‘It won’t happen again.’ That’s all Master Jinn says to the Council at the end of the meeting. ‘It won’t happen again.’
Obi-Wan is still in the Healing Halls. Obi-Wan couldn’t even attend the assessment of his own relationship with his Master because he’s still in the Healing Halls. Quinlan attends, though. Quinlan hovers behind Master Tholme’s shoulder, listening. His Master is there as a witness, both to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s characters and to the round of Mind Healing Master Jinn agrees to at the close of the hearing.
‘It won’t happen again.’
What’s Obi-Wan supposed to do with that? It shouldn’t have happened at all. There should be consequences.
“Peace, Padawan,” Tholme says, placing a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder as they walk back to the Halls. “Acknowledge and feel your emotions, but release them into the Force when you are done.”
“Yes, Master,” Quinlan murmurs, leaning into the warm comfort of his Master’s signature. He wants to hide. How can things like this happen?
Quinlan had spent months thinking Obi-Wan was dead. He’d mourned his friend, prayed for him to find peace in the Force, cried and raged and attended entirely too many grief processing therapy sessions for three months’ time. And at the end of it all, to have it revealed that Obi-Wan was alive, that he was waiting for their help and all Quinlan had done was cry…
When he’d felt Obi-Wan’s presence on the ship, he’d gone running to the docking bay. He’d held Obi-Wan in his arms, held him up as he trembled and held him away from Qui-Gon, who hovered as though it wasn’t his fault in the first place.
Obi-Wan had collapsed in his arms, finally giving in to the exhaustion and malnourishment and injuries and emotions, and Quinlan had been so scared he thought he might never breathe again. The Healers had carried Obi-Wan away with reassurances that he just needed time, that he’d be okay. Quinlan had buried his face in his Master’s robes like he hadn’t since he was a child, since his parents’ death. He had felt so much it was like nothing at all, like he’d found the limit of what his brain could process and it simply refused to do any more.
When they reach Obi-Wan’s room, he’s still asleep. Quinlan drags a chair close to his bed, crashing into it and wrapping one of Obi-Wan’s cold hands in his own.
“Be gentle, Quinlan,” Tholme chides. “He needs his rest.”
“I know, Master.” Quinlan can’t bear to take his eyes off of Obi-Wan for another moment, so he doesn’t, just tips his head into Tholme’s hand when he places it there, lingering for a moment in farewell. “I’ll see you at latemeal?”
“If you would be so kind,” Tholme says. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while.”
“Thank you.” Quinlan waits for his Master to close the door before bringing Obi-Wan’s hand up to his face, cradling it close and collapsing around it. Fresh tears mingle with the dry ones on his cheeks, filling his mouth and nose with salt. He can feel the little bones in Obi-Wan’s wrist in a way he shouldn’t be able to and it makes him angry.
The hand in his twitches, then wraps loosely around his thumb. Quinlan jerks his head up. “Obi-Wan?”
Dull blue eyes set deep in bruises slide open, taking just a moment too long to focus on him. “Quin,” he murmurs.
Quinlan squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand and gets a soft squeeze in response, as well as the beginnings of a smile. “Hi, dork. You scared me.”
“Sorry…”
Quinlan smiles back. “Don’t be. Gotta happen sometimes, right?”
Obi-Wan’s smile grows minutely, then falls again. “Where’s… Where’s Master Jinn?” Quinlan bristles and Obi-Wan cringes. “Sorry, sorry, I just. I don’t know.”
“No, no, no,” Quinlan backtracks, “it’s okay. It’s fine. Master Jinn is fine. He’s just…”
“Quinlan?”
Quinlan hesitates, trying to find the most tactful way to explain the horrors of the Council meeting to Obi-Wan. He knows better than most that Obi-Wan will defend Qui-Gon to his dying breath, but he also knows better than most how little the man deserves it. “He’s… There was a Council meeting about an hour ago. They declared Master Jinn to be fit to continue teaching you, but I don’t think Healer Che wants him around you right now.”
Obi-Wan’s brow wrinkles and he tries to sit up. “Why? I don’t, I don’t, why wouldn’t he be fit to teach me?”
Quinlan pulls his hand closer again, tracing the ragged edge of one of Obi-Wan’s fingernails as he fights down the anger. No, not down, out. Acknowledge it and let it go. He starts again. “Obi, he left you in a war zone. That was- that was terrible. He shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was my fault-”
“It wasn’t! It wasn’t, and he should lose custody of you,” Quinlan cries. “He. He. You could have died, Obi-Wan. No one deserves that. Certainly not you.” He squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand again as he says it, but this time, there’s no returning squeeze. Obi-Wan’s gaze drifts away, refocusing on some unknown point on the far wall. “Please believe me,” Quinlan begs.
Obi-Wan’s crying as well now. He sniffs and wipes his eyes before saying, “I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t leave them alone. They needed me. No one else would help.”
“I know. Force, I know, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan reaches up and Quinlan reaches down and they meet in the middle, embracing for the second time that day. It’s not enough to make up for three months of contact lost, but it’s a start. Quinlan can work with that.
Later, Tholme wanders down to the Healing Halls in search of his tardy Padawan. It’s not like Quinlan to miss meals, but it’s not unlike Quinlan to be late, so one never truly knows where he might be and when. Tholme reaches Obi-Wan’s room and finds the lights have been turned down to their dimmest setting.
“Quinlan, it’s time for- oh.”
Obi-Wan is asleep, but he’s not alone. He’s moved to one side of the hospital bed to make room for Quinlan, who’s climbed in with him and followed him into slumber. The covers are drawn over them and Quinlan’s head rests on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Tholme smiles.
“Sleep well, Padawans.”