Blindsided

by Nicole D'Annais (ndannais@squidge.org)

Author's Page: https://www.squidge.org/~ndannais

Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Category: Drama, Angst, POV

Summary: Obi-Wan's nightmares are causing problems with his new relationship with Qui-Gon, but who is really responsible?

Notes: There isn't enough space in the world for all the notes this deserves, especially to thank the wonderful people who helped me get through writing it. It took 19 months on and off, caused me to stop writing for 4 months total, and was basically just a bitch to write, much less finish. But here it is. Comments greatly appreciated.

Warnings: See below if you're really worried--it might spoil some of the story for you.

Involves rape.

Hands. Big, strong hands. Pain and pleasure all mixed up and swirling around them with no way to tell where one began and the other ended. And the sounds...harsh grunts, muttered words that made no sense, and one raspy voice of indeterminable origin whispering the same word over and over.

"No."

"Obi-Wan!"

The urgency in my master's voice forced me awake. I blinked up at him as I fought to shake the effects of the dream. "What--oh...sorry, Master." My hands shook as I rubbed my eyes, still trying to pull myself back into reality. "I was dreaming."

"I know; I saw. What was it?"

I frowned. "I'm not sure." That was true enough. Nothing had been clear. "Images, feelings, sound...but nothing concrete. I know I don't like it." There was a pounding in my temples that I didn't much like either. "And it gave me quite a headache."

He wrapped me in his arms, locking the demons out for now. "It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep," he said as his hand caressed my scalp soothingly.

I wasn't in the mood to be soothed. I was, however, in the mood to be distracted. And I knew exactly what would distract me. "But I'm already awake, Qui-Gon. It would be a shame to just fall asleep again without accomplishing something."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I thought you might help me take my mind off my headache."

One corner of his mouth quirked up as he raised up on one arm. A gentle kiss was placed on my forehead. "There. Better?"

"Not quite what I meant," I whispered, reaching around with my hand to pull on his neck. My tongue traced his parted lips before darting inside, only to be caught. He held it tightly with his lips for a moment, nipping at it with his teeth, then running his own tongue over it before releasing it to capture my whole mouth. Suddenly, I rolled over, pinning him beneath me.

"I thought I was supposed to be comforting you."

"You're supposed to be taking my mind off the headache," I said, kissing my way down his cheek. My nose nudged his hair away, uncovering one ear. I traced the line of it from one end to the other. "I am suitably distracted," I whispered, revelling in the feel of my heated breath bouncing off his skin.

Before he could respond, I bit his earlobe. Whatever he was going to say was lost in a gasp that brought a smile to my face. I love that I can do this to him. The first time I brought out that reaction in him, I thought I would get used to the thrill it sent through me. Now I'm convinced I never will.

He tilted his head back further, sighing contentedly as I accepted the invitation, biting my way down his neck, teeth lightly grazing the skin inch by torturous inch.

I reached his stomach, circling his navel lazily with my tongue, in no hurry to get around to anything more intense. He, however, was apparently anxious. He pushed at my head, urging me lower. A moment later I ran my tongue over the tip of his erection, and was rewarded with a stronger gasp, and the tightening of his grip on my hair.

Strangely enough, the tight grip helped the last of the headache recede. I circled the top of his erection slowly, the action enflaming us both. My cheek ran down the length of it as I moved to run my tongue from the base to the very end. His grip grew tighter as I repeated the action on the other side before taking him fully in my mouth.

The hands holding my head loosened, then tightened again as I applied suction to my actions. In response, he dragged me back up beside him, our lips meeting in a feverish kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth as my hand moved lower to slip a finger inside him.

I smiled as I trailed kisses down his body, stopping to lavish attention on any spot I felt needed it. He arched toward me eagerly with every thrust of my finger, so I pulled them out and brought my hand up to my mouth, making a production out of wetting two fingers.

"Tease," he said, his voice raspy.

I shook my head and ran the fingers down his side before thrusting them back inside his body. Soon I added a third finger, stretching him even as I took his erection back into my mouth, swallowing him whole before releasing him again. His pleasure flowed over me, combined with his shallow breathing, a shallowness that neared a pant as he rocked back and forth, caught between the torture of my mouth and the promise of my fingers.

Half-open eyes burned into me as I let him go and moved between his legs, my own cock throbbing with need, but I was careful not to hurt him as I slid slowly inside. His eyes closed as his head tilted back, and I felt the urge to smile at war with the intense feelings inside me. His hands sought mine, found them clutching his own hips, and covered them, moving restlessly over their backs and as far up my arms as he could reach, the friction from their calloused surface causing me to shiver.

We rocked together for endless minutes, moving more like one being than two. Finally, my hand crept along his stomach toward his erection. Once there, I stroked him tightly, matching the rhythm of my thrusts, and making up for lack of control and finesse with sheer strength.

As we moved faster, my eyes locked with his. I wanted to see his pleasure. I always did. It was as important as the act itself. The look on his face was enough to send me over the edge, lightning shards of white-hot pleasure shooting through me. I felt his release moments later.

Much later, as we lay entwined in a pile of weak limbs and skin, he placed a kiss on the side of my head. "That was a unique cure for a headache."

"But it worked," I said around a yawn.

"You'll be able to sleep now?" I nodded against his chest. In response, he kissed me again and pulled me closer before drifting off to sleep.

"Good. Again." I could feel his eyes on me, watching me closely as I worked through the various movements of the kata. No mistakes were allowed, especially not now. We would be monitored closely, had been monitored closely, now that the Council knew we were together in every sense of the word. The extra scrutiny heightened my need to be a better student than ever before. But it was worth it. I would sooner give up being Jedi than give up what we have.

The kata went smoothly, completed without missing a beat. "Excellent," my Master said. A small word, but the amount of praise in the tone was obvious to me, if no one else. "I think that's enough for today."

"Good," I said with a smile as I sat down, leaning against the wall. "I'm not sure I could have done another."

"You could have, if it were necessary."

I shrugged, resting my arms on my knees as I dropped my chin to my chest. My neck was tight from the exercise, so I rolled my head around, working out the kinks. As the offending muscles began to loosen, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief.

As he knelt down next to me, I could sense him reaching for my shoulder. At the touch of his hand, everything went dark, and a deep pain shot through me.

"Obi-Wan?" Several seconds later, I stared down at my master, lying on his back on the floor, a shocked expression on his face.

"Master, I'm sorry. I don't know what...." I hung my head between my knees again, shielding my face. I had an idea what had caused the problem, but I didn't understand why I'd lashed out. Especially at him. My hand still stung from the force of hitting him, and from the way he was rubbing his arm, I imagined he'd remember it easily for days.

"Obi-Wan?" he repeated, softer this time. "What is it?"

After a moment, I glanced at him. "It was the dream. At least, I think it was. I was fine, until you touched my shoulder, and...I was somewhere else. Everything was dark, and all I knew was that I had to strike out."

"Do you remember anything about this dream?"

"A few emotions, maybe. Pain. Anger. But nothing clear. Nothing I can use to find its source." I rubbed my temples. "It does seem to give me quite a headache, though."

"Perhaps it will go away on its own." Cautiously, he sat up, then joined me against the wall and laid his hand on my shoulder again. When his hand was not rejected, he put his arm around me. "If it happens again, then we'll deal with it."

Force willing, it would just go away and we wouldn't have to.

The dreams didn't go away. I had them three nights in a row after the incident in the training room; each night was progressively worse. If it had been my decision to make, I wouldn't have woken Qui-Gon. I wouldn't have even told him.

But it seemed the bond between us was at times as much a curse as it was a blessing. He knew before I even awoke. He'd received some of the images and emotions in the dreams through the bond, yet neither of us could make sense out of any of it.

So we distracted ourselves. And survived on very little sleep. But I knew he wouldn't let it go on much longer before he forced me to take a more active role in discovering what was behind the nightmares.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know. The pain in them was blinding, and the despair I could feel surrounding me was fairly choking me until I woke. Whatever it was, it was something I wanted no part of. It was like an emotional black hole that sucked me in no matter what I did to avoid it. If that was the way it felt when it was still vague, I really didn't want to feel the full force of the cause.

And then there was Qui-Gon, being subjected to the dreams second-hand, having to watch me go through them, and deal with the aftermath. To make him go through this when it was my problem seemed unfair. I would have preferred to spare him. To spare both of us. My choice would be to let all of this go.

Somehow, I didn't think I had a choice.

"When did you know?"

He looked up from his datapad in confusion. "Know what?"

"About me," I replied. "About us."

He gave me an indulgent smile. "You've heard this story before."

"Yes. But I want to hear it again." I wanted to think about something good, something that didn't remind me of those dreams.

"Very well." He put the pad down and joined me on the sofa, which was partly what I was hoping for when I asked. "It was your eighteenth birthday. You came back from celebrating with your friends, and when you walked in...I just knew."

I smiled and shook my head. "I still don't understand how you just knew then. Why not the day before? Or two days later?" I had never understood that part of the story. What was so special about that day?

He shrugged. "Because at that moment I was ready to know. Perhaps your birthday forced me to see the man instead of the boy."

"If that's true, then why did it take you so long to act?"

"It would have been wrong." I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. "We can debate this for the rest of our lives, but it will not change the past. I am still your Master. It was my place to decide if the timing was right."

"I seem to recall taking the decision out of your hands."

"I recall no such thing."

I raised an eyebrow at him, doing what I considered to be a credible impression of genuine curiosity. "Oh? And I suppose being presented with a naked Padawan, fresh from his twenty-first birthday celebration, had nothing to do with your decision?"

"I simply chose to allow you to seduce me that time," he said loftily. It wasn't quite the truth, and we both knew it. The moment I'd crawled into his bed, naked, waking him with kisses, he'd been lost.

I was grinning openly now. "So you could have resisted?"

"Had I chosen to, yes."

"Oh, well in that case," I said, leaning closer to him, "let's see how well you can resist now."

My tongue snaked its way up the side of his neck to his ear before he could respond. "I could resist," he answered, pulling my head up higher until our lips were inches apart. "But I'd rather do this."

He kissed me thoroughly. The only sounds in the room for several minutes were our increasingly rapid breathing and the rustle of clothing as we slipped out of robes and tunics, never breaking the kiss. I have always known there are many advantages to being Jedi, but only recently have I discovered that breath control is one of them.

Finally our mouths separated, with him in the more advantageous position. He bent his head to my neck, sucking at various spots he knew by now would pull the greatest reaction from me. "So you choose not to resist?" I joked in between gasps.

He stopped for a moment, pulling back enough to meet my eyes. "Why would I even want to try?" he said seriously.

For a moment I froze, caught by the intensity of his eyes. The depth of emotion there was almost frightening. Then he pulled me forward into a kiss far shorter than the one before, but far more passionate as well. Teasing was put aside, along with the rest of our clothing, as we lost ourselves to the passion between us.

Darkness. Pain. Fear. Those hands. And laughter. I was shaking, and someone was calling my name, and there was nothing I could do.

"Obi-Wan?"

My eyes opened, searching the room in the faint, pre-dawn light. Not the best lighting to find something, especially if you don't know what you're looking for. "Master?" I managed, as my I tried to bring my ragged breathing under control.

Qui-Gon shook his head and climbed onto the sofa from the floor; I didn't ask how he ended up down there. He pulled me to him, closing his arms around me. I knew he was trying to project an air of calm, but I could see he was too concerned to let this go. There would be no more putting off dealing with the dream for another day.

"Qui-Gon?" I whispered after a moment. He pulled back, studying me intently. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Obi-Wan? It was a nightmare. Such things are often frightening."

"Yes, but...." I didn't know what to say next. I wasn't sure exactly what I was apologizing for.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "There is nothing to be sorry about. It was a dream, nothing more. Can you remember anything in particular about it?"

"No...nothing more than before. Pain, but also pleasure. And anger and darkness. And the knowledge that whatever I was doing, it wasn't something I wanted."

"So it was something you were involved in?"

"Yes. At least, I think so. It's so muddled. I could feel other emotions that weren't my own. But I'm almost certain the pleasure was not mine."

"And the anger?"

I suddenly became very interested in my fingernails. "That, I believe, was me."

"Obi-Wan, look at me." I looked up reluctantly. "It was a dream," he repeated. "You don't have to be ashamed of anger in a dream. We'll sort all this out and deal with whatever is causing it, I promise."

"Yes, Master," I responded in a dutiful tone.

"Now go back to sleep."

"But it's almost time to get up."

"You need a little more rest after that dream. Go to sleep." This time, he put the Force behind the suggestion. I barely had time to be annoyed about it before I fell asleep.

Qui-Gon had been mostly silent all day. Not that he was generally the talkative sort, but this was unusually quiet, even for him. I assumed he was thinking about my dreams. Trying to solve them like a puzzle in his usual logical manner. I didn't think he'd get very far with logic on this one; there was no rhyme or reason to the pieces of the puzzle.

The clues were disjointed, vague and completely unhelpful. I had spent hours going over them again and again, trying to figure out what they meant with no success. If I couldn't figure it out when the answer was inside of me, I didn't think even my master had a chance.

I awoke from the Force-induced sleep relatively late in the morning. Qui-Gon had already eaten and was on the sofa reading when I walked into the main room. He put down the datapad when he saw me. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine." I shrugged the question off as I headed for the kitchen and food.

I should have known that wouldn't stop him. Before I could even fix breakfast, he was in the kitchen, studying me. Or, more accurately, staring at me. "No more headache?" he asked finally.

"No. And stop staring a hole into me. I'm fine."

"What was the headache like?"

I turned and fixed him with a level look. "I said I'm fine," I repeated then moved to the table.

"That doesn't answer my question."

He sat down across from me. I could feel him still staring as I ate, and it quickly began to annoy me. Handling these dreams was more than enough for me to deal with; I didn't need him accusing me of lying. But the more irritated I became, the harder he stared. Finally, I gave up the pretence of ignoring him. "The headache is a pain. In my head."

"Where?"

He would not give up. "I don't know," I said with a sigh. "In my head."

"Obi-Wan, if we're going to solve this, you're going to have to be more cooperative."

I started to eat faster. Perhaps if we got out of there he'd drop the subject. "Solve what? The source of my headache? I think it's pretty clear it's the dreams."

"But what causes the dreams? If you could just describe the headaches--"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You have no choice."

I finished off my food--making this the fastest meal I'd ever consumed. "Yes, I do. You can't make me talk. Not as my Master, and not as anything else."

Something flickered in his eyes; it took me a second to actually realize what I'd seen. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

"No." I shook my head to emphasize how sure I was of his answer. "Don't threaten it, because I know you would never invade my privacy enough to read my thoughts. Any thoughts I wish to keep to myself will remain there."

"You're that sure?"

I nodded as I rose. "Are we training this morning or not?"

"Yes. Ten minutes," he commanded as he headed off to his room. After a moment, I turned and went to mine.

I grumbled the entire time I was dressing. I had clothes in his room if I had wished to go there to change, but I needed a few minutes alone. I knew he was trying to help. He was worried about me; in his situation I would probably be the same way. But then I didn't have the authority over him that he had over me, or the resources to delve into his mind, not if he wanted to keep me out. My shields would likely be no match for his ability.

For the first time I questioned the wisdom of entering into this relationship while I was still his student. He held most of the advantage. I knew I could trust him not to use it against me. But could I trust him not to use it for what he thought was my own good?

He would never harm me; of that I was certain. And he would always have the advantage of experience over me. That would not change when I became a Knight. It mattered very little when we became involved. In some ways, he would always be my Master. It was inevitable, as was our ending up together.

There was no use in debating the point. The decision had been made, and we were both happier and more focused for it. The past six months had been proof of that. Whatever came out of it would be worth it in the end.

That thought gave me confidence as I finished dressing and hurried out to the main room.

"Your form is very lax today, Padawan."

I gasped for breath as I crouched, hands on my knees. My eyes followed him through half of his circles around me. "Shall I try again, Master?"

He stopped, studying me in that maddening way again. "No. I think that's enough until you've had some sleep."

I'm still not sure if it was his tone or his insistence on pointing out my lack of sleep and the reason for it that bothered me more. "I'm fine," I bit out. "I'd like to try it again."

He stared at me again, until I was certain he would say no. "All right," he said finally. "One more time."

"Thank you," I said, hiding my surprise as I moved back into the first position. I managed to get through the entire exercise, but I knew it was even worse than the last one. I could barely look at Qui-Gon when I finished.

"That's all for today," he said in a neutral voice. I tried to meet his yes, but he turned away. "I believe you have some studying to do, so I'll see you in our quarters later."

"Master--"

He turned back. "I have an appointment, Padawan. We will talk when I return to our rooms."

"Yes, sir."

I had intended for the phrase to sound normal, but it came out more defeated, and his face softened. He touched my cheek briefly. "It will be all right, Obi-Wan. I promise."

With that, he was gone, leaving me to shower and pretend to study until he returned.

I stared at the datapad in front of me, seeing about as much of the information there as I had for the past half hour. I hadn't even changed screens since picking it up. My mind was on two things--the dreams, and what Qui-Gon was off doing about them.

His appointment was about my problem, I knew it. He'd been well-shielded all day, but I knew him well enough to read him through methods other than the Force. The connection between us was the single most wondrous thing in my life. To be able to look into his mind, into his soul, and know what he was thinking and feeling was the greatest gift I could ever have hoped for.

However, just as I can sense another person in the room, another presence in my mind does not go unnoticed. And that presence can be locked out completely, as effectively as locking the door that stands in the way.

In the years as his Padawan I learned to read my Master through action, expressions and his tone of voice. Since our bond has strengthened, I've known more of his mind than ever before, which has also allowed my ability to read him to expand. Most of the time he doesn't need to know or even cooperate when I see him frown for me to know the reason behind it.

Despite all that, he was hiding himself well from me this morning. I got nothing from him except that his preoccupation had to do with me, and that my training session only made the situation worse. And now I was left to wait with growing frustration while he sorted out whatever this was and came back to tell or not tell me what he thought was going on, depending on variables I had no control over.

I was saved from the futile but satisfying action of banging my head on the wall by his return. I made a show of being deeply interested in what I was reading. He would see through the act, but it was expected. And it allowed me time to compose myself.

He sat down next to me before interrupting my studies. "How are you feeling, Padawan?"

"Fine, Master." I made a show of moving to the next screen, never taking my eyes off the pad. "How was your appointment?"

"Good." He sat there for a moment. "Obi-Wan."

I stared intently at the pad. "Hmm?"

"Look at me." He took the pad out of my hand and placed it on the table beside him, leaving me no choice but to look. "I want to try something."

"What?" My voice wasn't as steady as I would have liked.

"I want to try to guide you through the dream to look for clues."

"You want me to go to sleep and try to have a nightmare?"

He shook his head. "I think we can accomplish this with meditation. However, I need you to lower your shields as much as possible if it's to work."

After a brief hesitation, I nodded. "You've done this before?"

"No. It's usually done by a healer. But I am familiar with the process, and I think under the circumstances it will help."

"What circumstances?"

Qui-Gon stopped in the middle of putting down the meditation mats. "The more trust you have in the guide, the better the chance of success."

I shrugged, then joined him on the mats. "Let's get started then."

I settled into a light meditation and waited. After a moment, I could feel his presence growing stronger in my mind. [Obi-Wan?]

[Yes, Master?]

[I want you to focus on the dream. Remember what you saw and how it felt.]

Focusing on the dream was the last thing I wanted, but I did as he asked. As the memories of the dream came back, I fought the urge to pull away from them. I could feel my master guiding my thoughts down the narrow path that held the dreams.

It was an odd feeling, having someone else direct my thoughts. More intimate than the feel of a Force suggestion. It would have been a rather pleasant feeling, if it weren't for the dreams.

As we drew closer to the dream, my body started to rebel in spite of my attempts to control it. My pulse began to race, my breathing became more shallow--I knew all the signs. Normally I also knew how to control them, but not in this situation.

We came to a door along the path, one that did not automatically open when we approached. After a slight pause, I heard Qui-Gon's voice in my head again. [Open the door, Obi-Wan.]

I reached out, or rather my mental self did, and touched the keypad. It sent a jolt of power through my arm and straight to my head. Pain sliced through my brain. I lost what little calm I had left and shoved my consciousness, and Qui-Gon, as far from that door as I could.

When I awoke, we were still on the mats. Qui-Gon was holding me tightly, and my head hurt. Even without opening my eyes, the light in the room was making the headache worse. "What happened?" I mumbled, reaching up to cover my eyes.

"You had an adverse reaction to removing the block."

"What?"

"There's a mental block standing between you and the cause of the dreams. When you tried to remove it, it stopped you."

"Feels like a heard of banthas stopped me," I said, attempting to open my eyes, which only caused me to shut them quickly and bury my head against Qui-Gon's chest.

Qui-Gon's hold tightened further. "Perhaps I should take you to the healers."

"No, no. I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

"As you wish."

He waited until I turned away from his chest and opened my eyes. It hurt, but not as badly. I managed to act normal. "See? Nothing. I'll be fine."

The look on his face told me he wasn't so sure, but he let it go. "We need to reconsider this method. Let's forget it for now."

"That's fine with me," I agreed wholeheartedly. I knew convincing him to drop it completely was out of the question. So I leaned into him and enjoyed his healing presence, and let tomorrow take care of itself.

We didn't discuss it the rest of the afternoon. I managed to avoid visiting the healers, but only by promising to take things easy. Which, I quickly found out, meant staying on the sofa and allowing Qui-Gon to take care of my every need.

While I normally would have enjoyed such a privilege, in this case I resented the implication that I couldn't take care of myself. I was not some kind of invalid. Nor was I a child in need of looking after. I was, however, a man very impatient for night to fall.

"Would you like a drink?"

I blinked at my master. Something about that question bothered me. It was oddly familiar. I shook my head, wondering when I'd stop looking for ghosts where none existed. Of course that question was familiar. I'd been hearing it all my life.

"Obi-Wan, would you like something to drink?"

"No. Thank you." I leaned back on the couch and pretended to study my datapad, all the while wondering how I could get him out of the room long enough to set up a few things.

Eventually, he left to shower, waving off my attempts to join him. When he was gone, I rubbed my neck, trying to dispel the tension there. If I'd done it with him around I knew he would have sent me straight to bed. Alone.

And alone was not what I had planned.

I lowered the lights in the room and poured both of us a drink. I took off my belt and sash, but left the rest of my clothes on. It would be much more fun for Qui-Gon to take them off. That done, I relaxed into the sofa with my drink, focusing the Force on my headache just enough to take the edge off without alerting my master to the pain.

Several moments later, Qui-Gon stopped short when he walked back into the room. "Did something happen to the lights?" he asked with a smile.

I shrugged, watching as he crossed the room. So much grace in someone so large and powerful. It never ceased to amaze me. "I turned them down."

"I thought I told you to stay on the sofa."

"I'm on the sofa." I patted the space next to me. "Care to join me?"

He sat down beside me, studying my head with his hands and eyes as if he could sense any problem just by touch or sight. "How are you feeling?"

"I have this terrible ache."

"Your headache is back?"

"No."

One hand was resting on my cheek; I turned my head and ran my tongue from the middle of his palm to the tip of his finger. "Obi-Wan...I don't think...."

"Yes, you do. That's your problem. You think too much and too long and too hard. Stop." Before he could argue I leaned up and captured his mouth in a kiss. My hand snaked around his neck to hold him there, and after a moment he surrendered.

"This isn't a good...." Whatever protest he was about to make died as my other hand reached down and massaged the growing hardness under the thin pants he wore. Still, he tried once more. "Obi-Wan, wait..."

"Shhhh." I covered his mouth again, tasting his lips, then delving deeper, my tongue exploring his. He groaned, and I felt his pleasure wash over me, matching my own and surpassing it. Before he could change his mind again, I removed his pants, my hand finding his now-straining erection and caressing the soft skin with feather light touches.

"Obi-Wan...." This time it was more of a moan than a warning. His head fell back against the sofa as I increased the pressure of my fingers slightly. "Please...."

His hands moved restlessly over my shoulders, down my arms and to my waist, finding their way under my tunic and gripping my sides. Something about the feeling seemed wrong for a brief second before pain sliced through my head, worse than before.

I fell away from him, fell off the sofa, gripping my head. The pain was worse than any I'd ever encountered, and with it came images. Faster than I could process at first, and then slower. Just slow enough that I could begin to make sense out of them, and the pieces began to fall into place.

The pain receded some, enough for me to stand. I staggered to my feet and stared down at Qui-Gon, who I thought was eyeing me with more understanding than he should. I couldn't talk. I couldn't put into words what was still sorting itself out in my brain. So I did the only thing I could do.

I ran.

I had no idea where I was going. I only knew I had to get out of the Temple. Everyone who grew up in the Temple knew the little ways to sneak out unnoticed. I was able to escape without arousing suspicion, despite my haste and my distraction.

Once I was out in the city, I flagged down a car for hire and pointed him in a direction, still unsure of my destination. The area I was looking for was now etched into my mind, but the path to it was less clear. Finally I recognized something about one of the streets. "Turn here."

When I found the spot I was looking for, I told the driver to stop. I managed to find enough money in my pockets to pay the fare. I didn't have enough to return, but then I wasn't sure I was going back.

The alley was dark and dirty. Just as I remembered it. Not that my memories were clear, but I knew dark and dirty was right. It fit.

Now that I was there, I stood helplessly in the middle of the narrow road. I didn't know what to do. I'd come here to deal with what had happened here. It had never occurred to me that I didn't know how.

As the memories washed over me, I sensed a presence. No, not yet. I wasn't ready.

"Obi-Wan."

Ready or not, I had no choice. "How did you find me so fast?" The crack in my voice was disappointing. He couldn't get through my shields; I didn't want to give him any outward indication of just how much this was affecting me.

"I knew where you would go."

He was standing close, but not too close. The perfect distance for the perfect master, dealing with the situation perfectly. My stomach turned over. "So you knew all along?"

"Not all along. But I suspected early on."

"And you kept it from me." He didn't answer, so I was forced to look at him. "You knew what the dreams were about and you just let me suffer?"

"I could not tell you, not until I knew what effect telling you before you were ready might have on you." He moved a step closer. "How much do you remember?"

I shook my head. "Enough to know if there is anything I've forgotten I don't want to know it." He didn't seem satisfied with that answer. "I think I remember almost everything. In fact," I said, my voice growing louder, "would you like me to recount it all?" I wandered around the small space, looking at the walls of the buildings, kicking small rocks around on the ground. I followed the wall up to the sky. The building towered over me, the top so far away I could barely see it. It made the area seem even more confined than it had a moment before.

"Obi-Wan...."

As he said my name, he put his hand on my shoulder. It was more than I could take. I shook him off. "You want to know about my birthday party? Or the events that followed? Let's talk about my drinks with friends. You can actually see the bar from here." I pointed it out as I took a deep breath. "Eighteenth birthday, they told me. You have to go out and have drinks. I just wanted to stay at the Temple. But I gave in."

I knew my voice was betraying my anger, just as I knew he didn't want to hear any of this again. I also didn't care. The memories were overwhelming, and if this was the only way to get them out, then so be it. "Drinks for the birthday boy. That's what they said. They bought us drinks, and then they left. Only they didn't really leave. They came over here.

"They must have heard my plans to leave. I wanted to go back to the Temple." Back to Qui-Gon, actually, and although I didn't say it, it was obvious he knew that as well. "So I left my friends, and I came through here."

I looked around, then pointed to a recess in the building wall. "One of them was hiding there. The other two were waiting around the corner. The ground was so hard, and the rocks were cutting into my knees, but still I tried to fight them. In spite of the sick feeling in my stomach, in spite of the gag they'd stuffed in my mouth that didn't even let me cry out for help, I still tried. I just couldn't control the Force enough to fight them off. And there were three of them."

"They gave you a drug in your drink to inhibit your Force abilities, you couldn't be expected--"

"I don't care! I should have been able to do something! I'm a Jedi, for Force sake, I can't neutralize three men?"

"You were drugged. You aren't responsible."

His calm insistence was only making it worse. "I could have stopped them! I could have stayed with my friends, I could have not accepted the drink, I could have stayed at the Temple like I'd wanted in the first place! But no! I did everything wrong, and I paid for it!"

"You did nothing wrong--"

"You weren't here; what do you know?"

"I was."

"Oh, right." I laughed, or at least it felt like a laugh. I didn't recognize the sound. "Perfect Master to the perfect rescue. How could I forget?"

I saw a drop of water glistening on his face. Surely it couldn't be a tear. Perfection doesn't cry. "If I were so perfect, I would have rescued you before...." Another drop of water appeared, even though his voice was still calm and even.

"Before what? Before he 'had his way with me?'" My voice was hoarse. "Or shall I drop the polite terms? You didn't get here in time to stop him from raping me? Is that what you meant? Oh well." I shrugged. "You stopped the others. Two out of three is better than nothing."

I watched him, fascinated, as he brought himself under control before speaking again. "We shouldn't be here. Let's talk about this at home."

"No. I'm not ready to go back."

I was calmer now, but he seemed more disturbed by my lack of anger than he had been by my earlier display. "Obi-Wan, let's go back to the Temple."

"No."

As I turned to walk away I felt his hand on my shoulder. The contact was the last straw. I whirled around, jerking his hand off me in the process. "Don't touch me." My voice was low and dangerous; even to my own ears I sounded like a stranger.

"Fine." His hand fell away. "Just come with me. Everything will be fine."

His voice was calm, almost soothing, I thought. Then I felt the subtle manipulation in my mind, the Force seeking to neutralize my emotions. I threw up the shields I'd dropped in my anger. They were shaky, but they held him out. "Don't ever do that again."

"Come back with me and I won't have to."

"I can't. I need to be alone."

"You can be alone at the Temple."

"No. I need to be here." I turned, my urge to run barely restrained, and began to walk away.

I felt him behind me, but was too slow to react. "I'm sorry," he said a second before everything went black.

I awoke to the knowledge that Qui-Gon was there beside the bed, waiting. The bond still existed between us, its ties not as easily broken as the dam that had held my memories at bay. Without conscious effort on my Master's part, the bond reached out to comfort me, demanding that I take the solace it offered. I recoiled from the presence, from his presence in my mind, wishing for the first time it wasn't there. I wanted to be alone. And that wasn't possible.

He knew I was awake, but he chose to wait until I was ready to face him. I doubted he would wait forever before forcing me to talk to him. I had no desire to open my eyes and see the pity of those around me. With the knowledge of what happened came the memories of the aftermath. The silence, the secrecy, and the shame were in some ways worse. Having blocked the memories out was a blessed gift; having them returned was a nightmare.

I knew it was best to face the truth, not hide from it. But I didn't want to face it. When I tried to think about what happened, my emotions threatened to overwhelm me. No attempt to release the feelings into the Force could be enough. The pain was too great.

And yet I knew I had to find a way. This had to be dealt with, even if I apparently hadn't been able to do so years ago. My Master had taught me it was better to face things than to ignore them and let them fester. He'd drilled it into my head.

And then he'd let me go on being ignorant of what happened. "Why didn't you tell me?" My back was to him, and I didn't boter to turn over when I asked the question. I couldn't. Not yet. I wasn't even ready to open my eyes.

"I couldn't risk causing you more harm."

I laughed then, unable to contain the harsh sound. "I hardly think I could be worse than this."

"Don't be so certain. How much do you remember?"

"I told you what I remember."

"Not of that. Of what came after."

My eyes opened reluctantly, and I was surprised to find myself in a room in the medical centre. I had expected to be in my own room. Or even in his room. "Why are we here?"

"Given the circumstances, I thought it was the safest place to be. And you are avoiding my question."

"I would rather not talk about it." Too much pain. Too much humiliation. And too much shame. It was hard enough thinking about it; to discuss it would only make it more real.

"Be that as it may, I am waiting for an answer." Despite the mild tone, there was an underlying impatience in his voice.

I glanced at him for a moment, then lay back on the bed and closed my eyes once more. He wouldn't tell me. Fine. "After you rescued me you brought me back to the Temple. To my room. I remember one Healer, and Master Yoda. And silence."

"Silence?"

"Silence," I repeated with a nod. "Whispers while I tried to sleep, very few direct questions and even fewer direct answers. And an overwhelming need for secrecy."

"Secrecy?"

"Must you repeat everything I say?"

He ignored the belligerent tone of my outburst. "If it is the only way to get this information from you, then yes."

I barely refrained from growling at him. My head hurt, and answering questions was not on my list of things I needed to do. But it was obvious he wouldn't give up until he got answers. "It was important to keep knowledge of what happened to as few people as possible." The silent understanding that if my shame did not come to light I might yet be allowed to finish my training and become a Knight had been foremost in my mind in those days following the incident.

"Obi-Wan...."

His heavy sigh pained me. I had tried to live up to his standards and repress the incident three and a half years ago, and would continue to do so, if I were given the chance. What more could he want? "Is there a problem, Master?" The emphasis I put on that last word was no an accident. I was tired. I hurt. And I didn't want to talk anymore. He had to know that. If I reacted angrily to his questions and answered reluctantly, it was his own fault.

After a slight pause, he asked, "Do you remember anything else about the days following...what happened?"

I forced myself to think about it again. Memories from that time were rather jumbled, but the ones I did have seemed to fall into the days immediately following the incident. "I only remember the first week. After that things are rather blurry for a bit, and then...it's as if I suddenly forgot about it."

Repressed memories. We'd studied them in a class, examples of what a mind can do to protect a body. We'd even laughed about them, wishing we could repress a few of our more embarrassing ones on a regular basis. Could that be the reason for my current situation? "Did I...did I somehow forget?"

I risked another glance, but he was staring at the far wall, his head twisted away from me. I could barely make out the curve of his neck and a shadow of his profile. I was tired of the confusion. I needed an answer to something, and I sensed this was the important question. "Master?"

"You did forget. But not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

His head turned, and even in the dim light I could see the intensity of his eyes. "You forgot because I made you."

"Yes. You wanted me to put it behind me, and I did."

"No." His tone was detached, almost cold, as if he were reciting facts that were of no importance. "You couldn't put it behind you. It haunted you. So I ended it."

Ended what? "I don't understand."

His eyes burned into mine. "I blocked the memories."

"You blo--" Finally what he was saying made its way to my brain. He was responsible for the block. He couldn't trust me to deal with my downfall, so he'd taken my memories. I should have thanked him. I should have begged him to do it again, and make it stick this time. I would have considered a blessed relief at that time. Yet somehow it felt wrong. "And I agreed to this?"

Suddenly his head turned, and he stared at the floor. "I did not ask."

No wonder it felt wrong. He'd gone into my mind and taken what wasn't his to take, without my consent. True, it had been in my best interests. An attempt to help. Something that eased my suffering. It was a kind gesture.

And it was no better than what had happened in that alley. "Get out."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I said leave." My voice was flat as I rolled over onto my side again, curling up with a pillow. I couldn't unleash the anger I was feeling. Coldness was so much easier.

I could sense him still standing behind me, caught in the web of unfamiliar indecision. "I can't deal with you now. Go." I pulled up the tightest shields I'd ever constructed and blockaded the link between us.

That seemed to break the spell. I heard him walk to the door and open it. Then I was alone. Truly alone.

Time turned hazy, and I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, refusing to think, but unable to keep the thoughts from sneaking up against my will. It all happened so long ago. And yet because of the block it felt like yesterday. I could almost feel the physical side effects of the incident. The bruises, the scrapes, the cuts, and other more painful physical sensations that I knew were not real took up residence in my mind, and therefore in my body. My stomach ached, then turned over when the Healer brought my meal.

I ignored the food and continued to lie on my side, clutching the pillow and trying to clear my mind. But I had too many thoughts. Perhaps I should call Qui-Gon in to clear it for me, I thought bitterly. He'd certainly done his best the first time. And the memories had come back anyway. So he wasn't perfect after all. The thought was of very little comfort as I lay there, wondering how to keep everything inside of me from blowing me into a thousand pieces in an attempt to escape.

He'd taken my memories and locked them away where I couldn't reach them. I'd trusted him enough to let him into my mind, and he repaid me by violating my thoughts without my permission. In a way, it hurt worse than the alley. That, at least, was perpetrated by strangers. Strangers I now remembered had all been dealt with in quick order by Qui-Gon in his rescue. They hadn't needed a trial; they'd all gone straight to the morgue.

But I'd trusted Qui-Gon. And he'd betrayed me in the worst way. Even if he had believed he was doing it for my own good, it didn't even begin to excuse his actions. I wasn't sure anything ever could.

It was inevitable that he'd come back, so I wasn't surprised when the door opened. I didn't have to turn over; even with my shields I still recognized him. Apparently he had waited what he considered the proper amount of time to comply with my wishes and now he wanted to try again. Force forbid he actually wait until I was ready and sent for him. "What do you want?" Every ounce of hostility in my question was intentional.

"We need to talk."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!" I sat up, meeting his eyes, steeling myself against the plea in his gaze. Hardening my resolve. Maybe if he saw the emotion burning under my tight control, he'd realize the truth of my words. "There is nothing you could say right now that would do either of us any good."

"Not even an explanation? And an apology?"

"Nothing."

He frowned. "I am still your master. If I say we need to talk--"

"Not anymore."

That hit home. "What?"

"I wish to petition the council for a new master."

"You need to think about this--"

"I've thought about it! You'll not manipulate me again. Please tell the council I wish to speak to them as soon as possible. And I'll pass the message along other routes as well, in case you forget."

He flinched at the implication he would intentionally not relay the request. Then his face went blank as a mask of serenity slipped into place. "Very well," he answered as he turned and left the room. I waited until he was down the hall before I let my anger slip and crashed back onto the bed. It had to be this way. I could go on with my life and put this ordeal behind me, and he would be relieved of a less-than-perfect padawan. Everyone would win.

Someone came with a meal in the morning. He shook his head over the untouched meal from the night before, but left without a word. Another person came in midmorning to check on me, but it was almost lunchtime before anyone challenged my right to lie here and suffer.

"I'm told you're not eating."

The voice was familiar. I raised my head far enough to see the face that went with it. Human female, somewhere around 50 standard years. Someone I felt I should know...oh yes. The Healer who'd treated me when the incident happened. "I'm not hungry," I answered as I lay my head back again and closed my eyes.

"I didn't ask if you were. We put the food here for you to eat, Padawan. If you do not do so, how are you supposed to get well?"

"There's nothing physically wrong with me." This was true enough. The physical side-effects I'd been feeling were all psychological, and now that I had gone numb, I no longer had to deal with them. They were just there, existing somewhere with the rest of the feelings I'd locked away.

"Then what are you doing in that bed?"

I searched for an answer, realized there wasn't one that she would accept, and shrugged. "Deciding what to do with the rest of my life."

"Shouldn't you consult your master on this?"

"I have no master," I ground out through my teeth.

"Then I suppose the man who checks on you every ten minutes is lying?"

Again I shrugged. "Perhaps he is delusional."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps he refuses to accept your rejection?"

What had she heard? "Who are you?"

"Healer B'Marei."

"Yes, I know." I remembered her name from the first time. But from her comment, I sensed she knew Qui-Gon as more than just a passing acquaintance. It made sense; he would have trusted her discretion when I was injured, and he would have asked her to look after me while he could not now. My anger returned anew. I did not need a keeper, especially not one who would report back to him like a well-trained droid. "Who are you to Qui-Gon Jinn?"

"Healer B'Marei."

I turned my back on her, but she remained. "What else do you want from me?" I asked finally.

"I would like to help you."

"You can't."

"You're right. I can't. Not if you don't let me try."

Why couldn't she just leave me alone? "It's too late for you to help me."

"Why?"

"Because the time to help me was when it happened. Now...now it's too late."

"You're still breathing. As long as that is true, it's not too late."

She sat on the bed behind me, and it took everything I had not to shove her off. I contained my building rage with effort. "I don't want your help."

"Maybe not. However, you have it, and that is not going to change, no matter how much you wish it would."

I turned toward her suddenly, almost dislodging her from the bed. "What do you want from me?"

To her credit, she did not flinch as I yelled. "I want you to face what happened. And to do that, you have to stop wallowing in the unfairness of it, you have to stop shutting yourself off from the deeper emotions, and you have to talk to someone."

"Talk?" I laughed bitterly. "No one wanted me to talk when it happened. Everyone seemed to think it was something that was best forgotten."

"That is regrettable."

"Why? Isn't it best to just get on with my life and my training? Put the past behind me and 'concentrate on the here and now' without looking back?" Force knows I'd heard that enough to apply it here. "I'm supposed to just go back to being 'perfect' Qui-Gon's perfect Padawan, isn't that the point?"

The Healer shook her head. "Qui-Gon Jinn's student you are, in every way."

"What do you mean by that?" She would have gotten a milder response if she had mocked my ability as a Jedi.

"Qui-Gon is not without his faults."

"You don't need to tell me that."

"Are you sure?"

I stared at her. She appeared to be sane, so I wondered if she was just delusional. "I would not be requesting a new master if I thought my current one was perfect."

"I disagree."

Her calm but stubborn insistence only served to further fuel my visible anger. "I don't care for your opinion. I know how I feel."

"Of course you do. But how you feel, and the reasons behind it, are not always in agreement."

My headache was returning with a vengeance, and she was not helping. Her tendency to talk in riddles was confusing, and I was much too tired to sort out her meaning. "Say what you mean, or leave me in peace."

"I could tell you what I think is behind your request, but you would not believe me."

"On that point we agree." I refused to believe that she knew more about what was going on in my mind than I did. She knew Qui-Gon's point of view; she did not know mine.

"I know." She rose from the bed and took several steps toward the door. "I will be back; you can't get rid of me that easily. But while I'm gone, I want you to think about something. Is it Qui-Gon's imperfections that make you long to remove yourself from his tutelage, or is it your own?"

She left before I could give into the urge to throw the pillow at her. Not that I would have. But considering it made me feel better. Apparently I was not going to be allowed to choose a new master or a new Healer. I had no choice in anything, not now, not in the past, and probably not in the future.

I rolled over onto my side again and stared at the wall. But this time, there was no blessed peace of numbness. This time, the emotions threatened to overtake me. I closed my eyes and tried to centre myself, but found the Force slipping around me, just out of my reach. Still, I tried until the effort left me exhausted. My failure to perform even the simplest of meditation techniques was more than I could take, and I lashed out at the first solid object I could find--the table holding my untouched meal. I sent it flying with a crash that wasn't nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped. Finding nothing else worth throwing, I turned back to the wall, holding my pillow close to my stomach while the rage inside me shimmered and I wondered how I'd ever control anything again.

Heat. It was so warm there. I looked around at the barren ground, at the deep crevices in the earth. As far as the eye could see there were mountains and canyons, in varying shades from dark reddish brown to light tan. All of the surfaces reflected the harsh sunlight, and there was no relief in sight. Just open, empty space that seemed to be closing in.

The canyon floor far below me beckoned softly. How easy it would be to give in, to take one step, then one more and feel the lack of solid ground for a split-second before gravity took over and I fell. To have only seconds to go before my ordeal was over.

Eyes closed, I reached out with my foot and felt only the air. A small hop, then the ground was gone, and new ground was rising to meet me at an astonishing rate.

I jerked out of sleep a second before I would have hit the ground. Falling didn't bother me. It was the dream itself that had me disconcerted. I had deliberately stepped off the cliff. That was not something I could do. I didn't want to die.

Not that it wouldn't make things easier. But to choose death rather than face what happened? I considered the idea. No...I had considered the idea--when this first happened. The memory came flooding back. I'd dismissed it each time it had come to mind, but I had considered it. I'd thought of jumping off cliffs, off buildings, out of transports--anything to get rid of the terrible pain I was carrying.

But I couldn't get rid of it. It wasn't going to just go away; I was stuck with it.

Or was I? Qui-Gon had taken the memory once, against my will. And all the pain had gone with it. What if he took it all again? If he performed the memory wipe with my cooperation, there was a good chance it could stay gone.

That decision made, I reached for the com link. I didn't care if it was the middle of the night; there was no time like the present.

Ten minutes later, he was standing in my room, clothing wrinkled as though he hadn't changed for bed. I crossed my arms and stared at him. How could I explain my revelation? "I...I'm sorry to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping." He hesitated, then continued. "I could sense your emotions. Sometimes that makes it rather difficult to sleep."

Obviously my shielding abilities in sleep needed some work. "Again, I apologize." Politeness was of great importance; if I was short with him, he could simply refuse to help me.

He tensed almost imperceptibly. "What's wrong?"

"I know now what I have to do to fix this," I blurted out. "Or, more accurately, what you have to do."

"I would be happy to help in any way." His words were soft, with just a hint of concern, but I didn't think he would mind my request.

"I want you to take the memories away again. And this time, make them stay gone."

He shook his head before I'd even finished. "I would do anything in my power...except that."

"What? Why?"

"It isn't right."

I stared at him, scarcely able to believe my ears. "You took them to begin with. This time I'm offering you the chance to do it right."

"That I did what I did is something I will have to live with." His eyes met mine as if he were searching for something there. "I only hope it hasn't done irreparable damage to you."

"You're serious? You really won't do this one thing for me?" 'Again' was the unspoken ending to the sentence. He'd done it once; how could he now say it was wrong if it wasn't against my will?

He closed his eyes, as if reaching for his strength. "I would lay down my life to fix this. That is why I cannot do what you ask."

"Fine, then I shall ask the healer to do it."

"She won't."

My eyes narrowed to small slits. "Why? Because you'll tell her not to?"

"No, because she knows that is not the way to deal with what happened."

"Yet you were all so eager to deal with it that way the first time."

"No. I made the decision. I consulted no one, and I made sure to see it through before anyone could talk me out of it."

"Then do it again."

He shook his head. "I will not."

We'd been standing in the same spots since he arrived, neither of us moving to change the distance between us, but now I turned to the side and began to pace. "You don't understand what it's like."

"Tell me."

His eyes were pleading with me to try to explain what I was going through. Part of me wanted to ask him why he didn't just search the memories when he'd taken them from me, but I dismissed the idea. I didn't want to risk my last chance at him helping me. And if telling him just what I was going through would do it, then that's what I had to do. It would only be painful until he took the memories again. And I was confident he would after he heard this.

"It's like...." How could I explain the gut-wrenching pain, the anger, the fear, the hatred, the guilt and the shame? They're just words that conjure up pale imitations of what living the real thing is like. "Imagine that someone who turned to the Dark formed an unwanted bond with you, and you were powerless to stop them and even after it was removed, you could never entirely be free of it."

My hands were shaking, so I hid them, crossing my arms in front of myself as I continued my steady line back and forth across the floor, staring down at the tile. "Imagine the pain burned in your head constantly, like that bond had just been seared into your mind at that moment, and you found yourself reliving the whole thing over and over, like a holovid stuck on replay. You spend almost every hour of every day, wondering why he picked you, what you could have done to stop it, and most of all, how you can just make it all stop hurting so damn much that you want to die rather than feel that pain another moment."

I felt moisture on my cheek and wiped it away absently. It couldn't be tears; forcing myself to explain this was too painful for mere tears. I managed a glance at Qui-Gon and noticed his eyes were suspiciously bright. "You wanted to know what it's like. Take everything I just told you, and then multiply it by an infinite number. That's what it's like."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I would do anything to take away your pain. But wiping out the memories won't help."

I marvelled at his tone. Waves of fear, anger, frustration and regret flowed from him, crashing against my shields and leaking through the cracks they left. Yet his voice was calm and even, as if he were negotiating a treaty between two planets he couldn't care less about beyond his duty as a Jedi. "You're really refusing me? After everything that's happened, after everything I just told you, you won't do this for me?"

"I was wrong to have done it to begin with. A mistake we're both paying for."

"Mistake?" I laughed. "Mistake! That's what you call it? A mistake?" The laughter grew louder for a moment, the hollow sound increasing my headache. I had no more patience for his games. "Get out."

"Obi-Wan--"

"I said get out!" I sat down on the bed with my back to him and waited. After a moment, I heard the door, and then I was alone again. I reached out almost absently with the Force to shut off the lights. The dark was more suited to my mood.

He'd denied me the one thing I wanted most. No, he'd made me bare my soul, open up every wound I'd been trying to heal since regaining my memory and then denied me what I wanted. It was fine for him to take what he wanted when he felt he should, but Force forbid I should ask for it. Then, suddenly, it was wrong.

I lay down on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest. In the morning I would ask the healers. And if they said no, I would ask someone else. Perhaps Master Yoda could be persuaded to help me.

But until morning, there was nothing to do but lie there, staring at the wall in the darkness, trying to close up the wounds I'd opened. Wounds that seemed destined never to heal.

Morning brought no new answers, and no relief. It did, however, bring back the Healer. "Good morning," she said cheerfully as she walked into the room.

I squinted up against the sudden brightness of the lights. "That's a matter of opinion."

"Most things in life are," she said as she took in the scattered mess I'd made of dinner the night before. "Should I have someone come in and clean that up? If you plan to do that with breakfast, I won't bother."

Momentary guilt washed through me at the childish action. The people in the medical centre had enough to do trying to help others without me creating needless work. But then I remembered that I hadn't chosen to be here in the first place. "Perhaps you should let me go back ho--" I stopped in confusion. I couldn't say home. Home was an illusion, one that had been shattered with the trust I'd apparently misplaced in Qui-Gon. I hadn't slept in my own bed in six months, and even if I went back there, it still meant sharing living quarters with him. That was something I wasn't prepared to do.

"You wish to go home?"

"I have no home. However, I would be happy to remove myself to any empty living quarters available."

The Healer shook her head. "If I'm satisfied with my examination, I'll release you to your quarters under the supervision of your Master."

"I told you, I have no Master."

"I heard you the first time. However, the Council says differently, and until they tell me otherwise, your master is Qui-Gon Jinn, and that's the only person who can get you out of here."

I glared at her, my anger growing when my stare seemed to have no effect. She went about her examination, making noises over her findings and entering notes on a datapad several times. Once the short physical exam was over, she sat down in the chair next to the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I want out of here."

"We've established that. What I want to know is what else is going through your mind beyond that."

Her question made no sense to me. I was fine, considering everything I'd been through. I didn't see how my thoughts had anything to do with my physical condition in this case. Surely believing that I was fine was the best thing for me. It made forgetting so much easier.

Suddenly, something she'd said moments earlier came back to me. "You said the Council says Qui-Gon is still my master. They have heard about my...about what happened?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't they? Several of them have been by to check on your progress."

She seemed genuinely surprised that I would find that odd. "But I thought--who else knows?"

"No one has made an announcement or anything like that. But the Temple grapevine is quite effective. Several of your friends have been by to see you, but we thought it best to restrict your visitors."

"I understand." I studied my fingernails intently. It was bad enough that so many people knew; of course they wouldn't want those people to actually see me in my shame.

The Healer sighed loudly, dragging me out of my thoughts. "Exactly what is it you think you understand?"

"That it isn't appropriate for anyone to see me after what happened."

"We restricted your visitors because your shielding was so erratic. Those who aren't prepared to deal with the sudden onslaughts of emotions you were broadcasting could suffer. And before you start blaming yourself, it's no one's fault. It's just a side-effect of what was done to you."

"What was done to me." I laughed bitterly, something that was becoming a habit. "Are you referring to the rape of my body, or the rape of my mind?"

She sighed again. "Obi-Wan, look at me." After a moment, I complied. Anything to get her out of here sooner. "It's regrettable that you were in that alley. It's terrible that those men did what they did. But you were drugged. You couldn't do anything about it. I took a blood sample that night. With the amount of that drug that was in your system, you should have been unconscious. That you managed to stay awake, much less put up any kind of struggle, speaks volumes about your strong will."

"And a great deal of good it did me. I still had to be rescued. Only to be violated in a completely different way."

"Stop that. Of course you had to be rescued. How many creatures have you rescued? How many Jedi have you gone in to save when something went wrong on a mission? None of us are infallible."

I fought back the anger that threatened to rise as she spoke and tried to listen to what she said. "Then who do I blame?" I asked finally, dismayed at the crack in my voice. I didn't want to be upset. I wanted to be done with the whole ordeal.

"Blame the men who drugged you. Blame them, release your anger, and let it go. Find peace over anger. That's the only way you'll be able to start healing."

She made it sound so simple. Let it go. Three little words to describe such a large task. "I'll think about what you said," I responded finally, turning away, hoping she'd get the hint and leave.

Apparently she did have some compassion. She stood and walked out, leaving me to stare at the wall and try not to think.

The respite was short-lived. Within an hour, I heard my door open again. Assuming it was the healer, I didn't bother to turn over or even acknowledge her. Perhaps she would allow me the pretence of sleep and leave.

"Hiding, you are. Why?"

I stifled a groan. One does not groan at Master Yoda, no matter how great the temptation. "No, Master," I replied as I rolled over, gaining a sideways view of the diminutive master, his face shrouded in shadows. "Not hiding. Re-evaluating."

"Hmph. Heard of your request, we did. Your master, Qui-Gon remains."

A large headache began creeping up my neck as I sat up. "How am I to train under a master I no longer trust?"

"Think you he meant harm by his actions?"

It took a large amount of effort to keep my voice calm. "No. But he caused harm all the same."

"Difficult it is, sometimes, to see beyond the immediate good. The easiest path often appears the best. Foolish, Qui-Gon's actions were. But based in love they were also."

"I understand. He wanted to spare me the shame of what happened."

"No! Shame, there is not. Wanted to spare you pain, he did. Saw your suffering and wanted it to end. Think you he came to the decision to go against his training lightly?"

And I was supposed to be grateful for that? "No. That does not change his decision, however."

"Change the past, we cannot. The future...up to you that is. Careful, you must be, not to make the same mistake Qui-Gon did."

"What mistake could I possibly make that could equal his?"

"Made his decision based on emotion, he did. So certain, you are, you wish for a new master?"

I nodded, wondering where the trap was in his question. For a long moment he studied me, then his head shook slightly. "Much anger you have inside. Dealt with, it must be, before any decisions can be made. Until then, things stay as they are."

"What will it take to convince you?"

"Know, you will, when you have the answers I seek."

His riddle-speak was increasing the pain in my head. I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes. "I don't know what you expect from me."

"Honesty to yourself, I expect. Only then honest with me can you be. Understand you why the memories only now resurface?"

Several short responses came to mind, any of which would have been received with great disapproval. I almost didn't care. Almost. I settled for a weary, "I suppose you do?"

"Mysterious, the human brain is. Allows you to deal with things when ready you are. Safe, you were. Better equipped to handle what happened while secure with your life. With Qui-Gon."

His deliberate use of my Master's name instead of his title caught my attention. He actually wanted me to believe my relationship with Qui-Gon was the reason I felt safe enough to deal with what happened? My eyes popped open, my head turning to meet his steady gaze. "That security was based on a lie."

"Love him, you do not?"

"I loved someone I thought I knew. The man I thought he was couldn't have done what he did."

"So certain, are you? Believed he would give his life for yours?" I nodded slowly. "Serious repercussions there could be for what Qui-Gon did. Yet risked them he did to see your suffering end."

I didn't want to think about that. "He made the wrong decision."

"Two wrong decisions, right that would make it?"

"Would you have done what he did, had this happened to him when he was your padawan?"

"Different, the situations are. Survive my padawan's suffering I could. Stand by and watch his heart suffer, Qui-Gon could not. His mistake he knows. Do this again, he would not."

"Until the next time."

"No. Asked him, you did. Forgotten his answer so quickly, have you?"

Of course. Master Yoda would know; Qui-Gon would have gone straight to him. "I haven't forgotten. Once again he made a decision with no regard for my feelings because he knows best. I fail to see the difference."

The master's ears flattened slightly, and I squirmed uncomfortably on the bed. Years of being under his watchful eyes, watching his response to both my high and low points as I trained, had conditioned me to his reactions. I had displeased him.

"Meditation you require, Padawan Kenobi."

His formality stung, not nearly as easy to brush off as my own master's would have been. "Yes, Master," I agreed quietly, bowing my head in deference.

Large green eyes softened as he laid his hand on my knee. "Search yourself for truth, Obi-Wan. Have their place, your feelings do. But let go of them you must to find what you truly believe."

With that last cryptic remark, he left. I stared at the door long after he had closed it behind him. I didn't trust Qui-Gon, not now. How could I? And I didn't fully trust the healer. But Master Yoda had been there for me for as long as I could remember. Never once had he been wrong in his advice, no matter how outlandish it had seemed when first imparted.

He had also been my ally more than once in minor disputes with my master. Never had he sided with either of us out of sentimentality; instead, he had trusted his grasp on the balance within the Force and fairly backed the person in the right.

No, advice from Master Yoda was not easily ignored. Especially when it was practically a command. Somewhat reluctantly, I settled into a more comfortable position on the bed and closed my eyes.

First, I concentrated on the pain seeping up my neck into my head. I welcomed it, then released it into the Force, easing the headache, and by extension ridding myself of a distraction.

The next part was more difficult. My previous attempts at meditation had ended in frustration, and more than a little anger. The emotions surrounding me had been too chaotic, swirling around me, but eluding my attempts to grasp them and wrestle them under control. No amount of Force could rein them in.

Perhaps I hadn't truly wanted to control them.

I focused in on the emotions until I could see them--bright, intertwined bands of colour, twisting and turning all around me, waiting to come closer until they bound me tightly. As they moved in, I picked out a light purple band, identifying it with some surprise as my anger with the healers. They had kept me here, refused me my friends, and promised to release me only in the custody of one of the people responsible for my situation.

Trivial anger, something I should have dealt with almost automatically at this stage in my training. Yet it had been so buried by the other events that I hadn't even recognized it. I took a deep breath and released the feeling into the Force. The healers were doing their jobs. They could do no more and no less. Anger at them only wasted energies sorely needed elsewhere.

Several other emotions were summarily dealt with, until I was left with four coloured bands. I poked at a deep, burning red band, immediately feeling my body's reaction to the memories associated with it, but just as quickly letting the physical response fade. They were just memories. They could not hurt me here.

I had held on to my anger at the men who raped me, let it fester and spread until it allowed me to be angry at the world in general. As long as I held the anger, however, those men held control over me. They had what they wanted, from beyond the grave. I dispatched the satisfaction in their deaths almost as rapidly as I felt it. They had had one moment, and paid for it. Any emotions regarding what happened were non-productive.

The band faded, but did not disappear. I ignored it for the moment, reaching instead for the fiery red band dancing around beside it. As I pulled the bright band to me, a black band came with it. The two refused to be separated. I concentrated harder, but no amount of patience, or lack of it, would separate them.

Failing to divide the two emotions, I explored them both. The red one burned faintly as I probed it, a slow, satisfying burn. My feelings for Qui-Gon then. Love and desire washed over me, threatening to overwhelm me. I backed off slightly and turned my attention to the black band.

Rage entered my body, burning its way through my stomach and up my chest, closing off my throat. It was hard to breathe as I held that black band. Unbidden, my free hand reached out for the band of red. The two emotions fought each other, using me as a battleground, and the pain of the battle was more than I could handle.

Straining from the effort, I pulled my hands off the bands, jerking myself out of meditation with one quick move. I lay back on the bed, panting, feeling the sweat drip down the sides of my face, as I considered the implications of what just happened.

I wasn't prepared to deal with the Qui-Gon problem yet. Something was holding me back, and I couldn't go forward until I had gotten past it. I needed to talk to someone. No, not someone. I needed to talk to him.

It was still early; he would either be meditating, or exercising in a training room. He always kept to a routine when we were at the Temple. It satisfied his need for order and routine in a life that allowed it so rarely.

The Council would refuse my requests for a new master until I sorted out my feelings for the old one. And the only way I could get out of here, according to Healer B'Marei, was through Qui-Gon Jinn. All roads away from him led right through him. Everyone controlled my life, except me, but he held all the keys.

Fine. If I had to deal with him to get on with my life, then so be it. For the first time since my memories resurfaced, I walked out of the medical centre room in search of answers.

"I am sorry Padawan Kenobi, but you are restricted to the medical centre."

"But I only need to leave for a few minutes. I'll come right back."

The medical droid shook his head, the whirring and clicking sounds at odds with the human gesture. "You must stay here."

"Look--" I stopped arguing, realizing the droid was not going to go against his programming. "Get Healer B'Marei here. I need to talk to her."

The droid punched a button on the com panel in front of him, and less than two minutes later, Healer B'Marei came around the corner. "Padawan Kenobi. What seems to be the problem?"

"I need to speak with my--with Qui-Gon."

"Fine. If you'll wait in your room, I'll have someone find him for you."

I frowned, pushing down the anger threatening to rise. "No. I need to talk to him on neutral ground. Not here."

The healer gave him a long stare, then stepped back slightly. "If you're not back in an hour, everyone on Courscant will be hunting you down."

I gave her a sharp nod and headed for the door.

A quick com call confirmed Qui-Gon wasn't in his room, or at least not answering if he was. I could feel out through the bond between us and get an idea of where he was, but I didn't want to do that unless I had to. I'd closed off that bond, and I wasn't ready to open it now. At this point I wasn't sure I would ever be ready.

Four training rooms yielded several Jedi Masters, but not the one I was looking for. I checked the lower level rooms, the ones used less frequently because their shields were much stronger than needed for regular exercise. The entire section had an almost eerie quietness, both in the lack of sound and in the lack of Force noise, that constant buzz of other life forms, and especially other Jedi, that we learn to live with as children. We grow so accustomed to hearing it, it only becomes noticeable in its absence.

I knew before I peered in the window on the door that I would find Qui-Gon in the last room. Whether it was from my sense of his presence, or just knowing that he would isolate himself far away from others, I still don't know. After one moment to compose myself, I opened the door.

He was in the middle of the room, his back to the door, performing a slow kata. Apparently he'd been exercising for some time; he'd discarded his tunic, and his skin glowed with a fine sheen of moisture. The mirror on the opposite wall showed me his eyes were closed, but I had seen his back tense as I stepped silently into the room. He knew I was there.

Hands folded, I forced myself to remain calm and still while he finished the kata. No matter how I tried, I couldn't take my eyes off him as he moved through the forms, deep, even breaths raising his broad shoulders, muscles straining and relaxing under skin. A shudder ran through me as, unbidden, the memory of how that skin felt under my fingers rushed into my mind. Vivid recollections of my fingertips trailing up the length of his spine and down his back again while his lips mapped my body tormented me, memories of gripping his shoulders, my nails denting the skin there as he prepared to enter me.

Memories of being face down in an alley as one who didn't bother to prepare me shoved his way in ruthlessly, tearing me apart.

I gasped, my eyes flying open in time to see Qui-Gon miss a move and nearly brand himself with his own lightsaber. My shock had affected him, even with our shields. Or perhaps it was just the intake of breath, louder than usual in the silence surrounding us. Either way, he turned and crossed half the distance between us before apparently realizing that his comfort might be the last thing I wanted. "Obi-Wan?" he asked cautiously, ready to move in an instant if needed.

"I'm all right," I answered, pinching the area between my eyes in protest at the large headache that seemed to have suddenly settled there. "I just...the memories still hit me at the oddest times."

Guilt flashed in his eyes before he could stop the reaction, the confirmation that he felt partly responsible for my pain strangely comforting. I put that aside to deal with later, along with all of my other unresolved issues. "I needed to talk to you," I continued, my voice quiet. "I want--need to get out of the medical centre."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm not asking to leave the planet. Or even the Temple. But I need to be somewhere that doesn't remind me quite so much of...of what happened." The excuse had come to me at the last minute, once I realized I couldn't talk to him about my feelings just yet. But as I said it, I realized it might help to be somewhere new. And it would be a reason to leave the medical centre and not go back to his quarters.

"You're ready to come home then?"

I shook my head, wincing as the fading headache reasserted itself. "I need to be somewhere new, with no associations."

"And what does the healer say?"

"That I can only be released into your custody and to your quarters." I took one step closer to him, but could not go further. "I need you to talk to her. Knight Erskin moved out of the room next to your quarters last week. I assume that's still unoccupied. I'd be right next door." I swallowed, the next word more difficult than the rest. "Please."

He studied me until I felt like an insect under a clear duraplast shield. "I'll talk to her," he agreed finally. "If she agrees, then I will agree as well."

I nodded, unable to get the words of thanks past my lips. "She'll be looking for me if I don't get back to the medical centre soon, so I'd better go."

"Wait," he said, moving toward the far corner to retrieve his tunics and robe. "I'll walk back with you."

"That won't be necessary. I'll be fine." Before he could protest further, I left the room and hurried down the hall, putting as much distance between us as possible.

For the third time, I settled cross-legged on the bed and tried to focus my thoughts. "I am a leaf, blowing in the wind," I whispered, resorting to verbal techniques to focus my mind. "I move with the currents around me. My mind remains still as the air brushes by."

"I am going to scream if an answer doesn't come soon."

I laid back on the bed with a sigh, giving up entirely. Meditation was impossible with my mind in this state. Or, more likely, with my body in this place. I needed to get out.

The sound of the door jerked me up off the bed. It was Qui-Gon. "I have spoken with Healer B'Marei. She has agreed to allow you to move into Erskin's former quarters...with a few conditions."

Of course. Nothing comes without a price. "Conditions?"

"You are to have sessions with her three times a week," he said, voice in full Master mode. I wanted to throw him out, but that wouldn't get me out of med centre jail. "You also need to let me know where you are going to be when you are not in your quarters."

"Report to you like a five-year old?"

"Obi-Wan--"

"Fine. I'll leave my schedule for you every morning, fair enough?"

After a slight hesitation, Qui-Gon nodded. "The last condition is that you not shield yourself from me."

"Was that her condition, or yours?" I waited, but he didn't answer. "I can't agree to that. It's too soon."

He studied me for a long moment before sighing. "Very well. In that case, you must promise to at least talk to me...when you are ready."

"When I'm ready," I agreed. "Anything else?"

"Nothing, except for the obvious need to report to the Healer immediately if you have any physical after effects.

I nodded, and he swept an arm toward the door. "Let's go."

Now those were the best words I'd heard in a while.

Of all the ways to lose myself, the one I preferred most was sparring, at least now. Before my memories had returned, I'd had an even better method, but I was staying well clear of that after all that had happened.

"You're still leaving your left side open to attack."

At least most of the time it was a good way to lose myself. Except when Qui-Gon constantly criticized my technique. Then it just became another exercise in frustration. Once again I wondered how the Council expected me to continue to train under a man I neither trusted nor respected. Oh, I hadn't lost all respect for him. But there was far less respect there now than I'd ever had. I trusted him to watch my back and protect me. But I didn't trust him to look out for my best interests. Only for the interests he thought were best for me.

A sudden burning sensation in my left hip let me know that I was still leaving my left side open to attack. I jumped back, but Qui-Gon continued after me, pressing his attack as if his life depended on it. Or mine. He took my training very seriously, that I knew. I pushed my thoughts aside and focused on fighting again, defending against his lightning quick sabre moves and thwarting a second attempt to scorch my hip, only to be hit in the knee.

That burn spurred me on, and I went from defence to launching an attack of my own, at least enough of one to push out of the corner he was trying to back me into. I hadn't lost all touch with my surroundings, no matter what he might think, and I wasn't about to be pushed into a situation where most of my options were blocked.

I had enough of that going on outside the training room.

This time I managed to avoid three attacks to my left side, as well as two to my right and one straight over the top of my head. "Better," Qui-Gon acknowledged as he circled me, looking for new openings. I acknowledged the compliment with a nod, studying him in turn.

He attacked with a sabre thrust directly toward my chest that I shoved aside easily. Our sabres tangled in blurringly fast motion from side to side, a speed of fighting that demanded my every concentration.

"Why have you missed your last two appointments with the Healer?"

The sudden question threw me. I missed a parry and received a scorching burn to the side for it. I stepped back, taking advantage of the break in sparring to hold my side, radiating the pain away from the injury. "I've been busy catching up on my studies. They must have slipped my mind."

"You've had these appointments at the same time, three times a week for three weeks, and they're on your schedule." He raised an eyebrow in that insufferably superior way. "You forgot?"

"It's not as if I carry my schedule with me. I was caught up in other things and it just slipped my mind. It's only a couple of appointments; what difference does it make?"

"A great deal of difference if it's going to become a habit. But I'm more curious as to why they slipped your mind." He moved then, and I raised my sabre to a defensive pose before I realized he was only coming closer to talk. His eyes never left mine as he approached. "Was the lack of memory intentional?"

I stepped back, but didn't break his gaze. "Perhaps someone slipped it from my mind without my knowledge." The words surprised even me--I hadn't intended to say that.

Qui-Gon stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. If I wanted, I could have opened the link between us and find out what he was thinking, but I hadn't touched that link since the night my memories came back, and I wasn't eager to try it now. What I wanted was to leave, but I had no doubt that I'd be back on my way to the med centre before I could get very far. So I held my ground.

"You will make your next appointment," he said finally, his voice quiet, but firm. "Is that understood?"

I opened my mouth to agree. "Are you going to use the Force to make me go if I don't?" Apparently my mouth and my brain were not connecting properly. "Or better yet, will you just play around in my mind and see if you can discover some hidden reason I'm not going to the sessions?"

"Obi-Wan--"

"It's not as if I could stop you, shield from you. At least not any shield you couldn't break." A part of my mind was shocked at my behaviour, but the part that had control was in a full rage. It was like being outside myself, watching in horror as I raised my sabre and went on the attack, driving Qui-Gon back until he was trapped in a corner, my anger giving me a strength he couldn't break through. Never had my sabre ability been this solid.

I didn't stop until I had him against the wall, my arm across upper chest, my sabre at the side of his neck. "How does it feel to be helpless?" I ground out, my nose centimetres from his. I could see fear mixed with shock in his eyes, and it gave me a terrible rush of power so intense it rang in my ears. Now he knew what it was like to be at someone else's mercy. "Now what do I think would be best for you? Should I let you go? Or do you need more of a lesson?"

"Padawan--"

"Don't call me that!" The ringing had become a pain that seeped through the back of my head, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the power I held in my hands. "Padawans are supposed to be cared for and protected, not violated and manipulated!"

"Obi-Wan, listen to me--"

"No! I've listened. I've done everything you asked. But now I'm beginning to wonder why." I lost my train of thought as the pain in my head became so intense I couldn't focus. Before I knew it, Qui-Gon shoved, and I was on the floor, my lightsaber skidding across the room. A different kind of nausea rose up, one not associated with the headache, growing stronger with each second as the full impact of what I'd just done hit me. I looked up at Qui-Gon, who was advancing cautiously, his sabre lit, but down by his side. Or was it lit? It seemed to be going on and off, or fading in and out. I couldn't tell. And the pain in my head continued to grow until I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I couldn't deal with it anymore.

It was too much.

I knew he was there. Despite the pain in my head, and the embarrassment in my mind, they weren't enough to cloud Qui-Gon's presence right behind me, sitting quietly next to my bed. Perhaps the shields around the med centre intensified whatever Force presence was near enough to feel.

From the sound of his breathing I could also tell he was asleep. I turned over carefully, but even that small movement was enough to wake him. Dark blue eyes surrounded by pink blinked down at me. "You're awake."

"Obviously." My throat scratched at the words, and as I cleared it, he handed me some water. "Thank you," I said after drinking the glass in one gulp. "That's better. How long have I been here?"

"Two days." Qui-Gon sounded as if he needed the water just as bad. His voice was rough, and he rubbed his face as if trying to keep himself awake.

I felt faint stirrings of guilt that I was the reason he was so tired, but one reminder that this was his doing in the first place quelled those thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to wait until I knew you would wake."

"Well, I'm awake. Now you can go." The words were not nearly as harsh as I'd meant them, but my strength was already going quickly, and I wasn't up to being forceful. If he wanted to stay, I wouldn't have been able to stop him.

He reached toward me, his hand stopping a breath away from my face, and I held my breath. His lips twisted into a sad half-smile, and he dropped his hand. "I have only ever wanted you to be happy, love," he whispered before turning for the door. I wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind, so instead I watched silently as he walked out.

I dozed a little before Healer B'Marei came to check on me. "Ah, so we're still awake, are we? And how are we feeling?"

"I don't know about we, but I feel like I've taken one too many punches to the head."

"I'm not surprised. Maybe now you'll keep up with your appointments."

I frowned, then winced as my headache increased again. "You're saying this had something to do with a couple of missed counselling appointments?"

"In a way, yes," she answered as she finished checking my physical status. She sat down next to the bed and fixed me with a hard stare. "You stopped dealing."

"I was coping quite well, thank you."

"No, you were avoiding. And don't try to deny it. You can't avoid it any longer, Obi-Wan. You have to start consciously letting go of this, or it's going to destroy you."

"I know."

The healer shook her head. "I'm not sure you do."

"Believe me, with this headache, and...everything else...I know."

She studied me, then let out a deep breath. "We'll leave the 'everything else' for our next session. Right now, you need some rest. Shall I give you something to help you sleep?"

"I don't think I'm going to need it. Though something for the headache would be welcome."

"I'll send some medicine in."

"Thank you."

She paused at the door. "You know, Qui-Gon sat in that chair for two days waiting for you to wake up. He barely slept."

"Guilt is a great motivator for insomnia."

"Guilt and love. I wish someone cared that much about me." Before I could ask her to leave she was gone, leaving me to forget about what she said and sleep.

Despite Healer B'Marei's insistence about my need to let things go, she left me alone for a day. My next visitor other than the med techs was Master Yoda. After a day of sleeping I was already feeling much better, and as a result, ready to get out of the med centre as soon as possible. Irritated is not a good mood to be in when Master Yoda comes to visit.

"Feeling better, are you?"

"Yes, Master, thank you."

He crossed the room slowly, shuffling along until he reached my bed. "Good, this is. News, I have, regarding your request to change masters."

I sat up rather faster than I should have, only to end up lying back down with a headache. Luckily it was just a pale shadow of the pain from the day before. "What news?" The Council certainly has interesting timing.

"Fight your request, Qui-Gon will not. The choice is yours, he told us."

"So I can have a new master?"

"Hmph. On the Council, Qui-Gon is not. Final decision lies with us."

I closed my eyes. "So the answer will still be no?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that anymore.

"Undecided, the matter is. Time to think, you require, hmm?"

"That would be welcome, yes." I opened my eyes again to find him smiling at me, the first smile I'd seen from him since this started. "Will Qui-Gon still be watching over me until the decision is made?"

"No. Gone on a mission, he has. Time, you have, to think without his interference."

"A mission? With who?"

Yoda's ears lifted, a sure sign he was more pleased than I about the note of concern evident in my voice. "Solo mission, it is."

"You sent him on a solo mission with no sleep and a distraction such as this? With all due respect, Master Yoda--"

"Concerned for him now, are you? No concern have you shown these past weeks."

"But--"

The Jedi Master held up one small hand. "Enough. You wished for his absence to think without pressure, did you not? Have what you wished, you do."

His absence from my person, yes, but I never wished to send him into danger. What if something happened? "He hasn't slept," I repeated. "And he's distracted...I would think that would jeopardize his whole mission."

"Far worse missions has Qui-Gon accomplished, and without assistance. Think you we stop being Jedi for personal problems?"

For the first time I was filled with shame, not for what happened in the alley, but for what I'd allowed it to do to my commitment to the Jedi. "Master Yoda--"

"Referring to you, I was not. Time, you need, Obi-Wan. As would any of us after such an event. Time, you will have, before you will be asked for your decision. Think clearly, you must."

I nodded. "How long will he be gone?"

"A few weeks, I think." Yoda stepped back from the bed. "Go, I must, so you may rest."

"Master...the last time Qui-Gon and I spoke, it was...strained. Is it possible to reach him? I would like to at least clear some things before he goes into this mission."

"Sorry, I am, but reach him, you cannot." For a moment, I thought I saw pity in the old master's eyes, but it was gone in a flash, if indeed it was really there. "Rest, Obi-Wan. See him again, you will."

"Thank you." If Master Yoda said I would see Qui-Gon again, then I would. Until then, I would have time to think.

It was only as I was drifting off to sleep that I realized he had not actually said what state Qui-Gon would be in when I saw him again. I only hoped it would be alive and well.

I was sitting up in the bed when Healer B'Marei walked in later that evening. She took the tray that held the remnants of my dinner for me and sat down. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Physically, or otherwise?" She just shrugged, so I looked down at the blanket covering my legs, picking at little pieces of lint. "Qui-Gon went off on a mission."

"I heard. Isn't that what you wanted, for him to go away?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted...."

She sighed. "Don't we all. And now?"

"Now I'm not sure of anything. I'm so angry, but I don't even know who I'm angry at anymore."

"You need to stop letting your emotions do your thinking for you."

I let out a harsh laugh that ended in more of a sob. "How do I do that? How do I get rid of all this anger?"

"If you're looking for some magic key, there isn't one. You just have to let it go."

"Let it go?" I stared at her. "Just like that? How am I supposed to do that?"

"You make up your mind to do it. You hold the power, Obi-Wan, not the anger. An emotion only has as much power as you feed it."

There was sound logic behind her words, but I'd never found logic to be overly helpful when dealing with emotions. "So what, I say, 'Enough, I'm not angry anymore,' and just like that, I'm cured?"

"Not exactly. It takes time. But each time you feel the emotions, calm yourself. Remember that you are in control. And each time, the emotions will get weaker, and it will become easier to release them."

"And what about trust? Will I ever be able to trust Qui-Gon again?"

"That's up to you. It would be a shame to give up a lifetime of trust for one mistake. Especially one made with the best of intentions."

"The road to the dark side is lined with good intentions."

"So is the road to knighthood."

I sighed, no closer to an answer than I had been before, but with a great deal more to think about. "I need some time to think."

"Fine." She rose, then patted me on the shoulder with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Ask yourself what you would have done in his place, Obi-Wan."

I nodded and mumbled my thanks as she left, then turned my mind to that very question. What would I have done, if I'd been watching Qui-Gon suffer through something and I thought I had a way to take away all his pain? Taking the logic out of the equation and dealing solely on emotion.

I closed my eyes and quickly fell into a light meditation. The bands of colour swirled around me again, the fiery red close at hand, but the black attached to it thinner and paler than before. I reached for the red, and it pulled away from the black one with little effort on my part. All the love I'd felt for Qui-Gon washed through me, still there, waiting for me to accept it again. More than I was ready to handle yet, but as I let go of the band, some of it stayed behind, enough to help without overwhelming me.

For all my attempts to get him to listen to the Council, at heart Qui-Gon Jinn and I are very much alike. I can't honestly say I would stand by and watch him suffer, knowing only that I could take the painful memories away and not truly knowing what the repercussions could be. To fault him for something I myself might very well do made no sense.

Logic never dictated emotions. But sometimes it could be used to reason with them.

"How do you feel?"

"You mean besides sick of that question?"

Healer B'marei smiled. "Besides that, yes."

"I'm not sure," I answered after a moment. "He's been gone for a month. He should have been back by now."

"You're worried about your master. That's normal."

I picked at a frayed edge on my tunic, knowing my silence would say more than any words I could put together. "That's part of it."

"You're worried about the man you love."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not the one who thought you hated Qui-Gon," she responded gently. "You're not so sure about that anymore?"

My eyes fixed on some spot on the wall, just over the healer's right shoulder. "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"Anything? Certainly there must be something you're sure of."

"Well...I'm sure that I'm worried about him."

She laughed. "It's a start. Have you thought about opening up the bond between the two of you? There's a chance you could get a sense of his well-being."

"Thought about it, yes. As to whether I'm ready to try that...I'm not sure," I finished with a slight smile.

"Because you don't trust him?" She moved deliberately into my line of sight. "Or because you're afraid something might be wrong."

"Both? Neither? I'm..."

"Not sure?" she finished for me. I nodded, still smiling. "Maybe you should try it and see what happens."

I took a deep breath. It had been a month. Knowing something would be a relief in a way. "Very well." I closed my eyes and focused on a part of my mind that had lain in darkness for months. Very carefully, I threaded my way through the area and found the block I'd placed there to shut him out. With one more deep breath, I opened the link...and found myself doubled over, holding my head.

"Obi-Wan!" The healer's voice sounded far away, but I could feel her hands on my shoulders, so she had to be near. "Can you close the link again?"

"No," I ground out. "Wait." It wasn't my pain. My training took over, and I felt the pain receding to a dull ache as my mind shifted around to accommodate the link at a more normal distribution. Once I could open my eyes without feeling ill, I looked up at the healer.

"Qui-Gon's in trouble."

She blinked. "You mean that wasn't you?"

"No. He's in pain. I believe he's hurt."

"You have to tell the Council."

By the time she'd finished the sentence, I was already out the door.

I was almost to the Council chambers when I saw Master Yoda in the hall. "Master Yoda," I said, giving him a quick half bow. "Qui-Gon is in danger. I would like to request permission to go after him."

"No need. Heard from him, we have. He will be here soon."

"How soon?"

"Soon enough. Called himself, he did. Serious the injury must not be."

Yoda and I both knew Qui-Gon well enough to know that wasn't necessarily true. "He was in a great deal of pain."

"Know this, I do. Come with me."

The small master moved past me, so I turned to follow, quickly realizing we were heading for the landing platforms. "He is about to land?"

There was no answer from Yoda, so I reached out across the still-open bond and sensed Qui-Gon's presence close by. Still alive. And landing any moment.

Not for the first time, I wished Master Yoda had much longer legs.

Once we arrived at the platform, the wait was not long, but it seemed an eternity. Finally, the single person craft carrying my master landed. I hurried forth without waiting to see if Master Yoda joined me. The ramp lowered, and my Master came stumbling out, his arm across his stomach. We met each other at the bottom of the ramp. "Obi-Wan...." He blinked, as if he wasn't sure I was really there. "I felt...I thought...." Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes closed, and he swayed, saved from hitting the ground only by my quick reflexes.

I felt a greater kinship with my master as I sat by his bed than I ever had before. As I watched his chest rise and fall, the totally involuntary motion the only sign he was still alive, I understood a little of what it must have been like all those times I'd been injured. Especially after the incident in the alley.

After the rape. If I couldn't even call it by its proper name, I'd never fully get past it. It was unlike any feeling I'd known, sitting here, watching, unable to do anything to influence the outcome, knowing that whatever happened to him happened to me too. Knowing just how much pain he'd been in, before he'd lost consciousness.

I'd have done anything to stop him from feeling that pain.

He'd lost weight since everything had gone wrong, and there were several fine lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. All the love I'd locked away hit me full force, settling in to a more comfortable and less overwhelming place inside me when it realized it wasn't being fought. How could I voluntarily live the rest of my life without this man?

I didn't harbour any illusions that everything would be perfect when he woke up. There was still trust to build back--on both sides. I'm certain my defection hurt him, even if he felt responsible, and it would be a while before either of us would stop expecting to be hurt by the other. But we could get past it. And in the meantime, we were still Master and Apprentice.

I held my breath as the movement of his chest changed, but then his eyes opened, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He blinked up at me as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "Obi-Wan?"

"Shhh. You sound horrible."

"Feel horrible." He reached for the glass on the table next to my chair, but I put his hand back on the bed and brought the glass to his lips myself. "Thank you," he said as I placed the tumbler back on the table.

"You're welcome." So polite, both of us, when there was so many personal things that needed to be said.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I didn't know if you would be here."

"Where else would I be?"

"I'd hoped...but I hadn't counted on it. I hurt you--"

I placed my hand over his lips. "Shhh. We'll talk about it later. First you have to heal."

"As do you."

"I'm mostly healed," I said with a smile. "Don't worry about me. Worry about getting well."

He coughed, and his face contorted in pain. "Should I get the healer?" I asked, already out of my chair.

"No." He reached for my hand, then seemed to think better of it and put his arm back down on the bed.

Without thinking, I covered his hand with mine as I sat back down. Neither of us was in a position to handle a long conversation. But I could give him hope. "I'm moving back into my old room," I said, smiling at the look on his face as he digested that information. "Someone has to keep an eye on you, or you'll be lifting the furniture in a few days."

"Thank you."

Again a polite response, but I could see the unasked question in his eyes, and feel his apprehension through our bond. "I'm withdrawing my request for another master," I said quietly, my thumb sliding back and forth across his hand. "I'd rather stick with you, through my training, and...whatever else comes along the way."

He smiled, and I could feel most of his tension drain away. "I am glad to hear it."

Before I could say more, the healer arrived. "He's awake, then? Good. I'm afraid you'll have to wait outside, Kenobi."

Qui-Gon moved as if to protest, but I stopped him. "I'll be right outside."

"And you'll come back when she's gone?"

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere."

The look of peace he wore at that assurance was reward enough for whatever came of my decision. We could make it through anything. The Force had given me strength over fear. And it had given me him.

Who am I to question the ways of the Force?

---
END