| As Long as There is Hope by Jemmiah |
| Najwal was becoming increasingly alarmed at recent turn of events - and the fact that the place was rapidly running out of disposable men. Merdan was a great advocate of shooting the messenger and this time when he and the ruddy faced and drunken Farley had entered his office to give him the bad news about losing the two swoops - or rather when Farley had - Merdan had rather predictably criticized their carelessness and shot the man in the head. Najwal was beginning to wonder where it would all end. It was almost as if Merdan had decided on disposing of his business and pulling out before things got far too hot, at least it appeared that Rufus was trying to wind things down. Problem was that he never did things by half. His own large hide had been threatened and warned of dire consequences were he to fail in his next task, and a rather disturbing one it was proving to be. For some reason Merdan had ordered he and the other guards to get hold of all the women in the place and line them up in the courtyard, at blaster point if necessary. This he was currently complying with and one by one each female, familiar faces every one, were pushed and dragged out into the sunlight, standing on the sandy cobbles beneath their feet. Some looked very frightened and edgy whilst others were almost resigned. "What's going on?" the woman known as Rusa demanded as she was manhandled out into the daylight away from her kitchens. "I have work to do!" "Merdan's orders." Najwal barked at her. "Which means what, precisely?" Suzette started to tie up the front of her blouse. "There are customers in there who don't like to be messed about. Did you have to barge in on me like that? It was humiliating!" "Nothing I haven't seen or done many times myself, dearie." One of the guards snickered, pushing her onwards. Snatches of conversation hailed Nadine's ears as she walked out with as much dignity as she could muster, head held high. Thank goodness Jemmiah would never have to suffer this sort of behavior again! It was her one and only solace in life. She looked about at the little assembly of scared and nervous females and suddenly understood everything, knew what was in Merdan's mind from the start. What else could she do but smile in resignation? Now she knew she was right in getting Jemmiah away. Perhaps it would be her solace in death, too. "…I'm cold, I wish I'd had time to put on my shawl." "…What does Merdan think he's doing this time?" "…I don't like this one bit." "…finally gone round the twist." "…really scared now." "…he's treating us like animals." They were all there. Lined up like herbivore's surrounded by cannoids and the outcome looking exactly as promising. The only ones missing were Vernice Ashdal and Jemmiah Gleshan, and Nadine could do nothing other than cross her fingers and hope that Merdan would forget her absence, maybe thinking she was still in the cellar where he had last seen her. However, Merdan never forgot anything. To Nadine's horror he had walked up and down, up and down, fixing them all with a blank gaze as he did so. The urge to shudder as he passed her by was almost too much but that would not be a wise thing to do right at this moment in time. Display weakness infront of Rufus Merdan? Nadine would never give him the satisfaction, not ever. Then he'd demanded a headcount. Nadine swallowed, her throat tightening with dismay. He would soon know the truth: Jemmiah was nowhere to be seen. Even as Najwal made his tally and reported it to Merdan she could tell by the way that he fixed his icy gaze on her that he knew, somehow, something was wrong - and that it was all her fault. Najwal however was the one who bore the brunt of Merdan's unflappable wrath. His tally had not been what Merdan had wanted to hear and so he had paid with it by his life, his chest cavity blown away with one single shot from a blaster. "Good riddance." Grumbled Nadine discourteously. "Nadie…" protested Suzette. "Don't care." Nadine was resolute in her defiance. "Things aren't going to get much better for us so I don't see why we should be charitable to that loathsome pile of unwashed blubber." "What do you mean, things aren't going to get much better?" whispered Suzette in a horrified voice. "Suzie, look about you. Look at him." She nodded at Merdan who still held the smoking gun in his hand. "Does he look like he's in a reasonable mood? Sooner or later it was going to end up like this." "Merdan would be mad to do anything of the kind!" she felt her legs begin to shake with terror, threatening to buckle underneath her. "Merdan doesn't have to be mad. He just has to be desperate - and he is. We've beaten him and he knows it now." “I want to know what happened to the missing person.” Rufus was saying in a fiercely calm yet compelling voice. “The girl’s missing.” Replied one of Merdan's men, walking back and forth. Something in Merdan's eyes caused Nadine to feel very afraid, but no longer for herself. But that was silliness…Jemmiah would soon be far away from here and living a new life, hopefully one she deserved full of love and happiness and attention. Merdan's let his stare alight on Nadine's face for a moment before looking away. Then in dangerously hushed words he demanded to know where the Corellian child had gone. “She’s gone.” Rusa's defiant tones stated bravely, ignoring Merdan's heated glare. “The Jedi have her now and you won’t be able to ruin her life like you did her poor mother and every other miserable vrelt in this place that you care to call your workforce.” “The Jedi have her?” He said. "Stupid, stupid, STUPID Rusa!" hissed Nadine in outrage. "What does it matter? She's free!" trembled Suzette. "We got her out…and now we are going to suffer instead." "Do you imagine for a moment that Merdan will let her get away now?" Nadine's voice became tinged with bitterness. "Now that he knows who has her? One day he will catch up with her…why did Rusa have to say it? Why?!?" "Merdan won't waste time on looking for Jemmy." Suzette shook her head. "By all means believe that if it brings you comfort." Replied the world-weary Corellian woman with a wry laugh. "He'll make time." She stretched out her arm to the shaking girl. "Give me your hand." "W-why?" Suzette began to weep silent, tears. "Because I kriffing well need it, damn my vile Corellian…oh, what's the point." She locked fingers with Suzette. "Look on the bright side." "What?" "At least we've got nice weather for it." She offered her friend a grin and squeezed the finger's of the sweating hand inside her own. *************** "Master, your head!" Vernice could hear Obi-Wan speaking to Qui-Gon in a loud and shocked voice as he had run up the ramp of the craft, the door shutting firmly behind him. She'd been on the verge of running all the preflight systems when she'd noticed something extremely odd indeed: the winking yellow light on the communication channel and the whirring hiss of static as somebody attempted to communicate directly with them. She'd ordered Obi-Wan to make certain that Jemmiah was strapped into her seat in the rec-room but the girl was showing distinct signs of concern for 'Sir' and had been extremely reluctant to strap down anywhere until she knew the man was safe and well. Okay, he wasn't exactly well, bleeding as he was from a gash in his head caused by the flying swoop metal which had hit him a glancing blow. But at least he was safe. That would have to be enough for Jemmiah right now. No doubt when it was all over Qui-Gon would be amused at the way he had earned himself his youngest ever fan. The light kept flaring, pulsating rhythmically. She shouted for Qui-Gon to come and take a look and he courageously escaped a cross examination from his padawan about the severity of the blow to his skull by loping his way to the flight deck in long strides, Obi-Wan jogging to keep up in his wake. He reminded Vernice of a fussing mother hen. Somebody was trying to reach them, and the only one who knew the correct frequency of the ship was: Rufus Merdan. Sure enough the holo picture they were now receiving showed a close up of the handsome and deadly cold face, the light of humanity long absent from his eyes now registering as tiny pin pricks of anger. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon huddled round the screen, standing behind the pilot's position. Somewhere amidst her concentration on the picture before her Vernice sensed that Jemmiah had disobeyed Obi-Wan's urgings to stay put and had joined them all at the front of the ship. She'd been on the verge of giving her a rebuke and asking her to return when she caught the anxious gaze in the direction of Qui-Gon, satisfying herself that he wasn't about to drop dead or that he was more or less in one piece. How could she give the girl a lecture when all she wanted to do was care? When the picture had come through it hadn't shocked anyone except for Jemmiah. Vernice could almost feel the girl's heart hammering against her ribs in distress at the way he kept looking at her, staring through the holo projector and right into her face. Rufus had spoken directly to Qui-Gon, and made great pains to point out the assembled lines of women who stood there behind him. Hostages, Jinn had thought. It seemed however that Merdan had other things in mind, accusing Qui-Gon that everything was his fault, his and Jemmiah's both. He made his intentions known that he would find her, steal her away again, and reclaim his property. Qui-Gon had surprised her by actually shouting - really angrily - back at Merdan about his lack of rights regarding Jemmiah, and even more surprisingly still Merdan remained perfectly calm. She could see Jemmiah shaking slightly at the sight of all her friends standing out in the courtyard, helpless and without friends. Perhaps her eyes strayed in particular to Nadine, as did Vernice's, infact she'd been looking so hard that she almost didn't hear Merdan's reply. “…Everything that happens here is your fault. Yours and the girl’s. And be assured of one thing. I will find her. If it takes me twenty years to do it. I’m a very patient man.” I'd like to see you try. Vernice felt her blood begin to boil. Let's see how you manage that when you are serving possibly hundreds of concurrent life sentences for cold blooded murder… The picture had suddenly changed and the force exploded through her as if she had been hit in the face, blood roaring in her ears, as Merdan turned his back and coldly mowed down with blaster fire every last one of the women standing on the golden cobbles, now stained with a silent slick of red. They fell in every direction, some landing on each other whilst others bounced lifelessly on the ground, their sightless eyes staring up into the brilliant blue sky Nadine had complimented only moments before. Her voice caught in her throat, the tears that wanted to fall hung almost in suspended animation. Obi-Wan had looked away for fear of disgracing himself by being ill. She had averted her eyes to the control panel before her but wishing she could block out the sound that went with it. Qui-Gon had darted before Jemmiah to cover her view of the grisly affair but she had wriggled away, intent on watching the fate that had befallen her dearest friends, her beloved Nadine, until Qui-Gon had commanded that Vernice switch off the picture. She used the force to do so. Her arms were simply shaking too much to be of use. The shock on Jemmiah's face had been evident, and Obi-Wan had felt completely unable to cope with the situation and had fled the room in search of a first aid box and a dressing for his master's injury. Even when Jemmiah had began to bandage Qui-Gon's head with the handkerchief Nadine had given her Vernice could see that it was more of an action borne from simply being startled out of her wits. The man had hugged her, promised to see that she was looked after, made sundry declarations to protect her but quite whether any of it was sinking in Vernice severely doubted. After a while Qui-Gon had carefully walked her back to the rec-room, hand still resting on her shoulder until Vernice could no longer hear the tall man's gentle words any more. She was left alone…and felt utterly isolated, too. Running the start up program, Vernice could not wait to shake this planet's dust off her raunchy, humiliating clothing. She wanted to get home to Tanni. She wanted to see that the healers looked after Jemmiah until she was well. She wanted… There was so much she wanted, but barring turning back the clock she knew she couldn't have it. ************* Things had gone incredibly slowly at first for the lucky few who had made it safely away from Nargotria, but Qui-Gon was of the opinion that was how things needed to be. Certainly there were few complaints from those who crept anxiously around each other for fear of saying or doing something which might cause further upset and grief. The master had waited on Obi-Wan to locate the first aid box which, if Jinn had read Merdan anywhere near accurately would be fairly well stocked. Whilst he had tried to pass the time Qui-Gon attempted to use the force to speed up his own healing process whilst Jemmiah had loitered nearby, plainly at a loss for what to do. He'd continued to try and befriend her, hoping she would trust him enough to let him take a look at her bruises whereupon during an impromptu beginner's class for self healing she had swiftly blacked out. He'd looked round; wanting to raise his hand and protest to the invisible multitude that lived within the realms of his guilt that it wasn't his fault. Instead he had scooped the unconscious figure up from the floor and carried her to Merdan's main cabin, laying her along the bed. It was really only now that he was able to get a proper look at her. She was very thin, skinny infact, with bones that he felt would almost certainly jut out from her clothing if it were removed. Her chin was moderately pointed and very slightly cleft, and the half-open eyes were of some wild red-brown copper color that Qui-Gon didn't think he had seen on another human being. The hair fell to the small of her back and was of a light chestnut color, hanging in a mass of tangled waves. Short for her age, too thin for her age and wearing a dress not suitable for ANY age, it was difficult not to feel moved. Whilst she was unconscious Qui-Gon had decided to try and heal the bruises on her leg and ankle, but seeing the extent of the injury he'd somewhat reluctantly made up his mind to keep her under a little bit longer. It was probably for the best after all. She needed to rest whilst Qui-Gon got on with his task of making her better and there was no guarantee how good a patient she would make. If she were anything like Obi-Wan she would spend the whole day tossing and turning and generally being a grouch. If she resembled any of the Corellians he had ever known she would be escaping from her bed on her hands and knees… "Master." Obi-Wan coughed at the door to get Qui-Gon's attention even though the man knew he was there. Not certain how his presence would be received when he was thus occupied the padawan waited until Qui-Gon acknowledged him before proceeding into the room. "Obi-Wan, did you find the medi-kit?" he asked him gently. "Yes, master. I have bacta strips and sterile swabs that should clean up your head wound quite rapidly." The padawan replied, staring past his master's shoulder to the bed where Jemmy lay. "Master, what happened?" "She passed out." Answered Qui-Gon. "You know that she is ill?" "Yes." Nodded Obi-Wan, watching the small frame twitch slightly as Qui-Gon rested his hands gently over her ankle. It looked swollen and blackened, yet Qui-Gon acknowledged the good job that Vernice had done in the interim. There was a fair chance that without her intervention things could have been much worse. And his padawan's timely rescue, too. "Obi-Wan, it does look like I owe you a rather large apology." Qui-Gon said at length as his apprentice set about cleaning the drying red mess of blood on the side of his head, near the hairline. "Master?" Kenobi frowned. "Why should you have something to feel sorry about?" "Because it is only now that I realize what you meant when you said the force had told you to set foot out of your room against my express wishes, and why you stepped in to help this girl. I can see for myself the damage that has been done and can guess that it might well have been worse had you not intervened. It must have been a difficult decision to take." "Not really, master." Obi-Wan managed to say through his squawking and slowly maturing vocal chords, reminding Qui-Gon of just how young he was. "It was actually easy. I didn't want to offend you but I had to put Jemmy first." "And you were right to." Acknowledged Qui-Gon graciously. "You saw something in this girl straightaway that I did not…not at first, any rate." Obi-Wan looked surprised. "So you see something now?" The padawan asked curiously. "I'm not sure exactly." Qui-Gon tried to concentrate on sending the healing energy of the force to the affected tissues in her leg. He was fairly certain that she had other injuries along her side, no doubt made by a rather over-enthusiastic boot. "It's early days but I've been really impressed with the way she conducted herself during our escape." "And you weren't impressed with me." Obi-Wan seemed to shrink miserably into himself like a cat in the rain. "I think we all coped well in difficult circumstances." Qui-Gon admitted with a faint smile ghosting his lips. "Your skill with the speeder was highly creditable…although perhaps somewhat too enthusiastic." Obi-Wan looked at his hands as they bandaged Qui-Gon's wound with the Bacta tape and listened to his master's words. There was a lot of truth in them and he knew that he had a lot of work to do in order to eradicate his weaknesses. As long as Qui-Gon was there to tell him where he was going wrong he might just manage to improve himself adequately to make it to knighthood. "Enthusiasm is not a bad thing, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon almost read the boy's thoughts. "Just keep it moderated, that is all." Obi-Wan silently agreed and promised himself that he would try harder to keep what Qui-Gon had said in mind. His fingers taped up the last of the raw wound on Qui-Gon's head and then he stood back to admire his own handiwork. "It's finished, master." Obi-Wan replied in his rounded accent. "Is it alright?" "I'm most grateful to you." Jinn gave the patch a small prod with his finger. "It won't take if you keep poking at it like that." Obi-Wan ventured with a thin trace of annoyance creeping into his tone. "Yes, An-Paj." Qui-Gon snickered uncharacteristically. "We'll make a healer out of you yet!" "Master!" Obi-Wan looked shocked. "How can you say such an awful thing?" The joke had burst the tension that had grown up within the ship ever since they had left the planet behind them, the residual emotion from witnessing the massacre of all those poor people not yet finding an outlet to be vented. Obi-Wan had retreated alone to compose himself, whereas Jemmiah had been so shocked that she had simply not mentioned the incident once, something Qui-Gon knew was going to have to be rectified sooner or later. He himself had found it difficult to understand what had driven an obviously intelligent man like Merdan to murder all those women. And if he was finding it difficult than how would Jemmiah cope? "Master, I…I behaved badly didn't I." Obi-Wan fixed him with a downcast look, a sickened expression on his features. "I ran away when Jemmy could have done with my being there. I just didn't know what to say…" "You can hardly be blamed for that." Qui-Gon replied, shooting a brief glance over his shoulder at the miserable teenager. "People all react differently to ghastly situations like that. You are young…" "I've seen death before, master." Obi-Wan reminded him. "But perhaps not in that manner?" asked Qui-Gon. "I think this is why it is so difficult. If those women had been caught up in some kind of natural disaster we would still have the shock, the sense of loss…but in some ways it is more acceptable knowing that there is nothing behind such an act other than nature and the force. But when something like today happens the disbelief is all the greater." Qui-Gon looked at him for a moment, watching the still subdued face of his padawan and wondering what else he could say to make Obi-Wan feel slightly better. More to the point, if that was how they were all feeling, what could he find to say to Jemmiah when she awakened? "I meant to say this earlier but I never got the chance." Qui-Gon didn't once take his eyes from Jemmiah but continued to address his apprentice in as reassuring a voice as he could manage. "I was pleased to have you with me on this trip. Part of me did not wish it. I wanted to be certain that you would be safe and I couldn't guarantee it on this mission, yet the force told me it was the right thing to do. I was proud of the way you behaved overall. I'm not sure I would have been able to have manage without you there." Obi-Wan was now more at a loss than ever for words, blinking repeatedly in utter amazement. "I'm your padawan. Where else should I be but at your side?" he offered hesitantly. "You have seen some monstrous happenings that I would have shielded you from had I not agreed to bring you. Tell me, Obi-Wan. Did I do right?" Qui-Gon for a moment seemed genuinely uncertain. "Yes, master." Obi-Wan spoke up immediately. "So sure?" "Yes." Obi-Wan repeated with finality. "I know now that nothing I see ever again will ever shock me as much as that which I saw today." "I wish I could believe that." Qui-Gon hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Master?" Frowned the padawan, eyes becoming clouded with doubt. "What do you mean?" That image he had once had of Obi-Wan as an old man, living forgotten and alone in the desert like some hermit sprang unbidden to mind. It had been a face ravaged not so much by time but by pain and betrayal. It had been a difficult and disturbing vision to get out of his head. Why? What would reduce his padawan to such a state? "It doesn't matter." Qui-Gon smiled, trying to change the subject. "Forget it." Just as I cannot. Obi-Wan had sat down in a chair not too far away from his master and watched as the attempted healing progressed, feeling altogether uncomfortable. After a few minutes he found himself fidgeting in the his seat and examining his finger nails, scuffing his feet on the floor and casting tiny little looks in the direction of his master. It brought back unpleasant memories of sitting in the infirmary and being ill, hooked up to machinery and having to eat food that tasted as if it had already been eaten by a Bantha and then scraped back onto a plate. He hated seeing his friend unwell, seeing her vulnerable and was glad that Qui-Gon was there to help her, after all he had been glad of such assistance in the past. At least his master seemed to be coming round from his initial impression that taking Jemmiah out with them was a foolish risk. "Is there something, wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, interpreting the silence that had grown between them as awkwardness on his padawan's part. "It's this ship, master." Kenobi admitted reluctantly. "What about it?" Qui-Gon didn't even open his eyes, concentration as unwavering as ever. "Is something the matter with it?" "I suppose it's because it's Merdan's ship." Confessed the apprentice, casting a swift glance round the interior and examining the tasteful furnishings that seemed incongruous compared with the outside of the vessel. "All his things, all his specifications…" "There's no need to fear this craft." Replied Qui-Gon in a calm voice. "It has proved to be our one method of salvation…thanks to our young friend here." He nodded at Jemmiah. "No doubt it might seem a little uncomfortable to be lying in the bed of somebody such as Rufus Merdan at this time, but beggars can't be choosers. Even so, there is a delightful irony in the fact that the man unwittingly provided our escape." "Yes, master." Obi-Wan bowed his head. "And you are going to get some rest. I think it has been a long day." Qui-Gon replied. "I'm not yet ready to sleep." Replied Obi-Wan. "My mind keeps turning no matter what I do…" this time Qui-Gon did open his eyes and met his padawan's uncertain look with his own. "Oh, master…not meditation." Groaned the padawan. "You make it sound like a punishment." Qui-Gon retorted. "I say these things for your own good. Meditation is not a dirty word, Obi-Wan." He sniffed at the air for a moment, his concentration wavering slightly as he identified the odor. "But your socks are. Remove them, please." "I don't have any others." Protested the padawan. "That's what I was banking on. Now, try and meditate on today's unfortunate happenings. It will truthfully benefit you in the long run. I will be doing likewise when the opportunity arrives." "Yes, master." Obi-Wan sighed. As he stood up to leave, casting a final saddened look at Jemmiah as she lay on the bed, Qui-Gon said something that made him think very hard about his own existence. "Just remember padawan, if you think that life is unfortunate there are always others worse off than you." The boy stopped for a moment and let the meaning sink in. It did seem a little churlish to turn down good advice aimed only at giving him some peace of mind…infact it seemed downright ungrateful considering what he and the others had so recently witnessed. The memory of those poor women being cut down in a blaze of blaster fire returned to haunt Obi-Wan's mind and threatened to take hold of him again and again like a repeating holo film… He smiled slightly, pulling himself straighter than before. "Yes, master. Thank you." He bowed slightly and walked back to the rec. room to make good his repentance. Qui-Gon watched him leave and wondered if perhaps what he had said was a touch too strong? It was a lesson that Yoda had told him, to be grateful for small mercies and to take nothing for granted. He'd been given a pointed reminder of how practical the advice was when a childhood friend had been killed whilst during an illicit trip away from the temple. How he had missed Lydia! How he had blamed himself for her death, and had been unwilling to listen to any arguments against his culpability until Yoda had taken him to one side and said the very words he had just said to Obi-Wan. Yoda, of course, had been right. When he'd finished his reverie he found a pair of half-open eyes squinting up at him like a binary sunset disappearing over the horizon. His attention had drifted momentarily and the girl must have been about ready to surface the minute he stopped focusing on the healing. Evidently for all her physical weakness her mind was a very strong one indeed. "Hello." He said pleasantly. "How do you feel?" "I'm not sure." The tired voice replied distantly. "Kinda drowsy, I guess." "That's the healing energy that has that effect. The body repairs better whilst asleep, as I tried to explain before you passed out." Qui-Gon gave a rueful chuckle as he thought about it. "I knew my lectures were boring but I didn't think you'd go to that length to avoid one of them!" "It wasn't boring, sir." Jemmy struggled to remember how she had collapsed, how she had ended up on the bed she was currently lying upon. "I was listening, but everything went black and I don't really remember…" "It was a joke." Qui-Gon hastened to reassure her, placing a hand on her head, not caring for the overly bright and shining eyes. "But maybe it's just as well, I think you should stay put for the time being." "I'll be okay, sir." Jemmy tried to enthuse, evidently not convincing him. "You're sick, I'm afraid." He said quietly. "I know that, sir." Jemmiah agreed. "I've been ill for about a month." "A wasting illness." Qui-Gon observed, looking at the thin frame before him. "Can you still eat?" "I…I don't like to, sir. It makes me feel worse. I can take a little food if I have to." Jemmiah muttered, turning away from the inquisitive and almost hypnotically calm blue eyes that faced her. "I tried to take some soup when I was in the kitchens. Nadine says that…" She snapped her jaws shut and let the words die on her lips. Nadine was gone for good and so were all the others, just like her mother and father, her brother too. Everyone she had ever known or cared for in her short life had perished over the years. There was quite simply nobody left. Wherever we both are I will always walk by your shoulder. Remember that. It was almost as if she could hear Nadine speak the words inside her head. "I can't bring them back." She mumbled to herself, unaware that Qui-Gon had heard her. "I'll remember them." "I'm sure you will." Qui-Gon agreed, the masterly smile widening a touch. Jemmiah looked at him curiously. "How did you hear that? I hardly spoke." "The force is a great asset sometimes." He replied, suddenly wishing he hadn't said anything when the guarded look returned to her face, at once suspicious and anxious for her own safety. "I would not use it on you, believe me. Your thoughts are safe and yours alone." "Really?" she still looked unnerved. "Jemmiah, just because people have the power to do something doesn't always mean that they will." Qui-Gon explained to her. "The Jedi do not believe in exploiting their special gift of the force. It is quite simply wrong." "But there must be some that do." Jemmiah watched a facial muscle twitch so slightly that she nearly missed it. "Not everyone can be good all the time. You said so yourself." For a moment Qui-Gon remained alarmingly silent, as if someone had carved him out of marble. "Have I said something wrong, sir?" she asked him in a worried tone. "No." Qui-Gon replied instantly. "No you haven't. It was a perfectly reasonable question. The truth is that there are certain people that have strayed from the Jedi path and fallen to the dark. It is a painful thing to see when it does happen but mercifully it is a rare occurrence. Those who remain at the temple have devoted their own lives to the light path. You will be safe enough at the infirmary." She seemed to be appeased, temporarily at least, and Qui-Gon wondered if now was the time to get to know her background a little better and see if he could help her at all. Vernice had said a little as had Nadine and Obi-Wan, but facts seemed as scarce and unsubstantial as the waif relaxing on the bed before him. "Might I be permitted to ask you some things?" Qui-Gon ventured, noticing the clouding of the girl's face yet again. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. It's just that I thought it would be nice to get to know you a bit better. Would that be okay?" "I guess so." She shrugged with her thin little shoulders. "Good." Qui-Gon wondered where to start. "How about your name." "You know it." Jemmy frowned. "No, I mean your full name. Jemmiah…Gleshan, was it?" "Yes, sir." "No middle names?" Jemmy pulled a face. "Angeline." She said in a voice that suggested the word rhymed with excrement. "It's pretty." He frowned at her. "Don't you like it?" "It's okay." Jemmy pouted a touch. "It's a bit over-the-top though, isn't it?" "Not at all." Qui-Gon shook his head. "It's maybe a bit elongated for one so…" he was about to say small but caught the annoyed look in her copper eyes and bit back the words. "…young." he finished. She didn't answer him. "What about your family. Nadine said something about your mother…" he lowered his voice respectfully. "I gather that she isn't alive." "No, sir." Jemmy chewed at the side of her lip. "She died about three years ago when I was seven." "I see." Qui-Gon said gently. "And your father…is he alive?" "No, sir. He died when I was three, I think. I don't remember too well. He had an accident. That's all I know." "Anybody else you can recall? No aunts or uncles or siblings?" he pressed. "Nobody at all?" "My brother…" Jemmy began awkwardly. "But he's dead too. I don’t have anyone. I only had Nadine for the last three years. That's all." She finished in a weak sounding voice. "What will happen to me? Will they send me back?" "Back?" Qui-Gon didn't understand. "Back where?" "To Nargotria. I don't have anyone so maybe they will send me back. Will they?" he could see the alarm in her eyes and immediately sought to comfort her. "I can assure you that you will not be going back there. I doubt very much that little den will be around for much longer." Qui-Gon stroked at the long hair. "The thing you have to do is concentrate on getting better. I'll help you where I can but you will have to help me also." "How, sir?" "Well, for a start you are going to have to eat something." He saw the imploring look she gave him and felt as if he were some kind of traitor suggesting she do something utterly evil and abhorrent. "It really is for the best, Jemmiah." He insisted. "I know you do not feel well but you will continue to get weaker if you will not eat, or be able to fight off the illness you are suffering. "Light food only, I promise. But only you can help yourself. You've got to want to get better." He could sense the cloud of despair that had settled on the girl's spirits, pressing down on her mind like a giant weight. Moral was so important with sick people and was often a crucial factor between recovering and succumbing. If Jemmiah wanted to give up he had no doubt that she would do just that. Who could blame her after what she had suffered and had seen? It was enough to kill a person psychologically many times over. She would certainly need to call on whatever mental reserves had kept her going for so long because Qui-Gon was sure she was going to have a battle on her hands against an illness he felt fairly certain was slowly beginning to claim her life, and would do should they not get her back to Coruscant soon. "Nadine once told me when my mother died that just by staying alive I was honoring her." Jemmy's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, almost making him jump. "That I was her accomplishment. If I died there would be nobody left to remember them all. I want to honor their memory. Does that seem silly?" "No." Qui-Gon felt rather humbled by the declaration of remembrance. "It's not silly at all. It's a lovely thought." "I don't want to die." Jemmy admitted. "I'm not scared…I've been ready for the last month, just waiting. But I promised Nadine once that if I ever got away I would see things and do things…I want to see if Coruscant is like my imagination or if it's better." "In that case," Qui-Gon replied warmly, "I'm sure you will see it. But for the moment you must sleep so that the healing can take affect." "But sir…" Jemmy began, but Qui-Gon had already induced the first tendrils of sleep to form in her mind and the half-open lids finally closed completely, giving up the struggle to stay awake. She lay back down; head on the pillow and Qui-Gon recommenced the healing as best as he could. Even after he had stopped his efforts to alleviate her suffering Qui-Gon sat beside the bed for some hours, just thinking. Sometimes he thought about what the council were going to say, what Valorum would think on hearing of the loss of his beloved Inga Calton, what the healers would think when he arrived with yet another waif in tow. No doubt the healers would shake their heads and look at each other knowingly as if to say "we've been here before, haven't we Qui-Gon?" Most of all he was thinking how terribly close he had come to leaving Jemmiah behind, and that rankled with his conscience the most. Eventually he stood up, making certain that all was as well as expected with the patient entrusted to his care before he deigned to leave the room, checking the door was not locked. The last thing she needed was to wake up in an enclosed space, not after the torments of the cellar… As he was on the verge of leaving he felt Vernice's presence at the door and turned to acknowledge her. "How is she?" Vernice asked. "She's not well." Replied Qui-Gon bluntly. "Infact she's very sick. Dying, possibly. She knows it is so." "You did right to bring her out of there." Vernice insisted. "Better to die a free person with a chance of hope than to die a slave, murdered on some back water planet with no hope at all of even a grave." "I know." Qui-Gon admitted. "But I still feel very badly for her." He felt Vernice's eyes studying him with a burning intensity, almost but not quite tugging at his mind. "What?" he said shortly. "Nothing." Vernice smiled casually. "Nothing at all." "I don't believe you." The man's voice almost growled. "Now, what is it?" "It's just that…I do believe you are slightly smitten." She crowed at his discomfort. "Aren't you?" "I don't know what you mean." Jinn huffed, walking down the corridor with Vernice by his shoulder. "A likely story. It's like watching a duckling imprinting on its mother - in reverse!" She winked at him as he turned into his own cabin, standing alone in the corridor. "Congratulations, Qui-Gon." She called, grinning madly. "On what?" he poked his head back round the door. "Finally falling in love again!" The door to Qui-Gon's cabin shut very, very quickly. |