Making Room

Author's Note: This story was inspired primarily by one of Qui-Gon's lines at the end of JA#8: "You are my Padawan, Obi-Wan. I do not need the Council to tell me so."

Obi-Wan Kenobi stretched out restlessly on his sleep couch, fighting for a more comfortable position. Despite his best efforts, sleep was eluding him tonight. He looked around his room distractedly, as though seeing it for the first time. His home since leaving the creche, the room had once been familiar and welcoming. It seemed so foreign to him now! He was grateful that the Council had allowed him to retain his old quarters during his probation, but... Obi-Wan knew where he belonged. And it was not here in the initiates' wing.

He stared at the ceiling, his eyes drawn to the small model fighters that circled quietly above. How many years ago had he built those? Five? Felt more like fifty.

Obi-Wan's evening meditations had gone poorly, and his mind was far too full. Vivid images from the last several weeks flashed relentlessly through his head. It was very disquieting, and he tried to push his troubled thoughts away. Replaying these images now would do him little good. He knew it would take countless hours of meditation and reflection to bring order to the chaos of recent events.

But it wasn't only images of the past that held his sleep at bay. It was also anticipation of the future. And anxiety for the present.

Obi-Wan impatiently punched at his pillow, and rolled to his side with a frustrated sigh. He had an early session with the Council in the morning, the first official meeting of his probation, and he had no desire to attend it exhausted. But the harder he reached for sleep, the more elusive it became.

Obi-Wan.... Quiet your mind.

Obi-Wan blew out a tired breath. He was chiding himself in Qui-Gon's voice now, was he? If his master were here, that's just what he'd say. He'd say

Padawan. Calm.

Obi-Wan blinked, then stilled his body and listened with his mind.

Don't fight. Let your thoughts flow.

He closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath.

Open. Relax. Release.

Obi-Wan gave up the struggle and allowed the jumble of images to flow freely.

Visions of war, brutal and confused.
Triumph. Loneliness. ....Horror.
Cerasi. Her green eyes devoted and solemn. Her warm palm pressed to his.
Cerasi. Dying in his arms.

Obi-Wan bit back a sound of raw pain.

Bruck. Eyes wide with panic. Fingers brushing his, then falling away.
Bruck. Dead and twisted on the rocks below.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

Xanatos. Eyes burning with hatred. Hands gripping a blood-red saber.
Xanatos. Disappearing into a deadly, swirling pool of blackness.

Obi-Wan brought his hands to his eyes and slowly shook his head. He had seen more death in the last few months than he had seen in his first thirteen years.

Padawan. Release.

Obi-Wan envisioned the stream of images flowing slowly from his mind, swirling up to the ceiling, his tension and sorrow trailing behind them like the tail of a kite. Circling above him, like the toy ships from his childhood. Dissipating into a soft mist... and gradually fading away. He sighed, and felt his knotted muscles ease as he settled deeper into the mattress beneath him.

Breathe. Good.

Tentatively, Obi-Wan stretched out with his mind. //Qui-Gon. Master. Is that you?//

//Yes. Rest well now, Padawan.//

//I will, Master. Thank you. Thank you.//

Obi-Wan was too nervous to eat, but he wandered to the dining hall in search of some tea. The big room was quiet, with only a handful of early risers enjoying breakfast before starting the day.

Obi-Wan stared without interest at the food on display. He passed by, poured himself a cup of strong tea, and went to sit alone by the large window overlooking the kitchen gardens. Glowing in the soft light of dawn, a pair of tiny, white flutterwings hovered among the flowers and herbs. It was a lovely scene, and he tried to open himself to its tranquility.

A few tables away, several padawans sat chatting quietly together. Vaguely, Obi-Wan noticed their voices become hushed, and after a moment he felt furtive glances turn his way. He looked over at the group as he blew into his steaming tea. He saw their eyes drop. Their conversation slowly continued in low tones.

Obi-Wan took a sip of his drink and turned back to the window with forced casualness. He was pretty sure he knew what was being discussed at the other table. It suddenly occurred to him how strange his situation must seem to them. Here was Obi-Wan Kenobi, the boy who dared to leave the Jedi Order after barely a month of service as a padawan. The boy who returned to the Temple shortly afterward, and battled... to the death... with his long-time rival. The boy who left again, tagging along with his estranged former master on a mission not sanctioned by the Council. The boy who sat alone, hoping now to be accepted back into the fold.

Obi-Wan heard a quiet ripple of laughter from the padawans, and he set his cup aside with an unsteady hand. A moment later, he tensed with apprehension when the whispering at the other table abruptly stopped.

The warm hand on his shoulder made him jump. Obi-Wan glanced up, and with a rush of gladness saw Qui-Gon standing beside him. "Good morning, Padawan," said Qui-Gon amiably, and a bit loudly. Obi-Wan stifled a laugh as he realized Qui-Gon stressed his title for the benefit of the neighboring table.

"Good morning, Master," he replied with a broad smile.

Qui-Gon settled comfortably beside Obi-Wan on the bench, ignoring the curious glances directed their way. "I hoped to find you here. How did you sleep?"

"Well. Thanks to you."

"Good. Are you prepared for your Council session?"

"I... think so."

"You'll be fine. Just remember to speak honestly and calmly. They are concerned with your best interests, Obi-Wan. You may not always agree with them, but you must listen with an open mind and a willing heart."

"I will, Master. I promise. Tell me, how did your report go yesterday?"

"As well as can be expected," said Qui-Gon soberly. "The Council still disapprove of my decision to follow Xanatos. Disapprove, I think, of my perceived motives. But when they learned of his actions, of his plans for Telos, they agreed that he had to be stopped." He paused and gazed out the window before adding, "Of course, they were not pleased that my former padawan chose to face death rather than justice."

Obi-Wan nodded, and they sat companionably for a moment, watching the morning light gradually brighten the little garden. Obi-Wan felt his tension ease, and he wondered idly if Qui-Gon was purposefully drawing it from him.

Eventually, Qui-Gon roused himself and stood. "I must go now, Padawan. When you meet with the Council, remember: allow the Force to be your guide. You will do well." Seemingly from nowhere, he produced a ripe muja fruit and tossed it to Obi-Wan. "Eat your breakfast," he said with a smile, and with a quick squeeze of Obi-Wan's shoulder, he left.

Obi-Wan knelt before the Council, feeling as though a cloud of flutterwings swarmed in his stomach. "Masters," he murmured in greeting.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," began Mace Windu. "You appear before the Jedi High Council to begin your probationary term. To officially begin it, I should say. Already, your probation is off to an... unusual start." He leaned back in his chair. "Report, Obi-Wan, about Telos."

Obi-Wan lifted his head. Telos? He hadn't expected this. Qui-Gon had given them his report only yesterday. What could the Council hope to learn from him? He gave a mental shrug. 'We are not to know. We are to do,' he recited to himself.

Obediently, Obi-Wan told the story -- of his and Qui-Gon's investigation, their imprisonment and narrow escape from execution, their discovery of Xanatos' plans, and their public exposure of his lies and deception. And finally, of their fateful confrontation with Qui-Gon's former apprentice.

His story wound to its conclusion, and he knelt there quietly, awaiting the Council's response.

Yoda spoke first. "Tell us, young Obi-Wan. Why chose you to go with Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan blinked. "I... I had to, Master."

Yoda raised his eyebrows and his expressive ears lifted. "Had to, you say? What mean you?"

"I.... He...." Obi-Wan's stomach clenched. He felt tongue tied. What did they want him to say? What did they want to hear?

Mace Windu spoke. "Did you feel that Qui-Gon needed your help, Obi-Wan?"

"...No. But I thought...."

"You thought you could use the opportunity to prove yourself to him?"

"No, Master Windu!"

"Did you consider that your presence might be unwelcome to him? Or a burden to him?"

Obi-Wan looked startled. "No, sir. I didn't think.... I mean, I felt...."

"Hmm. 'Feel, don't think.' Sound like Qui-Gon you do," murmured Yoda.

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke for the first time. "Obi-Wan. Could it be that you were escaping the Temple when you chose to go to Telos? Could it be that you were fleeing the memory of Bruck Chun's death?"

Obi-Wan paled. "No," he said. "No, I was not running from... that. I was not." He was sure he spoke the truth, and yet... he could not deny that he had felt relief at leaving the Temple that day.... Obi-Wan's hesitation was plainly written on his face, and he knew it.

Mace Windu nodded appraisingly. "So. Your actions were not carefully considered, and you remain unsure of your motives for following Qui-Gon." He frowned. "Another impulsive decision, rashly made and blindly followed."

Obi-Wan felt a flare of anger within, and he quickly swallowed it down. He would not lose his temper. Not here. Not now. 'An open mind and a willing heart,' he reminded himself. He had to speak, and Qui-Gon's words gave him the strength he needed.

"My Masters." Obi-Wan bowed his head with humility. "My decision to go to Telos was made quickly, yes. But there was no need for deliberation. I had to attend my Master. The Force willed it. And with no uncertainty, I knew the rightness of it. I belonged at my Master's side. And I was right to go."

Obi-Wan's simple conviction rang in his words. Honesty was all he could offer the Council. He had nothing else to give.

"Well spoken, Obi-Wan Kenobi," acknowledged Mace Windu, and Obi-Wan was amazed to hear faint approval in his voice. "But there is one mistake in your speech. Qui-Gon Jinn is not your master. You are not a padawan. This is as you chose it to be."

Obi-Wan flushed with shame, but he calmly raised his eyes to Master Windu's. In his mind, he heard Qui-Gon's pledge to him on Telos: 'You are my Padawan, Obi-Wan. I do not need the Council to tell me so.' Obi-Wan knew the truth in his heart, even if the Council didn't see it -- yet.

He held Mace Windu's stern gaze without flinching. "As you say, Master," he said evenly.

The remainder of the meeting was spent outlining the terms of Obi-Wan's probation. He was not allowed to leave Temple grounds, and he had a full schedule of discussion and meditation sessions with various Council members, in addition to his standard coursework.

With some dismay, Obi-Wan had learned that Master Windu was the Councilor in charge of his probation. He was a little concerned about that. He had always felt that Master Windu disapproved of him, even before his impulsive decision to leave the Jedi and remain on Melida/Daan. Granted, as an initiate Obi-Wan had had a few too many scrapes with other students. It had been a failing of his, he knew. A quick temper when challenged... and a fear of not being chosen as a padawan, which manifested itself in a desire to fiercely defend himself and his abilities. It was ironic that his fear of failure had so often resulted in behavior that seemed to confirm him as unworthy to become a Jedi Knight.

Obi-Wan lifted his chin as he walked down the corridor. Well, he had been chosen as an apprentice... eventually. He was Qui-Gon's padawan, and he would become a Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan knew he had a lot to prove -- not only to the Council but also to himself... and to Qui-Gon. And he would prove it. He would work hard during probation, would open himself to the lessons of the Masters, and grow wiser and stronger as a result.

That was his mission now. And he swore he would fulfill his mission in an exemplary manner, as befitted the Jedi he was.

Obi-Wan's fervent determination settled deeply into him, but as he approached his destination, his heart quickened with anticipation. If his guess was correct, he was about to see Bant. He was so anxious to talk to his friend, to tell her about Telos and about his Council meeting.

But mostly, he ached to share with her the news that he and Qui-Gon had reunited. Obi-Wan treasured that knowledge within himself, reverently, and he had spoken of it to no one yet. He wanted Bant to be the first to know.

Obi-Wan paused outside the door and took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. Then he pushed through the door with a determined smile, striding purposefully across the grass toward the pond. He felt certain this was where he was meant to find Bant.

Even if this location made him distinctly uneasy.

"Returning to the scene of the crime?"

The quiet words stopped him in his tracks. Obi-Wan turned slowly to see Aalto Ai'dain, one of Bruck Chun's best friends, standing behind him. Obi-Wan noticed how loud the rumble of the waterfall suddenly seemed.

"I wouldn't think you'd have the nerve to show up here again," Aalto said softly. His red-rimmed eyes were narrowed and threatening, and Obi-Wan could feel the Force whispering a warning. Had Aalto been crying?

The potential for danger here was clear, and Obi-Wan kept his voice calm. "Hello, Aalto. I'm looking for Bant. Have you seen her?"

Aalto ignored the question. "So how's probation treating you, Kenobi? What punishment does the Council have for murderers, anyway? Kitchen duty? Scrubbing the 'freshers? Or are you writing 'I will not kill other Jedi' over and over?"

Obi-Wan stood very still, but he could hear his breath become shallow and ragged in his ears. "I am not responsible for Bruck's death," he said clearly and quietly. He had chanted those words so often in his own mind that it seemed strange to hear them aloud.

"Not responsible," sneered Aalto with contempt. "What happened, Oafy-Wan? Did you accidentally trip him?"

Obi-Wan bit back a surge of anger at the petty taunt. "Bruck fell," he recited carefully. "I tried to save him."

"Aww, you tried to save him." Aalto's voice began to rise dangerously. "When, exactly? After you chased him down and fought with him? After you shoved him off the falls?"

"No, Aalto," Obi-Wan quietly seethed. "It was after he tried to steal the treasury. And right before he tried to murder Bant."

Aalto growled and took a sudden wide swing at him. Obi-Wan ducked it easily before realizing it was what Aalto had planned for. The hard fist pounded into his chest with a Force-enhanced blow, and Obi-Wan crashed to his knees, breathless and gasping. Doubled over and half-blind with pain, he sensed too late Aalto's vicious kick to the ribs. The heavy boot connected solidly, and what little air Obi-Wan had left was forced from him, leaving his lungs agonized and starving. His body convulsed, demanding that he inhale, but the vice-like pain in his chest and ribs denied him. Hazy blackness began to shroud his vision.

Aalto sprang toward him with a furious cry, and Obi-Wan raised a hand in desperation, giving a violent, uncontrolled Force-push that sent the other boy flying.

With a loud thud of impact and a dull crack of bone against rock, Aalto landed meters away, near the edge of the pond. It was the exact spot where Bruck had died, and Obi-Wan would've cursed in shock if he'd been able to. He closed his eyes against the haunting sight and rolled up onto his knees, his shoulders hitching with the effort to take in breath.

He heard a step behind him and jerked into a defensive posture with a sharp hiss of pain. When he saw Bant approaching, he nearly fell over in relief.

Bant's huge eyes were full of alarm as she rushed toward him. Obi-Wan lifted his arm in a vague gesture toward Aalto. "Go," he choked out at her. "See... him!" Bant glanced over at Aalto, who lay unmoving in the mist from the waterfall. "Oh, Obi-Wan!" she whispered as she knelt beside her friend. "What happened?"

"Go!" insisted Obi-Wan, nearly inaudibly. "He... okay? Tell me!" Bant understood then. She touched Obi-Wan's cheek, then sprinted over to Aalto, who was moaning now.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists and pressed them to his eyes. He felt an electric pulse of fear course through him, making breathing even more difficult. What did I do? What did I do what did I do what did I do.... Force! Twenty minutes ago he had left a probation hearing, determined to follow the rules, to be the perfect padawan, to prove his worth. And now this! Please let him be all right. Please! Gods, when the Masters learn.... He could feel the stirring of panic within him and he fought to push it away.

Suddenly Bant was beside him again, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders. He leaned into her, still gasping, eyes still closed, waiting for her words but terrified to hear what she had to say.

"Obi-Wan," she murmured. "He's all right. He hit his head. He was out for a minute, but he'll be fine. Obi-Wan, you're hurt. You're really hurt. Can you tell me what happened?" Obi-Wan shook his head slightly; he couldn't breathe much less speak.

He heard Aalto's voice then, hissing at him. "Shut up, Kenobi!" Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Aalto crouching unsteadily in front of him, a hand pressed to his bloody temple. "Shut up!" he warned again, and Obi-Wan realized the boy was just as afraid as he was. "No one needs to know about this. Say nothing!" Obi-Wan stared mutely at Aalto, his glazed eyes widening as he struggled for another shallow, panting breath. He felt an irrational urge to laugh; the repeated warnings to keep quiet were so ridiculous considering his current condition. "Obi-Wan, no one needs to know!" Aalto grated at him.

"Plotting secrecy, boys?" At the sound of the familiar, stern voice, Obi-Wan collapsed against Bant in despair.

Mace Windu reached for his comlink. "Send healers to the Level Twelve waterfall immediately."

As Bant tightened her arms around him, Obi-Wan lost hope, and then consciousness.

...Voices. Hollow, shadowy voices, and if he... tried... he could hear their words....

"....lacerated lung tissue due to the fractured ribs. His respiratory distress is due to severe bleeding in the thoracic cavity. T'Vel has drained the blood from the chest, and is concentrating on repairing and re-expanding the lung. Obi-Wan should be fine, but his pressure is very low, and he'll need to remain quiet for several--"

"He's regaining consciousness; I feel it. Let me speak to him."

"Master Jinn, no. Please allow T'Vel to focus."

"I won't disturb T'Vel. But I will go to Obi-Wan. He's waking, he should know that I'm here."

"Qui-Gon, let the healers work. I need to talk to you."

"Mace! They said you brought him here. What happened? No one can tell me what happened...."

The echoing whispers began to fade away, and Obi-Wan was dimly grateful to slip back toward sleep.

Qui-Gon was here. And Obi-Wan did not want to hear the disappointment in his master's voice when he learned his pathetic padawan couldn't stay out of trouble for a single, brief morning. He could not bear to hear it. Obi-Wan let himself drift away.

Qui-Gon preceded Mace Windu into the deserted examination room he'd been led to, then he wheeled around and faced his colleague. "Answer me, Mace. How did this happen to Obi-Wan?"

"I don't have an answer for you, Qui-Gon. Yet. All I know is that he and Aalto Ai'dain fought. Aalto is being examined and treated as we speak, and I'll know more once I've talked with him." Mace's features darkened with distaste. "Your former padawan has a knack for finding trouble, it seems. It took him less than an hour to leave the Council chambers, get into a brawl and wind up in the healers' wing. It must be a record of some kind."

"Mace, if you're trying to be amusing --"

"I assure you I don't find this to be at all humorous, Qui-Gon. Any doubts I had about Obi-Wan's suitability for apprenticeship have only been strengthened in the last hour. I can see why you've been so reluctant to take him back."

Qui-Gon stared; Mace's words stopped him cold for a moment, as he realized how his caution and deliberation on that issue had been perceived. But he found his voice and spoke firmly and clearly. "Mace. I have accepted Obi-Wan back. Before we left Telos. He is my padawan."

It was Mace's turn to stare. "It is not your place to do such a thing, Qui-Gon, and you know it. Obi-Wan is on probation. I am in charge of his probation, and his status will be determined by me and by the Jedi High Council. We will decide if and when he is accepted back. And in the event he is restored to the Order, we will decide the terms of his apprenticeship. And that includes whether or not he is returned to you."

Qui-Gon was deadly calm and still. "You," he said quietly, "would give Obi-Wan to another to train? Explain."

Mace lifted an eyebrow and spread wide his hands. "There is no need to explain, Qui-Gon, is there? You should know all the logical, and compelling may I add, reasons why we must consider that course of action. But I shall list them for you if you like."

Anger began to simmer within Qui-Gon at Mace's deliberately casual tone of voice, but he released it with the ease of a Master. He determined that he would hold his temper and hold his tongue. For the moment.

Mace squarely met Qui-Gon's icy blue eyes, and began his speech. "After years of notorious reluctance to ever take another apprentice, and after adamantly refusing to train Obi-Wan due to his recklessness and anger, you eventually are persuaded to take him on. Then after barely one month of service to you, Obi-Wan resigns his place as your padawan learner and leaves the Jedi Order. This speaks poorly of the connection, the commitment, engendered between you, don't you think?"

Qui-Gon lifted his chin, and Mace, who knew him well, silenced the inevitable protest with a raised hand. "That was a rhetorical question," he said. "Allow me to continue. Candidly. You have a history, Qui-Gon. Of defiance of the dictates of the Council and of questionable adherence to the Code. Obi-Wan is headstrong, and, in my, clearly undisciplined. It may very well be that you are not the best master for this boy."

Silence. Broken only by Qui-Gon's audible, accelerated breathing.

"And there is another thing," Mace continued flatly. "Xanatos."

Qui-Gon blinked, and his eyes stayed closed for a second or two.

"See?" said Mace. "You hear his name and react with pain. You, my friend, have not fully recovered from the betrayal and turning of your former apprentice. And Obi-Wan has betrayed you as well. You may think you are prepared to forgive him, but if you are wrong it spells disaster for Obi-Wan's training, and disaster for you as well. You know that is true."

"So I'm on probation as well, is that it?" Qui-Gon's face was expressionless. He spoke slowly, deliberately. "Let me tell you what I know, my friend. Obi-Wan Kenobi is my padawan learner. And he will remain my padawan learner until he is raised to Knighthood."

Mace answered in equally measured tones. "Not if it isn't the will of the Council."

Qui-Gon smiled coldly. "It is the will of the Force, Master Windu. That should be good enough. Even for you." With that, Qui-Gon brushed past the Councilor and left the room.

When Obi-Wan awoke, the room was silent except for the quiet, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside his bed. The soft glow of the machine was the only light in the tiny room, and by that light he saw a familiar silhouette sitting next to him.

"Hello, Bant," he murmured.

"Hello, Obi-Wan," she whispered back. "How do you feel?"

"Fantastic," he said softly, and Bant gave the gentle, rasping laugh of her species.

"Seriously," she said.

"Fine. Hurts... to breathe."

She nodded, frowning with concern. "Shall I get the healers?"

"No, please. Just... you." Obi-Wan paused to take a labored breath. "I was... looking for you, Bant. I... didn't find you in time."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Obi. I was looking for you, too. I knew where to find you for some reason, but... I guess I was too late." She stroked his arm soothingly, and he sighed with sadness.

"I wanted... to tell you something," he confided. "I wanted to tell you...." His voice thickened, and his words were choked away.

"...Obi..."

With focused effort, he shared the news that was so important to him. "I wanted to tell you... Qui-Gon took me back. On Telos. He said... I'm his padawan again."

"That's wonderful, Obi-Wan." Bant brushed his pale, cool forehead softly, trying to ease away the tension there. It didn't work.

"But that was before," he whispered. "Before this."

Bant smiled down encouragingly at him. She had no idea what the immediate future held for her friend, but she could reassure him in one thing. "Qui-Gon cares for you very much, Obi-Wan. He was here, just a little while ago. He asked me to stay with you because Master Yoda wanted to talk to him. He'll be back soon. He said he would."

"Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan swallowed carefully. "Master Yoda?" First Master Windu, now Master Yoda... talking to Qui-Gon... about him. He sighed with resignation, a feeble sound that lapsed into a weak, pain-filled cough, and Bant patted his hand as he recovered.

He managed to catch his breath, then he lightly changed the subject. "Can't believe the healers let you stay. That's... nice of them."

She laughed softly. "Nice had nothing to do with it, Obi-Wan. Master Jinn made them. I think they're scared of him."

Obi-Wan smiled wistfully. He wanted so badly to see his master. If, indeed, Qui-Gon still was his master. Obi-Wan was too afraid to hope for that.

They sat quietly for a moment, then Obi-Wan broke the silence. "Bant? How's Aalto?"

"I'm not sure. Fine, I think. He hit his head on a rock, Obi-Wan. I'm more concerned about the rock. I think I'll go visit it later."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Don't... ow. Don't make me want to laugh."

"Sorry," Bant giggled.

Obi-Wan's expression turned solemn. "I Force-pushed him, Bant. I've never done that to a person before. It's just so... wrong."

"You were defending yourself, Obi-Wan."

"I know, but... do you know what? I think... I think Aalto had been crying." Obi-Wan's brow furrowed with concentration as he remembered. "I think... he was at the waterfall thinking about Bruck, and... then I walked in, and he... lost control. Bant, it made me realize something." He inhaled, a shallow rasping breath, and his next words flowed out on its meager strength. "Bruck was a bully, and I never liked him... but he was young, he had a life and a future, he had friends and they miss him and... I know what it's like to... to lose...." Obi-Wan suddenly shook off Bant's warm hand and wiped at his eyes. "Oh Force, now I'm crying," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Gods. Ignore me, Bant."

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. It's okay, you can cry..."

"Don't! Just... don't, please. Don't be nice to me. Or I'll start to sob, and it'll really hurt." He tried to smile at her, but his mouth was trembling.

Bant leaned over and laid her head on the pillow next to his. She listened to the hitch in his difficult breathing, the convulsive swallowing as he struggled to regain composure.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke, very calmly. "I'm tired, so I think I'll sleep now. Thanks, Bant. You... you go visit that rock now, all right?" His empty humor earned an indulgent smile from his friend.

"Sleep well, Obi," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'll see you soon." A slight dampness glistened near his eye, and Bant followed the short trail across his temple with her fingers. She brushed away the tear that sparkled in his hair, then turned and left the room.

Bant took a chair in the hallway outside. Master Jinn had asked her to stay with Obi-Wan until he returned, and that's what she intended to do.

Qui-Gon paced irritably in Yoda's quarters, circumnavigating a tiny table that he would have enjoyed kicking in frustration. Abruptly, he realized he was behaving like a caged animal, and he stopped himself short.

Yoda patiently observed him with half-lidded eyes. "Speak now you would, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon grunted. "You brought me here, Master. Perhaps you'll tell me why, so I can return to my padawan."

"Ah." Yoda's eyes closed briefly. "Answered my question you have."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Then may I go? ...Master," he added belatedly.

"Hmm. Unpleasant you are, Qui-Gon," Yoda said mildly. "Spoke you with Master Windu, I know. His words, upset you did they?"

Qui-Gon managed not to scowl, but he couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Master Windu," he said, "is being unreasonable."

"How so?"

Qui-Gon faced Yoda, stern and dignified. "He is stubborn," he began, folding his arms into his sleeves. "He is blind. He is purposefully blinding himself to Obi-Wan's goodness and worth. He is judging the boy harshly and is endangering his future by ignoring an essential truth."

"Truth, you say!" Yoda lifted his ears in exaggerated surprise. "And what truth is this, Qui-Gon?"

"That Obi-Wan Kenobi is destined to become a Jedi Knight. And that I am meant to serve as his master on that journey."

Qui-Gon glowered in irritation as the little Jedi Master began to cackle with obvious delight. Yoda's shoulders shook, and he tapped his stick against the floor with undisguised amusement. Eventually, he recovered himself enough to gasp out, "Mace Windu -- a fool you think him, hmm? And blind to the will of the Force?"

Qui-Gon glared suspiciously at Yoda, then nodded slowly. "Yes. He is being stubborn, and is refusing to acknowledge that Obi-Wan and I.... what?! What in the name of the Force do you find so funny about this!"

"Listen!" huffed Yoda with glee, "To yourself you should listen, Qui-Gon! Harsh. Stubborn. Foolish. Blind! Remind you of someone these words should, and not of Mace Windu, I think!" His laughter began to subside as he watched Qui-Gon's expression transform from annoyance... to understanding... to shame.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth as if to speak, then in one graceful movement he knelt before his master and humbly bowed his head.

Yoda chuckled and laid an affectionate claw on Qui-Gon's head in a gesture that seemed much like a blessing. "Bow before the wisdom of your old master, you do, hmm?" He patted Qui-Gon's hair fondly. "Look at me, young one."

Qui-Gon obediently lifted his head.

"Much time it took you to recognize Obi-Wan as your padawan. Convinced you now are, that his destiny lies alongside yours?"

Qui-Gon nodded solemnly. "I am, my Master."

Yoda's features resolved into a picture of placid contentment, and he met Qui-Gon's eyes serenely for a moment. Then suddenly he poked a pointed finger sharply into Qui-Gon's chest. "Told you I did!"

Qui-Gon winced and bit back a rueful smile. He had known someday Yoda would hit him with this. "Yes, my Master," he conceded graciously. "Told me you did."

"Ha!" said Yoda, and he gave Qui-Gon's forehead a gentle shove. "Sit." he commanded.

Qui-Gon sat on the floor and leaned against Yoda's chair. The position was comforting and familiar, a ritual of apprenticeship long past, and he felt himself relax. Half-heartedly, Qui-Gon chided himself as too old to find comfort in physical reminders of childhood. But Yoda's hand on his shoulder seemed to radiate peace and warmth, and Qui-Gon was too wise not to open himself to that.

"Your padawan, well he did before the Council this morning."

"I'm pleased to hear that, Master. I've not had a chance to speak with Obi-Wan. And Mace was less than encouraging."

"Cautious, Mace Windu is. And for good reason. He seeks to protect the Order. To protect Obi-Wan. And, Qui-Gon, to protect you."

"Hmph. Admirable. But I do not need Mace Windu to protect me from my thirteen-year-old padawan."

"Not from the boy, Qui-Gon. You from yourself he would protect." He rapped Qui-Gon's head with a small but powerful fist. "Thick you are."

"That's undisputable," laughed Qui-Gon softly. He had learned long ago that any carefully guarded dignity he might possess must sometimes be surrendered in the presence of this particular Jedi. "Nevertheless, Master, I find I resent Mace's 'concern' on my behalf."

"Cares for you he does."

"We were close once," acknowledged Qui-Gon. "Good friends. But things have changed between us since he joined the Council, Master. He is a different man. Obstinate. Rigid. Officious. We rarely see eye to eye now."

"A different man you are as well, my Padawan," Yoda pointed out. "Disagree you may. Debate you may. But honor each other you should. And respect each other you WILL." Yoda punctuated his speech with a loud crack of his stick on the stone floor, and Qui-Gon actually jumped.

Chastened, Qui-Gon could only nod his head, and say, "Yes, Master." Inwardly, he determined that he would take the ancient one's words to heart. He would sincerely try.

Effortlessly reading his former padawan's thoughts, Yoda said quietly, "There is no try."

"Of course, my Master."

"Good. Now. Speak you will of Xanatos."

Qui-Gon shook his head wearily. "I have given my report, Mas-"

"Heard your report I did," interrupted Yoda. "Speak now your heart."

Qui-Gon took a breath, and resisted his natural urge to close himself on this issue. There was simply no point in hiding from Yoda. He thought for a moment about the man his former apprentice had become, of the evil he had done. And of the unspeakable demise he had chosen for himself.

"Xanatos hated me so much, Master," Qui-Gon said contemplatively. "His hatred filled him. It fueled him. Even his own death was chosen as a punishment for me. His final words were meant to wound me."

"What said he?"

Qui-Gon quietly recited the words, which were as fresh in his memory as the moment he first heard them. "Your hate drove you, though you won't admit it. You destroyed me because you could not save me. I am your biggest failure. Live with that. And live with this. Then he ended his life."

"So darkened he was," murmured Yoda. "Wound you, did he?"

Qui-Gon was at a loss. He closed his eyes, searching for truth. A calm, insistent voice within him said No. But a softer, more uncertain voice whispered Yes. And somehow, the whisper seemed unbearably loud.

"Allow him not the power he sought," warned Yoda. "Victory you must not grant. Deny him his last wish, Qui-Gon. Deny him your pain."

After a moment, Qui-Gon nodded.

"Meditate on this you must, my Padawan. Help you, I will."

"Thank you, Master."

"In your past, that one is." Yoda gently fingered the fall of hair where Qui-Gon's braid had hung so many years ago. "Your future is lying in the healer's wing. Waiting for you. Go to him now you shall."

"Yes, my Master. I will."

He'd been kept from Obi-Wan long enough.

Qui-Gon's long stride and the air of determination he projected before himself helped carve an unobstructed path through the corridors. He stood now, hands on hips, waiting impatiently for a lift that would take him to his padawan.

"Qui-Gon!"

"Force help me," he muttered. He turned to see Tahl, unerringly making her way to him despite her blindness. At any other time, he would have been delighted to see her, but now she was yet another delay. "What?" he said brusquely.

The Jedi Knight's beautiful features twisted wryly as she approached, and she spoke with a voice to match. "Good afternoon, Tahl. A pleasure to see you, Tahl. How have you been, my dear friend."

"Forgive me," Qui-Gon said, more civilly. "I am thrilled beyond measure to see you. How did you find me?"

"By smell."

"How flattering."

Tahl laughed. "I'm serious," she said. "I've come to recognize your distinctive scent. It's quite pleasant, by the way, so no need to worry. Of course, your unmistakable aura of grim purpose and determination helped me, too. You're impossible to miss. Couldn't lose you if I tried."

"Try harder?" he suggested.

"My, but you're charming today. Here's your lift. I'll join you."

Thank the Force the lift was empty. Qui-Gon wanted no stops on the way to the healers' wing.

"So." Tahl linked her arm through Qui-Gon's and entered the lift with him. "Tell me about Telos." Visually it would have been imperceptible, but Tahl could easily sense her companion stiffen slightly.

Qui-Gon's voice was mild and detached. "I've spoken enough about Telos for one day, Tahl. We found Xanatos. He's dead. May I leave it at that for now?"

"Oh, Qui-Gon," she breathed. "I am sorry. Did you...? You didn't...."

"He took his own life, Tahl."

"I see." She tightened her grip on his arm and pressed her cheek to his shoulder for a moment. "I share your grief, my friend."

"Grief?" Qui-Gon was about to argue that "grief" was an inaccurate word, but he realized in an instant that his protest would be meaningless. He did grieve, for the brilliant boy he once had cherished, and for the dark shell of a man that boy became. So he simply said, "Thank you."

"And how is Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon gave a humorless laugh. "I don't know! It seems Fate has conspired to keep me from my padawan today."

"Your padawan? That's wonderful, Qui-Gon!"

Despite his worry, Qui-Gon smiled. "I think so, too," he said.

"I knew you would find your way back to each other. He belongs at your side." Tahl's sightless eyes sparkled, and her grin was clearly self-satisfied.

Qui-Gon knew what was coming.

Tahl poked him in the ribs, leaned up and smugly whispered, "Told you so."

He swatted her hand away. "Yes yes, I know. That's the second time I've heard that today."

"Ah. Talked with Yoda you have, hmm?" Her imitation was quite good, and she made Qui-Gon laugh. "So where is Obi-Wan?" she went on. "I'd like to see him. So to speak."

"I'm going to him now. He's with the healers, Tahl."

"The healers! Why? Is something wrong?"

"He fought with another student this morning and was injured. They say he'll be fine, but... I've been kept from him all afternoon, and I haven't seen him yet. I don't even know what happened."

"No wonder you're so edgy."

"I apologize for my rudeness earlier, my friend. I just need to see him now, and I didn't want to be delayed again."

"Don't worry about me, Qui-Gon. I can handle your moods. Come on, we're there. Let's go see your apprentice."

After an update from the healers and a warning to keep Obi-Wan quiet and not tax his strength, Qui-Gon and Tahl walked down the hall to the boy's room. Bant stood as they approached and bowed to the two elder Jedi.

"Thank you, Bant, for staying with him, " Qui-Gon said with a cordial clasp of her shoulder. "You are a good friend to Obi-Wan, and a help to me."

Bant glowed at the praise, and smiled up at him. "He'll be very happy to see you, Master Jinn," she said.

"How is he?"

"Tired. He's having some trouble breathing. And... he's been thinking about Bruck."

Bruck? Qui-Gon puzzled at that for a second, but Bant was continuing, shyly. "Um... Obi-Wan told me about Telos, Master Jinn. That you accepted him back as your padawan, I mean. I'm very glad for you both."

"As am I, Bant," Qui-Gon said kindly.

"I knew you belonged together," she said earnestly, emboldened by the master's easy warmth. "I always said you would find your way back to each other."

Qui-Gon sighed with mock weariness. "And my third 'I told you so' of the day is from Initiate Bant, is it?"

Tahl laughed out loud, but Bant was mortified, and her big eyes widened. The Knight sensed her distress and came to her rescue, draping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "That's right, Master Jinn," Tahl said smoothly. "We all knew what was best for you. We just had to wait for you to finally figure it out, didn't we, Bant."

"Uh... yes?" ventured Bant, who wasn't sure how to play along. Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly at the girl.

"Well!" said Tahl. "We should take pity on him. Come on, Bant. Let's leave the master with his apprentice, shall we?" Tahl winked in the general direction of her old friend, and led the girl away.

Qui-Gon sent a little wave of gratitude after her; he turned and opened the door.

Obi-Wan was drowsing when his master entered the room. Qui-Gon stood near the doorway for a moment and looked at his padawan.

The boy appeared as white as the bed linens, and even in this light sleep his breathing seemed labored and shallow. The cardiac monitor beeped quietly, and Qui-Gon listened to the slow rhythm.

He sighed with regret. What had Obi-Wan gotten himself into this time? It seemed ages ago -- and a moment ago -- since they sat together at breakfast. Obi-Wan had been thrumming with energy then, nervous about his probation and anxious to do well before the Council. Now here he lay, still and pale and silent.

Qui-Gon moved to the chair beside the bed and sat. Absently, he trailed a finger across Obi-Wan's cool hand as he studied the boy more closely. This child... he was a part of Qui-Gon now. When had that happened?

The still-damp lashes fluttered, then opened, and Obi-Wan looked at his master as if he'd known he would find him there. He gazed seriously at Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry," he said.

Qui-Gon nodded, accepting the apology for what it was. "Obi-Wan, what happened?" he asked softly.

"Went... to the waterfall. Thought I'd find Bant. But... Aalto found me."

Qui-Gon waited patiently as Obi-Wan drew a slow, ragged breath. "Aalto," he continued, "was Bruck's friend."

Ah. "I see," said Qui-Gon. And he did.

"He's... so angry. I tried... to explain." Obi-Wan's eyelids closed wearily. "We argued. Fought. ...Master, I... Force-pushed him."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured with gentle reproof.

"It was all I could do," he said sadly. "I hurt him. Master Windu... he found us." Obi-Wan dragged his eyes open. "He's... he's in charge of... me. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I've been told," answered Qui-Gon dryly.

"He... talk to you?" asked Obi-Wan listlessly. He already knew the answer.

"We spoke."

Obi-Wan nodded. He couldn't bring himself to ask for details. He felt so tired; it seemed beyond him suddenly to care about his probation, about Mace's opinion of him. But he did wonder something... he had to know....

"Master," he murmured, "Are you... my Master?"

Qui-Gon didn't hesitate. "Yes, Obi-Wan, I am." One large, warm hand moved to rest securely on top of the boy's head, the other clasped the cold fingers that curled limply on the blanket. "And you are my padawan. Things may be a bit more... complicated, now. But nothing has changed between us, Obi-Wan. I promise you that."

"...oh...," sighed Obi-Wan, and his eyes slid closed again.

Tension seemed to drain from Obi-Wan's body, but Qui-Gon noticed the rhythm of the heart monitor had gradually increased. "Padawan? Master Yoda told me you did well before the Council. He was pleased."

"...hmm...." Obi-Wan worked at swallowing. "...said... burden... to you...."

Qui-Gon frowned. "They said you were a burden to me?"

"...why... I... go... to you...." The weak voice died away.

Qui-Gon caught his breath and was very still. He released the small, cool hand he was holding, and pressed his palm lightly to the boy's chest. "Obi-Wan? How are you feeling?" he asked casually.

"Fine," was the whispered reply. Obi-Wan coughed suddenly, and his forehead creased with the pain of it. "...fine," he repeated, and coughed again. Startled, he stared up at his master and tried to speak. "I... I'm...."

"Shh. Calm," Qui-Gon directed. He looked down at his own hand, watched it rise and fall too rapidly with his padawan's quickened respiration. He felt his own heart begin pounding harder in his chest, nearly matching the accelerating rhythm of the cardiac monitor. The master leaned in closely, centering... he closed his eyes and focused carefully, searching....

Abruptly, he sat up, and with a swift surge of Force activated the alarm on the monitor.

Qui-Gon brushed the backs of his fingers along his apprentice's jaw. "Obi-Wan." As though the sound of his name triggered it, a sudden spasm of coughing gripped the boy. His eyes opened, then widened as pain and lack of oxygen panicked him. When the brief attack subsided, Obi-Wan was agitated, confused and afraid.

"The healers are coming, Padawan," assured Qui-Gon calmly. Obi-Wan slid his shaking hand over and laced it with Qui-Gon's, which was splayed comfortingly against his chest. "Stay," whispered Obi-Wan urgently.

Qui-Gon gazed down in wonder at the stark contrast of their linked hands -- at the boy's slender, trembling fingers, so shockingly white against his own tan, broad hand.

T'Vel entered then, and Qui-Gon turned to face him. "He's worsened," he said tersely. "He's been coughing. Pressure's very low. He's bleeding badly."

T'Vel nodded curtly. "Hemothorax. Thank you, Qui-Gon. Leave us, please." He nudged the master aside, and Qui-Gon's heart ached as he tried to untangle his fingers from Obi-Wan's tightening grip.

His apprentice said "No," but Qui-Gon steadily met his pleading eyes, and gently pulled his hand away. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. Be strong. Be well. I'm with you here." He brushed his thumb against the boy's temple, and backed away as two more healers stepped up to the bed. He made himself turn and leave the room.

Tahl was sitting in the waiting room, and she held out her hand to Qui-Gon as he entered. He took it wordlessly and sank into the chair beside her. "He's worse," he said simply.

Tahl squeezed his hand and said nothing.

Unexpectedly, Qui-Gon laughed. "I'm so worried about him!" he said. "Tahl. He's mine. He's my padawan. He has so much to learn. I have so much to teach him. And much to learn from him." Awed, he shook his head. "I need him, Tahl. When did that happen?"

Touched by this uncharacteristic openness from Qui-Gon, and hoping the mood would last, Tahl carefully drew his hand up and pressed her cheek to it. "The will of the Force, Qui-Gon," she said lightly.

"The will of the Force," he repeated quietly. He leaned his head back against the wall. "I think... I promised myself I'd never feel this again. Never allow myself to need someone. But I do. And now I find... not for the wealth of all the stars would I change that." Qui-Gon turned to Tahl. "I have a request," he began.

Mace Windu strode in. "Qui-Gon," he nodded. "Tahl."

"Mace," they replied in unison.

"I've spoken with Aalto, Qui-Gon," the Councilor stated. "And I've come to talk to Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon stood. "No," he said evenly.

"No?"

"The healers are with him right now," explained Tahl. She tugged on Qui-Gon's hand. "Sit down."

Qui-Gon remained standing. "Did you tell that child he was a burden to me?" he demanded.

Mace looked confused, and Qui-Gon continued adamantly. "I want you to stay away from him, Mace. You may not interrogate him now."

"I don't require your consent, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon took a slow step forward, and Tahl pulled firmly on his hand again. "Sit down," she warned in a low voice.

With his eyes trained warily on the other master, Qui-Gon recalled his promise to Yoda. He took a deep breath. "Mace. I am asking you. Don't go to Obi-Wan. The healers would never allow it. He's... he's not doing well. Please."

Mace's stern features softened with concern. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn't realize.... Of course, I will wait to see him."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said stiffly, but relief was clearly evident on his face.

"Sit down, the both of you," Tahl ordered, and the masters found themselves obeying.

"You should know," Mace said as he folded his arms into his sleeves, "that Aalto admitted to starting the fight."

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, and Mace added, "Oh, it was not an altruistic confession by any means. His resentment of Obi-Wan is clear. But I think Aalto was frightened by his own anger and loss of control. It was a relief to him to talk about it. I've asked one of his instructors to work with him, and she's agreed. Aalto seems to respect Master Sedjik. He's intimidated by her at any rate, and that may not be a bad thing. Hmm. I was anxious for Obi-Wan's side of the story."

Qui-Gon looked thoughtful. "Obi-Wan says Aalto is grieving. He blames Obi-Wan for Bruck Chun's death."

"Yes, it appears so," Mace agreed softly. "The child has much to learn. And some healing to do." He glanced at the chrono on the wall, and stood. "Duty calls. I'm running behind." He frowned slightly. "This day has not gone according to schedule."

"No, I don't suppose it has." Qui-Gon's voice was wry. "I know how that annoys you."

Mace merely smiled. "You know me so well," he noted mildly. "And I know you, too." He sighed. "Ahh, Tahl. I could talk myself hoarse reminding him that Obi-Wan is not officially his learner, and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, would it?"

"Well, I'd venture to say yours is the minority opinion on that subject, Mace," answered Tahl pleasantly.

"Perhaps. But the burden of proof still rests with my friend here. And with young Kenobi. Still...." He pressed a strong hand to Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I wish only the best for Obi-Wan. And for you. The Force is with him, Qui-Gon. He will be well."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I know. Thank you, Mace."

The Councilor departed, and Tahl muttered, "Masters. You two make me tired sometimes." She straightened. "Now. What can I do for you?"

"Hmm?"

"Your request," Tahl reminded.

"Oh, yes," murmured Qui-Gon. He turned fully toward her and took her hands in his. "Meditate with me?"

Hours later, Qui-Gon returned to his quarters. He still felt fairly calm and centered as a result of his meditations with Tahl. And he was very relieved that he'd been able, from a distance, to lend support to his padawan as he had hoped to do.

Touching Obi-Wan's troubled mind during his treatment had initially been difficult and disturbing. He'd been thankful to have Tahl's anchoring presence beside him. In time, Obi-Wan had relaxed and responded as Qui-Gon guided him through his confusion, fear, and physical pain, and into a detached but keen awareness of his body and spirit.

Qui-Gon had realized the healers were aware of his presence within their patient, and he was grateful they allowed his intrusion, even welcomed his efforts. As Obi-Wan's agitation eased, the healers had worked to clear his chest and lungs of the blood that had nearly suffocated him. Obi-Wan had eventually stabilized, and he was now very deeply asleep.

It was Tahl who finally convinced Qui-Gon to take a break and return to his quarters for a meal, a shower, and some much needed solitude. But he stood here now in his tiny kitchen, hands on hips, staring at nothing. Hmm. Food? Maybe later.

He wandered into the common room and tried standing there for a while. Gods, it was quiet. Plants need watering, he thought absently. The old-fashioned wind-up chrono on the shelf was ticking away the seconds. He'd always liked that clock. When had it gotten so damn loud? It annoyed him.

He glanced toward his bedroom. Rest? No.

He sighed. Musingly, he walked over to his private study and pushed open the door. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls, and he looked fondly at them like old friends. Data chips would take up much less space, he knew, but... there was no substitute for holding a real book in your hands. The heft of it, the sound of the pages, even the smell of it... these volumes had been his intimate companions for years. They were piled neatly on the floor, were even stacked up on the narrow sleep couch in the corner.

This had been Xanatos' room. Shortly after his apprentice's turning, Qui-Gon had personally removed every trace of the young man from his quarters, save a few small mementos he'd carefully packed away.

Qui-Gon had taken this room back by force, it seemed, had angrily refused to allow it to be haunted by the dark shadow of his former padawan. He'd reclaimed it, filled it with his beloved library, had made himself spend hours here, reading, studying, meditating. It had worked, eventually. Any darkness here, real or imagined, had been dispelled for Qui-Gon.

He loved this room. It was his sanctuary. And he would give it to Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon shed his cloak, and determinedly set himself to clearing away the accumulated clutter of years. He sat on the floor and gathered a stack of books to himself, cataloguing, sorting, then setting aside. He hummed to himself as he began his task. There was much to be done. He had surrounded himself here, with things comfortable, familiar, safe. There was barely enough space for himself, and certainly not space enough for an active, growing boy.

It was past time to make room.

When the door chimed, Qui-Gon straightened and stretched. He looked around with satisfaction, pleased with what he'd accomplished. His private study had been transformed.

The curtains were drawn open and the morning sun shone in, dappling the floor with warm light. The shelves and desk were bare and waiting. The sleep couch was freshly made. The room looked ready. Expectant, even.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he went to receive his guest. It was Tahl, of course, holding a covered tray. "Good news," she said with a smile. "I brought breakfast."

He laughed lightly, kissed her cheek, and ushered her in.

"Please, join me," he said. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thanks. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no. I've been up for hours."

She frowned at him. "You haven't slept at all, have you."

He took the tray from her without answering, and she scowled. "Have you been pestering the healers all night?" she scolded.

"No, Tahl," he said patiently. "I haven't called them once." She looked skeptical, so he explained. "Obi-Wan's shields are lowered. I've been checking on him from time to time. He's still asleep, and doing much better."

"Oh, Qui-Gon, I'm so glad to hear that," she said warmly. She followed him into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway as he prepared the tea. "Your training bond is very strong already, isn't it? Some pairs work for years to achieve that."

"It is strong," he agreed, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "We had a connection from the very beginning, much to my dismay."

Tahl grinned and listened to the running of the water and the quiet clatter of china as he worked. "You're different this morning," she observed presently. "You feel very... cheerful. Are you sure you're all right?"

He laughed again, an easy, relaxed sound that made her tilt her head, assessing.

"I'm very well, thank you," he assured her. He took her hand and pressed a mug of tea into it. "Come with me."

He led her into the common room and they settled comfortably on the floor. "Mmm. Still warm," he said appreciatively as he handed her a muffin. "Did you bake?"

His voice was innocent, but Tahl recognized a joke when she heard one. She snorted. "Don't make me laugh. I sent TooJay to the kitchen for them. That droid occasionally has its uses." She leaned back against Qui-Gon's big chair and took a sip of tea. "Now tell me. What have you been up to all night?"

Qui-Gon swallowed a bite of muffin and said contentedly, "I've been preparing my padawan's room."

"They're letting him return to his quarters? I can't believe they're releasing him so soon!"

"He's not returning to his quarters," Qui-Gon corrected. "He's moving in with me."

Tahl stopped chewing. "He's moving in with you?" she parroted. "That's wonderful! But... oh, Qui-Gon, you're not putting that dear boy in The Cave, are you?"

"The cave? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your cave. That dismal room you retreat to. That place you hide. Your fortress."

"My study?" he queried dryly.

Tahl gestured dismissively. "Call it what you will."

"It's not a cave," he said a trifle defensively. "I love that room."

"I stole a peek at it once, Qui-Gon. It's a cave. How you could meditate in there I'll never know."

Qui-Gon felt a little deflated. "It's not a cave," he grumbled. "And I don't hide."

"Oh please."

"You're being a rude guest," he chided delicately. "But, for your information, I spent the night clearing that room for Obi-Wan. And it looks very nice if I do say so myself."

Tahl put down her cup. "Show me."

"...Tahl."

She tsked impatiently. "I know I'm blind, Qui-Gon. But I can still 'see.' Show me."

Qui-Gon paused, then rose to his feet, pulling Tahl up with him. He put his hands on her shoulders, steered her to the study and pushed open the door.

Tahl entered the room cautiously and stood there for a moment. She stretched out her hand; her golden skin glowed in the sunlight. Carefully, she walked forward until her knee touched the sleep couch, which now occupied the center of the room. She sat down slowly and brushed her hand along the soft blanket. She breathed in deeply.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway watching her, feeling strangely nervous. He waited. When Tahl finally turned to face him, she smiled, and Qui-Gon thought she'd never looked so beautiful.

"He'll love this," she said.

As they walked down the corridor toward the healers wing, Tahl had to skip to keep up with Qui-Gon. "What I want to know," she said as she caught his robe and slowed his pace slightly, "is how in all the heavens you got Mace Windu to agree to this."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I haven't told him yet. He'll find out soon enough."

"Qui-Gon!" Tahl yanked on his sleeve and brought him to a stop. "Is this some kind of power play?" she demanded.

Qui-Gon looked genuinely surprised. "No, Tahl, it isn't. And... that's insulting."

The Knight shook her head and said bluntly, "What's insulting is ignoring Mace's authority in this situation. Don't show him disrespect, Qui-Gon. Like it or not, he is in charge of Obi-Wan right now. You are not."

Tahl couldn't see the annoyed, thin set of her friend's mouth, but she could easily feel him bristle at her comments. "Listen," she said. "If Mace's feelings don't concern you, at least, please, think about Obi-Wan."

"What do you mean?" he said in clipped tones. "Obi-Wan will be very happy about this."

"He'll be thrilled," Tahl agreed. "And that's precisely my point. You can't march into that child's sickroom and tell him he gets to move in with you, only to have him devastated when he's denied it. That would be cruel, Qui-Gon."

Tahl listened to the angry sound of Qui-Gon's breathing and was faintly surprised when he suddenly said, "You're right."

Qui-Gon sighed, took a moment to release his frustration, and continued calmly. "I'll talk to Mace first. I will ask... permission...," his teeth clenched at the word, "to have Obi-Wan move in with me."

Tahl nodded with approval. "Good."

"But I'd still like to see Obi-Wan right now." He took her arm. "Let's go."

When Qui-Gon saw the little group in the waiting room, he abruptly stopped, nearly tripping Tahl.

Mace Windu and Master Sedjik were talking quietly together, with Aalto Ai'dain standing uncomfortably beside them, fingering the bandage near his left temple. Aalto saw Qui-Gon first, and took an unconscious step backwards.

"Um," said Aalto in an inarticulate attempt to announce Qui-Gon's presence. Mace and Sedjik glanced up.

Qui-Gon eyed them warily. "Why are you here?"

"Master Sedjik has requested that Aalto be allowed to see Obi-Wan," explained Mace.

"He may not," Qui-Gon calmly informed them.

"The healers have already consented, Qui-Gon, and so have I," said Mace easily. "This is no concern of yours."

"No concern..." stammered Qui-Gon in disbelief, as Tahl exclaimed, "Mace!"

Mace blinked, then spoke with faint but sincere regret. "I am sorry. I phrased that badly. But... Qui-Gon, this is a matter over which you have no authority."

Qui-Gon's shaking hands opened and closed impotently, and he slowly folded them into the sleeves of his robe. Tahl tightened her grip on his upper arm, and he felt simultaneous gratitude and annoyance at her restraining presence.

The silence lasted only seconds, but it seemed painfully long. Aalto looked ready to flee; however, it was his whispered aside to Master Sedjik that broke the stillness. "If... if he doesn't want me to...." he tried meekly, and Sedjik sharply said, "Hush."

The diminutive master took a step toward Qui-Gon, who was fairly vibrating with controlled anger. Her brown eyes were strong-willed but warm, and she held out a conciliatory hand. "Qui-Gon, allow me to reassure you. My request is intended as a correction for my student, and a learning experience for both boys. The visit is an apology. I intend no harm or disrespect to you or your former apprentice."

"He is not my former apprentice," seethed Qui-Gon. "He is my padawan."

"Qui-Gon...," grated Mace, his exasperation poorly veiled. He blew out a breath and suddenly turned to Aalto and Master Sedjik. "Go. See Obi-Wan. The decision is mine to make, and I've made it." He looked pointedly at Aalto. "Keep it brief. Keep it civil. Now go."

Sedjik put her hand on Aalto's shoulder and guided him away. The boy glanced back nervously as though afraid Master Jinn might attack from behind. He saw Qui-Gon's expression and picked up his pace.

Speechless, Qui-Gon watched them go. He barely noticed when Tahl left his side.

The Knight strode forward, stretching a hand before her until it met Mace's solid chest. "Master Windu, a word with you, please," she said quietly.

Mace's eyes sought Qui-Gon's. Their gazes locked and held, even as the Councilor allowed Tahl to lead him from the room.

Once alone, Qui-Gon pulled his clenched fists from inside his robe. He stared down at his hands and flexed them slowly. Powerless, they trembled.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Tahl, dropping all pretense of decorum.

Mace's brows rose in surprise at her tone, but he was given no chance to respond.

"I no sooner lecture Qui-Gon about showing you disrespect, when you casually diminish him with a callousness that amazes me! And I accused him of playing power games!"

Mace shrugged her off, irritated. "I'm not playing games. I have a job to do, and I'm doing it. And I don't have time for speeches from you, Tahl."

"Well, make time, Mace!" Tahl heard the uncharacteristic fury in her voice, and immediately fought to calm herself. When she spoke again, it was with a reassuring trace of her usual humor. "You know, you should be thanking me for your rescue. Qui-Gon was about to go for your throat. Force knows I wanted to."

Disarmed, Mace smiled wryly. This was the Tahl he knew and liked so well. "Qui-Gon has a good friend in you," he said as he led her to a nearby bench. "He doesn't deserve you, Tahl."

"Of course he doesn't. Don't change the subject."

Mace sighed wearily as they sat. "Tahl, I'm not trying to be difficult or cruel. I agreed to Master Sedjik's request because I felt an apology between these boys was perfectly reasonable and appropriate. It will be good for them both."

"You're probably right about that. But Mace. Put yourself in Qui-Gon's place. He cares so deeply for Obi-Wan! That child is the first person he's allowed into his heart in nearly ten years, and you're trying to shut him out of his life. I'm sure you have logical reasons for your doubts about their relationship, but please. Please don't tie Qui-Gon's hands. I know his defiance frustrates you. But he'll acknowledge your authority if you'll just allow him a role in this process."

Mace looked down into her green and gold eyes, which were focused earnestly on his left shoulder. He gently lifted her chin toward his face, and Tahl smiled somberly at him. "You say you want what's best for both of them," she persisted. "So talk to Qui-Gon. Listen to him. Consult with him about Obi-Wan." She shook her head. "You can't expect him to stop caring for this boy, Mace. You can't. Please respect his feelings."

After a long, thoughtful silence from her companion, Tahl was once again surprised to hear, "You're right."

Qui-Gon studied his hands, resolutely steadied them, then lifted his head. He strode grimly off toward Obi-Wan's room.

But he stopped a few paces into the hallway, his attention drawn to the scene before him. From a discreet distance, he watched as Master Sedjik spoke softly to Aalto Ai'dain. The boy was many years younger but several inches taller than his teacher, and he looked down into her face seriously, nodding in acquiescence at whatever she was telling him. Then Sedjik reached up, patted his cheek, and gave him a little push toward the door. Aalto opened it slowly, peered inside, then went in.

As the door closed behind the boy, Qui-Gon advanced down the hall and Sedjik caught sight of him. He saw her lift her chin and steel herself for a confrontation. But he merely approached and stood non-threateningly before her. "Do you trust him?" he asked quietly, his eyes beseeching her for honesty.

"Not as far as I can throw him," answered Sedjik frankly. "But he will behave with Obi-Wan. I promise you that."

Qui-Gon nodded, then gazed pensively at Obi-Wan's door. He had a fierce urge to throw it open, fling Obi-Wan's attacker from the room, and carry his padawan back to the sheltering walls of the new home that awaited him. To hell with Mace Windu and his Force-forsaken authority.

The need for restraint galled him. But for the sake of his future with Obi-Wan, he would find the strength for surrender.

Sedjik considered his profile, the rigidity of his shoulders and the flicker of tension in his jaw. "You never thought you'd take another apprentice, did you, Qui-Gon?" she asked candidly.

"No," he murmured.

"Neither did I. But I'm about to ask that undomesticated child in there to be my padawan. Can you believe it?"

"No," he repeated, turning to her with the vaguest hint of a surprised smile.

Sedjik sighed. "I'm too old for this. But what can I say. I love a challenge."

The two masters turned back toward the door, contemplating.

"The Force moves in mysterious ways, doesn't it, Qui-Gon?" Sedjik remarked, pondering.

"Very mysterious," agreed Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan was resting quietly, eyes closed, waiting patiently for the one he knew would come. He felt sore and weak, but immeasurably better than yesterday, and he intended to display nothing but reassuring strength to his visitor. When he heard the door open, he raised his eyes in welcome... but his smile died on his lips when he saw, not his master, but Aalto Ai'dain standing in the doorway.

The other boy stood awkwardly, glancing from the foot of the bed to the cardiac monitor and back. Finally, he cleared his throat and lifted his face toward Obi-Wan, focusing somewhere in the vicinity of his pillow. "Hello," he muttered. "Obi-Wan."

"Hello, Aalto," answered Obi-Wan slowly, his eyes narrowing with distrust.

When Aalto made no move to progress their conversation beyond the opening pleasantries, Obi-Wan said, "So... what are you doing here? Does Qui-Gon know you're here?"

Aalto's eyes shifted nervously. "Um... yeah. He, uh... knows."

"Oh," said Obi-Wan, surprised.

"He's really mad, though," volunteered Aalto. He managed a half-hearted sneer. "Guess he thinks I'm dumb enough to attack you even though you're strapped to a machine and this place is crawling with masters."

Obi-Wan swallowed. "But... you're not dumb enough to do that, right?"

Aalto shrugged. "No. I guess not."

"Well... good."

"So. You're hurt pretty badly, huh?"

Aalto seemed a little too self-impressed for Obi-Wan's taste. "Oh, I'll live," he responded, nonchalant. "Sorry to disappoint you."

His visitor snickered at that, but Obi-Wan refused to join in. He'd stopped being intrigued by Aalto's presence and was ready to get to the point. "Why are you here, Aalto?"

Another shrug. "Windu and Sedjik said I should apologize to you, so.... Sorry."

Obi-Wan's interest abruptly returned. "They're making you apologize to me? Why?"

Aalto shifted his feet, and it was clear he wanted to avoid the question. "Because... I told them the truth," he mumbled. "Told them I started the fight."

Obi-Wan stared at the other boy, open-mouthed. "You told.... I... I was sure you'd lie! You told the truth? I can't believe you told the truth!" Raising his voice was a mistake; Obi-Wan choked on his words and coughed harshly. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around himself in desperation, trying to control the breathtaking pain in his chest.

Aalto looked alarmed when the coughing persisted, and he took a few faltering steps toward the bed. "Hey. Hey, stop it. You need a drink?" He quickly poured out a glass of water from the bedside table and thrust it at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's eyes were screwed shut tightly and he made no move to accept the glass. He focused on his pain, releasing it as best he could. When his coughing subsided, he lay there weakly, concentrating on slowing his respiration and heart-rate.

Once he'd recovered himself sufficiently, he opened one eye and surveyed the very startled boy who hovered near the bed. "You told the truth," he murmured with profound amazement, knowing full well his words and tone were insulting.

Aalto set the water glass down hard, carelessly spilling on the tabletop. "Yeah, I did. Guess I'm just a really great guy. Sorry I hit you."

"And kicked me," Obi-Wan helpfully reminded.

"Yeah, that too," said Aalto impatiently. "I have to go, Obi-Wan." He took a step backward.

"Wait." Obi-Wan turned serious. "Wait, Aalto. I'm.... I know you're upset about Bruck, and--"

Aalto interrupted angrily. "Let's do this without talking about Bruck, all right? I will not speak to you about Bruck!"

Obi-Wan bit his lip, and nodded.

Aalto caught his breath, disturbed by his emotional outburst. "Look, just... accept my apology and apologize back so I can go, okay?" He tried to assume a cool, aloof air, and resumed his earlier preoccupation with Obi-Wan's pillow.

But the fierce, lonely grief Aalto was hiding washed through Obi-Wan with staggering intensity, leaving him guilt-stricken and distressed. It stole his breath, reminding him of the desolation he'd felt at his own friend's death. He shut his eyes, suddenly afraid the tears he had shed during Bant's visit might return to humiliate him again. Force, he'd thought he was over this. Where was his control? He needed Aalto to leave. "I accept your apology," he said in a heartfelt whisper. "And I'm sorry, too. Very sorry."

Obi-Wan's obvious anguish and sincerity seemed to unbalance Aalto, robbing him of the bitter animosity which had been his refuge since Bruck's death. Confused, he drifted toward the door. "Okay, well... I'll go then." He paused and looked back at Obi-Wan, who lay pale and unmoving, eyes closed, face turned away. "Obi-Wan?" he said, hesitating. "Get well, and... may the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan turned his head, stunned, but Aalto was already slipping out the door.

In the hallway, Aalto walked past the two waiting masters without a word or glance. Sedjik looked up at Qui-Gon, concern furrowing her brow, then she strode off to catch up to her student.

The apprehension Qui-Gon had been prudently banking flooded him again, and he quickly pushed through the door into Obi-Wan's room. At first, his apprentice seemed not to notice him; the boy gazed beyond him unseeingly, an empty expression on his drawn face.

Slowly, Obi-Wan looked up at his master. Qui-Gon watched as the blank features dissolved into a bewildered sadness. Oh, he looked lost.... Qui-Gon swept to his side, seating himself by the bed and taking Obi-Wan's cold hand into his own.

The comforting gesture seemed to upset Obi-Wan, and though he didn't pull his hand away, he turned his face from Qui-Gon and brought his other hand up to cover his mouth.

Qui-Gon felt it then, and saw it; the faint tremors that seemed to take control of his padawan's body, shaking his limbs and his shoulders almost imperceptibly.

Obi-Wan spoke, more calmly than Qui-Gon would have expected. "Master. May I be alone, please?"

Qui-Gon ignored the request. "Did he hurt you, Obi-Wan?" he asked in a soft voice that hid his tension well. If this enforced visit had harmed his padawan in any way, Qui-Gon would not forgive Mace Windu, would not forgive himself for allowing it to happen....

But Obi-Wan shook his head. "No." His voice was muffled. "He apologized, he wished me well." His hand began to shake within Qui-Gon's, and the master pressed it more firmly between his palms.

"I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan suddenly gasped. "I don't know what's wrong with me!" He drew a quick, shuddering breath and tried to pull his hand away, but Qui-Gon only tightened his grasp and reached out to capture the boy's other wrist, pulling it down, exposing the naked grief and shock that twisted Obi-Wan's young face. "Oh," breathed Obi-Wan, embarrassed. "Go! Don't...." He couldn't finish the sentence, and he bowed his head away, ashamed.

"I'm not going to leave, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon quietly informed him. His fingers brushed Obi-Wan's chin, bringing the anguished face toward him. "Don't turn from me, Padawan."

Obi-Wan was unwilling to look up. "I'm all right. Please go. Please, could you--" His breath hitched in his chest, startling him. His desperate efforts at control were failing, he was failing.... "I'm sorry," he whispered again, an edge of panic in his voice. "I'm... I can't...." He finally raised his questioning eyes, bright with fear and unshed tears. "Master," he pleaded.

Carefully, Qui-Gon leaned over and drew his trembling apprentice into his arms. Mindful of the boy's agitation and his fragile physical condition, he pressed Obi-Wan's head to his shoulder, resting his cheek on his padawan's hair.

Obi-Wan hadn't been held like this since he was a young child, and he wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't want to be weak, didn't want to need this.... but the warmth and safety he found in his master's embrace overwhelmed him; the tears spilled from his eyes. "What is this?" he whispered. He winced as a sob wracked his injured body.

Qui-Gon slid a hand to the center of the boy's chest and eased the pain with a gentle wave of Force. "You've been injured, you're tired, drained," he said, his voice soothing and patient. "Your control is affected, Padawan. Don't be afraid." He listened to Obi-Wan's struggle for composure. "Is this about Bruck?" he suggested softly.

Obi-Wan murmured brokenly into his shoulder. "I don't know... I think so... and...."

"Shh. You're fine. We haven't had time to deal with this yet. We will. It's all right."

Obi-Wan could hear no censure in Qui-Gon's voice, no reprimand for his shameful lack of control. There was nothing there but compassion, nothing but strength, affection, support.... With a gasp, Obi-Wan gave in. He wrapped an arm tight around his master's waist, his fist clenched urgently into Qui-Gon's tunic, and he cried.

Mace Windu backed silently from the doorway and leaned against the corridor wall, dazed. He'd come looking for Qui-Gon and had found... well, Qui-Gon. The Qui-Gon he once knew. The warm, open man that Mace feared had left the Jedi Order on the same day Xanatos did, nearly ten years before. But here he was again -- kind, strong, unreserved, sometimes tender-hearted to a fault -- and big as life in the next room.

Mace shook his head in wonder, a smile growing, brightening his dark eyes. He'd feared his old friend was lost, replaced by a remote Jedi master who Mace often felt was a stranger to him.

Somehow, Obi-Wan Kenobi had found Qui-Gon Jinn.

Mace laughed softly. He'd have to thank that boy.

Obi-Wan's tears gradually slowed and stopped, and he lay quietly, finally at rest. His hand still clung limply to the back of Qui-Gon's tunic, his head was pressed to his master's damp shoulder. He felt exhausted, and utterly incapable of moving. He lay still, allowing himself to be comforted by the warm breath in his hair, the warm hand on his back, the rhythm of the heart that beat beneath his cheek. He could fall asleep here, he thought wearily.

Oh, Force. What if he fell asleep here. What a baby, crying himself to sleep in his master's arms. What Qui-Gon must think of him! Awkwardly, Obi-Wan lifted his head and drew away from his master's embrace.

Qui-Gon settled his student carefully against the pillow, and smiled. "Feel better?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Yes. Thank you, I...." He noticed the sodden patch on his master's tunic, and grimaced. "I got you all wet."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "It'll dry."

"I'm... so sorry, Master. I haven't behaved like that since...."

...Cerasi. Obi-Wan fell silent, remembering his grief and the soul-numbing loneliness that accompanied it. There had been no one to hold him then, no one to turn to for comfort. He'd nearly lost himself in his mourning.

Qui-Gon nodded, knowing where his apprentice's thoughts dwelt. He reached out one finger and neatly wiped away a tear that clung to Obi-Wan's jaw. "It's all right, you know. Don't be ashamed of your grief. Don't fear it. It has its time and place, Padawan."

The master held his student's gaze. "There will come times you must remove yourself from it, though. Duty first, Obi-Wan. It is the nature of our calling, and you understand this, I know."

"Yes. I do," said Obi-Wan.

"But it is necessary to confront your emotions, not to suppress them. Examine your feelings about Bruck's death, Padawan. Know yourself. And know this: You were not responsible for his fall. His choices, his mistakes, and the power of the Dark Side led to his death. You did what you could to save him."

Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan's tentative nod of acknowledgment, then said, "Meditation will bring you peace. And I will help you."

"Thank you, Master." There was a wealth of gratitude in the quiet voice.

This scene was familiar. Qui-Gon realized that he and Yoda had said nearly the same words yesterday, when they'd spoken of Xanatos. He was struck by the symmetry, by the natural cycle of things -- death and life, injury and healing, guilt and pardon. Masters and Padawans.

He could imagine Obi-Wan replaying this scene in the future, with a child as yet unborn. A knight offering strength in his padawan's struggle with darkness and pain. Obi-Wan would be a good master. Qui-Gon smiled. They were links in a chain that stretched back through a thousand generations, and, Force willing, would stretch through a thousand more.

But for the present, there was healing to be done, his own and Obi-Wan's. They would work through this together -- their grief, their guilt -- and would emerge stronger, as master and padawan, and as Jedi.

Qui-Gon ached to tell Obi-Wan of his plans, of the new home that waited for him. For them both. But... duty first. Qui-Gon sighed. Mace Windu first.

Qui-Gon looked down at his padawan. Exhaustion painted dark shadows beneath the still-bright eyes. The boy was watching him, no doubt curious about his master's thoughtful silence.

Obi-Wan spoke timidly. "Master, may I ask...."

"Anything."

"About... Telos." Obi-Wan found himself unable to say Xanatos' name to his master just now.

"Yes?"

"Master, have... have you found peace?"

Qui-Gon didn't speak for some time, and Obi-Wan wished he could take back his presumptuous question.

Finally, carefully, Qui-Gon answered with honesty. "My Padawan, when I speak to you about facing your emotions, about not suppressing them.... I speak of a lesson I have been very slow in learning. I hold much about Xanatos within me, much that remains to be conquered. I still seek peace. I will for some time."

Obi-Wan was moved by the candid reply he'd been honored with. He reached out and tentatively touched Qui-Gon's hand. "Master, what you said to me about Bruck.... Your words are very wise." He dropped his eyes, but his voice was earnest as he softly quoted, "You were not responsible for his fall. His choices, his mistakes, and the power of the Dark Side led to his death. You did your best to save him."

Astonished, Qui-Gon regarded his young apprentice. He reached down and pulled free the braid caught beneath Obi-Wan's shoulder, running it absently through his fingers. "You have helped me so much already, my Padawan," he reflected, "and you don't even know it. You've helped me to put the past in its place. And to make room for the future."

Suddenly, Qui-Gon dropped the braid, tousled his padawan's hair in a surprisingly affectionate gesture, and stood. "And I must tend to the future now, I think," announced Qui-Gon with a smile. Abruptly he turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, "Rest well, Obi-Wan. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Mace Windu. Where in seven hells was Mace Windu, grumbled Qui-Gon. For two days the man had habitually appeared when he was least welcome, and now when Qui-Gon actually wanted to see him he'd disappeared.

The Council wasn't in session, Mace wasn't in his offices or rooms, he taught no classes at this time... not in the training halls, not in the gardens, no one had seen him... where the devil was he hiding himself? Frustrated, Qui-Gon pushed through the door of his quarters.

...And found the object of his fruitless search sitting placidly on his sofa. Drinking his tea, reading one of his books, and eating his last muffin.

"Master Windu." One eyebrow arched sardonically. "No need to stand on ceremony. Please, make yourself at home."

Mace glanced up from the book and swallowed his mouthful. "Qui-Gon. Good muffins. Did you bake?"

Qui-Gon stared at him. "No, Mace, I didn't bake."

"Oh." Mace raised his mug. "Care for some tea?"

"A gracious offer. No no, don't get up. I believe I know where everything is."

Clearly, sarcasm had no effect on Mace Windu. The man merely nodded and resumed reading. Qui-Gon stood staring for a moment longer, then moved into the kitchen, poured himself a cup and returned. He watched as Mace licked his thumb and turned a page.

"Good book," murmured Mace.

"I know," said Qui-Gon.

Finally, Mace looked up, as though truly noticing Qui-Gon for the first time. "Forgive me!" He set the book aside and motioned to a chair. "Please, have a seat."

"Too kind," said Qui-Gon, sitting.

For all of Mace's outward ease and insolence, Qui-Gon sensed a bit of discomfort from him. Interesting. Mace had certainly never felt uncomfortable lecturing him before, and Qui-Gon could only assume that's why Mace had lain in wait for him here -- to lecture him once again about Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon steeled himself. He had sought out Mace with one goal in mind: to be granted permission to take in Obi-Wan despite his probationary status. Qui-Gon resolved to listen calmly to the inevitable speech. He was prepared to acknowledge Mace's authority -- his temporary authority -- over Obi-Wan. He was prepared to acknowledge his own lack of official recognition as Obi-Wan's master, if that's what the Councilor wanted so badly to hear.

Mace cleared his throat. "Qui-Gon. We need to clarify some things between us."

"I agree."

"Do you? A promising beginning. First thing we've agreed upon in some time."

"True."

Mace paused, and for a moment Qui-Gon thought he seemed uncertain of how to proceed. Most unusual. But the moment passed, and Mace inclined his head. "Tell me. How is Obi-Wan?"

"As well as can be expected. His injuries are healing adequately." Qui-Gon looked down, studying the cup dwarfed within his large hands. "But much has happened in the last months. My... Obi-Wan... is recovering from many things."

Qui-Gon knew Mace noticed his avoidance of the word "padawan." It was a small concession, perhaps, but Mace would understand how it cost him to yield on this.

The Councilor leaned back and steepled his fingers. Qui-Gon waited; he had offered an opening, and Mace was too skilled a duelist not to press the advantage.

"Your Obi-Wan is a challenge for me," Mace began sedately. "He has been my charge for only one day, and an all-consuming task it has been, too. Though it occurs to me that my interactions with the boy have been practically non-existent. Instead, I've spent much of my time defending myself from you."

Submission was not typically in Qui-Gon's nature, though he could acquiesce with ease when needed. Well, perhaps not with perfect ease. "Master Windu, I apologize. Despite your reprimands, I've had poor success at inhibiting my concern for Obi-Wan. My desire for his well-being has led me to be less than cordial to you, and I am sorry."

Mace smiled to himself. A backhanded apology, but he would accept it. "I, too, am concerned about Obi-Wan," he said mildly. "He will need care during his recuperation, and my schedule won't permit me to provide the attention he needs. Qui-Gon, I wanted to advise you of this personally. I have decided to release Obi-Wan into the custody of a guardian."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. So this was why Mace had come to see him. To urge his cooperation, his non-interference as Obi-Wan was given to another's care?

"Mace. Please..."

"Hear me out, Qui-Gon. I understand your concerns, and I want to assure you that I've selected the boy's guardian carefully. He'll be in the best possible hands."

"Mace--"

"Once he has recovered, Obi-Wan's probationary period will begin in earnest. His guardian will assist with meeting the terms of his probation and will consult with the Council to determine when the boy isto resume duty as a padawan."

Qui-Gon drew a steadying breath. "Mace. This guardian. Does he know Obi-Wan? Does he know what he's been through recently? If I could speak with him, I could--"

"That won't be necessary, Qui-Gon."

A pause, then Mace leaned over and pried the cup from Qui-Gon's hands. "You'll shatter this if you're not careful," he muttered. "Now." He frowned. "About your quarters. They simply won't do."

Qui-Gon looked up slowly. "My quarters?"

"I have a reputation as a stern man, Qui-Gon, but even I wouldn't consign Obi-Wan to The Cave."

"...The cave.... Mace?"

"That's what we all call it, you know. Hardly a fitting room for a young boy. Surely you can't expect him to move in there."

Qui-Gon blinked. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "It's not a cave," he said quietly. "It's Obi-Wan's room. Let me show you."

After a conversation with Obi-Wan's healers, Qui-Gon slipped quietly into the boy's darkened room. He found that his apprentice wasn't alone.

Master Yoda was perched on the bed, his gnarled hand resting on the sleeping boy's shoulder. The old Jedi's eyes were closed, his mouth pursed into a thoughtful frown of concentration.

Qui-Gon moved to leave, but Yoda opened his eyes and beckoned to him. "Healing well, he is," he grunted softly.

Qui-Gon nodded and glided silently to the bed. "The healers say he may be released tomorrow."

"Take him home you will, hmm?"

"Yes," said Qui-Gon, surprised. "You know about this?"

"Spoke with me, Mace Windu did."

Qui-Gon studied him. "Master, was my guardianship of Obi-Wan your suggestion?"

"Interfere I do not, Qui-Gon," Yoda said with a scowl. "Mace's own idea it was. Sought my approval he did."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I thank you both," he said sincerely.

"It is as it should be." Yoda turned and contemplated Obi-Wan, whose face was serene in sleep. "This one," he murmured, "much to accomplish he has, and strong he must be. Guide him well, Qui-Gon."

The enormity of the task before him weighed on Qui-Gon for a moment. He knew with certainty that he was meant to train this boy. And yet, for so many years, he had vowed that his days as a teacher had ended. Learning to trust himself again was far harder than trusting another apprentice.

Yoda held out a hand, and Qui-Gon took it obediently. The ancient master pressed Qui-Gon's hand to Obi-Wan's heart, and covered it gently with his own small claw. "Patience he will need," intoned Yoda. "Much patience to fulfill his destiny, and this you must give him. Prepare him, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, but looked at Yoda with a troubled brow. His voice was hushed. "Master Yoda, what do you see?"

Yoda's eyes narrowed. "Uncertain the future is. Clouded, dark. A great task, I see for him. Much courage he will need, and this he has. But help him to learn patience you must."

"My Master... I will," Qui-Gon pledged.

Yoda shook off his somber mood and slanted a look at his former padawan. "Happy you are. This I've not felt from you in some time. Pleases me it does."

"I am happy," said Qui-Gon, sounding faintly amazed.

Yoda patted Qui-Gon's hand. "No longer do you need The Cave, my Padawan. Prepare it for Obi-Wan you should, hmm?"

Qui-Gon gave an exasperated sigh. "The room is ready, Master, as I've already told Mace and Tahl."

Yoda chuckled. "Good friends you have, Qui-Gon. Care for you they do." He began to carefully struggle his way off the bed. "Waking, your apprentice is. Leave you with him I will."

The old master limped to the doorway, mumbling quietly to himself. "A Jedi is Obi-Wan, and full of Light. Good for you he will be." Qui-Gon knew he was meant to hear.

Obi-Wan felt his master's presence next to him as he awoke. He kept his eyes closed and reached out to sense his mood. Qui-Gon had left so abruptly before, with vague but determined words about looking to the future. Obi-Wan had been very curious, and had intended to stay awake until Qui-Gon returned, but the light healing trance he'd begun had quickly deepened into slumber.

Qui-Gon was back now, and his apprentice sensed... peace. Satisfaction. And a faint undercurrent of... anticipation?

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see his master in profile, gazing thoughtfully toward the open door. Sensing his regard, Qui-Gon turned to him, his expression warm and solemn. Obi-Wan smiled at him.

"Well, here you are," Qui-Gon greeted softly. "Padawan. I've spoken with the healers, and they're pleased with your progress. They are willing to release you tomorrow."

Obi-Wan was glad to hear it, but there was more to this story, he could tell. He waited, his eyes locked to his master's.

"You will need care as you recover, though. Mace Windu has appointed a guardian for you, Obi-Wan. Someone to tend to you as you heal, and to assist with your probation."

Obi-Wan held still. Please.... He swore he would gracefully accept whatever he was told, but... please....

Qui-Gon's eyes were calm, his voice was low and steady, and Obi-Wan listened carefully, waiting for the words.

"I am your guardian, Obi-Wan, and I intend to remain your master. Your home is with me now, if you so desire." He paused. "Is this what you wish?"

Obi-Wan released a breath and spoke with a formal composure that was beyond reproach. "Yes, my Master. It is what I wish." Suddenly, the loneliness and uncertainty of the past weeks seemed to drain away, and for all his lifetime of training, he couldn't suppress the joy that overwhelmed him. He laughed, elated. "I've never wished for anything more!"

Qui-Gon matched his apprentice's delighted expression with a smile of his own, his deep blue eyes alight. "Then tomorrow, Padawan, I'll take you home."

This is ridiculous, thought Obi-Wan as he was escorted through the Temple corridors. Say something, he hissed at himself. Force, he felt awkward.

"Feels good to be leaving the healers," he said, extremely cheerfully.

"I imagine it does," came Qui-Gon's genial voice from behind him.

The silence resumed, broken only by the soft, annoying hum of the repulsor chair that carried the young Jedi along. Obi-Wan surprised himself by sighing audibly. His eyes widened; he hoped fervently that his sigh sounded merely content, and not unhappy.

He had been in an agitated state of nervous excitement all morning, had barely touched his breakfast tray as he waited for Qui-Gon to come for him. He'd chided himself, reflecting that, from the creche through the academy, every student at the Temple dreamed of moving into the masters' wing to begin a new life as a padawan. And after several months of a tumultuous, uncertain apprenticeship, his day was finally here... so why did he feel so melancholy?

Qui-Gon guided him past a training hall, where a group of students stood chatting after class. Obi-Wan recognized several of the padawans who had stared at him two mornings ago in the dining hall. They seemed even more curious now, and Obi-Wan tossed them a pleasant smile as he passed.

He sincerely wished this ride was over.

"Would you like to stop?" Qui-Gon spoke for his ears only.

"No!" said Obi-Wan quickly. "No, I'm-- Let's keep going."

Qui-Gon steered him along for another five interminable minutes, then turned a corner into a hallway Obi-Wan had never been in before. To his alarm, his dismay increased, and he fought desperately to release it before Qui-Gon could sense his unease.

Ohhh... too late. Qui-Gon abruptly halted their progress in a small, garden-side alcove. He crouched down beside the boy, his expression grave.

Obi-Wan felt awful, and dropped his eyes to his tightly folded hands.

Qui-Gon looked expectantly at him for a moment; "Obi-Wan?" he softly prompted.

Obi-Wan knew he had just been asked a question, but he feigned ignorance in an effort to dispel Qui-Gon's concern. He brightly replied, "Yes, Master?" and was crushed to feel a quickly censored flash of disappointment from Qui-Gon.

The apprentice lifted repentant eyes. But his master's features were solemn, not stern. "Talk to me, please," Qui-Gon instructed gently.

"I am sorry, Master, I'm not...." Obi-Wan sighed, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "Obi-Wan. If you've changed your mind--"

"No, Master!" Obi-Wan shook his head earnestly. "Of course not! I've wanted this forever, I always have, I--" He stopped, suddenly understanding. "Just not like this," he concluded quietly.

"Not... like this." Qui-Gon placed a hand on the hovering chair and raised his brows, inquiring.

Uncomfortable, Obi-Wan shrugged. "I always imagined moving into your quarters... walking into your quarters... as your padawan. Not... as a burden."

"Obi-Wan."

"I'm glad you're my guardian," Obi-Wan said hastily. "And I'm grateful you want to care for me, that's very kind, but...."

"Kind!" laughed Qui-Gon fondly. "I suppose it is. Well, Obi-Wan, masters and apprentices have to rely on one another for help from time to time. In the years to come, you will doubtless be called upon to care for your old master. Unfortunately, I can assure you of that." Qui-Gon tilted his head to meet the boy's lowered eyes. "And understand this, Obi-Wan: The Council may call me your 'guardian', for now. But you must know that I consider you my padawan. Never my burden."

Qui-Gon studied him for a moment longer. Then he held out his hand.

Obi-Wan glanced up curiously. He placed his hand in Qui-Gon's, and was astonished when the Jedi stood, cautiously helping him up, supporting him with a strong arm. Qui-Gon nodded at the door directly across from them. "We're home, Padawan. Walk with me."

Obi-Wan was happily insensible to any physical pain or weariness as he slowly crossed the hall at his master's side.

"You realize," murmured Qui-Gon as they walked, "that if the healers catch us, my tenure as your guardian will be very brief indeed."

Obi-Wan grinned and tried to limp faster, but Qui-Gon stayed him with a firm hand. "Carefully, Padawan. I'll risk the healers' wrath but not your health, if you please."

"Yes, my Master," said Obi-Wan, relishing the words as never before.

Two more steps, and they were there.

Qui-Gon palmed open the door and assisted his apprentice into his -- their -- quarters. He felt Obi-Wan hesitate in the doorway, felt the gentle shimmer of the Force as Obi-Wan subconsciously took measure of his new surroundings.

Obi-Wan's curious gaze wandered the room. He noted the simple but comfortable furniture, the abundance of green plants, and the intriguing collection of belongings: a multitude of real, bound books, the old-fashioned wooden clock on its shelf, the low meditation table in the corner with its single, large candle. Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's surprise and pleasure as the boy noticed two meditation mats on the floor and recognized one as his own.

"I like this!" murmured Obi-Wan. "It... feels like you."

Qui-Gon smiled and felt himself relax. He was startled to realize he'd been anxious for his padawan's approval.

Obi-Wan swayed suddenly, and Qui-Gon tightened his arm around him. "The tour can wait, I think," he said lightly. "You are going straight to your room." He guided Obi-Wan across the floor, and pushed open the door to his former study.

Obi-Wan caught his breath. This was his room. He could feel it. Sunlight spilled through the window, shining on the neat study desk and the narrow sleep couch with its quilted blanket. His own lightsaber hung on the wall nearby. Near the ceiling, his model ships blinked and circled quietly. And his stone -- his birthday stone from Qui-Gon -- rested on the bedside table.

Obi-Wan looked up at his master, his eyes warm with emotion. Qui-Gon smiled at him and helped him to the bed, settling him in carefully. As Qui-Gon fussed with the blankets, Obi-Wan reached for his stone and slipped it into the pocket of his medical-issue robe. "I missed this," he said quietly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "I thought so. Be still, now." The master laid his hands lightly on Obi-Wan's chest and closed his eyes. He tested delicately for heart rate and pressure, then sent the boy a comforting wave of healing warmth. Obi-Wan sighed gratefully.

"Rest well, Padawan," said Qui-Gon. He straightened to his considerable height, then swiftly ducked as he was nearly struck in the head by one of Obi-Wan's toy fighters.

Obi-Wan did a terrible job of stifling his laughter, disguising it as a cough which quickly turned into the real thing.

"Very amusing," Qui-Gon dryly admitted, stooping again to pat the boy's back soothingly. "I suppose I'll have to get used to those."

"Sorry, Master," choked Obi-Wan.

The door chimed then, and Qui-Gon excused himself to answer it. He was delighted to find Tahl there -- holding another plate of muffins.

"I baked," she said with a grin. She handed him the tray, blew him a good-natured kiss, and started back down the hallway.

"Thank you, Tahl!" he said with a laugh, and she casually waved back at him.

"Oh, don't thank me 'til you've tried them."

Touched by her kind gesture, Qui-Gon looked after his friend for a long moment, then stepped back inside. That's when he noticed the note.

He unfolded the small piece of paper, and read:

Obi-Wan -- welcome home.
Qui-Gon -- welcome back.
Force be with you both,
Tahl
(Bant helped me bake these,
so they might actually be good.)

Qui-Gon tucked the note into his robe with a smile, and called to his padawan. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, Master!"

The rest of the morning was spent in easy conversation in Obi-Wan's room, with Qui-Gon surprising both himself and his padawan by reminiscing about moving into Yoda's quarters as a young apprentice. The image of a very lanky, very awkward Qui-Gon settling in among Yoda's tiny furnishings was hilariously inconceivable to Obi-Wan, and he held a pillow to his ribs to ease the ache of his laughter. The time passed quickly, until Qui-Gon demanded that his padawan sleep for a while.

Dusk had fallen. Qui-Gon found himself squinting at his book in the half-light, when he sensed that Obi-Wan had awakened in the next room. He allowed the boy some time to himself, then tapped lightly on Obi-Wan's door.

He found his padawan gazing out the window at the colors of the sunset, clearly lost in thought. Obi-Wan turned to him, his expression solemn, his green eyes serious.

"Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Master...." He spoke unhurriedly, musingly. "Did this room belong to Xanatos?"

Qui-Gon paused, then pulled the desk chair to the bed and sat. "Yes, Obi-Wan. This was Xanatos' room. Does that trouble you?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, concentrating. "I... I can't feel him here," he said thoughtfully. "Can you?"

"No, Padawan." Qui-Gon shook his head slowly. "Not any more. But he was a presence in this room far longer than I should have allowed. I've realized--" he trailed off, then corrected himself with a smile, "That is, wiser friends have helped me to realize that he was not truly gone until I prepared this room for you."

His apprentice seemed unable to speak, so Qui-Gon softly continued. "This is your home, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your home, Force willing, until you are raised to Knighthood. Can you find peace here, my Padawan?"

Obi-Wan nodded, warmed by the feeling that he was exactly where he belonged. "Yes, my Master. I already have."