DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
The title and subtitles are from Loreena McKennitt's song "Dante's Prayer" (from the CD "The Book of Secrets").
The distant orange sun was setting as Qui-Gon and Kenobi left the raider's stronghold. The sun's rays set the mist rolling in from the sea on fire and lit the sky with strands of gold. Nearby, waves crashed against the rocks while seabirds screamed overhead. The air was cold and sharp, and filled with the smell of the sea.
"So this is what freedom smells like," Qui-Gon thought vaguely. Actually, it was difficult to form any coherent thought patterns at all. The journey up from the bowels of the stronghold, keeping to the shadows and striving to be silent, had been difficult. Beyond difficult. Several times he had wondered if he would make it, despite Kenobi's help, but he had not given up. He could not. As a Jedi, he didn't know how to surrender. Nevertheless, without the boy he could not have completed the journey, no matter how much strength of will he had.
The pain in his leg had worsened, if anything, and the effects of the raiders' torture had left him alarmingly weak. Still, now that he was outside -- Qui-Gon straightened a little, easing some of his weight from the boy's shoulders, and drew in a deep breath, savouring the cool air that was free of the stench of evil that had marked the raider's stronghold. The Living Force flowed around him like the seabreeze and he could sense a myriad of lifeforms nearby -- fish swimming through the darkness below, birds sailing on the wind up above, tiny lifeforms living in between the damp crevices of the slippery rocks... Power began to sing through him and he hastily reached out for it, welcoming it, making it his own. When it recognized and answered him, he diverted it to his injuries, or at least to those hurts where it could do the most good. The damage to his leg was simply too severe. It was beyond whatever self-healing skills he possessed. Nevertheless, it was with a clearer head and much more confidence that he stepped away from Kenobi's support, balancing on one leg against the wind sweeping in from the ocean.
There was a muffled sound beside him. Qui-Gon turned his head. Kenobi was staring at him, an odd expression on his face. "I can sense what you're doing," he said bitterly. "But I can't do it. I don't know how."
Qui-Gon met the accusing gaze unflinchingly. "You never learned. It's difficult. It's only taught to Padawans after they achieve a certain level of control."
Kenobi blinked then turned back to the sea, laughing sharply, a quick burst of noise that did nothing to hide the pain underneath it. "I don't know why I expected sympathy from you," he said, almost to himself. "I should have known better."
"Would sympathy change anything?"
The laughter died away. "No. I suppose not." Kenobi hunched his shoulders against the wind then shot the man a quick glance. "Come on. The ship is this way." Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and took Qui-Gon's arm, helping him manoeuvre across the slippery rocks. Together they moved along the shore as the last rays of the sun dipped below the sea.
Twin moons had risen quickly and were lighting their path when Qui-Gon and the boy eventually came to a halt. There had been no pursuit -- their escape must still be unnoticed, although how long their luck would hold remained to be seen. Qui-Gon stopped, drawing in a few quick breaths, then stared at the means of their escape, bemused. Whatever kind of a ship he had expected, it certainly wasn't this. It was a small sailing boat, built for crossing oceans, not the stars. He turned to Kenobi, frowning.
As if reading his thoughts, Kenobi smiled mockingly. "Don't worry, Jedi," he said, reaching down to untie the rope that led to the boat's prow, "this isn't some intricate trap. This really is the way out."
Qui-Gon took a few limping steps away from him and eased himself down to a nearby rock, clenching his teeth against the pain. "I need to leave the planet, not sail to the next island."
Kenobi nodded. "Sure. But the way off the planet is on the next island."
"I don't understand. Surely the raiders would keep their ships close at hand. I can't see them all sailing away across the ocean every time the authorities show up. In fact, I don't understand why they came here in the first place."
"Because it's unlikely. And easy to defend. And yes, there's a whole fleet of starfighters on the other side of the island."
"Then..."
"But it's also rather well-guarded. Of course, if you'd rather try to take on 20 or 30 well-armed..."
"All right." Qui-Gon interrupted. "I see your point. "Then where are we going?"
The boy ignored him. Instead he beckoned Qui-Gon toward the now untethered boat. With a muffled groan, the Jedi clambered back to his feet and limped toward the vessel.
"Get in," Kenobi said. Wordlessly, Qui-Gon did so, watching as the boy put his shoulder against the hull, pushing the craft deeper into the ocean. The boat rocked, moving as the waves took it, becoming a living thing with the sea. Qui-Gon braced his good leg against the side of the boat and reached a hand out for Kenobi, who had waded in waist-deep, while steadying and turning the boat. The boy hesitated, then slowly reached up and took the Jedi's hand. With a heave, Qui-Gon pulled him in.
Kenobi instantly pulled his hand away, as if the touch had burned, then moved hastily toward the stern where he began unfurling the sail. For a long moment he was silent while he tied the ropes off then he spoke over his shoulder, answering Qui-Gon's question. "We're going to one of the other islands. There's a starship there. It will get you off the planet."
Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, his suspicions returning with a rush. "Then why isn't it guarded too?"
Kenobi brushed his hair back absently as the boat surged forward, the sail snapping in the breeze. The shore began to recede, disappearing into the darkness faster than Qui- Gon would have expected in a boat this size. Kenobi steered through the night confidently, as if he had made this trip a thousand times. Perhaps he had. For a long moment the only sounds were those of the sea, the wind, and the boat, slicing through the waves.
"The ship's not guarded," Kenobi said eventually, continuing the conversation as if it had never ceased, "because the raiders don't know that it works. They think it's just an old wreck that they abandoned."
"And does it work?" Qui-Gon's voice was carefully neutral.
"Yes. I fixed it. I always was good at mechanics." Was that a hint of pride in the Kenobi's voice? He turned to the older man, a faint smile on his face and for once, no hint of bitterness in his expression. For just an instant, Qui-Gon could see the other Obi-Wan Kenobi, overlaying this one -- the cheerful 13 year old boy, a hint of mischievousness about him, a little recklessness, but nevertheless a good heart... And a wave of pain, so strong that it eclipsed anything he had felt up to this point, surged over Qui-Gon. "I did this," the Jedi thought in anguish. "Because of me that boy is gone, as surely as if the pirates had killed him. I did this..." The pain tightened around his heart and his vision blurred.
Something must have shown on his face, because Kenobi looked sharply at him. Then the familiar cynical mask was falling over him again. "Emotions, Jedi? I thought you didn't have to worry about those..."
Qui-Gon sighed. "We have emotions. We feel...sorrow, regret..."
Kenobi interrupted him, staring out to sea. "I feel hate. I hate Shevann."
He did too. The Jedi could sense the waves of hatred rolling across the night air, emanating from the boy. Some were directed at Qui-Gon, some seemed to flow back across the sea toward the raider's fortress, but the rest... Qui- Gon narrowed his eyes, reaching out with the Force...the rest were directed inward. Self-loathing was so thick around the boy that it seemed almost as if the Jedi could reach out and touch it.
"Well?" Kenobi was saying, "aren't you going to give me one of the standard Jedi lectures -- about hatred and fear, and how they lead to the Dark side?"
"Why should I tell you something you already know?" Qui-Gon asked mildly, easing his mental touch away from the well of darkness swirling around the boy with an inward shiver. "And besides," he continued, "it's not Shevann you hate. It's yourself."
Kenobi turned startled eyes on the Jedi. For a moment it looked as if he might argue, then his shoulders slumped and he looked down. "You're right," he said, his voice holding nothing but honesty and pain this time. "I do. I hate what I've become. But I hate Shevann and his pirates for doing this to me. And I hate the Jedi for allowing it to happen."
"Do you hate me?" Qui-Gon found himself tensing unconsciously against the boy's answer.
Kenobi glanced back up, meeting the older man's eyes. His hand on the tiller was shaking a little, Qui-Gon noticed absently. And his eyes -- it was difficult to see in the moonlight, but Kenobi's eyes -- they weren't icy anymore. A thousand emotions were swirling in those pale eyes, reflecting the starlight. But what those emotions were - Qui-Gon couldn't say.
"I should hate you," Kenobi said quietly. "You were my last hope to become a Jedi and you turned me away. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have been on that freighter I've spent years telling myself it was your fault...but..." His voice trailed off.
"But?" Qui-Gon prompted gently.
Kenobi sighed and turned away, staring out into the darkness. "I don't know," he said, his voice anguished. "I just don't know anymore. I don't even know why I'm doing this..." He reached up with an unsteady hand to wipe away the sweat that had beaded his brow, despite the coldness of the night.
"Are you all right?" A flicker of concern went through the Jedi.
Kenobi shook his head, still looking out to sea. "No," he said. "I haven't been all right for four years."
"You..."
Kenobi made a sharp gesture. "Look, I don't want to talk about this anymore. Just...shut up. All right?"
Qui-Gon hesitated, then leaned back. "All right," he said quietly.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as the small boat moved deeper into the night.