| It Takes One to Know One By Jemmiah |
| ENTRY SIXTY-NINE: I got another visit from the CCID today, it being a day I would under normal circumstances go to school. I suppose I am well enough to go back but Evla wants to make sure I'm okay. She knows what's been going on at school with the bullying although I've not mentioned any names to the authorities. That didn't make any difference at all, because by the time they'd spoken to me Sophie's name had already come up. The moment that the other kids in the gang realized how serious it was and that they might get into trouble, they all pointed the finger straight at Digwurt, sacrificing her to save their own necks. The cops heard Sophie's name given so many times that there was no question as to who the ringleader was. Evla urged me to tell the whole story to them and I did, although reluctantly. I told them about our ongoing feud, how she took an instant dislike to me, how she'd taken to following me from school and threatening me with severe pain. Just to back up what I was saying I fished out a couple of the flimsy notes that Sophie had made into a dart and thrown at the back of my neck. Her handwriting is all over it so that just added to her guilt. The strangest thing is that although I hate her, I feel really guilty about telling on her. I don't know why, it just doesn't feel right. I think maybe I've got so used to keeping my problems to myself that I am uncomfortable with admitting when things are wrong. After they had gone, Evla said she was proud of me but I didn't feel very proud. I just felt sad and wanted to curl up. I don't know what will happen now. Jemmiah didn't think it was possible to feel bored at Evla's place, but she was. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the company. Two days after having been released from the infirmary, a free woman, Jemmiah lay back against the surprisingly comfortable sofa reflecting exactly how lucky she'd been in being placed with the crèche master. After all, Evie had seen something about her to make her want to take her into her home: Mace had revealed that Evla had volunteered to do so of her own free will. There had been no bribery, no done deals or playing on old loyalties as there had been with Sal-Fina or G'emela. The more Jemmy thought about her the more she realized exactly how much she'd come to respect Master Sovalla. Who else would give up the search for a new padawan in preference for taking in somebody's problem child? There were no words she could find…no way that Jemmy could tell her just how much Evla's generosity had meant to her. It was the same overawed, startled feeling she'd experienced on learning that Qui-Gon had wanted to keep her with him. It was staggering…mind-blowing…she just couldn't get her head round the fact that someone would do something like that for her. Even after all the months that had gone by, Jemmy still found herself bewildered and strangely emotional when thinking of the sacrifice that Qui-Gon had made to give her a decent upbringing. Now when she said her prayers at night to those Corellian deities she'd asked to watch over Quiggy and Ben, there was a third person - a very dear person indeed - whom she had added to the list. Yet no matter how thankful she was to Evla for the condescension she'd shown, Jemmy was beginning to get itchy feet - literally. Never one who liked to be cooped up too long in the one place, be it inside the apartment or stuck in the infirmary, Jemmiah was finding the enforced period of rest and recuperation mindnumbingly dull and tedious. It was okay when Evla was there to talk with her, but Jemmiah couldn't expect the woman to lavish attention all round the clock and sometimes…sometimes she asked questions Jemmy really didn't want to answer! Those first few days had been spent attempting to get to know Evla a little better whilst endeavoring to avoid Evla's attempts to do much the same. Not remotely fair, of course. But Jemmiah just wasn't ready to let Evla into her mind. The poor woman wouldn't like what she found there anyway. Still, everything was just so comfortable and pleasant. There was no arguing, no shouting…no need to resort to jokes, tricks and worm powders. In many ways after such frequent clashes of will with Sal-Fina, Jemmy was finding things rather difficult to adjust to. Worst of all, the layers of bacta were beginning to peel from her skin, making life painfully itchy. Only Evla's supply of soothing skin cream seemed to lessen the urge to tear herself to shreds with her own fingernails. Her feet and hands in particular were suffering, leaving layers of dead skin behind wherever she went. It reminded Jemmiah of a giant snake attempting to shed… When was she to go back to school? Was she to go back at all? Perhaps Qui-Gon would arrange for private tutoring in light of all that had happened, yet he'd been so determined to make sure that she mixed and socialized with other children her age that it didn't seem a likely scenario. But if it kept her safe, surely he would listen? It was just one of the many things that Jemmiah had been dwelling on ever since she'd got out of bed that morning; still not completely used to the novelty of being somewhere she was wanted. Evla had left her to her own devices for a while, feeling certain that what she needed was some space to come to terms with the latest developments in her life, but what she really wanted was something interesting to take her mind off the whole bullying/absent Qui-Gon situation… The force for once appeared to have listened to her. A message relayed to Evla's private holoterminal indicated that Jemmiah should hasten to the temple reception area to meet with a surprise guest… "Go on." Evla nodded encouragingly, knowing in her heart that the child was hoping the visitor would turn out to be either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, and feeling sorry for the disappointment she would surely experience on finding otherwise. Yet it was not her place to tell Jemmiah what she should or should not think, nor was it her right to interfere in her life. "Hurry down - but not so fast that you might hurt yourself! And don't scratch your skin and make it bleed…" She called after the excited Corellian already dashing through the open door. Life always went by so fast at that age; Evla mused in bittersweet fashion on seeing Jemmiah disappear from sight. 'Slow' was a word that just didn't seem to appear in a child's vocabulary. It was hardly surprising if the girl wanted to make up for whatever kind of dreadful life she'd been forced to live before by experiencing everything at high speed, yet if Evla could ask Jemmiah to do just one thing it would be to slow down…to observe. That way she might actually enjoy life so much better, delighting in every minute of every day rather than running from A to B as swiftly as possible. One day she might find that out for herself, but until then Evla was very much afraid that Jemmiah would go through life dissatisfied with everyone and everything in it, looking ahead to a future that would ultimately fail to gratify her because she didn't appreciate what she had at hand… Much to Jemmiah's confusion on reaching the reception area, there was no sign of either of her beloved guardians. On seeing the virtually empty, circular room, in many ways reminiscent of the council debating chamber save for the presence of a semi-circular desk, Jemmiah felt her heart sink once again. Why did she always set herself up for a fall like this? Why did she repeatedly insist on disappointing herself? Had it been at all likely to have been Quiggy or Ben? Would Evla not have told her if they'd arrived home? Or might they have just turned up at Evie's rooms unannounced in order to surprise her? Stupid, stupid idiot! What had she been thinking? More to the point, if it wasn't Qui-Gon then who… A large figure emerged from behind the desk: a figure Jemmiah had only seen through a hazed, dream-like fog of pain and wooziness. As she straightened up to her full height the Wookiee woman roared what Jemmy assumed was a 'hello' but nonetheless had her backing instinctively away with fright. What a size she was! Intelligent greeny-blue eyes twinkled back at the mildly alarmed Corellian from amidst a thickset, heavy skull covered with beautiful chestnut brown hair. The teeth were bared slightly but as Jemmiah soon ascertained, in the form of a greeting. Everything about the Wookiee female seemed so much larger than life! And she'd thought Qui-Gon was impossibly tall? "You're so BIG!" Jemmiah exclaimed, her disappointment at not seeing whom she'd expected to see long since forgotten in the presence of such an interesting character. "I've never seen anyone so big before!" The Wookiee blinked, then gave a series of little 'arfs' which Jemmy assumed to be laughter. "Forgive me," the female said, frantically trying to tune the translator unit that hung around her neck like a large amulet so that it was set for 'basic'. "The lady jedi at the desk went away for a moment and when I leaned over the desk to see what the beeping noise was the translator fell over my head... and I believe the setting changed to Rodian or some such language as a result of the fall…there! That is it! Perfect!" She beamed, clambering out from behind the desk. "Please forgive my curiosity in wanting to see you." Jemmiah remained mesmerized by the tall, smiling figure. She'd seen Wookiees up close before but this one was exceptionally tall! There was something incredibly fascinating about Wookiees in general, Jemmiah couldn't understand it…maybe because they had a reputation for fighting and savagery in battle whilst conversely being such peaceful, calm and intelligent people. The sleek, powerful body and strong hands more than indicated this Wookiee would be more than a match for anyone stupid enough to pick a fight, but her smiling face was incredibly endearing to Jemmiah. "You…you were the one who saved me, weren't you?" Jemmiah felt herself becoming untypically shy, looking down at her feet. "I sorta remember you. It was all a bit of a blur but I can just about recall seeing you bending over me in the alleyway." "This is so!" The Wookie nodded furiously, stepping forward to shorten the gap between them. "I was most worried for your safety. On seeing the beating you'd been given I feared for your continued existence! But I knew when I examined you that you did not appear the kind of person who would give up! I said to my cousin that you looked like somebody who would frequently court trouble - but always shrug it away as of no consequence. Corellians are like that, I find." The Wookiee lowered herself to her knees and held out a shaggy, hair covered hand. "My name is Flint. At least that is my name when abbreviated. I shall not bore you with the full version: it has been known to break glass!" Jemmiah laughed nervously, still over-awed by the furry presence before her, but stretched her own hand out to clasp that of Flint only to find it swallowed up by the larger palm. This was incredible! She'd shaken the hand of a real Wookiee! "I wanted to make certain that you were okay." Flint rumbled into the translator, listening as the series of growls and roars were processed into basic. "Because I felt responsible for what happened. You were found on my cousin's property and as such it seemed only right that I should take an interest! He sends his warm regards also." "You own a cantina?" Jemmiah's ears pricked up with interest at the piece of information. "That's so great! How old do you have to be to get in?" At this the Wookiee threw back her head and gave a full-bodied laugh that all but deafened Jemmiah in one ear. "I am liking you!" Flint grinned, wrinkling her nose, "More and more with each moment! But I think that there might be trouble if we were to let a cub onto our premises without permission from an elder. Still, there are ways…" "I can't believe you own a cantina. I would just luvvvvvvvve that!" The Corellian's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Tell me, is Wookiee Hooch as strong as they say? What does it taste like? Is it any good?" Flint pulled Jemmiah towards her into what she assumed was a tight little hug of endearment, where in reality Jemmy thought she had felt ribs snapping through the continual pressure of muscle against bone! Phew, the power in those arms could squash a Gundark! "When you are recovered from this horrible ordeal, I will invite you round to visit me and you can find out for yourself." Flint promised, mussing her hair terribly with her thick fingers. "Watered down, of course! It would be a pity to save your life only for you to lose it due to alcoholic poisoning!" "You can't poison a Corellian." Jemmiah managed to squawk through Flint's fur pressed against her nose and mouth. "There's no drink that can floor us." Flint finally released the girl, the blood draining back from her head allowing Jemmiah's face to slowly return to its usual pale color. Evla would be unhappy if she came back all covered with bruises again, especially considering her run in with Sophie Digwurt. Straightening the hem of her dress, Jemmy looked over to the bag that lay to one side of the desk just beyond Flint's right shoulder. That wasn't very tidy, was it? And the jedi usually abhorred mess of any sort… "Ah, you have seen it then." Flint caught the look in her eye and turned to nod over her shoulder. "It is my get-well gift to you. After some searching the yard for any further clues to the identity of your attackers, Mungo found your jacket thrown into one of the nearby skips. I have had it washed and pressed. Possibly it is not as pristine as once it was but I do believe that it looks quite presentable…" This time it was Jemmiah who threw herself on Flint in utter, radiant delight. Now Qui-Gon wouldn't be upset with her for losing her jacket! Not that he would be when the circumstances were explained, she was sure of that, but it was so important to her to show him that even in adversity she could still take care of her belongings in a way that the jedi might approve of. "You found it!" Jemmy squealed excitedly. "You are one of the most wonderful beings I have ever met! Although I don't really know what's going to happen at my school…everything's kinda up in the air right now given what happened." "They will find that horrid girl and make her pay her debt." Flint sniffed imperiously, sweeping her parted fringe of hair back from her forehead. "I have told the CCID what I saw. They will see the truth for what it is, and then you will be free to go where you want without fear of being troubled. And if it is not so," Flint's eyes took on a dangerous, diamond hard quality, "You are to tell me about it and I will sort it out! And what is more, I have a large and extensive family living on Coruscant who will all pitch in if necessary! " Jemmiah smiled. She not only had a Wookiee protector; she had a Wookiee army too! Bad dreams. Jemmiah had been haunted by bad dreams all her life. They'd started before Nargotria although they hadn't seemed so much like nightmares back then. Hazy, dark images where reality and fantasy were blurred assailed her on an infrequent basis, scaring her poor mother more than they had the dreamer herself. The images had been odd, like fleeting glimpses into somebody's past; but not once had they frightened her: they'd simply been commonplace to Jemmiah. She didn't know what the explanation could be but hadn't felt unduly troubled enough to search for an answer. On Nargotria real life had become her nightmare: even away from the place she relived the unpleasantness again and again and again. Dead people would talk to her…condemn her for escaping. The maimed and sick; the rotting and decomposing corpses of friends she'd once known would point their cadaverous fingers at her as if in accusation, blaming her for their demise. Her fault…always it was her fault. Her fault for living. It wasn't just the dead who would reach out to her. The equally spectral, always-shadowy figure of Rufus Merdan would follow her no matter where she went or who she was with. Even in her happy, pleasant dreams the sensation of foreboding dogged her like a huge dark thundercloud always threatening to overtake her. And worse, the very real and physical, non-ethereal presence of Gabriel Levinstowe stretching out his hand to grab hold of her hair… She sat bolt upright in her bed, sheets lying in twisted disarray. It was the first time that the mere thought of dreams had brought her out in a cold sweat. Placing a hand over her mouth to tamp down the feeling of nausea, Jemmiah tried to find the words to command the lights to come on, but from her throat there came not so much as a squeak. Had she been asleep then? Had she been dreaming? Shivering, Jemmy looked anxiously about her room. At least this time she'd not knocked anything off the bedside shelf. Where was she? This didn't even look like her bedroom… Evla's place. That was right: she was staying with Evla! Kriff, had she cried out and disturbed her? How humiliating would that be? Jemmiah tried to calm her ragged breath, and held her head in her hands, concentrating. There had been a dream…not about Nargotria, nor Levinstowe or Merdan. It had been about Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan…fighting against a vast backdrop of platforms and energy barriers, the eerie red glow cast across the scene like a pool of watery blood. She had seen Ben as plain as day, lightsabre clashing against lightsabre, fighting some demonic creature…some warped aberration of a man, his eyes burning with a hatred that far surpassed anything she had ever witnessed before. It drove him…carried him on…attacking, lunging and hacking… And of Qui-Gon there was no sight. He was simply…not there. Gone. She didn't know how she knew it. A slow knocking against the door of her bedroom caused Jemmiah to catch her breath, sitting bolt upright against the headrest. "Jemmiah?" It was Evla's voice…wonderful, amazing Evla. Torn between feeling overwhelming relief at her being there and incredible guilt for having disturbed her, Jemmiah let her head fall back against the wall. It was a dream…a dream like any other. Qui-Gon was not dead…could not die. Would never die. And there was no Rufus Merdan amongst the shadows of her room. There was no painted, tattooed man with a lightsabre pacing the floor in search of Obi-Wan. All was well. Wasn't it? "I'm going to come in to your room for a moment, sweetheart." Evla's voice became less hesitant, much more authoritative. "I've brought you a glass of water. I thought you might need it." Evla had heard her then. What a silly, stupid crybaby I am! Jemmiah gritted her teeth, outraged at her feeble-mindedness. Great, now look what I've done! She'll send me to the soul healers just like Quiggy did! The door opened and the lights that Jemmiah had so desperately sought came on full blast, causing her to shield her eyes. In the mouth of the entrance the crèche master stood, glass in hand, as if waiting for permission before invading Jemmiah's privacy any further. Evla looked about her, pulling her gown around her middle with one hand. The bedclothes had been kicked away, some of them looking as if they were escaping towards the floor. The pillow had somehow ended up next to Evla's feet by the door on the other side of the room! Bending down to pick up the offending object and trying to batter it into regular shape against her leg, Evla finally allowed herself to approach the Corellian child. "A bad dream?" She wondered, holding out the glass of water for Jemmiah's shaking hands to grasp. "Nevermind, you take a drink of this. We'll soon have things back to normal again." Jemmiah regarded her dubiously. Normal? What was normal where she was concerned? The poor woman didn't know…she had no idea how frequently the nightmares assaulted her senses. Evla had taken her in through the kindness of her heart, but would she wish to change her mind when she saw firsthand the problems that Jemmiah carried with her? "I…I get nightmares sometimes." Jemmiah stared down into the water, wondering at first why the liquid was rippling - until she saw that her hands were shaking the glass. "Quite a lot." She amended. "I'm sorry." "Sorry?" Evla asked, pulling the bed jacket round Jemmiah so that she would not take cold. "Sorry for what?" "For waking you up. See, there's every chance that it'll happen again…and I don't want to be a burden on you." Jemmiah swallowed, watching Evla miserably. "Was I very loud? Did I cry out?" Evla smiled, continuing to fuss, and Jemmiah took her silence as confirmation. "It was just so real…" Jemmy began, trying to rid her memory of the tattoo-skinned devil. "Do you want to talk about it?" Evla asked, sighing as Jemmiah instinctively shrunk away from the question. "Maybe it will help if I listen to you. Was it about what's been happening at school recently? Or maybe," She hesitated before continuing on what she knew was the correct tack, "it was about Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's mission?" Jemmy raised her eyes to meet those of Evla, begging the woman to keep asking the questions so that she herself would not have to speak about the details of her dream…of the cat-like, lithe demon sabrewielder…of the furious Obi-Wan and the missing Qui-Gon… "It is about them, isn't it?" Evla moved to the side of the bed. "You must miss them dreadfully. But I want you to know that you always have a place to stay here with me." "You'll be getting a padawan of your own soon." Jemmy smiled weakly. "You won't have time for me." "Well, I don't…" Evla began uncertainly. "I did dream about Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan." The Corellian admitted, almost bow-headed. "I…I can't talk about it. It was horrible…and I don't want it to come true. Maybe if I don't talk about it then it won't happen. I'm so sorry." Jemmiah mumbled, feeling ashamed to the utmost degree. "I shouldn't go plaguing everyone with my worries. You've got to go soon to start you shift at the crèche and all I've done is woken you up. Then you'll be tired, especially when those awful, smelly babies start wailing to be fed." Evla shook her head. "After all these years as a carer I can assure you that I am used to it! After a while it becomes second nature. I find I can operate quite well with a minimal amount of rest." She placed the tumbler of water on the table surface beside Jemmiah's bed, sitting for a moment in quiet reflection. Being brought up by the jedi had meant that the connection to her real family, when discovered, had matter very little indeed. There had been no burning desire to stay with them, for the jedi were her true family and had been since she'd been brought from Florizan as a baby. With Jemmiah it was different. She wasn't a jedi. She'd presumably experienced what it was like to have family ties, going by the child's reference to her dead mother. Now she had a new family unit where unavoidable bonds had been forged. To therefore have to go through the agonies of being separated from those she loved must seem like the end of the galaxy to Jemmiah. What a terrible situation to find yourself in, she thought sadly as she watched the youngster rub blearily at her eyes. Thankfully there were few in the temple who would ever experience such instability. "Try not to let their absence prey on your mind too much." Evla dimmed the lights slightly with a force-flick at the activate switch. "Concentrate instead on their coming back, not the fact that they're not here. I know it's an easy thing for me to say, but if I were you I shouldn't worry about it." Evla said lightly, glossing over in her mind the sort of scrapes that both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had found themselves in the past, the former as a young knight and the latter as a self-assured initiate in the crèche. "The pair of them work well together by all accounts. Qui-Gon is an experienced jedi and Obi-Wan a quick learner. No matter what situation they find themselves in they are bound to cope. I'm sure they'll be back very soon, and with ne'er a scrape between them." "You think so?" Jemmy asked hopefully, her eyes rounded. "I do indeed, sweetheart." Evla patted the pillow with one hand to indicate that Jemmiah should try to settle down again. "They'll both be fine. Infact, they're probably having the adventure of a lifetime…" "Master…" Obi-Wan gasped, his words completely drowned out by the noise of the roaring waterfall. "Are…are you alright?" Qui-Gon's appearance was nothing short of amusing. His long, dark hair fell lankly at the side of his head; jedi robes plastered to his body like an extra heavy second skin. Filled with water from a downhill plunge over one of the biggest waterfalls Qui-Gon had ever seen, the dark robe had very nearly cost him his life, pulling him down as if it had been weighted with stones. Ordinarily a mere trifle like a cloak would be of little importance, but after a buffeting, bone-pummeling journey like the one he and his padawan had been forced to take, Qui-Gon had found his energy totally spent. Gingerly the master pressed his hand against his ribs to make certain that there was nothing broken, whilst not far away Obi-Wan went through a similar routine. "Owch." Was Qui-Gon's only comment as Obi-Wan staggered forward. "Remind me never to take a short cut ever again." "My pleasure, master." Grimaced Obi-Wan, looking over his head. Above him there was a roof of solid stone and to his side damp, silvery rocks that had been pounded smooth from thousands of years worth of water spray. Hiding in a cave wasn't particularly the padawan's idea of comfort but for the present it was a necessary evil until they were certain they were free of pursuit. Obi-Wan gave an amused snort; Jemmiah might have described the event as exhilarating considering her love of speed and her desire to ride swoops, but his own reaction could not be more of a polar opposite. It had taken all of the padawan's self-control to will himself not to be sick on having survived the drop. "I can't believe how quickly we were swept over!" "It seemed like a lifetime to me." Qui-Gon muttered to himself, remembering how as Obi-Wan had fallen past him there had been a distinct sensation of time slowing down…of seeing the full horror played out before his eyes in agonizing detail. For a moment both master and padawan stood, water streaming from every pore of their body, reflecting in silence that they had been fortunate to survive. The force had indeed been with them in that instance. After a few minutes of trying to regain both his breath and his composure, Qui-Gon attempted to hobble about the cave floor, testing himself for any injuries previously unnoticed as a result of the adrenaline surge he'd experienced on having gone over the fall. There was nothing apparent other than a certain degree of bruising - but that was to be expected. "Incredible." Jinn's clear blue eyes blinked unbelievingly. "Absolutely amazing." Obi-Wan blew out a deep breath and lowered himself to the ground, inch by exhausting inch. Like Qui-Gon there seemed to be nothing amiss save for the terrible ache of his muscles, as he'd fought the currents to the best of his ability. He should walk about…try and keep warm…but he was much too tired for that. A few minutes rest to recharge both his mind and body were exactly what he required. Qui-Gon nodded approvingly as the padawan closed his eyes and concentrated on letting go of the residual trauma. Obi-Wan had seemed altogether more focused on this mission than he had at any previous time Qui-Gon had ever seen him…well, until he'd fallen into the water and been swept away by the rapids. Hardly the boy's fault considering they'd been pursued for several hours over rocky, dangerous terrain. And just when they had appeared to shake off the hunters he'd taken the decision to cross the river… "I cannot believe," Obi-Wan opened one eye and squinted up at his master, "that the force insisted you take that shortcut." Qui-Gon looked back at him, much surprised by the criticism. "But you forget one thing, padawan." He answered calmly, wringing the water out of his robe. "It worked." Obi-Wan felt like groaning but decided it took up far too much precious energy, and so settled instead for observing his master as the tall jedi followed his example and lowered himself slowly to the floor surface. Did nothing ever bother the inscrutable Qui-Gon Jinn? And people had the nerve to label him impulsive and reckless: how else would you describe the actions of a man who'd set out to cross rapids with the use of a belt hook and a suction-cable? It was only when Qui-Gon sat down - and then almost instantly jumped back up again - that Obi-Wan began to feel anxiety tip the balance in favor of concern rather than chagrin. "Master, what's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked, pushing aside all thoughts of meditation. Qui-Gon ran his hand down to the small of his back and slowly…painfully…pulled out what looked to be a triangular, dagger shaped stone. Holding it up to the mouth of the cave so that it might catch the light, he tilted it from side to side, watching as it cast a series of prisms on the cave wall. "Now we know why it's called Crystal mountain." Qui-Gon observed, rubbing delicately at his injured rump. "I must have picked this up along the way down. Still, at least it saves me having to search for a present for Jemmiah." "Not another rock, master." Obi-Wan grinned at the long running joke between them. "At least don't tell her of the pains you went to in order to get it." "Pain being the operative word." Qui-Gon winced. "How about you? Are you hurt?" Qui-Gon raised his voice in competition with the constant background roar of water, his eyes scanning the apprentice for any obvious sign of injury. "I believe," Obi-Wan answered cautiously, his voice hoarse, "that I am more or less unscathed, master. Although a dry change of clothing would be most welcome!" He held out his arms; wet swathes of brown fabric hanging in loops about them, reminding Qui-Gon of a giant nestling caught up in a mud-slick. "I don't think I'll ever feel warm again!" "I know the feeling." Qui-Gon nodded wearily, rubbing at his ankle. The cave didn't offer much protection but it would suffice for the time being. All they needed to do was remain alert as to any approaching danger, although the chances of anyone believing them still alive after a drop like that was fairly remote…especially when Qui-Gon himself could scarcely credit it. The force would warn them should any enemies seek them out. A little mind-trick here and there should be enough to turn them away without resorting to bloodshed. However, if it should come to fighting they had to be prepared… "Do you still have your lightsabre?" Qui-Gon asked, still breathing heavily. As Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's eyes resting decidedly upon him a feeling of considerable unease began to stir within the padawan. Force, surely he hadn't lost it on the way down! Just imagine the humiliation of having to return to the temple only to go through the rigmarole of getting another one! Perhaps when he was allowed to make his own things might be different, but until then he had to make doubly sure that his sabre never strayed from his side. Beneath the heavy robes the padawan's fingers strayed all the way down to his belt, and to Obi-Wan's satisfaction he found his sabre still by his side. Qui-Gon caught his relief and smiled inwardly, but nonetheless held out his hand to the apprentice as if wanting to check with his own eyes that all was well. Frowning, Obi-Wan levered himself back up and with considerable effort hobbled over to his master. "Might I see?" Jinn asked. Obi-Wan dutifully unhooked the weapon from his belt and handed it to his master, who after a moment's close examination held the sabre aloft. "The power cells have been flooded." Qui-Gon commented, breaking the silence that had grown between them. "Obi-Wan, we've had this lecture before I think. A lightsabre can withstand water if it's looked after in the appropriate fashion but I'm afraid that your somewhat careless behavior has as good as rendered this weapon unusable, at least for the time being." On seeing Obi-Wan's face turn a crimson red shade Qui-Gon made his tone a little less harsh than it had been. "We all make mistakes, padawan. Just please, don't make me go through this particular one with you again, that's all. This weapon is your life! Remember that and you won't fail." "Yes master." Obi-Wan's mumbled reply was drowned out by the churning water outside. "Good. Because if somebody armed with a blaster came through that cave mouth right now you'd have to club him to death with it! What would you do, stop the blaster bolts with your hands?" Kenobi tried to huddle inwards away from his wet, clinging robes. "I never thought of that!" He smiled brightly. Qui-Gon pocketed Jemmiah's stone, taking great care that this time he could not sit on it, then unclipped his own lightsabre from his belt, turning the guard over and over in his hands before giving it a tentative shake. What they both needed now was to keep their focus straight on that cave entrance so that any unwanted visitors could be turned away with all expedition. When it was dark they might be able to risk moving from their current position, but until then… "At least we have one working sabre between us." Qui-Gon blew out a deep breath, pressing the activation button on the sabre guard, expecting to be greeted by the familiar snap-hiss column of green light. Instead there was the barest fizzling noise…a mere sparkle… And then nothing. Qui-Gon stood silently for a moment, looking implacably at the useless weapon. "Have I ever," he eventually turned to Obi-Wan, "taught you how to deflect blaster fire using your hands?" |
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