| It takes one to know one By Jemmiah |
| ENTRY TWENTY-SEVEN: The weather's horrible outside. Now that I can actually get up and about again there's nowhere to go. When I feel upset I hide in the gardens. I REALLY want to go there right now but it's raining heavily and Master Jinn would be annoyed if I went out with this cough. They are starting to make arrangements for their mission and all I can do is watch them miserably. All I can think of is 'what if they don't come back?' I guess I've got more attached than I thought I would… She'd already attempted to pick at her food but swallowing it somehow seemed impossible, as if the mouthfuls of salad would somehow stick in her throat and choke her. Not that she'd had much of an appetite to start with. There was just far too much going on in her mind to even think about something as trivial as eating… "Jemmiah." Opposite her, Obi-Wan was making substantial inroads on his own meal, just as he invariably did. There was little that would stop the padawan from tucking into a plate laden with food. Maybe she should take that as a sign of how relaxed he was with his new mission? And if he was relaxed, surely that meant there was little danger involved? Or was he merely exercising his jedi calm and control, not letting anything bother him unnecessarily? It was all so difficult to tell… "Jemmiah?" All she wanted to do was hide away some place, like the gardens. It was the most peaceful part of the temple, amidst all the trees and plants; the gentle sound of trickling water against stone soothing frayed nerves…she could sit out there for hours and hours just lost in thought. "Tangles? Are you okay?" Not that it would do any good on this occasion. All thoughts would inevitably turn to fears for her protectors. How could they stand it? How could they possibly face the danger again and again, never fully knowing what awaited them or if the next mission would be the last? To exist constantly with the threat of death…or the loss of a trusted companion and friend? Of being maimed and injured? Jemmiah had lived through such a situation for the best part of five years. Looking back on it now she sometimes wondered how she had survived without going mad… A hand waved itself in front of her eyes and Jemmiah blinked, recoiling with surprise. "Tangles? What's the matter?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning down at her. "Sorry?" "It's just that you've been chasing the same piece of goural round your plate for the last ten minutes." He elaborated, his frown increasing when she didn't at first reply. "Are you still feeling unwell?" He saw her eyes cloud with what he interpreted as uncertainty. "The truth, please. I don't want you hiding any illness from me again, not after the last time. Remember?" He added pointedly. Jemmiah was so tempted to lie. Maybe if she told him that yes, she was feeling worse again then he and Obi-Wan would stay! Perhaps he'd tell the council to find somebody else to send on the mission? All she had to do was make it sound convincing…even if it cost her a few extra days of utter boredom, confined to bed. And perhaps she'd have to drink some more of that disgusting green tea stuff that Qui-Gon seemed to think was so good for ill people…but wasn't it worth the trouble if it kept them safe? But she couldn't bring herself to lie. Both jedi deserved the truth, not some make-believe tale of suffering. Surely Qui-Gon would sense she was lying anyway? Then how would he ever trust her again? Even if he bought her story, sooner or later they would be sent on a mission. What was the point of delaying the inevitable? "No, sir. I'm fine." Jemmy looked down at her plate, finally spearing the illusive goural with her fork. "You seem rather subdued." Observed Qui-Gon, catching Obi-Wan's skeptical eye. "And you've hardly touched your food. Are you sure you're feeling better? Because you're not acting like it." "I'm okay." Repeated Jemmiah quietly. "I'm just not hungry." This time Obi-Wan's brows knit together dubiously. "You've got to eat something." He reminded her brusquely. "Otherwise you'll take longer to get over the illness." "Obi-Wan is right." Qui-Gon rejoined, placing a broad hand against her forehead. "Feed a cold and stave a fever. I don't want to get back from this mission and find you in the infirmary. I'll let G'emela know that you've been under the weather and she can keep an eye on you…" Jemmiah placed her fork - goural still attached - down on the plate and pushed it aside with one hand. The mention of G'emela had only served to remind her of the fact that very soon now Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would be far away - and there was nothing she could do about it. Not that she needed reminding: there had been very little else to think about these last few days. Jemmy swallowed, and wondered if she was going to be ill. "I'm tired, that's all." She replied miserably. "I think I'll lie down for a bit." "What about your supper?" Qui-Gon asked as Jemmiah rapidly excused herself from the table. "Shall I leave it for you?" But there was no answer: the door to her room closing swiftly behind her, leaving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan staring aimlessly at the empty space where she had disappeared from sight. Neither of them could fathom the reason for the Corellian girl's extremely odd behavior. Certainly she'd been unwell, but it hadn't really affected her in so adverse a way as to stop her from eating. So what was the cause of it now? And why was it that Qui-Gon secretly felt a certain degree of alarm building within him? "Maybe she's got one of those eating disorders." Obi-Wan whispered, scraping the uneaten food from Jemmiah's plate onto his own with his knife. "There's certainly no chance of such a thing in your case." Qui-Gon observed with a shake of his head. "No, I don't think it's to do with her bout of flu. I think she's worried about staying with G'emela. Force knows why…it's not as if she's a monster. I can understand a certain degree of trepidation," Jinn admitted, "but I was the one who brought G'emela up. Why should there be a problem?" Obi-Wan was tempted to remind his master that he'd also brought Xanatos up in his household, but refrained from making such a tactless remark. He could see what Qui-Gon was trying to say. But nothing was ever simple where Jemmiah was concerned, and one thing that Obi-Wan had learned over the past few months was that Jemmiah had a deep sense of insecurity she desperately tried to keep hidden away from everyone. Knowing there was a problem was one thing. Dealing with it was another. There had been little stability in Jemmy's life as far as the padawan could tell. Her father had died early, and all manner of people had come and gone at an alarming rate: both friends and family. Ironically enough, the most stabile environment she'd ever been offered had been that hellhole of a brothel on Nargotria - it was after all the place she'd spent the majority of her existence. And now, finally, she had a new family of sorts and a safe roof over her head - only to have her trusted guardians up and leave her to the tender mercies of a person who most people regarded as forthright to the extreme… "I don't know, master." Obi-Wan replied, not wanting to delve into the complexities that made up Jemmiah's way of thinking. "Maybe it's the anxiety of waiting that's making her on edge. She doesn't like good-byes. Maybe once we're away and she's accepted it then things will get better for her." Qui-Gon nodded approvingly. "I think you could well be right. Waiting is never an easy thing. Well, no doubt we'll be on our way soon enough." Qui-Gon remarked, casting a final look in the direction of Jemmiah's room before sitting down once again at the table. "Then there won't be a reason to worry…" From inside her room, ear resting firmly against the door, Jemmiah caught Qui-Gon's words and felt an invisible knife twist in her stomach. No reason to worry? There wouldn't be a single moment of the day when she wouldn’t worry, of that she was certain. Why couldn't he understand that? He could only see things from his jedi point of view - and jedi didn't worry, not ever from what she could tell. Life had been so much easier when she'd not allowed herself any emotional attachment. It had been a brutal, deadly, spirit crushing existence, to be sure - but now Jemmiah realized she could get hurt more ways than just a kick in the ribs by a well-aimed boot. By letting herself get so close to her jedi guardians she'd left herself wide open to a new kind of pain. In some ways, a blaster seemed more acceptable. ENTRY TWENTY-EIGHT: Looks like I'll be able to go back to school soon. Won't that be fun!?! (Sarcasm may not be a Corellian invention but it is a specialty, as Master Berlingside likes to say). It's going to be really awful as they are doing a project on the human body. Do you know how small I am compared to everyone else? It is so humiliating! We're all going to be lined up and measured as well. Sophie is just going to love it. I hear enough 'small fry' and 'stunted' jokes as it is. I've tried explaining that I'm skinny coz I got really sick but I don't understand how I'm so small. I just didn't seem to grow much past the age of seven. I've been stuck at this height since just after my mother died. I s'pose everybody looks on me as a little kid or a bothersome little sister. Anyhow, nobody's keen to speak to me at school coz I'm not normal like the others… Re-reading the words typed within her diary made for a rather grim period of introspection, one that had Jemmiah's teeth well and truly gritted. Damn Sophie! It was all her fault…it had to be! Everything was Sophie's fault! Had she cursed her? Jinxed her in some way? What did she have to do to be popular at school? Jump in front of a passing speeder? Throw herself off a building? What was it about herself that was so…unlikable? Jemmiah was the first to admit that she possessed a fiery temper, albeit one that was quick to cool once the initial flames of anger had burned themselves out. Controlling it wasn't easy as she had soon discovered, and always she worried that one day she might just lash out…snap at whoever was nearest…even if they didn't deserve it. And what if that person was Obi-Wan or Master Jinn? Perhaps they would send her away? Or equally bad: send her back to the soul healers… Qui-Gon was forever telling her that anger was a waste of effort - energy much better spent on constructive thought than destructive action. He was right of course: he usually was, but it didn't make things any easier for her. His stock answer to everything seemed to be meditation. Anyone could meditate, so he would often say, even a non-jedi. That was fine in principal but putting it into practice was just unbearably tedious to her. How could he stand it? All that sitting around, looking for all the galaxy as if he were asleep, wearing out his knees on the hard floor surface? Was he disappointed, she wondered, that she found it almost impossible to live up to his noble ideals and high standards? It was distressing because their was nobody else she wanted to impress more than Qui-Gon, especially as he had been so kind as to take her into his home and offer her protection from the predators and shadowy villains she knew would one day search her out… She shook the thought from her head. Sophie was her immediate problem, not Rufus Merdan. With a wry grin, Jemmy wondered exactly how long her class rival would have lasted on Nargotria. Not even half a day, if she was a good judge of character! A small part of Jemmiah remained proud of the fact that she had managed to survive at all, even if she knew deep down that her continued existence owed more to the protection of Nadine and her friends than any special tenacity she might claim for herself. Life on Nargotria had been hard - unbearably so at times - but she'd never felt alone at any moment during her five difficult years as a slave. After her mother had died there had been Rusa and Beralina: constant companions down in the safety of the kitchens. Pretty Suzette, who Jemmy had so wanted to emulate, with her glorious long hair and beautiful eyes…never once would she forget to wish her good morning. Nadine, who had been like a favorite aunt, happy to teach and recall her pre-chattel days…there had always been somebody there who would smile at her or offer her words of encouragement to get her through the day. And more than anything Nargotria had been about precisely that: survival on a daily basis. Looking any further ahead would lead to terrible, gnawing insanity… To an extent Qui-Gon, in assuming her role as protector and mentor, has undertaken the role of parent, but whilst she cared for both the jedi master and his padawan, Jemmy found talking to either of them excruciatingly difficult. It wasn't like it had been with Nadine, to whom she could pour out her troubles. How could it be? Nadine had lived through it all and understood. Wise as Master Jinn was, he could never fully comprehend what Nargotria was like. Anyway, did she really want to explain it to him just how nightmarish her former life had been? It would only depreciate his opinion of her further still. There was just no replacing Nadine. She had no friends on Coruscant, save the few of Obi-Wan's padawan buddies who nodded pleasantly at her in passing - and they were few and far between. She missed that special bond she had felt with her fellow slaves, each of them comrades in adversity, looking out for each other through thick and thin. Thinking of Nadine was like a dull, piteous ache that never went away, rendered all the more painful by the memories of the woman's tragic demise that ghastly day in the courtyard. There could, quite simply, never be anyone who could take her place. Could there? And where did that leave her? Her adored guardian on the verge of leaving, taking with him one of the few people she could call friend. Leaving her with G'emela…with Sophie… "Damned if I'm gonna let it beat me!" Jemmiah sat up suddenly, her Corellian temper threatening to boil up from within her like a hot spring. "If Digwurt thinks she can scare me she can kriffing think again, pardon my vile Corellian tongue!" G'emela might be okay. And after all, as she'd reasoned earlier, they had Master Jinn in common. If this G'emela liked to talk and listen as much as Master Berlingside suggested, perhaps she could win her over and get some juicy gossip on Quiggy! Yes, that held a considerable amount of appeal! "Maybe I'll actually like her." Jemmiah brightened for a moment, thinking of the possibilities. "I mean, how bad can she be? It's like Master Berlingside said: how can she be worse than Sal-Fina? I guess I should feel lucky to have someone to look after me at all: it's not like she had to agree. Maybe she wanted to do it?" Of course she'd far rather it was Dex than G'emela. She had a fancy to beat him at Sabaac again… "Jemmiah, are you asleep in there?" Qui-Gon's voice warned from the other side of the door, cutting in on her thoughts. "Yes." She replied flatly. "It doesn't sound like it." "I'm saying my prayers." Replied the Corellian archly. There was a long, uncertain pause on the other side of the door. "What prayers?" "The ones where I intercede with whatever Corellian deities happen to watch over aging Jedi masters and their padawans to stop them from getting flattened!" Jemmiah responded adamantly. For a moment Jemmiah strained her ears, wondering if Qui-Gon would reply that she should have more faith in the force, just as he had, or that he wasn't in need of any help - Corellian or otherwise. Maybe he would just tell her off for not going to bed when she should have been asleep hours ago. No doubt he'd be disappointed in her again. "A little extra goodwill is always appreciated." Qui-Gon answered finally, surprising her. "But don't stay up too late. I don't want any Corellian deities taking their wrath out on me because you wore their ears out!" He gave what sounded like a small, amused cough. "We're leaving early in the morning. I suggest that if you want to see us off then you try to get some sleep." "I will." Jemmiah replied, sighing, fingers hovering above the diary's keypad. Silence. "And Tangles - put that diary down." "Yes, sir." Jemmiah grinned lazily and hit the off button with her index finger. Maybe she wasn't so alone in her thoughts as first she had feared. Perhaps there was more in common between them than at first met the eye. It seemed as if Qui-Gon knew her pretty well after all… Obi-Wan found himself desperately trying to smother the beginnings of a yawn, concentrating hard to keep the corners of his mouth well and truly facing down in an effort to combat any tale-tell signs of fatigue. He knew he could do it if he tried hard enough. Maybe if he opened his eyes extra wide to give the impression of being alert then Qui-Gon might allow him to stay up just long enough to discuss the problem that had been bothering him for the past few days. In all honesty he supposed that the question would keep until the morning once safely away from Jemmiah's hearing…it was just that he knew that tomorrow there would not be a suitable time. All senses would be fully focused on facing the challenges of their mission, as Qui-Gon would no doubt agree. Unkind as it might sound, they would have to put all thoughts of Jemmy right out of their mind from the moment they left the temple first thing in the morning. Damn, had he just yawned, he wondered distractedly? More to the point had Qui-Gon seen it? "How is she, master?" Obi-Wan wondered on seeing his master return to the living quarters. "Wide awake." Answered Qui-Gon with a defeated shrug of his shoulders. "Unlike some I could mention around here. Go to bed, padawan. We have an early start ahead of us." Obi-Wan frowned, feeling the weight of Qui-Gon's inscrutable gaze fall upon him. "I'm not that tired, master. Really." "You've yawned sixteen times in the space of five minutes." Jinn folded his arms, rebuffing the protests that would surely follow. "Even when I had my back to you I could still see them in my mind's eye. Padawan, please get some rest. We cannot tell what awaits us round the corner. Who can say when we might next get a decent amount of sleep? Better to take your chance whilst you can." In the face of such common sense Obi-Wan all but caved in, merely hesitating long enough for Qui-Gon to point out that it looked as if his face were about to shatter in an attempt to stop his bouts of yawning. He needed to have his wits about him if he were to be of any help to Qui-Gon: after all he was one half of a partnership, each relying on the other to watch each their backs in moments of crisis. It would be the most dreadful thing imaginable were Qui-Gon to get injured or worse still killed through a lack of sharpness… So concerned had the padawan been with this particular train of thought that he had been initially unaware he'd got to his feet, his body automatically doing as Qui-Gon suggested, heading towards the door. Surprised, Obi-Wan's youthful, somewhat pale complexioned face turned to face his master in the hope that he might yet be able to get an answer to the question he'd been meaning to ask these last few days. "Master…" He began uncertainly. Qui-Gon eyed his apprentice with curiosity, sensing the unasked question. "What is it?" "What will happen if…" Obi-Wan paused, attempting to clear his mind of emotion and structure his sentences coherently so that Qui-Gon could understand him better. "We don't make it back to Coruscant? For whatever reason." He added, hoping he didn't seem overly concerned. The master considered for a moment. "If that is the will of the force then…" "No, master." Obi-Wan apologized, inclining his head as if sorry for the correction. "What I meant to ask was what would happen to Jemmiah if something untoward befell us? If we never made it back…" He watched Qui-Gon's eyes lose a little of their brightness, his face becoming slightly taut. Had he been wrong to ask such a question on the eve of their departure, Obi-Wan wondered bleakly? Qui-Gon for his part didn't seem irritated, rather resigned. Quite what that meant he didn't like to think… "It's a reasonable question." Qui-Gon finally remarked, looking anything but happy. "After all, it could happen to either one of us. Maybe not this time, or the next - maybe it never will - but there is always that possibility." "I'm not unduly worried about the mission, master." Obi-Wan replied cautiously. "But I wouldn't like to think that Jemmiah would be left without a protector of some description." His blue eyes followed Qui-Gon's tall frame as the master walked around the room, his mind seemingly turning over every possible scenario. There wasn't just the prospect of physical death but there was also the risk of serious injury, which equally might push Jemmiah into a situation where she no longer had anyone to offer her adequate care. Then what? "Should she not perhaps have a second legal guardian?" Ventured the padawan in slightly more timid fashion than before. "That way if the worst ever happened she would still have someone to look out for her." He was saying nothing that Qui-Gon himself hadn't thought of on numerous occasions. The problem was not whether it was a good idea but rather who: after all, there were few individuals that came to mind who would take on such a burden. And Qui-Gon did not use the word burden unadvisably: what was a pleasure and a privilege for him would undoubtedly be a millstone around somebody else's neck. No, this was something he need to give a lot of consideration, far more than he had time for at that moment. After all, Jemmiah's future happiness might well in the end come down to finding the right candidate. To place her with someone who didn't want her would be almost as bad as leaving her on that force-forsaken nightmare of a planet called Nargotria… "I will think on what you have said." Qui-Gon nodded curtly to Obi-Wan. "It is possible that perhaps Master Ashdal or Master Berlingside might agree to act as second guardian to Jemmiah, should the worst ever happen. But let us hope that it does not. You at least may yet have the privilege of growing old with the passage of time. As for myself…" Qui-Gon stopped, as if shaking some peculiar feeling from out his mind. "Master?" "It's not important." Answered Qui-Gon quietly. "We go where the force demands us. That's all there is to it." Obi-Wan mulled his master's words in silence for a moment, not certain what he should make of the strange, somber change of mood. Both realistic and fatalistic he might well be but Qui-Gon was rarely melancholic. The oddness of the man's mood struck Obi-Wan, and for a while he stood in his tracks, uncertain what to say or what to do next. "I'll look after her." Some strange prompting of the force inspired him to utter. "If anything happened to you, I mean. I'd see that she was protected." Qui-Gon's wistful smile increased by a miniscule fraction. "The offer is a kind one, padawan, but…" "I would find a way." Obi-Wan replied stubbornly. "If it was your wish. You know I would always honor your wishes." "You set great store by honor, don't you?" Qui-Gon asked searchingly. The padawan nodded slowly. "A jedi has little else." Obviously the answer was one that Qui-Gon commended, judging by the reappearance of the cunning glint in the man's eyes. He hoped he hadn't spoken out of turn when he'd offered to look after Jemmiah should anything befall his master: he'd expected the older jedi to wave the suggestion expediently away. Instead there had been only that sly amusement, that small acknowledging look of pride, which Obi-Wan hoped meant that even if the offer was not taken up; it was at least approved of. It was difficult to tell what his master was thinking some times. "I may remind you of that one day." Qui-Gon warned, wearing an expression so puzzling to Obi-Wan that the padawan could not tell whether he was joking or serious. "As for Jemmiah…I think we will leave this one to the will of the force. No doubt in time the right solution will make itself known to us." "Yes, master." Obi-Wan bowed deferentially. "Good night." "Good night padawan." Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan head off towards the direction of his bed, knowing that he himself should take his own advise and do likewise. His padawan's question however bothered him. Jemmiah's presence in their lives had complicated matters in ways he could not have foreseen. Where before there had only been himself or his padawan to think of there were now extra considerations to be made. How well he was coping with these considerations remained to be seen… |
 |
|
|
|