| It Takes One to Know One Part 6 - by Jemmiah |
| ENTRY THIRTY-TWO: I've already managed to get in Sal-Fina's bad books. I told her I needed to go back to Master Jinn's place and she told me to forget it and that if I needed something from my own room I should have remembered to take it with me in the first place. I just gave her a look - the one I give people when they REALLY ought to back down for their own safety - and told her that was fine, but perhaps she would like to explain to Master Jinn why his plants were all dead from neglect. Of course, they've only been gone a day but some of Master Jinn's plants are weird and need constant supervision. He's got this funny one that looks like a cross between a snail and a reddish-purple stone. It looks strange but I kinda like strange things. Master Jinn put me in charge of the plants whilst he was gone and I don't want him coming back and finding out they are all burned to a crisp… "You don't need to come with me!" Jemmiah grumbled, trying to keep up with Sal-Fina's longer-legged, easy stride, feeling more and more as if she were being escorted as a prisoner rather than a houseguest. The truth was that the Corellian was bored and had been looking for an excuse to simply go back and look around the place she considered home - even if she'd only left a day before. She wanted to be somewhere that she felt comfortable with, that was warm and welcoming, where all her belongings and toys were stored. Jemmiah wanted the familiar things in life around her, not the supercilious, cold and always suspicious Sal-Fina watching over her like some bird of prey always looking down her beak at her. Why couldn't she get off her back for once??? "I get the impression you don't trust me." Jemmy added, regarding the tall jedi out the corner of her eye. "That's because," Sal-Fina replied icily, "I don't. Do you think I want you snooping about where you're not supposed to be? Getting up to force knows what nonsense…doing all manner of things. It reflects on me, do you see? And," She paused for dramatic effect, sweeping back her silky golden hair with one flick of an elegant hand; "If you think I'm going to take the blame for your anti-social behavior then you are very much mistaken! If Qui-Gon comes back to find out you've burned down his apartment and yourself with it, you know what will happen?" "They'll give him another apartment?" Jemmiah hazarded a rough guess. "They'll blame me! So, I am watching you like a hawk. Do you comprehend that?" Warned Sal-Fina, her posture becoming rigid and uptight, as it always seemed to whenever Qui-Gon's name was worked into the conversation. That had been one of the most interesting aspects of staying with the miserable female and her airhead padawan, and having noticed the phenomena Jemmiah had taken great pains to make sure that she mentioned her guardian as many times as she could possibly get away with. Oh, yes - she'd experienced great delight in telling Sal-Fina that QUI-GON'S plants needed watering…the ones on QUI-GON'S balcony in QUI-GON'S apartment. Maybe they could use QUI-GON'S watering can…filling it up with water from QUI-GON'S tap in QUI-GON'S kitchen. It had been deliberately done to antagonize and provoke. What's more it had worked beautifully! But in a sense the victory of seeing Sal-Fina's milky white complexion flush intermittently with scarlet splotches had only caused her more trouble. Now the woman didn't trust her to do anything, and adding Master Jinn's name only seemed to heighten that dislike. Shoozer, Jemmy thought furiously, what had he done to make her hate her like that? Every time the word "Qui-Gon" was mentioned Sal-Fina spent the next hour looking for all the world like a child whose rattle had been stolen - but was too uptight to scream about it! And the whole thing with her diary - that had backfired in priceless fashion! Sure, it had gotten the gruesome twosome more than a little worked up, but now Sal-Fina regarded her as some nut-case who went around chopping people up in their beds whilst they slept! Yeah, good one Jemster! The Corellian scolded herself. Real smart! Talk about making things difficult for yourself. How do you do it? "I don't know why you couldn't have watered the plants before you left!" Sal-Fina muttered beneath her breath. "It's a perfectly reasonable thing to do!" "I didn't have time! One minute I was saying goodbye to Ben and the next thing I knew," Jemmy sniffed, "I was told I had to clear out of QUI-GON'S apartment because I had to stay with you." The derision in her voice was thinly disguised and Sal-Fina's thin lips all but disappeared off her face. "I'd much rather have stayed with QUI-GON." "Well he's not here, is he?" Sal-Fina remarked unnecessarily, as if Jemmiah didn't know it for herself. "So you'd better do as your told. I don't want any trouble from you. I like my life simple and uncomplicated - that means you follow my rules. Maybe that way we can put up with each other." She and Jemmiah simultaneously both stopped in the corridor to glare at each other, civility keeping revulsion barely in check. "Although I somehow doubt it." She added tersely, sweeping the girl up and down with her eyes one more time, then turning away. Jemmiah bit her lip, outraged, and made a mental note to 'up' the amount of times she mentioned Qui-Gon's name in conversation. "What will you do if he doesn't come back?" Sal-Fina asked in a matter-of-fact voice. "Where will you go?" The blood seemed to congeal inside Jemmiah's veins. How had she known??? How had that fire-breathing, nerf-brained specimen of concentrated evil on legs managed to pick up on the one fear that she'd struggled with the most since learning of her guardian's departure? Was she so easy to read - or had she logically arrived at her poisonous thought, knowing that there was nothing more in the galaxy that could hurt her more than the idea of Ben and Quiggy not coming back? She'd not said it in a horrible way but that was partly what made it so bad...if it had been said spitefully then Jemmiah would have understood the miserable sith witch was just having a dig at her, trying to stir things up again. But no…she'd said it like she believed it…like it could happen… Don't listen…don't listen to her! Jemmiah wanted to place her hands over her ears and block out every other sound so she could concentrate on her chant. It won't happen, as long as you believe it won't. If you think that they'll leave you like all the others then that's what will happen. Qui-Gon often told her that thought precipitated action. She'd never been sure what that meant precisely, but she thought it had something to do with people thinking of something - and then it happened! Had she doomed poor Quiggy and Ben to a horrible, gruesome fate just by imagining all the bad things that could happen? The knot that had been in Jemmy's stomach the past few days suddenly seemed to constrict further still, until she wondered if she would be able to breathe without it hurting. Damn Sal-Fina for putting such doubts in her head! "I'm sure someone would take you in." Sal-Fina continued airily. "There must be some children's home that would agree to look after someone such as yourself. Better than ending up on the street, yes?" "They're coming back." Jemmy whispered to herself, desperately trying to believe it. "They've got to come back…" The infernal woman had spent the whole time rifling her way through all of Qui-Gon's stuff whilst Jemmiah carefully, gently - and with deference to the love that the absent master always showed them- watered the plants from the spout-can as dutifully as any daughter could. She'd never understood the master's love of all things green, possibly because she herself was so totally un-adept when it came to gardening! Jemmy wasn't at all fond of plants… Or Sal-Fina, if it came down to it. Never had she come across a person that less seemed to embody everything that a jedi was meant to be! Sure, Dex liked a laugh and a joke, never taking himself too seriously. Some of the padawans, especially the likes of Jay Abran, didn't seem to fit into the archetypal jedi mold either as far as she could tell, not that it made them any the worse for it. But Sal-Fina? What had she to recommend her except her beauty? And was she truly beautiful, Jemmy wondered, when inside she was so frozen and cold, like an ice statue? Whilst the water trickled tentatively out of the spout Jemmy sneaked a quick look to see what Sal-Fina was doing… "Hey, that belongs to Ben - put it right back!" Jemmiah snapped on seeing Sal-Fina 'borrowing' one of the padawan's music discs from the wrack that stood near the holo terminal. "He never gave you permission!" "Did he give you permission?" Sal-Fina asked calmly. "Yes!" "And I am in charge of you. So I am taking temporary possession of it." Replied the fair-haired woman with an expression somewhere between a grimace and smug satisfaction. "I shall return it in due course. Besides, these disks are temple property. As somebody who lives in the temple I have a right to borrow them." "Not when he doesn't know." Jemmy growled. Sal-Fina blithely ignored her, pocketing at least two of the discs. That, sighed Jemmiah ruefully, would be the last time Ben would see those again. Jemmy hoped he wouldn't think she had stolen them, or shown herself to be totally unworthy of his trust in her to look after his things. "I'll tell him about it. If he comes back." Sal-Fina added pointedly. Again, Jemmiah's heart sank. That had been a totally unnecessary comment to make, but this time she felt far too hurt to feel angry. What would her life be like without them? A children's home seemed ghastly enough as it was…who would take her? She was scrawny, under sized and looked like a freak at the best of times! But there wasn't a place outside the temple where she would ever feel safe… "Are you done?" Sal-Fina frowned, catching Jemmiah staring off at nothing, seemingly day-dreaming. The Corellian girl shook herself back into reality. "Yes." "Good. Better make sure that they're soaked, because I am not coming back here again, which means neither are you." "You don't like me at all, do you?" Demanded Jemmy, smacking the watering can down on the table with such force that the water spilled from the nozzle and onto the wooden surface. Squaring up to her, Jemmiah suddenly became all too aware of how ridiculous the height difference was between them. What was she thinking of? Sal-Fina could squash her like a bug! But still she refused to back down. The grey blue eyes turned on her, surprised, as if the matter was never in any doubt. "Not really, no." She answered with an indifferent shrug. "Sorry." "Don’t be." Jemmy wiped the table surface clean with the sleeve of her top, hoping that it wouldn't leave a mark upon the wood for Qui-Gon to comment on if - when - he got back. "Because I don't like you either." Not surprisingly their rather strained relationship - what there was of one - disintegrated from that point onwards. Sal-Fina's chilling honesty hadn't exactly thrilled Jemmiah, although she didn't particularly care what the old misery thought of her, nor was she desperate enough to be loved by all and sundry to go crawling in order to appeal to Sal-Fina's better nature. Jemmiah was almost certain any way that she didn't actually have one… Still, if the young Corellian had issues with the casual admission of Sal-Fina's dislike of her it was nothing to the jaw-dropping incredulity that the jedi had experienced on being told much the same in return. But what had she expected, Jemmiah wondered, feeling greatly irritated by the woman's display of double standards. Did she think she'd get a hug, an air-kiss and a free bottle of Coruscant's finest sparkling bubbly? A round of applause whilst being showered with pink rose petals and confetti? How did the wretched Draigon have the nerve to feel even remotely galled that she'd been shown the same candid disregard that she herself had lovingly bestowed? Respect was a two-way thing, so Qui-Gon kept telling her. Without respect there could be no friendship. It was a wonder Sal-Fina had any friends at all. The other thing that seemed to get on Sal-Fina's nerves with unfailing regularity was the coughing bouts that, ever since she'd moved in with her, Jemmiah had attempted to stifle - if only out of politeness. There would be no such concessions made now! Germs would be launched with reckless abandon all over Sal-Fina's apartment. There would be no well-mannered hand placed over her mouth to save the spread of infection! This was real germ warfare, and no prisoners would be taken! If anything Jemmiah felt inclined to cough with even more vigor than before, no matter what discomfort was inflicted on her throat as a result. Soon she'd be well enough to go back to school. Should she laugh or cry? When that singular delight might occur was a matter of some personal speculation, and would inevitably rest with the professional judgement of An-Paj…which was why she had spent the last twenty minutes sitting in the infirmary waiting room, kicking her heels back and forward through a combination of anxiety and sheer boredom. The infirmary was never exactly her favorite place to be, no matter how kind and caring were the people who worked within its walls. The smell of cleanliness…the highly polished walls and floors…everything just so clinical and white… Still, it was better than Sal-Fina's company. When she'd told the master of her check-up appointment with the healer, Sal-Fina had merely pointed at the door and declared, "Well, you know your way to the infirmary. Get going, then." It had been a far cry from the supportive, always interested Qui-Gon Jinn who was always on hand to lend much needed moral support, no matter how busy he was. Then again, did she really want Sal-Fina's presence there? It was already a place of suffering, woe and misery without adding to it! "Jemmiah?" An-Paj wandered forth into the waiting room, beckoning her forward. The blue skin of his forehead creased into a frown, little lines of deeper blue appearing like cracks on his skull. "Are you on your own today?" He caught the unhappy sigh before it had even escaped from her mouth. "Yeah." She replied, eyes downcast. "Yeah, I am." The antennae twitched with slight concern. "We'd best have a look at you then, hmm? I'm sure you'll be itching to get away back to Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi, so we'll keep it as brief as we can…" The miserable look increased further still. What, An-Paj wondered, had he said that was so terrible? And why was she on her own? Qui-Gon always insisted on being there with her, no matter what: it had been a promise the man had made himself on taking the girl into his protection. "A man, having made such a deep commitment," Qui-Gon had told him in private, "must make good those choices and honor the letter of agreement. Otherwise his words are not worth the breath used to utter them and his good intentions rendered meaningless." Qui-Gon had stuck relentlessly to his promise to take care of the girl, even on some occasions taking that endeavor to protect and cosset too far, but he had not broken his word. So why was he not here? Jemmiah, looking for all the world like a lost soul in desperate search of guidance, followed him wordlessly out from the waiting room and into yet another of the infamous, sparkling white corridors she so detested. It was so bright that it almost hurt to look at the walls, causing her to screw up her eyes to shield them from the glare. "Ah, yes." An-Paj apologized, stopping to wave her into the examination room opposite. "I must admit that the lighting in this building can be a little brilliant, even I find it intolerable at times. You ask for the lights to reduce themselves down point five - next thing you know you're sitting in the dark! And vice versa. Makes your eyes hurt sometimes, doesn't it?" He asked, noticing the way she'd scrunched them tightly together. An-Paj walked over to the chair, placing his hands expectantly on the back, but refrained from sitting. "Or is there some other reason that you're trying not to let them water?" "I know what you're thinking." Jemmy's head couldn't have been any lower to the ground, nor her expression more hangdog. Behind her she heard the door close with a gentle swoosh, shutting out the galaxy and all her troubles for what would be a depressingly short amount of time. "But I'm not crying! I don't do that sort of thing…my eyes are sore from the light, that's all." "I see." An-Paj tried to humor her and patted the seat before him, indicating she should be seated. "So there's nothing bothering you at all…about your illness I mean." He added, seeing her head shoot instantly up from the direction of the ground. "How is the cough? Is it clearing up?" "I thought you guys were meant to know that kind of thing?" Jemmy pouted at him, causing the healer to laugh delightedly. "Isn't that your job?" "Bullseye!" An-Paj made a circling gesture at his head, as if painting a target. "You're quite right! Although I can only make a prognosis based on fact…and for that I need a little patient feedback." He saw the girl's face flush with embarrassment and waved the whole affair away, dismissing it as not important. "No matter. I would still like to hear how you are feeling. Any chest constriction? Any dizziness or weakness?" She nodded miserably. "It hurts," she placed on her chest, "here. And it's got nothing to do with my being sick." An-Paj pulled up the chair next to her and sat down, carefully folding his pale jedi tabard beneath him with all the precision and delicacy of nature one might expect to find in a senior healer. The wan face before him regarded him with such seriousness that he almost found it difficult not to laugh, but a healer was duty bound to treat all such confidences with the dignity and gravity they deserved, and so he settled instead on appearing as equally solemn as his patient. "Where is Master Jinn?" He asked in a kindly voice, leaning in further. His antennae twitched, inviting Jemmiah to believe he was on her side. "Is something the matter?" "They've sent him away." Jemmy mumbled, folding her hands on her lap and staring intensely down at them. "Him and Obi-Wan." "On a mission?" An-Paj took that in, digesting the news. "Well, I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. And what about you? Who is taking care of you in his absence?" The silence was shockingly revealing. "Who?" He repeated, now somewhat concerned. "They wanted to send for G'emela," Jemmiah began, watching An-Paj's face relax slightly with approval, "but she got hurt on her own mission and couldn't get back…" "I wasn't informed." Noted An-Paj in surprise. "I'll have to speak to the council and see if they have any additional information on the matter…incase Knight Lothric requires treatment on her arrival. So," he caught the uncomfortable look in her copper eyes, "if G'emela wasn't able to return…" Jemmiah swallowed, clasping her fingers tighter and tighter around each other. "Master Falmar." An-Paj's antennae seemed to perform what would have been an amusing double take had the situation been remotely funny to Jemmiah, but there was precious little to laugh about as she saw it. Too much of a gentleman at heart to directly criticize another master to someone's face, nevertheless An-Paj did seem to project an instant sympathy - pulling his chair even closer to that of her own. "Ah." He commented carefully. "An interesting choice of guardian, you might say." "I don't say!" Jemmiah rejoined, desperation causing her voice to raise. "I can do without that kind of interesting choice! I miss Master Jinn…I miss Obi-Wan. Sal-Fina's already as good as said she hates my guts…she stares at me all the time like I'm a weirdo! I caught her snooping around Qui-Gon's rooms. She even stole some of Ben's music discs! And she said I'd get sent to a kids home if Master J didn't come back!" "Whoa…slow down!" An-Paj held up a placatory hand, trying to dispel the stem of words that flowed relentlessly from her now loosened tongue. "First of all, Master Falmar has no say in what happens to you. It was the council who approved your staying here and they must have done so for a good reason. They wouldn't just hand you over to anybody. As for missing Master Jinn, why ever is that such a sin?" He asked her, twisting his head slightly to the side as if trying to get a better look at her. "Because I don't like to let people get close." Jemmiah answered sullenly. "That way when they…when they're not around anymore it doesn't hurt you. But they've only been gone one day and it hurts so much that I feel like I can't breathe! I try not to think about them but it doesn't work…especially when Sal-Fina keeps reminding me of how they might not come back." "Then that is not very kind!" An-Paj replied, feeling more than a little indignant at the way Jemmiah described her treatment. Of course, as a child prone to exaggeration there was a chance she was reading too much into Master Falmar's actions, but still - she seemed fairly adamant. And Sal-Fina was not everybody's idea of a compassionate babysitter. It made An-Paj wonder what exactly the council had been thinking of when they'd agreed to let the woman look after such a potentially problematic girl… "Tell that to her!" Jemmiah snapped, stopping to worry a nail between her teeth. "And she complains when I cough! I can't help it! I've told her that I've been sick and that I'm slowly getting better…" "And what did she say?" An-Paj wondered. "That she hoped for my sake that it wasn't contagious!" Jemmiah stabbed at her chest with her finger then gave way to a paroxysm of coughing and spluttering. "See…can't help it…she doesn't care! I could die and she wouldn't care! She didn't accompany me here or anything! Made me come on my own…Master J always goes with me!" An-Paj fell silent. The fact was - and out of duty to Qui-Gon - he might well have volunteered to take Jemmiah into his own household had he been made aware of the situation a little earlier. Certainly it made sense for G'emela to look after the child, being the former padawan of Master Jinn, but when that had fallen through An-Paj liked to think he'd have been considered worthy to step into the breech created by Qui-Gon's absence. From what he could gather, even on Nargotria Jemmiah had been surrounded by people, and for all that she was an intensely private and solitary minded young lady, An-Paj felt certain that she would have done very well under the watchful - and fussing - care of his six wives. It seemed on the face of things to be a logical solution. So why had the council not considered it? And why had they chosen Sal-Fina? "I'm going to do the usual tests." An-Paj gave an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid that means depriving you of a small amount of blood." "Will I ever be normal?" Jemmy asked him, catching him off his guard. "Normal?" "Will I stop getting sick and catching germs and stuff. I just want to be like everyone else. It stinks that I'm not normal!" She mumbled, feeling suddenly very weary indeed. It wasn't fair! Why did she have to be an aberration? Why did she have to be so small and babyish compared to those in her class at school? Whenever there was some illness going around she was usually the first to catch it - and the last to shake it off. "Your immune system doesn't work quite so well as other peoples," An-Paj replied gently, even although he wasn't telling her anything she hadn't already heard several times before. "But in time it will get stronger, and as you grow, it will slowly build itself up too. Perhaps," he added a cautionary note, "you might still be moderately more susceptible to germs and the like but hardly any more so than anyone else. You see if I'm not right!" He beamed at her, hoping to inspire some confidence. "Now, I want to make sure your immune system is coping well enough to let you back to school. Sal-Fina or no Sal-Fina, I'm not letting you set foot outside the temple before I know for certain you're not going to fall flat on your face or be carried back in here on a stretcher! However," he quickly added to sweeten the blow, "from what the force seems to be telling me - you are much improved! All being well, you can go back and join your classmates tomorrow." Jemmiah could have wept hot tears of outrage. Talk about the lesser of two evils. Sal-Fina's shallow, indifferent and cold presence? Or Sophie's malicious, angry, violent one? "I'd keep that stretcher handy, if I were you." Jemmiah pursed her lips as An-Paj rolled up the sleeve of her top, cleansing the chosen area of her arm with a swab. "Something tells me I'm going to need it." The healer looked up, surprised. "Sorry, what was that you said?" He asked, his voice thick with confusion. Jemmiah looked away, wanting to see neither the inevitable needle nor the questioning look on his face. "Nothing." She answered. "Just forget it." |
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