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 authors. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the authors.
Obi-Wan felt sick. He swallowed. His head hurt too. Barely making it to the bathroom, he leaned over the edge of the waste-recycler and was violently sick.
When he was finished, he rocked back on his heels and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Feel better?" The concerned voice belonged to his Master.
Obi-Wan nodded, blearily.
"Do you want to go to the clinic?"
He shook his head. He swallowed with effort. "I'll be okay."
Qui-Gon lay one broad, callused hand against Obi-Wan's forehead in a surprising gentle manner, considering how angry he was. He sighed.
"What did you have to drink, Obi-Wan?"
"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "It was pink."
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "If you're finished emptying the contents of your stomach, you may go back to bed."
"Master, please don't be mad. I can explain."
"Mad? Oh no, Padawan. We're way beyond mad."
Obi-Wan wanted to curl up and die. "Master, I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.
"Go to bed, Obi-Wan. Just go to bed."
The next morning, after having showered and changed, Obi-Wan stood before his Master. His knees trembled. He'd never been so scared - not even on some of the most harrowing missions.
Qui-Gon stared down at his young charge. Only after hours of meditation had the Jedi Master been able to get his warring emotions under control. As was the Jedi way, he began the admonishment by laying the boy's sins out in the open.
"Obi-Wan, you left here, left the Temple, in the middle of the night, without permission."
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered.
"Once out in the city, you went to a club - a nightclub."
"Yes, Master."
"Where you proceeded to use your Jedi powers to get you past the guards," Qui-Gon continued.
Obi-Wan thought for a second. B'Jara had been the one to do that part.
"Not exactly, Master."
"Oh?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't use my Jedi powers. B'Jara used hers."
"Padawan, we've been through this before. B'Jara was here all night."
Obi-Wan sighed. "No, Master. She was with me."
Qui-Gon held up a hand. "We'll discuss that part later. Where was I? Oh, yes, once you entered the club, you stayed for several hours and had an alcoholic drink."
"Yes, Master."
"Tell me again in case I missed it the first time - how old are you, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan flinched slightly. "Thirteen."
"And how old does a Human on Coruscant have to be to drink alcohol?"
"Eighteen."
"Very good, Padawan," Qui-Gon stepped back, regarding the melancholy boy.
Normally Obi-Wan was a quiet young man, and although he had his rebellious moments, Qui-Gon had never thought him capable of sneaking out to go to a bar - at least, not at thirteen. That was something he didn't think he'd have to face till Obi-Wan was in his late teens. And B'Jara. That was a conundrum. He was absolutely certain the cherubic Padawan had been sleeping in the room next to his own all night. Yet Obi-Wan was equally certain that she'd been out with him. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that. Qui-Gon could tell.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He put his hand to his forehead. He supposed it was some sort of ironic twist of fate that he had to have an Apprentice as impudent as he had been at that age. Qui-Gon knew if he mentioned the fiasco to Master Yoda that the aged Jedi would only huff that he was getting just what he deserved.
Obi-Wan stood staring at his boots. Qui-Gon was taking a long time. He ventured a look upwards. Qui-Gon's eyes were closed and he appeared to be meditating.
"Master?" He asked hesitantly.
Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. "Padawan, go sit in your quarters for now. Meditate on your actions. I, too, shall meditate on this and I will speak with you in a few hours."
"Master? My room? B'Jara's in there now."
Qui-Gon's eyes rolled heavenward. /What did I ever do?/
"Padawan, just go… somewhere." He waved his hand vaguely. Obi-Wan shuffled off. He wished he could just get this over with. The anticipation was killing him.
Several hours later, the Jedi Master emerged from his quarters. Obi-Wan was sitting on the floor in the living room, staring at the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. He suddenly looked very young.
"Obi-Wan, come here." Qui-Gon sat himself on the couch. "Sit down." Qui-Gon had managed to assuage the headache he'd had since the cabdriver had arrived at his door the night before, but it threatened to return at any moment.
Obi-Wan came over timidly, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the sofa.
"Relax, Obi-Wan. I'm not going to hurt you."
Obi-Wan nearly fainted from relief.
"But that does not mean you will not be punished, Padawan."
The young man's eyes opened wide. "Master?"
"Obi-Wan, you are confined to quarters for the rest of the century." He held up a hand as Obi-Wan started to protest. "Moreover, you will have no recreational time whatsoever. That includes any holo-vids and/or magazines that you have in your room. You will not be permitted to go anywhere without me or another Master. That includes class and meal times."
"But, Master-"
"I'm not finished, Padawan."
Obi-Wan winced. "Yes, sir."
"You are hereby assigned extra lessons and exercises. Any free time you have remaining will be spent scrubbing the infirmary on your hands and knees. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Master."
"And, since you have demonstrated a considerable lack of maturity, I think it advisable that you be left behind, should I be sent on a mission any time soon."
Obi-Wan's eyes flew wide open. "Master?" He nearly gasped.
"You heard me, Padawan."
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. He suddenly felt very dizzy. He thought he might faint. His hand gripped the edge of the couch, and he tried hard not to fall off.
"Obi-Wan, answer me one thing. Why?"
The look of disappointment on his Master's face was enough to make Obi-Wan feel a thousand times worse than any punishment Qui-Gon could cook up.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. All his Jedi training had taught him that honesty was always the best policy. "You may not believe me, Master, but I went with B'Jara because she told me to."
"B'Jara told you to? Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon began ominously.
"Master, please believe me. She did. I know you think she slept here last night, but you're wrong. She was out with me in the city." Obi-Wan nearly wailed with despair.
"Alright, Padawan, calm down." He turned to the hall. "B'Jara," he called. "Could you come out here, please?"
"Yes, Master Jinn?"
Qui-Gon motioned to a chair. "Sit down, B'Jara. The three of us need to have a little chat."