by Jude Watson
Sorrow flooded Qui-Gon. During his short time on Melida/Daan he had grown fond of the girl. He had understood why Obi-Wan had been drawn to her. This was a tragedy.
"Now each side blames the other for her death," Obi-Wan continued.
"Even Nield is ready for battle. Wehutti's forces have rearmed. My squad has been disbanded. I have no command, no way to convince the others to disarm."
Qui-Gon took an unconscious step toward the hologram. Obi-Wan's face was etched with grief and something else, something Qui-Gon had seen on the faces of those most stunned by an awful fate: incomprehension.
His former Padawan stood in miniature, hands dangling at his sides helplessly. "I don't know what to do," he confessed. "I am no longer a Jedi. Yet I know what a Jedi can do. And I know that only a Jedi can help. Qui-Gon, I realize I have done harm to us. But will you help me now?"
Qui-Gon's hand drifted to Obi-Wan's lightsaber, still tucked into his belt. He closed his fingers around the hilt. It seemed to hold some sort of charge, even though it was deactivated. Or was it the Force he felt, pulsing around him?
Obi-Wan's pale face shimmered before him, then disappeared. At that moment, he saw what Yoda and Tahl had been trying, in their different ways, to tell him. He had not been betrayed by a Jedi. He had been betrayed by a boy. A boy overtaken by passion and circumstance. The boy deserved his understanding. No, he had no secret way to see into a boy's heart.
Perhaps all he needed to do was listen.
"Send Obi-Wan a message," he told Yoda. "I am on my way."
When Yoda told him via hologram that Qui-Gon was coming, Obi-Wan was overwhelmed. Relief coursed through him, and he felt the first surge of happiness since Cerasi's death.
But immediately, the happiness was replaced by worry. Qui-Gon was coming out of obligation. Would working with a silent, disapproving Qui-Gon be worse than working alone?
Melida/Daan is what's important, Obi-Wan told himself firmly. I have to do what I can for the world Cerasi loved.
It would take days for Qui-Gon to arrive. In the meantime, Obi-Wan had to wait. With time on his hands, there was nothing to do. Thanks to Nield's bitterness, he had been exiled from the Young. Perhaps there were some who disagreed with Nield's tactics, but if so they did not join with Obi-Wan. No one would cross Nield.
Obi-Wan felt as though he were a ghost. He was not allowed to stay in the tunnels, so he slept where he could, or where he happened to find himself at night. Abandoned buildings, public squares, a park littered with the hulls of abandoned speeders. Life swirled around him, but he did not take part in it. Only his belief in Cerasi's cause kept him on the planet.
His only friend was Roenni. She often sought him out, bringing him food. She had given him a survival pack with a glow rod, and a medpac, and a warm, lightweight blanket for the cold nights. Obi-Wan was grateful to her for her loyalty, but concerned that if others saw them together, word would get back to Nield.
"He will be angry," he told her. They were sitting in a small park that had been the site of a battle in the last war. Grass struggled to grow amid the bare patches. Only one tree still flourished. The others were just stumps, their branches and trunks blown to bits.
Her warm brown eyes turned suddenly fierce. "I don't care. What he's doing is wrong. Nield is a good person. He'll realize it eventually. Until then, I'll protect you. The way you protected me."
"I don't know if Nield will ever come around," Obi-Wan said, remembering the hatred in his eyes.
"He's out of control because of his grief,” Roenni said quietly. "Only you can save the peace, Obi-Wan."
"I can't do anything," Obi-Wan said, defeated. "I can't influence Nield. He won't even talk to me."
"Is that why you called for your Jedi?" Roenni asked. "Can he help Melida/Daan?"
Obi-Wan nodded and touched his river stone. "If anyone can help, it is Qui-Gon Jinn."
He believed in his Master absolutely, even if Qui-Gon didn't believe in him.
At last the day of Qui-Gon's arrival came. Obi-Wan had been instructed to meet him directly outside the gates of the city. He felt a rush of pleasure as he saw Qui-Gon's tall, strong figure stride toward him. A smile of relief sprang to his face.
The smile slowly faded as he saw no answering expression. Of course there was no smile on his Master's face. His former Master's face. Obviously, the sight of his former Padawan filled the Jedi Knight with anguish.
Qui-Gon's expression smoothed and became neutral. He nodded at Obi-Wan.
No greeting. No inquiry into how he was. Fine. Obi-Wan could handle it. He had asked for help, not comfort. He nodded back his own greeting. The two began to walk together into the city.
Obi-Wan waited for Qui-Gon to speak. Why didn't he? If only they could talk about what had happened, if only Qui-Gon would give him a chance to explain.
He knew one thing now. He'd known it the instant he'd seen Qui-Gon. He wanted to be a Jedi again. Not only a Jedi, but the Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn. He wanted everything he'd thrown away. He wanted his life back.
He didn't belong on Melida/Daan. He had been swept away by a cause. A just cause, a good cause, it was true. But there were other just causes in the galaxy, and he wanted to fight for those, too. It turned out that Cerasi was right. He wanted a wider life than the one he'd chosen on Melida/Daan.
He had found his true path again. That was good. Still, despair filled Obi-Wan. All he had to do was look at Qui-Gon to know that the Jedi would never take him back.
Qui-Gon had expected the awkwardness. He hadn't expected the pain.
The sight of Obi-Wan's young, hopeful face caused him to feel angry all over again. Qui-Gon struggled against the feeling. He knew he was being harsh.
He couldn't speak. He didn't want Obi-Wan to hear anger in his voice. His first words needed to be calm.
So instead he merely nodded his greeting. He saw that his coolness had hurt the boy. And Obi-Wan had suffered so much hurt already. Slowly, as they walked, Qui-Gon's anger trickled away and compassion took its place.
"I was very grieved to hear your news about Cerasi," he said quietly. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Obi-Wan."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said in a constricted voice.
"There are many things to talk about," Qui-Gon continued. "But I think such things would be a distraction right now. Any problems we have with each other mean nothing in the face of a planet close to war. We should focus on the problems here."
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "I agree."
"What is the latest news on Nield and Wehutti?"
"Nield is massing his forces. He has the support of Mawat and the Scavenger Young now. He is trying to get the Middle Generation to be allies again. There is a rumor that a battle will start very soon at the site where Cerasi was killed. I know that Wehutti's followers are also arming themselves. Wehutti himself is in seclusion."
Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully. "Is Wehutti directing his followers, or are they acting on their own?"
"I don't think Wehutti is even in contact with them," Obi-Wan said. "He'll see no one."
"He will see us," Qui-Gon said firmly.
Wehutti's door was locked and bolted. Qui-Gon knocked loudly. There was no answer.
"We know he doesn't want visitors," Qui-Gon said. He withdrew his lightsaber from his belt. "But I don't think we need an invitation."
Qui-Gon activated the lightsaber and used it to cut through the lock. He pushed open the door easily.
The hallway was empty, as were both rooms in the front of the house. Cautiously, they moved up the stairs. They checked one room after another until they found Wehutti in a small back bedroom.
Food trays littered the floor. Thick blankets hung over the windows, cutting out all light. Wehutti sat in a chair pulled up to a window, even though he could not see out of it. He did not turn as they walked into the room.
Qui-Gon walked into Wehutti's field of vision and crouched down in front of him.
"Wehutti, we need to speak with you," he said.
Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan. Wehutti was reliving the day of Cerasi's death.
"There were more of the Young than we'd thought," Wehutti continued. "We didn't think we'd actually have to use our weapons. We didn't think they'd be armed. And I didn't think that my daughter, my Cerasi, would be there. She didn't carry a weapon, did you know that?"
"Yes," Qui-Gon said.
"I had seen her a short time before. She'd come to see me. You didn't know that."
"No, I didn't," Qui-Gon said gently.
"We talked. She wanted me to stop fighting the Young. I argued. It wasn't a good visit. But then ... she suggested that we not talk about things as they are, but things as they were. Her childhood. We had a few good years, before the war began again. And I remembered it all suddenly. I hadn't thought about it in so long."
Tears began to fall down Wehutti's cheeks.
"I remembered her mother. I remembered my son. Cerasi was our youngest. She was afraid of the dark. I used to stay in the room until she fell asleep. I sat by her sleep-couch and kept one hand on it so she would know I was there. She would touch my hand from time to time as she fell asleep. I'd watch her," Wehutti whispered. "She was so beautiful."
Suddenly, he bent over in the chair, his forehead hitting his knees.
Great sobs came from his body. "There was so much confusion," he said in a choked voice. "I didn't see her at first. I was looking at Nield. My wife is buried in that Hall. Her ashes lie there. I couldn't let them do it."
"Wehutti, it's all right," Qui-Gon said. "You did what you had to. So did Cerasi."
Wehutti raised his head. "So you say. So you all say," he repeated tonelessly.
"And now your supporters are mobilizing to fight another war," Qui-Gon said. "Only you can stop them. Can you do that, for Cerasi's sake?"
Wehutti turned to Qui-Gon. There was no expression in his eyes, and his face seemed bleached of all color. It glistened with the marks of his tears. "And how will that help Cerasi? I don't care about war or battles. I can't stop anything from happening, that's clear. I have no hatred anymore. I have nothing."
"But Cerasi would want you to help," Obi-Wan said.
Wehutti turned toward the window that had no view. "There was so much confusion," he said numbly. "I was ready to shoot. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I killed her. Perhaps I did not. I will never know."
Obi-Wan felt a sense of hopelessness move through him as they left Wehutti's house. If Wehutti wouldn't interfere, war seemed inevitable.
Qui-Gon walked thoughtfully by his side. Obi-Wan had no idea what he was thinking. But that wasn't unusual. Even when they were Master and Padawan, Qui-Gon often kept his thoughts to himself.
They turned a corner and almost ran into Nield. Startled, Nield quickly skirted them. He did not look at Obi-Wan so much as look through him, as though he were invisible.
Obi-Wan's step faltered. He still wasn't used to the impact of Nield's hatred.
"You said that Nield accused you of being an outsider," Qui-Gon remarked. "Was this just because you opposed his decision to demolish the Halls?"
"That's when it started," Obi-Wan said. "He was angry at Cerasi, too. But things are worse now."
"Since Cerasi's death?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "He ... he said that her death was my fault. That I should have been watching out for her instead of trying to save the Hall. He said that because of me, she rushed to the scene that day."
Qui-Gon looked at him thoughtfully. "And what do you think?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan whispered.
"Nield has accused you of what he fears he himself did," Qui-Gon said. "If he hadn't been so adamant about the Halls, Cerasi would still be alive. He's also afraid that he killed Cerasi, just as Wehutti is. They are both afraid they fired the fatal shot."
Obi-Wan nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He couldn't think of that day without being swamped by feelings of guilt and loss.
Qui-Gon stopped. "Cerasi's death was not your fault, Obi-Wan. You cannot prevent what you cannot see coming. You can only do what you think is right at each moment as you live it. We can plan, hope, and dread the future. What we cannot do is know it."
You can only do what you think is right at each moment as you live it. Was Qui-Gon also talking about Obi-Wan's decision to stay? Hope rose in Obi-Wan. Had he forgiven him?
Qui-Gon began to walk again. "Here we have two grieving people who are secretly afraid they've killed the person they loved most in the world. Perhaps the key to peace is as simple as the answer to a question: Who killed Cerasi? Sometimes whole wars can turn on one tragic loss."
Qui-Gon had not been talking about Obi-Wan's decision. His mind was fixed on the problem at hand. As it should be. He was treating Obi-Wan with compassion, but it was compassion with distance. He hadn't forgiven Obi-Wan.
"But how can we discover who actually fired the shot?" he asked. "Wehutti is right. It was very confusing. Nield and Wehutti were both poised to shoot."
They stopped. Obi-Wan saw with surprise that Qui-Gon had brought him to the plaza where Cerasi was shot.
"Now, Obi-Wan. Tell me what you saw that day," Qui-Gon instructed.
"Nield and his forces were here," Obi-Wan said, pointing. "Wehutti, there. I stood here. Their weapons were raised and they were trading threats. Cerasi came up through the fountain grate. I saw her ..."
Obi-Wan's throat closed. He cleared it and went on. "I couldn't believe she was there. She began to run, and I ran, and I heard the blaster fire ...I didn't know where it came from, so I kept on running. I was so afraid, but I couldn't move fast enough, and she fell down. It was so cold and gray. She was shivering--"
"Wait," Qui-Gon barked brusquely. "Stop telling me the story like a grieving friend." He softened his tone. "I know it is hard, Obi-Wan. But I can learn nothing if your emotions color what you say. You must remember without guilt and sorrow. Tell me as a Jedi would. Keep your feelings in your heart. Tell me what your mind saw. Now. Close your eyes."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. It took him a few moments to compose himself. He searched for a clear space to let the memory come. He calmed his mind and slowed his breathing.
"I heard the scrape of the grate before I saw her. I was already turning to the left. She saw everything in one glance. She lifted herself out. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she started to run. She jumped over the wall of the fountain. I turned back to the right for just an instant. Nield was surprised. I saw Wehutti out of the corner of my eye. He ..."
Obi-Wan stopped, shocked at the clarity of his memory. "He lowered his blaster," he said with surprise. "He didn't shoot Cerasi."
"Go on," Qui-Gon said.
"I ran, and I lost sight of Nield. I was facing Cerasi, trying to get to her. I saw the sunlight glint on the roof of the building across the square. I remember hoping the reflection wouldn't get in my eyes. I needed to see everything. I heard blaster fire. That's when she fell."
"Open your eyes, Obi-Wan. I have a question for you."
Obediently, Obi-Wan opened his eyes.
"Didn't you say that the day was gray? Overcast?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
"Then how could sunlight glint on a roof?"
Qui-Gon put his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders and spun him around. "Look. Up there. Could you have seen someone on the roof? Could that glint you saw have been the fire from the barrel of a blaster rifle?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said excitedly. "It could have been."
"And I have another question for you," Qui-Gon continued. "You say the Elders had weapons that day. But that was before they imported them from the countryside. Where did they get them? If you had confiscated all the weapons and kept them in your warehouse, how did the Elders manage to rearm?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "I assumed they smuggled them in from the country."
Qui-Gon gave a wintry smile. "You as
sumed? That does not sound like a Jedi."
Obi-Wan tried not to show how crestfallen he felt. Qui-Gon was right. He had been sunk in his own misery. He had lost the discipline of mind that was the goal of every Jedi. Qui-Gon saw that. And now his former Master had even less confidence in him than before.
To track how the Elders had been armed, Qui-Gon decided to start at the obvious place: the warehouse where the Security Squad had stored the confiscated weapons. Nield must have raided it. But could the Elders have stolen from it as well?
The walk to the warehouse was conducted in silence. There was so much silence between them now, Qui-Gon realized. And it was not the easy silence of companions. He saw the emotions that Obi-Wan struggled to hide. Chief among them was hope that Qui-Gon had forgiven him.
Of course Qui-Gon had forgiven him. He was not sure when it had happened - when he heard Obi-Wan's voice as he reported Cerasi's death, or when his former Padawan had greeted him at the gate with so much hope in his face. Perhaps it had been gradual, but it was there, in his heart, and he knew it.
Qui-Gon did not think of himself as a hard man. Obi-Wan had made an impulsive choice in the heat of a charged moment. It was a choice that he had come to regret. That was part of growing up. Forgiveness was not the point. Qui-Gon had already passed to the next step. Would he take Obi-Wan back if he asked? He did not think so.
But that feeling could change, Qui-Gon told himself, struggling to be honest. It had before. So it was better to wait, to say nothing. Obi-Wan must deal with the consequences of his decision. One of them was uncertainty.
The warehouse was deserted, bolted on the outside with a strong lock. Qui-Gon sliced through it with his lightsaber and pushed open the door. A boy and a girl were sitting on the floor of the empty space, talking. They looked up, startled, when Qui-Gon strode in. He recognized the girl as Deila, one of the Young, but did not recognize the stout, round-faced boy.
Deila scrambled to her feet when she saw Obi-Wan. Then she appeared confused. Since Obi-Wan was no longer her leader, she seemed to be thinking, was it right to show him respect? Quickly, she sat down on the guard's chair. The boy made a halfhearted attempt to rise, but Deila shot him a glance and he quickly sat down again.
