Title: New Friends

Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Star Wars (almost directly after TPM)

Rating: G

Warnings: Qui/Obi implied. Don't read if you have a fear of vomiting

Spoilers: Ep1
Disclaimer: This is not my universe! I don't get paid! Not a cent! This is just for fun!
Summary: Tala meets Ani and helps Obi-Wan come to terms with Qui-Gon's death

 

 

New Friends

 

            “Very good, Ani,” Tala patted the boy on the back. “You may go ahead and jump down and get dressed again.” He made some notes in the boy's chart in the meantime, light pen sticking out of his mouth at the corner.

 

            Anakin hopped down from the exam table and pulled on his over-sized tunic, tucking the extra cloth down into his trousers. He fudged with the belt for a moment or two before Obi-Wan's hands reached down, over his shoulder, to do it up for him.

 

            Tala looked up as they prepared to leave, calling out, “Obi, we'll have coffee today.” He spoke like a master, demanding, without a hint of doubt in his voice. It had not been a question.

 

            Obi-Wan cleared his throat and hook his head. “No thank you, Tala.” He held up the boy's cloak for him to slip into as it was chilly outside. The wind was picking up quite early into the season and the boy always looked pale and chilled when they were outside.

 

            Tala only smiled, “Great. If Anakin would like to come along, I'll see you both at three o'clock then.”

 

            Had the man not heard properly? Again, he protested, “I'd really rather not. We're still getting settled and there's a lot to be done—“

 

            Continuing on, “There's a new coffee place that opened on the strip since you've been gone that you must try. Very thickly flavored coffees.”

 

            With a frustrated sigh. “Look, Tala, I know what you're trying to do. But I don't want to—“

 

            “That's such a generous offer, Obi, but I do insist on paying.” he replied, giving a solid, full grin. The Healer was absolutely immovable.

 

            There was silence, contemplation, and then Obi-Wan cracked a smile. “Three o'clock then.”

 

            “That's the smile I missed.” Tala reached out and punched Obi-Wan's arm, then ran his hand affectionately over Anakin's buzzed hair. “See you then.”

 

            He watched as the two departed, pulling up hoods as they ducked out the door into the cold, drizzly Coruscant weather. It was early yet in the morning, and there were many things to be done. Tala wasn't honestly certain how he was going to go about sparing a few hours in the afternoon for coffee, but considering the circumstances it needed to be done. Obi-Wan hadn't said so much as a word to him about it all, just 'Good to see you' and 'Can you give Ani his prelim exam?' It was as though Obi-Wan were trying to forget he knew Tala at all, or forget all of what had happened. Tala pushed up his sleeves and handed the med file to the nearest passing by droid. It was best to leave the questions to later; there was work to be done now.

 

*          *          *

 

            Tala rose to his feet rather gracefully for an exhausted healer and held a hand up, arm out in greeting. Signaled to the table, Obi-Wan led Anakin over, through the crowd and around the noisy tables, hand tightly linked with the boy's to be sure not to lose him. So much going on in such a little area. Tables were packed in tightly, and waiters zipped from one to the other by means of an overhead wire suspension system. There was a band at one end, though the musicians were milling about and drinking coffee much more than playing. There was a din of conversation, so much that Obi-Wan didn't hear the first time when Tala had called to his attention. But Anakin had heard, tugged Obi-Wan's robes and directed his master with a pointing hand.

 

            As Obi-Wan approached, his face fell. It was not an expression of worry, or sadness. But one of reluctant duty, one he'd been dreading since their return. He dropped the boy's hand and Anakin hopped up into a seat at the table rather obediently. Obi-Wan stood facing Tala, Tala facing Obi-Wan. Obi's hand went up to the back of his neck, rubbing there roughly. He'd been letting his hair grow out after so many years of cutting it so short as a Padawan, and though it still was not long it had lately been tickling the back of his neck. His eyes went down to his boots and the dirty café floor. His words struggled, hesitated, filled with sadness and uncertainly. “Tala, I…” He closed his mouth, puffing his cheeks just a little, squinting his eyes just a smidge; he was suddenly trying hard not to cry.

 

            Interrupting, Tala stepped forward and held out his arms. “Shut up and come here, Obi-Wan.”

 

            The new Jedi Master heaved a sigh and fell into the healer's arms. His head was buried in the tall man's shoulder, his body pressed up against as the man's arms wrapped around him in a warm, secure hug. No one could see tears running down his face, no one could tell his body shook with upset albeit silent sobs.

 

            When Tala spoke his voice was soft, for Obi-Wan's ears alone, and comforting, with soothing tones. “Why did you not come to see me when you returned?”

 

            With a soft sniffle and broken speech, “I didn't know what you would say… I didn't know what to say to you. I thought you would... blame me. He… you… your friendship. And what happened… it wasn't right.”

 

            “I found out from a report crossing my desk about a death certificate needed. Is that right?” He realized he was crying as well and sniffled, crooning his head to rub his cheek on his other shoulder.

 

            “I'm sorry…” Obi-Wan confessed. “I'm sorry I could not… I should have, but I could not… I would take his place if I could. It should have been me instead.”

 

            Ever-reasonable, Tala replied with, “He was meant to die, Obi-Wan, not you. It was his time to go, his time to give you the time to be strong and fight to win. Truly the force tells you—“

 

            “The force killed the only man I'll ever love! And I'm supposed to trust it again?” He was angry, swallowing sobs.

 

            Shhh, Obi. Don't say things you don't mean. Qui lost me to a healer's path, and he lost one padawan to the dark side. He wouldn't want to have you lost either.” No mention of what it might have done to him emotionally. The man was wise and noble, but more sensitive than anyone Tala had ever known.

 

            “I know,” he mumbled, face pressed hard into the man's robes.

 

            Tala rubbed a hand up and down Obi-Wan's back. “Can you really blame the force for Qui-Gon's death?”

 

            His head shook back and forth. “I blame myself.”

 

            Tala sighed. “I could lecture you on destiny, Obi-Wan. I could tell you how it was his place to die. I could tell you that you wouldn't have been able to stop it. I could tell you that you were meant for another purpose.” He squeezed the man tightly. “But you already know them.”

 

            He nodded. “The force tells me it was right.” He sniffled, crying, “And I feel it is so; I understand. But I still miss him.”

 

            “I know,” he whispered. “I do, too.”

 

            Obi-Wan chuckled, pulling back a little, sniffling and rubbing his face on Tala's front. “I managed to get through the funeral pyre just fine without sobbing like a woman.” He sniffled again. “I can't let the boy see me crying.”

 

            Tala felt it was perhaps too late for that, but he nodded, pulling out a handkerchief and stepping back to swab Obi-Wan's face with it briefly, before handing it over for a good blow of the nose. “Well, I don't care if he sees me cry,” he sniffled, rubbing his face dry with his sleeve. “But I don't imagine salty coffee would taste very good.”

 

            Obi-Wan shook his head, giving a weak smile. “No… I don't imagine so.”

           

            “You all right?”

 

            He hesitated, then nodded. “I'm sorry to—“

 

            “Shut up and let me buy you a coffee, Obi-Wan.” With a hand on Obi-Wan's back, he led the man to a seat at the table.  “So, Ani, you've had a chance to read the menu. Anything look good to you?”

 

            The boy nodded enthusiastically, gesturing to the pictures on the orderpad in front of them. “These cakes look delicious, and the milkshake… and this... whatever this is…” he paused, surveying the menu once more. “Oh! And these sound wonderful… and this…”

 

            Laughing, “We'll just have to get them all and sample then. Why don't you order for us, Ani?” The boy, grinning, punched a few selections into the electronic waiter system and handed it over to Obi-Wan to review. Obi-Wan added in a blended coffee and then passed it to Tala.  “That's it?” He tapped a few more buttons, then a few more. “There, now we have a good spread.” And he held it out to Anakin to push the 'place order' button.

 

            “Really, Tala, you don't need to waste your money on us.”

 

Obi-Wan made a movement to grab the pad and cancel the order, but Tala blocked him with a forearm and a casual “Whoops, too late.” Tala smiled back. “If I can't waste it on my friends, who could I waste it on? Besides, consider it an apology for not being able to attend Qui-Gon's ceremony.”

 

            “So you knew Master Qui-Gon, Sir?”

 

            Tala coughed, startled. “First, lad,” he said, clearing his throat again before continuing. “No one calls me Sir. I go by Tala, or Healer. Or Healer Tala if you're feeling terribly formal, but that's it.” He paused. “Second, yes I knew Qui-Gon. We were roommates at the Jedi Academy since we were nine. He was my oldest… and dearest friend.” With a smile, “And he always will be.”

 

            “Roommates?” the boy asked, confused. “But you couldn't be as old as—“

 

            “Ani!” Obi-Wan hushed the boy before he could finish what damage he'd already done.

 

            Laughing, “No, no. It's all right.” He leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “Never be afraid to speak your mind, Anakin. Holding questions and emotions inside is not being true to yourself.” He hadn't meant to be so philosophic, but the point was aimed at Obi-Wan as well. “To answer, yes, I'm as old as Qui-Gon was. But I'm a healer and my body ages more slowly. I don't look it or feel it.” He looked down at the blinking light on the e-waiter terminal. “And it looks like the order is ready. Would you get it for us, Ani?”

 

            The young boy nodded, looking pleased to have some responsibility and hurried off to the counter to do a good job at the assigned task.

 

            In the meantime, Obi-Wan leaned towards Tala and dropped his voice. “What do you think of the boy?”

 

            Tala had a rather serious tone in his voice. “To begin with, he is remarkably bright. He seems to understand much more than he shows. And in all my years I have never seen someone heal as quickly as he did. After I pricked him to draw some blood, it was healed back up perfectly by the time I turned around with a bandage. I can't imagine him ever being sick or dreadfully injured.” With a laugh, “If someone were to cut off an arm, I'd bet he'd be able to grow it back! He has amazingly fine healing qualities… and yet, he will not be a Healer, that much I can tell. He… he remembers his parents?”

 

            Obi-Wan nodded. “His mother. You can sense those emotions then?”

 

            Tala nodded. “The moment I'd broken the rules, and seen the hurt in this universe so early… well, let's just say I am at peace with my banishment. I chose that path myself. But the boy… he has his own path and I think it will be a very unique and difficult one. True hurt can lead one away from a Jedi's path. I'm surprised the council didn't reject him on the spot.”

 

            “They did,” Obi-Wan replied, looking a little uneasy. “But Qui-Gon… he never listens. And he knew it was right.”

 

            “And now you're left to train him?”

 

            Obi-Wan nodded. “I want to train him. I promised Qui-Gon…” something about that caught in his throat, and he closed his mouth immediately, swallowing.

 

            Tala decided it was not the time for reassurance on that point and quickly changed the subject. “Anakin's got the tray rather secure there… maybe he should be a waiter?”

 

            Obi-Wan's mouth opened for laughter and he nodded, reaching out and punching Tala in the arm.

 

*                      *                      *

 

            “Master Obi-Wan?” Anakin paced in front of the door. He could sense Jedi masters in rooms all about the hallway and it made him a bit nervous; he certainly didn't want to be scolded for waking any of them up. He rapped on the door again. “Master Obi-Wan?” The boy leaned close to the door and had a strong feeling something was terribly wrong. With his ear pressed flush to the door, he strained to listen. And listen he did, but it wasn't pretty. He tried again, knocking loudly, calling out in desperation, “Master? Master Obi-Wan? It's me, Ani. Can you open up?” Pause, but no answer. Finally, Ani headed to the only place he could think of, to the only one he could track down to help.

 

“Please state your name and malady,” barked the droid.

 

            Anakin ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I'm actually looking for Healer Tala. Is he here?”

 

            The droid repeated. “Please state your name and malady.”

 

            “My name is Anakin Skywalker and I'm fine. I'm just looking for Healer Tala… uh… I don't know his last name.” Nervously, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 

            “Anakin?”

 

            Anakin looked over to see a bathrobe-clad Tala walking over. He looked exhausted with his hair standing quite on end, stubble covering the lower half of is countenance and red, bleary eyes. He yawned openly, scratched his hip, then is chest under the robe, then his chin. “Are you ok?” He dismissed the med droid.

 

            The boy nodded. “I'm sorry to bother you… I can just go—“

 

            “No no,” another yawn. “I was just doing some night work in my office, not quite in bed yet.” That wasn't as big a lie as it seemed; he had only just dozed off at his desk for a few minutes. “Please, stay. What's wrong?” He looked worried. “Can I get you some tea or warm milk?”

 

            A shake of the head. “Master Obi-Wan asked me to stop by his quarters a few minutes ago to go over my lessons for tomorrow, but he didn't respond to my knocks and… I think I heard him getting sick.”

 

            Tala tightened the waistband of his bathrobe and ran a hand through his hair. He laid his other hand on Anakin's shoulder firmly. “Go to bed. I'll look in on him right now. I'm sure he's fine.” On the contrary, he couldn't imagine what was wrong with him. Tala could if he was coming down with anything and he'd sensed nothing of that sort earlier. He led Anakin out of the center. “Can you find your way back to your room from here all right?”

 

            The boy nodded and set off. Before long, Tala found himself standing in front of what used to be Qui-Gon's quarters, but were now rather Obi-Wan's. There was no response to his knocks either, so he took the liberty of his position and used a medical override to enter.

 

            The quarters were dark, as they always were, but a dim light shown from the bed chambers so Tala quickly made his way over. What he found was Obi-Wan sitting up in bed, hunched over a pillow he clutched to his chest, tears streaming down his face. The man was sobbing constantly, shaking hard. Then he pulled back, swallowing his sobs, choking, sputtering, vomiting. In short, not the noble image of a Jedi Master at all.

 

            Tala moved in, settling softly on the bed beside him. He lay a hand on the man's back comfortingly. The man lurched forward with his stomach, coughing. Tala could sense nothing at all physically the matter; this was not the flu nor a case of bad food. The only thing he could do was be a friend. Tala managed to retrieve a glass of cool glass of water and a wet cloth from the 'fresher. “Shhh, quiet Obi now.” He wiped the man's face gently, then held the towel to the back of his neck. Obi-Wan shivered, still sobbed, and hugged the pillow tighter to him. Tala lifted the glass to his lips with a soft whisper. “Drink just a little for me.”

 

            After swallowing more sobs, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and a few sips of water. With his breath caught, he seemed to calm. If anything, he had stopped crying for the moment.

 

            “There we are.” Tala wiped Obi-Wan's face with his own handkerchief. “Blow for me.” And held the hanky there for him.

 

            Obi-Wan obeyed, hugging the pillow tightly still, his hands clenching the stuffing. “I…” he hesitated, sniffled, and stopped all together.

 

            Trying to determine the problem, “Are you scared? Angry? Upset?”

 

            But the Jedi simply shook his head, sniffling. “I just miss him.” His voice dropped to a soft, barely-audible whisper. “He was my only love, Tala… and…” He choked on the words, coughing, clutching his stomach around the pillow.

 

            Shhhh,” He moved the towel from neck to face, cold on the man's forehead, then wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I know, Lad.”

 

            Obi-Wan, the new Jedi-Master, looked up through tears with a look of pure innocence and heated embarrassment. “I got sick.” He shivered, breaking into a cold sweat.

 

            Nodding, Tala took charge. “I know. It's all right.” He lowered the cloth and patted the man on the back. “I want you to put on different pajamas and I'll take care of the rest. Give me another blow, huh?” and raised the handkerchief again.

 

            Obi-Wan did so, then made his way to the bathroom. In the meantime, Tala managed to locate clean sheets and put a pot of water on the stove for tea. Something soft, soothing, that wouldn't hurt a raw stomach. When Obi-Wan returned, Tala tucked him loosely into bed with a warm washcloth on his tired face.

 

            “Tala?” the man asked, as if the thought suddenly occurred to him. “Why'd you come by tonight?”

 

            The healer smiled, applying a standard excuse, “My room flooded and I thought I might use your couch?”

 

            Obi-Wan propped himself up on one elbow, taking the cloth from his face and rubbing at his eyes. He gave the healer a slight smile. “Did Qui-Gon fall for that one?”

 

            Tala laughed. “No, but he gave up his bed for me anyway.”

 

            “Do you want—“ with raised eyebrows, ready to move to the couch himself.

 

            “No no. It's just fine.”

 

            With a look toward the empty side of the bed, “It's lonely.”

 

            “It's all right.” He rubbed the man's thigh through the blanket. “You, me, Ani. We'll watch over each other… I'll keep my eye on the boy.”

 

            He sighed, rolling over on his side, curling up comfortably. “You sense it, too?”

 

            A nod. “But even Qui-Gon was hesitant to take his first padawan.”

 

            And they both knew that had not worked out as well as it should have. It was not entirely Qui-Gon's fault of course, but sometimes hesitation was there for a reason. Following the force did not always mean diving right into anything. “Qui-Gon never hesitated,” Obi-Wan corrected. “He waited patiently, wisely until he felt it was right.”

 

            “The older, wiser Qui-Gon, yes. The Qui-Gon before was reluctant to take his first.”

 

            “Yes,” with a raised eyebrow, “And look what happened to his first.”

 

            Silence. Undisputable silence. Tala finally spoke. “Get some sleep now. No more crying this night. Qui-Gon is one with the force; he is one with you. I want you to relax and dream him back.”

 

            Obi-Wan rubbed the back of his hand roughly against his face, not so much from the crying but in exhaustion. “You'll be all right on the couch?”

 

            “Just fine. Sweet dreams.” As Tala settled down on the couch, slipping off his bathrobe in lieu of a blanket, he heard a few snuffles and sobs still from the Jedi. Though it sounded as if the man were truly trying to keep his word in not crying.

 

            After a long handful of minutes, Tala pulled himself up off the couch, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. He settled on the bed, reaching out and rubbing Obi-Wan's side. “Maybe I was too quick. Maybe I should just sit in bed with you a while longer?” He brushed tears from the Jedi's cheeks.

 

            Sniffling, Obi-Wan reached out and stoked the empty spot in bed beside him. “He used to sleep right here beside me in bed.”

 

            For a few moments, Tala did not know what to say. Then he smiled, trying not to laugh, and replied with, “He used to snore when he slept on his left side.” He still had vivid memories of throwing things at the man from across the room when they shared quarters as initiates.

 

            Obi-Wan actually managed a laugh, gulping back tears. “Yes, he did. And he used to fall asleep at his desk working too long.”

 

            “I'm afraid I might have started him on that habit. I used to have to walk him over and tuck him into his bed or he'd fall right out of his chair.” Tala paused, wiping the rest of the tears away from the man's cheeks. “He used to tell me how proud he was of you.”

 

            Eyebrows raised. “Really?”

 

            Mmmhmm. He cared a great deal for you.” He coughed, realizing that was the most obvious thing to say in the world.

 

            But Obi-Wan was still pulled in by it. “I know.” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “But when it came down to it, Tala… his last words were of Anakin… not of me.”

 

            It was Tala's turn to raise his eyebrows, and he stifled a laugh of surprise. “Well, of course. What you and he were…. do you really believe it needed to be said? Force… do you really think he wanted to see you the last time crying?” He paused. “Do you really think he expected never to see you again?”

 

            Shaking his head, Obi-Wan could say nothing; but there was nothing to be said.

 

            Tala tucked the covers around him tightly. “How about I tell you a story while you fall asleep?”

 

            A nod. The Jedi closed his eyes.

 

            “All right.” He moved over to the other side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard, settling in for a nice long story. “Long, long ago in a galaxy far away, there was a young Jedi initiate who had perfected the art of bending the rules just enough to defy while still being a brilliant, noble lad…”

 

            Obi-Wan snuggled up to Tala, wrapping his arm around Qui-Gon's pillow once more, this time not to cling to it, but to simply be with it. He laid his head on Tala's thigh and listened as the man's voice quickly sent him to sleep.