Journey of the Whills: Circle Shift, Part I
by Flamethrower
Title: (Re-Entry) Journey of the Whills: Circle Shift, Part I
Author: Flamethrower
Archive: MA archive, my Archive, and AO3
Category: Q/O, AU
Summary: The thing about circles is that they are not inert objects; it's not in their nature.
Warnings: Not today. I was very nice to all my characters. For once.
Spoilers: This is a continuation of the Re-Entry series; if you're new to the story, I'd suggest you start at the beginning with the links below. This gets complicated. *Really* complicated.
Feedback: Is golden and treasured.
Thanks: Merry Amelie, mrs_stanley, and writestufflee, who are the finest damn betas a hack writer could ask for. Once again, they help whip my ramblings into shape. As usual.
Standard, well-abused Disclaimer:
"Rob? That's a naughty word, we never rob! We just... sort of borrow."
"Borrow? Boy, are we in debt!"
Series links:
Re-Entry (Complete)
&
Journey of the Whills:
Part 0: Prologue
Part 1: Beginning Anew
Part 2: Circle Shift, Part I
Part 3: Circle Shift, Part II (in beta)
Part 4: Circle Shift, Part III (in beta)
And if you want to avoid AO3, the wonderfully solid Master-Apprentice archive still has everything. (I do mean everything -- watch the summaries to avoid stumbling into other alternate universes!)
Qui-Gon Jinn watched the transport land, raising his robed arm before his face when the repulsorlifts kicked up more dust than he expected. Since the old creche had come down during the bombing last year, there was a great deal of particle debris floating around the Temple; it had been bad when the Naboo group had left, but didn't seem much improved, now. Droids were still trying to clean it up-several of the low-profile sweeper droids scuttled out onto the platform as he watched, trying to capture what they could before the wind took it again.
"Not too bad," Plo Koon noted in his gravelly voice, ignoring the dust via the safety of the fitted mask that allowed him to breathe in oxygen environments. "When construction began on the new creche, it was the worst. A ship would come in for a landing, and everyone would have to stay aboard for half an hour, waiting for the blasted dirt to settle."
"I'm glad I missed that," Qui-Gon said, and then sneezed for good measure.
Plo laughed at him. "If only the rest of the galaxy knew your weakness, Jinn. All they'd need to do is set up negotiation tables in the dustiest place they could find, and it would be your downfall."
"Get stuffed," Qui-Gon snapped back, rubbing his streaming eyes with his fingers. He'd gotten too used to Kaazcint's clear air. At this rate he'd be visiting the Healers for another round of histamine blockers, and he hadn't needed the damn things in years.
"Sadly, there are none currently willing to volunteer for such pleasures," Plo said, laying a dramatic hand over his breast. "Why did you want me to meet Tahl and Micah with you, anyway? You could have suffered out here alone, and let no one else be the wiser."
"If I'd met their transport alone, Micah would never disembark, certain I was here to kill him," Qui-Gon replied, his attention caught by the hiss of the ship's gangplank being lowered, the pilot now finished with post-flight.
"Hah!" Plo barked out a laugh. Then he paused. "Are you here to kill him, Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon merely smiled, which made the Kel Dor Master laugh harder.
Most of the passengers had disembarked by the time Tahl sensed them in the crowd and wandered over, a warm smile on her face. "Hello, Qui-Gon," she said, lifting both arms to allow him to step into place for the hug she was offering. That alone was an intriguing process; pregnant Noori showed early and gave birth to enormous babies, as humanoids went. At three months, Tahl was already quite large.
And the baby was active. During an embrace that lasted less than ten seconds, Qui-Gon was kicked soundly three different times.
"He likes you," Tahl confided, grinning. "If he doesn't care for you, he won't move at all. We had to change Healers last month when the baby decided he hated Zarcov, and wouldn't budge an inch for him."
"Welcome home, Master Tahl," Plo greeted her next, earning himself a punch to the shoulder from his sister Padawan. "Ow! Your mate has my sympathies, T, if you can still hit like that. Speaking of mates, you seem to be missing someone."
"Micah's hiding on board, and wants written amnesty before he'll come near you," Tahl told Qui-Gon, patently amused.
"And you're not worried?" he asked.
"Qui-Gon, if you were angry, you wouldn't be here. How he's not learned that lesson in all these years, I've no blasted idea," Tahl said with a derisive snort.
He found himself grinning. "Well, let's go then."
"Oh?" Tahl smiled in response, allowing Qui-Gon to take her left arm and lead her into the Temple proper. Plo Koon flanked her on the right, chortling almost non-stop into his mask.
"He'll come out when he's hungry," Qui-Gon said smoothly, mentally counting down in his mind...
A mock-sniff and pathetic whine came through the old pair-bond eight seconds later. You don't love me anymore?
That did it; Tahl's composure broke, and she clutched her stomach with one hand while she laughed.
I can't quite recall saying that I ever did, Qui-Gon replied, while Plo tilted his head curiously and Tahl tried, between giggles, to explain to him what was going on.
That's it! Qui-Gon Jinn, I want a divorce! Micah retorted.
A good thing, too, given that your wife is going to wind up laughing herself into labor, Qui-Gon replied, taking note of Tahl's red face.
What!?
Qui-Gon couldn't have gotten Micah to join them faster if explosives had been involved. Micah was present in moments, limping badly from using Force-enhanced speed. "What is-oh, she's fine," Micah said, sounding aggrieved as he took in his flush-faced, dancing-eyed spouse. "Noorians are just giggling lunatics while pregnant."
"And you're an overly concerned father-to-be," Tahl pointed out, smiling. "Who shall refrain from calling me a lunatic if he wants to live to see his son born."
"Ah, yes. Speaking of threatening Master Giett with bodily harm," Qui-Gon began, turning an appropriately cool gaze upon one of his oldest friends.
Micah wilted. "Er... 'lo, Qui-Gon. Do you like the new place?"
Qui-Gon stepped forward until he was nose-to-nose with Micah, who held remarkably still. "Micah Giett?"
"Yes?" Micah asked, starting to smile. The blasted fiend knew he was safe. Player.
"You live by virtue of a tub," Qui-Gon said, which set all three of his companions off laughing again.
"Dammit, Master Yoda, I said no," Obi-Wan growled, getting up from his knees to go glare out the window, if only so he wasn't glowering down at the ancient, meddling troll that had come to visit him. Two days downtime from intergalactic conflict had sounded nice, at first. If Obi-Wan had known that it would involve manipulation from an ancient Master, he would have turned it down. Jango Fett's cloned troops were easier to spend time with, even if it meant sitting in the mud under a barrage of gunfire.
"A Padawan, you should take," Yoda insisted, hobbling over before leaning heavily on his gimer stick. Sometimes Yoda played up his age with the old staff, but right then, Obi-Wan knew that none of it was faked. The damned war was taking its toll on all of them. Hadn't he awoken that morning, and realized he didn't recognize his own face in the mirror?
"Considering the trial that Anakin's training was, I do believe the Council granted me an exemption until I felt ready to do the job a second time," Obi-Wan said, resisting the urge to sigh. And it would be a Padawan of my choosing, he thought with a touch of bitterness. None of that was directed at Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, but he felt it, nonetheless.
"True, this is," Yoda admitted. "However, circumstances, never this dire did we foresee them, Obi-Wan," the Master said, shocking Obi-Wan when no title was applied to his name. Yoda spoke to people in such a way rarely.
It was a sign that the tiny being considered them friends.
Yoda turned pensive eyes out to the skyline that Obi-Wan had chosen to stare at. "Needed you are, my friend," he murmured.
Obi-Wan did sigh, then. Duty. Damn Yoda for playing that card, anyway. He knew it was part of being Jedi, to take one of the young Initiates and guide him or her along the path to Knighthood. But in that he was much like Qui-Gon Jinn; he didn't yet feel like he had the strength of heart to give a youngling everything he or she needed, and that wouldn't be fair to whatever Padawan the Council tried to foist upon him. Not that it would matter to Yoda. The old Master was a firm believer in the healing power of children. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, had found that two years of intense conflict had ground his beliefs down to "tea" and "sleep."
"Do you have someone in mind?"
Yoda frowned, shaking his head. "No," he said, surprising Obi-Wan yet again. "No Padawans have I sent, not since Padawan Tano."
How curious. "Then why ask me now?"
Yoda smiled, though it was a tired, aching expression, and echoed the exhaustion in the Master's pale green eyes. "Tell us, the Force will, when time it is right. Then, Padawan you will take, hmm?"
Obi-Wan was startled out of his memories when the door to their new quarters opened on a wave of laughter. He'd been thinking about that long-ago conversation a lot since Jeila Vin had shoved her way into his life, and was pleased to be distracted.
He smiled as Micah entered, hand-in-hand with his pregnant lifemate. Qui-Gon palmed the door closed behind them, and the warm smile on his lips was reserved just for Obi-Wan.
"You brought home more strays?" Obi-Wan couldn't resist asking, the perfect blend of exasperation and teasing in his voice.
"They followed me here," Qui-Gon replied, just as lightly. "What else was I to do?"
"Hello, Tahl," Obi-Wan said, stepping into the hug that the older woman offered. "And hello, little one," he greeted, sensing the blatantly Force-sensitive boy growing in his mother's womb. "Does he have a name yet?"
"Yes," Tahl grumbled, scowling. "Mister Kicky-Keeps-Mummy-Up-At-Night-With-Heartburn Giett."
"We're working on a shorter version," Micah confided, grinning and clasping Obi-Wan's arm before drawing him into a fierce embrace. "I hear you like the new digs, Kid."
"The tub is nice, yes," Obi-Wan replied, smiling. "You seem to be missing a companion, Qui. What happened to Master Plo?"
"Called away on Council business," Qui-Gon said from the kitchen, making tea for all four of them. "He said something about soothing ruffled feathers."
"Ah," Obi-Wan said blandly, handing Tahl a pillow to put behind her back as she settled onto the couch. Micah perched on the couch's arm, the extra height leaving him more comfortable there because of the ever-present brace on his leg.
Qui-Gon came out with two mugs, giving Obi-Wan a curious look. "You didn't have something to do with that, did you? It was a routine set of questions regarding Jeila. It can't have gone that badly."
"That might have been me, yes," he admitted, thumping himself down in the chair opposite the couch, breathing out a long sigh.
"Did you yell at them, too, love?" Qui-Gon asked, shaking his head as he gave Tahl and Micah each a mug of steaming red tea. "Two Council groups in two days-you'll break my old record yet."
"I didn't yell, no," Obi-Wan said, wondering if he really was an absolute glutton for punishment. Given his track record, it would seem so. "Yarael Poof has resigned his seat."
Tahl, Micah, and Qui-Gon froze in place, turning their heads to give him near-identical stares of disbelief. "What-what in the blasted Force happened?" Micah asked, nonplussed. "The man held one of the five permanent seats, and considering how long his ass has been attached to it, I didn't think he would ever resign!"
"I believe he made the decision when I told Master Rancisis to kindly take a nice, long stroll off of a very short landing platform," Obi-Wan admitted.
Tahl burst out laughing. Qui-Gon gave him a measuring look. "Your diplomatic skills do not seem to have returned to Coruscant with you, Padawan."
Obi-Wan flushed; Qui-Gon had called him that only a handful of times since Yinchorr, usually because he was about to do, or had done, something ill-advised. "In my defense, it was in response to one of the more outrageous statements I've ever heard a Jedi Master say."
"Back up. Let's try to tell this story in order. What's this about Jeila? Is this the same Jeila Vin?" Tahl asked, turning her sightless eyes upon him and pinning him with eerie accuracy.
Obi-Wan accepted the warm mug from Qui-Gon, who seemed inclined to listen before commenting further. He was grateful, since there were things that just weren't given vent to when standing before the High Council, whether it was three of them or all of them. "The same Jeila, yes," he said, detailing his visit to the creche yesterday evening, and the Force-driven training bond that had resulted between himself and the three-year-old girl.
"So today you saw the Council's standard response to those who have been trying to buck the system," Micah said thoughtfully. At Obi-Wan's curious look, he nodded. "Ever since the Sandrunner twins were apprenticed to Master Tratacek, other Masters and Knights have stepped forward, wanting to apprentice pairs or trios instead of a single student. They've referenced history, and in half of the proposed Master-student pairings, the Force itself is supporting the choices. Some groups have Force-driven bonds already, like you and Jeila."
"None of them have been approved except Tratacek, and so far the Council is using the excuse that the clan nature of their species, and the mental bond between the Sandrunner twins, creates a special exception. No, not everyone on the Council is opposed," Tahl continued, as if sensing Obi-Wan's renewed stir of temper. "The problem is, a unanimous vote is needed to override a part of the Code that's almost one thousand years old, and the final four are not changing their minds."
"Oppo Rancisis, Depa Billaba, Eeth Koth, and Saesee Tiin," Obi-Wan ground out.
"Depa?" Qui-Gon repeated, incredulous. "And not Yarael?" He disappeared into the kitchen long enough to drag out one of the kitchen chairs to sit in. Obi-Wan made a mental note: Find more furniture.
"Strangely enough, no," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. It was nice to be right, sometimes; the Quermian really was contrary and cantankerous because he wanted to be. Yarael Poof had spent a self-admitted number of delightful years playing the role of Sith's advocate for the Council. "And Depa's not as flexible as one might think. She wouldn't have Fallen on Haruun Kal, otherwise," he said, thinking about the Council seat that had suddenly become his responsibility, once upon a time.
He still didn't want it back.
"Depa may change her mind, considering that Mace's support of the issue has become far more vocal, of late." Tahl sipped at her tea. "But Eeth Koth was a surprise, as was Saesee."
"And Master Rancisis, much like Yoda, prefers his own counsel a great deal of the time," Qui-Gon said. "When he takes a liking to a particular line of thought, you'd have better luck changing Coruscant's orbit than getting him to reconsider his opinion."
"For now, the matter is just being argued about, as all of the children are under the age of twelve," Micah went on, nodding his agreement of Qui-Gon's assessment of the other Master's character. "In your case, it's also quite likely that Anakin will be a Knight before Jeila's apprenticeship with you begins. But the time will come soon when the issue will be forced, and the Order is going to be in sorry shape by then if we can't get past this way of thinking."
"Has it been this way for so long, though?" Obi-Wan asked, putting down his tea and running his hands through his hair, aggravated. "And I quote, 'The will of Force is secondary to what is best for the Jedi Order.' I stood there and heard those words, and still don't believe Master Rancisis said them."
Micah nodded again, rueful. "That's what I came up against, time and time again, when I was on the Council. The Force's messages were set against the Code, and the Code always came first."
"I do believe we had much the same conversation with the Council two years ago, when I asked a similar question regarding our Initiates' training," Qui-Gon said quietly, gazing into his mug. "There were no satisfactory answers given, and I'm not surprised that there are none, now."
"But it's wrong, Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan burst out, just barely resisting the urge to get up and pace the room. Intellectually, he had known that these were problems he would face, but being directly confronted with it was more trying, more frustrating, than he'd ever suspected. "How can any Jedi believe that the Force is not the determining factor for teaching a student, or for leading a Temple full of Jedi? It's blatant hypocrisy!"
"And you said as much, I imagine," Qui-Gon surmised with a wry smile. Diplomatic slip forgiven.
"You must have missed out on some fun Council sessions during your particular tenure," Micah commented. "Especially if you never got to confront this particular mindset before."
"It was there, but by then it was... very much a tertiary concern," Obi-Wan said, giving up and throwing himself out of his chair to pace, anyway. "I was busy much of the time far from Coruscant. Hell, for the most part, only one or two members of the Council would be here, with the rest of us scattered across the galaxy. There wasn't really an opportunity to argue policy."
Qui-Gon was watching Obi-Wan, a suspicious look in his eyes. "Yarael named you his successor, didn't he?"
Obi-Wan groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Yes."
Micah let out a whoop of laughter. "Oh, so he won't take my Council seat, but he'll take the permanent one, huh?"
"That's not helping!" Obi-Wan retorted, dropping his hands to glare at the other Master. "I didn't want it. I still don't want it!"
"And yet, you didn't say no, either," Tahl guessed. "Why not?"
Obi-Wan went back to his chair, slumping down into it. "When he announced his resignation, Yarael stood up and said that the Council needed my experience more than it needed his. And as much as I truly hate admitting it... he's right. Adi, Mace, and Master Yoda might have seen my memories, but that's not going to be enough when it comes to convincing the rest of the Council that the Order is heading down a self-destructive path. I looked up the numbers; in only the last ten years, we've lost one thousand from our roster, and we're not bringing in new Jedi to counter the loss. If that continues, we'll be extinct inside a century."
"Damn," Qui-Gon breathed. "I knew it was bad. I mentioned our dwindling numbers to them, myself. But I hadn't realized our ranks had fallen so sharply, so fast."
Tahl smiled. "We just need to get the pair of you onto the Council, and then we'll have far less to worry about."
"Hell no!" Qui-Gon bellowed, at the same moment that Micah said, "Not possible." Micah and Qui-Gon grinned at each other before Micah explained. "No working or mated pairs can sit on the High Council. There's a very real concern about conflict of interest, one the Order currently can't afford."
"Sith, I forgot about that rule-oh," Obi-Wan said, eyes widening as the realization struck him. "That's why. That's why Mace won't court Adi."
"He doesn't want to lose her voice on the Council. As much as he loves her, he knows she's needed there, more," Micah confirmed. "Since he's Head of the Order, Adi would insist that she be the one to resign, not Mace. The rule isn't common knowledge, and I don't even think Adi herself has realized the true reason she can't gain his favor publicly."
"Well, that's depressing," Obi-Wan muttered, then almost jumped out of his skin when the commlink he'd unthinkingly shoved into his trouser pocket chirped, signaling an incoming message. He swore and dug it out, holding it up to view the text that had been left in lieu of voice. "They're voting already?"
"You're screwed," Micah gloated, chuckling. "Even if Masters Koth, Billaba, Tiin, and Rancisis don't want to deal with you as a co-Councilor, they'd be foolish to vote against you right now."
"Huh? Why?" Obi-Wan asked, giving Micah a bewildered look.
"Because you're famous, silly git," Tahl said, and grinned when he snorted in disbelief. "Obi-Wan, you and Qui-Gon fought a Sith Apprentice and won. Then, while still recovering from a near-fatal wound, you crawled out of bed and took on the Master. By yourself. Forget what the news feeds say about the matter-to the Jedi Order, you're a hero."
"I'm an idiot," Obi-Wan argued, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks that he couldn't stop. "That was foolishness, not heroics!"
"At the time, we didn't know that," Qui-Gon told him, but he was smiling, and his eyes were dancing with repressed, playful mirth. "You've made yourself a powerful figure in the Temple machine, love. Now you get to suffer the consequences."
"Fuck," Obi-Wan grumbled, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. The politics were already in full swing. He'd never enjoyed that aspect of Temple life, and throwing himself back into it was not something he'd ever envisioned. "Fine. But we need to get out of this Temple as soon as possible, before anything else gets the drop on us. At this rate we'll be buried in work before the week is out."
Micah coughed, and when he spoke again his discomfort was practically tangible. "We do have news of our own. It's not joyous, but it's not related to Council policy..."
"Have at it, Mic," Qui-Gon said, lips quirking in another smile. "Might as well get all of it out of the way at once."
"We weren't gone from Coruscant out of fear of being slain, however justified the feeling might have been." Micah winked at his long-time friend, who merely rolled his eyes.
"Jenna Zan Arbor escaped from the Trillust penal colony," Tahl said.
For a moment there was only silence. "Did she," Qui-Gon uttered at last, his voice like ice.
"She's early," Obi-Wan noted, reaching through the Lifebond to soothe his mate. Obi-Wan had reasons to loathe Zan Arbor. Qui-Gon had reasons to wish her wiped from existence. "Zan Arbor wasn't due to escape for at least five more years."
"How?" Qui-Gon bit out, putting down his mug on the side table and folding his hands in his lap.
"Boldly. The bitch walked out the front door," Micah said, scowling. "Her old friend, Uta S'orn, paid off the warden. Zan Arbor's exit from the facility was listed in the records as a successful escape attempt, and it took Tahl and myself less than six hours to prove otherwise. The warden is currently in custody while other successful escapes are investigated, in case it's not the only bribe he accepted."
"And Zan Arbor?" Obi-Wan wanted to know. He'd hunted that woman down five separate times. And each time, Zan Arbor had managed to weasel her way out of capture or captivity.
"Not your concern," Tahl told him, her eyes almost blazing with anger. She also had been part of the team of Jedi that had helped Obi-Wan rescue Qui-Gon from Zan Arbor. She had no love for the illicit geneticist, either. "You both have enough to worry about, and Zan Arbor is being actively hunted by several pairs."
Obi-Wan nodded sharply and held his tongue, much as he wanted to protest. That explained Quinlan's early return to the Temple. Padmé Amidala had a new Jedi team assigned to her for her protection, but unlike Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura, the new Jedi would remain in the shadows, unknown to the Queen and court of Naboo.
Zan Arbor would likely prove to be Quinlan's most intriguing hunt yet. Obi-Wan expected that whichever Council member handled the matter would be reading field reports full of foul language. Still, the entire idea of Zan Arbor's early escape made him nervous; she was the vengeful sort, and he doubted that six years were enough for her to forgive and forget.
I don't think six centuries would be enough for that woman, Qui-Gon growled.
"How did S'orn get out of prison, anyway?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to give them both something else to focus on. "She was serving a life sentence in Kelsink." Not the harsh place that Trillust was, a courtesy the woman had been granted after what had happened to S'orn's child. It was the only bit of leniency the former Senator had been shown by the courts. "Neither of them should be in a position to create trouble."
"And yet, they are." Micah shrugged. "I have no idea, and neither does anyone else. There isn't even a record of Uta S'orn's time in the Kelsink prison. Her file was wiped clean."
"Granta, perhaps?" Qui-Gon speculated. "He did employ her services in the past. Future. Whenever," he said, sighing, and Obi-Wan gave him a helpless look. Almost six years since Taro Tre, and trying to file the events of his life in order was still more theory than measurement.
"Maybe," Tahl acknowledged. "But there are several Jedi watching him, as well. So far, Granta Omega has committed no crime other than being a young, arrogant twit among Telos's aristocracy."
"Palpatine," Obi-Wan said, and a bone-numbing chill flooded his limbs. "He knows who they are. More importantly, he knows for certain that Zan Arbor and Uta S'orn consider myself and Qui-Gon to be enemies."
"Which would mean he may not be leveling the playing field so much as flooding it." Micah grimaced. "Sounds like he's ready to start a war."
"Quite," Qui-Gon said brusquely, meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. "That's exactly what he's trying to do."
"I'll mention it to MonMassa. That woman is pulling on my ear anytime I'm not busy with baby-things or Padawan-coaching," Micah said, stretching his arms. "Speaking of which, we'll be late to see our new Healer if we don't go now."
"You'll have plenty of experience when it's your son pulling your ear, then," Qui-Gon said, as all three of them stood, ready to help Tahl.
The Noorian glared up at them through narrowed eyes. "I am pregnant, not crippled. Save the damn chivalry for when I'll really need it."
"Next week?" Micah suggested innocently, and winced when one of the couch pillows flew up and smacked him hard in the groin. "I love you, too," he squeaked out, still offering his hand to his wife.
"Then I've trained you well," Tahl retorted, but she was smiling again.
The moment Qui-Gon had seen their guests to the door, Obi-Wan reclaimed the armchair, a rueful expression on his face. "Whatever you're going to say, say it. I know you've been holding your tongue."
"Have I?" Qui-Gon asked, returning mugs to the kitchen. In truth, he did have something in mind, but doubted it was what Obi-Wan expected. His mate was wound tight, tension near-visible in his frame, and he hadn't even been formally accepted to the Council yet.
That would have to be derailed, before bad habits had a chance to re-seat themselves. Qui-Gon had been shown what the stress of that particular responsibility had once done to Obi-Wan, and didn't wish to see it repeated.
"You have a telling expression," Obi-Wan said, as Qui-Gon returned to the main room. Sure enough, there was a furrow on Obi-Wan's brow, and no doubt a million thoughts churning in that elegant mind.
Qui-Gon knelt, gracefully seating himself between Obi-Wan's legs, his arms resting on Obi-Wan's thighs. "As do you," he said, reaching up to poke the furrow with his index finger.
Obi-Wan jerked his head back, but smiled to acknowledge the point. "All right, so I have."
Qui-Gon tilted his head, amused. Obi-Wan's vocal patterns kept shifting, of late; right now he sounded like the much older man he, in truth, really was. His age, experience, knowledge-those things were always in his eyes now, never hidden. That combined with the stress lines at the corners of his eyes, and the sometimes hard set to his mouth-no one mistook Qui-Gon's mate for a youth. Not anymore.
"What?" Obi-Wan asked, when he must have felt that the staring had gone on too long.
"I was just thinking how very proud of you I am," Qui-Gon murmured.
Obi-Wan's cheeks flamed. "Shut up," he grumbled, though he was fighting a smile, as well.
"Speak up, shut up..." Qui-Gon shook his head. "You'll have to make up your mind. Which is it?"
"Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan bit his lip, flustered, something he rarely allowed anyone else to see.
Of course, it might have had something to do with the intentional position of Qui-Gon's hands, his fingertips resting on rucked fabric just shy of the other man's groin. "Two words, then."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "It takes three words to say 'You're an idiot.'"
Qui-Gon smiled. "Would I say such a thing?"
"No. You tend to be... far more subtle," Obi-Wan replied, the big muscles in his thighs twitching when Qui-Gon lifted his fingers, putting them back down in the same position. "What words, then?" Obi-Wan asked, heat rising from his skin in a radiant wave.
"Blow job?" Qui-Gon suggested, as if the words had only just occurred to him.
"Oh. Those two words," Obi-Wan said, his voice hitching. "Rather nice, those two words, especially when put together."
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, his hands steadily unfastening the trousers that were blocking his way. "Shut up, Ben."
"Shuttin' up," Obi-Wan complied, then promptly bit his lip again when Qui-Gon lowered his head, blowing a breath of air against the lower half of the fastenings, pulling a shocked squeak from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon was starting to suspect Obi-Wan preferred trousers over leggings of late because of how much fun it could be to take them off.
And, well. It was fun.
Qui-Gon took his time undoing the line of buttons, the fastenings similar to the leather pants from their first time. Obi-Wan's cock was straining to meet him; the man had neglected smallclothes.
"Naughty man. Did you go see the Council dressed like this?" he teased.
"Oh, fuck no!" Obi-Wan shook his head in fierce denial. "Changed when I got back."
"That does remind me, though. There seems to be a lack of leather in our lives," Qui-Gon said, glancing up, letting his fingers linger over the final button. At this point it had to be uncomfortable, but Obi-Wan liked their teasing and by-play.
"Uh... leather? Oh! Right!" Obi-Wan stammered, his face already flushed. "Need to find another pair. Gained enough height over the past year that they don't fit. Too short. Suspect clean farm air and lots of sex might have influenced the matter of my height, since I'm actually a few centimeters taller than I recall."
"Interesting theory," Qui-Gon said mildly, running his fingertips down the thick vein, silk and steel beneath his fingers. Obi-Wan swore at him in some very colorful trade language with his hands clenched, white-knuckled, on the arms of the chair. "But still: leather?"
"What? Yes, yes, I'll even let you pick out the damned things," Obi-Wan babbled, shuddering violently as Qui-Gon undid the last button, freeing him from confinement. "Just... Qui!" he hissed, as Qui-Gon ran his thumb across the head of Obi-Wan's cock, still with nothing more than a light, teasing caress.
"Yes?" he said, stilling his hand, looking up.
Obi-Wan stared down at him, lips parted, eyes wide and shining and frantic. He looked like he was on the verge of tears-far more tense, more distressed, than Qui-Gon had initially surmised. "Please," Obi-Wan whispered, and Qui-Gon felt his heart clench.
Teasing, then, was definitely not what the situation called for. "As you wish," Qui-Gon said, and swallowed him down.
Obi-Wan shrieked at the sudden, warm, intense contact, almost bucking them both off of the chair as his hips jerked in response. Hold still, Qui-Gon ordered, resting more of his body weight on his arms to help pin his mate in place. He received a semi-coherent whimper in response.
The chime of a comm a short distance from his ears grated against his ears; Obi-Wan twitched, swore viciously, and fumbled in his trouser pocket for it while Qui-Gon chuckled against his skin. "Fucking hells, not now!" The comm went flying, landing with a crack somewhere behind Qui-Gon.
Distraction removed, Qui-Gon resumed exploring with his mouth. His senses were flooded with the smell of his mate, light clean sweat and thick cloth and the glorious essence of aroused human male. There was salt-sweet on his tongue and he smiled in the midst of what he was doing; even in this, Obi-Wan's taste always reminded him of tea.
Because I apparently marinate in it, Obi-Wan sent him wryly. He was already calmer, less tense beneath Qui-Gon's hands.
You're too coherent, Qui-Gon replied. Sit still and let me do this. For all that Obi-Wan spoke of Qui-Gon and his "command mode," Obi-Wan's case of it was far worse. The man could rival Mace for poise and control, and much of that reserve had returned to Obi-Wan's countenance the moment they'd come back to the Temple.
Taking down those walls, taking apart that control, was a challenge he relished, something that Obi-Wan always happily, willingly, surrendered to-usually with relief. Qui-Gon felt that same acquiescence now, and set to work turning his mate into a quivering, loud, demanding mess. Obi-Wan's hands tangled in his hair when Qui-Gon began an artful, prolonged teasing of Obi-Wan's glans.
He could tell when Obi-Wan finally relaxed, because the Lifebond went from a shared trickle of awareness to a whitewater rush of shared feeling. The sensation of what he was doing to his mate's cock doubled back on him: tightness and slick, hot heat, sliding slippery teasing, pressure to release to intense, intense pressure-
Qui-Gon went from half-hard to painfully erect in seconds, and moaned around the cock in his mouth.
"Oh, oh, gods," Obi-Wan groaned, and his hands tightened on Qui-Gon's hair. "I'm sorry, I can't-I can't-" and then he was coming, keening out a harsh cry as he filled Qui-Gon's mouth.
Qui-Gon pulled back and swallowed what he'd been given, his mouth flooded by the scent/taste of bitterness, his eyes squeezed shut as every single shard of orgasm struck him through the unshielded bond. "Sweet little-" he cut short his reply, gritting his teeth as he struggled to get a hand into his leggings, coming the moment his fingers found straining flesh. His vision going white, Qui-Gon shoved a fist into his mouth and bit down, bowed by intensity and a tiny thread of fear that his scream would have seemed marked by pain instead of pleasure.
"Holy... fuck, Qui," Obi-Wan rasped out, his hand pulling free of Qui-Gon's hair to come down in a heavy, awkward pat on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "What in the entire galaxy was that all about?"
Qui-Gon drew in deep breath after breath, just shy of panting and feeling like he'd run meters through Coruscant streets. "Stress relief," he managed to say. "Feel any better?"
"I feel like my skull melted."
That felt like an apt description. He raised his head and looked at Obi-Wan. His mate was flushed and glassy-eyed, and gazed back at him with a silly, lopsided, open-mouthed smile on his face, which made Qui-Gon grin. "You look better."
Obi-Wan snickered and touched the corner of Qui-Gon's mouth, his fingertips coming away smeared with white. "Messy," he said, and popped his fingers into his mouth.
Qui-Gon felt his stomach jolt at the sight, and his cock, so recently spent, gave a great twitch. "Please don't do that," he begged, putting his face back down on Obi-Wan's lap. "Oh, sweet Force, that was evil."
"Was it?" Obi-Wan asked in a deceptively bland, bored tone that didn't fool Qui-Gon at all. "Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of trying anything else right now. I don't think I could stand up. In either fashion," he continued, when Qui-Gon started to laugh.
Neither of them felt compelled to move at all, which led to several peaceful moments of mutual basking. The channel of the Lifebond quieted once more, its natural shielding falling into place. Else we'd live in each other's pockets all the time, and possibly go mad, Qui-Gon thought. In that way they were very much alike; they both had times where solitude was not preferred so much as it was necessary to keep nerves from fraying.
"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked, sensing a partial return of his mate's uneasy thoughts.
Silence stretched between them for long minutes. "I don't want to do this," Obi-Wan said at last, a heavy, melancholy tone in his voice that Qui-Gon had heard only rarely. "I really did prefer the simplicity, the routineness, of what you and I did together for mission work. I don't regret our bond, or our Padawans," he said, running his hands through Qui-Gon's hair, teasing with restless fingers. "But I worked hard, after the Yinchorri Accord, to stay off of the Council's radar. I didn't want to be... this," he said, shifting in the chair. "I liked being Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, not Obi-Wan Kenobi, Councilor and savior of the fucking galaxy."
"But you already have been," Qui-Gon murmured, lifting his head.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh. "And that's exactly why I don't want to do it again."
The commlink Obi-Wan had tossed began chirping for attention, but it sounded... muffled. There was a tinny, uneven quality to the tone that didn't match the chime he'd heard a few minutes ago. Qui-Gon sat back on his haunches, trying to find the device, but didn't see it anywhere on the furniture or carpet. "Obi-Wan, where...?"
To his surprise, Obi-Wan blushed deep red and then pointed up somewhere behind Qui-Gon. He half-turned, tracking the line of Obi-Wan's finger... "Obi-Wan!"
"It startled me!" his spouse exclaimed, torn between amusement and embarrassment.
"It's embedded in the wall, Ben!" Qui-Gon replied, shoulders shaking with laughter as he took in the commlink's new position. The rounded end of it was protruding from the wall, while the rest of it was quite literally buried in the plaster. A web of cracks had spawned around the device. If Qui-Gon stood, the comm would likely still be at least a half-meter above his head. "I'm not reporting that to the Quartermaster."
"I'm not reporting it at all," Obi-Wan retorted, but the smile he'd fought was in full bloom. "Force, it's our first week back and I already need a new commlink."
"You're just going to leave it there?" Qui-Gon asked, getting to his feet and pulling Obi-Wan up with him. They needed a shower. A bath. A dunking in the stone pool. Something that involved lots of cool water on his still-overheated skin.
"Why not?" Obi-Wan said, grinning up at Qui-Gon as he re-buttoned his trousers. "It makes a nice souvenir. Anytime I feel out of sorts, I can glance up at the wall and remember far more pleasant things."
The comm in the wall gave up on chiming; seconds later, it was Qui-Gon's that started beeping for attention. He answered it, aware that it was likely someone looking for Obi-Wan, given he'd missed two calls in a row.
"Qui-Gon, I've been trying to reach your spouse," Mace said, his tone full of disgruntlement. "Why isn't that man answering his comm?"
"I believe the device in question is currently unavailable," Qui-Gon said smoothly, which made Obi-Wan cover his mouth with his hand to hold back a laugh.
"Uh-huh," Mace growled. "Then is he available?"
Qui-Gon handed his comm to Obi-Wan, who took it with a barely restrained smirk. "Yes, Master Windu?"
"Whatever is wrong with your comm, don't tell me, ever," the Councilor said. "I thought you'd like to know: you've been voted in. Congratulations."
"Fuck," Obi-Wan grumbled. Qui-Gon hadn't expected anything different, but it was obvious his mate was still unhappy with the news. "When is Confirmation?"
"Well, Adi suggests that if you wish to keep our fellow Councilors on their toes, now would be a good idea. That is, if you still remember your vows."
"Mace, I could probably recite them in my sleep," Obi-Wan replied, rubbing his face. A twenty-one year-old Councilor? Had they ever done that?
I've no idea, Qui-Gon replied in response to the question. But if change is what we're after, love, then this is a good way to start. Break the molds early.
Obi-Wan nodded. I turn twenty-two in a week. Or sixty-four. Still the worst birthday present I can think of.
I'll be providing a better one, Qui-Gon said, quickly shielding when Obi-Wan dove into his thoughts for hints.
Tease. "Mace, now is as good a time as ever," Obi-Wan said aloud. "Give me a half-hour to change clothes, and I'll meet you upstairs."
"Find Adi, myself, Master Yoda, and Master Yarael in the meeting room just prior to the Council antechamber," Mace said. "You get a quick grilling from your sponsors before we go in."
"All four of you?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling a bit. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, appreciative. It was nice to have support of that caliber.
"Good first impressions, and all that," Mace responded. "See you soon."
Obi-Wan shut down the comm and handed it back to Qui-Gon, who was fighting a smile and mischievous thoughts. "What is it, you?"
"I'll give you fifty credits if you say your vows backwards," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan sputtered out a laugh. Qui-Gon smiled, pleased with the results of his efforts. "Do you want any of us there for Confirmation?"
Obi-Wan waved his hand, shaking his head. "No, no. This is the boring, informal part, for all that it's what winds up in the Archive records. Now, the Senate Confirmation-that, I'll take as much support as I can get."
"You just want someone to hide behind," Qui-Gon couldn't resist teasing.
"You're damn right," Obi-Wan retorted, heading for the 'fresher. "I'd rather be in a space battle piloting a broken TIE fighter than submitting myself to those dunderheads for interrogation."
Qui-Gon gave Anakin the news when the two Padawans got back in the evening from a shared late class. Raallandirr and Anakin both needed to take assessment tests, as their educational placement was not the same as it had been before Naboo. In the meantime, they had kept to the standard schedules for Padawans in their development range.
By then, the Council meeting and Confirmation had been underway for several hours, and Qui-Gon suspected it would be a while yet before Obi-Wan made it home. He also thought that Mace, Adi, and Yoda, now that they had Obi-Wan in their clutches, were using the opportunity to press forward with some of the more radical ideas they had been tossing about during the past year.
"I'm a Council Padawan, now?" Anakin shook his head, a frown on his face. "What was he thinking?"
"Of doing the right thing, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, voice lightly remonstrative. Anakin flushed as he caught the subtle rebuke.
"Right. Duty, I know. But Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan tends to become buried in short order, once he opens this kind of door."
[Skywalker, Master will never let Obi-Wan do himself in via Council work,] Rillian said, hanging her bandolier up on one of the coat hooks next to the door, running her hands down her torso to smooth out her fur. [He'd kidnap us all, first.]
Qui-Gon smiled. "True enough. I would resort to that, if I thought it necessary. And don't worry, Anakin," he said, looking down at the Padawan in question. "I know what you mean. It won't be like that again. All three of us can see to that."
Teya looked up from the couch and meff'd at Qui-Gon, lashing his tail. "And yes, you, too," Qui-Gon added, and the cat put his head back down, mollified.
[Should we wait for him before having dinner, then?] Rillian asked, declaring the matter settled. If only everything in their lives were that simple.
Qui-Gon touched on the Lifebond, listening in for a moment to the whirl of mental activity that was his mate's perspective.
Fuck's sake, Eeth, physiology has nothing to do with it-Force! I have not had enough to drink for this-
He distanced himself from Obi-Wan before he could be sucked in, for the snippet of thought spoke of intriguing things, and Qui-Gon was curious. Mace must have plied Obi-Wan with brandy before the Confirmation. Obi-Wan's state of mind was, despite the annoyance, more mellow than Qui-Gon had expected.
However, he had his own duties this evening, and Padawans to feed. "No, Rillian. I think he'll be at it for some time, yet. We'll make sure to leave a plate for him, but I don't think Obi-Wan will be back until after lights out."
Anakin, meanwhile, was staring up in consternation at the comm embedded in the wall. "What in the Force is that doing there?"
The Padawans were abed, Qui-Gon was reading, and it was approaching midnight. Despite the late hour, Obi-Wan was still wrapped up in Council shenanigans.
Sweet Force, they must have opened the proverbial floodgates, he thought, letting the words drift towards his pairbonds with Tahl and Micah. Tahl was, of course, wide awake.
They still have him in their Council clutches? Tahl seemed irritated. What are they trying to make him do, run for the hills?
Quite likely, he replied, putting down his databook and closing his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch. We do have four Councilors who are not in the mood for changes, after all. If they think exhausting Obi-Wan will get him to quit...
Then they haven't been paying attention, Tahl finished, smug amusement filtering through the bond. I don't think Eeth, Depa, Saesee, and Master Rancisis have realized what kind of vornskr nest they've stumbled into.
Indeed, he thought, and then yawned. He was fighting to stay awake; the events of the past few days had been more than Qui-Gon had bargained for upon their return to Temple life.
Go to bed, genius, Tahl told him, a smile in her voice. Obi-Wan will be home soon.
And what about you? Qui-Gon asked, abandoning the couch for the almost perfect darkness of his and Obi-Wan's bedroom. Sleep was a welcome concept. He had the idea that the rest would actually help Obi-Wan, too, forming and sending strength through the bond to keep his mate awake and on his mental feet, no matter what silliness was thrown at him.
Mister Kicky, remember? Tahl said, frustrated but obviously full of adoration for her developing son. I'm fine, and I get enough of that worry from Micah. Good night, Qui-Gon.
Good night, he told her, and the link became a neutral path in his mind once more. Both of his pairbonds were like that, unless he was actively using them. A Lifebond was blazingly different, by comparison, in that it was always active, always present, and above all, always welcome.
He touched on that thick skein of light, watching it mimic the visual spectrum as it showed off every color from red to violet. Watching that intricate, shifting dance was almost as lulling as having Obi-Wan in his arms. He sent one final burst of love down that link, smiling as he received the same in return from his mate, and was asleep in moments.
It was light beginning to filter in from the main room that woke him, and with that came the realization that Obi-Wan still hadn't made it to bed. Qui-Gon frowned, but found Obi-Wan in the next moment. His steady presence in the Lifebond marked a deep, dreamless sleep, and the sense of him was close enough that he had to be in their quarters.
Qui-Gon wrapped himself in his robe and went out searching, and found Obi-Wan in short order. His mate was asleep on the couch, his head resting on the couch arm. His left arm had fallen, leaving Obi-Wan's hand to brush the carpet with every soft exhalation. A stylus lay on the carpet next to Obi-Wan's fingers, and one of the young Master's leather-bound paper journals was open and face down on Obi-Wan's chest.
Qui-Gon called the stylus to him with the Force, putting it on the smaller table, and then stealthily plucked the journal from his mate's chest. Obi-Wan twitched in his sleep, brow furrowing before he relaxed once more. Qui-Gon smiled at the sight, filled with a tenderness that surprised him. He brushed his hands through Obi-Wan's hair, which hung in limp, damp strands against Obi-Wan's forehead. It was far too warm in their quarters to be sleeping fully clothed, but it seemed that the couch was as far as Obi-Wan managed to get before exhaustion struck.
Still smiling, he perused the latest journal entry while readying a pot of tea for the morning rush.
By the Force. First Council meeting this time was actually worse than my last first Council meeting! I didn't think that was possible.
Qui-Gon owes me fifty credits. Depa got testy, wanting to know how I could be ready for Confirmation so quickly, and I had a flare of temper. Vows were spoken backwards. Whole thing. Backwards. Made Master Eeth laugh, and it certainly lightened the air in that chamber.
Depa didn't laugh. Didn't even smile. I'm worried about her. Mace is, too. But Force, what the hell can we do?
Well, that's one thing. I remember, now-Depa's chosen mate leaves her sometime next year. They never Lifebonded, but it's still a hell of a thing to lose someone you love. I wonder if her irritability is the beginning of that? I didn't hear of them fighting, but according to Adi, Depa has been quieter, more withdrawn, since Jil-Hyra's death. That sort of loss certainly can't be helping. They were friends, good friends, and to find that the Sith has corrupted one of your own... It's fucking harsh. I should know.
I'll have to tell Mace, and Adi. Adi and Depa have been pairbonded since Adi found Depa on Search. If anyone can help her through this mess, Adi can. Maybe Depa and Linena will actually stay together, given some early intervention. Or maybe the separation will be less messy. I don't know. I can't fix everything, but fuck it, if Yoda can meddle, so can I.
I think the little green troll is filled with glee. He dropped a bomb on the Council by bringing up the matter of allowing older students-funny, considering we can't even get multiple students accepted. In fact, he didn't ask, he declared that he would be taking Queen Amidala as Padawan, once the latter was done with her tenure as ruler of Naboo.
He could have stirred them up less by firing a real rocket inside the Council Chamber-SCREW THIS, SLEEP NOW
Qui-Gon chuckled at the black ink smear that blurred the end of the last word. "Well. Can't wait to hear about the rest of it," he murmured, placing the book on the table next to the stylus.
He caught Anakin before the boy could perform his usual deadweight shuffle to the 'fresher, motioning to the sleeping form on the couch. Anakin grinned. What did they do, keep him until dawn?
I don't know. But in deference, practice your stealth.
Will do, Anakin said, and disappeared into the 'fresher to pour himself into the shower. Master Windu wants to review my progress in the vapaad with me this morning. When he wakes up, will you tell my Master?
Double-check that Mace hasn't rescheduled, given that he was up just as late, Qui-Gon told him, and received a brief acknowledgement from the boy.
Rillian padded out into the common room on delicate feet, already trying to be as quiet as possible. He didn't get in until fourth hour, she said, after giving her Master a morning hug. Are they trying to kill him?
Not intentionally, Qui-Gon said, filling a glass with cold water and handing it to his Padawan as she rummaged among their paltry amount of pantry goods for breakfast. But Council meetings always tend to run long, which is why the Council doesn't have full meetings more than twice a week, unless the situation calls for it. Given the circumstances, he's lucky it didn't run until lunchtime today.
Granted, the Council had maintained an irritating habit of greeting them with a full complement when he and Obi-Wan had returned from certain missions. He knew it was their way of keeping an eye on Obi-Wan, and his unique situation, but the constant oversight had still rankled.
Rillian shuddered. Then I never want to sit on the Council, ever! she declared. If asked, I will do so, but I will also do my best to avoid it.
Indeed, he agreed. He'd been practicing the same sort of avoidance for a good twenty years now. Sparring this afternoon, Padawan?
The Wookiee's expression lit up. Oh, yes, Master! Lunch, first?
He wasn't about to keep the growing girl away from food. Of course. Our perishables order should finally arrive sometime this morning, so there will be food here.
No more commissary retrievals? You and Master Obi-Wan will be happy, Rillian teased. He smiled back; she wasn't anywhere near as picky, but the commissary was also better at providing for non-human needs than it was for human.
"Graargh, what time is it?" came a sleepy growl from the couch, and Rillian muffled a laugh at the petulant sound of it.
"Eighth hour, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied.
"Fffff-evil sunlight. Ger'off, cat. Teaaaa."
Qui-Gon and Rillian exchanged smiles. "Go back to bed, fool."
Obi-Wan disobeyed that notion, and within moments came stumbling into the kitchen, heading right for the sink. "Can't. Master Koth wants to speak to me in a half-hour, and we all have an appointment this afternoon," Obi-Wan said, turning on the tap and then ducking his head under the water.
Rillian gave her other Master a puzzled look. "We do?"
Obi-Wan used his hands to wipe water from his hair and face, and when he stood up and faced them, he looked far more alert, if wet. "Yes. Sorry, short notice and all. After lunch, we're all having a meeting with Terza."
[Oh,] the girl said, visibly deflating. [I mean, good, but... sparring?]
Obi-Wan blinked a few times. "Sparring? That is an excellent idea. After this meeting I'll chase all of you around the salle, gladly."
Qui-Gon took pity on her and wrapped his arms around his Padawan, who seemed torn between relief and worry. "We'll still get our time in. I promise."
Rillian nodded, reassured. [Yes, Master.]
Sparring? Anakin chimed in, catching the gist of the conversation through multiple bonds. Twice in one day? Are you trying to break me, Master?
"He's supposed to be meeting Mace this morning," Qui-Gon explained, when Obi-Wan looked baffled.
"Oh." Well, if two sparring sessions in one day is enough to break you, you must be out of shape.
Qui-Gon chuckled as Anakin broadcast blatant "strategic retreat." "He'll learn again, one day."
"Which is one of the things we're going to wind up talking about," Obi-Wan said with a cryptic frown. He went to the teapot, poured a cup, and groaned in delight at the dark, viscous liquid that emerged. "I love you," he told Qui-Gon fervently.
They separated for the day, with confirmed plans to meet in the afternoon. Anakin still had his vapaad review with Mace; he departed in loose training togs with his jaw set, obviously expecting a brutal, demanding session. Obi-Wan slugged back another cup of the tea Qui-Gon had brewed, cleaned up enough to be presentable, and went to see Eeth Koth. Rillian stayed with Qui-Gon for the morning, both of them going through her classes on a datapad and setting up assessment testing on all of her required coursework.
[What if I test out of all of them?] she asked, eyes tracking the long list with intent eyes. [Am I done with schooling?]
"We're never done learning," he told her, smiling at the soft chuff of annoyance that Rillian emitted at the thought of more classwork. "But no. You're still young, Padawan. Even if you test out of every course the Temple requires of you, I'd still want you to take other classes. Explore different subjects, or take advanced versions of what you otherwise might not have seen. Find your strengths. You may have learned a lot from what Obi-Wan showed you, but not all of his talents are yours, just as not all of yours are his."
She rumbled thoughtfully in response, eyes flickering over the list again. [Yes, Master. Though to be honest, I doubt I'll test out of everything. And that's a good thing, right? It means I'll still go to some classes with other Padawans my age.]
He ruffled her mane, which was quickly growing out of the short cut she kept it in. Time for another trim. "Exactly so. I'll get the appointments made, and bully my way through your instructors, if need be. When the testing is done, we'll see how you did, and find our way from there."
[That sounds very nice,] she admitted, reaching up to play with her braid. She always kept the two emerald beads at the end, so they were visible if she looked down. Qui-Gon had added a violet stone bead to mark their anniversary. Her braid would never grow long enough to hold more than that, but given the turmoil that had marked their first year, he thought the second stone a proper gift. [Can I ask you something, Master?]
"Always," he said, putting the datapad aside.
She huffed out a breath, shuffling her feet. He smiled, knowing it was going to be an entertaining process to break her of those tells, especially if Rillian was to follow him into diplomatic situations. [You get really... worried, if something happens that you think will interfere with my training. I don't understand why. We have plenty of time, right?] She gave him a soulful look. [Or is there some time limit for apprenticeships that I don't know about?]
"Have I been smothering you, Rillian?" he asked, bemused and concerned. His attempts to make up for lost time had been misread, it seemed.
[No!] she barked out the refusal. [You haven't. I like the attention, I do! It's just that I'm in no rush to be a Jedi Knight, so even if we have to give up time to injuries and Sith, I don't mind.]
His latest Padawan was an intriguing blend of utter impatience in some matters, yet possessed almost passionate levels of patience in others. "Most Padawans have the opposite point of view, and can't wait to be Knighted."
[Most Padawans are idiots,] Rillian declared with her typical blunt honesty. [I would rather take my time and be assured that I'm not going to screw this up.]
"You have a unique point of view, Raallandirr," he told her softly, and she ducked her head, pleased by the compliment. "Though it would be wise to refrain from calling your fellow apprentices idiots. Let me show you something."
The box was on a wall-mounted shelf, the same color as the wood it rested on and therefore almost invisible. Qui-Gon brushed his hand across the lid of the plain, unadorned container, knowing it must have been Micah or Tahl who would have made sure it was easy to find. Pleased with the new quarters or not, he would have been hard-pressed not to lose his temper if the box had gone missing. It held one of the only things he had not thrown away after cleaning out his quarters in a mad fit of grief, years ago, when he'd returned to the Temple after Crion, Xanatos, and Thani's rebellion.
He rejoined Rillian, sitting down on the couch next to her and handing her the box. She tilted her head, hooting softly as she explored it with her hands. [May I?]
"Of course," Qui-Gon assured her, and Rillian slid the box open. Inside lay a small coil of dark auburn, barely fifteen centimeters long, marked by only three beads. The other item was a necklace, an artful creation that held not beads, but small crystals. Multiple strands of black leather wrapped each tiny piece in a tight, secure weave.
Rillian held it up, cooing at the shimmering dance each crystal did as it caught the light. [Master Kimal's,] she guessed.
"Arconans don't have hair of any sort, but Kimal insisted that he wanted some denotation of his Padawan status. He was so proud of what he had accomplished," Qui-Gon explained, taking the necklace from Rillian, letting his fingers explore the leather weave and the bits of crystal. It was still as familiar to his hands now as it had been thirty years ago. "When his Master died, and Kimal became my Padawan, I continued the tradition for him, adding a crystal with each year that passed. I wasn't expecting to receive this at his Knighting, but Kimal insisted." As did Obi-Wan, he thought, smiling at the memory.
Rillian was studying Obi-Wan's braid, letting it coil in her hand. [It's so short.] The auburn threads caught the light much as Kimal's crystals did, revealing hints of the pale copper Obi-Wan's hair would eventually become. [And there should be three,] she remarked with a sad howl.
"Xanatos cut his own braid and tossed it into the fire," Qui-Gon said, grateful when the old hurt was just a muted feeling in his chest. The sight of that long, luxuriant rope of hair vaporizing in the flames was a moment that had also burned itself into his memory. "Else, I would need a larger box."
Rillian looked up at him, a most serious expression on her face. [There will be three,] she intoned. [I promise.]
"Ah, Padawan," Qui-Gon whispered, and found himself with an armful of Wookiee. He hugged her tightly, while she rumbled pleased, soothing nonsense. "I believe that there will be."
He traded her Kimal's necklace for Obi-Wan's braid, laying it against his fingers as his thumb stroked down the auburn length. "His braid is short because Obi-Wan didn't start growing one until after Xanatos died."
Rillian frowned. [That was a year after you took him as a Padawan, though. Why did he wait?]
Qui-Gon sighed, rueful and still regretting that first, harsh year. "Because I had not given him any reason to believe that he would ever need it. Within six months together, Obi-Wan handed me his lightsaber and left the Order. And I did nothing to stop him."
[What?] Rillian gaped at him. It was obvious she had never heard the story before. Obi-Wan would talk of Melida/Daan only if asked, and his friends were kind enough not to bring it up unless there was need. It wasn't that Obi-Wan feared speaking of that time, or his decision to leave the Order. He had come to terms with that long ago. But there wasn't a soul who knew Obi-Wan who was not aware that he still carried a horrible amount of guilt over Cerasi's death. Not even the fact that Obi-Wan had helped end the planet's civil war had ever assuaged that grief.
We never forget our first love, Qui-Gon thought sadly, even if his Padawan's feelings for Cerasi of Melida had been platonic. Sometimes, though, the difference between platonic and romantic entanglements meant nothing, as had been the case for his thirteen-year-old apprentice.
Qui-Gon pulled his current Padawan close, and told Rillian what had gone on that year, from Bandomeer to Telos. She listened to it all, wide-eyed, and every so often her hand would stray to her braid. He ended the tale with his and Obi-Wan's return to the Temple, and the Council's insistence that the boy's probation be continued. That had angered him so much that, in private, he'd gotten into a shouting match with Mace. You either want me to take an apprentice, or you don't! Make up your fucking mind!
Of course I want you to teach Obi-Wan, you damned fool! Mace had shouted back. I just want him to believe it, too!
That had silenced him; he'd known full well that the other Master was right. If there were censures for idiocy, that year Qui-Gon would have earned them all.
[So that's why you get, er, paranoid? About my training?] Rillian asked, giving him a careful, searching look.
"I suppose so," Qui-Gon admitted. "I don't have the best record with Padawans, Rillian."
His newest Padawan snuggled in close, smiling up at him. [Then it's a good thing Obi-Wan trained you up properly for me,] she said. And as far as Rillian was concerned, that was the final thing that needed to be said on the matter.
Rillian helped him put away the perishables order when it arrived at twelfth hour. Anakin arrived fifteen minutes later, looking beaten up and exhilarated.
"I managed the fifth kata of the vapaad!" he said, grinning victoriously. "I was awful at it, but I did the whole thing through without falling down once." He skipped off to shower, once again much more like an eleven-year-old boy than a Knight. Qui-Gon frowned, thinking of what Obi-Wan had mentioned that morning.
Both Padawans helped him cook, and they were in the process of setting the table when Obi-Wan swooped into the kitchen, seized Qui-Gon about the waist, and proceeded to kiss him soundly. As appreciation for culinary activities went, it ranked somewhere up around extraordinary.
"Good meeting, then?" he asked, when Obi-Wan broke the kiss and looked up at him with his eyes dancing. Qui-Gon's mate was far more alert than when he'd tossed himself off of the couch that morning.
"Excellent meeting; you owe me money," Obi-Wan said, grinning.
"I seem to be a bit low on coin. Can I pay with other means?" Qui-Gon asked, tracing the curve of Obi-Wan's ear with his fingertips and eliciting a purr from his mate.
"You need to stop gambling with insufficient funds. I think we can negotiate terms, though," Obi-Wan replied, pupils swiftly dilating. Force, but to think he could take Obi-Wan apart from so simple a touch!
Only you can do that to me, Obi-Wan sent, a warm, sultry smile curling his lips. No one else.
"Hey, guys!" Anakin called, looking up at them both with his hands on his hips. "Food now, flirting later!"
[Or at least flirt while you make sure we're fed,] Rillian added.
"What did Master Koth want to talk about?" Anakin asked, once most of the meal had disappeared. With two Masters who tended to skimp on breakfast, and two voracious, growing Padawans, it hadn't taken long.
"A lot of things, but the primary subject was Luke Skywalker," Obi-Wan answered, stirring a spoonful of honey into a cup of steaming red tea. "Eeth wanted to know if I would have apprenticed Luke if the Sith, the Empire, and the Purges had never happened."
"What did you say?" Qui-Gon asked, noticing that Anakin was staring at his Master with tense, set shoulders.
"I told him that of course I wouldn't have," Obi-Wan said, taking a sip of tea before reaching across the table, offering Anakin his hand. Anakin gave him a shaky grin and took the reassurance that was offered. "It's all right, Anakin. I know better, and I am not going to let anyone dismiss what he accomplished. As I told Eeth Koth, if none of that mess had happened, I wouldn't have known that taking Luke as a student was the right thing to do. If his victory over a pair of Sith isn't enough to convince Master Koth that age is, ultimately, meaningless, then I'm not sure what will."
[How did he take that answer?] Rillian wanted to know, having received the diplomatic version of the ideas currently being discussed by the High Council.
"Not badly," Obi-Wan said, after thinking for a moment. "Eeth seems inclined to accept the inevitability of older students, and did say he doesn't want to fight Master Yoda over Padmé's apprenticeship."
"I hate to say it, but Luke Skywalker's example would work better on some of the more stubborn holdouts if he was someone present," Qui-Gon said.
"Things are confusing enough," the boy murmured, uncomfortable with the notion. "Can you imagine the mess that would be?"
"In the meantime," Obi-Wan continued, giving Anakin's hand a reassuring squeeze, "it's the possibility of a Master teaching more than one student that still bothers Master Koth, and many others."
"I'm not surprised," Qui-Gon said, rising to fetch his own tea. "It's been ingrained in our consciousness that student groups are a dangerous thing, and lead to Darkness. It's easier to overturn the age requirement, because we're still dealing with a single Master/Padawan pairing."
Anakin sighed. "That's stupid. We know that Jedi were training apprentices in groups for at least four thousand years before the last Sith War happened. Why did the Order let just that one conflict change us so much?"
"Well, we know the Sith were manipulating us on several fronts," Obi-Wan reminded them, mouth twisting with distaste. "By prophecy, certainly. By inciting fear with reminders of those who Fell during the war? Quite possibly. And we have no idea how long that dark veil was in place over Coruscant. That could even predate Sidious."
"Sith, Sith, Sith, Sith, Sith," Anakin grumbled. "Are our entire lives going to revolve around the damned Sith?"
[I really hope not,] Rillian growled, frowning. [I'd hate to think that I have three hundred years or more of Sith warring to look forward to.]
"No." Obi-Wan looked at each of them in turn, steel glinting in his eyes. "We will deal with Sidious. We will stop him, I swear."
Rillian made a soft noise in the back of her throat, as if feeling the need to break the tension Obi-Wan's declaration caused. [Perhaps one of our cultural allies should find an adult to train to Knighthood? Another successful older student might help to break that mindset.]
"That's a very good idea, Rillian," Qui-Gon said, blowing across the lid of his mug to cool its contents before taking a meditative sip.
"I already have four training bonds, and they don't seem to be bothering me," Obi-Wan said with a wry smile.
[Four?] Rillian asked, puzzled.
"My bond with Master Yoda was never dissolved," Obi-Wan explained. "When Anakin and I found ourselves back in this time again, the bond was still present. That little phenomenon fascinated Master Yoda, and is part of the argument he used for my early Knighting, and as proof of the validity of mine and Anakin's experience. Thus, that means I am linked to an ancient troll, the two of you, and Jeila Vin. Once you add in the Lifebond and pairbond, you'd think it would be rather crowded inside my head."
Anakin raised an eyebrow. "Does it feel that way? Crowded, I mean?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, peaceful contentment settling across his features. "It's actually quite nice."
Qui-Gon did a mental tally and realized, with a jolt of surprise, that he had as much and more. "Damn," he blurted aloud. "Three training bonds, two pairbonds, and a Lifebond." That didn't even count Jeila Vin, who would probably make her own space in his thoughts soon enough. "I hadn't given much thought to how very crowded my own head is."
"Now imagine how many bonds Master Yoda must have," Obi-Wan said to Rillian, who was wide-eyed with astonishment. "If anyone tries to argue that our minds aren't built for more than one bond at a time, we can certainly shut down that discussion in a hurry."
[Who's the third training bond with?] Rillian wanted to know. [Not Master Dooku?]
"No," Qui-Gon said, and then winced at the curt sound of his own voice. Perhaps another meditation on Dooku's defection, and his own feelings about the man, was in order. "My bond with Dooku was never very strong, and was dissolved the moment my braid was cut. My other training bond is with Master Yoda, who did an effective job of keeping me sane and grounded during an otherwise disastrous apprenticeship." Unlike his formal training bond, his connection to Yoda refused to fade.
"Geeze," Anakin said, shaking his head. "Yoda must have bond-threads coming out of his ears!"
The door chime sounded as they were cleaning up. Rillian went to answer it and howled with delight as she announced Master Healer Jale Terza. The two of them had struck up a comfortable friendship on Naboo; Qui-Gon suspected that Terza would have tried to claim the Wookiee for an apprentice if Rillian hadn't already possessed a Master.
"Are we ready, then?" Terza asked, glancing around the new quarters with an approving smile.
"I suppose, though we have yet to be informed as to the purpose behind your visit," Qui-Gon said. He held out a steaming mug of tea, having learned through numerous visits to the Ward that caffeine was a swift way into the Master Healer's good graces.
"Oh, gods bless you," Terza said gratefully, sounding much like Obi-Wan had that morning. "I have three sick Initiates and a lack of available apprentices."
"No replacement for Bella yet, then?" Obi-Wan asked, bringing in a chair from the kitchen to give them enough seating in the main room. He turned it around and sat down, resting his arms across the chair back. Anakin and Rillian took the hint, settling down on the couch, ready to find out what was going on. Qui-Gon joined them a moment later with more tea; he couldn't quite shake a tired miasma that had been dogging him since that morning, and suspected Obi-Wan was the one that needed to be drinking the damn tea, instead.
Whoops.
Next time, you can be my battery, Qui-Gon replied, while Obi-Wan shot him an amused, apologetic smile.
"No. No one has quite caught my eye," Terza admitted. "It could be years before I see another student. Congratulations about Jeila, by the way. The entire creche is buzzing about the Hero and the Initiate."
"Sounds like a bad book title," Obi-Wan muttered.
"Quite," Terza agreed, before turning her attention to Anakin. "Padawan Skywalker, I am here at your Master's request. The first thing you need to know is that I am now your primary Healer."
"O-kayyyy," Anakin said, frowning. "I wasn't aware that I needed one. I'm used to getting shuffled around to whatever Healer is available at the time."
"Well, things are quite a bit different now," Terza said, giving Anakin a warm smile. "And aside from our shared experiences, working with the Padawans is actually my specialty. The only reason I held your Master's case for so long was due to the early age of his Knighting, and the unique challenge of dealing with a Knight who was, quite literally, not yet finished growing. That is now the exact circumstance you will face. You have the memory and skills of an adult, but the body of a near-pubescent child."
"Don't I know it," Anakin grumbled, and Rillian chuckled.
Terza leaned forward in her chair, pinning Anakin with a serious, stern glare. "Both of your Masters and several of your peers have remarked that you seem quite mature for your age at some times, and quite young at others. This was noted even before you gained back your memories of that other time, Padawan Skywalker. And there is a reason for that." She paused a moment, ascertaining that she had Anakin's undivided attention. "You have not only the body of a child, but the brain of a child, Anakin. That means that despite your adult memories, your body chemistry is still hard-wired to respond as a child does to emotional and sensory input. At times, your memories will override that, but generally speaking, you're still only eleven Standard."
Terza glanced at Obi-Wan and inclined her head; Obi-Wan nodded and took up the explanation, while Anakin glanced back and forth at them with a faint line of confusion between his eyes. "For all intents and purposes, you should be a senior Padawan. Terza and I have discussed it, and I can't treat you like one because you literally can't yet behave as one, no matter what our preferences in the matter may be. It makes your situation even harder than Rillian's or Padawan Secura's. Rillian doesn't have to worry about this until she's at least thirty Standard, and Aayla, at least, has already been through puberty."
Anakin's brow furrowed, and then he blanched. "Oh, Sith! You're saying puberty is going to be even more of a nightmare than it was before?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Terza confirmed, smiling at the expression on Anakin's face. "You will be fully aware of what is going on with your body, but control of your emotional responses and reactions will still be nigh impossible. The positive outcome will be that you will be able to gain Senior Padawan status once the early, chaotic bit of it is over. Granted, you will still be one of the youngest Senior Padawans in the history of the Order..."
"Better that than eleven-year-old Knight," Anakin retorted immediately. "I'll take that instead, thanks."
"This will not be easy," Obi-Wan warned him. "You will be taking advanced classes; you will have an increased number of responsibilities because of your new position as a Council Padawan; your body chemistry will try to sabotage your efforts every step of the way. The next few years are going to be very, very hard-harder than, I suspect, either of us planned for."
Anakin blew out a disgusted breath. "Yeah, well. I didn't really expect it to be easy, either. But I can do this, Master."
"I know you can," Obi-Wan smiled, and Qui-Gon and Rillian both sent their own encouragement through the bonds. By the time they were done, Anakin looked much better, though there was still a faint line of concern between his eyes.
"Which, again, is why you will have me as your primary Healer," Terza resumed her explanation. "You will need to make sure you get the amount of sleep needed for your age level, no matter your workload or stressors. You can't forget to eat, or neglect your health in any way, even if you remember being able to treat your body harshly. Remember that you're eleven, not twenty-seven. I don't mean that I won't consider the experience you have, or discount your opinion, but it is vital that you do as I instruct during the next five years. This is a critical time of human growth, and I imagine you'll want to reach your twentieth year in good health. This means regular visits to my Ward for physical checkups and vocal interrogations, both of which will help me keep track of your well-being. It may seem that I mother-hen you, but I monitored your Master in a similar fashion. I hope you listen to me more than he did," she said with a pointed glare, while Obi-Wan glanced away and tried his best to look innocent.
You know, she used to come to me to demand that you sleep, Qui-Gon sent.
Well, now you have even more of an arsenal at your disposal to convince me to stay abed, Obi-Wan retorted, an undercurrent of imagery accompanying the thought that was pure wickedness.
Anakin was quiet for a few moments, dwelling over everything he had been told. Then he smiled, the faint line on his brow clearing. "That doesn't sound too bad. And I happen to like sleep."
[And food,] Rillian added.
"Good. The moment you start having problems with your sleep, come to me. If there's half a chance of keeping your rest cycles in better shape than Obi-Wan's, then we need to take it," Terza said, giving Anakin another serious look. "Agreed?"
"Agreed," Anakin replied, nodding. "I don't want to be crazy."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Unlike some of us, I suppose. We'll go over your class work later, and figure out what we're going to do about that. No sense wasting your time on coursework that will leave you bored senseless, since you'll remember much of it."
"That's how we spent the morning," Qui-Gon said, and Rillian rumbled agreement. "The assessment exams will be the hardest to schedule, since neither of our Padawans is even remotely close to the age the instructors are used to seeing for testing out of subjects."
[I don't think I'll test out of everything,] Rillian said. [But sixth-year algebra is already boring me stiff, and it's only been one class.]
"Smart girl," Obi-Wan lauded Rillian, smiling. "Do it the easier way, definitely. The assessments aren't that bad, but don't be surprised if your instructors try to dump extra work on your head to have you prove your efficiency. However, please don't follow my example and try to do all of it in less than two days."
"Anakin, this is a prime example of that whole "not sleeping" thing I just mentioned," Terza said, reaching out and swatting Obi-Wan's shoulder. "How you managed to attain your current size without serious repercussions to your health is beyond me."
Obi-Wan's eyes went too-bright as he exchanged a glance with Qui-Gon; Qui-Gon decided he was not going to let either of them enlighten the Healer on their earlier theory. "Thank you, Terza. I know that among the four of us, we can maintain each other's health and sanity."
"Good. You're all much better at it as a group than as individuals," Terza agreed with a sour expression. "You're horrible at it on your own. Anakin, I'll send a schedule to your inbox-your first year will mean appointments every month. This is even more dire territory than I was in with your Master, and I mean to keep you under close watch until I'm sure none of us will stumble."
Anakin looked as if he wanted to protest, but then changed his mind. "Yes, Healer Terza."
"Are we settled?" Obi-Wan asked, noticing that Rillian was getting twitchy. "I think we're due for a sparring match in a reserved salle."
"We're done, unless anyone has questions?" She glanced around, pleased when there were none. "Anakin, if that changes, you can comm me at any time-that information will be included with your schedule. Obi-Wan, you're with Abella until further notice, as rehabilitation is her specialty."
Qui-Gon was surprised by a flash of anger, quickly quelled. I didn't think you were still upset with Abella.
I'm... not. "Terza, you and Bella can stop beating around the bush and admit it. I'll always be under someone with a rehab specialty."
Terza seemed disinclined to agree. "There's no way of knowing for certain-"
"Bullshit," Obi-Wan said, glaring at her. "Bella said it herself, Jale. I'm a head injury patient, even if the injury is metaphysical instead of physical. There's always going to be the chance of something going wrong."
"Yes, and I thought the same thing when you came to me at fourteen with your head bashed in," Terza retorted. "You outgrew the need even for simple monitoring from that; the same could happen this time. Abella might be paranoid, but allow her to be paranoid for both of you. If you let that worry consume you, you may as well let her retract medical clearance and sit here on your ass."
Qui-Gon thought about the list of responsibilities that seemed to be piling up and shook his head. "Little chance of that."
"I've heard. Congratulations," Terza said, shaking her head when Obi-Wan muttered something obscene under his breath. "Go spar. Work off some frustration with a lightsaber and stop bitching at me."
"Sorry, Jale," Obi-Wan said after a moment. "You're right. It's been too long. Who wants to get their ass kicked?" he announced to the room at large.
[I... don't?] Rillian hedged. [I rather think I'll be trying to win.]
"Indeed," Qui-Gon agreed. "Master and Padawan versus Padawan and Master?" he asked, issuing the challenge to his lifemate in casual terms.
"Losers?" Obi-Wan asked, eyes glinting in response.
"Make dinner."
"Awesome. I'm so not cooking tonight," Anakin said, and Rillian growled her own challenge at her fellow Padawan.
The advantage of a private salle was that their observers were limited to the number of Padawans who could cram their noses against the viewport in the door. Obi-Wan and Anakin trounced Qui-Gon and Rillian during the first match; Qui-Gon countered with a best, two out of three offer. Rillian seemed to take the thrashing as a personal challenge and used the Jar Kai to its full advantage, allowing them to win the next two rounds and get Qui-Gon out of preparing dinner. He was better at it, yes, but by the Force, he didn't like cooking that much!
Obi-Wan did, and Anakin had no complaints about helping or washing up. Dinner passed mostly without conversation, as Obi-Wan was running on too little sleep, too much caffeine, and endorphins. He and Anakin finished the evening by setting up Anakin's assessment tests, with Qui-Gon's occasional input. Qui-Gon spent a few minutes trimming Rillian's hair back to the Padawan length she preferred, which earned him another Wookiee hug.
All told, the four of them pretty much fell into bed without prompting from anyone but Teya, who wanted to sleep on Obi-Wan's head. Qui-Gon drifted off to very loud, pleased purring, and wasn't sure if it was from the cat or his lifemate, who was wrapped securely in Qui-Gon's arms.
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