Coming Home

By LuvEwan

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After a long, traumatic assignment, Knight Obi-Wan is allowed to come home.

AU.

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pg-13

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disclaimer: all recognizable characters and settings are strictly the property of George Lucas. I receive no profit whatsoever from the sharing of these works.

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The lights were dimmed to a trembling glow, spilling warm amber incandescence on the huddled figure.

The din of mechanical beeping, steady and constant, permeated the silence. When he took a step closer, the heart monitor worked faster to track the frantic beating.

Mace shook his head slowly. "Shh…" He soothed, and reached out a hand.

Obi-Wan quivered beneath his thin sleepclothes. He sat on the hospital cot, slumped back propped against the wall, knees pressed to his chest.

His head was bowed, a curtain of soft ginger concealing weary eyes.

But the bruises, dark splotches of violet and blue, were not so easily hidden. They stood out on paled ivory skin, grim reminders of blows unblocked, of pain endured.

Other injuries, some far more serious, lay under the shroud of clean, sterile hospital gown. They all were treated with the precision and care expected of the renowned Temple healers. Bacta was applied to each laceration, spread coolly over every tender contusion. Shattered bones were mended, fever reduced.

But now, as the mahogany-skinned Council member studied the Knight, he saw that something in Obi-Wan sorely needed to be tended.

Abruptly, a pair of cerulean eyes drifted up to him, bejeweled gaze haunted with the shadow of melancholy. Dark crescents rimmed those eyes. His breaths came in ragged pants. His fingers curled tight around the loose sleeves, shaking.

Mace touched a swelled, pallid cheek.

Obi-Wan flinched, fine beads of moisture tracing a path down his face. He shuddered weakly.

It was a devastating sight. Kenobi was perhaps the most valued Knight currently in the Order. His inherent skill with a lightsaber was only rivaled with his intellectual prowess. He approached situations with caution, courage and a dry wit. Charm sparkled in his distinct, young visage. Compassion flowed through his veins.

He was the epitome of a Jedi.

And, the very definition of a good man.

But this form huddled in the dark, drained of his natural, beautiful light, was a shell. A mockery of the true soul buried beneath the suffering.

The healers could alleviate his discomfort, could cure his aches…

Yet, in Master Windu's memory, there was only one way to ease the malady afflicting this gentle mind.

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Qui-Gon Jinn sat on the sofa, eyes fixed lazily on the fraying edge, where threads had loosened over the many years of its use.

Stretching on its length, his large frame snug but comfortable, listening to his first apprentice type furiously on a mission report that needed completing, complaining of everything from the stiff surface of the desk chair to the slow computer functions…

Watching his second student, the vibrant flash of a boy, obsidian hair flowing as he practiced the high level kata, hands gripping his weapon a bit too tightly, jade eyes pooling with a strange, dark determination…

Trying to slide from under the limp weight of this third Padawan, who had collapsed atop his Master after a long, tiring session in the spar arena, his brilliant eyes drooping, his hot breath somehow sweet, even with the sweat still slick on his skin…

And now, a man much older, chestnut hair streaked with gray, Qui-Gon rested.

There were new memories set in the well-loved couch, ingrained in the soft, worn brown material, but he was, truthfully, too weary to think of them.

Anakin Skywalker was bursting with undeniable energy, a bolt of fire blazing across the mind and heart of his Master.

Such a sudden change it had been, after that time of tranquility, like cool water trickling through his scorched soul from the last betrayal, like the blue beauty of that man-child's eyes…

He shook his head, as if the physical action would clear his mind. A short, soft beep alerted him that the tea was finished brewing.

He was heading toward the steaming kettle when a more startling buzz, that of his door's keypad, announced the arrival of a guest.

Qui-Gon glanced out the window. Coruscant scantly slept, and when the grand sweep of city finally did, it was gradual. The neon lights and blinking signs faded, but never quite dissipated among the natural darkness. Traffic ebbed, though cloud cars could still be caught zooming through the air, some leaving orange and scarlet ribbons of flame in their wake.

It was late.

Too late for a visitor, since the Temple had settled collectively to slumber some time before.

Brow crinkled, he hastened gracefully to answer the mechanical call, dressed in tan pajamas akin to his normal daywear. The Master pulled on his robe as he walked and smoothed his somewhat ruffled mane.

He increased the lighting from dim illumination to a brighter setting.

Then, Qui-Gon opened the door with a flicker of fingers.

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Mace stood in the shadowy corridor, his smooth, hairless head gleaming. His eyes were piercing and focused…with an underlying weariness unusual for the Council Member. His thin lips were pursed. "Qui-Gon." He said simply.

The image of the man, however, paled when the towering Jedi saw the form bundled in his arms.

He frowned. "Mace--what--" He found words had fled his mind . Qui-Gon stared down at the smaller Jedi, wrapped in a cloak, large cowl concealing what the Master knew to be a soft mane of auburn.

Almost in a trance, his hand journeyed slowly toward the young back…

Only to halt when he noticed the slight tremors afflicting him, the listless way he grasped to Mace's tunic.

Qui-Gon had the sudden urge to circle his peer, to take in his former pupil's face, which had always displayed the emotion beating within.

But Mace's smooth, dark hand cupped the young Knight's head. "He's asleep." He whispered.

Qui-Gon's eyes were sewn to Obi-Wan. He nodded. "Come in."

---

Mace stepped into the apartment. Qui-Gon moved briskly ahead, disappearing into his bedroom.

Obi-Wan's weight had decreased rapidly, but the burden was still considerable for the tired man to bare. He lowered him to the overstuffed sofa, the gaunt body boneless.

"Here." Qui-Gon rumbled softly. Very gently, he lifted his former Padawan's head, slipping a pillow beneath.

The movements caused brief alarm to twist Obi-Wan's features. Qui-Gon shushed him while tucking the robe around his chest. Then, still leaning over the sleeping Knight, he ghosted a tender touch along his golden forehead.

He turned to meet Mace Windu's intense eyes. "Sit. Please."

Mace complied wordlessly, slumping in an armchair and tipping his head against the cushioned backing.

Qui-Gon sat on the free space beside Obi-Wan's naked feet. His posture was rigid with concern, the planes of his face a contrast in light and dark. "Mace, what has happened?"

There was a heavy sigh. Strong, slim fingers tented out of habit. "A mission. A relatively high risk mission. The planet, largely unknown, had just been accepted into the Republic and---"

Qui-Gon's brow curled. "But I haven't heard of any recent additions to the Republic. I keep up with such things as well as I can."

Mace shook his head. "This happened…a while ago."

Dread stirred in midnight blue eyes, though he quieted.

"N'h'ago was a questionable entry, due to its unstableness. Two factions war constantly over every issue, no matter its trivial value. Most of these fights escalate to violence. " He swallowed hard. "People were dying, Qui-Gon. Bystanders, innocents mixed up or brainwashed.

"And elections are the worst arena for battle. Obi-Wan was sent to oversee them. After a few days there, he sent some private transmissions expressing his opinion concerning the two candidates. He believed one was deeply corrupt, perhaps even involved in serious criminal activity.

"Somehow, the faction this candidate belonged to was tipped off. Obi-Wan was injured badly by---several blaster bolts to his leg, midsection and chest. " Mace's disgust was obvious; his rich voice fumbled over the words. "They took him to a deserted, closed-in area, while the faction declared their enemies had kidnapped the Jedi."

Qui-Gon's fists clenched tighter as he listened. His breaths seemed razors slicing his throat.

"Obi-Wan was also their enemy. And they didn't treat him kindly.

"A neutral source alerted the Council of Obi-Wan's disappearance. I was dispatched immediately."

Something crossed Mace's visage, shading his eyes, where there was a hint of moisture. "When I found him, he was pressed into a corner. He was filthy. Grime staining his skin everywhere. His teeth chattered…because they had taken his clothes…and blood covered him.

"I tried to talk to him, to evaluate his condition, but he hardly knew I was there. I took him into my arms and he screamed. He clawed at me, like some wild thing."

Mace paused as Qui-Gon registered the startling, heart wrenching information.

The Master glanced at Obi-Wan, who had curled into a taut ball during the talk. His lungs ached sharply for the agony he imagined his dear friend had endured.

"By the time we returned to the transport, he had gone completely meek, lying passively as I cared for his wounds."

Qui-Gon placed his hand lightly on Obi-Wan's ankle. "You didn't take him to the hospital?

"No." Mace admitted. "There was no way I would put him in that danger. N'h'ago wasn't a safe place for him, or for any Jedi, I'm certain. " He said gravely. "There were countless cuts and bruises…in many places. He would only weep, so soft and miserably, hands tangled in his hair, like he was going to rip it out."

Jinn quelled a wince.

"When we reached the Temple, he was taken to the Healers. He remained there, in forced sleep, for a week. Then another two after that.

"He's been so…unlike himself, Qui-Gon. He doesn't speak or eat, his rest is constantly interrupted by what I gather are horrible nightmares. And we have no idea what really occurred during his captivity."

"Why wasn't I told until now?" The question came, stonily.

Mace frowned. "You and Anakin were light years away. Would you have preferred us to wait for your return?"

Qui-Gon sensed the open exhaustion in the Councilman's demeanor. He felt his cheeks warm with a chagrined flush. "I apologize, Mace. It' s just---" He gave up, suddenly tired himself.

"I know. He's been in Hell, Qui-Gon. And he's not letting anyone in." His gaze journeyed to Obi-Wan, pallor pasty and body overcome with chills.

Instinctively, Qui-Gon shed his own robe, draping it over him.

Mace nearly grinned. "I knew you would be the one. If anyone can bring him out of this, its you." He looked at the other Jedi, unsettled. "You are agreeable to taking him under your responsibility for a short while?"

Qui-Gon's response was instant, without conscious deliberation. "Of course. As you know, Anakin's engaged in his first solo mission. I don't expect him back for a week, at least."

Mace stood slowly and walked over to him. He squeezed a broad shoulder. "Thank you, Qui-Gon. The entire Order thanks you."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I would do anything for him." He said simply.

After favoring the young Knight with one last, compassionate gaze, he strode to the door. "I know."

When the apartment's opening was sealed, the past Master and apprentice were left in the silence…and the overwhelming pain that engulfed the humble space.

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For a few minutes, he was taken back to his reminiscing, hopelessly transported to the times of his past when this single, (he hated to admit) shabby piece of furniture had been a sort of haven

But not every memory was a gossamer image dusted with sentiment. Qui-Gon was a Jedi, and as such, his life, and the lives of those closest to him, were filled with hardship.

This couch had been a sickbed, molding softly to the forms of each apprentice during illness. He had perched on the plush edge, mopping sweaty brows and moistening cracked, parched lips, while moonlight provided illumination and, it seemed, fuel for raging fevers.

It was a cradle, surrounding and comforting, when sleeping quarters were too far a trek. He had held a Padawan here, cushioning a weary, bruised head with his broad chest. The boy's body had been broken. Truly shattered by the ship crash, and the traumatized bones left the poor youth moaning . Even this pliant surface had been harsh against his form. So Qui-Gon had taken the child into his arms, and they remained in the embrace throughout long, painful nights. He had not been a young man then, but the couch provided support to his aching back, while he offered solace to his abused protégé.

And now, here they were, once more.

Years had passed, reshaped their existences and deepened any lines in their faces…

But perhaps, in their hearts, nothing had changed at all.

He gazed at Obi-Wan, who retained that childish innocence in the round shape of his countenance and the shining of his eyes, closed behind darkened lids, and managed to smile.

His Obi-Wan was home, even if only for this short time of convalescence.

And Qui-Gon would ensure that this time would be remembered not for the pain and traces of the horrifying mission, but for the fact they were together again.

His callused fingers found the silk of light-colored hair and combed through the ratted length.

Obi-Wan's breath hitched. Qui-Gon withdrew, cringing as he thought of his foolishness.

Mace had told him of his former Padawan's condition. If he wanted Obi-Wan to recover, he must go slowly.

The Master gathered the smaller Jedi without much effort, carrying him down the hall into the apprentice quarters.

The room was neat. Anakin always tidied up well before leaving on assignment.

Qui-Gon snorted. If only he'd display that same order when we're actually HERE.

He bent to pull the comforter and tightly tucked sheets back. Obi-Wan whimpered hoarsely as he was jostled. Qui-Gon paused to press a calming kiss to his forehead, then settled him under the covers.

Obi-Wan's cheek was turned against the pillow, his hands motionless on his belly.

Qui-Gon was disconcerted by the position. Usually, he would have sprawled on the mattress, limbs stretched, on his stomach.

He was momentarily tempted to move him to that more natural arrangement, then decided it was best not to alarm him any further.

Leaving the door partially ajar, he padded to his own room.

He sunk down to the bed, and found himself with his spine flat against it, fingers twined, resting on his midsection.

The man chuckled at that and closed his eyes.

But it seemed the night was uneasy, the drapes rustling and creaks absorbing his attention each time he began to doze.

Qui-Gon sighed. Sometimes, it was as though nature manifested his own emotions.

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He woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open so wide the rims ached.

It had not always been his way, to come to such full awareness all at once. Before…Before it happened, he had reveled in the soft, dreamy moments between sleep and consciousness, snuggled deep in the warmth of a thick blanket and the insulated feeling that surrounded his mind like a heated balm. Thoughts were lazy and easily drifted away. A sort of contentment fogged his senses-and he was glad for it.

But now, after the horror had scraped those permanent marks on his soul, and his body, Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to linger in a groggy state.

For so long, he was forced to pay painfully precise attention, to train his vision on any strange movements, to never leave himself vulnerable for attack, even with the shackles digging into the raw flesh of his wrists.

No… The word rang sharply in his head, carrying with it the fear and awful dread of those days. He scanned his surroundings, body rigid, save the desperate panting of his chest.

The darkness overwhelmed the small room. He could faintly make out the contours of objects, but they were bathed in sour, yellow light, and Obi-Wan shuddered, as goose bumps rushed throughout his body.

No…where am I? He whimpered silently. No not again this can't be real not again NOT AGAIN

He shot from the slim bed, but his limps were caught in a tangle of sheets, and he smashed face-first on the carpeted floor.

The Knight attempted to scramble to his feet, until he realized he was too weak. His arms and legs seemed to be filled with lead; his neck felt unable to manage the weight of his head…

Which was strange, because his head was incredibly light…

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The muffled thud woke Qui-Gon mere moments before the shrill warning in the Force.

He leapt from his sleepcouch, the blankets falling away from him like a second skin, and he raced the small distance to Obi-Wan's---Anakin's---room.

Obi-Wan was lying in a heap on the ground. His stomach was pressed downward, one foot still holding somehow to the edge of the mattress. Two trembling hands were clutching damp, ginger hair.

"Obi-Wan!" The Master gasped, crouching beside him.

The younger man only quivered with more intensity.

Quieting his sometimes startling rumble of a voice, Qui-Gon moved him to his back, gently lowering the other leg from its odd, uncomfortable angle.

Obi-Wan sniffled, breathing in erratic bursts. His face would have been swallowed in the pall of the night, had it not been for the moon's illumination spilling over his distressed features.

"Shh…It's alright." Qui-Gon murmured, smoothing the wilt of auburn hair. He continued the litany as he lifted his former apprentice into his arms, even as he felt the dampness spreading in the miserable Jedi's sleep pants. "I'm here. I'm right here for you."

Fingers wrapped around his neck, not quite as a child's would, but startlingly close.

Qui-Gon ran his hands down Obi-Wan's stiff spine. "You're safe…It's alright…"

Obi-Wan collected enough strength to shake his head. "No…" He moaned, in a rasping tone that didn't remotely resemble the lilt of his usually cultured voice.

"Yes." Standing, Jinn increased the room's lighting.

Obi-Wan blinked furiously and buried his face in a large shoulder.

"Look, Obi-Wan." He urged without pressure. "Obi-Wan, you're home. See?"

More moisture seeped from the Knight, streaming from eyes clenched tightly shut. "No."

Qui-Gon had to swallow a lump rising in his throat. What has been done to you? "Yes." He waited a moment longer, but the head never lifted. He sighed. "Okay. It's okay. Everything's alright, Obi-Wan. We'll just get you cleaned up."

As they journeyed to the lavatory, Qui-Gon noticed his friend was cold, his skin clammy to the touch. He shook his head. My Obi-Wan…I will help you.

---

The fresher was alight with dim, warm amber that echoed the knowledge of the late hour. Qui-Gon was thankful for the mild illumination, as he was aware of the sensitivity Obi-Wan had adopted toward brightness.

He grabbed a terrycloth towel and small washcloth from the slender linen closet, then shifted the weight in his arms to lean toward the tub.

Qui-Gon was never particularly fond of baths, nor was Anakin, so the white basin had gone largely unused for the past decade. It was of great size, to accommodate his considerable frame, with a surrounding border and support bar. A decorative vase of flowers sat in the corner.

He could see the thin coat of dust concealing the true vibrancy of the yellow and white lilies.

Obi-Wan would have never allowed such slack, though he wouldn't have approached his Master about the growing grime or disarray. He would have quietly dusted, scrubbed and cleaned until the room was pristine. His own quarters were unfailingly spruce, a quality Qui-Gon had linked to the boy's need to please his indifferent mentor.

Long after the ice barricades between them melted, by the sheer warmth and love of the Padawan's heart, Obi-Wan was still compelled to straighten what was a tad crooked, wipe at fallen droplets before they could stain. It didn't make Qui-Gon smile, for it was a habit borne of loneliness and desperation. But he did acknowledge the deep affection Obi-Wan must have felt from the early stages of his apprenticeship.

The grubby man curled in his embrace, wearing nothing but a sweaty hospital gown was a pale version of who would have flushed if his new Master had glimpsed him in less-than-perfect form. That aspect of Obi-Wan's fears had ebbed since their friendship strengthened. But still…

This was not his Obi-Wan.

As if to argue the revelation, the Knight began to stir, bruised lips parting. "Mmmph…"

It was a distressed sound, and Qui-Gon was pulled from his musings. He switched on the water.

The clear stream shot out. The sudden noise further disturbed Obi-Wan. He clutched at his former teacher's long neck with his eyes closed.

Qui-Gon dipped the washcloth in the rising water, then smoothed it through the riotous spikes.

Heated moisture ran down Obi-Wan's head, tracing the outline of his head down to his neck. He sighed. "…want…"

"I know." Qui-Gon said. The simple words were soft and swelled with care. He shut off the steel faucet. The steam drifted up, disappearing only to reemerge as sweat beading on their faces.

The older man carefully slid off the thin sleepclothes and draped the towel around shoulders that seemed to cower.

He drenched the rag again, squeezed a dollop of pearlescent soap in the center, then worked it to a lather on Obi-Wan's battered chest.

Obi-Wan settled his head in the hollow of Qui-Gon's throat.

While he bathed the Jedi, Qui-Gon felt tears drip down his skin, and fought the sorrow building in his own. He cleansed the tortured flesh gently, wide, callused hands tender.

Obi-Wan cried out in a weak tremor of a voice when that touch grazed over sensitive wounds. Qui-Gon brought the cloth to a pallid cheek, massaging until the tiny sobs silenced. Red-threaded eyes blinked very slowly; the Master could tell they were barely able to focus.

"…h-hurts…" The black core appeared to have expanded in frightening dilation. Pain bled from the slim circle of cerulean.

"Release it to the Force." He urged, patting Obi-Wan's bare arm.

"..hmph…no…I…I can'ttt…"

Qui-Gon hugged him close, sending tendrils of healing energy through the uniting entity. Agony and smeared images, blurred recollections, spilled from the damaged mind. He could hear grating screams, feel errant blows rain down on his body while he was immersed in thick black…

He lowered his forehead to the dripping hair. "You can, my Obi-Wan." Trembling lips met the ginger strands. "I believe you can do anything."

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To be continued at this site…if I actually get some replies!!! J LuvEwan