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Alternate, part 2

by Trudy West (truwest@hotmail.com)

Qui-gon's return to Coruscant was uneventful. He gave the Council a report on the war recovery efforts on Naboo. Neither they nor he mentioned Ben Altern. The healers pronounced him well along to full recovery.  Friends and acquaintances expressed gratitude for his returning health and congratulations on his padawan's ascension to knighthood. 

He kept his name off the active duty roster. He needed time. For what, he wasn't certain.

Qui-gon wandered the Temple like one of the mythical restless spirits of the dead. He responsibly exercised, studied, gave advice when asked. But nothing engaged him. The Temple, the ancient awe-inspiring structure and its myriad of inhabitants, seemed as unreal and hazy as a bad holo. 

Despite his sense of isolation, he found himself choosing to spend more and more time alone.

Yet his rooms felt like a cage.

He had come full circle. Many years, countless assignments, multiple padawans later, and here he was, considering his future as he had not since he was a new-made knight. Back then, he had eagerly looked forward to a lifetime of missions in the service of the Jedi. Now he looked forward to - what?

The Force whispered to him, vague but insistent, of other destinies.  

One image kept coalescing out of the murk of his uncertainty. Ben Altern, hiding his face and clasping his hand like a timid child.  

 "How's the gestation going?" asked Mace one night over latemeal.

"The what?" Qui-gon asked.

"The gestation. You've been brooding over something since you got back, and I was wondering when it might come to fruition."

Chuckling, Qui-gon said, "That's an image I won't be able to get out of my head, Mace."

"I hope something will come out of your head at some point, Qui. You can't obsess forever."

"I don't intend to. I just need some time. I sense there's something new I need to discover and move toward.  I never thought I'd say this, but the idea of returning to the standard run of missions leaves me cold. Perhaps that phase of my life is over and there is another way I can serve the Order."

"Teach here at the Temple," Mace suggested.

Qui-gon snorted. "No, thank you. Not permanently."

"Jedi are needed in many capacities, my friend. When you decide on a direction, I'm sure we can accommodate it."

Qui-gon nodded, then said, "Mace, I'd like to hear your opinion of Ben Altern. As a person, not as an information source for the Order."

Mace fixed him with a considering expression. "I'm surprised you hadn't asked me about him before this. My opinion of him? His Force abilities are - frankly, bizarre. There are stranger cases in the Healer's files, but not many. There were so many influences and injuries: Initiate training; partial Agricorps training; his own illicit self-study while a teenager; Xanatos' torture; Qui-gon's training him, while both of them were mentally damaged; the formation and loss of the pairbond; blowback from the attack on the Emperor; the timeline dislocation--they all add up to a fantastic muddle. Certain talents of his were extended, others truncated. Unfortunately his connection to the Force is so tenuous and erratic that he can't do anything consistently. That aside, I wish he were interested in working with the Order in some way - perhaps in Temple operations, perhaps with the gardens. I'm sure we could find a place for him. But he avoids Jedi." 

"What is he like, compared to Obi-wan?"

Mace pondered, tilting his glass idly back and forth in his hand. "They are different people, but one can see how the same boy produced the two men. Obi-wan and Ben are both intelligent, strong-willed and persistent to stubbornness.  Their demeanor is similar: controlled, but with a great deal going on under the surface.  They both commit themselves without reservation when issues touch their consciences, and they're fearless about risks to themselves. They can be impulsive, but when they stop to consider, they are honest and insightful - about their own weaknesses, in particular. 

"As for how Ben is unlike Obi-wan--.Obi-wan is fully at home in the Order, whereas Ben...Ben never found a place for himself. It's not just the timeline cross - even back in his own universe, he was adrift. Ben was devastated when he failed to be selected as a padawan, and his stint with Agricorps didn't engage him, he was just dutifully going through the motions. He saw the Temple fall. He killed people, saw people killed, including his own friends among the Jedi. He was tortured, bonded and widowed. All this by the age of twenty. Then he wandered for a few years, living hand to mouth. He might have found a home in the Rebellion, but he was with them only a short period of time before the timeline breach. He needed time to recover from all those upheavals, and time was what he never had. The most stabilizing event in his life was that pairbond. If the other Qui-gon had survived, if they had built a life, or even just had more time together--Ben might have developed a greater sense of psychological security. Or perhaps then his bondmate's death would have torn him apart even more than it did. Impossible to say.

"Ben was tested in ways that Obi-wan and the rest of us can barely imagine. His whole universe fell apart as he watched. He'll never again have the sense of security that we take for granted. We teach Initiates that crude matter and even death is an illusion, but how many of us feel the truth of that in our bones? Ben does. If he's fortunate, he'll find some kind of peace with that knowledge. If not--it's a pity. Sadly there are many unhappy souls out there. He's just one more." Mace took a contemplative swallow of his drink, then fixed his gaze back on Qui-gon. "Was that what you wanted to know, Qui?"

 "Yes, that's it," Qui-gon said, but it wasn't quite the truth. He still felt dissatisfied.  But he wasn't sure what else there was to know.

The things that were haunting Qui-gon were in the past, or had never even existed in this timeline. But he couldn't stop thinking about them - the collapse of the Republic, the fall of the Jedi, that other Obi-wan, that other Qui-gon. Every time he completed a long meditation session, believing that finally he had purged these obsessions (as Mace had called them), they returned. Images, questions, speculations. Daydreams and night dreams. If was as if a window had opened up inside his head, looking out into a multitude of timelines. Perhaps this is what the Unifying Force is like for those talented in it, he thought - an infinitude of possibilities, no certainty anywhere.  It felt very alien to him.

He needed to move past this. He had to try something else to exorcize these ghosts. 

He decided to talk to Ben Altern.   

Qui-gon rehearsed that one voice message, with its one intended recipient, more than he had rehearsed speeches that he had delivered in front of tens of thousands.

"Ben, I hope this message finds you well. The Council confirmed what you told me. I regret that our time on Naboo was so short. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you further. You can reach me at this address, and if you get my recording, please don't hesitate to forward to my pocket comm. Contact me when it's convenient for you, don't worry about the Temple time cycle. I hope to hear from you soon."

He played it back, listening carefully for tone - the correct balance of professional politeness and warm overture - and then sent it. And prepared to wait.

Ben heard the message with a mixture of excitement and dismay. A spasm of pleasure-pain had hit him at the sound of the man's voice. It occurred to him that he could keep the message in his comm files, replay it, and inflict that feeling again. That adrenaline rush seemed like proof that he still loved Qui, still remembered him, even after all these years.

But what could Master Jinn want with him? 

There were so many possible answers to that question that he couldn't begin to consider them all. 

His Qui had had a reputation for iconoclast behavior and pursuit of odd sidebar issues. Perhaps this Qui-gon did as well. "Chasing mynocks," Qui had said his last padawan had called it, as in, "The Council is unhappy that you're chasing mynocks again, my Master." It had become a joke between the bondmates. 

He wondered why the request had come directly from Jinn, and not from Master Windu, who was Ben's traditional contact with the Order.  Did Windu know that Jinn had messaged him? Ben considered sending Windu a short for-your-information, then decided against it. Windu was busy. This was trivial. Besides, it seemed underhanded to tattle to Windu without Jinn's knowledge. If he later decided it was appropriate to bring in Windu, he'd notify Jinn first. That was only courtesy.

He ended his session and left the public transport facility where he'd checked his comm account. Ignoring the request wasn't an option; he was answerable to the Order, and so considered himself bound to reply to a message any Jedi sent him. But he hadn't been commanded to answer immediately. He could delay a few hours, or a few days. But eventually he would respond.

Qui-gon was in the midst of a sparring session when his pocket comm whistled. He halted the match and retrieved the device. "Jinn here."

The voice from the comm said, "Master Jinn, this is Ben Altern."

"Can you give me a short time to get back to my quarters?" Qui-gon asked. He had begun to doubt that the man would return his overture. It had been almost a tenday.

"Certainly."

Qui-gon rushed to his rooms, wiping the sweat as he went. No time to clean up; he could scarcely ask Altern to wait while he showered.

He took a moment to collect his breath and his thoughts, then opened the channel on his wallscreen. Ben's full-size image appeared above the waist, perfectly groomed and composed.

"Thank you for replying," said Qui-gon. "For the first thing, I'm reversing the charges. You shouldn't have to pay for this discussion."

"As you prefer," said Altern serenely. "It sounds like you expect this to be a lengthy conversation."

"I don't know. Not necessarily. But there's no reason you should be out credits when I'm the one who asked for this talk."

"How can I be of assistance, Master Jinn?"

"I wanted to say that I regret not knowing of your existence for these past years. I understand the Council's reasoning, but I'm sorry that we haven't had the opportunity to become acquainted. I'm hoping to remedy that."

"Why?" asked Altern simply. 

"Several reasons. Partly obligation. You are that other timeline's Obi-wan, and as his Master here, I'm one of the persons who should logically be concerned with your welfare. You were cast into our universe with nothing and have made your way through life with few resources. That doesn't sit well with me."

"I'm content with what I have, Master Jinn. You have no obligation in this. You aren't the cause of my dislocation into this timeline, or anything else that led to my present life. Please don't assume any responsibilities on my behalf."

"I'd like to assume a few responsibilities, if you'll let me. You interest me. Certain episodes in your past appall me, but you yourself interest me. I'd like to make some kind of place for myself in your life, if that's acceptable to you."

Altern's change of expression was slight, but it implied consternation. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it seems that a Jedi Master would have better uses for his time that to befriend an unimportant civilian."

"You're not unimportant to me. And at the moment there is no better use of my time. Don't think this is pure generosity. I'm serving my own agenda as well. I'm at a crossroads, undecided, and the Force is telling me to talk to you."

Altern's face shifted marginally into something that could be fear. "I don't know how I can help you. I don't know what you mean by a crossroads. I would think the Healers would be a better source of guidance than I. Or Master Yoda, or Master Windu. Anyone else. I'm not even a Jedi."

"Please don't distress yourself about my situation," said Qui-gon. He had alarmed the man unnecessarily. "I'll take care of my own decisions. I just wanted you to know that I didn't contact you on a whim. This is important to me, for multiple reasons."

"Then I'm honored to be of assistance," said Altern, bowing his head gracefully, but managing to subtly convey resignation.

An idea suddenly occurred to Qui-gon, unexpected but it felt right. "I'd like to visit you, if I may."

Altern's eyes widened. "Visit?" he cracked, an octave higher than his previous voice. "Ah, um." The vid image hesitated while Altern sorted out his response and recovered his earlier calm. "I don't understand why, but of course, if you think it's necessary."

"If you'll give me your location, I'll make arrangements."

"I am at the disposal of the Order," said Altern formally. "However I am leaving here, probably at the end of this tenday. I'm not sure where I will be after that."

"Sooner rather than later, then. Where are you?" repeated Qui-gon.

"The planet Gdelia, in the Expansion region. I'm working for the main health care facility at Gdelia Capital."

"I'll make arrangements and let you know when I'm arriving. And thank you. I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me in this."

Altern bowed again, nothing left to say, it seemed.

"Until later, then," said Qui-gon, and ended the session.

Qui-gon stared at the blank wallscreen, reviewing the conversation, evaluating the responses, looking for unspoken issues, as he would with any mission communication. Altern had been polite, if unenthusiastic. His graceful obedience had been uncannily reminiscent of Obi-wan in his formal senior Padawan mode. Other than that, Qui-gon had picked up nothing - no sense of emotion, sending or aura through the Force. Aside from that momentary surprise at the proposed visit, Altern had been as reflective and impenetrable as a mirror.

Qui-gon sighed and took his chilled sweat and faint sense of disappointment into the fresher to wash away with hot water. 

Ben took himself back to his room in the complex. It had been a trial to have a coherent conversation with a flushed and sweat-soaked Master Jinn. He could almost smell the remembered heat of his mate, after exercise, or after sex--

He lay in bed, ignoring his erection, clasping his hands stubbornly behind his head. He needed to separate the reality of Master Jinn from his memories of his bondmate. So he shouldn't masturbate. Nothing to link the two men in his mind any further than they already were.

According to Qui-gon's research, Gdelia supported a large surface stripmining industry, with an attendant population of several million. The planet wasn't easy to visit, as most of its regularly scheduled transports were designed to service its mines, not its nonexistent tourists; Gdelia was a place one avoided unless absolutely necessary. As this wasn't official Jedi or Senate business, it took him some effort to arrange transport. His arrival would be close to the end of the tenday. Qui-gon left a message for Altern, asking him to respond back to confirm.

Altern contacted him promptly. "Unfortunately your arrival is the day before I depart," he said. "Should I adjust my schedule, Master Jinn?"

"No, not at all," said Qui-gon. "I'm pleased to spend any time with you, even if it's brief." One day should be enough for him with Ben Altern, to ask about whatever topics came to mind. That other universe. Those other men.

He detected a prickle of emotion. Altern looked calm, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety.

Qui-gon said, "Does this worry you? Or frighten you?"

"No!" said Ben vehemently, fidgeting in his seat, his eyes shifting. "It's just...you remind me of him. The other Qui-gon. It's...unsettling. I'm not accustomed--but I'll get past it. I'll be fine."

"I understand. Perhaps we should cancel this visit," offered Qui-gon.

"No, I - no. Please don't be put off by my poor reaction. I would like to see you. Please do come."

"Very well," said Qui-gon, doubting the sincerity of the words. But having pushed the visit, and finally having received a clear invitation from Altern, it seemed perverse to decline it. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll meet you at the port, Master Jinn. Good journey."

Ben stared blankly into space after the session ended.  So that was it. It was planned. Jinn was coming.

It still didn't feel real. But then, nothing really did to him, ever.

One day. It was only one day. It might be wonderful. To be near Qui-gon again, even if it was a stranger and not his bondmate. It might be terrible, if he was a disappointment to the man. He was a poor substitute for this Qui-gon's Obi-wan, who was a full Jedi, an accomplished Knight. Jinn might know that intellectually, yet not be prepared to see it in person. 

Well, there was no changing the facts: the formidable Master Jinn was coming, and would take stock and make up his own mind, as he always did. Ben could only hope to make a positive but honest impression. Whatever Qui-gon's illusions were, they would meet with reality soon enough.

Master Jinn. He had to remember to call the man Master Jinn. This was not Qui.

"Going to see Ben Altern? What for?" asked Mace, abruptly sitting upright and putting on his Council member face.

"It seems like the right thing to do," said Qui-gon.

Mace raised an eyebrow. "You can't rescue everyone, Qui. I'm not sure you need to take on a hard-luck project right now. You've bagged your annual limit bringing that wild child back from Tatooine. Go spend time with him, if you feel like meddling somewhere. His Master would be glad of the help."

"I'm not looking to meddle. It's this alternative timeline problem. I need to learn more, get some sort of direct experience with it, so I can resolve my feelings about it, and move on. Ben Altern is our only contact with that other timeline, so I'm going to talk with him."

Mace looked at him keenly, then sat back into his chair. "You're not doing him any favors, you know. The twin of his dead bondmate, dropping by for a little interrogation--you're probably given him an anxiety attack already."

"I thought about that, tardily, and asked if he wanted to cancel, but he said not. It's only for one day. I'll cut it short if he seems unduly stressed."

Mace harrumphed. "If he's anything like he was twelve years ago, you'll know if he's stressed. An inability to speak, followed by convulsions, tends to be a bit of a giveaway. Do me a favor, though, and keep me informed. You'll be the first Jedi who's been near him since he arrived. I talk to him occasionally, but I can't get anything over the holo or the vid, his shields are quite effective. I'm sure he's changed, I just don't know in what ways, or for better or worse. I'd like to hear your opinion afterwards."

            Qui-gon's transport arrived early in the planet Gdelia's day. The city of Gdelia Capital was much as Qui-gon had expected from his previous experience with extraction industry worlds: dirty and crowded, with an emphasis on mechanical efficiency, not quality of life.

As he disembarked into the chaos of an overcrowded port facility, he caught sight of Ben Altern standing off to one side, out of the flow of travelers.

"It's good to see you, Master Jinn," Altern said, without stuttering, and indicated the way out of the arrival area.  "I'm afraid that I have a commitment this morning back at MHC. It's menial work, not at all interesting - I'm sure we could find something more pleasant for you to do -"

"Not at all," said Qui-gon, wondering if Altern were trying to avoid him already. "I came here to see you, not to enjoy Gdelia's undoubtedly fascinating cultural attractions. We have little time together as it is."

Altern nodded in acquiescence. "We can take a taxi. It would be more comfortable."

"What do you usually do?" asked Qui-gon.

"Mass transit. It's cheaper."

"Lead on."

 The train was loud, badly ventilated, and filled to capacity, mostly with humans, a few aliens in the blend. Qui-gon stood close to Ben. It was too noisy to speak. The crowd ignored Ben but stared at Qui-gon, who met the other passengers' questioning eyes with an amiable look.

"Jedi aren't often seen here," shouted Ben above the clamor.

The train rocked violently around a corner, passengers grabbing for handholds. Ben was thrown against him but immediately regained his balance, gave a quick apologetic smile and looked away. Qui-gon couldn't read any emotion behind Altern's mental walls. Ben's shields seemed more reliable than they had been during their encounter on Naboo. Qui-gon wondered he'd been practicing in anticipation of this encounter.

They exited out into the fresh air, or what passed for fresh air on Gdelia. The view between the sooty buildings was hazy with pollution. Qui-gon discreetly wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"I assume you read up on Gdelia Main Health Center before you left?" At Qui-gon's nod, Ben continued, "Then I won't repeat what you already know. It's chronically underfunded and shorthanded. They'll be flattered to have a Jedi taking an interest."

"My interest is with you, not with them," Qui-gon said. "But I'll be polite."

He followed Ben into a large building and in through an inner door, the guard staring at the sight of Qui-gon's Jedi robes.  

They walked through a maze of hallways typical of a high-volume public health facility: a multitude of doors, some open, some closed; patients of all species and conditions walking, lying, sleeping, talking, screaming; facility personnel wearing medical gear and purposeful expressions.

They exited a lift onto a quieter area.  Ben palmed open a door. Behind was a supply room in a schizophrenic state: half the room was orderly and relatively clean, the other half a fire-hazard jumble.

"Please try to get comfortable, somewhere. This will take me some time," said Ben. "I promised J'mae that I'd finish this for him."

"Don't they have droids for this kind of work?" asked Qui-gon. If necessary, he would commandeer one. He would really rather not spend his few hours with Ben Altern in a cluttered storage room.

"Not enough. Cleaning droids they have. But droids for higher-level tasks are harder to come by, and they tend to get pressed into patient care. This isn't going to be very interesting for you, watching me do this. Are you sure you wouldn't rather see the sights and meet me later, Master?"

That 'Master' gave him an odd chill, it sounded so like Obi-wan. Qui-gon reminded himself that he was here to see Ben Altern in Ben's chosen environment, not to remove him from it. Removing his robe, Qui-gon said, "No, I'd rather stay with you. But I won't laze about while you work. How can I help?"

            They were sorting meds, tossing about conversational gambits that never quite took off, when a babble of voices permeated from the hallway, cumulating in the eruption of people into the room. A harried man steamed up to Qui-gon and said over the tumult, "Master Jedi, I'm Rogan Jain, director of Gdelia MHC. Forgive me, I had no forewarning of your arrival. Please, how can I be of assistance?"

"I'm Qui-gon Jinn, and I'm here unofficially, Director," Qui-gon said mildly, "to visit with Ben Altern." The crowd stilled when he spoke, then looked at Ben, who was standing off to the side. 

"Ben Altern?" The director looked quizzical, then an aide whispered in his ear. "The Agricorps contractor? Is there any difficulty, Master Jinn?"

"No difficulty. This is a friendly visit," said Qui-gon.

"While you're here, I hope you'll get a proper tour," said Director Jain, rallying. "We're the largest heath care facility on Gdelia. The staff and patients alike would be thrilled to see a Jedi."

Qui-gon paused, not wanting to leave Ben, but not wanting to rebuff the director either.

"Please go ahead, Master Jinn," said Ben. "I'll be taking a meal in the commissary at midday, if you care to find me there. I'll look after your pack."

He hesitated again, reluctant to leave Ben here like a servant, tending his luggage, but Ben gave him pleasant smile and turned back to his work. Qui-gon took that for acceptance, and turned to the director. 

After several hours' escort by the director and his entourage, Qui-gon managed to shed all hangers-on and find the commissary, full of creatures busily eating and conversing at full volume.

Ben approached, gestured towards the serving line, and they made their selections, paid, and sat to eat.

"How was the tour?" asked Ben, with a twinkle in his eye that might have been humor.

"Tedious," Qui-gon said. "I regret that it took precedence over time with you."

Ben said, "It's to be expected when you show up in full Jedi attire. Best to be generous to your admirers, it's good for public relations. I got quite a lecture from the assistant director for not notifying them that a Jedi was arriving." That twinkle again. Qui-gon decided it was definitely humor.

Qui-gon said, "Why did you come here, of all places? Surely you're not here to reorganize their supply closets."

"No, the closet was a favor for an acquaintance who's been helping me out with other things. As for my real purpose here, after midmeal you can see for yourself." 

Ben led him a short distance from the hospital, to what appeared to be a large warehousing facility. Qui-gon felt a density of Force energy that stood out from the mass of sentients in the city around them. He had a suspicion that, through several doorways, was proven correct.

The interior of the structure had been rebuilt as an enormous greenhouse. Not a recreational garden, but a production environment, with row on row of plants in tiers rising towards the ceiling, fed by an aquaculture system and lit by grids of lamps.

Ben said, "Agricorps determined that around 40% of Gdelia's pharma needs could be met by a local growing operation. This will lower the costs of some of the most common drugs by 80% or more. We have nine different environments represented, each supporting a variety of useable species. Using accelerative techniques, the initial harvests are now ready to process. That was my job, to get the first phase of the supply side established and locals trained to support it. Several experts in pharmachem processing have set up a lab in this same complex, and out of that will come finished product for Gdelia Main and its secondary clinics."

A diminutive Sallustan appeared from behind a cascade of foliage and nodded at Qui-gon. "This is Pian Puren, who's taking over the growing systems," Ben said by way of introduction. "She and I need a few hours to complete my transition out. You're welcome to join us, or entertain yourself elsewhere."

"I'll look around, if you don't mind," Qui-gon said.

The Sallustan muttered in her native language at Ben, drowned out in Qui-gon's hearing by the rush of water nearby.

"My stutter comes and goes, Pian, and I suspect that it will reappear in a minute. I still have my emitter and don't plan on getting rid of it anytime soon. Now, let's review our list -- when we ended yesterday, we still had several items..."

Ben and Pian Puren moved away from him and he let them go, turning away to slip between the tight-spaced rows of vegetation. Some of the specimens he recognized. The space was designed for efficiency, with light-loving plants on the upper rows, and shade-lovers in the lower ranks.

Over the next few hours, he leisurely observed each of the environments, which ranged from a desert with scorching heat lamps to an underwater tank in which a worker with a breathing gill swam amidst a kelplike forest. The staff peered at him curiously, but no one challenged his right to be there. The power of the Jedi robes again, he thought.

Only one being objected to his presence. In one damp environmental chamber, he was confronted by a four-legged creature whose body, not including its extensive tail, was about as long as his arm. The pointy-snouted felinoid reared back on its hind legs and emitted aggressive percussive barks.

Amused, he said, "Easy, little one." He could feel its mind: alert predator thoughts, annoyed at the invasion of its territory by a bulky stranger. He radiated calm until the creature subsided. But it followed him as he continued his wandering.

Something puzzled him. The plant communities looked mature and well established, and their collective Force aura was strong and healthy. According to Qui-gon's limited knowledge of accelerative techniques, there was no way that these ecosystems could have stabilized so quickly. 

He circled back to find Ben and Pian Puren in a conference room, completing their meeting. Ben was using a vocal emitter, which he had attached to his tunic collar. It had the flat mechanical overtones of the cheaper models, a travesty compared to Ben's elegant voice.

"Don't let me interrupt," Qui-gon said as they turned to him.

Ben reached up to switch off the emitter, opened his mouth and spoke normally, with (it seemed to Qui-gon) a sense of relief. "We were just finishing, actually."

Pian Puren clapped her hands, laughed that staccato Sallustan laugh, and said something to Ben that Qui-gon didn't catch.

"That's very observant," Ben replied, rising from the table. "You're correct, my voice is much better when he's around. I see you've found our mascot," gesturing at the felinoid creature who still shadowed Qui-gon.

"Rather she found me," said Qui-gon. The creature padded over to Ben and sniffed his shoes.

"I found her on the street," said Ben, scratching the beast's head. "Someone's lost pet, escaped or dumped. She wouldn't last long outside, she's a fossa, needs foliage and humidity. The more watery ecosystems are fine for her, and enough wiprats manage to get into the warehouse to keep her happy - they give her something to chase. Everyone's become quite fond of her, haven't they, Pian?"

The Sallustan nodded, then said something about a departure.

"I have a transport out tomorrow. It's been a pleasure working with you. Stay in touch. I'll be eager to hear how the next phase goes."

Pian Puren patted Ben's arm, waved at Qui-gon, and waddled off.

"Up for a stroll?" asked Ben. "I'd like to stretch my legs. We can leave your pack here."

Ben's definition of a leg-stretching stroll turned out to be a journey of several hours, during which the day ended, painting a brilliant sunset in the smoggy sky. "Yes, the sunsets are one of the few beautiful things about Gdelia," said Ben when Qui-gon commented upon it.

They walked on and on, thorough industrial areas, low-end housing, bazaars, business districts, getting on and off public transport at intervals. There was no obvious pattern, but Ben seemed to know where he was going, and commented on the areas and inhabitants as they passed by.

They dined at a streetside cart, eating with their fingers. Qui-gon brought up his question about the rapid growth of the pharma ecosystems, asking if Ben had noticed.

"You're right," said Ben. "I can't fully explain it myself. I've been using the Force to encourage their development, as I used to do back in Agricorps, in the other timeline. But I never had such positive results there. I'm not sure what's different here. My meditative sessions have been unusually intense. Several times I've come out of them only when the staff got worried after a day or two and slapped me silly to wake me up."

Intense Force efforts directed at living systems could entwine the Living Force energies of practitioner and subject and cause a risky comatose meditative state. Qui-gon decided not to make any comment to Ben, and changed the subject.  "How did you come to Gdelia in the first place?"

"I knew my presence on Naboo wasn't required anymore, after my vision had substantiated -"

"Your vision?" Qui-gon remembered that Mace had said Ben's sense of the future and past could overwhelm him at times.

Ben said, "My prescience is unpredictable but vivid. I dream things, or imagine them, or envision them, whatever you want to call it. Past, present, future, this timeline or another, it can be hard to tell. In this instance, I saw you and Obi-wan fighting that - red-and-black warrior, and you died. It panicked me - a creature strong enough to take down a Jedi Master was a serious threat to the peace of the galaxy. And frankly I didn't want you to die, regardless of the cause. It's been a comfort, knowing that a version of Qui-gon was alive here. I saw enough evidence in the vision to deduce that the location was Naboo. So I went to Theed and waited for you to arrive."

"For a year," Qui-gon pointed out. He was surprised how freely Ben was volunteering this information. He had expected the man to be evasive, or to outright decline to discuss any sensitive topics.

"I knew it wouldn't be too long, since my envisioned Obi-wan was still a padawan, and I knew he had to be admitted to knighthood within the next few years."

"So you were the mysterious rifleman in the power plant?"

Altern nodded. "I can handle weapons, from my days with the Rebellion." Ben took the remains of his meal and tossed the scraps to a nondescript small creature lurking hopefully in the shadows. The mangy animal seized its prize and dashed off.

"Ai, don't do that," protested the cart vendor. "It just encourages them."

"They have to eat, just like you and me," said Ben in a friendly tone. "I bought a meal for him" - waving a hand at Qui-gon - "and you didn't have a problem with that."

"That one doesn't look like he'll steal food and piss on my cart, like those little vermin do," grumbled the vendor.

Ben grinned at Qui-gon, then sobered as he tried to regain his train of thought. "Now what was I - ah yes, Naboo. When I was making plans to leave Theed, I contacted Agricorps to see if they had any assignments that were a fit for me. Sometimes they don't, and I'm left to my own devices, but in this instance, they needed someone to start up this pharmaculture project. Thanks to the Jedi vouching for me to Agricorps back when I first arrived, I have an ongoing relationship with the Corps. I'm not an official member, but I'm on list of individuals who are good for certain types of assignments. I'm willing to take projects that most Agricorps staff find undesirable, due to the conditions of the work."

"What other projects have you done for Agricorps?" asked Qui-gon, trying to put together a more complete picture of Ben in his professional role.

"The most recent one before this was a couple of years ago, on Tatooine."

"Really? I was recently on Tatooine myself," said Qui-gon, wondering at this coincidence.

"Yes, so I heard from the palace grapevine. Myself, I was on Tatooine with the Tusken."

"Tusken Raiders? Whatever for?" Qui-gon asked. That was completely unexpected. He had immediately assumed that Ben had been on Tatooine helping with the ongoing hydrology efforts, the tedious but necessary chore of small-scale terraforming for arid environments. 

"Their bantha calves were dying. It shows the seriousness of the crisis that they put in a plea for assistance from Agricorps. Agricorps was reluctant to send anyone - the Tusken's reputation is well known - but they didn't want to ignore the request outright, and I was willing to go. I found a foreign organism that seemed to be the lynchpin of the mortality syndrome, sent it to Agricorps labs, and they devised an antidote." Ben gave a self-conscious half-smile. "You know, that was one of the few times in my entire life, that I felt that I was valuable, that I really had something to contribute. Made a difference on a matter of importance. Hopefully I'll remember this project on Gdelia the same way."

Qui-gon said, "What about with this Rebellion, or with the other Qui-gon? You must have made a difference with them."

Ben shrugged. "The Rebellion? Neither my Force use nor my physical abilities were very reliable, which meant I wasn't much good for anything important. The damage I had sustained earlier--it was like having a bad leg, you never know when it's going to collapse under you. That covert strike was one of the few things I could do, a suicide mission--what we all thought was a suicide mission, and surely it was for anyone who wasn't lucky or unlucky enough to get thrown across timelines. As the other Qui-gon--our relationship was--unusual, from start to finish. By the time I began to feel really comfortable with it, it was over. I have no idea if he ever felt truly comfortable with it at all." Ben gave him an indecipherable look. "Back to Tatooine. So tell me, what did you think of the place when you were there? Were you in Mos Espa or Mos Eisley?"

Qui-gon told of his visit to Tatooine, including Anakin and the pod race, and Ben reciprocated with stories of the Tusken.

It occurred to Qui-gon that Ben Altern was not what he had expected, in more ways than one. The man was both more open and more closed than he had anticipated. But he still wasn't certain why the Force had directed him to Altern. Ben's mental shields were up, as they had been for the whole day, and Qui-gon sensed nothing but polite hospitality from the man.  Pleasant enough, but he had hoped for a warmer reception, a willingness for friendship.  Perhaps it wasn't to be. Perhaps this was the closure that he needed to put his lingering thoughts about Ben and that other timeline to rest.

  On their stroll back to the warehouse, halfway down a darkened street, several figures detached themselves from the shadows and blocked their way. Ben swiftly positioned himself between Qui-gon and the approaching group of men.

"What you got that's worth having?" called out one.

"We have nothing that you want. Let us pass," said Ben. Qui-gon felt the strength of the Force suggestion.

The front man hesitated, confused. Another pushed past him with a leer. "Oh, you've got something we want all right, pretty boy. Just relax and be friendly. We won't hurt you. And you, if he's yours, just take it easy. We're only going to borrow him for a while. Why don't -- "

A blast of Force energy exploded silently, a brilliant flash like the pulse of a giant strobe. Qui-gon blinked, the afterimage ruining his night vision. Urgent grip pulled at his cloak, seized his hand, and Ben's voice hissed, "Come on, quick quick quick, this way."

They ran for long minutes, dodging vehicles and pedestrians, until Ben slowed to a walk near a brightly lit intersection.

"What was that?" asked Qui-gon.

"Sorry. Too common around here, unfortunately."

"No, I meant that flash. That was you?"

"Yes, me," said Ben. "A few years ago, it happened spontaneously under similar circumstances, but I overdid it -- damaged my vision, and that of the attackers, we all needed medical help. After more practice, I learned how to trigger it without causing any real injuries, to them or me. We could have just fought it out, I'm actually not too bad hand-to-hand, but I didn't know what they were carrying, and you were there. I didn't want to risk anything. This was safer."

Qui-gon said, "Defending with the Force like that can be dangerous, for you and for them. You shouldn't be doing that unless it's absolutely necessary. You should have let me confront them. It's what I'm trained to do."

Ben bristled, instantly transforming his mild looks into a face that would make any opponent think twice. Pinned by those glaring eyes, Qui-gon remembered Ben's sudden flare of temper back at the Naboo port. Then Ben caught himself and lapsed into mannerly acquiescence, shields sealing over again like lake waters smoothing out the ripples of a tossed rock. "Your pardon, Master Jinn. I didn't intend to do something that was unwise or inappropriate. Of course I defer to your experience in this." Ben gave a formal nod, worthy of any diplomat.

That went wrong, thought Qui-gon. Ben had been opening up to him earlier that evening, and with a poorly worded rebuke, he had shut Ben down again. Ben wasn't Obi-wan, a junior accustomed to taking feedback from his senior.  If he wanted to be a friend to Ben, he'd best act like one, and respect Ben's autonomy.

Back at the warehouse, they retrieved Qui-gon's pack from the conference room.

"In terms of where you should stay," said Ben, "there's a decent hotel a few blocks down, and an excellent one a short way further. I wouldn't recommend the smaller places, most of them are brothels."

Qui-gon said, "I had hoped to stay with you. I shouldn't have presumed."

Ben hesitated, then replied, "Of course, you're welcome. I'm camping out in an unassigned office here. It's low on comfort, but it's clean and quiet."

Down a corridor, Ben opened a door to show a small windowless room with a bedroll on the floor, a pack with a small stack of clothes and other personal items. The chair by the desk had a towel draped over the back.

"I did warn you," said Ben. "Want to reconsider on the hotels?"

"Not at all," said Qui-gon. "This is better than I often have."

"I'll make some tea," said Ben. "Then I'll show you the staff fresher. That's the extent of my luxury suite." 

They sat in the common room in the small kitchen, waiting for the water to heat, then the tea to steep.

Ben said, "Qui-gon, will you tell me what this is all about?"

"What do you mean?" Qui-gon noted to himself that it was the first time that Ben had used his name rather than his title.

"The purpose of your visit. What you're really after."

"I told you. I wanted to see you, find out how and where you lived, what you did. Get to know you a little better."

"Ah. A friendly stop by." Ben looked at him sideways.

"You doubt me?" Qui-gon asked.

"I think that Jedi Masters have no time to make random social calls on strangers."

"Do you think of us as strangers?" Qui-gon probed.

"I'm confounded as to what to call us. Technically we are strangers, we've barely spent a single day together. But through our timeline counterparts, and your reading my file, we both know intimate details. Speaking of our counterparts, what does Obi-wan think of this visit?"

"He doesn't know about it, or about you at all, yet."

Ben nodded. "Understandable. It's hard to imagine how to give that news to someone. I can't imagine how the Council told you, and you're less directly impacted."

"Mace gave me a summary via voicemessage, and I think that I am very directly impacted indeed."

Qui-gon was beginning to be able to read Ben's facial expressions. This one was contrition. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to belittle the importance to you. Back to my original question: I would be better able to assist if I knew what you wanted from this meeting."

"I was serious in my answer. I would like us to become better acquainted. In many ways, you're very different from this timeline's Obi-wan. I'd like to get to know you better, and hopefully we can become friends."

"Yes," Ben said quietly, idly rotating a spoon in his good left hand. "I'm sure I am very different from your Obi-wan."

"I didn't say that was a bad thing. Just that you are different persons. You have a number of qualities, including some that seem very fine to me, that he lacks. I have some idea of what went into the making of a thirteen-year-old named Obi-wan. I'd like to find out how that boy became the man you are now."

"All that's in my files."

"No, it's not. The data is there, based upon the memory constructs they pulled from you back at the Temple, but not the spirit. Not how you took those things and alchemized them into the person you are today. Those events in your past could have resulted in any number of personalities, many of them far more angry and disturbed than you seem to be."

Ben intentionally tossed the spoon on the table. "I am angry and disturbed, at times. I just try to turn it to good ends. Agricorps awakened my sense of responsibility for the so-called lower life forms. It's in our treatment of semi- and non-sentient life that we reveal our true beliefs about each other and the universe." Ben shook his head. "I'm rambling."

"Not at all," said Qui-gon. "I agree on the importance of our treatment of those entities different from ourselves."

Ben leaned forward, projecting intensity. "Most Jedi would say so, but they don't have the luxury of acting on that belief. Jedi are so few, and the needs of the galaxy so great, that triage is the Jedi way. Unless the sentient body count reaches a certain level, you can't afford to assign one of your own to a problem. It breeds a kind of elitist arrogance among some of the Jedi, an attitude I had to unlearn after I failed to be selected as a padawan and had rejoin the world of everyday mortals." Ben stopped short. "That was uncalled for. You didn't come here to hear me rant against the Jedi."

"That's exactly what I came here for, if you're sharing what you truly think."

"I do think it. It's one of my three issues with the Jedi. The first is the elitism, which I suppose should be considered an occupational hazard."

"And the second?" asked Qui-gon.

"How initiates are treated. There's no reason for children to have to experience the kind of pressure and rejection that my peers and I went through, at the hands of the people who are considered the saviors of peace and justice in the galaxy. I don't know what the answer is, but there should be a gentler way to do things."

"Reforms to the initiate program have been introduced since you were there - in this timeline, at least. The incident with Bruck Chun convinced the Council of the need to make changes."

"Bruck? What happened with Bruck?" asked Ben with surprise.

"Soon after Obi-wan and I returned from Bandomeer, there were several attacks against the Temple. It turned out that Xanatos was behind them, and he had enlisted Bruck Chun to be his inside contact. It was devastating to think that a boy could be so alienated from his experience at the Temple that he could want to strike back in such a way. We, the Jedi, failed Bruck."

Ben stared. This was obviously news to him. "Was that when, when...he, not Bruck, the other one, died?"

Qui-gon took a guess at who "he" referred to. "No, Xanatos died later. But Bruck did die then. He and Obi-wan fought.  Bruck fell and neither boy was able to cushion the fall with the Force. Bruck struck his head. It was a fatal injury."

Ben looked shocked.

"What happened to Bruck in your timeline?" asked Qui-gon gently.

"He...I thought you knew. Didn't you read my files?"

"Only skimmed them. I felt uncomfortable going into all the details. It seemed too much like voyeurism."

"You...the other Qui-gon took Bruck as his padawan. Qui told me later than he decided he'd made a mistake in not choosing me, and resolved to not let the next initiate in line pass the age limit. I was never sure whether to believe him - I always suspected that he had been very impressed by Bruck, as he wasn't impressed by me, and he glossed over that when I became his bondmate. Given Bruck's potential, I had assumed that he had been chosen by another master in this time, since you had already chosen Obi-wan."

Qui-gon said, "Bruck never got that chance, and it would have been unlikely given his history even if he had lived. He was too dangerous to train at that point. What happened to him in the other timeline?"

"He was killed when the Temple fell. We, that Qui-gon and I, speculated that was one reason why, why," Ben stumbled, then pushed resolutely on, "why we bonded so quickly, because he had a recently severed training bond and I was a Force sensitive of the same age as his dead padawan."

"A bond must still be chosen, at some level. It won't form completely against one's will, regardless of the circumstances." Qui-gon thought they had gotten into deep water very quickly, but he wasn't objecting. He was intensely curious.

"He chose it out of pity for me, and I chose it because I was terrified. Death didn't seem that frightening, it was what we'd have to endure to get there. I thought I'd had a hard life, I'd been beaten up, taunted, had broken bones--some people aren't fond of failed Jedi want-to-bes. But until--all that--happened, I didn't know what real torture was, what it does to your body, much less your mind--And the sex, with Qui, the impact of the sex shocked both of us. He had been celibate for a long time, I hadn't had done anything that intimate before. Even leaving aside the sick nature of the circumstances...it surprised us both." Ben looked down, glanced away, clearly upset but still talking. "Is this what you came here to find out? Was this what you meant when you said you wanted to get to know me?"

Qui-gon said, "Some of it, although I admit we jumped right into the rancor's mouth faster than I expected. I appreciate your openness."

Ben sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his stiff right hand. "It's a relief to be able to talk to someone about it. I've never really--the mindscan doesn't count, you're not really speaking then--It's wonderful to talk about anything, truth be told. Force, it's been so long since I've heard the sound of my own voice, and had it actually sound like me rather than like some low-end droid. I detest the emitter. I should be grateful to have it, but I hate using it."

"I noticed. Why do you think your voice is better around me?" Qui-gon asked.

Ben's expression darkened. "Don't prompt me with questions you already know the answer to. I'm not Obi-wan, or some initiate you're leading about by the nose."

Temper again. But he had set the stage for that, by acting the judgmental Master with Ben earlier that evening. Qui-gon said, "I truly don't know, that's why I asked. I would guess that you're picking up something from me as a Force user, or as the timeline double of your bondmate. I didn't mean to give the impression that I was condescending to you."

Ben backed down immediately. "I apologize, I'm being too sensitive. Other Force users don't reduce my stutter. Only you, apparently. It's embarrassing --I know you're a different person and not my bondmate, I just can't seem to convince all of me of that fact. Parts of me think that they recognize you, including, apparently, my vocal cords. I can handle it, though, don't worry. I won't do anything inappropriate."

Qui-gon thought about the possible responses to that statement and settled on, "It's all right, even if you do, we'll work through it. I'm not that easily offended."

"That's one thing confirmed in common between the timelines, then." Ben drank the last of his tea and stood. "That's enough revelations for tonight. I'm going to clean up and get some sleep." 

"One last thing," said Qui-gon. "You said you had three issues with the Jedi. What was the third?"

Ben laughed without humor. "That in spite of everything, I still wish I were one. Had been one, even if I'd ended up no better off than I am now. Or ended up dead at the Temple with the rest of them. I wanted it more than I ever wanted anything in my life. Well, excepting one other thing. Now let me show you the fresher facilities." 

The locker room was designed for multiple concurrent users.  "Water or sonics, whichever you prefer," said Ben. "We use so much water around here, it was easy enough to route some through the fresher." The younger man casually stripped off his clothes and hung them inside a cleaning unit inset in the wall, saying, "There's plenty of room for yours too, but we need to remember to pick these up tomorrow before we leave."  Ben stepped under one of the spouts, which began gushing steaming water.

Qui-gon followed his lead, shedding his clothes and arranging them for cleaning. He could feel the grit on his skin and hair, and mentioned it to Ben.

"Welcome to Gdelia," said Ben. "Locals call it the Gdelian tan."

Qui-gon set about washing his acquired tan down the drain. He noticed Ben sneaking glances at him, and trying to conceal it.  Fair is fair, he thought. No one gave Ben any reports, vids or holos on me.

When he was finished washing, he turned, wringing the water from his hair, and said, "Go ahead. Take a good look. You haven't had the advantage of a file full of medical records."

Ben seemed embarrassed but took him up on the offer, looking him up and down.

Qui-gon felt a tightness in the air around them. He finished clenching water from his hair and deliberately put his hands down at his sides.  "Am I similar to him, from what you remember?" he asked. 

Ben nodded. "Near identical, although he had more scars. And he lost his right hand."

Qui-gon said, "You'll have to tell me about that."

"Sometime maybe, but not now," said Ben somberly, then quirked a grin. "And you were wrong, actually. I do have one vid of you."

"You do? Wherever from?" asked Qui-gon.

"Master Windu," said Ben. "It was years ago, and I wanted to know what you looked like, for some reason. Maybe I was having prescient visions again, I don't remember. Anyway, I hesitated to ask him, feeling like a moony fan wanting a vid of some celebrity. Then I asked myself why I should care what Windu thought of me. As if he didn't know everything about me already. So I asked. He frowned and said he didn't think it was a good idea, he had no idea why such a thing would be useful for me to have. I was disappointed, but a few days later, he sent a vid to my comm account, no note, just the vid. It's a few moments of you and Obi-wan at some party. Obi-wan is saying something funny that the audio didn't catch, and you're chuckling and giving him a quick clasp around the shoulders. I must have watched it a million times. I finally decided that Master Windu wanted me to know that you were both happy, that things had worked out differently in this timeline."

"That sounds like Mace," said Qui-gon. "Stern on the surface, but kind-hearted underneath."

"Yes, rather like that," said Ben, giving Qui-gon an odd look, then turning away to rinse himself off.

Drying off with a coarse institutional towel, Qui-gon watched Ben sluicing water over his torso, removing the soap. While slim, his figure had the solid density of a mature man, not the youthful limberness such as Obi-wan still retained. Naked, it was easy to see that Ben was chronologically almost ten years older than Obi-wan. Ben was of the age where fitness was maintained by effort rather than taken for granted. And he did seem fit, his body flexible and movements smooth, despite multiple scars and his crippled hand. With that body and face, those graceful movements, many would say that Ben was a beautiful man. A desirable man. Qui-gon pushed that thought away.

Ben turned, stepping out of the flow of water, and Qui-gon noticed an inflamed crosshatched "X" mark on Ben's right flank. "Are you hurt?" he asked. "That looks fresh."

"No, it's another one of my souvenirs. He, the one whose name I can't say, burned me with his saber. I treat it and it goes away, but it always comes back. My body has a mind of its own about these things."

Without thinking, Qui-gon stepped forward and put his hand over the mark, Force healing flowing from his palm.

Ben was stock still, his face turned down and away, for the long moments it took for the mark to fade, the welts to flatten against the plane of his skin.  Qui-gon became aware of Ben's breathing and looked at the sleek hair outlining the back of Ben's skull, slicking over the nape of the neck and ending in a point along the spine.

Qui-gon stepped back and away and said, "I'd best get a change of clothes from my pack. In your room."

"I'll be along in a minute," said Ben hoarsely, his face still turned.

Pulling on leggings, Qui-gon chided himself. Too much, too close, too soon. As the Naboo administrator had warned, he had rushed and disturbed his quarry, who had been coming along very well until then. And he had disturbed himself too. Ben's hip had curved enticingly under his hand. Ben was unusually susceptible to him because of the bondmate similarity, he knew that. He had to be careful. The fact that he found the man attractive didn't help matters.

Qui-gon reached out tentatively through the Force for Ben and sensed the heat of sexual response. He's probably dealing with it in the most straightforward way, he thought, and withdrew behind his shields, to give Ben privacy.

Ben felt Qui-gon shutter himself off and knew that the Jedi Master knew of his condition, and what he would do to alleviate it. Humiliating. To be reduced to this in less than one full day in the man's presence. He had thought that things were going relatively well. He should have known better than to shower together. He had been trying to imitate what he remembered of the casual nudity of the Temple.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax. There was no need for shame. Qui-gon knew well enough who he was, his history. Ben took his erection in a firm grip, thinking of Qui-gon, water dripping along the contours of the other man's body. If through some miracle, that man had been his beloved, he knew how the scene would proceed. He would reach up and take that long wet hair in his hands, pulling the taller man's head down and kissing that stern mouth, feel the tickle of mustache against his lip. They would kiss and touch until they were both well roused, and then he would go down on his knees, hands on the slick floor. His mate would get behind him, touch him to get him ready, then Qui would join them together, and they would be inside each other's minds and bodies and it would be good, so good--

Qui-gon went in search of a comm terminal.  He needed to report to the Council, and this also gave him a reason to be away from the room, away from the nearby fresher.

He found a terminal in a conference room and logged into his Temple account. His first call was to the clinic administrator back on Naboo.

"I've found Ben Altern," he told her.

"Tell him hello from us," she said.

Qui-gon said, "What can you tell me about events at the clinic during Ben's tenure? Any atypical medical situations, unexplained phenomena, anything?"

The administrator frowned. "Our outcome statistics had been on an upswing. They've taken a turn for the worse recently, unfortunately. During that period we also had an unusually high number of what we call miracle cures, for lack of a better term. Spontaneous remissions, that kind of thing."

"Could you send me any data on that?"

"Should I send it to this account that you're calling from?"

"Please." He thanked her, made pleasant small talk about the clinic and Naboo for a few minutes, then disconnected.

His second call also got a direct pickup.

"So you found him?" said Mace. "How's it going?"

"Well enough," said Qui-gon. "Although I admit that I should have checked Ben's records more carefully. There are critical facts that I missed. For example, I didn't know that in the other timeline, Bruck Chun had become my padawan."

Mace said ironically, "I'm not sure what your objective was in requesting the files, if you weren't going to read them."

"I read them, at a high level," Qui-gon said, feeling defensive in spite of himself. "It didn't feel right to read them in detail. Too intimate. I thought I had caught the highlights but obviously not all of them."

"Perhaps that's not a bad thing," said Mace. "You wanted Ben to talk, your ignorance gives him a reason to do so. Are you getting your questions answered?"

"Actually I'm unearthing more questions. Remember how you told me that Ben's Force ability was depleted? Limited and erratic, I think you said."

"That's correct."

"His Force abilities are returning, and some of them are unusual. I don't think he has any idea of how unusual they are. Not being around Jedi, he has no basis for comparison. I'll send you a list of the instances that I'm aware of. "

"Really?" Mace frowned. "The Healers will be surprised. They thought he was permanently burned out. Any problems that you've seen?"

"He hasn't caused any harm that I know of. But it's risky for him, if not for others. He has no advanced training in Force use. He's channeling power with no real understanding of how to protect himself. He's had a few incidents that he's entirely too blasé about, either because he doesn't know how serious they could have been, or because he doesn't care about what happens to himself. Probably both."

Mace's Council member persona made its appearance. "This changes everything. If his Force talents are active again, and at that level, then he's vulnerable. We need to get him to the Temple and evaluate him."

"I doubt that he wants to come to the Temple, Mace. What will you do, order me to drag him there in restraints? I agree that he shouldn't be left alone, but I'm not clear on what approach we should use with him. For the moment, I'll stay close by. I'll be able to tell if he shows any signs of Dark influence."

"You can't follow him around the rest of his life, Qui. But it's a workable solution, for a few days. I'll brief the Council. Let us know anything else you find out."

Clutching a towel tightly around his hips, Ben stepped into his makeshift bedroom, to find that Qui-gon wasn't there.  So he had a few minutes reprieve. He wasn't about to sleep naked around the other man, not after what had just happened, so he quickly pulled on a pair of pants.  He was wondering where the Jedi had got to, when he noticed the lightsaber resting on the man's pack.

Qui-gon's saber. The last saber he had ever held, back there, when -

It was watching him, spying on him from across the room. But that was nonsense. It was just a metal tube.

He felt an overwhelming compulsion to look at it, touch it, see if it was the same as he remembered. The Jedi could return at any minute -

Quickly he knelt beside Qui-gon's pack, reached out, half-expecting the saber hilt to growl at him, or skitter away.  His fingers touched it, cool metal alloy. The hidden Force-sensitive crystal tingled. He gently closed his hand around the hilt, having a bizarrely inappropriate thought about the one other act where he held his hand in such a way, something that he had done only moments ago. The hilt was oversized for his hands. He couldn't tell if it was identical to Qui's saber in the other timeline. It seemed similar, but at the time he hadn't been paying much attention to the weapon itself, because he'd been -

He looked up to find Qui-gon standing over him, and dropped the saber.

Qui-gon returned to the room to find Ben staring mesmerized at the saber hilt cradled in his palm. Wondering what fascinated the younger man so, he stepped forward and inadvertently startled Ben, who dropped the saber and began stammering, "I'm s-s-sorry, I, I j-j-just, I w-w-was, I s-s-s-shouldn't -"

"It's all right," Qui-gon said soothingly. "Take a look if you like. I'm sure you remember enough about lightsabers not to hurt yourself or me inadvertently."

Ben gesticulated with frustration as he struggled to communicate. "I j-j-just, t-t-the l-l-last one I h-h-handled was Q-Q-Qui's, and I w-w-wondered if it was the s-s-same."

Qui-gon remembered that Mace had talked about Ben's losing his voice, and that being a preliminary to a seizure. He patted the kneeling Ben's shoulder reassuringly. "It's all right. You can examine it all you want. I don't mind. Please, calm down."

Clenching his hands on his thighs in an unintentional parody of the meditative hand position, Ben took a deep breath, released it, and said clearly, "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first."

"I'd prefer that in the future, but it's a moot point now," said Qui-gon, unfastening his bedroll from his pack. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have left it here if I had any concern."

Ben watched uncertainly as Qui-gon made his bed, as if wondering whether offering to help would be another intrusion on Qui-gon's privacy or possessions. Lying down, taking pity on his nervous companion, Qui-gon said, "Please stay up if you like, but I'm going to sleep."

"Yes, I'll, I'll do the same," said Ben, and shut the room light off, leaving only a faint glow in one corner from some small device.

They lay listening to each other's breathing.

Qui-gon dreamed.

He was in a small room. On a pallet on the floor were two figures. One lay face down, turned away, sleeping, but he knew it was Ben. The other man was looking back at him. The face had the same exhausted, drawn expression that he saw in his own mirror after devastating missions, and the man's right hand was missing above the wrist.

"Why are you doing this to him? What do you want?" asked the other Qui-gon.

"I want to understand," Qui-gon said.

"Understand what?"

"Ben, Obi-wan, you, me. The similarities and the differences."

"Why?" said the dead Qui-gon.

"Can't insight and wisdom be goals in themselves?"

"Oh, please. You must have other motivations. Be honest."

"I admit that I don't know what all my motivations are, yet," said Qui-gon to his other.

"Start with the ones you do know."

"I have something important to learn from this, from Ben."

"Maybe many things. Your motivation is selfish, then?"

"Not entirely," he said. "There's Ben."

"What about him?"

"I don't know. I feel drawn to him, to develop some kind of relationship with him."

"Why?" his double repeated.

"I'm not sure. I assumed that if I followed the promptings of the Force, things would become clear to me. They haven't yet."

His doppelganger said grimly, "The question is, what are you prepared to want, to give, and to do? You've always had difficulty with relationships. Look how long it took you to move past Xanatos. I mean no blame. It took me longer than you."

"I know. Perhaps that's what I'm meant to learn. Initially I thought this was just so that I could put aside my recurring thoughts of the other timeline. But I've realized that I feel strongly towards Ben. He is Obi-wan, some variant of Obi-wan. In the past I rejected Obi-wan, multiple times. Even after taking him as my padawan, our initial relationship was strained due to my mishandling. Obi-wan's willingness to forgive and start with a clean heart seemed incredible to me, that he as a junior padawan could do what I struggled to do as a Master. He helped me more than I helped him. Obi-wan would have become a great Jedi whether or not I was his Master. But I would not have grown to the extent that I have, without him. Now this alternate Obi-wan is here, in my timeline, and I sense he needs help. I'm not sure what it is that he needs, but I have to try. It's not a matter of my rejecting him this time. He won't ask. I have to initiate, reach out to him."

"Ben may need things that you can't give, or don't want to give. What then?"

"We'll deal with that when it happens. But I may surprise you. I'm different from you now. Our paths diverged when I took Obi-wan as my padawan. You may not be able to predict me as well as you think."

"Indeed, I hope not," said the other Qui-gon. "Myself, I failed Ben, over and again, even at the end. I loved him more than I thought possible, but it was difficult to change certain things about myself, and we had so little time. He needs someone who understands who he is. If you can't or won't do it..." His double left the sentence unfinished.

Qui-gon said, "I'll help him any way that I can. I just wish that I understood him better."

"You understand him well enough. Trust your intuition. And remember that for those who follow the will of the Force, there are always rewards, even if they are unexpected."

When Qui-gon opened his eyes, he thought there was a fire in the room. Fluttering light was reflected against the walls.

The illumination came from Ben, who was lying on his bedroll, blanket thrown aside. A fluctuating reddish glow radiated through his transparent skin. Force energy filled the room, like a concentrated thunderstorm.

Qui-gon carefully eased closer to Ben. The man was asleep, or at least not in his conscious mind. His head tossed restlessly, and his right arm to the elbow was obscured by a dark writhing tangle of visible energy, like a nest of black snakes.

"Ben," Qui-gon said aloud. "Ben." His voice sounded muffled. Thickened air poured like a liquid in and out of his lungs.

The Force curled around Ben like a semi corporeal beast, ominous and protective. This wasn't of the Light, but neither was it of the Dark. This was something unthinking, amoral rather than immoral. It didn't frighten Qui-gon. He was accustomed to the feel of the Force, which, like the living things it permeated, was instinctual, and in its raw form could be either generative or destructive. This was an extremely strong emanation, but like a surging ocean, it wasn't necessarily dangerous unless one put oneself at the wrong orientation to it.

He reached out with his Force sense, surrendering to the currents instead of fighting against them. He projected welcome and reassurance as he reached past Ben's shields --

-- and fell into Ben's nightmare.

Images flashed, incoherent fragments, alternating between pitch black and stark artificial light. Qui-gon reminded himself that he was viewing this through Ben's fractured memories. He saw armed men, the other Qui-gon dazed and injured, Xanatos' amused expression. Confining cells. Instruments. Drops of blood on the floor, smears on a wall.

He heard a sound. Xanatos' voice, fading in and out.

"--thought you looked familiar. You're that brat from Bandomeer--"

"--don't have enough sense to stay gone. They didn't want you, they made that clear--"

"--sure he's just thrilled. How many times had he rejected you, and you keep following him around like a little lost pet--."

"--look better than that scrawny runt you used to be. Grown up, firmed up, filled out. Very nice--"

"--wanted to be his padawan more than you ever wanted anything in your life, didn't you? Too bad. But then maybe I can arrange for a consolation prize--"

"--always liked being the teacher. So teach. This boy needs training for his future profession. So get him ready, Qui-gon.  And don't take it easy on him, because I won't, nor will the people he'll end up with. Or if you'd rather not sully yourself with him, I'll give him to the guards to break in. They'll--"

"--so the old lone wolf decides that he likes boys after all? Congratulations, Obi-wan, I never managed it but you--"

"--destined for this, you know. That face, that body, that saunter, your appetites. Such sensual talent was lost on those withered Jedi ascetics, much less in the dirt of Agricorp--"

"--still not giving you the pounding he'd like to. He's worried that he'll hurt you. How chivalrous. You should remind him you were an initiate, you don't mind a hard workout--"

"--on Corellia. If you behave yourself, I'll sell you there when we're finished. They treat their staff quite well, all the luxuries, with a first-class clientele. We'll have to collar or implant you, of course, they don't have--"

"--coming along quite well, not the frozen virgin any more. But you ought to show more enthusiasm, as you do with Qui-gon. Every whore needs to learn that you don't let the customers know that you have favorites. So go ahead and pretend, Obi-wan, just close your eyes and pretend it's Qui-gon doing you, not me. Come on, it's not like your ass knows or cares. Think of Qui-gon, that's it, better, isn't it--"

The vocal snippets and visual flickers stopped, and one scene clicked into focus.

Three people outlined in harsh light. The other Qui-gon, on his knees, radiating pain and endurance. A younger Obi-wan, Ben, was standing over him, contending with Xanatos, who was pressing a lightsaber into Ben's grip. Qui-gon's lightsaber.

"No, no, I won't -- " Ben was shouting, defiant but near panic.

"Yes, you will," said Xanatos, laughing. "You know you will, because otherwise I'll do it, and I'll take more than just that one hand, including a part that you particularly favor. Come on, be honest. Don't you want to do it? After everything he's done to you? Rejecting you, saying you weren't worthy, you were too angry, too violent, and then he chose Bruck Chun. Of all people, Bruck Chun. Obi-wan, in your heart you know the truth. You mean nothing to him. He tries to protect you as he'd protect any fool, because of the Code. Even the sex, especially the sex, it means nothing, only more of that highminded Jedi pity, to keep me from putting the guards on you. And you, you're even worse than a random civilian, because you're a failed initiate. You had the talent and you wasted your chance. He'll never feel anything but contempt for you. Go ahead. Do it. Just be careful - you don't want to miss and hit something more -- vital. Wouldn't that be a pity."

"Do it, Obi-wan," said the other Qui-gon steadily. "Finish it. Finish me. It's all right. I choose this and hold you blameless. Go ahead, Obi-wan."

Obi-wan screamed incoherently and ripped his hand from Xanatos' grasp, igniting the saber and bringing it down in a killing arc, the green blade just skimming past Qui-gon's head, severing the kneeling man's outstretched arm above the wrist -- and continuing the motion, spinning violently around and swinging up ---

Xanatos blocked an instant too late and took the hit under the ribs, a clean upward slice across his torso and out the point of his opposite shoulder. The two halves of his body separated and fell to the floor.

Guards appeared, firing, bolts flying, ricocheting, and Obi-wan kept screaming--

Qui-gon jolted back to reality -- to the two of them lying on the floor in a small dim office. The unusual Force emanation was gone. The lighting in the room was ordinary ambient.

He leaned over Ben's prone body to check the right forearm. The unnatural black snakes were gone. Qui-gon reached down Ben's arm to the limp hand.

The Jedi startled when the hand closed over his. Had Ben awakened - no, he was still asleep, his mind wandering elsewhere. Ben moved against him, pressing their bodies together. Qui-gon looked down to find the other man raising his head, reaching for him, making contact mouth-to-mouth. Ben kissed him sweetly and so well, he touched the man's mind again to check that he wasn't awake and aware. He wasn't. Ben was kissing him in his dreams.

He pulled back slowly but the smaller man followed, pushing him back onto the blankets and rolling on top of him. Ben's mouth was insistent, with the confident assurance of a man kissing a longtime lover. Qui-gon wondered at what to do: to enjoy the kiss was theft, but to reject it seemed harsh, with Ben's aura radiating happiness, quite unlike his usual subdued presence.

He compromised by returning the kiss gently, accepting the other man's tongue into his mouth. He placed a hand on Ben's back and stroked the bare skin, staying above the hips that were moving against him rhythmically. He could feel Ben's erection pressing against his abdomen, grinding with the movement of the other man's pelvis. His own latent arousal surfaced for an instant, and he buried it again. He would not abuse the other man's innocent trust for the indulgence of his own inappropriate desire.

Ben made a soft noise and climaxed. Qui-gon could feel the dampness spreading in the cloth pressed between them. Ben broke the kiss and rested his cheek on the bigger man's shoulder, murmured, then quieted. 

Ben's previously impermeable shields were gone, revealing the outer layers of his mind and thought. Qui-gon observed from a discreet distance, not wanting to disturb the sleeping man with too aggressive an inspection. The mental layout was both familiarly Obi-wan and yet new and strange, as if a known landscape had different buildings constructed atop it. The underlying Initiate's training was there, but the ordered crystalline structures of a fully trained Jedi brain were missing. Instead these features were more organic in appearance, an ecosystem of interwoven roots, trunks and vines, a dense thicket that shielded the deeper layers of Ben's mind. Fortunately the growth seemed healthy; Qui-gon could perceive where the scars of old injuries had been overgrown by subsequent layers.

Only in one place was there a gap: the location of the pairbond. Qui-gon noted that the bond had not been properly severed at other Qui-gon's death - instead of the truncated stub of a planned amputation, this was a gaping crater, as if a tree had been uprooted and left a bleeding hole. No wonder Ben was so sensitive to the presence of other Force users. This inflammation would both yearn for and recoil from contact. Qui-gon puzzled that the Jedi healers had not addressed it; but perhaps it was just one more injury of Ben's that refused to mend. He made a mental note to inquire the next time he spoke with Mace.

He wondered what the effects of that traumatized pairbond would be on the other near-member of that bond, on himself. What would happen if one mate died precipitously, leaving the survivor's bond ripped open, and then that dead mate, or the double of that mate, appeared again in the world of the living? Would either person feel something, anything? Would they know what such a feeling actually signified?

He was sure that the Temple records didn't have many examples like this. The Healers deserved some latitude for their mishandling of Ben's situation. 

Ben shifted sideways, sliding to lie under Qui-gon's left arm, fitting his head in the hollow of the bigger man's shoulder. Qui-gon lay quiet, feigning sleep. He saw many possible futures leading forwards from this night. He didn't know which one was correct. But he did feel certain that his future and Ben's were entwined. Whatever happened, they needed to help each other find the way forward.

It occurred to him that he should resent such a connection being forced - Forced - upon him. A man he barely knew, foisted on him. Considered in the abstract, it annoyed him. Yet in reality, he couldn't muster any negative feeling against Ben. Ben with his longsuffering beautiful saint's face. Ben with his polite conversation and sudden flashes of temper, baring uncomfortable truths without prompting. Ben in his unconscious sexual passion, giving and taking freely.

Qui-gon pulled the blanket over them both and stroked Ben's hair until he joined him in sleep.

Ben snuggled into his bondmate and was rewarded with an arm tossed over him, pulling him nearer. This was always a favorite time, dozing in bed, lulled in blissful closeness. He could tell from Qui's aura that his mate felt well this morning, and he rejoiced in that. He radiated deep everlasting love towards that intimate presence -

Then he remembered. Qui was dead.

Ben jerked backwards, off the bedroll onto the cool floor, trying to remember what --

One glance told him it was Qui-gon. The other Qui-gon. Who had somehow migrated from his own bedroll into Ben's.

Qui-gon's eyes opened, clear blue.

Ben flushed down to his bones. What was the man doing here, with him? No Jedi would do something like that uninvited. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I don't remember, I don't know why you would be here. In my bedroll, I mean. With me."

"You triggered a Force emanation in your sleep," Qui-gon said in his matter-of-fact way. "A very strong one. Possibly very dangerous. I couldn't wake you, but being in proximity seemed to help."

"Ah," said Ben blankly. He remembered dreaming about the fall of the Temple, the Jedi murdered. And Xanatos. And Qui. Always Qui.

The man in his bed, who was Qui and not-Qui, kept looking at him. The sight of that big body enticed him to lie back down and--

Oh no. He needed to get up, get away. He fumbled off the floor and out of the room, into the communal fresher. As he relieved himself, he noticed the stain on his sleep pants. He could hardly have embarrassed himself more with Qui-gon if he had tried. Thank the Force that this was their last few hours together. Soon he would be on a transport to Malit, and Qui-gon would be on his way to his mission, or back to the Temple, or wherever he was going.

Ben was so flustered that it took a few minutes for him to notice that his stiff right hand was functioning almost normally. Don't get used to that, he told his hand sternly. Jinn's leaving. This Qui-gon would depart, and then his life, and his stutter and his hand and his dreams, could all get back to normal. What passed for normal, for him.

Qui-gon entered the fresher, and Ben ended his shower, escaped back to the bedroom/office and got dressed. 

In the communal area, he made tea and caf, while desperately trying to think of what he should say about last night.

No point in denying anything.

When Qui-gon joined him at the table, Ben said, "I want to apologize for what happened, when I was asleep. I wasn't myself."

"It's all right," said Qui-gon. "No harm done."

Enough said.

Ben packed his bag, a quick enough task, and Qui-gon did the same. They left the building just as the morning shift workers were arriving.

They took the train, saying very little along the way. 

Qui-gon regretted that Ben was so unsettled by the night's events but had no idea what to say to reassure the man. He doubted the man remembered any details. As for himself, he wasn't sure if he wanted to remember of not, or rather if it was appropriate for him to remember. That first quasi-coupling hadn't been the end of it. He had spent the rest of the night trying to ignore the Ben's sexual dreams. He hadn't wanted to shut the younger man out of their nascent mental connection, but he hadn't wanted to spy on those private sexual memories  -- fantasies? --  either. As it was, he had gotten enough images to have an idea of the range of activities that the two bondmates had indulged in, or that Ben had wished they indulged in -- a wide variety of sexual expression, including reciprocal intercourse, bondage, dominance and submission...it had been very disconcerting. He himself had never had such a fully developed sexual or intimate relationship. Nor had he ever been exposed to another being's sexual thoughts in such a direct way.

Qui-gon put the disturbing if enticing memories aside and followed Ben quietly to the port.

In the main passenger concourse, Ben turned to face him. "I'm afraid that I have to get to my transport immediately. I hope you don't have a long wait before your own departure. Goodbye, Master Jinn, and I hope our visit resolved whatever questions you had."

"Yes, things are clearer to me now," said Qui-gon. "For example, I think I should stay with you."

Ben stared at him, alarmed. "That's not a good idea."

"I think it is." Qui-gon was certain that it was a mistake to abruptly separate after last night's revelations.

Ben's cheeks flared with color. "No. I refuse. I'm sorry for being offensive. But it's time for us to part ways."

"I disagree."

"Why?" Ben snapped.

Qui-gon said, "We're supposed to be together. Can't you sense it? The Force made it clear enough last night."

"Force be damned," said Ben hotly. "And I don't know what you think last night was, but it wasn't a message from the Force. It was an accident, a byproduct of my own damaged mind, coming into contact with you. Don't you see? Our being in proximity triggers problems that will only get worse."

"They aren't problems for me," said Qui-gon. "Meaning that I choose not to define them as problems."

Ben shouted, "You aren't the one --" then stopped, and proceeded more quietly, "You aren't the one who triggered a Force anomaly last night, or who made a complete fool of himself when I, when--it hasn't been that bad for a long time. I don't want this. I want it to stop. We need to stay away from each other."

"You're wrong," said Qui-gon, with a certainty he couldn't explain. "What happened last night wasn't wrong, though it was a little unnerving. I regret that you were embarrassed. But it means something. We're supposed to move closer together, not further apart."

"What?"

"You heard me, and I think you know what I mean," said Qui-gon.

Ben whispered, "By all the Sith hells, have you gone completely insane?"

"Some people think I've been that way for years," said Qui-gon.

His levity was wasted on Ben. "This is ludicrous. How can you think this makes the remotest sense?"

"I don't think it, I feel it," said Qui-gon. "Although it does have a certain logic, when you consider it intellectually."

Ben said with repressed fury, "No. You are not him. You don't know me, and I don't know you. And I am not having this conversation in the middle of a damned spaceport."

"Where do you want to have this conversation?"

"Nowhere." Ben pulled away. "I have to get to my ship. Our association is over."

Ben stalked away. Qui-gon followed him at a short distance. Ben scowled at him over his shoulder but kept walking.

Ben was speaking to the captain when Qui-gon strode up. The captain registered surprise at the sudden appearance of a Jedi.

"Pardon me for interrupting," said Qui-gon politely, "but I'm in need of transport."

"Where to?" asked the captain.

"Wherever he's going," Qui-gon said, gesturing at Ben.

"Malit," the captain said helpfully.

"Absolutely not," said Ben.

The captain responded, "You bought a berth, not the whole ship. I've got no quarrel with the Jedi, and they pay. What's this about? I'm not going to have any trouble with either of you, am I?"

"No trouble at all," Qui-gon said smoothly.

"I'm not going," Ben interrupted.

The captain snorted. "Your choice. You haven't got long to make up your mind." He veered off.

Ben glanced despairingly at Qui-gon. "Don't do this to me."

"I regret that this is stressful for you. I wouldn't do this if I didn't think it was the right course of action."

"You're even more stubborn than he was." Qui-gon knew whom Ben meant by that "he."

"I find that hard to believe. But if it's true, perhaps it's just that I've had a few years more practice."

Ben said levelly, "If you're trying to help me, or become friends, or whatever, you have a damned domineering way of expressing it."

Qui-gon shrugged. "I'm notorious for following my own intuition. Look at it this way. If the Jedi Council has perennially failed to rein me in, what chance do you have? Come on. We can talk on board."

Ben wavered, undecided, glancing from the ship back towards the door to the port corridor.  At last he gave an "ah" of annoyance and stepped onto the ramp.  

A crewman pointed them to the guest quarters: a single room with fold-down bunks and an in-room fresher.

Ben hurled his pack in a corner, slammed a bunk down, sat down heavily on it and glared at Qui-gon. "You insisted on answers back on Naboo. Now I'm the one who wants answers. Tell me why you think it's important for us to stay together."

Qui-gon took the matching bunk across the room. "You know I can't always explain things logically. All I can say is that I sense meaning and direction in the Force. I trust that if I follow my instincts, things will come into alignment."

"Alignment!" Ben exploded, then reined himself in. He directed those laser eyes back to Qui-gon. "I understand something about how you think and act. But I also know that you can be wrong, and that because of your blind reliance on your instincts, it's almost impossible for anyone to convince you of your error until it's too late. So hear me: our association is a mistake. I am not whatever you think I am, a might-be friend, an almost-padawan, a lost would-be Jedi, someone to rescue, someone to fuck." Ben spat the last word. It was the first time Qui-gon had heard that coarse term from the refined mouth of either Obi-wan or Ben.

Ben continued, "You do not know me. We do not know each other. And the idea that we are fated to be friends or, Force forbid, more, is ludicrous."

"First off, I apologize," said Qui-gon. "I hadn't meant to imply that we should have a sexual relationship. As for friendship, I grant that we haven't known each other for very long, but that's no guarantee of compatibility. In some ways we know each other better than many others who form relationships."

"And many relationships end badly, even with people who have more promising histories than either of ours,' said Ben grimly. "You are forcing this issue, against my better judgment. You own me an explanation."

They sat in silence while Qui-gon pondered how to share his own clouded understanding. Outside their room, they heard the noises of the ship, hatches sealing, and felt the inner-ear sensation of flight, and then hyperspace.

Ben continued to look at him steadily, without comment. Qui-gon noted that this version of Obi-wan seemed to have developed rather more patience than his own padawan.

Finally Qui-gon said,  "My reasons for this come out of my own life, and from what I know of yours."

"Things from your life? Such as misdirected love for your Obi-wan? Or it is just lust?" Ben snapped.

"Wrong, completely wrong. I love Obi-wan, but I'm not in love with him. Nor he with me. The possibility is there. We know each other well and find each other attractive enough. But our lives are diverging. The role of knight is new and exciting for him, but to me it's become..." He hesitated.

"What?" Ben demanded irritably.

"I have trouble describing what I feel. Heartweary. Tired in body and soul. Posturing, diplomacy, deceit, greed, violence...all my life I loved being in the midst of it, grateful for the opportunity to do what good could be done. I poured myself out like water, and I'm running dry. It's been creeping up on me for years. Something was missing, or out of balance. But it took two things to bring home to me how far gone I was. The Sith, and Anakin. You saw what happened with the Sith warrior."

"I saw it twice," Ben said. "In my vision, where you died and they burned your corpse, and then in reality."

"Why do you think I fell to the Sith?" asked Qui-gon.

Ben frowned. "It's a Sith. Dangerous, powerful. And you're past your fighting prime. No offense meant. I've been past my own prime since before I was twenty, thanks to--.events."

"Age wasn't the cause of my failure," said Qui-gon. "I'm a Jedi Master. Age need not be an obstacle.  Look at Yoda. He's a match for any Sith."

"Then what was it?" asked Ben reluctantly. "I had assumed it was physical. Exhaustion combined with age."

"My connection to the Force failed me. The growing imbalance finally reached the point where the weakness buckled under pressure. As I said before, I had suspected for a long time that something was amiss, but it took the malevolence of the Sith to exploit it, bring it to the surface. He almost bested me on Tatooine. That's when I first understood the seriousness of my situation. But there was the mission to complete. I intended to speak to Yoda and obtain guidance, but then the conflict over Anakin happened, and I thought my personal concerns could wait. I almost paid for that folly with my life, and with Obi-wan's life. Thankfully his skill surpassed mine, at the pinch. And you with your rifle fire provided the few seconds of distraction that it took to save me."

Ben said hoarsely, "When you fell, I thought that it had killed you, just as I'd foreseen. I ran over, hoping against hope that you were alive. Like an idiot, I had forgotten the Sith. Thank the Force that Obi-wan was keeping it away from both of us, or I'd have gotten skewered as well. When I realized that you would probably survive, I left and placed a call for the medics."

And in so doing, you set in motion this whole chain of events, thought Qui-gon, but considered it best not to mention that to Ben. Instead he said, "Thus saving a much chastened Jedi Master. I'm more grateful to you than I can say. Less for my own sake than for Obi-wan's. It's a terrible thing to see your Master killed in front of you. I'm glad that he was spared that."

Ben was calmer, now that they were discussing some issue other than the possibility of a relationship between himself and Qui-gon. "So what about this Force imbalance of yours? If it only makes you susceptible to Sith, perhaps it's a manageable weakness. There are only supposed to be two of them, right? It's a big universe. You could just stay out of their way." Ben smiled awkwardly.

"I'm afraid there's more. I nearly did worse damage with Anakin, for instance."

"You keep saying that name. Who's Anakin?" asked Ben.

"The boy from Tatooine, the one who destroyed the control ship during the battle for Naboo."

"Yes, I heard about him," said Ben. "So what was the issue with him?"

"I tried to insist on taking him as my apprentice. I did it for two reasons. First, to strongarm the Council. He was too talented, and too dangerous, not to train. Second, I thought that perhaps he was the answer I was searching for. I knew that Obi-wan would soon be knighted, and when I encountered Anakin, I thought perhaps that the reason I had been unsettled, was to prepare me to find the Chosen One. But in reality, the last thing I needed or wanted was a new padawan. My reluctance to take Obi-wan had caused significant problems, and he was a trained initiate, better prepared than Anakin to deal with his emotions and our conflicts. I hadn't planned to apprentice Anakin, but it seemed that I was being led in that direction, so I assumed it was the will of the Force, and suppressed my hesitation. The Council saw through all of that, to their credit, when I was blind to it. I handled the whole thing poorly, offended Obi-wan, disappointed Anakin. My clouded motivations would have been disastrous for any padawan, particularly a child such as Anakin, as unprepared as he is. The boy will be a great challenge to train and needs his Master's full abilities, which I was incapable of giving. Would I have been able to overcome my issues, or conceal them from him...I don't know. But he deserved better. Thankfully he got it."

"You would have done well by him. You did well with Obi-wan."

Qui-gon smiled at Ben's unexpected defense of him - or was it of the other Qui-gon? "Fortunately we need not put that to the test."

Ben cycled back to the original topic. "The main point. What does this Force weakness have to do with your interest in me? Whatever the cause and cure of your problems with the Force, I can't help you. As you saw last night, I can't even help myself sometimes. It seems that a visit to the Healers would be more useful for you."

"This isn't an ailment that the Healers can treat. They can advise, but they can't cure. Only I can find resolve this. You have some knowledge of those types of injuries, I believe," and Qui-gon raised an eyebrow at Ben. "I suspected that I had to find my own solution, and Yoda and the Healers agreed. So I asked to be removed from the active duty roster and spent my time in meditation. And over time, all my inclinations led to you."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Qui-gon admitted. "With my connection to the Living Force, it's the surrounding reality that speaks to me, not possible outcomes. I'm not like you, with the Unifying Force running rampant through your dreams, showing you future and past. And perhaps that's one reason we're meant to come together. Individually our Force talents are imbalanced, and we both have lingering injuries, but together we might recover. Perhaps we only need to be in proximity for a period of time, in order to learn from each other's strengths, help to heal each other's weaknesses. But I'm just guessing. I really don't know."

"So we're fated to this, according to your speculations? Mutual sexual therapy?" Ben was contemptuous.

"I'm not talking about sex. Having sex doesn't guarantee any true communion of souls, you know that."  Qui-gon tried one more time. "Let me summarize. I'm at a turning point in my life. I can't go back to field work, not like this. But I'm not dead yet, and I'm not meant to be a contemplative or a Temple bureaucrat. I'm searching for a new life where I can continue to serve the Light in a way that rejuvenates rather than debilitates me. And I think you are at a similar place. You're tired of the way you've been living. It's not satisfying for you. You have a new calling as well. And I suspect that our callings are interdependent."

Ben dropped his face into his hands. "I can't--I don't like this. It's like I'm falling and can't stop. My life may be unsatisfying in some ways, but it's familiar to me. This is how I've lived for years. Now you're saying I have to go in a different direction, and I don't want to, or understand what that means, or even if I should trust your judgment in the first place."

Qui-gon began to speak, but Ben cut him off.  "I don't want to talk anymore. Please, just, let's leave it for now."

Ben sat on his bunk, turning his situation over in his head. Qui-gon insisted on following him, for some damned, ineffable, supposedly Force-motivated reason. It was insane. But he had no hope of escaping a determined Jedi Master. He had to wait it out, until Qui-gon realized his error, changed his mind, or - more likely - was recalled by the Council. That might take days, even tens. He had to be prepared to tolerate the man's presence until then.

Meanwhile he had to keep it all under control: the Force emanations spawned by his twisted mind, his pathetic neediness and desire for joining and comfort. He couldn't risk another episode like what had happened last night. Fortunately he had the means to prevent it. Digging into his pack, Ben found the small container that held his drugs. He dry-swallowed several capsules. Qui-gon watched guardedly but made no comment.

"I'll be uncommunicative for the next while," Ben said.

"What did you take?"

"Chemical sledgehammer. Painkiller, antipsychotic, and a depressant. Together they change my brain function so that I can't access the Force. Side effect is that I can't do much else either. It wears off after some hours."

"Why do you need it?"

"Why?" Ben said irritably. "Because your being here is making my Force sense yammer in my skull. And I don't want a repeat of last night."

"What did you experience last night?"

Ben flushed. "We talked about that already. I tapped into some strange Force energy, you tried to help me, and I had a totally inappropriate sexual response. I don't know why we need to discuss it further."

"I meant what you experienced in your mind when you were asleep, or in whatever state of consciousness you were in. I picked up a fragment, but not the whole."

Ben stared at the floor. "It all came back, like it used to, right after I crossed timelines. I used to take the meds frequently. They were the only way I could turn it off. It hasn't been that bad for a long time. Your presence must have accidentally set it off."

Qui-gon patiently repeated, "Ben, specifically, what did you see?"

"All of it! Coruscant, the Temple besieged, then us being captured and everything that happened on that ship, my attacking Qui and killing Xanatos-- " He stopped to collect himself, realizing that he had just spoken Xanatos' name, as he hadn't been able to for over ten years, and then decided he didn't care. He wiped his nose on his sleeve like a child.

"I shared in some of that," said Qui-gon. "I heard Xanatos speaking, threatening you both, and I saw your saber strike."

"I still hear him inside my head sometimes, saying--things. His deathblow was what crippled my right hand. Either Xanatos got in one mysterious strike just as I killed him, or my unconscious was so horrified at what I did to Qui--either way, when Qui lost his hand, I lost mine too."

Qui-gon asked, "What about therapy? A prosthetic?"

"No luck with anything. Prosthetic would only work if my mind and nerves would recognize it, and they're the source of the problem."

"It seems better today than yesterday," noted Qui-gon. 

"My hand is mistaken," said Ben, slapping his right hand hard into his left. "It thinks you're someone you're not. Other parts of me are equally as misguided, as you noticed last night when I, ah--I didn't dream of Qui dying last night, which was probably why I didn't do any damage."

"Damage like what?"

"When I used to dream like that, it usually ended with some Force-induced mess. I'd wake up and the room would be on fire. Or I'd have bruises that I didn't have when I went to sleep. Items, furniture, whatever, would be broken, or melted, or missing. Missing scared me the most. Where had they gone? I'm out of my own time here -- what if I somehow opened up a portal, ruptured space-time somehow, and sent them to the other timeline? I was desperate, so I tried the drugs. I took them regularly for a couple of years, until the dreams went away. Mostly went away."

 "It's unfortunate that you think the meds are necessary," Qui-gon said. "You could try to do without them. I'm here and could help if something happens."

"Thanks, but no. This worked before, so I'll just keep with it for now."  He could feel the substances leaching into his brain, muddying his senses.

Ben lay back on the bunk and let the drugs overwhelm him. 

Qui-gon was deeply disturbed, both at Ben's anxiety and his recitation of events. He didn't think this information had been in Ben's records. Certainly Mace hadn't mentioned it; Mace had made it sound like Ben's Force access was rare, but it appears to have been active for years. Unfortunately there was no way he could help with this, unless Ben let him.

He wondered if he was doing the right thing. Perhaps Ben was correct, and Qui-gon should leave him alone. After they reached Malit, he could let Ben go on by himself, and return to the Temple. Perhaps he was pushing the man beyond what was endurable for him.

Hours passed, or it might have been days. Years. Ben thought perhaps only hours. He wasn't sure.

He had forgotten how strong the meds were. His Force sense was completely squelched; he couldn't even detect the Jedi across the room. His emotions and intellect were impaired as well. His recent upset at Qui-gon was gone, evaporated. Some part of him wanted to resent his drug-induced passivity, but he couldn't muster his thoughts in that direction.

More hours passed.

He thought Qui-gon left the room, then came back. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. 

Much later, he felt the gropings of his own mind coming back to life, like a stunned animal staggering to its feet. Force sensations increased until he could again perceive Qui-gon, reading quietly in his own bunk.

Ben lurched out of bed. He used the small fresher and studied himself in the mirror. The eyes looking back at him were flat and apathetic.

What was he doing to himself?

So afraid that he chose to hide in a med stupor. Xanatos would be pleased to know that his former victim would voluntarily recreate a prison for himself.

For a moment, he imagined that he saw Qui's serious face in the mirror, over his own shoulder. It reminded him that he had wanted to be a Jedi once, back when he thought he knew what honor and sacrifice were.

"No," he said to his solitary reflection. "No more. Qui-gon was right. I'll risk the emanations. No more hiding. Deal with it. And he was right about something else too - as a Master, he should be immune. Even if he can't help me, he should be able to keep it from hurting him or anyone else around me." 

Back in the room, his pack was open. The med bottle was visible on top. He picked it up and threw it into the trash chute.

Qui-gon said nothing, but Ben sensed a flicker of satisfaction from the man. He flinched to realize that he could detect the other man's thoughts.

Later they proceeded to the galley for their meal allotment. Ben had no appetite but forced himself to eat. Several crew drifted in and out.  One man stopped abruptly near Ben and said, "Ho."

Ben gave him a questioning look. "Hello?"

"You don't remember me, do you." The man seemed friendly, not annoyed.

 Ben's memory clicked. "Actually, yes, it was the bar on, on -"

"On Tatooine. That's right. Want to get together, talk about old times?"

"No offense, but I'd rather not," said Ben.

The man's eyes flicked to Qui-gon, then back to Ben. Making his exit, he said, "No problem. If you change your mind, let me know, I bunk in the third portside cabin."

Qui-gon said neutrally, "Don't let me keep you from visiting with a prior acquaintance."

Ben had promised himself: no more evasions. Qui-gon had said he wanted to know how Ben really lived, who he really was. So: a moment of truth. Perhaps the Jedi would be offended, and it would motivate Qui-gon to give up this idea of a connection between them.

Ben said, "He's not exactly what I would call an acquaintance. We had a sexual encounter once."

Qui-gon watched him, revealing nothing.

Feeling the weight of the silence, Ben continued, "It's not something I do very often. Maybe once or twice a year."

"Why?" asked Qui-gon.

Ben shrugged. "Why does anyone have sex with a stranger?"

Qui-gon shrugged in response. "There are as many reasons as there are people. Loneliness, primarily. Lack of a fulfilling relationship with a committed partner."

"Yes, well." Ben shifted in his seat.

Qui-gon persisted. "If you felt the need, why didn't you take a more permanent lover? You must have had opportunities. You seem to find friends quickly, when you make the effort. Couldn't one of those friends have become more?"

"No," Ben said. "It's not that easy. My history, my disabilities...I come with a unique set of baggage. I can't imagine keeping all that secret within a relationship...but I can't think of anyone who could deal with all that."

"There are Force users among Agricorps, or the Jedi," Qui-gon suggested.

Ben shook his head. "I've always avoided Force users. I made a commitment to the Council to keep my background secret, and with my uneven control of the Force, I was always afraid I'd let something slip. I avoided Jedi especially. My resemblance to Obi-wan is too strong, anyone who knew him would be immediately curious upon seeing me. It was too great a risk."

"So in your opinion, your promise to the Council required you to stay away from the only people who could form deeper relationships with you." 

"I didn't think of it that way in the first few years," said Ben.  "I was only too glad to stay away. I was unstable. Work, eat, meds, sleep. Repeat daily. For a long time I didn't even talk with people, much less think about friendships. Then when I did, I began to realize the challenges. Don't tell people too much. Don't reveal anything significant. Keep on neutral topics, at a shallow level."

"What about now?" asked Qui-gon. "The Council seems to think that the worst risk is past. There are no formal restrictions on what you can and cannot do, who you can and cannot meet."

"True. I've thought about joining Agricorps officially. They've made me an offer. I'd probably be able to qualify as an independent field agent, which was my original ambition, with them. Work on short-term, high-impact projects, similar to what I did on Tatooine, and on Gdelia. The role has some similarities to being a Jedi Knight, in a very broad way. I'd get to work with some of the people who were my friends in Agricorps back in the other timeline. I'm new to them here, of course, but I'd have a chance at building those friendships again."

 Qui-gon said,  "You should visit the Temple, too."

"That doesn't follow." Ben put his drink down on the table with a thump.

"You had friends at the Temple, just as you did in Agricorps. After their initial shock, they'd welcome you. And you should meet Obi-wan. He has a right to know that you exist, and you have a right to know him as well."

"The Council was against that."

"Initially, yes, and I can see their reasons. At the time of your appearance, Obi-wan was still a padawan and struggling with his own issues. But Obi-wan is a Knight now. He has a right to this information. And you have a right to come back to the Temple, as a visitor if not as a permanent resident."

Ben shook his head. "Live at the Temple? And do what, be a gardener? I think not. They're so proud of those decorative gardens and I think they're depressing. Tame little ecosystems trapped under plasteel canopies. No thank you."

"So come visit and scold the Council for our deplorable flora," Qui-gon teased.

Ben smiled, deprecating.

Better, thought Qui-gon. Better. At least they had gotten beyond their awkwardness, and Ben's irritation at him. If they could work through that so quickly, and talk so frankly, then perhaps they had a chance. For friendship, or more.

Ben woke in mid-sleep cycle, with Qui-gon snoring softly across the room. He was anxious, jumpy, the worst since the other man's arrival. His skin felt hypersensitive, and his groin throbbed. Damn the Jedi for his unthinking, oblivious, arousing presence. This Qui-gon had never been pairbonded to anyone. He would have no idea of the urges that a lost bond would generate when stimulated.

Ben could never get emotional relief from that nagging ache. But he could get physical relief. Masturbation didn't seem feasible, not with the other man right there. The convenience of having a fresher in the room was offset by the lack of privacy in using it.

He remembered the crewman. The man had taken him against a wall behind a grimy saloon. Ben didn't remember much of the encounter, but the man had obviously found it satisfactory, and was willing to repeat it.

He touched Qui-gon's mind lightly to ensure that his companion was really asleep, and then quietly rose, dressed, and slipped out into the corridor, to the third portside cabin. 

At the sight of Ben, the crewman grinned and dragged him into the room, pulling at his clothes eagerly.

In other circumstances, Ben might have enjoyed it, but this time he couldn't get caught up in the act. He felt disassociated. The man probed him urgently with fingers, and it was uncomfortable, not erotic. The thrust of the cock was an unwelcome assault. Ben gritted his teeth in pain and frustration. What was wrong? Were even the pleasures of anonymous sex denied him now, with his flesh pining for the wrong Qui-gon?

With a groan, the man finished, coming inside him. At least now he could leave, take his unresponsive body back to his own bed.

He rolled out from under the man and began reassembling his clothes. "Hey wait," protested his partner. "We're not done yet." 

Ben said, "It's all right, thanks anyway," and left, hearing the man swear as the door sealed between them. Ah well. Life was full of disappointments for everyone.

He crept back into the darkened quarters he shared with Qui-gon.

A light snapped on. Qui-gon was awake, regarding him.  Ben froze guiltily.

"Did it help?" Qui-gon asked.

Sithspawn. He knew. Qui-gon knew where he had been, what he had done. "No," he said. "It didn't."

"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

"No, I--why do you ask that?" Ben said, a suspicion forming.

Qui-gon hesitated, then said, "I sensed it."

Ben cringed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought I could shield adequately."

"Your shielding would be sufficient, with most people. It's my doing, I've been paying over-much attention to your Force presence, trying to learn your thoughts, your moods. Just now, I didn't get the full experience, only that you were uncomfortable and unhappy. The fact that you were joined to the other Qui-gon --your mind, the torn bond, it--calls to me."

"I didn't know, " said Ben. "I knew it was disturbing me, but I had no idea that you were effected too. A fine way to find out about it, for both of us. Again, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done this if I'd known."  He felt obscenely filthy, smeared with another man's sweat and come. "Excuse me, I need to clean up."

He scrubbed at his skin until it was raw. Afterwards he couldn't bring himself to put the same clothes back on. He tossed them into the corner and crawled into his bunk naked.

In the dark room, misery rose from other bed like a stench. Ben was trying to shield behind adamantine walls, but he was no match for an eavesdropping Jedi Master. Emotion seeped out from Ben's cloaked mind, pungent in its intensity.

Qui-gon waited, giving Ben privacy to conquer his emotions, but when there was no lessening of the invisible turmoil, he decided to speak.

"Ben, what is it?" he asked into the space between their bunks.

Ben had been facing the opposite wall, but at the question he turned towards the ceiling, showing his profile. "I'm s-s-sorry, am I s-s-still p-p-projecting? I'm t-t-trying n-n-not t-t-to."

The stutter was back again, as before when Ben was greatly stressed. Qui-gon said, "No, you're not projecting, just leaking a bit round the edges. You seem very unhappy."

Ben panted deep breaths, pressed one hand to his forehead, trying to control his voice, or his emotions, or both. "Unhappy? I'm d-d-disgusted. Ashamed."

"Because of what you did? Or because I witnessed it?"

"B-both," replied Ben. "I'm n-not responding to your p-presence very well, but I initially had a m-modest hope of m-making a good impression." He laughed sharply, without humor. "I'm so weak, I'm--ha, when I think..."

"What?" asked Qui-gon.

"When I think that I thought I could be a Jedi, I--it's laughable. I had forgotten what it was really like, then seeing you--well. It's safe to say I haven't quite lived up to the Temple standards," Ben whispered, barely audible, but his bitterness was caustic.

Qui-gon thought of how that early disappointment had come to overlay all of Ben's later life. A pity that a failure at the age of twelve, an event shaped as much by chance as by anyone's intent, should dictate the self-perceptions of a grown man. "I disagree," said Qui-gon. "I don't believe you're weak. You've suffered great pain for a long time, and you're struggling with it as best you can. I do think well of you, Ben. I truly regret that my presence is troubling you. Will you let me help?"

The blue fog of anguished Force aura around Ben was pierced by a red glare of apprehension. "Help how?"

"Help you calm down and get to sleep. Nothing more." Suspecting the younger man wouldn't protest if he took the initiative, Qui-gon rose and went to kneel on the floor next to Ben's bunk. "Here, stay on your back as you are, now turn your forearms out, palms up, chin down a bit. You remember the standard prone relaxed meditation asana from your initiate days." Qui-gon placed his hand over the other man's nearer forearm and felt him twitch, but Ben needed the animal reassurance of physical contact right now.  "Do something simple, like the hot-cold breathing exercise.  Seven in, hold, seven out. Exhale heat, inhale cool. Emotion out, calm in. Visualize. Let go. Release all effort, all emotion." 

Ben followed his instructions, timing his breathing, seven count in, one count hold, seven count out. The distress began to seep from him, muscles and mind easing. Qui-gon matched his own Force presence to his physical posture: comforting without being intrusive. Despite his restraint, it was likely that this care would enhance the mild, temporary bond that already existed between the two of them. That often happened between healers and patients. He reassured himself by thinking that Ben was unlikely to notice it.

Qui-gon saw something glisten on Ben's face. Tears running down the temples, disappearing into the hairline. Fortunately the younger man was too far towards sleep to be aware that he was crying. Behind his own flawless shields, Qui-gon allowed part of his concern for Ben to turn into annoyance. This man should not have been left to face his demons alone, regardless of what Ben or the Council believed was advisable at the time. Another answer should have been found.

CONTINUED IN PART 3