Archive: Yes, anywhere
Archive Date: May 28, 2001
Author's Webpage: http://diana.slashcity.com
Category: Pre-slash
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I guess we all know that by now and we know who really owns them. However, if he wants to lend them to me for a couple days, I have a boss who could use a good Jedi mind- whammy to give me a raise...
Feedback: Always welcome, good or bad. I get some of my best ideas from my readers. Email address above.
Notes: This story is pre-slash, features an OFC
This series developed from some discussions on the Masters and Apprentices' list regarding children in the Temple and some thoughts regarding children being taken away from their parents. I began thinking about reasons why parents might want to give their children to the Temple and just exactly how the Jedi go about locating and securing these young recruits. Because I want to explore differing opinions on how the Jedi would treat their children, the Jedi Apprentice books are being ignored in this series (which doesn't mean that I don't like the books - I do. I'm just not using them here.) I'm also messing about with some canon/fanon items like Qui-Gon's age and apprentices.
Pairing: Q/O
Series: Children of the Temple
Summary: While looking for candidates for Jedi training, Knight Meduri gets more than she bargained for.

Kishara Meduri, Knight-Healer of the Jedi Order, lay on the bunk in her small cruiser and contemplated getting drunk. Absolutely, totally, completely, staggeringly and regretting-it-in-the-morning drunk. So drunk that she could no longer remember her name or what she was doing on this Sith-be-damned planet. Only the fear that drinking would destroy her shields and leave her totally open and vulnerable to the Passing kept her where she was instead of planted in front of the replicator with a glass in each hand. Even now she could feel that plaintive wailing through the Force, wailing that grew weaker with every day. It wouldn't be much longer - a day, maybe two - and she didn't want to be here to feel that bright soul slip away, but the Force gave her little choice. It wanted her here, and here she would stay until it was over.

For a moment, she wanted to rail against all stubborn, self-centered, blind Ordinaries, to scream to the universe against the unfairness of it all, to curse with every foul word learned during her Padawan days. But that was not the Jedi way. With a sigh, she pushed herself up into a sitting position to meditate. Closing her eyes, she released her worry and grief to the Force.

There is no death, there is only the Force

For once in her life, she found no comfort in that thought.

One Week Earlier

Knight Meduri sat at the computer console in her small ship as she finished inputting the last information on the tests she had run over the past year. Fifteen planets with several hundred thousand children under three tested and cataloged into the system, as required by Senate law. Thousands of parents reassured that neither the Senate nor the Jedi were going to run off with their children. Many hours spent probing for likely candidates, talking with local midwives and healers, listening patiently to Old Ones reminiscing about the proud day that a son or daughter or grandchild had gone off to the Temple on Coruscant. And, for as many parents who were relieved to learn that their child was not Force-Sensitive enough to qualify for the Jedi Order, there were an equal number who had been hoping to brag that they had sent a son or daughter to the Temple and who had to be disappointed. Kishara managed to leave each family reassured and happy with her findings due to her empathic skills and soothing words. After ten years, Kishara was very, very good at this.

She was even better at Searching children for the Jedi, which was why she had been selected for this duty within the Healer discipline thirty years ago. She had a natural gift for finding them, for tying into the currents of the Force that led her to Sensitives. She also had a way of reassuring the parents of these Sensitive children. Parents found that - for the first time since their precocious children were born - they were able to speak freely about their little enigmas. She talked knowledgeably about colicky nights and babies that woke at the slightest disturbance, about toddlers that were exhaustive dynamos during the day and screamed with unexplainable terrors at night. She explained the difficulties in raising Force-Sensitive children by non-Sensitive adults, somehow managing to make each parent feel proud that they had been able to nurture these difficult children up to this point instead of feeling like failures because their children didn't behave like the neighbor's children.

She was good with the children, too, and many a stranger-shy toddler readily climbed into her lap for a cuddle. Parents, watching her bounce a giggling toddler or rock an infant to sleep, wondered if these were the same demon-spawn children they had brought into the world. And the obvious love and care she felt for the little ones reassured them that their children would be well cared for by the Jedi should they decide to commit their children to the Temple.

A dozen candidates had been identified during this most recent search. Three families had decided to give their children to the Temple immediately and Kishara had made the arrangements for Jedi-accompanied transport to Coruscant for their children. Another family was relocating to Coruscant to be near their child and had been put on a passenger transport with assurances of housing and work at the other end. Two more families would likely decide to accept the Jedi's offer within the next year which would make it fifty-percent she thought in satisfaction. Her record was still untouchable.

And that, she thought ruefully to herself, was pride speaking. And pride, as Master Yoda was so fond of saying, led to the Dark Side, through a convoluted series of steps. She smiled as she recalled that, as a Padawan, she had realized that the exact number of steps involved in that trip seemed to depend on just how annoyed she had made the venerable Jedi.

She settled into a meditation pose, clearing her mind and releasing her prideful thoughts to the Force. What she had accomplished was good and worthy of personal satisfaction but it was not done for her personal glory. It was done for the good of the Temple, and for the salvation of these special children who seemed to become rarer with each new generation.

Kishara was in the deepest part of her meditation when she felt the faint pull of the Force, the slight tickle to her senses that had become familiar over the years. Surfacing, she went to the navcomputers and ascertained that the pull was coming from a nearby system that was not on her contact list. Calling up the Temple history of previous searches in that system, she frowned.

The only habitable planet had been settled several generations back by a farming community that had turned its back on the Republic. They were almost entirely self-sufficient, and what trade they did was the exchange of foodstuffs for material goods. She sighed - another world where Republic credits would do no good. Farming was their primary occupation and, indeed, it appeared that they had little interest in other occupations. Those few who left the planet tended to take up some form of farming no matter what planet they ended up on, whether it be sea-farming on Oceana or moisture farming on Tatooine.

Temple records also indicated that Force-Sensitives had been rare among them, maybe one or two in a generation for the entire planet, but no parent had ever chosen to send their child to the Temple.

"It's impossible," she said out loud. "It's a waste of my time. Even if there is a child there, the parents will never give it up. I am not changing course for this."

In the end, of course, she gave up. The Force could be very persistent in making its wishes known, and a series of small problems with various components of her cruiser - something that her former master had laughingly referred to as Force Gremlins - had forced her to concede. She went in search of the Caller.

Knight Meduri's search proved even more frustrating than she had expected. The elusive pull of the Force had directed her towards the southern continent, near a cluster of villages and farms, and then had promptly abandoned her. Clearly, the rest was up to her.

She extended her own Force-sense as she slowly walked through the largest village, searching among the inhabitants for the one whose Force signature had drawn her. There was nothing, absolutely nothing - and a lower level of Force-awareness among the inhabitants than normal. Hardly surprising, though. If the original colony stock had been made up of Ordinaries, then Force-awareness would have gradually been bred out through successive generations. Except for those few, those rare ones found during the searching. And the One who called to her now.

Adding to her frustration, the local inhabitants refused to talk with her. Most of them disappeared into their homes and shops at her approach, firmly shutting the door. The others responded to her polite greetings with near-rudeness. By late afternoon, she had discovered nothing and was hot, tired, discouraged, and ready to tell the Force what to do with itself. With a sigh, she headed back towards the small landing strip where she had left her ship. She needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a meal in that order before she could figure out her next step.

"Are you Jedi?"

Kishara turned, startled to hear someone addressing her in this Sith- be-damned village. Sitting on a low wall, eating a piece of fruit, was a bare-footed youth of about sixteen. She could feel a slight trace of Force-Sensitivity flowing from him, the first that she had noted so far, and her hopes flared.

"Yes. I am Kishara Meduri, Jedi Knight and Healer. And you are?"

"Ezra." Blue-green eyes, changeable as the sea, studied her from behind an unruly lock of red-gold hair. "You are here on Search, aren't you?" Gravely, she nodded. "They won't let you take any of the children, you know. They never have."

Kishara sat down on the wall next to the boy, watching him eat. He grinned at her engagingly and offered her one of the round red globes of fruit. Accepting it with thanks, she bit into it and found that it was sweet and juicy.

"Were you tested, Ezra?"

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "My count wasn't high enough. My older sister's was, though, but they wouldn't let her go."

"Your sister? Where is she now?"

"Sarawan married Jacob about ten months ago. She's expecting soon." He looked at her with wide, knowledgeable eyes. "You're here about the baby, aren't you? Sarawan says that he's special, that he's not going to be a farmer like everyone else."

"Ezra, how does your sister know this?"

The boy shrugged. "She talks to him. Not out-loud like that gushy stuff that people do, but in here." He tapped his head.

Kishara tried to preserve her Jedi calm, not revealing how excited she was. Parent-child bonds were not uncommon between Force-Sensitives but they were extremely unusual before birth unless both the mother and child were highly Sensitive.

"Do you think you could take me to your sister's house?"

Ezra nodded. "Jacob may not let you in, though. Most people here don't hold by the old beliefs."

Kishara smiled. "I'll take my chances."

A middle-aged man with a tired face opened the door and stared at Kishara for a long moment before turning to Ezra.

"Well, Brother, what means this? We have no need for wizards and sorcerers here."

"This is Knight Meduri and she's come to speak with Sarawan."

"Sarawan can speak with no one, boy. Especially not this Offworlder. She is in travail."

Kishara pushed back the hood of her robe. She had already heard the sound of muffled screaming from the back of the house and felt the stirring of the Force around her. This, then, was what she had been sent to do. "Then perhaps I can be of assistance. I am a Healer and have delivered many a baby."

"We have no need - "

"Yes, we do, Jacob Lars," said another voice, a woman's voice from behind him. "Unless you want to lose both of them."

Kishara looked directly in the face of the man blocking the doorway and waited. With a growl, he moved out of the way and she entered the house.

The other woman gestured for Kishara to follow her toward the back room. "I'm Dara, the local midwife. Sarawan is a month before her time. She went into labor yesterday afternoon but she isn't progressing as she should."

"Contractions?"

"Strong, two minutes apart now, but she's not dilating. And she's tiring."

"Not surprising after so many hours."

They entered the back room and Kishara swiftly assessed the woman lying on the bed, noting the signs of exhaustion. Hair which may have once been the color of the setting sun was now dark with sweat and limp on the pillow. Blue-grey eyes gleamed with near madness after hours of unending pain, barely registering the new presence in the room. Hands curved into talons tore at the bedding as another wave of pain made her arch, screaming in torment.

Dara went to her patient, grasping her shoulders as she soothed the woman and talked her through the contraction. The woman collapsed back on the bed and the midwife wrung out a cloth, wiping down her forehead and murmuring encouragingly.

The Jedi Healer extended her hands over the body of the laboring woman and closed her eyes, concentrating on what the Force had to tell her. The woman's life-signs were weak, her pulse thready and her respirations shallow. In stark contrast, the life-force within her belly pulsed with energy, singing through the Force with the vibrancy that had drawn Kishara to the planet. She couldn't help the slight smile that turned up her lips.

Soon, Little Light, soon. You must learn to be patient.

The midwife must have seen the smile for her voice was suddenly full of hope. "All is well, then?"

Kishara shook her head slightly, opening her eyes to look down at the laboring woman. Eyes that were sudden lucid and shockingly blue met hers, and Kishara recognized the untrained but strong Force ability within her.

"Speak, Jedi." Her voice was harsh but compelling. "I am - not afraid of - the truth."

The Jedi's eyes met hers for one moment before she nodded. She tucked her hands back into the sleeves of her robe and looked down with a calm, dispassionate face. "The baby is placed wrong for birth. You are not dilating and you are weakening. If we cannot deliver this baby, both you and he will die."

"I am dying anyway," the woman whispered. A hand strong with desperation grabbed the Jedi Healer's cloak. "Save my baby."

Kishara took the woman's face between her hands, seeing her determination. She nodded. "I will save him. I will save you both." She sent reassurance to the woman, using Force to halt the unproductive labor pains and ease the woman's suffering. The exhausted woman relaxed into the mattress with a sigh and let her eyes close.

Once the woman was relaxed and ready, Kishara dropped her hands and prepared to bring another baby into the world. She stripped off her cloak and outer garments, down to her thin singlet, and then washed her hands thoroughly. Picking up her lightsaber, she set the blade to the shortest and thinnest setting possible. One hand ran over the extended abdomen, anesthetizing the area with judicious use of the Force, and then she was ready. With a steady hand, she made the incision, slicing neatly through the flesh, cauterizing the wound as she worked. Switching the saber off and setting it aside, she reached inside and carefully removed a loop of umbilical cord from around a small neck before lifting the tiny form clear of his mother's body.

Welcome to the world, little one

Tiny lungs exercised their right to protest, and Kishara smiled as she laid the small infant on his mother's chest. "This one is not afraid to speak his mind."

The mother opened her eyes and looked down at the infant lying on her breast. One tremulous hand lifted to stroke the soft damp head.

"Benjamin," she murmured softly.

The midwife shifted the baby so that it could latch onto a breast, laughing as he did so with vigor. "Knows what he wants, too."

Kishara turned her attention back to the mother, cutting the umbilical cord and finishing the birthing process. As she healed the abdominal wound, she ran her hands over the woman's body, seeking out her energy points. Weak, dangerously so, and even now she could see a pale luminosity around the slight form. Closing her eyes, she began sending healing energy into the woman but was jerked out of her trance by a touch on her arm. Startled, her eyes flew open and she looked down into pale blue eyes.

"Don't," the woman breathed.

"If I don't do this, you will die. You are too weak - "

"It is my time." Sarawan smiled tremulously, her eyes luminous with the look that Kishara had seen all too often on the faces of the dying. "I am not afraid to die, Jedi."

Kishara couldn't force Healing on the woman but she tried to plead with her. "Your son needs you. He won't be able to survive once the Bond is broken without any other Sensitives to care for him."

Sarawan looked down at the infant now sleeping at her breast, touched his damp hair with trembling fingers. "My Benjamin," she murmured then looked back at Kishara. "You will take him. Take him back to your people. Teach him to use his Gift."

Kishara met Dara's eyes across the bed and the midwife read the message in her eyes. Gently, the woman picked up the infant and took him aside to clean him up. Kishara turned back to the mother, taking the frail hand between hers and trying again to send her energy into the failing body. Once more, it was deflected back at her and she wondered how the woman had learned to build such shields on her own.

"Please," she pleaded with the woman. "I cannot let you die. I took an oath to honor life."

"It is my choice to make, Jedi. To force me would be to break your oath."

"You know that your husband will not allow me to take the boy. Benjamin will die."

"No," the woman breathed, her eyes closing and a smile crossing her face. "He will become a great Knight - one of the greatest of the Jedi. My son...my Ben..."

With a slight sigh, she breathed her last. Kishara bowed her head, hiding tears that could not be stopped, and murmured a prayer that the woman's soul would find eternal peace within the Force. And behind her she heard the wailing cry of the young Force-Sensitive as his first Bond was torn apart.

Kishara washed her hands and donned her outer garments, then followed the midwife into the main room. Jacob Lars looked up from his seat by the fire.

"So? Be it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," Dara said. "You have a fine, healthy son, Jacob. His mother has named him Benjamin."

Jacob held out his arms and the squalling infant was placed in his arms. "Good lungs on the boy. A mite scrawny but he'll soon fatten up." As the baby continued to wail, he frowned. "What ails the boy?"

Kishara spoke up. "His mother is dead. He cries because the Bond between them was broken."

"Enough of your nonsense, woman. He's hungry, that's all," he said dismissively and turned to the midwife. "Find me a wet-nurse and we'll soon end his squalling."

Kishara was shocked by his apparent lack of emotion over the death of his wife and forced herself to take a deep breath, to release her anger to the Force. "He is a Force-Sensitive, like his mother," Kishara said firmly, determined to try to fulfill her promise to the boy's mother. "They formed a Bond before the child was born. With that bond destroyed, the child will not thrive unless another Force-Sensitive bonds with him."

Jacob glared at her. "A Jedi trick! You've already killed my wife, and now you would steal my son!"

Kishara drew herself up to her full height. "Jedi do not steal children. You have been listening to Old Wives' tales. If you wish to give him to the Temple to raise, we will accept him joyfully but we will not steal him."

"Enough!" he snapped. "Out of my house, Sorceress! Now!"

The Jedi Healer compressed her lips tightly but bowed slightly in acknowledgement and left the house. And with every step, she felt the infant's cries echoing in her heart.

Ezra was leaning against a tree at the end of the road as she walked back towards the village, and she walked over to him to give him the sad news about his sister's death. As she got closer, she saw that there was no need to tell him. The boy's eyes were bright with tears and tracks stood out on his dusty cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I did what I could."

He nodded. "I know. I - felt her go, and she was happy. For the first time in a long, long time." He fell into step beside her. "Ever since she was little, she wanted to leave here and to travel to other worlds, and now she finally will."

"She was a brave woman, and she would have made a good Jedi. I wish we could have persuaded your parents to let her come to us."

Ezra nodded. "Her baby?"

"A fine, healthy son. She named him Benjamin, and he is even stronger in the Force than she was."

"Well, if wishing could make it so, Sarawan would have willed the Force into him," Ezra said with a slight smile. "It's all she's talked about since she knew she was with child. Her child, her son, and the great Knight he would one day be." He was silent for a long time as they walked, and then gave her a sideways look. "Jacob's not going to let you take him, is he?"

"He says not, but the Force has its own way of shaping the future," Kishara said calmly. "We must wait for its will to be known."

"It's not like he doesn't have another son," Ezra said bitterly. "Two of them - Zeb and Owen. He'll be sore put-out that Sarawan died before he could get another one out of her."

Kishara stared at him, surprised. "I know he didn't seem upset about her death, but - "

"Upset?" Ezra snorted at that. "He wouldn't have married her at all except for the fat dowry my father set on her. None of the men around here would touch her - said she was demon-possessed because she knew things before they happened."

Kishara nodded; it wasn't unusual for Ordinaries to mistake Force Sensitivity for something darker, more mysterious. "She was strong in the Unifying Force, even if it was untrained." She stopped on the edge of town and turned to Ezra, putting her hands on his shoulders. "You shouldn't be seen with me right now. I expect that your brother-in-law will find some way to blame me for his wife's death."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Then you should leave! Jacob could be a dangerous man!"

The Healer shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said reassuringly. "I'm Jedi, remember? Besides, I can't leave Benjamin."

Ezra nodded, reluctantly. "All right, but have a care to yourself. Jacob Lars can be a fierce man to cross."

Two days passed before Kishara received the visit she had been expecting. She was making minor adjustments to her fuel intake system when she heard a voice shouting outside the ship - and an angry voice at that. But there was no Force presence nearby, so she knew that Jacob had come here without the baby.

Kishara carefully resealed the system and wiped off her hands, then went to the hatchway of her ship and opened it. The large farmer was stomping around on the ground below her, looking for a way to enter the ship, and she decided against lowering the ramp.

"Are you looking for me, Mr. Lars?" she asked politely.

If possible, the man turned even redder with fury. "Aye, you damned Sorceress! Take off the spell you've set on my child!"

"Spell?" she asked, puzzled.

"Aye! The boy'll neither eat nor sleep - just cries all the time. Three wet-nurses the midwife has brought to me, and he'll not take the teat from any of them."

She continued cleaning her hands with the rag. "You've been listening to Old Wives' Tales. I've set no spell on Benjamin. I'm a Healer, not a sorceress."

"You're a demon, just like Sarawan! You've taken her back to your Hell - and you're welcome to her! - but you'll not have my son!"

Kishara drew in a deep breath. "Mr. Lars, as I told you before, Sarawan was a Force Sensitive. Benjamin is a Force Sensitive. They had a bond which has been broken by her death, and Benjamin needs to bond to another Force Sensitive or he will die - "

"Enough of your gibberish, woman!" Jacob roared. "It's plain that you've ensorcelled him and you'll break that spell - with your life, if necessary." He pulled out a blaster, old but no doubt serviceable. Kishara's lightsaber was ignited in an instant and she took up a defensive posture.

"This won't save Benjamin's life, Jacob," she insisted. "Let me take him back to the Temple with me. We'll take care of him, raise him to be a fine man, a Jedi knight."

"He's my son!" Jacob shouted. "I'd rather he die!"

Kishara's eyes widened. "You can't mean that!" she protested.

Jacob drew himself up straight, dropping the hand with the blaster down at his side. "I mean every word I say. And I'll kill him myself before I let you or any of the damned Offworlders have him."

The man stalked off and Kishara stood watching, dumbfounded, until he had disappeared into the distance. She switched off her saber and slid down the hatch doorway till she was sitting on the floor, then cradled her head in her hands. The knowledge that Jacob would rather let his son die than give him to the Jedi was completely unexpected but his words had had the ring of truth in them, and she knew that he would be as good as his word. Unless by some miracle the midwife produced a wet nurse with some Force sensitivity, Benjamin Lars would die, and his father would do nothing to stop it.

Kishara drew in a ragged breath and dragged her sleeve across her eyes, then pushed herself to her feet. Reluctantly, she admitted that there was nothing else to be done here, nothing she could do except mourn the bright light that would be lost before it even had a chance to shine, and to continue on her mission. She headed for the cockpit of her ship, switched on the controls, and began preparing for departure.

Except that the engines refused to start.

Figuring that it had to be a problem with the fuel intake system, she shut down the controls and went back to the engines. The fuel injection system was once more disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled but the engines still refused to start. So she began checking over all the systems, one by one, but nothing appeared to be wrong. Everything was working fine except it just - wasn't working.

She sat down abruptly on the floor and buried her face in her hands. It was the be-damned-Force, she realized and swore under her breath. For some reason, it didn't want her to leave, not yet. And, as she felt the plaintive wailing at the back of her mind, she knew why - only she didn't have the slightest idea what to do about it.

Two days later, she still didn't know what to do but she knew that time was running out for little Benjamin. She had talked with the midwife but the woman hadn't been able to change Jacob's mind and was only able to tell her that the child was taking only scant nourishment from the wet-nurse. Kishara had looked through all the records for Sensitives from past searches, but the few others were scattered about the planet and none of them would be able to get there in time, even if they had been willing to help Benjamin. She had even been back out to the Lars farm but Jacob had refused to talk to her, refused to let her see the boy.

So now she lay on her bunk, waiting for the inevitable end, not caring about the tears that were running down her face in a constant stream. She railed against the Force bitterly, wondering what could possibly be the purpose in making her remain here to witness this Passing. It was her worst nightmare, being a Healer and unable to help, her own personal Hell, and she was trapped here until the Force chose to let her leave.

"Knight Meduri!"

Kishara sat up on her bunk. She had left the external sensors turned up, just in case Jacob Lars came back, but the voice that sounded hesitantly outside the ship wasn't the farmer's voice. It was familiar, though, as was the Force Presence with it.

She hurried to the hatch and opened it, one look confirming that Ezra stood outside, and that he had a small bundle in his arms. His face was anxious, and he looked behind him nervously.

Kishara lowered the ramp and hurried down it, her hands automatically reaching out for the infant. "Benjamin," she breathed, cuddling the child against her. The infant whimpered a little and she automatically reached out with her thoughts to soothe him.

Hush, little Light. All will be well.

Benjamin was weak, too weak to properly cry anymore, and she began to send her healing energies into the infant. The baby whimpered again and she looked up at Ezra with a smile. "He's hungry. Come - let's see what we can do about that."

She led the way up the ramp into the ship, aware that Ezra was following her hesitantly, and headed towards the small cabin across from her own where a small nursery had been installed. It was rarely used, most families choosing to take their children to the Temple or send them on the regular Temple transport, but served for situations like this. She retrieved a bottle from the replicator, having programmed the necessary bio-information for the planet's population earlier that week when she had hoped that Jacob would let her have the child. Benjamin listlessly latched onto the synthetic teat, nursing weakly but at least he was able to suck on his own. She had been half-afraid that she would have to take more drastic measures. She continued to feed her own Healing energies into him, smiling as he began to suck with more vigor.

"Slowly, little one," she murmured fondly. "Too much is as bad as too little."

Green-blue eyes latched onto hers with that odd-awareness that all Force Sensitive infants seemed to have and the infant released the nipple with a half-whimper, his shrunken belly already filled. She shifted him to her shoulder, patting his back to release any air bubbles, murmuring, "Rest, little one, and we'll try a little more in an hour or so."

She looked over at Ezra and smiled. "I'm forgetting my manners," she said. "Are you hungry? I can program whatever you would like - "

Ezra shook his head. "No, I can't stay. I need to get back to my farm - and I expect you need to get him back to your Temple. Will he be all right now?"

Kishara nodded, shifting the now-sleepy infant down into her arms and smiling at the child. "He's weak but he's a fighter, and the fact that he was able to nurse at all is good. I'll do what I can to heal him as well. He's going to be just fine."

"Good," Ezra said, his relief palpable.

"Thank you for bringing him to me," Kishara said, reaching out to grasp his arm gratefully. "And give Jacob my thanks for changing his mind."

Ezra's face flushed. "Um - "

Kishara read the truth in his face and she dropped her hand, her eyes widening. "He didn't change his mind, did he? You brought Benjamin here without him knowing!" she said sharply

"I couldn't just let Sarawan's son die, could I?" Ezra retorted.

Benjamin whimpered, his sleep disturbed by the sudden loud voices, and Kishara swiftly sent him soothing thoughts, even as she frowned at Ezra.

"You know that I can't take Benjamin, not without his family's permission."

"I am his family!" Ezra said angrily. "I'm the only one who cared about Sarawan - the only one who really cares about Benjamin! It is my right as his mother's brother!"

"I doubt that Jacob will see it that way," Kishara said dryly, even as she heard voices outside the ship. "Ezra, I appreciate what you are trying to do, and I pray that Jacob will see it the same way. I just hope that this hasn't made things worse."

She headed to the hatch, the sleeping baby still cradled against her chest, and looked out into the gathering dark. There was a large crowd gathered outside, several of them carrying torches, and she drew in a deep breath. It looked like this was going to get really ugly, really fast.

"There she is!" Jacob shouted, coming from in their midst. "And she has my son, just like I said! She stole Benjamin - "

Ezra stepped forward, angling to stand between his irate brother-in-law and his nephew. "Knight Meduri didn't take Benjamin. I did."

Jacob was livid. "You took my son - to give to this Outworlder!"

"He's my nephew," Ezra pointed out, drawing himself up to his full height. He seemed to mature in front on Kishara. "My sister's son. You would have let him die."

"It is my right - "

"Are we to speak of rights, then?" Ezra flung back at him. "Sarawan was your wife for less than a year. By rights, I can demand that you return her dowry."

Jacob looked floored by this although the sudden pallor on his face said that he recognized the truth in that. "You can't! I've already used that to purchase land and equipment - you'll ruin me!"

"Then I'll take Benjamin in exchange for her dowry," Ezra said calmly.

Jacob's mouth opened and closed several times, then he flung up his hands in surrender. "Fine! Take the hell-spawned-brat if you like! Do what you will with him! But I tell you this, Ezra Kenobi, he is no more a son of mine!" He turned around, addressing the crowd with him. "You hear that! Benjamin Lars is no more, dead to me and mine from now on."

There were nods and murmurs from the crowd, and Kishara cradled the child closer, glad that the child was too young to understand what was happening, that his village, his own father was disowning him. Then Ezra was turning to her.

"Knight Meduri, I freely give my nephew to the Temple to be fostered."

"And I accept," she said formally then added, softly, "You are welcome to come with us, Ezra. The Temple will find you a home, work - "

He shook his head. "No. This is my home, where I belong." Ezra stroked the baby's soft cheek. "He has no name now. What will you call him?"

Kishara considered for a moment. "Benjamin Kenobi?"

Ezra frowned. "That doesn't sound like a proper Jedi name." Then he smiled. "Obi-Wan, for his mother."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is," Kishara said, looking down at the child.

Ezra nodded. "Good." He stroked the child's head again, ruffling the soft red curls. "Farewell, Obi-Wan Kenobi. May you be a great knight someday, as your mother dreamed."

Kishara watched as the young man walked down the ramp and passed through the crowd still standing there. They pulled away from him, turning their backs, but he didn't seem to care as he walked on into the night. Kishara watched until he disappeared, as the crowd slowly dispersed, her heart aching. Never before had she taken a child to the Jedi except in joy, and her heart ached for the outcast child. Left with no home, no family...

A flicker of awareness touched her mind, faint and unformed thoughts that instinctively reached out for one of his own kind, and she looked down at the small child in her arms, at the eyes that were too alert and too knowing in the tiny face.

His own kind.

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. All right, Obi-Wan. Let's go home.

Back to SWA-L Archive