Searching For Repentance

A Vignette by LuvEwan

PG

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Jedi apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi is caught up in the nightmare of lingering ghosts. A completed vignette

"NO!"

The scream was like cold slivers embedded quick in his throat. In the breathless moments that came after his eyes snapped open, Obi-Wan was sure he was choking on his own blood.

Although the sinister whispers swarming his skull suggested that the bitter taste of copper might have been the life shed by another, coming through the long passages of time as dreams traveled the darkened corridors of a sleeping mind.

A dream had certainly coursed his unconscious channels tonight, leaving the cold rivulets down his forehead and the painful prickling of dampened skin. His chest heaved with unsteady, gasping pants. The moon spilled through the blinds in glowing slices that cut across his small quarters, and lit the decade-old terror in his eyes, as fire to molding ash.

Ten years now, and the memories were as biting as they were in the early days, never failing to draw out the shuddering, horrified child in him.

Obi-Wan had braced himself on his palms, but suddenly flung the sheets aside and rose, moving in a pounding rush to the window.

His bare feet were warmed by the cushion of the carpeting, and he curled his toes in. Tightly.

Sith. He cursed when another fragmented image spun through his mental periphery, painted in severe strokes by bright red and shockingly pure white. Fresh blood and tangled hair. Obi-Wan shut his eyes and pressed his knuckles over them, until gray dots danced in the black. Why?

A single set of footsteps tread through the silence, and he didn't turn to meet the visitor.

With as much strength as he could muster, the apprentice willed the coming tears to retreat from his voice. "I'm sorry I've disturbed you, Master. The noise--" He paused to gather a strained mouthful of air, "I was overreacting to a dream."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his broad chest. Standing a short distance from his charge, clad merely in faded pajama pants, the Jedi Master was still somehow the embodiment of intelligence and regality. "Perhaps you do overreact now and then, my Padawan. But never in such trivial matters as dreams."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan lifted his gaze to meet with the man's. The proud face was patterned in shadow and the gentle effulgence of midnight. Even now, after the trials they had overcome and the deep bonds they forged, Obi-Wan could feel reduced to an urchin at the shoulder of a king. And in his Master's countenance he could see reflected so many of his own faults.

Qui-Gon moved toward him slowly, the silver streaks in his mane and beard catching the glare of distant yellow lights. Then, when there was scant space between them, he cupped Obi-Wan's cheek with a tender hand. "But I don't think we're talking exclusively of dreams, are we? Nightmares are something else, young one.

"And a tenuous past is even worse."

Obi-Wan couldn't hold the sapphires gleaming motionless in his Master's eyes. He had to look away, anywhere…And in the dark slate of his room, he found he was looking at ghosts emerged from the very walls.

Bruck.

He wasn't aware he had spoken the name aloud, hearing the accursed thing only within his thoughts.

But Qui-Gon had heard. And the Master detected very little difference between the painful delivery of that name, and the tortured wail that had so recently split through the night. "Holding it in will allow it to fester, Obi-Wan. You don't want that. And I don't want it for you."

Obi-Wan was perfectly still for a moment, rigid at every bone. Then he turned to his teacher, and a tear made rapid descent down his cheek. "I don't understand." He started hoarsely, "It isn't an anniversary. When I fell asleep, my mind was as far from that day as it's ever been." As it ever can be.

Qui-Gon was silent for a score of seconds, working through his own despair at the words so that he might lift the burden from the young man. "There are times when we just can't control the direction our mind takes, Padawan. But I think ultimately, you hold the advantage in this situation."

The apprentice waited for elaboration, carefully guarding his already reeling heart from any false hope.

"In the barest sense, nightmares are limited to an unconscious audience. Once you awake, it is your decision if you lend them your attention anymore. Just as time moves forward. It will not ask if you wish to move along with it. No matter what memories halt you, the days will play out." Qui-Gon wiped the tear track from abnormally pallid skin. "And the nights will bring their dreams, even if you are unprepared for them."

Obi-Wan swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes steadfast on that serene face. Slowly, he nodded. "I always think I'm prepared for it. The event…it hasn't ever changed. But every time," He swallowed again, lips trembling, "I-It takes me by surprise." The youth watched the shifting shadow in the depths of the room, and in his Master's eyes. "I know I should be healed of it by now."

Qui-Gon shook his head and pulled Obi-Wan into his arms. The smaller figure was inflexible against him, almost frozen in his residual fear and hypnotized by far off echoes. "At first, all those years ago, I thought that would have been enough." He spoke with softness against the spiked crown of his Padawan's head, hands tracing the hard line curved down the bare back. "I thought that if you could heal, you could, perhaps, forget how terrible it had been."

The words spurred the firmly footed form to a tremble.

"But soon, I knew that there are some things that cannot be erased in the soul. You shouldn't forget that day, my Padawan. And not because you owe some kind of retribution, for if that was a case, you would have repaid it long ago, in all the suffering you've already undergone. You should remember Bruck's death," It was then Qui-Gon felt the intense shaking begin, "Because it has impacted your life. It has helped shape you into what you are today.

"But remembrance doesn't have to torment you, Obi-Wan." The man had to fight to still the quake threatening his lip, "You are not a murderer searching for repentance from his crimes. Any Jedi worthy of the Order would have done as you did. And when you truly, in your heart, believe that, you can move in step with time again."

Obi-Wan stood in the harbor of his Master's arms, hesitant to move, afraid to let any thought reach him. But gradually, the memories soaked through his shields, as they always did.

When Obi-Wan went down, Qui-Gon went down alongside him.

So they sat on the ground, arms entwined. And when the sorrow surged in the younger Jedi, his Master was quick to give comfort, despite the knowledge that some wounds, no matter how worn, never began to heal.

The End.