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The Master and his Padawan stood side by side waiting for the red tented ray-shield to dissipate into nothingness. Once it did, they would launch a combined attack on the Sith Lord waiting just one barrier away from them. They were the strongest Master-Padawan team the temple had to offer and they would face this challenge together.
Obi-wan bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation, while Qui-gon clasped his hands in front of him in a meditative pose, eyes shut and head bowed. One barrier over, the Dathomirian Sith Lord paced back and forth, his golden eyes radiating a savage hunger.
After a breath, the gate faded and they sprang into action. Obi-wan covered the left and Qui-gon, the right. Their strikes forceful and meaningful, no effort was waisted.
The Sith danced around their strikes with his double-bladed 'saber, his black robes falling in step with him, the strange weapon was an unfamiliar opponent to the two Jedi. In an instant of hesitance, the Sith took advantage of the Jedi Masters' open guard and smashed the grip of his lightsaber into his face, momentarily disorientating him to assure his kill.
Obi-wan's reaction time was faster, interspersing the assuredly fatal jab with Force-enhanced speed. Qui-gon lost his footing and stumbled backwards. The Padawan took on the brunt of the assault as his Master reoriented himself.
The Sith Lord sneered at the younger man, clearly underestimating him. Obi-wan took a more defensive stance as his opponents strikes became more forceful. Despite the circumstances, an opening presented itself too the younger man. He sliced through the grip of his opponent's 'saber and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him down to the floor.
When the Sith righted himself, he gave Obi-wan a fierce snarl and outstretched his hand. At this, Obi-wan's brows furrowed in confusion, then in intense pain. In turn, the bond he shared with his Master lit up in white-hot agony.
Qui-gon, who had been kneeling on the sidelines to clear the dizziness from his head, knew he would be of no use to his Padawan in this state. But at the pain radiating from his Padawans' training bond, he jolted his head up to see what was causing it, fearing the worst.
What he saw was far worse. His Padawan was clawing at his scalp, lightsaber disengaged and discarded on the metal floor, and the Sith, arm outstretched and face set in intense concentration.
Obi-wan was under attack by an intense Force suggestion.
And he was loosing.
Qui-gon wasted no more time getting to his feet, lightsaber engaged and in hand. He rushed to his Padawan on the other side of the hollow room, their bond muddled by the pain and the severity of the suggestion.
The Sith opened his eyes and raised his other hand, sending Qui-gon flying in its rage-filled wake.
At that, Obi-wan let out a raw, painful cry, one he'd been struggling to hold in, "MASTER", was all he could strangle out before his body went limp where he stood, all fight having been drained from his demeanor. Slowly, he bent down to pick up his 'saber, engaging it with a once comforting snap-hiss.
What in the Sith hells has this monster done to my Padawan, Qui-gon thought, horrified, his face pinched in intense worry.
The Sith, appeased with his work, lowered his hands. The hostile smirk reappeared on his face. Obi-wan turned then to face his Masters' direction, but looked past him as if he wasn't there.
As far back as Qui-gon could remember, Obi-wan always had an intensity and fierce devotion about him, whether it was for a cause he believed in or for those he cared about. Now, he was just blank. In the flesh and the in the Force.
Wrong wrong wrong worngwrongwrong, the Force screamed.
Obi-wan stood in place, shoulders ridged in preparation to attack. The Sith stalked up beside him, placing a marked hand atop his head. The sight made Qui-gon's stomach roll.
They made the first move. Red and blue clashing with green.
It was a scene of nightmares come to life.
Trying desperately to hold his ground against a Sith Lord whilst not harming his Padawan was taxing on the Masters stamina, but it had to be done. The Sith had to be killed for Obi-wan to be free. Qui-gon would accept nothing less.
The barge of attacks grew in intensity, until suddenly, the Sith backed out of the battle, leaving Obi-wan to fight his Master against his will. Every attack was parried by Qui-gon. He knew his Padawan's attack patterns like the back of his hand.
He just needed to disorient the boy. Getting him out of this fight was the best option he had to keep him safe for the time being. Looking into his glazed over blue-grey eyes face to face like this was... unbearable.
The Sith was commanding Obi-wan's body to contort in unnatural, gangly angles, forcing him to speed up his attacks to overwhelm the Master. Sweat gleamed from his skin but his face reminded emotionless. His Force presence remained unreadable.
It dawned upon Qui-gon that the Sith Lord was trying to tear his students body apart. He had already defiled and controlled his mind, and now his body was at risk of physical destruction.
What can I do to stop this.
Obi-wan parried his Masters' last block and flowed into an uncharacteristic Djem So technique, his 'saber cascading above his head. Blue collided with green, white sparks flying from the collision. Qui-gon's expression was set in a grimace, his teeth barred like a wild Nexu. The younger man refused to lessen his contact, their 'sabers close proximity was searing their skin.
He looked his Padawan deep in the eyes, trying to latch onto any sort of bond or spark of life. Only blank eyes stared back.
Those same blank eyes suddenly opened wide in fear and his lips parted slightly to get out a gasp of air.
A red-bladed lightsaber pierced through the young mans abdomen from behind.
Qui-gon wanted to scream, to yell out Obi-wan’s name, but he had run out of air watching the face of his young student contort in agony and confusion.
Obi-wan's fingers slacked, dropping his lightsaber to the floor with an unceremonious thud that echoed through the room.
The Sith disengaged his 'saber and the young man fell forward, his Master catching his limp body against his chest. He wrapped his free arm protectively around his boy as if nothing could harm him in his grasp. With shaking hands and a shaken resolve, he gingerly sat the boy down beside him.
It took all he had to stand back up and face his enemy. It was indicative he kill the Sith before tending to Obi-wan, so he gripped his 'saber with two hands, falling into ready position.
The two continued the fight like wild animals.
Blows faster than the eye could see cut through the air of the circular room, gaining speed and accuracy with each hit. During a second long gap in the battle, Qui-gon lifted his hand in a state of pure rage, clawing his grip to better invasion the Sith's throat in his grasp.
The man in dark robes started involuntarily reaching for his neck. The Master violently yanked his arm toward his body.
He impaled himself on the Masters awaiting outstretched blade.
Looking into the Jedi's eyes with his sickly golden ones, he saw no remorse in them, satisfaction radiating from the mans Force signature.
The last thing the Sith Lord remembered was the Force throwing him over to the precipice of an abyss and the wind whistling in his ears at the fall.
Qui-gon quickly ran to his Padawan's side, falling harshly to his knees. He gently picked up his boy from the cold floor to cradle in his arms once more. He looked up at his Master with drowsy, half-lidded eyes, reaching his hand up to brush his looming face, but faltered half way. Qui-gon caught his cold hand and held it close to his chest.
"Padawan, I-I'm so sorry," he whispered, swallowing harshly over his voice stuck in his throat.
In this moment, Qui-gon remembered all the ways he'd wronged his Padawan, the most recent probably being the worst he could ever do. He knew the boy had self-esteem issues, had for years, and how he needed a sense of purpose. Yet he openly, in front of the Jedi Counsel, no less, discarded him without a second thought, only rushing ahead and thinking of his own plans. The irony was tangible.
Foolish man.
Obi-wan opened his mouth, his lips forming stuttering words but without the noise to accompany them. Leaning in closer to hear the faint whispers, Qui-gon shook with the realization of what he was saying,
"i love you."
With his ear so close to the boys lips, Qui-gon heard the last exhale of breath Obi-wan Kenobi would ever take. His body went completely slack in his arms. Qui-gon cradled him closer, resting their heads together.
He let out a silent cry at first, followed by painful tears that streamed down his face to settle on the younger mans serene one. Then a wail so ragged, filled with so much lament, echoed around the room.
The Force shuddering around the Master and the fallen Jedi.
He wanted Obi-wan to go out on his own, yes, but not like this, this was wrong. He was supposed to be close by, helping the new member of the linage settle in and learn; for a man so young he had so much knowledge to offer already. He was supposed to be moving into his new Knight's quarters, coming over to visit his old Master after a particularly extended mission where they would set at the dilapidated couch and drink tea to talk it over. He was supposed to outlive his Master, who would have hopefully retired long before to focus on his garden. He would have been on the Council, Qui-gon had no doubts in that regard, and he would have been the most fair and open minded of the lot.
But that future was gone. His Padawan was dead, and Qui-gon Jinn would blame himself for it every waking day. He would never take on another student, claiming that he was cursed by the Force to outlive his pupils.
After the whole ordeal was over, he sent Anakin to train under Plo Koon, a kind Master and good friend who he knew would offer the boy a better life than anything he could even hope to give him.
-
At the funeral pyre, Qui-gon stood alone, watching the flame consume his boy. He stood long after everyone had dissipated and long after the embers fizzled out into cold ash. It was suggested he cut the boys braid in tribute to his honorary promotion to Knighthood, but the thought of it made bile climb into his throat. Not at the idea of Obi-wan becoming what he had always dreamed of, but at his own failure to protect him until he reached that goal.
No, he couldn't. He wasn't worthy.
Yoda did the honors in his place. As another member of Obi-wan's linage, it was proper for him to do so.
The braid, along with everything else, burned. Lightsaber and all. But tucked into the inner pocket of the new Jedi Knights robe was another saber. The kyber inside the casing that once glowed a steadying green was dead, devoid of all color.
The failed Master continued his vigil beside the pyre until the sun rose, haunted by those three last words;
"I love you."