Staring out the
cockpit window since he had offered the pilot to take over so the
lady could rest some, Qui-Gon stared at the stars for long moments
without really seeing them at all as they were approaching the
hyperlanes.

He was however
aware enough to smile when Tahl entered the cockpit with two mugs in
hand, accepting one gratefully before turning his eyes back to the
stars.

Neither said
anything, choosing to sip the soup that both warmed and nourished
before Qui-Gon sighed deeply and looked at the dark skinned woman.
“Well?” He questioned.

“Fully broken.
That he managed to walk on it at all is nothing short of a miracle or
pure stubbornness,” She hesitated a bit before adding. “Or
determination through fear.” Tahl said softly, sitting down
in the co-pilot seat.

“Thought as
much,” Qui-Gon returned his eyes to the stars. “…He flinched
from me when I tried to touch his shoulder and praise him, lifted his
arm up to cover his head.” He whispered and Tahl almost dropped her
cup in shock.

Even though they
suspected it to the point that they were rather sure, it was still
horrifying and painful to have even more.

She swallowed
heavily before whispering. “His leg is covered in bruises. He
seemed terrified to pull up his pant leg to show me his injury. I
think if Obi-Wan could, he would have bolted from me.” Tahl sighed
deeply, feeling emotionally and mentally worn out as she just dropped
back into the chair with her cup, almost sloshing soup over the rim.

Qui-Gon rumbled at
that, adjusting some of the console control before making the jump
into hyperspace.

With that done he
too slumped back in his chair with a little more grace than his
friend.

For several minutes
neither said a thing and just focused on sipping their soup before
Tahl sighed and looked to the other Jedi. “Did you manage to send
of a message to Master Koon?” She asked quietly, humming when
Qui-Gon nodded. “Good, at least they’ll be ready when we arrive.
We’ll more than likely be meet by council members in the hanger and
healers.” Her face twisted.

She’d seen this
once before, a knight caught in abusing their padawan, when they had
returned from mission the knight and padawan had been quickly
separated under the pretense of the padawan requiring some kind of
emergency hypospray shot set and the councilor took the knight away
only for the Sentinels to drag her away once the padawan was out of
sight and danger from the master.

Tahl had been young
then.

“Yan could be
stern when I was his padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured. “He’s an older
master and trained by Yoda but his punishments would never include
striking me or physical pain for such a purpose. Extra chores? Yes.
Essays on why I should not have done what I did, of course and even
meditation. But he never struck me for the purpose of discipline,”
He breathed out heavily. “That this knight Shkma would dare to…”
He trailed off, incensed.

Tahl just sighed,
finishing off her cup. “I know.” She whispered heavily.

Frowning into his
cup, Qui-Gon looked at her again. “Wait, should we warn Obi-Wan?
Won’t he be upset when the healers and council members meet us in
the hanger?” He questioned.

Hesitating, Tahl
finally shook her head. “No, they’ll have a plausible
explanation, his leg.” She settled on.

Frowning still,
Qui-Gon slowly nodded and finished his own cup.

Neither heard the
quiet steps of the sole mon calamari with her hands pressed over her
mouth and wide, teary eyes as she made her way back to the lounge,
Bant’s shoulders shaking as she observed her friend sleeping in the
corner with his back to the wall and both his legs, even his injured
one, pulled up to his chest.

‘Poor Obi-Wan!’