with weapons, and he should wait for Obi-Wan to tell him everything, anyway. So, he puts on his glove for an extra layer, picks up the saber, and rests it in a place of honor next to the plant Obi-Wan brought.
Qui-Gon Jinn is dead.
And Quinlan has to help Obi-Wan move forward.