"Xani... NO!"

With an agonized cry, Qui-Gon Jinn leapt forward, hands outstretched toward his doomed  Padawan. Frantically trying to stave off the horror before him, to keep his apprentice from falling into the boiling morass of stench and acid and death, he reached out, only to have Xanatos step deliberately backwards, out of his grasp.

Laughing maniacally, the feral look of satisfaction painting his face in demon's blood, Xanatos sent one last long glare at his old Master and leapt away - into the roiling acid pool. Tearing screams of agony and liquid torment seemed to echo for an eternity.

"Xani....."

And then that moment splintered into a mirrored infinity of glittering ice-shards as the universe came apart. With horror clawing his throat, Qui-Gon howled awake and sat bolt upright in his bed.  

His heart still thundered, his breath stuttered, shaking with nightmare terrors. He took great gasps of air, trying to still his anxiety. He kept telling himself, over and over again, that it was only a dream, only a dream. And then the acrid whiffs of boiling meat, the bone-white despair, the sorrow of lost chances slowly melted into the now of the crypt-quiet room.

A few moments later, a muffled inquiry of "Master..." and his young apprentice padded hesitantly into the room. "Are you all right?"

Qui-Gon flinched as the common room light spilled across his bed. Corpse-color bright and then the shadow of a child fell over his face. With dread still lingering in the back of his eyes and remembered horror shivering into his skin, his voice was harsher than he had intended. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."

The boy blinked rapidly at the rasping tone, his small shoulders slumping. "I'm... I'm sorry I disturbed you." As he turned to go, he murmured, "I thought...."

Memories of that melting agony roughened Qui-Gon's reply. "We have much to do in the morning, Padawan. You should get your rest."

"I'm sorry, Master. I only wanted to..."

Qui-Gon leaned back and closed his eyes. Even awake, he was still haunted by the dreams. And it was not the child's fault that the nightmares visited him every day for a week, draining him.

A gentle sigh. "I appreciate the offer but you cannot help me in this. It will pass. Now get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow."

Yet the youth still did not understand, only heard the regret and believed himself the cause. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon tried to reassure him but exhaustion began to pull him in. Tomorrow, he would explain it tomorrow. "Obi-Wan, it will be all right." And then the words slurred into sleep.

The boy sighed as his Master drifted into uneasy slumber. He only wanted to comfort but it seemed as if Master Qui-Gon didn't want his help. An unhappy whisper. "Yes, Master, tomorrow. A new mission, a new beginning. Tomorrow, we leave for Melida/Daan. Perhaps this time you'll let me help and then everything will be all right."

The End

Feedback is always welcome: dianethx@comcast.net