Author: Sam

Story: Bounty Hunt: 1 of ?

Series: n/a

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, unnamed youngling

Rating: M: Violence, Sexual innuendoes (it may not actually need this high rating, but I like to be cautious.)

Summary: A bounty hunter’s fate comes full circle when pushed along by a pair of rebels.

Spoiler: The six movies and their correlating books, as well as the Han Solo Trilogy. Other than that, anything else mentioned is mere speculation or happenstance, as I am unfamiliar with other books, etc. from the entire franchise… so, Merrianna, and everyone else, Mara Jade (tm), et al, are not in this story. Sorry if that disappoints.

Category: Sci-Fi, Drama, Romance

Setting: The Jedi Temple; shortly after the time Obi-Wan becomes a padawan, between missions.

Disclaimer: Star Wars, Return of the Jedi, etc. are trademarks of George Lucas, LucasFilm.Ltd., and 20th Century Fox. The Han Solo Trilogy is a trademark of A.C. Crispin and the entire Star Wars (tm) franchise. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story George Lucas would have written, had he had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Note: Please don’t be disappointed that my two starting characters are not major characters in the story. Actually, Luke and Han are more prominent than Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. I merely use them as a starting point. Technically, this is an after-the-Clone-Wars story.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

It was quiet, dark, and peaceful. Even the sound of the younglings training in the next room was muffled into a restful hum. The small cushion-lined alcove was intentionally constructed to induce a meditative state and so far had served its purpose well. The master and padawan learner ensconced on the round cushions had found it thus.

Until now.

The padawan, a boy no older than fifteen, shifted restlessly on his seat. The more he tried to clear his thoughts, as he had so long ago been taught, the more agitated his feelings became. He tried to be mindful of his lessons, of the here and now, yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to block the troubling images, the intense… fear? He had spent his entire childhood in the safe haven of the Jedi Temple. True, he had felt his share of fear, anger, and desire, but, like all Jedi younglings, he had been taught to go beyond those negative feelings, to go beyond the passion, and find a calm center, though this had been a difficult lesson to learn. So why could he not clear his feelings now when he sat in such peaceful surroundings, far from the havoc of missions and assignments?

A soft voice, that of his master, broke gently through the disquiet. “What troubles you, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eyes shot open to gaze steadily, if uneasily, on his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He immediately noticed the calm air about the man, the closed eyes and serene expression on the kind, strong features. The teenager wondered, and just as quickly dispelled the curious thought, if he would remain as easily calm when he passed his fiftieth year. With a sigh, the boy brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I cannot calm my thoughts, Master. I feel…” he searched his feelings, wondering at the unexpected sensations. He tasted and rejected many emotions, many states of being, until, uneasily, he finally settled on one, though that one made no sense to the boy. “I feel danger, Master.”

Unlike many mentors, Qui-Gon Jinn was not the type to blatantly dismiss his apprentice’s concerns. True, he often down-played them and brought sense back to a troubled adolescent boy, but he never ignored or degraded those worries. To neglect the developing lad’s confusions and passions would be to push him down a dark path of solitude and distrust. If Obi-Wan was troubled by something, it had to be carefully handled, brought out in the open and dealt with. Only then could it be put properly into perspective and cease to trouble the developing young Jedi.

“Where is this danger, Obi-Wan?”

The answer was swift and sure. “Here, Master.” Then, Obi-Wan’s manner grew uncertain, hesitant, as he rethought the sensations that had disturbed the morning’s meditation. “But it isn’t here.” He turned blue-grey eyes upon the calm, strong features of the man who had taken him for further training when no one else had thought him capable of the control he now so desperately sought, the man who had been his sole confidant for almost two years. “The feeling fades and strengthens, Master… like an eddying tide.” Obi-wan watched Qui-Gon’s eyes slowly open.

Long minutes silently ticked by as man and boy looked at each other. Qui-Gon was unmoving, as serene as ever, while Obi-Wan tried his best to imitate his master and clear his troubles as he waited for a response. Finally, when it seemed the man might never reply, his gentle voice washed over the lad and Obi-Wan felt a relief in the mere acknowledgement that something real, rather than imagined, could be disturbing him. “Tell me what you see, my young padawan.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let the danger, the fear wash over him, knowing his master would keep him safe, would protect him from straying too far down the emotional abyss which threatened. The feelings suddenly, unexpectedly blossomed into pictures and sound. He gasped, and was barely aware that Qui-Gon’s hand moved to gently cover his own. The sensations ebbed slightly, becoming more bearable as Obi-Wan let his master’s calm lead him back to a feeling of security even as he allowed the vision to unfold.

“In the Temple medical unit, in one of the beds, is a youngling. She’s not yet a padawan, but will be soon; I can feel it. She’s been injured by another youngling, a lightsaber burn across her foot. She nearly lost her foot, but they saved it. She’s resting, waiting to be cleared to leave. Now she sits up. I hear blaster fire; blaster fire in the Temple, Master?”

Troubled eyes opened, the vision interrupted for the moment, perhaps lost forever. Qui-Gon merely nodded at his padawan, and Obi-Wan frowned slightly, knowing he would get no answers until he finished telling about the disturbing vision. He let his eyes close again, taking a deep, steadying breath as he once more felt the troubling sensations wash over him.

“The youngling feels the danger and gets out of the bunk. She limps to the small table nearby and picks up a supply sack, looking inside. I think it has medical supplies in it. Now she’s turning around, grabbing a pile of clothes and pushing them into the sack. There’s a youngling’s training lightsaber on the pile and she fastens the holster around her waist. She’s wearing a patient’s jump-suit. The sounds of blaster fire are getting louder; I think it’s in the corridor right outside the medical unit.”

Unconsciously, Obi-Wan’s hand turned under Qui-Gon’s and clasped roughly, painfully over the man’s hand. The teenager’s breathing was increasing with each moment, his voice rising in fear. This was more than a boy’s adventurous dream or wandering fancy. This vision was severely threatening the boy’s very core; Obi-Wan was in danger of losing himself to the overwhelming sensations… and possibly, quite by happenstance, to the passions of the dark side. The boy seemed unaware that he wasn’t even speaking aloud anymore. He merely let the vision speak for him.

And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, Qui-Gon was with Obi-Wan. The fear, the confusion, the absolute surety of life-threatening danger was nearly overwhelming. Together, padawan and master watched and listened as the vision enfolded them.

They watched as the small, dark-haired youngling hobbled as quickly as possible to the medical waste chute. Glancing once over her shoulder, sending a jolt of shock through Obi-Wan with the belief that she had seen him, the girl pulled herself over the lip of the chute and let herself fall down, down uncountable levels until she reached some unknown depth, lost amid the medical waste of the Jedi Temple’s incinerator.

The sound of a door, stressed beyond endurance and screaming its demise in a shrieking, rending sound of twisting, melting metal, exploded behind them, and the pair whirled around instinctively.

The vision faded, however, leaving both panting and blinking in confusion. Once more in the dark, peaceful meditation alcove, boy and man alike had to shakily bring themselves slowly, carefully, back under control. It was easier for the master than the student, but somehow the sharing seemed to have helped as much as Qui-Gon had thought, and Obi-Wan found himself gaining a sense of calm he had been unable to achieve since that morning’s meditation had begun.

At last, the calm, reassuring voice of the Jedi Master broke the growing silence. “It is a possible future you see.”

“Future? But, who would attack the Temple, Master?” Obi-Wan’s calm wanted to evaporate, and it was a struggle for the boy to hold onto the peace he had so recently acquired.

“It is only one possible future, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon’s voice remained quiet, calm, “and not one you need concern yourself with at the present. I…”

“Not worry?” Obi-Wan cut his master off, losing the battle for control. He was, after all, an excitable adolescent with the sudden knowledge of a terrible crime to unfold in his own home. The boy started pacing, running a shaking hand over his face then whirling towards his mentor.

Qui-Gon, too, rose to his feet, but at a slower, more self-assured pace. He raised a hand benevolently. “Calm yourself, my excitable young padawan. If you were to panic over every vision…”

“Panic?” Obi-Wan’s voice was incredulous and hurt. He shook his head, padawan’s plait swinging with the forceful movement. “But, Master, it’s the Temple! Someone is going to attack the temple and you want me to ignore it?”

Qui-Gon’s voice became sharp, not with anger but with the need to make his apprentice listen. “Obi-Wan, enough! If you calm yourself, you will be able to think clearly.” He lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Think about the vision, Obi-Wan, the youngling you saw. She is not a youngling in the Temple right now. She was perhaps ten I would say. If she arrived tomorrow, that would give us ten years to set in place procedures to protect the Temple.”

The padawan began to relax, seeing the wisdom in his master’s words, the direction the conversation was going. He finished the thought for Qui-Gon, displaying his understanding of the situation. “Panic will not get the Temple protected. It will cloud my judgment and cause me to perhaps make the very mistakes which endanger it in the vision.” He looked up into the eyes of his master. “If she hasn’t arrived, we have at least ten years. We can warn the council…”

“And they will concern themselves with the future, my young padawan. If you go to them in an emotional state, you will be rebuffed and this possible future will be ignored.” Qui-Gon removed his hand, sensing the calmness his apprentice was instilling in himself.

Finally, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi padawan, nodded. “I am ready to tell the council, Master.”

With a bow of his head, Qui-Gon Jinn led the boy from the meditation alcove, content that his lesson had been learned, despite the unusual outcome of what begun merely as a calming meditation exercise.