[The past few days remain nothing but a blur of muffled noises and glimpses of color and light, and as Qui-Gon's eyes flutter open for the umpteenth time, he finds himself reviewing what he knows before unconsciousness claims him again.]
[He remembers Anakin carrying him to the medical center, with an anxious Ezra never leaving his side. He remembers panicked voices and skeptical healers as they wheeled him away. From there, he can recall moments of pain, subsequent relief, and finally... nothing. At that moment, he thought he'd died, that his fate had finally arrived and although he'd been taught his entire life to embrace that instant and his newfound place as one with the Force, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. The very idea of leaving Ezra behind like this... it hurt. It hurt to know that making the ultimate sacrifice for his son would only cause more pain and suffering. He'd known the consequences of his decision at the time of Obi-Wan's final blow, but that didn't change the pangs striking at his heart.]
[But the fact that they struck in the first place, and that they would continue over the next couple of days, meant he was still alive. That meant he could rest and get better.]
[Healers visited him on and off during that time, cleaning his wound and changing its dressing while checking on the breathing mask covering his face. Qui-Gon remembers that, too. He also remembers how they whispered about a boy who wouldn't leave no matter what they said or did. He has no doubts as to the identity of said boy, and as his gaze shifts to scan the room, sure enough, Ezra is sitting there. He's clearly seen better days, but he's there.]
[Qui-Gon smiles, any threats of slipping back to sleep fading away and replaced by willpower. He doesn't trust himself to speak just yet--not with his throat so dry--so he settles for the next best thing: lifting a hand to gently brush against Ezra's. Meanwhile, his right arm lays uselessly across his chest, held in a sling for obvious reasons.]
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timeasmymeasure
[ACTION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FANTASTIC AUGUST DUMPSTER FIRE]
Date: 2017-08-25 03:04 am (UTC)[He remembers Anakin carrying him to the medical center, with an anxious Ezra never leaving his side. He remembers panicked voices and skeptical healers as they wheeled him away. From there, he can recall moments of pain, subsequent relief, and finally... nothing. At that moment, he thought he'd died, that his fate had finally arrived and although he'd been taught his entire life to embrace that instant and his newfound place as one with the Force, he couldn't bring himself to accept it. The very idea of leaving Ezra behind like this... it hurt. It hurt to know that making the ultimate sacrifice for his son would only cause more pain and suffering. He'd known the consequences of his decision at the time of Obi-Wan's final blow, but that didn't change the pangs striking at his heart.]
[But the fact that they struck in the first place, and that they would continue over the next couple of days, meant he was still alive. That meant he could rest and get better.]
[Healers visited him on and off during that time, cleaning his wound and changing its dressing while checking on the breathing mask covering his face. Qui-Gon remembers that, too. He also remembers how they whispered about a boy who wouldn't leave no matter what they said or did. He has no doubts as to the identity of said boy, and as his gaze shifts to scan the room, sure enough, Ezra is sitting there. He's clearly seen better days, but he's there.]
[Qui-Gon smiles, any threats of slipping back to sleep fading away and replaced by willpower. He doesn't trust himself to speak just yet--not with his throat so dry--so he settles for the next best thing: lifting a hand to gently brush against Ezra's. Meanwhile, his right arm lays uselessly across his chest, held in a sling for obvious reasons.]