Full Circle

“Master...?”

Obi-Wan stopped short in the doorway of Qui-Gon’s bedroom, glancing around the tidy, spartan room with more than a little confusion. He had just come back from having breakfast in the dining hall, but instead of waiting for him with a carton of remotes in one hand and a thick, solid wood staff in the other and complaining he was late for sparring practice as usual, Qui-Gon was packing.

“Ah, good.” Qui-Gon glanced up from stuffing a plain white shirt into a small bag and gave him that familiar one-sided smile. “You’re here. Just in time.”

“Where are we going?” Obi-Wan asked eagerly, feeling a flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought of some new adventure.

There was nothing he liked more than traveling with his Master, who always managed to get interesting assignments, mainly because the Council knew he had a knack for pulling off miracles by taking a path that Obi-Wan hadn’t even seen, much less considered following. As frustrating as Qui-Gon’s habit of taking unexpected detours and making unconventional moves could be, Obi-Wan had to admit things usually turned out all right in the end, no matter how muddled they might get in-between.

“WE aren’t going anywhere,” Qui-Gon informed him, and Obi-Wan’s spirits fell immediately. “*I* am going home.”

“Home?” he echoed, tucking his hands in his sleeves and trying to mask his disappointment. “Why can’t I come with you?”

Uncertainty coiled up in the pit of his stomach. Was there some reason Qui-Gon didn’t want to take him? Had he done something wrong? Was his Master ashamed...?

As if sensing these unpleasant thoughts from his Padawan, Qui-Gon stopped packing and moved to grasp Obi-Wan’s chin in his fingers, tilting it up so that he had no choice but to meet his Master’s gaze.

“If I could take you with me, I would, but my family wishes me to come alone,” he explained, his tone kind and reassuring. “There is some legal matter of inheritance to be worked out, and they want no outsiders involved--not even you. I already asked.”

Obi-Wan nodded, a relieved smile wreathing his features, and Qui-Gon answered it with one of his own, smoothing his hand over Obi-Wan’s hair and running the younger man’s long braid through his fingers.

“I won’t be gone long,” he added as he returned to finishing his packing. Snapping his satchel shut, he slung it over one broad shoulder and turned to eye his student speculatively. “Meanwhile, you’ll stay here and continue with your training. Mace Windu has agreed to take over everything but combat training while I’m gone.”

“No sparring lessons?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully, a faint ripple of relief at not having to nurse bruises the size of plates for a while, but Qui-Gon laughed outright at the notion.

“No, I’ve asked someone to spar with you,” he said, and Obi-Wan heard the knell of doom pealing over his head; if Qui-Gon has asked someone else to practice with him, it could only mean that he or she was likely to leave him battered and hobbling worse than Master Windu would--which was pretty bad. “You’ll be working with Marrin Dain from now on.”

Obi-Wan frowned, searching his memory for a reference; he knew that name, but...

And then the information flooded forth. Marrin Dain had a reputation for being one of the worst people to practice with if one was a seasoned Padawan because she refused to pull punches, expecting apprentices with field experience to be able to handle whatever she threw at them. If they couldn’t, they’d damn well better remember the move so they didn’t get bruised by it the next time.

“...She’s a full Knight, but she hasn’t taken a Padawan learner, so she’s free to work with you everyday.”

Abruptly he realized he’d missed part of what his Master had said while lost in mournful rumination of his fate, and he snapped back to full attention. “Her Master was Gaela Sen, who learned an acrobatic style of fighting from my Master. I think you’ll find it suits you better, and I haven’t the necessary speed or agility to teach you that form.” Qui-Gon reached out and rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Be as diligent for Mace and Marrin as you have always been for me, and the time will pass quickly until my return.”

With that, he moved as if to leave, and sudden impulse gripped Obi-Wan, making him unable to keep himself from calling out.

“Master--”

Qui-Gon stopped and fixed him with a quizzical look.

“Go in peace,” he said, sending all the affection behind his formal words along their bond. “And return home safely.”

* * *

After spending a grueling morning with Mace Windu—and realizing exactly how much his Master had eased up on him over the past few years--Obi-Wan trudged back to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon, groaning as he threw himself into the nearest chair as soon as he walked in. Leaning his throbbing head back, he closed his eyes and pondered the burning dilemma of whether he wanted to make the effort of finding himself something to eat or if he wanted to let himself fall asleep so he could rest his weary mind for a while. Mace had run him through a gamut of mental exercises; even though he hadn’t moved from his seat once during the entire time he was with the older Jedi, Obi-Wan still felt as if he’d done a full day’s work.

But the day was only half over, he thought wearily. He still had sparring practice to--oh, blast!

He sat up straight, a surge of pure adrenaline helping him leap up and dash over to answer the flashing red light that indicated a voice-only message awaited him. Thumbing the button, he heard a female voice inform him that he was to meet her at the Training Hall, and a glance at the nearest display let him know that the time she named was a mere ten minutes away.

But--he hadn’t eaten! He was exhausted!

Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head. Whining--even in his own mind--wasn’t going to solve anything. He’d simply have to eat on the run as he’d done a thousand times before while accompanying his Master on a mission. Grabbing a couple of concentrates—not terribly appetizing but small and easy to chew while in motion--he dashed out the door again, headed for the Training Hall.

Like the Temple, the Training Hall was old, a massive building that combined utilitarianism with aesthetics in a manner that was peculiar to the Jedi. The Hall itself was designed along clean, pure lines that managed to convey the building’s martial purpose yet still were graceful enough to please the eye. Inside, it was divided into several levels and sections, the primary area on the ground floor being the mat room--so named because every square inch of it was covered in protective matting, including the ceiling--outside of which Marrin Dain had instructed him to meet her.

As he ran inside, panting with the effort of getting there if not on time at least not terribly late, he glanced around expectantly, searching for any sign of the formidable Jedi. Instead, all he saw were other Padawan milling around, a small cluster of them engaged in animated conversation at the far end of the corridor and one lone girl leaning against the wall near the entrance to the mat room, her arms folded across her chest and her legs crossed at the ankle. Her attitude seemed to be one of repose, but Obi-Wan knew that no Jedi, unless they were one of the most raw, unfledged Padawan, was EVER fully relaxed.

He stopped and gave her a once-over, the beginnings of a charming smile aimed in her direction tugging at his lips; she was dressed in typical loose tunic and pants, and even though she wasn’t wearing an outer robe, he couldn’t tell much about her figure; she was, however, attractive enough to spark a little interest. The conspicuous absence of the Warrior Queen Marrin Dain gave him the perfect opportunity to stroll over, charm dial turned all the way on high as he approached her. She glanced up at him, her expression unchanging except for one eyebrow which arched questioningly.

“I’m supposed to meet Marrin Dain here,” he said, smiling at the young Padawan winningly. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, would you?”

“You’re not late, are you?” the girl asked, not responding to his smile in the least. “I’ve heard she hates it when people are late. She really takes it out on them during practice if they are.”

Obi-Wan had to suppress an audible gulp, and his voice almost cracked as he protested, “It’s not my fault! I was with Master Windu all morning. I went straight home afterwards, and it was only then I got her message.” He glanced around almost furtively. “HAVE you seen her? Has she been here?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you know her?” he asked eagerly, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently caused the Jedi Knight to storm off in a huff.

“Of course I know her.” The girl tapped her chest with two fingers. “She’s me.”

Obi-Wan froze, feeling his lower jaw in danger of dropping as he stared down--far down--at the person in front of him. This was no towering warrior-woman with rippling muscles and a forbidding scowl that said she could toss him around and not break a sweat! Just looking at her, he found it hard to believe she was dangerous at all. She was short and slender with wide, somber dark eyes and long hair tied in a thick braid that reached the middle of her back. Not a terribly imposing sight, but if there was one thing his experiences--and Master Yoda--had taught him it was that appearances were often deceiving and size really didn’t matter.

“So now that you’re FINALLY here,” she added, a twinkle of mirth in the depths of her eyes that didn’t reach the rest of her face, “what do you want to start with? Staff? Remote? Hand-to-hand? Lightsaber?”

Still feeling dazed--and still attracted even though he realized now she must be at least ten to fifteen years older than he was--he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head: “Whatever will hurt the least.”

* * *

Four days.

It had taken all of four days for the young Padawan to shatter all the self-sustained illusions Marrin had built up.

She hadn’t seen Obi-Wan Kenobi in years before agreeing to work with him during Qui-Gon’s absence despite the fact that she considered Qui-Gon a good friend. He and Iain had been very close, and even though it had been three years, seeing him was still painful. Qui-Gon--lovely, understanding man that he was--realized this without her having to bumble through some awkward, embarrassing explanation. He had found subtle ways of letting her know that he was still her friend as well if she needed him, but he kept as much distance as she required.

When the four of them had kept company—Mace had been part of the group as well--she had met Obi-Wan once or twice, but he had been very young then, only about fourteen or so. She remembered him as a thin, somber and somewhat intense boy, but she hadn’t guessed that he would grow up to become such a charming and attractive young man. Given that she HAD met him, she didn’t understand why Qui-Gon had felt the need to send her so much information about him. She didn’t need to know the color of his eyes (blue-green, her treacherous mind whispered, recalling the moment when she’d looked up and seen him approaching her). Or that he could be a little rule-bound sometimes but his sense of humor made up for it. Qui-Gon had practically given her the boy’s entire life story, but why?

But if he were going to give her a complete run-down of the boy’s life, she didn’t know why he had NOT warned her that the insolent young puppy had a disconcerting habit of stripping off as many layers of clothing as he could get away with when he got hot during practice!

She had, however, been warned he was perpetually late, thus she hadn’t been surprised to see him come puffing into the Training Hall fifteen minutes late—just surprised at the flicker of attraction she’d felt when he turned a quirky smile and those blasted blue-green eyes on her. Since then, she’d deliberately ignored his charm, convincing herself that the age difference between them was too vast for attraction to be an appropriate reaction for her to have and pretending that he was twelve instead of twenty-one; instead, she treated him as she would any other young boy under her care.

On the first day, he’d been cautious, perhaps because they were strangers, perhaps because he was allowing her small size to fool him into thinking she couldn’t take as much damage as he could. After she’d figuratively--and in some instances literally—kicked his behind around the mat room, he relaxed and stopped holding back, which more than evened things up. She’d been hard-pressed to hold her own against him, and she learned exactly how much he had already progressed under Qui-Gon’s tutelage when he turned the tables on her and consistently won their matches on the second and third days.

While he didn’t seem familiar with her aerial style of combat, he appeared to observe her closely and learn quickly, asking her to show him certain moves again if he didn’t catch them the first time. No one had challenged her so much in a very long time. She was good on her own, but as a team, she and Iain had been nearly unstoppable, two bodies constantly in fluid motion, seeming to be linked by one mind so in harmony were their movements.

Mace, Yoda, Qui-Gon, Gaela--they had all told her again and again that what happened hadn’t been her fault, that it was impossible for her to have been with him every moment of the day. But that didn’t change the fact that she knew deep down it wouldn’t have happened if she’d been there, if they’d approached the danger as a team as usual. It was her fault. She’d let him down when he needed her most...

Shaking her head to clear it, Marrin concentrated her memory on the young Padawan again, remembering so she could get the disconcerting event out of her head for good. Obi-Wan had managed to send her ‘saber flying out of her hands and knock her to the ground, and he’d pinned her, a move she’d been on the giving and receiving end of thousands of times before--but this time was different.

She lay sprawled on the mat beneath him, trapped by the weight of his body hovering just over hers and by his arms braced on either side of her head. Both of them were sweating, panting from exertion; judging from the impish twinkle in his eyes, she thought he was simply going to make a teasing comment and then let her up, but suddenly their gazes locked and held--and the air around them was charged with tension. The mischievousness faded, replaced by something she hadn’t seen directed at her in far too long to remember--something she didn’t want to see from this youngster.

But what galled her even more was that she was fairly certain he could see the same thing in her own eyes. It didn’t help that he’d stripped off his robe and tunic, and all she had to do was reach up if she wanted to touch his bare skin; she knew it would be hot and damp beneath her fingers, the muscles taut and firm...

NO! She ground the heels of her palms into her eyes as if that could erase the memory, but it kept taunting her.

Seeming to forget they were surrounded by other Masters and Padawan holding their own practice sessions, he had leaned down as if to kiss her, and that hesitant movement had brought her back to her senses. Quickly, she’d braced her hands on his shoulders (strong and broad, the memory of his warm flesh still lingering on her hands) and shoved him off, then tersely declared the session over, stalking away without once looking back.

That had been three hours ago, and she was still shaken to the core. She’d almost canceled further training sessions a dozen times but stopped herself just before contacting Mace to ask him to take over for her. Qui-Gon had asked, and she’d given her word she would.

Well, not really. She’d agreed to do a favor for an old friend. But given how strained things had been between herself and Qui-Gon simply because she couldn’t successfully deal with reminders of the past, she felt obligated to do the one and only thing he’d asked of her in recent years. That was the only reason young Obi-Wan wasn’t being transferred to someone else’s care as soon as possible! she told herself firmly. But from now on, it would be business as usual--and if he ever tried anything like that again, he’d find himself in a most uncomfortable position.

* * *

In the end, Marrin showed up for his sparring session the next day, but she was careful to remain politely distant; Obi-Wan, however, was not to be chastened. He greeted her with his usual wickedly charming grin and proceeded to annoy her throughout the session by flashing that self-same smile at her at every chance he got--not to mention all the opportunities he took to hold her a little too long when they grappled, to press a little too close to her.

But the more he flirted, the more she withdrew, building a cold wall of ice between them that even his winning charisma couldn’t melt. Concentrating on the battle between herself and Obi-Wan rather than on the battle between herself and her wayward hormones, she focused all her skill, strength and intensity into keeping him scurrying around the Mat Room, eluding her fast and furious blows with her lightsaber. They engaged in a graceful dance of weaponry around the room, both so intent on the skirmish that they temporarily forgot there were other people around; as a result, they inadvertently sent several Padawan and their Masters diving to get out of the way as they lunged, parried and thrust at each other, each struggling to gain the upper hand.

At last, Marrin sent him sprawling on the floor, and he lay there, panting, not seeming in any great hurry to get up; around them, the other apprentices gave them a smattering of applause that Obi-Wan acknowledged with a smile and a wave and that she ignored.

“Now THAT is what I expected from you,” Obi-Wan said at last as he climbed gracefully to his feet. “Have you been letting me win?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“No.” She shook her head, dark tendrils of hair clinging to her damp face with every movement. “Today...was a fluke.”

“But I don't understand...” He scrunched up his nose, looking so boyishly perplexed that she had a difficult time resisting the urge to run over and throw her arms around him. “You’ve got this reputation,” he continued. “You’re supposed to be such a great fighter--unbeatable!”

“As half of a pair-bond with Iain, yes, I was,” she replied softly, bowing her head so he couldn’t see the pain in her eyes the mere thought of Iain always caused. “By myself, no. I’m easily out-matched. Qui-Gon is the best, and he has taught you well.”

“I still don’t understand why a pair bond would make a difference,” he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankles--a dangerous pose to take, and she was tempted to knock him off-balance just to teach him a lesson, but to her dismay she found she enjoyed gazing at the lines of his body too much.

“What do you know about pair-bonding?” she asked, gesturing abruptly for him to follow her out of the Mat Room; setting a quick pace that his longer legs matched easily, she headed for the secluded meditation garden located nearby.

“Not much.” She could hear the shrug in his tone even though she was carefully avoiding looking at him. “Just that pair bonds strengthen mental links.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

She fell silent, not wanting to elaborate until they were away from the Training Hall where anyone could overhear what she was going to say; once they reached the garden, she led him to her favorite bench, the one overlooking a small pond covered in water lilies, shaded by a blooming crawler tree that wound its limbs through an arching trellis. To his credit, Obi-Wan also remained quiet, not asking anymore questions. Once they were both seated, Marrin stared resolutely at a water lily with crinkley edges and took a deep, cleansing breath before she began to speak.

“A pair-bond enhances the strengths and skills of both partners, allowing them to work at a level greater than either could attain by themselves. It allows them to blend their individual strengths and bolster each other’s weaknesses. Most Jedi who pair-bond are lovers, but not always; I’ve heard of close friends, family members and same-sex bondings, but bondings are generally between two Masters, two Knights, or a Master and a Knight. Most Padawan are too young to fully understand what they’re getting into unless they’re very mature or very close to taking their Trials.”

“How deep does the bond go?”

He sounded fascinated, and Marrin rounded on him, suddenly angry that he would treat the matter as some abstract concept to be studied rather than the potentially life-shattering reality it could be.

“You want to know?” she hissed, her dark eyes snapping fire at him. “Then look!”

And then she did something she hadn’t done in years, something she had vowed she never would do again after Iain’s death: she lowered her mental shields, dropping them just enough so that he could see for himself the gaping black void in her mind where someone else had once been. Obi-Wan recoiled as if he’d been struck, his eyes wide and round with shock; his lower jaw fell, and for a moment, all he seemed able to do was gape at her with pity and horror plain to see on his face.

“...gods...” he breathed, reaching out to touch her cheek gently, and she could feel his fingers trembling against her skin. “I’m sorry...”

Turning away from him, she rebuilt her shields tighter than ever, fighting the cold knot of despair tightening in her chest. She didn’t want to cry—not now, not in front of him, not when she’d been so strong all this while...

But then Obi-Wan slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and she found that she really didn’t want to resist; it would be too much effort, and it felt so good to be held once more. She hadn’t allowed anyone--much less a man--to come near her since Iain’s death, and now, feeling Obi-Wan lending his strength and support to her, she felt herself relaxing a little. Closing her eyes, she leaned on his shoulder and rested one hand on his chest where she could feel the rhythm of his heart beating beneath her palm, steady and reassuring. She felt his warmth seeping through his tunic and robe, breathed in the scent of his skin--and one tiny imp in the back of her head wondered if it would taste of warmth, of tangy sweat, of him. He curved both arms around her and leaned his cheek against the top of her head--a gesture at once so protective and so comforting that fresh tears sprang into her eyes, and this time she couldn’t stop them.

This time, she didn’t try.

The tears were a healing balm, eroding the edges of the bitter resentment she’d harbored for years, and that alone sent panic coursing through her; it was safe behind her walls, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to tear them down--certainly not for this young man whom she barely knew! Still sniffling and swiping ineffectually at her eyes, Marrin pulled away, trying to put some distance between them, but Obi-Wan wouldn’t let her. Instead, he captured her chin in his fingers and made her look at him, made her see the sincerity and compassion in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“You can’t erase the past,” she retorted sharply, and he flashed her a mischievous smile.

“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

* * *

Marrin had stipulated that they should meet at a restaurant rather than go together; Obi-Wan had chuckled at her obvious ploy, but she refused to be baited, not wanting to give the outing any more significance than it deserved.

//Which is NONE!// she admonished herself sternly. The only reason she’d said yes in the first place—other than the fact that the aggravating pup had clearly taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness—was because it would have been rude to reject his peace offering. That was the ONLY reason.

It was.

Really.

To further emphasize her point, she dressed in her usual Jedi robes rather than civilian clothes, and she styled her hair in a tight, severe braid designed to make her look as unapproachable as possible.

//Not to mention unattractive,// she thought with a trace of melancholy as she stared at herself in the mirror. //But that’s a good thing!// she hastily told herself. //Besides, that boy’s gorgeous enough for both of us...//

Thus attired, she headed out for the restaurant—and immediately felt like ten kinds of fool when she spotted Obi-Wan already waiting at a table for her; rising to his feet as she approached, he gave her a mocking little bow and grinned cheekily.

“I didn’t realize this was a business meeting,” he said, gesturing to her robes, and she felt a dull heat rising in her cheeks as she took in his own appearance: snug black trousers tucked into black boots and a loose V-neck tunic in royal blue with sleeves that draped gracefully down his arms to tight wrists.

//And that blue does wonders for his eyes...//

NOT that she’d noticed.

Really.

“I didn’t realize this was an informal occasion,” she replied smoothly, hoping the dim lighting hid the blush burning her face as she hastily took her seat across the table from him.

He dropped heavily back in his chair and then rested his elbows on the table as he leaned towards her. “So, what would you like?”

Images of whipped cream rose up in her mind unbidden, and she banished them immediately, grateful that she kept such a close guard on her thoughts and that her particular strength lay in the mental rather than physical skills; no one had been able to touch her mind in ages—

“Or are you the type who prefers dessert first?” he added.

--she hoped.

“No.” Her voice sounded slightly breathless even to her own ears. “No, thanks. I--” She hesitated, knowing what she was about to do might not be the best idea, but she needed something to help her relax; even famed Jedi tranquillity could be rocked by a sudden re-emergence of hormones thought long dormant, and she had a feeling outside help would be needed to get her through this evening with her dignity intact. “I would like some wine to start with, I think.”

To her surprise and her dismay, she found the young man to be delightful company; he was pleasant, witty, charming, amusing--she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much, and she found herself enjoying being with him outside of the Training Hall much more than she had thought she would. Perhaps a little too much.

//But what’s too much?// she thought muzzily once they were back in her quarters; she didn’t recall inviting him in, but it didn’t matter.

At the moment, nothing mattered; her mind had started generating a lot of static, intoxicated by both the wine and Obi-Wan’s proximity, and now she found herself staring owlishly up at him, a smile that the still-sober part of her mind felt certain could only be described as “goofy” wreathing her face. She reached up and placed the tip of her finger in that intriguing little cleft in his chin.

“You,” she announced with utmost solemnity, “are THE most attractive little boy I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not a little boy,” Obi-Wan answered softly, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her close so she could feel the evidence for herself.

//No,// her bleary mind informed her. //Not a little boy’s body at ALL.//

“I know,” she sighed, leaning her forehead against his chest and idly running her hands up and down his arms. “It’s just safer if I think of you that way.”

She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest, and then he grasped her chin, tilting her head up so she had to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think the word ‘safe’ has any place in a Jedi’s life.”

“It should have...” she murmured dreamily. “There should be a safe place for us somewhere...”

Cupping her face between his hands and gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, Obi-Wan gave her the most serious look she’d ever seen from him before.

“Maybe it’s here,” he whispered.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it--could tell by the way he was pulling her closer, angling his body against hers. He was leaning down now, closing those lovely, captivating eyes, his lashes forming dark fans against his cheeks, his lips parting; she realized her breath was coming fast and shallow, anticipation coiling in a tight knot deep inside her as she waited for the first touch of his lips to hers.

That touch when it came was infinitely gentle--and infinitely powerful. It set off a spark that ignited feelings she had fought to repress and which now came flooding forth as she clung to Obi-Wan, returning his kiss with hungry abandon. She felt his warm mouth against hers and wanted more, moaned softly when he coaxed her lips apart with his tongue so he could taste and explore her thoroughly. His hands roamed her body beneath her outer robe, skimming her back, cupping her behind so that she arched against him, and she could feel his hard thighs pressed against her own, could feel his arousal.

“Open to me, Marrin.” His breath was hot against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending delicious shivers down her spine. “Open your heart...your body...your mind...”

In that one delirious instant, she wanted to. In that one wild moment, she actually considered not only taking this young man to her bed but also dropping all her shields and letting him touch her mind--and then she was saved by the bell. Or rather, the harsh annoying noise that indicated someone was trying to get in touch with her.

“No!”

She shoved him not only with her hands but with the Force as well, an instinctively defensive gesture that sent him reeling, and she backed away quickly, wiping her mouth with trembling fingers.

Drawing herself up to her full height, she straightened her robes and smoothed her hair, trying to compose herself before answering the summons. A touch of a button, and a hologrammatic projection of Mace Windu appeared before her; Obi-Wan retreated to the other side of the room, a tactful maneuver she noted and appreciated. Mace nodded a greeting, then began to speak, not bothering with opening courtesies.

“A serious problem has arisen on Danebe,” he informed her bluntly. Marrin felt the blood drain from her face, and she took an involuntary step backwards, one hand flying to her throat as she stared blankly at Mace’s transparent figure.

“Danebe...?” she whispered faintly.

A rush of movement let her know that Obi-Wan had abandoned his discrete waiting place and was behind her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back in a silent gesture of support.

“Padawan.” Mace acknowledged Obi-Wan’s appearance, and if he were surprised, his face didn’t betray it. “Marrin, I wouldn’t send you back there unless it were necessary. You know that. No one else is as familiar with the situation there as you are.”

“No one else has the reasons I do for never wanting to go back there either,” she replied, her voice regaining some of its strength.

“There’s more,” he added grimly. “The Prince has asked for sanctuary from us.”

“Paal?” she asked, tilting her head to one side questioningly.

“Dead. His son Aeric has inherited both his title—and his enemy.”

She covered her face with both hands as memories of her last trip to Danebe flooded her mind. The Council had assigned her and Iain to guard the Prince, who had received warning of a possible assassination attempt; they had tried to sort out who was behind the threat, but while they had their suspicions, they had no concrete proof. She was willing to wager that the same person was behind the new trouble for the royal family.

“You may refuse the assignment, of course,” Mace continued in a kinder tone. “But it is the Council’s wish that you should go. I think you should--”

“I’ll go,” she stated flatly.

“As will I,” Obi-Wan spoke up for the first time, his expression determined.

“What? No--!”

“An excellent idea, Padawan,” Mace said with an approving nod. “I’ll arrange for transportation for you both immediately.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, bowing respectfully. “Is there anything I should know about the mission?”

“I’m sure Marrin will fill you in on the way there.”

“I shall do my best to be of assistance to her.”

“I’m still in the room, you know!” Marrin exclaimed, bracing her fists on her hips. “Do I get any say in this at all?”

The two men exchanged knowing Looks.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied with deceptive mildness. “If you don’t agree, I shall simply be forced to follow you.”

Marrin opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again with an abrupt snap, knowing she was being out-maneuvered. There were times when it was best to fight, and then there were times when it was best to enact a strategic retreat in order to regroup. This was definitely one of the latter times.

“Fine,” she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest and glaring up at him. “But you’d better behave yourself. That means you do what I tell you when I tell you to do it, no going off on your own, and no misbehaving of any sort. Do I make myself clear, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Perfectly, Jedi Dain.”

But that face was too innocent to be innocent, and Marrin had the sinking feeling that it was going to be a very long mission indeed.

* * *

She’d been staring at the report of her first mission to Danebe for who knew how long, but Marrin hadn’t read a word of it. Not really. She didn’t need to; her mind had replayed the events of that mission countless times over the past three years. It haunted her memory, it haunted her dreams, it haunted her life.

On the far side of the room, the door to the small passengers’ sitting room slid open, and Marrin focused on the report, pretending not to notice Obi-Wan had entered the room even though her every nerve ending had alerted her to his presence. He sauntered over to the seat nearest her, dragged it over so that it was as close to hers as possible, then plopped down, leaning so he could peer over her shoulder.

She ignored him.

Taking the end of his braid, he brushed it lightly against her face, smiling impishly as he tickled her cheek and neck.

“Go away, little boy, I’m not in the mood to play,” she ordered gruffly without looking at him.

Undaunted, he chuckled softly and rested his chin on her shoulder; she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his hair, his skin--and then braced herself to resist giving in to the temptation to lean against him.

“Well, if you won’t play with me,” he murmured against her ear, the combination of his warm breath against her skin and his low, sultry tone sending shivers down her spine. “Will you tell me about our mission? What happened on Danebe?”

Marrin grimaced and let out a long, frustrated sigh. She’d bloody well walked right into THAT! It was almost worth trying to seduce him just to get him off the topic of Danebe. Almost. Allowing intimacy with him would create its own set of problems, and besides, he did need to know what he was getting into.

“Aeric’s father Paal was the person Iain and I were sent there to protect,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. “There had been an attempt on his life, and we were trying to find out who was behind it.”

“And did you?” Obi-Wan had suddenly gone from playful tease to serious Jedi in the blink of an eye, and she found herself wondering if she should be pleased with or insulted by his ability to shift modes so quickly.

“No.” She bowed her head, staring at her hands which were tightly folded in her lap. “We found the assassin, but although we were both certain we knew the identity of the one who had arranged the attempted murder, we never found any concrete evidence to link him to it.”

“And Iain died trying to protect Paal.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes...” Calling on all the relaxation techniques she had ever been taught, she forced herself to tell the painful tale, reciting it as if it had happened to someone else, not to her. “The assassin struck during a formal welcoming ceremony for a new ambassador sent to Paal’s court. Iain was like you--attuned more to the future than to the living Force--and he sensed something was amiss. There was a thermal detonator—a crude weapon, but effective--Iain was distracted by getting it away from everyone before it went off, and the assassin also had a blaster...”

Obi-Wan reached out and covered her hands with one of his own, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to continue.”

“There’s not much more to say,” she replied with what she hoped was a negligent shrug. “I wasn’t there. I was off questioning an informant. If I had been there, I could’ve done something--”

“Like what? Thrown yourself in front of the blaster shot instead? Or perhaps died with him?”

“It would have been better if I had!” she exclaimed. “Instead, I was far away, too far away to do anything but close enough to feel him die! To feel him disappear from my mind and leave nothing but emptiness--” She broke off and turned away from Obi-Wan, snatching her hands free. “That’s neither here nor there, Padawan. What matters is that the killer has had time to feel safe enough to try again, and this time he has succeeded. If Paal had claimed sanctuary from us, maybe we could’ve helped. Maybe not. At least we have a chance to save his son from the same fate.”

“And we will.”

Marrin glanced at the young man, marveling at his grimly determined expression; his confidence was charming, but she knew from bitter experience that sometimes it was unfounded. Sometimes, circumstances were too overwhelming even for well-trained, experienced Jedi. It was bad enough having to return to the setting of the greatest tragedy of her life; she simply prayed history was not about to repeat itself.

* * *

As soon as they landed and exited the shuttle, Marrin and Obi-Wan were greeted by the Prince himself, who grabbed Marrin and pulled her into an enthusiastic hug, much to Obi-Wan’s amusement. Like his Master, Marrin had an air of reserve around her, but while Qui-Gon radiated a gentle tranquillity that made people around him more at ease, Marrin projected a far more prickly, “hands-off” aura. Obi-Wan almost expected her to rip his arm off and beat him over the head with it every time he touched her, thus it was surprising to see Aeric treat her with such casual affection. Perhaps she had been different once.

This theory was further supported when a small child raced onto the landing pad, shrieking as it ran towards Marrin, arms out-stretched. “Teya Rin! Teya Rin!” As Obi-Wan watched with growing amazement, Marrin knelt and opened her arms to the child, a girl of about 8 or 9 years. Giggling, the child flung herself at Marrin, hugging her tightly around the neck.

“You came back!” the child exclaimed happily. “I missed you!”

“And I missed you, Daana,” she replied, smiling with more genuine warmth than he had ever seen her exhibit before. “How you’ve grown!”

Daana visibly puffed up with pride. “I’m almost ten. Then I’ll start my training!”

“I’m sure you’ll do very well indeed.”

Marrin stood up, keeping one of Daana’s hands in her own, and Obi-Wan could see her give the child’s hand a gentle squeeze. Just then, Daana noticed “Teya Rin” wasn’t alone, and she pointed at him, staring with disingenuous curiosity.

“Who’s that?” she asked, earning a mild rebuke about manners from her father, Aeric, which she conveniently ignored.

Marrin raised her eyes to meet his, her open smile fading a little, and he could all but see her shields settling firmly back into place. “This is my companion, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

This prompted another wide-eyed stare. “Are you married?”

Obi-Wan nearly burst out laughing, especially when Marrin’s eyes flew wide open, and she began sputtering helplessly. “No!” she exclaimed. “No, no--we’re not married. No, he’s just...my...er...my companion,” she repeated lamely.

Aeric grinned and nudged her jovially, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Got a younger man this time, eh? Good for you!”

Marrin’s entire face turned scarlet, and she gave Obi-Wan a pleading look, but he merely tucked his hands into his sleeves and did his best Qui-Gon “I’m being inscrutable again” Jinn impression.

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Aeric gave her a more serious look, and when he spoke again, his tone was affectionate and kind. “I apologize if my teasing embarrasses you, but I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see that you have found happiness with someone else. I remember how shattered you were when you left. I’m glad to know you haven’t allowed that tragedy to cripple your heart.”

If only that were true... Obi-Wan thought, sighing quietly to himself as Aeric led them back to the palace, still nattering to Marrin, who appeared shell-shocked. Meanwhile, Daana lagged behind until Obi-Wan caught up with her, and once he did, she took his hand and gazed up at him somberly.

“You like Teya Rin, don’t you?” she asked, and he glanced at her with more than a little surprise.

A minor probe showed him that the child had a slight amount of Force sensitivity; not enough to make her a candidate for Jedi training, but enough perhaps to give her a little more insight than most people possessed. It would serve her well as a ruler--provided they could keep her and her family safe, he thought grimly.

“Yes,” he replied, deciding to match the child’s bluntness with open candor of his own; she would probably sense a lie anyway. “I do.”

“But you’re not married.”

“No, we’re not married.” He smiled, and the child nodded, swinging their joined hands back and forth as they trailed behind Aeric, Marrin and the cluster of courtiers and bodyguards surrounding the Prince.

“She likes you, too, but she’s still sad,” Daana announced. “Can I call you Teyo Wan?”

“If you like,” he replied, making a mental note to ask what “teyo” meant later.

Seeming satisfied, she released his hand and skipped away, disappearing into the palace before their party reached it. As soon as they entered the palace, Aeric signaled for a footman to approach, and he smiled at his guests, appearing every inch the genial host.

“I’ll let the two of you settle in your suite before updating you on the situation. We’ll meet in two hours if that will suffice?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Obi-Wan nodded since Marrin was frowning, appearing to be on the verge of protesting something--and he could very well imagine what.

“We are grateful for your hospitality, Your Highness,” he replied smoothly, nudging Marrin sharply in the back when she didn’t move even after the footman began leading them up the massive grand staircase.

“Did he say ‘suite’?” she hissed, glaring up at Obi-Wan, who did his best to keep his expression impassive. “As in singular?”

“That was my understanding.”

A flurry of sotto voce profanity followed, bringing him perilously close to losing control and laughing at her outright. One thing was for certain: this was going to be an interesting mission in more ways than one...

* * *

“I was most grieved to hear of your father’s death,” Marrin said, gazing at Aeric with sympathy in her eyes.

She, Obi-Wan, Aeric and two of his most trusted councilors were gathered in his private office to discuss the situation and what best to do about it; the room was small but cozy, furnished with solid wood furniture and decorated in dark, masculine colors. Perched on an over-stuffed chair with her feet barely touching the floor, Marrin looked like a girl come to watch her father at work, but she seemed relaxed.

“Paal was a good man, and I will remember him with love,” she added, causing Obi-Wan to glance over at her, surprised to hear her speak of her feelings so openly; indeed, she had been so closed and distant with him, he’d begun to wonder if she were capable of revealing her emotions at all anymore.

“It is a tragedy,” Aeric agreed, nodding solemnly. “For myself and for our people. But I must put my grief aside for now and concentrate on protecting my family, which is why I claimed sanctuary from the Jedi.”

“We will do everything we can to help, but we can’t guarantee that whoever is behind the assassination attempts will honor the sanctuary,” she told him matter-of-factly.

“But if anyone tries to kill Prince Aeric or any of his family again, he’ll be hunted by us until he is caught and punished,” Obi-Wan spoke up.

“The one who attempts murder and the one who orders it are not the same, Padawan,” Marrin replied without looking at him. “The one who is orchestrating this travesty may feel he is safe from reprisal, thus Aeric claiming sanctuary might not stop him from trying again. We must be on our guards.”

Obi-Wan subsided, feeling suitably chastened, but still a spark of defiance leapt in his chest, and he wanted to remind her that she had said herself that she and Iain suspected they knew who was behind the plot. But, he told himself ruefully, suspecting and knowing aren’t the same things either, and it could reflect badly upon the Jedi if she made any false accusations.

//...sorry...//

The single word resounded clearly in his head, following by the mental equivalent of a comforting caress, and he sneaked a sidelong look at Marrin, who was still apparently focused on Aeric.

Had she...?

He tried to respond, but her mental shields were still as strong as ever, not allowing him access. But still, the barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. This mission was already proving to be beneficial to her whether she cared to admit it or not; being in familiar surroundings where she had obviously once been happy was causing her to slip back into old habits and shed some of the armor she’d built up around herself in recent years. He couldn’t think of any OTHER explanation for why she apologized for chastising him in public--and she certainly wouldn’t have bothered to before.

“I’ll resume my investigation, of course. Now tell me--how did he strike this time?” she was saying, and Obi-Wan brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Much the same as the first attempt,” Aeric replied, his features darkening with suppressed anger. “The assassin chose a time when as many of the family were gathered in one place as possible, and--as before—the assassin killed himself before he could be captured. We had no chance to question him.”

“Who was among you?” she asked, clasped her hands and tapping them against her chin as she gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

“My immediate family,” Aeric said promptly. “Including my mother, her sister and a few extended family members--cousins and such like.”

“What about your uncle?” she asked casually.

“Cladaan? He was taken ill that morning and couldn’t be with us.”

Marrin nodded as if satisfied and rose to her feet; all the men in the room immediately stood up as well, and she extended her hand to Aeric, who took it with an affectionate smile. “Post extra guards around all members of the royal family,” she instructed. “I would like to focus more on finding out who is behind this so we can perhaps prevent a second attempt. I believe that Padawan Kenobi and myself being here will make the killer more cautious, so I hope we have a few days before he works up the courage to try again. Perhaps in that time, we can learn something conclusive.”

She removed her hand from Aeric’s and strode towards the door, pausing only to call one last instruction over her shoulder. “In the meantime, avoid having more than one or two of your family members together at onetime. It seems as if he wishes to remove as many as you as possible with one fell swoop. If you stay separated, his chances are reduced, and he will be less likely to make any attempts.”

With that, she swept out of the room, and Obi-Wan hurried to catch up with her. “Now what?” he asked, determined to help as much as possible.

“Now, young Padawan, we get to work.”

* * *

They spent the remainder of the day questioning the royal family and as many of the guests and servants who were in the palace at the time of the late Prince’s murder as they could. Obi-Wan listened carefully, paid close attention and made notes just as he would have for his own Master in a similar situation. He remained silent, however, leaving Marrin to ask the questions since she had been through this all once before, but he intended to ask some questions once they were alone...

“I hope you don’t think you’re getting the bed.”

...but it appeared Marrin had some questions of her own, he thought with more than a little amusement. He’d followed her into the suite’s bedroom only to talk to her about the investigating they’d done, but apparently she had ascribed other motives to him.

“I AM the senior Jedi here,” she added with a reproachful sniff as if he had indeed dared to insinuate some claim to the bed.

“We could always share,” he suggested innocently, an imp of mischief prompting him to see if he could make her blush--and it worked marvelously.

“YOU will take the chaise in the sitting room,” she ordered haughtily, pointing at the room in question. “I get the bed.”

“Did you remember to ask Aeric if perhaps we could have separate suites?” he asked, still schooling his face in his best “I’m just a sweet, charming boy” expression. “So I can have my own bed?” he added, hoping the note of pathetic wistfulness he injected in his voice wasn’t too over-the-top.

Again, a lovely shade of crimson stained her cheeks, and she mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out about not wanting to embarrass Aeric, perhaps it was better and safer if they stuck together and other such excuses to cover the fact that no, for whatever reason, she had NOT asked. And Obi-Wan would be blasted if HE was going to.

Instead, they spent the evening doing a polite, awkward dance around each other, Marrin trying to pretend she wasn’t nervous and unsettled by him, and Obi-Wan trying to pretend he didn’t care that he would be spending several nights so close and yet so far away from her. Her relief was almost palpable when she bade him good-night, escaped to the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

With a rueful sigh, he stripped off his clothes, letting them fall in a pile on the floor, pulled his sleep shirt over his head and settled on the chaise. It wasn’t too bad--he’d certainly slept in far worse places on many a mission with his Master--but still, he felt his exile keenly, and he wished there was something he could do to bridge the distance between them. But nothing came to mind, so he sighed once more and flipped onto his side, nestling in to sleep.

Some time later, however, neither he nor Marrin had fallen asleep. Obi-Wan could sense her restlessness. There were some things that even her prodigious mental strength couldn’t completely squelch, and the agitation she broadcast had kept him from dropping off. But he had resisted the urge to intrude, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate being made aware that she was “leaking,” especially to him. Instead, he focused inward, settling into a meditative state so he could tune her out and get some rest--and then it happened.

A burst of panic so intense that it nearly tore a scream from his throat.

He bolted upright, scrabbling for his lightsaber, glancing around wildly before he realized that the room was dark and quiet. The source of the silent cry had been Marrin.

//Privacy be blasted,// he thought grimly, marching into the bedroom with steely determination.

He would help her meditate, fetch some sort of medication--anything to help her sleep in peace. But when the bedroom door slid open, Marrin was not pacing the floor as he had expected. No, she was in bed asleep, but far from tranquil. She was thrashing fitfully, tossing her head back and forth, her face drawn in taut lines, her fists clenched, and she was whimpering softly, words that weren’t coming out quite like words.

A nightmare...

A nightmare so strong and intense that Obi-Wan had been able to pick up on the horror Marrin’s own mind was inflicting on her. Hurrying to the bed, he didn’t hesitate to crawl in beside her and pull her into an embrace, trying to still her agitated movements. He cradled her against his chest, coaxing her into resting her head on his shoulder and stroking her back soothingly as he would have a small child who was in need of comfort.

“It’s not real,” he murmured, reinforcing his words mentally as well in hopes that in sleep her shields were not strong enough to keep him out completely. “It’s only a dream. There’s nothing here to harm you, not while I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Safe...” Her tone was questioning as if her dream-self didn’t quite believe him, but he could feel the tension begin to drain out of her body; she stopped trying to fight off invisible attackers, and her fists uncurled slightly.

Releasing a long, shuddery sigh, Marrin seemed to drift slowly out of the nightmare and into a more peaceful sleep; she went limp in his arms, but when he tried to release her, she whimpered and reached out for him.

//Well, there are worse fates,// he thought, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. //She’ll want kill me, of course, but I’ll just have to tell her the truth: she didn’t want me to go.//

Slowly, careful not to wake her, he arranged himself and her so that they lay facing each other, and he curved his arms around her protectively; Marrin nestled close, burying her face against his neck and sighing again, this time a distinctly pleased sound. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt rather pleased himself; this was the few times she’d allowed him to get close--and then doubt assailed him. Was it really him she was responding to, or was she wrapped in a dream where Iain comforted her?

“Marrin...?” he whispered.

“Mm?” She shifted a little, draping one arm across his waist with slow, languid movements.

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Mm-hhm...”

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he held her silently a moment, hesitant to ask the one question that burned in his mind. He wanted to be the one she thought of, the one she dreamed of, but it seemed as if the spectre of Iain loomed between them, and she was the only one who could dispel it.

“Who do you see now?” he asked softly, his need to know overpowering his reticence. “Whose arms do you want to be in? Tell me his name.”

There was only silence, and he began to think she’d already drifted into too deep a sleep to respond, and then her voice floated up to him, so faint and sleep-blurred that he had to strain to make it out.

“Obi-Wan...”

* * *

Marrin woke slowly for once; Jedi usually went from sleep to complete alertness in the blink of an eye--they had to. Often times, it meant the difference between life and death. But even Jedi could sleep peacefully when they didn’t feel threatened, and Marrin was feeling safer and more content than she had in years. She was aware of a warm body snuggled close to hers, of being wrapped securely in someone’s arms as they lay together like spoons, and part of her was reluctant to move even though she knew there was work to be done.

All she had to do was roll over, she thought foggily, and she could slip her arms around him, perhaps nuzzle his smooth cheek, then wake him with a kiss and see the moment when he first opened those sleepy blue-green eyes.

Blue-green...?

No, brown. And there was supposed be a beard...No. No, the brown eyes she’d thought of had been closed forever. But to her surprise, that thought didn’t bother her half as much as the realization that Iain had NOT been the man uppermost in her mind. Her first thought had been of Obi-Wan. Was she forgetting Iain? Was she betraying his memory with this youngster? How had this happened--?

The nightmare...She remembered the nightmare and how she had dreamed that Obi-Wan had comforted her. Apparently it hadn’t been a dream at all. Still, why had she thought of Obi-Wan at all? Why not Iain...?

Carefully, she eased out of Obi-Wan’s arms, trying not to wake him--in vain. No sooner had she begun to slip away from him when he woke, instantly alert, and he snaked one arm around her waist, pinning her against him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his light baritone voice husky with sleep.

“Nothing,” she lied, squirming a little to wriggle free of his embrace, but he tightened his grip, and nothing short of an all-out tussle would free her.

//Of course, that could be fun,// one part of her traitorous mind whispered.

“Then why are you trying to get away from me?”

She closed her eyes and released a frustrated snort. “We’ve got a killer to find, remember?”

“Of course I do, but I thought we should talk about a few things first. I’ve got some questions,” he replied with annoying pragmatism.

“It’d be easier if we were both upright,” she retorted.

“But not as much fun.”

She could hear the mischief lacing his words--and then he nearly made her melt into the mattress when he unexpectedly nuzzled the nape of her neck. Hastily she rolled onto her back, trying to put some distance between them, but he merely followed, levering himself over her and bracing himself on his elbows on either side of her head; she placed her hands on his chest, ostensibly to push him away, but somehow she found herself sliding them up to caress his shoulders instead.

“You forget yourself, Padawan.” It was supposed to be a rebuke, but she suspected the breathy quality in her voice undercut its effectiveness considerably.

“No...” Dimples winked in his cheeks as he flashed her an impish grin. “It would be impossible for me to forget myself right now.”

An eternal moment spun out between them, and it occurred to her that he was waiting for her to make the next move; there they were in an intimate position, and things could easily take a passionate turn. All she had to do was let him know she wanted him...

If she’d found herself in this situation a few days before, she would have gotten angry and unceremoniously pushed him away, not caring how the blunt rejection affected him. Now, however, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and she sought for an easier way of extricating herself from having to make a decision she wasn’t ready to face.

A burst of inspiration struck, and she felt a wicked grin wreath her face as she slipped her hands down his body--and began letting her fingers dance along his ribs. Obi-Wan practically leapt straight up in the air—an amazing feat considering he was horizontal--and yelled in outrage at the unexpected tickle-onslaught; Marrin burst out laughing, enjoying his indignation immensely--until he retaliated by grabbing a pillow and whacking her with it. An all-out pillow fight erupted, and by the time it ended, they were both out of breath but giggling.

“So what exactly does ‘teyo’ mean anyway?” Obi-Wan asked once he’d recovered enough to speak; they were both still sprawled on the bed, but the tension between them had dispersed, and they were simply lounging together in a comfortable, relaxed manner.

“You mean ‘teya’?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Teyo. Daana asked if she could call me Teyo Wan.”

“She did, did she.” Marrin regarded him with an amused smile. “I suppose she thinks we should be married since we’re here together.”

“She said you like me,” he added, smirking as he poked her arm playfully.

“She talks too much,” she grumbled in mock-annoyance.

“So what does it mean?” he repeated, obviously not going to let the subject go, and she stuffed a pillow behind her, propping herself up against it as they talked.

“‘Short man with a strange haircut’.” She managed to keep a complete straight face as she said that, no mean feat when he gave her a mock-insulted look in return.

“It does NOT!” he protested, trying to appear deeply wounded.

“No, no. You’re right. That’s not what it means. It really means, ‘little man with a big lightsaber’.”

“Oh, and how would you know about THAT?” he teased, and she felt heat sting her cheeks.

“‘Skinny boy who needs a shave’,” she retorted sharply, then squealed when he leaned over and rubbed his beard-stubbled chin against her neck.

Pushing him away, she rolled out of bed and backed up to a safe distance, trying to ignore the fact that he looked far too delicious as he lay in bed with the sheets tangled around his hips, lounging in a pose that said he knew exactly what sort of temptation he presented.

“My turn,” she announced, clearing her throat and glancing out the nearest window to avoid staring. “You’re better at sensing the future than I am. Have you felt anything?”

“Other than a vague, general disturbance in the Force? No,” he answered regretfully. “Nothing I can pin down with any accuracy right now.” He paused, then added, “Although I get the feeling you already have a suspect in mind.”

“I do.” She nodded confirmation. “Who is it and why do you think I suspect this person?”

“Aeric’s uncle, Cladaan,” he replied promptly. “Your questioning centered mostly around him, and I remember Aeric said he was the only member of the royal family not present during the assassination.”

“Very good, Padawan.” She nodded approvingly. “Yes, Cladaan is my most likely suspect.”

“Why don’t you know for certain? Didn’t you or Iain talk to him the last time? One moment in his presence, and either of you should have known--”

“He was most skilled at the art of avoidance,” she interrupted, cutting him off with a wave of her hand before he could dredge up anymore memories of her last visit to Danebe. “I’m sure he’ll try to stay as far away from us as possible this time, too, but we have to find some way to track him down. He’s behind all this--Iain was certain of it, and now I am too.”

* * *

//Marrin was right about one thing,// Obi-Wan thought as he peered through the night-vision binoculars at Cladaan’s home from his vantage point on a neighboring rooftop. //This fellow IS adept at the art of evasion.//

Cladaan’s “illness” had kept him from court for three days, and during that time, Marrin had insisted that they be seen with different members of the royal family as much as possible to make Cladaan think they were acting as bodyguards. They posted reliable spies, however, and took over surveillance of him themselves at night, taking turns sleeping and keeping watch. Obi-Wan had suggested splitting up, one of them keeping an eye on Cladaan while the other rested or looked after Aeric and his family, but the sheer panic he’d seen flash across her face at the idea had convinced him it wasn’t a good one.

“I won’t die just because you take your eyes off me for two seconds,” he had assured her, keeping his tone kind rather than reproving, but she shook her head.

“I know,” she had whispered, lowering her gaze to the floor. “At least part of me knows, but the other part...” she trailed off as if she couldn’t bring herself to voice the rest.

“Doesn’t want history to repeat itself,” he finished for her, and she nodded without looking at him. “I’d never deliberately hurt you. You must know that, Marrin.”

She had nodded again and--quite unexpectedly—moved over to him, slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “If I lost you too...”

Her words had been almost too faint for him to hear, but not quite, and he had smiled, pleased with this new revelation. Cupping her chin in his fingers, he had tilted her face up and touched his lips to hers, coaxing her into a warm, lingering kiss--one of quiet affection rather than passion--and he had been the one to break it off, a fact which said more to him about her feelings than perhaps she cared to admit aloud.

And so he had stayed with her.

Despite the fact that being around Aeric, Daana and the rest of the family seemed to have helped her become more relaxed than he’d ever seen her, he knew just being in this place was dredging up old, painful memories, and he didn’t want to make things worse. Now they were staked out on a rooftop, and not only was he cold, but he was also hungry; he refused to mention it to her, however, since she would probably only snort, “So what else is new?” and then tease him about being a growing boy.

Marrin scooted to sit closer to him as a chilly night wind whipped around them; he could feel her shivering even though she had her robe wrapped tightly around her, and he draped his arm across her shoulders, letting their now-conjoined body heat create a pocket of warmth between them.

“Do you sense anything at all?”

“Not so far,” he replied vaguely, keeping his eyes trained on the windows.

“Good.” Her voice was low as if she were talking more to herself than to him. “Glad it’s not just me.”

He lowered the binoculars and gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Folding her arms around her middle, she hugged herself as she stared blankly out into the night. “I don’t trust myself anymore,” she admitted quietly. “I’m not as attuned to the Force as I was once. It’s because of my shields--cutting myself off like I have,” she added, slanting a rueful look at him. “That, and my fear. It’s holding me back. Gaela once said I’ll never advance to the level of Master unless I can let go, but--” She drew in a deep, shuddery breath and released it slowly. “It’s so difficult! Pair-bonding is much stronger than the bond between a Master and Padawan. It goes deeper, and its effects are far-ranging. I’m afraid to let anyone get close again, afraid of suffering that same agony all over again. I don’t even want to take a Padawan because of it.”

“But life is all about taking risks,” he countered. “If you can’t accept that, then you shouldn’t be a Jedi in the first place. But even if you were living a so-called normal life, you wouldn’t be safe. Life isn’t safe, Marrin, no matter where or who you are. Either you accept that and start living again, or you keep on merely existing just as you have since Iain died.”

Her dark eyes snapped fire up at him, and she opened her mouth as if to retort--and then abruptly shut it again, nestling closer to him with a grumbling little sigh. “Teyo,” she muttered. “‘An apprentice who’s too blasted smart for his own good’.”

* * *

After another night of fruitless watching, Marrin called for an end to the surveillance.

//It’s no good.// She scowled fiercely as she stormed down the hall headed for the suite they shared. //Either he’s aware that he’s being watched, or he’s not going to make any kind of move until everyone is lulled into a state of complacency once more.//

Obi-Wan blinked, taken aback by her unexpected use of mind-to-mind speech, but he quickly surmised it was merely a safety precaution to prevent them from being overheard rather than a tacit admission of trust on her part.

//You don’t think it could simply be that he’s innocent?// he asked, matching his stride to hers easily.

Tentatively, he reached out, testing the limits of access she would allow him and found that her shields were still strong, still in place. She was allowing free conversation, but that was all. Stopping dead in her tracks, she glanced up at him, her expression completely somber.

//I’d like to think that. I really would,// she told him. //I’ve known Cladaan for years, and it grieves me to think he could be capable of such a thing. But what few instincts that remain to me tell me he’s wrapped up in this somehow.//

//Then what do you suggest we do?//

They began walking again at a slower pace this time; Marrin clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head, appearing to be deep in thought. Obi-Wan tucked his hands into his sleeves and kept a close eye on the hallway and the scant number of passers-by, mostly early risers who gave them curious looks but otherwise went on about their business. It wasn’t that he sensed any danger, but ONE of them had to be mindful of their surroundings, and at the moment, Marrin wasn’t that one.

//We need to draw him out...// she began slowly, nibbling her lower lip, and he was momentarily distracted, wishing he had that privilege as well. //Perhaps a social gathering...That seems to be where he wants to strike most since it will rid him of Aeric and the rest of his family--anyone who could possibly stand between himself and the throne. Yes...Yes.//

She nodded decisively and then abruptly veered around a corner, heading for Aeric’s private wing of the palace. //Come, Padawan,// she instructed, raising one hand in a terse beckoning gesture. //We need to speak to the prince about arranging a banquet or such like as soon as possible.//

Suppressing a smile, Obi-Wan kept pace with her, pleased by her automatic inclusion of him in the planning. She was a Jedi Knight, he a Padawan; she was also his elder by well over ten years. By rights she could have left him out, told him little to nothing except what she thought he needed to know and paid little heed to his council. Instead, she was treating him like an equal. It wasn’t his place to question the actions of those above him, but that didn’t often stop him from doing so. Marrin, however, seemed to mind his “impudence” less and less. Maybe--just maybe--she was finally starting to admit to herself and to him that he was a man, not the boy she had insisted on perceiving him as. If so, that boded well for his chances of finally breaking through all those defenses she’d erected and getting to know the real Marrin Dain...

* * *

The low thrum of conversation wafted around Obi-Wan as he leaned back in his chair, only three seats away from Aeric himself; he was, in fact, seated between Aeric’s wife and Daana, whose friendly chattering had provided him with a cover. Appearing to be intent on her every word, he’d been able to keep a close but surreptitious eye on Cladaan.

Cladaan himself was seated on Aeric’s left—against Obi-Wan and Marrin’s objections. Neither of them liked their primary suspect being so close to his intended victim, but Aeric had refused to believe that his uncle could be guilty of any wrong-doing, and nothing either of them said convinced him to take even the slightest precaution. Marrin had grumbled that she had been tempted to use a mind trick on him to get him to cooperate, but it would’ve been a misuse of power.

Instead, they’d vowed to keep a close watch on Cladaan. Marrin was seated at Aeric’s right--a demand he’d grudgingly agreed to even though he was angry with her for implicating his uncle, which was when their discussion had turned puzzling for Obi-Wan.

“You’ve been gone too long to know the inner workings of things, Marrin,” Aeric had declared, his tone icy. “Cladaan has done everything possible to assist me during this time of difficult transition.”

“It is true that I have no place here,” Marrin had replied, her voice calm and her gaze steadily fixed on Aeric. “However, I have forgotten nothing, nor have my feelings changed--Teyo Aeric,” she added pointedly.

At that, Aeric had softened, offering a conciliatory smile. “You’ll always have a place here,” he told her kindly, but she shook her head.

“My family are the Jedi. My home is the Temple,” she said, returning his smile affectionately. “But I do not forget.”

//Forget what...?// Obi-Wan had wondered, making a note to ask her about this inscrutable exchange later.

But they had been too busy preparing for the banquet Aeric had agreed to host, ostensibly in their honor for “capturing” the assassin. Arranging for a false--and very public--arrest, Aeric, his most trusted councilors, Marrin and Obi-Wan had created the illusion that the crime was solved, and now the successful detectives were to be thanked and congratulated by the ruler they had managed to protect. Marrin and Obi-Wan hoped this would lead Cladaan to be careless, but so far—

A tiny ripple in the Force. Danger. Nearby.

Barely perceptible, but enough to make Obi-Wan shove all extraneous thoughts out of his head as he sat up straight and swept his gaze around the room, searching to pinpoint the source. Allowing his instincts to guide him, he turned to Aeric, who was in the process of accepting a cup of wine from a tray...a tray that Cladaan was offering him. Poison...

Aeric lifted the cup and held it aloft, smiling broadly as he rose to address his guests. The Force rose within Obi-Wan, filling him, guiding him as he released himself to it, and he found himself on his feet.

“I beg Your Highness not to drink.” His voice rang out loud and strong, more of a command than a request, and Aeric gave him an irritated glare.

“You overstep yourself, Jedi. I will drink.”

Aeric raised the cup to his lips, and without thinking, Obi-Wan threw out his hand, using the Force to knock the cup away, its contents spilling on the floor. Two men cried out simultaneously--Aeric in surprise and Cladaan in outrage.

“A trap...” Cladaan hissed as soon as he realized his involuntary reaction had betrayed him.

Darting a malevolent glare between Obi-Wan and Marrin, he snarled and, pulling a blaster out of a hidden holster, he leaped away from the table, firing at Aeric. Obi-Wan lunged forward, knowing he was too far away--and then he felt a surge of relief at the sight of Marrin’s lightsaber deflecting the shot.

But it was short-lived. The royal family and their guests had recovered enough from the shock to react with sheer, blind panic. Wild screams echoed, bouncing off the walls of the spacious room, and footsteps pounded on the marble floor as people stampeded to escape. Only a few remained cool-headed, including most of the royal family. Obi-Wan grabbed Daana and Aeric’s wife, tersely instructing them to take cover under the table; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marrin shoving Aeric unceremoniously out of the way before taking off after Cladaan herself.

Palace guards had mobilized into action, trying to exert some amount of crowd control while at the same time trying to capture Cladaan and guard the family, but he kept disappearing in the teeming throng, and Obi-Wan was fearful that he would escape. Once he had assured himself the family were safe, he scanned the room, searching for Cladaan and Marrin--and finally spotted them near the far exit; Marrin had somehow managed to get between him and the door, but the nearest guards were still too far away and too preoccupied with the hysterical guests to help.

Cladaan fired shot after shot at her, stalking forward all the while, forcing her to back up as she deflected each deadly blast, but even at a distance, Obi-Wan could tell that she was using defensive moves only. Something was holding her back, keeping her from moving against him, and Cladaan knew it. He was pressing his advantage, and if she didn’t stop him now, he would escape.

Reaching out with his mind, Obi-Wan tried to communicate with her, tried to figure out what was wrong, but deep down, he knew: the ghosts of the past were haunting her still. Here was the man who had killed her lover, yet she still harbored such guilt about failing Iain and such doubt about her own abilities without the pair bond that the Force could not work through her and help her in this battle. She was losing--badly. Mustering every ounce of mental strength he possessed, Obi-Wan focused completely on getting just one thought to her--a mental “yell” that she couldn’t possibly ignore.

//MARRIN!//

Across the room, he saw her flinch, and he knew she had heard. A moment later, he felt the tentative touch of her mind to his, and he moved into action. He’d apologize later if she demanded it, but now was not the time to be subtle. Closing his eyes and centering himself, he entered her mind, flowing easily into that black void where Iain once had been.

//Now, Marrin,// he told her firmly. //Now is the moment when you decide. Will you be a Jedi once again, or will you let this man turn you into a coward?//

//I--can’t!//

He felt her despair as keenly as if it were his own, and as much as it pained him to be ruthless in the face of her agony, he knew what had to be done.

//You can and you will--otherwise, you might as let him kill you now, for you’ll already be dead in your heart. You’ve allowed him to hurt you for too long. Honor Iain--fight!//

There was a moment of utter silence, of utter stillness--and then an inarticulate cry rang out in his head, followed by an image of Marrin pushing over a huge wall, her face grimly determined. He could feel the shields crumbling inside her head, could feel her opening herself to the Force again. Slowly he withdrew, leaving her to fight this battle alone as she needed to do.

The guards had managed to herd most of the guests to safety, thinning the room of people somewhat, and Obi-Wan began threading his way to where Marrin and Cladaan fought; now he could see that the tide had turned. Marrin was no longer merely warding off his shots; she had begun to retaliate, deflecting them back towards him so that he was becoming less reckless and firing less often. Instead, it was he who now scuttled backwards while Marrin paced steadily towards him, her expression one of intense concentration.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Obi-Wan found himself wanting to cheer; he could feel the power of the Force radiating around her, something he hadn’t sensed from her before. She was finally reclaiming her skills, her own abilities. Suddenly, she whirled into an unexpected attack move, lunging at Cladaan, scoring his arm and forcing him to drop his weapon. With a frightened cry, he tried to turn, to run, but with a casual motion of her hand, she sent him sprawling on the floor. Slowly, deliberately, she walked over to where Cladaan lay cowering, obviously expecting a death blow.

Lowering her lightsaber, she held it unwaveringly at his throat. Obi-Wan could see fury clouding her features, knowing how badly she must want to administer the death blow herself, and he caught his breath, wanting to call out, but again, this was a battle she had to fight herself. If she killed Cladaan, it could mean taking her first step onto the Dark path...

And then she raised her lightsaber up, holding it in front of her as if in salute for a moment before deactivating it and hooking it on her belt.

“Don’t think I‘m not tempted to kill you,” she said in a deceptively soft, mild voice. “I choose not to. Your judgment will come at other hands and your punishment will be meted out by those who have been more wronged by you than I have. I am merely the instrument of justice who delivers you to them.”

At the table, Aeric gestured to the guards surrounding him, and three of them hurried over to take Cladaan into custody, hauling him unceremoniously to his feet and dragging him away. Aeric watched silently, his face pale and drawn.

“I...apologize for doubting you,” he said softly when Marrin and Obi-Wan approached him. “I should have known better.”

“To be honest, we weren’t entirely certain ourselves,” Marrin admitted, folding her arms and tucking her hands into her sleeves.

Beside her, Obi-Wan stood quietly, basking in the aura now surrounding her; the agitation he’d always sensed from her hadn’t completely dissipated, but it was reduced considerably, and now he also sensed a growing peace within her. And her shields were all but gone.

“He eluded us, thus we decided to try to lure him into revealing himself,” she continued.

“Nonetheless, I owe you my life,” Aeric said, reaching out to enfold her in an embrace which she returned with equal warmth. “We both got second chances today,” she murmured, then glanced over at Obi-Wan.

//Thank you.//

//My pleasure,// he replied, feeling a surge of hope for a future that would bring the two of them closer at last.

* * *

“I’ve asked the Council if I might take a leave, and they’ve agreed.”

Marrin gazed up at Obi-Wan somberly, a question lurking in the depths of her eyes as she searched his face, seeming to seek a reaction, and he nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I’ll be staying here for at least another week.”

He lifted both eyebrows, surprised by this news; he had assumed that she would want to return to the Temple as soon as possible, to escape this place. If she wanted to take a vacation, there were other places which didn’t hold such tragic associations for her.

“I need some time to meditate and refocus myself,” she added, resting one hand on the pommel of her lightsaber, her fingers idly caressing the cool metal.

“But surely the Temple--” he began, but she cut him off with a wave.

“My break from the Force began here. It seems fitting that I begin to heal here as well. Besides...” She paused, a slight smile curving her mouth. “I’d like to spend some time with Aeric and his family.”

“But why?” Obi-Wan asked, his features scrunched with bewilderment. He didn’t understand why she would choose to rest and recuperate among people who were virtual strangers rather than among her adopted family among the Jedi.

“Haven’t you realized it yet?” Her expression was amused but kind as she began to explain. “Danebe is my homeworld. Aeric is my cousin three or four times removed. I forget, exactly. My father was one of Paal’s councilors, and my parents lived in the palace. They had an estate, of course, but it was more convenient for my father to be here. When I visited them, I came here. Now they’re dead, and Aeric is the closest thing I have left to a family--by blood,” she amended when she saw another frown forming between his brows.

A light dawned in Obi-Wan’s head. “So ‘teyo’ means you’re family.”

“It’s a kin marker.” She nodded, visibly pleased that he’d made the connection on his own. “An honorific applied to people who aren’t part of one’s immediate family but who share a loose bond of kinship. Apparently you’ve been adopted,” she added wryly, slanting a mischievous look up at him.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to scuffle his feet. He longed to ask if she wanted him to stay with her, but he didn’t want to push too hard or too quickly. She might be recovering from her heart-wounds, but she was still prickly around the edges, and he wasn’t certain where he stood with her.

Glancing down at the floor and then back up at his face, she gazed at him almost shyly. “You can stay here or go back to the Temple. It’s your decision.”

He hesitated, wanting to touch her, to establish some sort of connection, but doubt held him back.

“Has Master Qui-Gon returned?”

“No.” She shook her head, still watching him intently. “There’s been no word on when he’ll be back.”

“Then I’ll stay here,” he said firmly.

Taking a chance, he reached out and caught her hand, raising it to a kiss; her reaction would tell him much about whether he was welcome to stay or not. The moment his lips touched her skin, she sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening slightly, and he smiled, flashing his dimples at her.

He was welcome.

“With you,” he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“I’ll be spending a great deal of time in meditation,” she said, her voice sounding a trifle breathless. “I wouldn’t want you to be bored.”

“I’ll find something to occupy my time,” he replied, lifting her hand to rest it against his cheek, and he felt her fingers move in a light caress. “Besides, it might be good for you to have another Jedi around.”

“As you wish.”

With that, she gently disengaged her hand from his and left him, sequestering herself in the bedroom of their shared suite. For the better part of five days, she remained in there alone in a state of deep meditation. Obi-Wan intruded on her sanctuary only to bring meals; most of the time, she didn’t even seem to notice he was there. He found her in the same position each time: kneeling on the floor, her robe a pool of fabric around her, her eyes closed.

He could feel the energy of the Force crackling around her, and he sensed that not only was she trying to re-attune herself to the Force but she was also attempting to heal her mind and her heart. Once or twice, she peeked at him when he slipped inside the room bearing a tray of food, smiling slightly in acknowledgment before closing her eyes against and resuming her meditation, but most of the time she seemed too deeply in a trance-state to respond.

Left to his own devices, Obi-Wan spent his time roaming the palace, the grounds and the city, exploring and absorbing as much as he could; Cladaan’s political greed aside, Danebe seemed like a peaceful world with life being taken at a slower pace than on Coruscant. Comparing to the bustle of Coruscant, Danebe was positively a rural backwater, but he found it restful. At Marrin’s advice, he had set aside his Jedi uniform for a while, simply being Obi-Wan the man--and curious tourist--instead of Obi-Wan the Padawan learner.

“Your training won’t suffer if you take a few days off at this point,” she had pointed out before she’d gone into seclusion. “And if you really feel guilty, ask Aeric to introduce you to the Arms Master. He’ll be glad to give you a workout, I’m sure.”

Dreading having to tell Master Qui-Gon that he’d spent the better part of a week lolling about, Obi-Wan had indeed sought out the Arms Master, a grizzled warrior who made up in skill, experience and cunning for what he lacked in Jedi reflexes. It was after one such session that he bounded into the suite, brimming over with energy the challenging duel had given him, beginning to peel off his clothes as soon as the door slid shut behind him.

Accustomed to being alone, he didn’t even look around before pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall carelessly to the floor, reaching for the fastenings of his trousers as he headed to the bathing room, ready to wash away the heat and sweat caused by the workout.

An unexpected ripple in the Force--a mental nudge not unlike someone clearing their throat to get attention--made him freeze in his tracks. Startled, he glanced up to see Marrin standing near the window, watching him somberly.

“You’ve come out of hiding.” He flashed her a teasing grin as he strode across the room to her, reaching out to clasp her hands and giving them an affectionate squeeze.

“Yes. I’ve done all I can for now. The rest will have to unfold at its own pace,” she replied, tugging her hands free.

His brows knit together, and he took a hesitant step forward, but getting that close to her--it was like walking into a wall. He could feel the barrier she was keeping between them, and disappointment sliced his heart; he had thought after she began to heal, she wouldn’t be so cold and distant, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“So tell me. What have I missed?” Her tone was light and casual, and she walked away from him as she spoke, moving to retrieve his shirt, folding it up neatly and placing it on the couch.

//Just like a mother,// he thought with a grimace--and then an epiphany struck.

Just like a mother indeed.

She was shielding against him--a light probe told him that much--and she was also keeping distance between them by taking on a role that she perceived would be safe. In her mind, she was relegating him to the status of a little boy to be humored and looked after--AGAIN. She had tried that when they first met, and he had thought he’d convinced her of the absurdity of such a notion. He was younger than she, yes, but he wasn’t a child, and he had no desire to be treated like one, not by her or anyone else.

“A great many grand dinners, boring political speeches and necessary diplomatic dancing about. Cladaan will be tried soon, Aeric is still brimming over with gratitude, and that blasted Arms Master of his MUST secretly be a Sith,” he replied, careful to keep his tone neutral.

Perhaps he could work on breaking through this illusion again...

“Trounced you, did he?” she asked, sounding amused.

“No, but it was far too close at times,” Obi-Wan admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “Master Qui-Gon will have my head for it.”

“‘Did you forget all I taught you, Padawan’?” Marrin intoned solemnly in a credible imitation of the Jedi Master. “‘Be mindful of the moment, and let the Force guide you’.”

“I keep forgetting you know him so well,” he said, laughing at her all-too-accurate mimicry. “How long--?”

“Twenty years, thereabouts.” She shrugged negligently. “I was around fourteen when I met him, Mace--and Iain. My Master was a friend of theirs.” Pausing, she allowed her lips to quirk upward in a bemused smile. “Oddly enough, I was infatuated with Qui-Gon first. I hardly realized Iain existed.”

“Did you ever...?” Obi-Wan waggled his eyebrows mischievously, and she laughed, swatting his arm playfully.

“And why should I tell you? So you can tease him about it and so he can be irritated with me for unearthing ancient history?” She shook her head. “No, we were never lovers. He knew I suffered the agonies of young love over him, and he was very kind, but he saw me as the child I was. A few years passed, I grew up, I remained friends with Qui-Gon, I noticed Iain at last--and he noticed me.”

“And now?” Obi-Wan bent his knees slightly so that he was more level with her, his blue-green eyes boring into hers intently. “What do you notice now?”

“I...” She trailed off, glancing away, not quite fidgeting. “I notice you need to get dressed.”

“I need to take a shower.” He dropped his voice to an inviting purr, leaving the question unspoken but oh, so obviously hanging between them.

“Obi-Wan...” Sighing, she backed away from him, folding her arms tightly around her middle. “Please don’t. I have no wish to...hurt you, but I can’t possibly--”

She bit the words off, but he took up the gauntlet; since she had opened the topic they’d both been dancing around since the day they met, he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to settle matters once and for all.

“You can’t possibly what? Care for me? I think it’s too late for that,” he countered.

“So sure of yourself, are you?” She scowled at him. “This is impossible. You must know that. You’re too young for me.”

“Iain could have said the same of you.”

The words were quietly spoken, but she flinched nonetheless.

“That’s different.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, carrying little conviction.

“No, there is no difference except that Iain was willing to open his heart to whoever could fill it with love, even if that person was a Padawan well over twenty years his junior,” he snapped, anger rising within him at her stubbornness.

There was nothing keeping them apart but her own fear--still. She may have exorcised some of the ghosts haunting her, but there were some that she had not laid to rest even now.

“At least there’s not so great a gap between OUR ages,” he added. “But that doesn’t matter to you, does it? You’re still determined to see me as a child.”

“You ARE!” she cried desperately, and he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

“Only in your mind, Marrin,” he growled. “Out here in the real world, I’m an adult--a man who could care for you if you’d let him.”

With a shattered cry, she wrenched herself free of his grasp and fled to a safe distance; when she faced him again, her eyes were filled with so much pain that he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and assure her everything would be all right, that he would never let any harm come to her. But such assurances weren’t his to make, and she wouldn’t have allowed him anyway.

“You don’t understand...You can’t possibly understand...”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “I don’t. If Iain loved you as you say he did, then you know he wouldn’t want you to hide yourself away and never love again. That’s not honoring his memory, that’s being a coward.”

“Ah, the voice of wisdom speaks,” she sneered. “Little boy with so much experience in the ways of the world. What do you know about it? Have you even been in love before?”

He watched her silently a moment, stinging from her scornful words. Not even when he was a child had anyone patronized him in such a way, and at that moment, he felt the utter futility of arguing further. She had made up her mind, and nothing he could say or do would change anything.

He had lost.

Gathering his dignity around him like a cloak, he drew himself upright and stared down at her with his best neutral gaze, determined to give nothing more away to be used as a weapon against him.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low and intense. “I have, and it ended badly. But I won’t let it stop me from loving again if I meet someone as special as I thought she was. I’ll simply remember that not every woman is bitter and afraid.”

With that, he quietly dressed without looking or speaking to her again, then he gathered up his things and left the suite; Aeric provided him with a shuttle without asking any questions, for which he was grateful, and within the hour, he was on his way back home.

* * *

“Is something troubling you, my Padawan?” Qui-Gon clasped his hands behind his back as he strolled over to stand next to Obi-Wan on the wide balcony outside their shared quarters.

It had been nearly a week since Obi-Wan had returned from Danebe, and two days since his Master had arrived home himself; Qui-Gon had said little about his journey, remaining tight-lipped about what had occurred while he was on his home planet, and Obi-Wan had respected his silence--especially since HE wasn’t keen on discussing what had happened during his little excursion either.

Obi-Wan sighed and leaned against the rail, relaxing his posture as he searched for an answer that would satisfy his Master and still ring true. Before he could string the words together, however, Qui-Gon spoke again, directing his gaze out at the bustling city-scape below rather than at his apprentice.

“I was informed that Marrin arrived from Danebe today.” His tone was casual, as if he were merely commenting on the weather. “Your training with her went well while I was gone, I hope.”

“It was fine,” he replied tersely. “She’s not as challenging as you are, Master.”

“She wasn’t meant to be.”

“Then WHY?” Obi-Wan whirled to face his Master, his fists clenching in frustration. “Why did you send me to her? Why didn’t you just let Master Windu spar with me? He handled every other aspect of my training!”

Qui-Gon lifted his eyebrows slightly but gave no other outward sign of reaction. “Why are you having this outburst?”

“I--”

Raking one hand through his spiky hair, Obi-Wan released a long sigh, struggling to balance his emotions once more.

“I don’t know, Master,” he replied when he felt himself calm enough to speak rationally. “Forgive me. It was uncalled for. It’s not my place to question your decisions when it comes to my training.”

“No apology is required, Obi-Wan.”

A glance at Qui-Gon showed him that a very small but distinctly pleased smile accompanied that amiable tone, and Obi-Wan frowned slightly, puzzled. Normally, his Master would have taken his head off with just a few soft words for such a petulant display of temper, so why not this time...?

Then Master Qui-Gon rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze before turning and sauntering away, pausing only long enough to deliver one parting remark.

“Especially since I believe the outburst had nothing to do with your training whatsoever.”

Obi-Wan felt his face burn as the implications of that off-hand comment sank in: Master Qui-Gon knew how he felt about Marrin.

Or how he HAD felt, he corrected hastily. He was no longer foolish enough to think that he cared for her. How could he when she did nothing but reject him? A person had to have limits. He couldn’t just keep battering himself bloody against those walls she’d built around herself; she was determined to see him--to treat him--as a little boy.

Fine.

If that’s what she wanted, fine. There were other women. He was young, and he had plenty of time to find someone who’d appreciate him, he thought with no little amount of self-righteous self-pity.

And then he shook his head, disgusted with himself for whining. They were at cross-purposes, that was all. He saw her as someone he could care for and whom he wanted to be with, and she saw him as a pesky child whom she was constantly having to shoo from underfoot. Well, he wouldn’t bother her any longer! he decided with a resolute nod, pivoting sharply on his heel to march back inside and see what lessons were in store for him that evening, determined to ignore the aching ball of loneliness and hurt nestled deep in his soul.

It wasn’t until much later that he realized Master Qui-Gon had never answered his question, but by then, he’d convinced himself he didn’t care enough to ask again.

Marrin Dain was officially part of his past.

* * *

Qui-Gon strolled at his leisure around the rock garden, taking in the peaceful atmosphere with all of his senses and letting himself become immersed in the Now even as he headed for a specific location in the garden. A small, nostalgic smile quirked his lips as he remembered something his Master had once told him: “The journey is often more important than the destination.”

It had taken him a while to figure out she wasn’t referring to physical travel, but since then, he’d put the lesson to good use, especially now. There was no need for him to hurry, and this place held special memories for him which he took pleasure in recalling.

All along the path, stones of various sizes and textures lined the way—some smooth, some porous, some plain tan or grey, some in more exotic colors or clearly lined with layers to mark the passage of time and pressure. Many also bore scorch marks. Since it had so much to offer in terms of cover and places to test one’s agility, the garden was a popular place to practice combat skills, which meant the rocks had taken their share of damage from lightsabers. Qui-Gon paused and rested his hand against the smooth, cool surface of one tall boulder, then traced the outline of an old rut; images of the times he and Yaniko had spent training here flooded back, and he wondered if perhaps this weather-worn ‘saber score belonged to one of them. Not likely, but he preferred to think maybe it was so.

He continued on, following the winding trail until he reached a small clearing which housed a long marble bench—and where he found Marrin already waiting for him.

She glanced up when she sensed his approach, and for one long moment, their gazes met and held, neither looking away, neither giving any indication whether this meeting was a pleasure or a burden.

And then she smiled and rose to her feet, extending both hands to him in a warm greeting. Answering her smile with one of his own, Qui-Gon clasped her hands and gave them a brief squeeze. That she had asked to see him had been less of a surprise than it might have been considering her recent involvement with his Padawan, but she had given no indication of whether she truly wanted to see him after all this time or not. Even when he had asked her to help with Obi-Wan’s training, the arrangements had been made through non-visual messages left for one another, not through actual contact.

“I thought we were long overdue for a talk,” she said, keeping hold of one of his hands and leading him over to the bench. “For many reasons.”

They settled on the bench, and Qui-Gon allowed her to determine how much distance remained between them, resting his hands on his knees as he turned to listen to her. She sat closer than he expected, directing her gaze off in the distance for a moment before speaking at last.

“I’m sorry,” she began simply. “I’ve pushed you away far too long.”

“You weren’t ready,” he replied, his tone quiet and reassuring.

He didn’t blame her for the distance she’d kept between them; she hadn’t been prepared to face her inner demons, and he hadn’t wanted to add to her pain by forcing her into a confrontation. He had simply waited for her to heal on her own time and trusted that their friendship was important enough to her to want to resume it one day.

“No…” She bowed her head, her voice soft. “I couldn’t look at you without seeing Iain by your side—as always.”

“And now?”

“Now I just see you.” She slanted a one-sided smile at him. “Iain’s ghost is gone.”

“Did you ever try to work through this with him? Perhaps if—“

Marrin interrupted him gently. “I reached out to him countless times, and he wouldn’t respond to me. He was gone from me in every way possible.” She paused and tilted her head speculatively. “He probably saw this as a necessary lesson, thus he left me to muddle through on my own.”

“That sounds like something he would do,” he chuckled.

“And this whole situation with Obi-Wan sounds like something YOU would do,” she added tartly.

Qui-Gon raised both eyebrows, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

She flashed a grin at him. “It’s just far too typical of your role. Mace was the pragmatist, Iain was the jester, and you were the romantic.”

“I prefer the idealist or the dreamer,” he replied mildly.

“Doesn’t it all mean much the same?” she countered, giving him an arch look. “You were the heart of the group, and so it doesn’t surprise me that you would try to play match-maker now.”

He threw up both hands in a warding off gesture, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t presume to meddle—“

Marrin laughed outright at that, loudly enough for the peals of mirth to echo off the stones around them. “Oh, do try again, my friend.”

“All right, perhaps the thought that the two of you might suit had crossed my mind,” he conceded with a wry smile.

“How is he?” she asked, her tone gentle and tinged with concern.

“Channeling his pain through meditation and channeling his anger through our sparring sessions,” Qui-Gon stated matter-of-factly. “He is not allowing this to affect his training.”

“Of course not.” She nodded, then fell silent; he waited patiently, then when she said nothing more, he assumed he would have to ask bluntly.

“Why?” He touched her shoulder lightly. “You and Obi-Wan are much alike, and from what little he HAS told me, I know there was a mutual attraction. Why did you push him away?”

Releasing a long, slow sigh, she glanced away, then reluctantly turned her gaze back to him, and he could see hurt and regret lingering in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to,” she admitted quietly. “But I felt I had to. It’s the only way I can keep him safe.”

“Keep him safe? Or yourself?”

“Him,” she replied firmly, and from her tone, Qui-Gon knew she meant exactly what she said. “When Iain and I pair-bonded, a part of him became permanently lodged in my mind. He was literally part of me and I of him. When he died…” She paused, a slight shudder rippling through her.

“When he died,” she continued in a low voice, “that part was…ripped from me. It left a void. The only time I opened my mind completely to Obi-Wan, he flowed into that empty space and filled it; if he hadn’t left as quickly as he did, the foundation of another bond might have been formed.”

She stopped and looked up at him, meeting his eyes squarely, and he felt the blood drain from his face as the implications of her words sank in. If Obi-Wan had become bonded to her…so young…unknowing…unwilling…

“Yes.” Marrin nodded somberly. “Exactly so. I will NOT pair-bond again. Ever. And I will not risk Obi-Wan accidentally getting caught in the trap waiting for him in my mind.”

“There are precautions you could take,” he reminded her gently. “You could keep shields between you.”

“True enough.” She inclined her head to acknowledge his point. “But if we were together, the temptation would always be there. You know how wonderful the intimacy between two Jedi can be.”

Abruptly he saw flashes of himself and Gaela in his memory, remembering how they had joined their minds even as they had joined their bodies during long, languid nights…and afternoons… and mornings…

“Yes,” he replied, smiling dryly. “I know.”

“Well, then. How am I supposed to deny him that? I’ve experienced it. Has he?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. “Obi-Wan is a serious young man when it comes to his training. He does not care for distractions. He has never allowed himself the time for a relationship, but I cannot say how he has spent his free nights.”

“I still wouldn’t want to deny him one of the joys one Jedi can offer another,” she told him. “I can’t give this intimacy to him or to anyone else. From now on, I will remain alone. It’ll be easier that way.”

“And so deny yourself of all companionship? Even on a lesser level?” he asked, surprised by this revelation.

“It’s too dangerous,” she said with a shrug. “For myself and for whomever I chose to become involved with. I’d rather not take the risk.”

“This isn’t fair. Not for you, and not for Obi-Wan.” He fixed her with a stern look. “By taking this decision completely out of his hands, you are treating him like a child rather than like the young man he is. He is capable of understanding the implications of this situation and making up his own mind about what he wants to do. You, however, are denying yourself the pleasure of his company even with restrictions, and you are denying him the chance to decide for himself if he is willing to take the risk.”

She stared at him, her jaw dropping slightly, and then she blinked, obviously taken aback. “I—hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Qui-Gon smiled affectionately at her. “Then I suggest you do. Our lives are by necessity inclined towards solitude, but if an opportunity for—companionship presents itself, then there is no harm in taking it.”

* * *

Sensing his Master’s approach, Obi-Wan hastily picked up a random datapad and frowned at it as if he’d been studying it for hours; he appeared the epitome of concentration when Qui-Gon entered his bedroom, but the knowing smile on his Master’s face said that he wasn’t fooled for a moment. Tossing the datapad aside, Obi-Wan swiveled his chair to face Qui-Gon, looking up at him expectantly.

To his surprise, the older man was dressed casually—one of the few times Obi-Wan had seen him in something other than his Jedi robes—wearing a loose dark green tunic and tan trousers. Qui-Gon leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, folded his arms and crossed his legs at the ankle as he swept his gaze around the small room, taking in the clutter with a long-suffering shake of his head.

Obi-Wan glanced around himself, seeing his bedroom as someone else might, and he had to admit it was a trifle untidy. But he was of the mind that there were more important things to do than dust and fold clothes and make one’s bed.

“When was the last time you changed your sheets?” Qui-Gon asked, a note of amusement lacing his voice.

Obi-Wan drew himself up, radiating self-righteous indignation. “Within the last month.” He paused, then added, “I think.”

Qui-Gon shuddered and moved across the room, nudging a heaped pile of clothes on the floor with the toe of his boot. “You might want to wash these soon. I think I just saw a pair of leggings move of their own accord. If they’re left any longer, they might develop their own advanced, sentient culture.”

“They couldn’t do that!” Obi-Wan protested. “That’s the CLEAN pile! They don’t NEED washing. That’s the pile of dirty laundry over there.” He pointed at a bundle in one corner of the room.

His pale eyes widening slightly, Qui-Gon glanced back and forth between the two piles, then at his apprentice. “How can you tell the difference? I hope not by smell…”

“It’s easy,” he explained as if it were all perfectly reasonable. “The clean clothes don’t have any stains on them.”

He gestured to the tunic on top of the to-be-washed pile, which sported a strange purple stain down the front. He couldn’t quite remember what it was or how it got there; he simply took it as irrefutable evidence that the tunic belonged among the dirty laundry since the stain was too obvious to allow him to get away with wearing it again. He’d considered turning it inside-out, but unfortunately, the stain had seeped through to the other side.

“Well, I hope you’ve got something in the clean pile suitable for dining out with me tonight,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m in the mood for a change from dining hall food.”

“Um…” Obi-Wan jumped up and began rummaging through the stack of clothes while Qui-Gon wandered the room, running his finger over dust-covered surfaces and tsk-ing under his breath.

He let his meticulous Master grumble all he liked until he reached Obi-Wan’s desk. The moment Qui-Gon reached out to sort through the jumble, Obi-Wan sprang up, raced over and smacked his Master’s hands away.

“If you straighten this up, I’ll never find anything again, so just leave it be,” he said firmly—and then abruptly remembered whom he was talking to. “Please,” he added politely. “I know where everything is, and I don’t care to have my system all messed up.”

“This isn’t a system, it’s living chaos,” Qui-Gon retorted, but Obi-Wan ignored him, returning to his clothes and pulling out a black shirt and matching black trousers. “Are those clean?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied, tossing him an indignant look over his shoulder, but he gave the shirt a cautious sniff just in case. Satisfied that the outfit was a bit wrinkled but still serviceable, he displayed it triumphantly. “I’ll be ready in no time.”

* * *

He didn’t think to ask his Master where they were going to eat, and as soon as they arrived at the restaurant, he wished he had: it was the same place he had been with Marrin. A tight ball of misery curled up in his stomach, robbing him of his appetite, and he had to resist the urge to tug Qui-Gon’s sleeve and ask if they could go somewhere else. He was an adult; surely he could face a few memories.

“Is something wrong, my Padawan?”

Obi-Wan peered closely at his Master, searching for any hint that would tell him whether Qui-Gon had brought him here on purpose, but the look he received in return was utterly guileless, and he felt a twinge of shame for being so suspicious. Just because a little niggle in the back of his head accused his Master of playing match-maker didn’t mean it was true.

He opened his mouth to say, “No, nothing,” but what came out instead was, “I was thinking of Marrin. We came here once.”

“Did you indeed. Well, it’s good we’re here, then. It can be a lesson in laying the past to rest for you,” came the calm reply.

Years of training kept him from hunching his shoulders and slinking away, back to the Temple where he could go on avoiding her and pretending he didn’t care just as he had been doing since her return from Danebe. She had tried to contact him several times over the last few days, leaving him messages and tracking him down after practice sessions and meals, but he’d managed to elude her. Fortunately, she had only visited their quarters once, and his Master hadn’t been home at the time, which meant he had been able to get away with the ruse that HE hadn’t been there either.

Tilting his chin up defiantly, he followed Qui-Gon to a nearby table and plopped down, grabbing a menu and studying it with undue intensity. Long moments of silence passed, and while he was accustomed to Qui-Gon’s taciturn nature, he sensed this quiet was different. Sure enough, when he glanced up, he found Qui-Gon watching him intently and rubbing his chin as he always did when speculating over something.

“Yes, my Master?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Is there anything you wish to discuss?”

“No, Master.”

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon’s tone was gentle, his expression kind as he gazed at the younger man. “I’m not speaking to you as your Master for once, but as a friend who would help you if he could. You have gone inside yourself and dealt with your feelings for Marrin alone. I respect your privacy—you know that—but there are some wounds that heal faster if you don’t cover them up to fester.”

“There is nothing to say,” Obi-Wan answered sharply, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “She’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want me in her life in any capacity. I can’t see how talking about it would change anything.”

“Perhaps not.” Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair. “But releasing your emotions aloud might make YOU feel better.”

He remained silent, wavering in uncertainty. His training had taught him to deal with his feelings and release them, but these particular feelings were proving tenacious, and he wasn’t able to let them go easily.

“I’m angry,” he admitted in a low, tight voice. “I’m angry that she dismissed me out of hand because I’m young, that she refused to see me as anything but a bothersome child…” His voice rose, and his hand resting on the table clenched into a fist. “That she wouldn’t give me—give US—a chance because she was afraid of opening her heart to anyone again!”

“Do you think that was her true reason for rejecting you?” Qui-Gon asked, ever the voice of reason. “Or could it have been rationalization to hide something more?”

“Like what?”

“Like fear FOR you.” A new voice entered the conversation, and Obi-Wan twisted in his seat to see Marrin standing behind him in the company of Mace Windu.

“Marrin, Mace.” Qui-Gon rose smoothly to his feet to welcome the new-comers. “A pleasant meeting.”

“I hope so,” Marrin replied to Qui-Gon, but she looked steadily at Obi-Wan as she spoke.

Obi-Wan glanced away, his fingers curling into fists as he struggled to maintain his composure; it galled him that even now he couldn’t look at her without feeling the same old pull, the same old longing to talk to her, to touch her, to be with her. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t gotten over his feelings for her. He’d only managed to dull the pain so that it no longer gouged his heart every waking moment.

To his surprise, he felt the hesitant touch of her fingers against his cheek, gently caressing but reticent as if she knew he might flinch away. He wanted to. He wanted to pull away, to show her that he was indifferent. He wanted to lean against her hand and let her soothe away all the sorrow that had built up between them. Instead he merely sat there, feeling himself freezing from the inside out.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Qui-Gon, but I’m hungry,” Mace announced.

“As am I, my friend,” Obi-Wan heard his Master softly reply. “Shall we find a table elsewhere?”

“I think it would be a good idea. I sense these two aren’t going to be eating anytime soon.” An undercurrent of amusement laced Mace’s voice, but Obi-Wan ignored both Jedi Masters and their too-obvious scheming. He would have a little discussion with Qui-Gon later about this blatant set-up, but for now, he wanted to talk to Marrin alone and get some answers to questions that had been plaguing him since he had left her on Danebe.

As the two older Jedi made their discreet exit, Marrin sat down in the chair Qui-Gon had abandoned. “Do you want to start, or shall I?” she asked quietly, watching his face intently as if trying to gauge his reactions.

“What did you mean—afraid FOR me?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, but the low thrum of anger underlying it was still easily discernable.

“You know about the blank place in my mind.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway; he remembered touching that void when he’d connected with her during the confrontation with Cladaan, remembered feeling cold tendrils pulling at him, sucking him in. “It’s a dangerous thing, Obi-Wan.” Her voice was a mere whisper, her expression intense as she gazed steadily at him. “It could cause a pair-bond to form with someone—anyone—whom I allow to touch my mind too deeply whether they wanted to bond or no. I can’t risk that happening to you.”

He frowned, drawing away from her and leaning back in his chair. “And so you took away EVERY choice? Because I can’t touch your mind, you’re not going to allow me to share any aspect of your life?”

“I thought…” She faltered, lowering her lashes and lacing her fingers together tightly. “I thought the temptation would be too great. I thought if we were together, then one…or both of us…would want more. That the limits would cause problems for us because I can’t give you the kind of special intimacy you could share with any other Jedi.”

He shook his head firmly, not accepting that answer. “No. The truth is, you were making a decision FOR us that we should have discussed and decided upon together. You were treating me like a child again, not giving me credit for being able to make up my own mind about what I wanted with you.”

To his surprise, a slight smile curved her lips. “That’s what Qui-Gon said,” she admitted.

Nodding, Obi-Wan felt a little ripple of pleasure at the thought of his Master standing up for him, arguing on his behalf as an adult. “He was right. If you had asked, I would have told you that I would have considered our relationship worth giving up the deep mental contact for. All I wanted was to be with you.”

“Wanted?” she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his again, and he could see the apprehension lurking in the dark brown depths. “Are your feelings for me dead, then? Is there no hope for a second chance?”

“Why should I believe you want one?” he demanded sharply. “What’s changed since you dismissed me from your life? I’m still the same man.” He paused, then added, “I haven’t gotten any older.”

She winced, visibly stung by the jab, and Obi-Wan clamped his lips together to stifle an apology. He knew his words had been harsh, but part of him wanted her to feel the same biting hurt she had inflicted on him.

“I’m sorry.” She clenched her fingers even tighter together. “I was afraid of forming another bond with you. I don’t want to do that again. I WON’T do that again.”

“More walls between us,” he muttered bitterly, then he rose to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. “All you’re saying is that you decided to give up on us altogether until now when for some reason, you’ve come back, expecting me to forgive and conveniently forget how easily you put me aside not once, but twice. How do I know you won’t do it again? I still don’t know what’s changed for you, and if you want to know the truth, I don’t think ANYTHING has. I think you’ll be fine for a while, and then you’ll get scared and run away again.”

“Obi-Wan, please—“

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “No, it’s over, Marrin. Good-bye.”

With that, he turned and walked away, not sparing her a single glance back.

* * *

“I have news,” Qui-Gon announced only to receive no reaction whatsoever from his apprentice.

A glance showed him that Obi-Wan was—once again—lost in thought, merely pushing his food around the plate rather than eating it; granted, the food at the Temple dining hall could be a bit on the bland side at times, but it wasn’t THAT bad. Usually Obi-Wan devoured each meal as if it were his last, but his appetite seemed to have waned of late. He was quieter, as well. Outwardly, his cheerful demeanor had not changed, but often when he thought no one was watching, Qui-Gon had seen him fall into a reverie; the young man’s thoughts were troubled, and Qui-Gon felt certain he knew why.

“The Council have assigned us a mission,” he continued, hoping the thought of getting away from the Temple for a while would cheer Obi-Wan up.

Perhaps a change of scenery—something to focus on other than recent events—would do him good.

“Mm?” Obi-Wan didn’t bother to look up; he simply leaned his cheek against his hand and kept stirring his fork through the uneaten legumes.

Qui-Gon leaned forward. “Yes, they want us to go undercover in the Coruscant Abstract Dance Company. I understand your costume will have lots of frills.”

“All right.”

“Obi-Wan, will you stop playing with your food and listen?” he said sharply, his tone laced with annoyance. “I’m trying to brief you on a mission.”

The Padawan shot him a guilty look and sat up straight, finally making eye contact with his Master. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied, gentler this time. “But I need you in the here and now. We have an assignment. It’s nothing too difficult, but you must know the details.”

“Yes, of course.” Obi-Wan stared blankly at him for a moment, then gave a puzzled frown. “You said something about Coruscant Dance…?”

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon chuckled quietly. “No, our mission is off-planet.” He paused, then added, “You’ll be away from the Temple for a while.”

He nodded, appearing pleased with the idea. “Good. What is the assignment, Master?”

“We’re to negotiate the final settlement of a peace treaty,” Qui-Gon explained. “According to the factions involved, both sides wish to meet and come to some sort of accord. They want a neutral third party to help work out the details of the treaty.”

He pushed his chair back and stood, waiting for his apprentice to rise as well; as they left the dining hall, he rested one hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Think of it as a working vacation,” he added. “This mission should be just that simple.”

* * *

Marrin hovered in the doorway of the small room in the Healer’s wing of the Temple where Qui-Gon lay tucked into a narrow bed; her brow furrowed with concern as she took in his pale, drawn face and unnaturally still form. Mace had told her about the mission that had ended with Qui-Gon almost dead, the victim of those whom he had gone to help.

“They were there to help make peace,” Mace had explained gently. “But one faction only agreed to the meeting so they could launch an attack on their rivals. Obi-Wan is fine,” he assured her. “But in trying to shield him and the other innocents, Qui-Gon was caught in the cross-fire.”

“Is he--?” Marrin’s breath caught in her throat, her heart growing cold at the thought of losing another dear friend.

“It was touch and go when he got back to the Temple,” Mace said grimly. “But he’s stable now. He’s with the Healers, and Obi-Wan is with him. He hasn’t left his Master’s side once since they returned. I’ve tried to get the boy to go home and rest, but he won’t.”

“I’d like to go…” she began hesitantly, and Mace placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Then go. Right now, his outlook seems good, but don’t give yourself anything to regret in case…” He trailed off significantly, and she nodded, taking his meaning all too well.

Even so, she had waited another day, relying on Mace to give her updates on Qui-Gon’s condition. As much as she wanted to see her friend, she was reticent about intruding on Obi-Wan, and she thought perhaps if she waited, he would give himself a break, and she could avoid seeing him—a meeting they would probably both prefer to miss. It had been several weeks since their last, ill-fated encounter, and since then, she had stayed away from him, which was simple considering the size of the Temple and the fact that he and Qui-Gon were frequently sent away on missions.

But she hadn’t been able to avoid him this time.

Obi-Wan was still with his Master, slumped in a chair pulled as close to the bed as possible, resting his head on his folded arms. Drawn to him despite everything, she found herself moving to his side and, instinctively, she reached out, almost but not quite touching him. As if alerted by her nearness, he suddenly jerked upright, gazing up at her with bleary eyes.

“Marrin…” Still fogged by sleep, he actually smiled at her, and she had to turn away quickly, feeling an all-too-familiar ache at the sight of that charming—if sleepy—little smile.

Turning her attention to Qui-Gon, she reached out and rested her hand on his, relieved to feel it warm to her touch, not cool and clammy.

“How is he?” she asked softly, not looking at Obi-Wan.

The young man rose to his feet and moved to stand behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body warming her, and she had to resist the urge to sidle away.

“Sleeping,” he replied in an equally hushed voice. “Doing better. He shifted from unconsciousness to healing sleep yesterday, so…” His voice abruptly broke, and despite her best intentions, Marrin turned to face him—and barely managed to stop herself from throwing her arms around him and trying to soothe away the agonized look she saw on his face, the deep pain in his blue-green eyes. “He’ll be all right,” he said in a choked voice. “He has to be.”

“He will be. He’s strong.”

Slowly, she lifted her hand, wanting to touch him, but she wasn’t certain if her comforting would be welcome; Obi-Wan answered the unspoken question when he sat down again and, wrapping his arms around her waist, buried his face against her stomach. Slipping her arms around his shoulders—which she could feel shaking, but whether with tears or strong emotion, she didn’t know—she held him tight, stroking his back soothingly and murmured quiet words of assurance.

“Marrin…” He lifted his head, his eyes boring into hers with fierce intensity. “I understand now. I know the bond between a Master and Padawan isn’t as strong as a pair-bond, but when I…” He gulped, breathing in a deep, shuddery sigh. “When I felt him slipping away…Oh, gods, it hurt…I’ve never felt anything so awful as that creeping loneliness, that place in my head and my heart going empty, when I could feel him leaving me…”

He began trembling once more, and she held him close, wishing that he hadn’t been forced to learn this lesson so young.

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispered, the endearment slipping out before she could censor herself, and she hoped he was too upset for it to register. “But he’s doing well, and you haven’t lost him. Focus on that.” She paused, then added, “And try to take care of yourself in the meantime. You’ll be of no use to him when he wakes if you’ve worn yourself out.”

“I know…” He leaned back and knuckled his eyes, the gesture making him look even more boyish than usual. “I’m tired, but I don’t want to leave.”

“Come on.” Marrin waved for him to stand up. “If anything—well, if anything happens, you’ll feel it, and you can be back here in a matter of moments. But for right now, go home and sleep. I’ll stay with him, if you like.”

“Will you?” His expression was full of gratitude, and she nodded firmly just to reassure him.

“I’ll remain her til you get back, all right?” She gave him a little nudge towards the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

“I will.”

She watched as he left the room, fatigue robbing him of his usual energetic gait; now his shoulders were slumped, and his entire demeanor was one of weariness…and despair. Something she had hoped never to see from him. Abruptly she looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer, and turned her attention to Qui-Gon instead. No change there, of course, but at least looking at him didn’t make her feel as if her heart were being torn apart, piece by tiny piece.

Pulling out a datapad—an ever-present item hidden in a deep inner pocket of her tunic—she settled into the chair Obi-Wan had occupied and began to read; soon, however, her mind began to wander, her thoughts in turmoil after encountering Obi-Wan once again. With a prolonged sigh, she tucked the datapad away and leaned her elbows on the bed, watching Qui-Gon’s face for any sign of awakening.

“Nice try, my friend,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand and lacing their fingers together; she knew on some level he could hear her even if he couldn’t reply, and it made her feel better to think she wasn’t talking to herself. “I know you meant well. I know you were just trying to help two people you care for find happiness, but…” She shrugged negligently. “It’s not meant to be, I suppose. He doesn’t trust me anymore, and I can’t honestly blame him.”

Sighing once more, she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against Qui-Gon’s hand; even in a deep, healing slumber, he still felt like a solid, comforting presence to her, and she found the words tumbling over themselves to get out.

“He doesn’t understand, and I can’t explain all the reasons why I was so afraid,” she murmured. “It wasn’t him. It was never him. It was me. I used his age as an excuse to push him away because I couldn’t bear the thought of being left alone again. I was afraid of my feelings for him because I thought I wasn’t ready to care for anyone, much less this young scoundrel who reminds me so much of Iain.”

She lifted her head and gave Qui-Gon a long, speculative look. “That’s why, isn’t it? You thought if I were going to fall in love with anyone again, it would be with someone who was like Iain. Well,” she gave a mirthless chuckle. “You were right. And I botched it. I was too afraid of suffering the pain of another broken bond, too afraid that losing him even without a bond would be more than I could bear.”

Stroking the back of Qui-Gon’s hand in an idle caress, Marrin released a deep, slow breath. “Even still, I wish I could help ease the pain he feels now. I wish he could have gone his entire life without ever once feeling loss on any level, but that’s not possible. Even if he weren’t Jedi, he couldn’t avoid it. But I would bear it for him if I could. At least I’m used to it.”

To her surprise, she felt a gentle squeeze on her fingers. Her gaze flew to Qui-Gon’s face only to see him watching her, smiling slightly, his light blue eyes sleepy but definitely open and alert.

“Silly girl.” His voice was raspy and feeble, but she heard him nonetheless. “Giving up so soon? Whatever happened to the Marrin I knew who fought for what she wanted?”

“She grew up,” Marrin stated bluntly. “She learned that some battles are lost causes no matter how much you may want to keep on fighting.” She stopped abruptly, staring down at him in amazement. “And why are you talking about this anyway? You nearly died, you’ve just woken up, and all you can think about is my non-existent love life?”

He chuckled weakly, then turned his head so that he could look at the door, an amused smile quirking his lips. “Why? Because my Padawan is hovering just outside in the hall, listening.”

“WHAT?!”

Obviously knowing a cue when he heard one, Obi-Wan peered around the doorframe, smiling sheepishly, then shuffled into the room, his hands behind his back.

“Er…Hello…” He waved at Marrin, then hurried to his Master’s side. “I could sense you waking,” he explained, not bothering to hide his joy; it burst forth from his eyes, illuminated his smile, infused his entire being. “I’m so glad—“ He broke off, appearing as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

He probably couldn’t, Marrin thought. This was one of those moments when there was too much happiness, relief, love—simply too much emotion to express in mere words.

She backed away, headed for the door, not wanting to infringe on what should be a private moment between Master and Padawan; for now, Obi-Wan was immersed in trying to convince himself that Qui-Gon really was awake at last, no longer on the brink of oblivion, and Qui-Gon was trying to assure his apprentice that he was alive and well, in no danger of leaving Obi-Wan alone and without a Master.

This was no place for her, and she quietly slipped away, leaving them alone to comfort each other after their harrowing experience.

* * *

Sipping gingerly at a cup of hot tea, Marrin settled more comfortably into her favorite chair and turned her gaze out the window. Her quarters weren’t terribly high up, thus she had a good view of the neatly-tended Temple grounds. From above, she could see the subtle designs in the different gardens during the day, but now all she could see were the lights shining in windows in the central compound and the opposing towers. But she wasn’t in the mood to read, and the stillness of the night was peaceful, conducive to helping soothe her tumultuous thoughts.

The unexpected encounter with Obi-Wan had shaken her to the core, and she still wasn’t certain what to do about it. He had reached out for her in a moment of need, but that didn’t mean he had forgiven her or was prepared to give her a second chance. It could simply have meant that he needed someone and turned to her because no one else was there at the time.

Or, a small voice of hope piped up, it could mean that his feelings for her weren’t dead.

Despite what had occurred between them in Qui-Gon’s room, she knew he was too strong-willed and proud to approach her of his own accord. She had been the one to reject him, after all, and he would not voluntarily put himself in the position to be kicked aside again. If anyone made the first move, it would have to be her.

But what if he didn’t want her to? What if she tried to apologize and ask for a second chance and he turned her away?

Then she would be hurt, replied the pragmatic side of her nature. But not as badly as she had been in the past, and wasn’t it worth the risk to find out for certain whether they still had a chance or not?

Idly running her finger around the rim of her cup, she contemplated the possibilities. If she played it safe and said nothing, she knew he would not come to her. Not now, not ever. It would be over, and she would face being alone again, not knowing when or if someone else who would suit her would enter her life.

If she went to him, either he would agree to give her another chance, in which case both of them would be happy, or he would reject her, and she’d end up alone again.

But at least she would know she had tried.

With a resolute nod, she jumped up and hurried out the door, heading for the quarters Obi-Wan shared with his Master; with any luck, Qui-Gon had ordered him to go home and get some rest—and sure enough, the door slid open a moment or two after she’d rung the chime, revealing Obi-Wan standing there, knuckling his eyes, his clothes rumpled as if he’d slept in them.

“I—took a chance you would be here,” Marrin said shyly, casting a hesitant look up at him. “May I come in?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he replied as he ushered her inside.

“Sent you packing, did he?”

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. “His exact words were ‘Go away. I don’t need a nurse, and if I do, there are lovely female nurses I’d much rather have hovering over me than you’.”

He led her over to the couch, flopping down heavily on one end; she perched on the other, glancing around and shaking her head slightly at the sight that met her eyes. Qui-Gon would have a fit if Obi-Wan didn’t clean up before he came home: half-empty drinking glasses had been left in various places around the room; datapads were scattered everywhere; a light coating of dust was visible on all unused surfaces, and the young man’s clothes littered the floor. It was all she could do to sit still and not start cleaning the place.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan leaned back, regarding her with a beautifully neutral expression he must have learned straight from his Master. “You wanted to see me?” he prompted, his tone also carefully dispassionate, giving her no indication of how he felt about her being there.

“Yes…” She drew in a deep breath and released it again slowly. “I came to apologize. I was unfair to you in many ways, and I’m sorry. I know you’re an adult who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions. I allowed my own fears to use any excuse to keep you at a distance, and I regret it more than I can say.”

Nodding, he watched her intently, his expression somber. “Thank you. I accept your apology, and I appreciate it.”

Their gazes met and locked, and for a moment, she let herself be caught up in just drinking in the sight of him; she hadn’t let herself see him—REALLY see him—as the handsome man he was, and now she found herself greedy to take in every detail while she could, not knowing if she would be able to do so ever again. She longed to see his eyes dancing with mischief, longed to see that irresistible smile lighting up his entire face once more.

“Was there something else?” he asked quietly, still keeping physical and emotional distance from her.

It was now or never…

Mustering every ounce of courage she possessed, she blurted, “Give me another chance—please, Obi-Wan. I’ll beg if I must.” Taking advantage of the surprise registering on his face, she reached out and captured his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I swear I won’t push you away again. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way, and I know the value of what I gave up when I let you go. If you’re willing to accept the restrictions this void in my mind presents, then I am too. I’m no longer afraid of letting you get close…only of losing you.”

“Marrin, I…” He stared at her, shaking his head as if amazed. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll give me the chance to earn your trust again,” she pleaded, pressing his hand against her cheek. “Say I may hope that one day you’ll love me as I love you.”

But he said nothing.

Instead, Obi-Wan stood up and gazed down at her, his face set in unreadable lines. Her heart sank; from the coldness of his response, she gathered that while her apology was accepted, her repentance came too late.

And then she found herself swept up into his arms, settled onto his lap when he sat down again and pulled her close. She felt his fingers tangled in her hair, felt him cradling her head in his palm as he angled her into a deep, lingering kiss. Shocked by this unexpected move, she let instinct take over, slipping her arms around him and giving herself over to the intense embrace.

When they parted at last, he rested his forehead against hers, caressing her cheek tenderly. “We can try again,” he told her, his voice soft and gentle. “If that’s what you really want.”

“It is,” she whispered, brushing light kisses along his cheeks and chin, saying through each touch more than her words ever could.

Slowly, he lowered her, maneuvering so that she lay stretched out beneath him, tangling his legs with hers.

“And what else do you want, my Marrin?” His voice was a husky growl against the sensitive skin of her neck.

There are times, she thought as she reached out and pulled him closer, when an unspoken response can be more effective than a spoken one. This, she decided, was one of those times, and she proceeded to show him in no uncertain terms exactly what she wanted.

* * *

Qui-Gon was pleased with himself. Not only did he manage to keep a straight face when his apprentice finally made an appearance, but he also kept the urge to say “I told you so” firmly in check.

Instead, he merely took in the renewed sparkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes and the smile of sheer contentment that played at the corners of the young man’s lips, but he said nothing. Obi-Wan’s aura was redolent with satisfaction, and it was clear to read just from the air of languid pleasure surrounding him that he had recently had a bone-melting experience.

“Good morning, my Padawan.” Years of honing his diplomatic skills kept his voice and expression neutral. “I hope you…rested well.”

Obi-Wan shot him a startled glance, and then a faint tinge of red crept up his neck and face when he saw the gleam in his Master’s pale blue eyes that said all too clearly: “Yes, as a matter of fact I DO know what you did last night.” But he rallied quickly, giving Qui-Gon an impish grin.

“Yes, Master. I did rest well. And you?”

“Better than you, I’ll wager,” Qui-Gon replied, stroking his beard to cover his amusement. “I SLEPT through the night.”

“I suppose I don’t need to tell you Marrin and I had a talk,” Obi-Wan said dryly.

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” came the innocent response. At Obi-Wan’s aggrieved look, he relented, lifting his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m glad to hear you’ve solved your problems, and I wish nothing but happiness for you both.”

“Thank you, Master.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Qui-Gon. “For your wishes, and for playing match-maker,” he added impudently.

“I did no such thing!”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes expressively. “Of course not, my Master. What was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t,” he retorted. “But under the circumstances, it’s understandable. Now then. Would you care to tell me what happened?”

Although many years had passed since he had felt the flush of new love, Qui-Gon remembered the excitement that made a young lover feel as if he or she were going to burst at the seams if he couldn’t talk—or rather, babble—about it to someone. He let Obi-Wan ramble as long as he liked, nodding and making encouraging noises when it was appropriate, pleased that his Padawan was his usual, lively self once more.

After the younger man had finally wound down and hurried off to sparring practice with Marrin—“she said I’m not off the hook while you’re recuperating just because…well, you know…” he admitted sheepishly—Qui-Gon relaxed against his pillow and smiled.

“Done, Iain,” he murmured. “There’s true healing at last.”

And from somewhere far away, he heard a familiar voice reply, //Thank you, my friend…//




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