Chapter Text
Book I
The Fall of Obi-Wan Kenobi
Jedi are taught to accept death with grace, respect, and open arms. Because at the end of life, there is only the Force, so it really isn't dying. Not truly. This is a lesson that Qui-Gon likes to give whenever they find themselves in missions where the possible outcome between life and death is skewed more toward the latter. If Obi-Wan is being honest, after twelve years of being Qui-Gon's padawan, he has begun to tune out the repetitive lecture.
Yet for some reason, he thinks of it now. Obi-Wan bounces from foot to foot, clutching his lightsaber so tightly his knuckles are white. Accept the prospect of death with grace, respect, and open arms. After twelve years it's like he can hear Qui-Gon's voice echoing in his head as though he's standing right before him. At the end of life, there is only the Force, so it isn't really...
Obi-Wan's blood runs cold. He looks ahead where his master kneels in perfect meditation. When the ray shields rise in a wave that begins at the opposite end of Obi-Wan's position, Qui-Gon springs into action against the Sith that impatiently awaits the continuation of the duel.
Master no! He yells between their minds. Obi-Wan sprints when the ray shield finally rises. He runs as fast as the Force allows, but it isn't enough. He has to skid to a stop as it recycles before his eyes. The final barrier between him and the battle ensuing in the chamber.
Master of the Living Force, Qui-Gon Jinn fights with the placid demeanor of a man walking through a garden on a sunny day. He duels the Sith with his feelings, drawing his strength from his wholehearted trust in the Force. Obi-Wan can feel his signature, a shining beacon in the Force. A direct contrast to the pit of darkness emulating from the Sith. Their lightsabers clash in a blurry dance of green and red, and Obi-Wan can only watch helplessly. He can't stop the will of the Force.
Because the voice in his head was not a memory, but the real voice of his master projecting these sentiments through their bond. He knows as Obi-Wan now does. Qui-Gon, ever the educator, chooses this moment to give his final lesson.
And when the red saber of the Zabrak plunges into Qui-Gon's abdomen, the scream that vibrates along Obi-Wan's vocal cords somehow seems detached and far away. The Force wails with him, and he can feel their training bond begin to wilt. Qui-Gon crumbles, and the beady yellow eyes of the Sith shift to him in silent anticipation.
Though the crimson tint of the ray shield drops, Obi-Wan still sees red.
He doesn't really remember the fight. He remembers the clash of sabers. He remembers falling, a strain on his arms, and his heart pounding in his chest. Then he's flying. Then staring into the yellow eyes of the Sith as they widen, and then go dim. One moment the Zabrak is there, and the next he's vanished down a bottomless pit. Obi-Wan is frozen in the stance of his follow-through. Chest heaving and hands shaking, he deactivates his lightsaber, but still can't seem to break the position of the fatal cut. The numbness of his anger subsides-- followed by immediate guilt that he pushes deep down to be dealt with later-- and he runs to his fallen master.
The padawan skids along the floor to Qui-Gon's side, as though if he took any longer he would miss his last breath. Obi-Wan scoops him into his lap, laying a hand over the half-cauterized wound that goes all the way through his stomach. The flesh is still hot, still bleeding, but it's a slow leak. As slow as the wound of their bond that continues to crumble within his mind. Qui-Gon's signature is faded now, not a beacon, but a light about to burn out.
I can fix this! He says through their bond, trying to use it, strengthen it so it doesn't continue to whither within his mind. I can save you.
"It's-it's too late," Qui-Gon says aloud, his voice as calm as ever.
"No!" Obi-Wan shakes his head, brings his hand to touch the cheek of his master. His skin is cold to the touch.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says, already sounding weaker. "Promise... promise me you will train the boy."
His throat tightens. But he nods, gives the response that he has trained himself to always have on his tongue. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon's face relaxes. The creases of many years a Jedi Master suddenly smoothing out. He reaches up, brushing his fingertips against Obi-Wan's cheek, and he feels a chill go down his spine. His master's touch was once a feeling that brought warmth and validation, but now it is more like an electric shock.
"He... is the Chosen One. H-He... will... bring balance," Tears are streaming down Obi-Wan's face now. The light within his eyes dim just as they did in the Sith's. For some reason, he expected to see a difference in their demise. "Train him."
His final words, barely a whisper. A command. Obi-Wan clutches the limp body of Qui-Gon Jinn to his chest and realizes it is just that. The Force has left him completely, the essence of his master sucked from the room as though it were thrust into the vacuum of space. He sobs into the robes that smell of topsoil and jasmine tea, a smell that has become so familiar over the past twelve years.
Twelve years. Obi-Wan's tears feel hot running down his face. Twelve years and Qui-Gon's final words to him were about the boy he gambled for. The boy whose shoulders he squeezed as he presented him before the council and vowed to train him whether they complied with his outrageous request or not. And Obi-Wan did what Obi-Wan was trained to do-- support his master. Agree with him though it took everything to not burst into tears of outrage. Twelve years and he threw it away for a boy with obvious attachment issues and trauma that would immediately disqualify any other prospective Force-sensitive.
Obi-Wan is standing now, tears rolling off his chin and falling onto Qui-Gon's chest. A chest that will never rise and fall again. Footsteps approach, and he wipes the moisture away on the back of his sleeve. He doesn't know who runs into the room, but he can hear them skid to a sudden halt.
A hand on his shoulder. He doesn't react. Hushed whispers echo off the walls of the chamber, and maybe if he were willing to put an ounce of effort into listening, he would hear what they say. But he just stares blankly at the body until the hand on his shoulder turns into an arm wrapping around his midsection, and he is ushered away as Qui-Gon is flanked by others in beige robes and brown cloaks.
He feels the Force around him. It's static just like the rest of it. He can't feel light nor dark nor the signatures of the other Jedi that are around him.
Maybe I'm also dead. Maybe this is the place between life and death where the Living and Cosmic Force unite. Maybe the Force didn't fail him, and he didn't fail Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon didn't betray him in his final breath.
But he looks up and sees the wide brown eyes of the young Naboo queen. They flicker away when he meets her gaze, so he looks down at the boy she has her arm around instead.
Anakin Skywalker. The Force brought him to them. Somehow he is the one who will save them all. Bring balance to the Force, as Qui-Gon saw fit to mention with his final words. The nine-year-old looks up at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan looks away.