Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.
A/N: Written for the First Sentence Challenge on the JC boards.
It was always messy, cleaning up after a murder. Obi-Wan couldn't help but think that the person who thought that up was the master of an understatement, as he scrubbed the crime scene, to make it semi-presentable.
His Master was supposed to be an advocate of the Living Force; was supposed to respect all life. Obi-Wan wasn't sure what this latest endeavour showed respect for, but it sure wasn't life. He couldn't believe that Qui-Gon Jinn was capable of such carnage.
Obi-Wan glanced at the table, where the victim lay, massacred, by the person Obi-Wan was supposed to be able to trust with his life. That trust was severely shaken, now.
Finding that the stain he had been working on for a good ten minutes had finally come off, Obi-Wan dropped the brush and sponge in the bucket of soapy water. His hand hurt, his wrist hurt. Heck! He just hurt, all over. His Master had offered to clean up, but for him to clean up, meant that he would be within reach of his favoured weapon, and Obi-Wan could not rule out the possibility that his Master might try to do it again. That was something that Obi-Wan just could not allow.
Glancing again at the victim, Obi-Wan wondered what it may have been like in life. He wondered what it had looked like, what it had smelled like, what kinds of quirks did its personality contain. He could gain no information from the body before him. He honestly couldn't even tell if it had been male or female.
Turning away from the gruesome display, Obi-Wan went back to scrubbing the areas around the room that had suffered during the struggle. It seemed that his Master could do nothing without making a debacle out of it. Obi-Wan merely sighed at this thought and scrubbed harder. He didn't want this latest incident known throughout the Temple.
In another room of the apartment, he could hear Qui-Gon changing; cleaning himself after the incident. They still hadn't decided what to do with the remains, but Obi-Wan was content to leave that bit up to Qui-Gon. But before that could happen, he had the task of cleaning up after the murder. A thankless task if ever there was one.
Rinsing off the brush in the bucket, Obi-Wan realised that it was not as hot, or as soapy as it should be. He carefully lifted the bucket and took it slowly towards the refresher, careful not to spill any on the carpet. Emptying the water into the drain, Obi-Wan noticed that the sounds of his Master dressing had ceased. He figured that the best course of action was just to continue as he had before.
Once the bucket was full of hot water, and soapy again, Obi-Wan slowly made his way back to the scene. Or at least, he would have, had there not been a fairly tall, well built Jedi Master blocking the door way of the refresher.
"Master?" He slowly took a step back.
Qui-Gon merely stepped towards him. "Obi-Wan, do you know what all of this means?"
The bucket was forgotten as it slipped from slack fingers. "No! No, please!" Obi-Wan said desperately as he backed away from his Master, further.
"Oh, yes. After that little incident, I'm afraid I have no choice." Qui-Gon continued to advance the entire time he was speaking, quickly backing Obi-Wan against the wall.
Feeling his back against the wall, Obi-Wan slid down to the floor, and curled into a cowering position. "No. Please, Master, no!"
"Oh, yes, Obi-Wan. We're going to have to eat in the cafeteria, after the mess I made of dinner."