Destinies Delayed: Part 2

Chaotic thoughts and confusion began to dissipate as even more energy flooded into his body. Now that he knew what to look for, Qui-Gon spotted the hatchway Obi-Wan had been trying to direct him toward. He gave thanks to the Force that the Padawan had better opportunity to study the environment than he had himself. And thanks that the maintenance droids called upon in this portion of the city were the large, industrial types. He should be able to fit.

Get down yourself, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon instructed, his thoughts now much clearer despite the near crippling pain that still clutched at him as he began to drag the twins away from the burning wreckage, thanks to Obi-Wan and thanks to his own abilities of control. He felt Obi-Wan's acknowledgment. And be wary of a follow-up team.

But, of course, if he was prescient, Obi-Wan should already know the threat wasn't over.

It would take someone with Force ability to override the access into the underground or the alert that undoubtedly was already enabled from what would first be assumed to be an accident, or a key. And Qui-Gon had no doubt their pursuers would manage to find their own way down soon enough if they had an idea the attack hadn't been successful.

First things first. Qui-Gon could tell when Obi-Wan began to bring the Force to bear on a hatchway or something else, so quickly muted their link to keep from disrupting the other's concentration. Which immediately put the Jedi Master a little too much back into his own body and the mind-numbing agony that threatened to overcome any control he could muster, since Obi-Wan had been channeling some of the pain away while focusing energy to him. But the task of conveying the girls downward to at least temporary safety offered its own distraction. Especially as one of them began to awaken. And the finesse required to open the hatchway without breaking the controls and rendering it inoperative -- or sounding a further alarm - also proved quite distracting.

Qui-Gon sent a suggestion of sleep back into the mind of the young one in his arms, reinforcing the orders already placed there by Obi-Wan, and dropping another measure of the compulsion onto the twin lest her sister's momentary distress be enough to reawaken them both. Fortunately the hatchway opened more easily than he expected since his Force control wasn't up to his usual skill. Which left him with only needing to lower both girls down into the total darkness below (after all, maintenance droids did not need light to maneuver), then himself, while restoring all of the circuits he had overridden before that effort set off an alarm itself

Actually getting below proved deceptively simple. He just pitched forward into a controlled fall rather than expending the energy and effort for full levitation as he used for the girls. Managing not to land on either girl, and to somehow get them and himself out of the way in time to not be run over by the droid rushing along to deal with the fire and destruction above, Qui-Gon thought to move quickly away from this area. There would be more droids on the way, and one would eventually not be so involved in clean-up orders to ignore the intrusion. Which might very well bring more than maintenance droids.

Moving quickly in complete darkness would be quite a feat, however. While Qui-Gon could normally use the Force to read air currents and to trace circuitry, such tasks weren't something quickly nor easily done since there was little of the Living Force in such a highly mechanized environment. Reading the patterns of existence in the Unifying Force was no more one of his particular strengths than healing.

A blue line of light suddenly overtook the darkness around him from behind. Qui-Gon dropped into a crouch, careful not to put too much weight on his damaged leg, then stepped to put himself between the girls and the potential threat before realizing the glow came from the hand of the one he most wanted to see.

"I should have thought of that," he managed with a rueful laugh and gestured to the extended lightsaber Obi-Wan held up before him as a light source.

"You hae other things on your mind, and both yer hands full." The light from Obi-Wan's saber lent the other's already pale skin an almost ethereal glow, and made his eyes seem almost as blue as Qui-Gon's own. The young Jedi held the boy draped over a shoulder, using the hand that held the saber to keep the burden steady, while Obi-Wan's other hand was pressed tightly across his stomach and against his side under the dark jacket. Blood stained those partially obscured fingers like a living shadow.

"We're a fine pair," Qui-Gon snorted. At least the injury to his leg had been clean, cauterizing. Just nerve, tissue and muscle damage. At least he was not likely to bleed to death.

"Nae, just pass out from shock, leaving me t' carry the bloody lot of you." A sudden grin followed Obi-Wan's sarcasm, and he refused to acknowledge anything odd by his continued ability to read Qui-Gon's private thoughts.

"Or for you t' ultimately lose the use o' yer leg from metal poisoning," he then added much more soberly. He gestured for Qui-Gon to take a seat on the cold floor and carefully knelt down himself. "Tis time, d' yew think, for me t' remove the shrapnel an' fashion you a bandage?"

Qui-Gon cast his consciousness outward before remembering who it was asking about the future. And remembering that this was the second such question from Obi-Wan. Independent though Obi-Wan might be, it seemed he also had a craving for a Master's assurance, or had definitely been curtailed in the past in using his foretelling so had no confidence in it.

Qui-Gon would have no problem in providing assurance, but only when the other really needed it. "Aren't you the one with prescience, Padawan Kenobi?" he countered. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

This time the offered smile was shy, yet not for long once he was able to sense that Qui-Gon was not being patronizing or accusatory. The smile then changed into a grin that, from another person, Qui-Gon would had felt to be misplaced in timing or circumstance, since there was actually very little to be smiling about in their current predicament. Misplaced, or worse, as if another would be fishing for a compliment. Or subtly shifting to regain dominance not over the situation, but over the other participants.

But Qui-Gon somehow knew that humor and sarcasm was how this Padawan had learned to deal with overwhelming problems or the ironies of life. Such was how Obi-Wan had managed to stave off the Darkness while following a Master who had derived intense satisfaction in being able to overcome such problems, and so had sought them out at every opportunity despite the toll on self. Or Padawan.

He had to think that such a reaction to danger or even something serious would have just about driven Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi crazy.

"If yew want certainty o' the future, Master Jinn, yew hae best send for Master Yoda." Obi-Wan obviously took Qui-Gon's willingness to ask the question as acquiescence to spending the time, for he was already carefully placing the boy he carried next to his sisters where they lay behind the Jedi Master. "My … talent in foretelling be sporadic an' usually offering images o' things so far in the future that e'en if I could remember them, I would nae recognize it when finally happening. Always in motion, the future may be," he then quoted in a passable form of Master's Yoda's accent and dialect. "But so be the present. At least for me."

Before Qui-Gon could stop him, Obi-Wan then shrugged out of his leather jacket, not quite able to mask a sharply drawn breath from such movements but he didn't stop and, in fact, also removed his shirt. Bandages several days old covered not only Obi-Wan's throat as Qui-Gon had previously spotted, but across one shoulder and a good portion of his ribcage. Where there wasn't linen, Qui-Gon could still make out livid bruising as shocking in contrast against the bared skin as the bandages had been. A turn and Qui-Gon also noted the stain of red that ran from a twisted, jagged line along his left side and covered the skin down into his waistband.

While humor was not Qui-Gon's normal way of coping with something so unexpectedly brutal, he knew the other would be expecting some sort of comment. And, frankly, Qui-Gon knew that humor - even poorly executed - would be better received than pity.

"I can understand not being able to get away from a falling wall, young Padawan, but shouldn't you have avoided the knife?"

Obi-Wan twisted his head from where he had been intently studying Qui-Gon's leg, blushing shyly, the blush then increasing when he caught the changing nature of Qui-Gon's gaze. The Jedi Master wasn't quite sure if the other's blush had been from modesty or from embarrassment in incurring such injury that -- as Jedi -- he probably should have been able to avoid.

Qui-Gon could feel his own blush forming over the inappropriate familiarity of his stare, and quickly opened his mouth to apologize for being too forward in it or the question. But Obi-Wan actually answered the question before Qui-Gon could say anything else.

"Actually, my prescience hae always faltered when it comes t' personal danger," Obi-Wan offered rather matter-of-factly. "Master Yoda thinks tis because I thought o' foretelling as cheating, that it be an unfair advantage o'er those who d' nae hae the ability. So I disregard what I think I feel."

While that sounded quite like something his former Master might have figured intuitively, Qui-Gon knew very well it had not been Obi-Wan that Master Yoda had blamed for such thinking. Undoubtedly a'Thuul had felt such a talent to be unfair. Since it had belonged to another - someone younger, someone human -- and not himself.

"But you don't feel that way about your other Jedi abilities?" Qui-Gon had to ask. "That possessing them gives you an unfair advantage over others who are without?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I guess since anything else I can d' be common t' most other Jedi's that I h'nae, seen those in the same way. Nae hae I spent enough time around any specific non-Jedi t' pick up on their 'jealousies o' resentments."

Definitely a'Thuul's jealousy.

"An' I must admit I would hae probably missed the warning o' the attack anyway," Obi-Wan continued, for once not seeming to pick up on Qui-Gon's thoughts. "My thoughts were nae remotely aware o' the Force o' anything but what I could see 'fore me." Obi-Wan had turned his face away, his words almost too soft for Qui-Gon to have picked it up, especially in light of the Jedi Master's thoughts castigating a fellow Master.

What had Obi-Wan been looking at when the knifeman had attacked?

Oh.

So Qui-Gon was not the only one feeling this overwhelming attraction. Relieved and desiring to at least let Obi-Wan know that the distraction had been mutual, Qui-Gon was instead rendered suddenly speechless by a movement of something deep within his leg that had no business creating any such feeling. He couldn't keep a groan silent.

"Sorry." But the words were barely said, a reflex without feeling.

Qui-Gon couldn't mask his surprise at that, especially since Obi-Wan had shown such solicitousness previously. He reached out for the other's thoughts and was further surprised to be brought up short by quite steady shielding. For the moment he could feel absolutely nothing from the younger Jedi, and he found himself missing that sense of the other he had only so recently accepted.

"Master, please dinna push."

This time Qui-Gon could hear the emotions from the other that he could not sense, and found himself drawing back both mentally and physically. Of course things were moving too fast. They had become too close, but it had been mutual. Hadn't it? Or had he misinterpreted this, just as he had with Xanatos -

Strong hands and a stronger hold with the Force kept Qui-Gon from continuing to move in his discomfort.

"Think whate'er you must, but please just stop moving, Qui-Gon!"

The Jedi Master had never quite heard such a heart-felt plea come from another Jedi, and that alone stopped him from continuing to fight the hold Obi-Wan was exerting.

Think whatever he must?

What did Obi-Wan mean? What did he think Qui-Gon was doing - or why - or -

Oh. Oh, fuck.

A wonderful word, that. Short, crude, easy to get out even with little ability to breathe. Without any of the guttural glottal stops prevalent in Huttese, his usual curses of choice.

For an instant Qui-Gon was amazed at the tricks his own brain had sought to play on him. Instinctive contemplation and dwelling on things that were important yes, but should not have taken top priority in his thinking. How in the Force had he so easily been distracted by what Obi-Wan was thinking from what Obi-Wan was doing?

Although he would have eagerly embraced returning to the insecurities and doubts he had conjured, Qui-Gon had no such luck. Again and again he was caught by the pain as another piece of metal was extracted from deep within his leg. And could only endure.

Minutes followed of silence, of pain, then ,"fuck, indeed," in a hoarse whisper. Obi-Wan drew forth the last piece of metal. He had been using only Force and will, and seemed to collapse in on himself for a heartbeat, shifting back on his heels to be able to lean against the nearest wall. Deep breaths, shaking hands, sweat-stained hair and glazed eyes. Which finally lifted and met Qui-Gon's.

"How about we dinna d' anything like this again, Master?"

That had been the second time Obi-Wan had called him Master, without the rest of his name attached. Instead of the presumption it should have been interpreted as, Qui-Gon was touched and surprised at how natural the acknowledgment sounded coming from those moistened lips. How right it made him feel deep within himself. More light filling those hidden shadows and burning away the doubts he had been feeling.

"Yer lucky, twas mostly across yer calf, there be muscle damage, but nae t' much fused t' the bone."

When Obi-Wan finally lifted his eyes to met Qui-Gon's, Qui-Gon needed to close his own from the emotion he could read within. Having to hurt Qui-Gon in order to help him had disturbed Obi-Wan as much as the physical pain had disturbed the Jedi Master.

Even as that last thought came to him, Qui-Gon reopened his eyes to see Obi-Wan's head jerk up from where he had returned to his ministrations over Qui-Gon's leg, a wide band of gold silk falling from the Padawan's stilled hand. Their eyes meet again, this time further connecting, twin mirrors of what lay before and within their selves. This time there was no room for pain.

It was like a piece of Qui-Gon's soul had returned home. A destiny somehow delayed, but now -- finally -- fulfilled.

"Have you enough left of your shirt that I can bind your side, my Padawan?" It was suddenly much easier to turn back to the tasks at hand since Qui-Gon no longer needed to expend so much energy or effort in fighting the wants of his soul.

Or the will of the Force.

Something seemed also to settle in Obi-Wan's mind as he finished tying off the make-shift bandage around Qui-Gon's leg and held up the remaining scraps. "Nae, I dinna think so."

"Then allow me to sacrifice my own to the cause."

Until he moved to take of his jacket and shirt, Qui-Gon had forgotten about the first part of the explosion. While the pain was nothing compared to that which still gripped the entirety of his lower leg, it was enough to still him for a moment, and to wrench another groan from his lips.

At once Obi-Wan slid up and offered his assistance. "Let me look, Master."

Feeling the obvious joy Obi-Wan took in speaking such a simple yet emotionally charged word, Qui-Gon let that pleasure infuse him as he had the energy offered before. Both served to allow him better control over the pain. He was able to twist his upper body toward the other since they would have had to move the sleeping children for Obi-Wan to get behind him. When Obi-Wan then started to reach back to his lightsaber for a better light source but aborted the movement with a hiss, Qui-Gon turned enough to stop him with a touch, then reached over and took his own weapon out from the jacket pocket pain had caused him to hastily drop.

"Use mine."

Although Obi-Wan had been doing his best to hide his own difficulties while treating Qui-Gon's, Qui-Gon knew each movement the other made was increasing the likelihood of Obi-Wan's side started to bleed again. The saber was little to offer, but at least something until Qui-Gon was up to doing more.

He activated the blade, setting the actuator switch to keep it lit as Obi-Wan had his own, then set it down, out of the way but close enough to offer a muted if green glow. For a moment Obi-Wan stared at it, his hand moving unconsciously to the beads that adorned the now sweat-stained and somewhat bedraggled braid.

"I dinna realized …"

Qui-Gon lifted his hand to cover Obi-Wan's fingers, to touch the beading himself, then the tiny stud in Obi-Wan's ear. "So this is not your usual color?" Not just an unusual color for the Padawan, Qui-Gon suspected, but unusual adornments. Few Jedi wore jewelry or accents of any sort unless dictated by their cultural or religious beliefs.

A shake of the head. "I hae only thought the beads and earring would help disguise the significance o' the braid. The color … " he met Qui-Gon's eyes again, his own nearly the same color they were discussing. "Picking the beads felt almost like choosing the crystals for my saber."

Said with reverence, with wonder, and Qui-Gon felt a corresponding shiver spread over his body.

He tugged gently but with insistence on that beaded braid, still doing most of the moving so that he could feel Obi-Wan's lips again beneath his own again. This kiss was even sweeter than those first, for it was not offered or done as a dare or in challenge, by someone trained in the art but not the passion. Qui-Gon felt a sense of rightness, of almost innocent awe that couldn't quite override the abrupt flare of his lust. That override was abruptly handled, however by Qui-Gon's realization that the moans each of them made into the other's mouth were just as much from pain as from passion.

Making sure the other could sense his obvious reluctance, he pulled away. Slowly. "Your injury -"

"The rest o' yours first, Master."

While Qui-Gon couldn't be sure if Obi-Wan's eyes were that fiercely green because of a reflection of the blade, or from desire, he could not allow them to even think about resuming their closeness until they had completed their duty, lest that duty be totally forgotten. And that in order to do so, they would have to be able to move - probably even to fight again - which meant finishing with their injuries. Since he also immediately felt the strength of the other's insistence that he'd not be able to see to Obi-Wan's until the Padawan had first seen to him, he once again twisted to present his back.

"Well, tis nae t' bad," Obi-Wan commented after careful - and completely non arousing -- touches. "I'd love t' hae some water, though ..." He trailed off and took up one of the remaining scraps of his own shirt. The raw silk was rough enough to scrape over Qui-Gon's back and draw forth many of the slivers of metal and plastics without causing too much pain.

It actually felt good. Warm. Just as had Obi-Wan's gentle probing.

When Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan turn his concentration to removing the splinters as he had the molten globs in his leg, he shook his head and turned back to face the Padawan. "Don't waste your time or energy, Obi-Wan. This," and he rolled his shoulders despite the twinges it brought, "this won't slow me down."

Obi-Wan bit his lip, then nodded and helped Qui-Gon put his jacket back on. Although the jacket had been cut through in numerous areas and blood had stained those rents, it would still offer some protection for the wounds. And offered something against the cold that was beginning to seep through the energy of their efforts.

Maintenance droids didn't need heat any more than they did light.

"Now come here, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon guided the other to shift from a kneeling position to sitting. Quickly he tore his own shirt into long strips, keeping the sleeves intact to use as padding under the makeshift bindings he was creating. Although Obi-Wan obviously maintained a high level of fitness, he was nowhere near as broadly muscled, nor matched Qui-Gon's height, which meant the pieces should be long enough to wrap fully around the other's ribs in a couple of places, especially by tying two strips together.

Qui-Gon didn't spend anywhere near as much time as he wanted to examine and treat the knife wound. In the end he also decided to leave the older bandages intact despite one now cut through and needing to be tied off again. Since Obi-Wan's previous injuries had not been dealt with since coming to Haven it would probably take both pairs of their pants to offer enough cloth to replace the wrappings around neck, shoulder and chest, even had the pants not been made of leather and therefore, unsuitable to the task. And while such an opportunity to get them both out of most of their clothes certainly had its appeal ….

"T'would nae help the bairn's opinion o' Jedi, I fear, Master."

Qui-Gon couldn't be certain in the low lighting, but he sensed that despite the teasing response to his thoughts, Obi-Wan was blushing. Again he had a notion that Obi-Wan was not very conversant in the intimate arts from a non-coerced position. It should be himself doing the blushing, however, for thinking such thoughts in the first place. Not to mention not keeping such thoughts behind his mental shields.

Just how many times would he have to keep castigating himself to keep his focus on the here and now?

Qui-Gon quickly tied off the ends of what had been his shirt around Obi-Wan's lower ribs. Although he let his hands linger a bit longer than perhaps necessary, it was to use the touch to offer what comfort and warmth as he normally would have used the Force. At this point he had little to spare; he'd actually be quite lucky to be able to gather enough to stand, much less walk or help another, even Obi-Wan.

And carry two children.

"That's the best I can do with what is on hand, I'm afraid," he finally acknowledged. "We will just have to muddle through as we are."

Obi-Wan nodded and quirked his lips into a grin Qui-Gon was beginning to look forward to seeing as much as he dreaded it.

"Well, if anyone could d' this, Master, t'wouldn't hae hae t' send for Jedi."

Qui-Gon didn't even try to hold onto his composure. He laughed as much at the absurdity of the statement as he did the sentiment, then let Obi-Wan help him up. He moved out of the other's grasp to see whether or not he could stand on his own.

Success. Even with a couple of steps.

But there was no way he'd make it as far as the spaceport. Which he felt compelled to mention. Now that he needed the staff, of course he had left it behind somewhere.

"Then we will hae t' find another form o' transport." Obi-Wan began lifting the children. When he moved to give Qui-Gon the boy, Qui-Gon shook his head.

"If you try to carry both girls, you'll undo any good I might have done in seeing to your injury, Padawan."

In his consternation and concern, Obi-Wan didn't seem to hear the acceptance in Qui-Gon's form of address for him. Qui-Gon felt a little ache at that, but realized this, like their burgeoning attraction would have to be dealt with later.

"But yer leg … their combined weight --"

"Even healthy, you're not really big enough to hold the twins, Obi-Wan. And my leg will hold out or not, with or without the weight of two young girls." Qui-Gon was certain Obi-Wan flushed this time, and had to think this was not the first time someone had denied him -- pointed out the limitations -- due to his height.

"I know Master Yoda is fond of saying size matters not," he continued softly, "but we both know in some cases it does. And at least in this, two for me would be a better division of duties. That will leave you with one hand free to keep lighting our way. Not to mention defending us if necessary. Besides, if we absolutely must, we can just wake the children and let them carry themselves."

He might have imagined the look of horror that quickly crossed Obi-Wan's face, but in no way did he imagine the sarcastic accusation that followed.

"Why d' I imagine you hae a bad habit o' always having t' be right?"

Qui-Gon just grinned. "As you can verify with Master Yoda once we get out of this." He grunted slightly as the weight of the second child was added, and wobbled, but pointedly ignored the look of 'I told you so' on Obi-Wan's face. Instead he managed to marshal more of the Force to aid in his carrying. And in walking.

"I'm not sure I want to expose innocents again to another effort like either of the first two," Qui-Gon then began, once Obi-Wan placed his own charge back over his shoulder then manipulated the Force to pick up and hand back Qui-Gon's lightsaber before retrieving his own. "Going up to the street might not be for the best."

"I agree." Obi-Wan had taken point and didn't turn around when he spoke, but Qui-Gon heard the words as much in his head as he did with his ears.

"What I was thinking -- wondering -- what type o' droids be handling servicing down here?" the younger Jedi continued. "Surely the occasional human worker be needed? Otherwise our presence here should hae set off alarms."

"Actually our presence should do so regardless, I would think."

Obi-Wan took the moment to stop and twist his head to look back at Qui-Gon. "Well, yes, I be quite aware o' that, but decided t' accept the luck we hae already been blessed wit', and nae be tempting the Fates by asking for trouble." His lips quirked again into a mischievous grin. "T' late for that now, Master. Be yew a jinx as well as insufferably superior?"

Qui-Gon tried to frown but couldn't maintain anything other than an expression of pleasure. It felt good - unnatural - but good to be able to tease another. Xan did not take teasing well.

"Are you saying you still relied on luck, Obi-Wan? On Fate? Surely Master Yoda has told you --"

"Master Yoda says a lot o' things, most o' which you need an interpreter t' figure out," Obi-Wan shot back dryly, again starting back along the darkened underground pathway. "And how in a Sith's Hell did you manage t' make it through Master Rashieen's Ancient Societies an' Ethics class, if not by luck? " he added archly. "Or are yew one o' those academic types who thrives on archaic an' obscure histories about dead races?"

"An understanding of the past is always useful in explaining the future," Qui-Gon countered mildly, offering and explaining nothing else.

"Spoken like a true Master. And you dinna answer my question."

"Didn't I?" If Obi-Wan wanted to see Qui-Gon as a Master --

Qui-Gon could almost follow the other's thought processes, though he purposely kept his shields up so that Obi-Wan couldn't find the answer the easy way. The younger Jedi had already proven more than once to have a logical way about him even if he exhibited unorthodox methods in implementation, so this really shouldn't be too much of a challenge.

"If you truly loved academics, you would be teaching classes at the Temple instead o' teaching a Padawan, an' staying active in field duty." Obi-Wan lead them around a corner, again pausing until Qui-Gon caught up so as not to remove their only light source. "And examining the past t' predict the future be nae the philosophy o' a scholar o' historian."

Qui-Gon could hear the sudden frown in Obi-Wan's voice and wondered if he had seen something. But no, he had reached his conclusion.

"Force, yew did enjoy the discussions o' ethics, dinna yew?" It was almost an accusation. "Tis nae the teaching o' an apprentice you enjoy so much, but the opportunity t' challenge them! An' you actually like being a diplomat." Another long corridor ahead of them.

"Someone has to, Obi-Wan." He kept his tone mild. Non-threatening and non-judgmental. "What I enjoy is helping people. Working as a diplomat for the Chancellor and the Senate is one of the best ways in doing so, despite the politics so often involved."

"Like now."

"Just so. While the children may be a fault for running away, their punishment should not be people shooting at them."

"Tell me that again tomorrow, after you hae hae a few hours wit' them awake."

Qui-Gon could have chastised, growled. Instead, "You don't like children, Padawan?"

"In truth, I hae hae little experience wit' them. Master."

The pause was obvious, but this time the response was offered shyly. Obi-Wan had picked up on what else Qui-Gon had been offering. And was offering back his own tentative acceptance.

While the acceptance in becoming his Padawan was not quite as a momentous revelation as had been their mutual acceptance of their sexual attraction to each other, Qui-Gon found himself wondering which would ultimately carry the greater consequence. He rather thought both would profoundly change his life.

"Are you willing to be challenged, Padawan?"

"Oh, yes. I -" Obi-Wan suddenly stumbled. And cursed as he twisted to right himself from the shifting weight of his burden that threatened to unbalance him more than his misstep. "Ware the broken rail," warning that it was something unseen instead of just fatigue that had caused the misstep.

Actually, not instead, in addition to his fatigue. Qui-Gon could feel it building Obi-Wan just as it was building within himself. He frowned and carefully stepped over the spot which had vexed Obi-Wan. Neither of them could afford to fall, of course. It'd be too easy not to get up again. Not to mention the possibility of adding injury to self. Or one of the children.

Even just stumbling would cause difficulty as it pulled on depleted resources and taxed muscles. And they still had miles to cover. While a lightsaber's energy was long lasting, it didn't provide that much light; more missteps were inevitable. Assuming their own energy didn't just give out.

"Perhaps we should take a break, Obi-Wan, "Qui-Gon suggested. "Instead of trying to walk out we should try to find the emergency controls down here and contact someone. I am afraid that unless you have an unknown Jedi talent for restoring things - us - to normal, we're not going to be able to -- "

"You know, I hae oft wondered if that would work?"

"What would work?" Qui-Gon asked after another near minute of walking while Obi-Wan offered no follow-up to his interruption of the suggestion. The Jedi Master could sense Obi-Wan's smile at having to drag the question out of Qui-Gon. And another minute passed, another series of steps toward safety.

Or toward collapse?

"I hae often wondered whether one Jedi could convince another that he was healthy, despite some physical distress? I mean, I'm sure one could be convinced," Obi-Wan continued before Qui-Gon could frame an answer. He drew a deep breath. "But could that second Jedi then actually draw on more power from the Force than he might be able t' otherwise? Masters, o' course, try t' pull that type o' … shite all the time on their Padawan, using … guilt o' some other lever o' manipulation just short o' an actual … mind whammy t' make them go on --"

Mind whammy?

"- but could someone be so convinced both mentally an' physically as t' overcome a body's an' brain's … limitations?"

Qui-Gon wanted to draw Obi-Wan further out about his ideas of how Master's manipulated their Padawan, yet he didn't really wanted to hear that such an accusation had come from direct past experience; he already didn't think much about a'Thuul, and needed no more ammunition. He was also beginning to wonder about the pauses. Obi-Wan had foregone using the Coruscant accent and had not been that careful in choosing his words previously. Did it mean something else?

All he asked was, "Are you volunteering to try?"

He watched Obi-Wan stumble again, then the Padawan shook his head.

We may hae something … extraordinary developing between us … Master, but nae e'en Master Yoda could convince me t' keep going after I hae … bled my life out.

"Obi-Wan?" Definitely not pausing to chose his words.

Qui-Gon limped forward quickly, also now realizing that the light from Obi-Wan's saber had been wavering not just with the uneven footing of their current pathway. And realizing that the last spoken from Obi-Wan had been heard only in his mind. On purpose, or because the other could no longer speak loud enough to be heard?

Padawan? he used the link himself.

Obi-Wan made no attempt to answer or even acknowledge him, but had stopped. And was obviously not steady on his feet. Qui-Gon used the Force to shepherd him over and into the gap of the nearest alcove. Also with the Force he lowered the girls onto the floor, then took the boy and lightsaber from an unresisting Obi-Wan, setting them nearby also. Finally taking hold of Obi-Wan gently and lifting the jacket, Qui-Gon's fingers were quickly coated with blood.

Too bad the cheap bastard wouldn't spring for a vibro-blade. Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered as he fought to remain conscious and to not pull away from Qui-Gon's probing. With Qui-Gon's help he used the wall to slide down to the floor, and Qui-Gon followed to make sure he didn't fall too fast, or land too hard. Not to mention relieving the stress on his own leg.

Oh, shite, Obi-Wan's a half-formed thought was just a whisper even in Qui-Gon's mind. Yew know, that might work. And he projected the image as if not wanting to actually articulate it.

As much as Qui-Gon wanted to deny it, Obi-Wan idea would probably work. While his own leg was a cauldron of pain from the damage, it hadn't started bleeding again yet, even with the thirty or so minutes of walking with more than his full weight pressing down on the injury. A vibro-blade would have cauterized Obi-Wan's cut just as the burning metal had on Qui-Gon's leg.

Neither carried a vibro-blade, of course, but they did each have lightsabers.

You do realize the lowest training setting won't work, Obi-Wan?

There had to be an opportunity to change his mind, to say no. A training setting would burn but not deeply, nor particularly fast. Certainly not enough to boil away blood and vaporize a few layers of skin in mere seconds. Qui-Gon wanted to refuse to even discuss this idea much less execute it, but couldn't. Not if Obi-Wan was willing to propose and endure it. Obi-Wan had already lost too much blood in the mission before this one; this added blood loss was already serious, and might quickly become critical if they couldn't get it under control.

"D' it, o' just take the bairns an' leave me, Master," came his faint words, and from his ragged breathing, Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan was fighting a losing battle with consciousness. "Frankly I will nae care which yew decide in another few minutes anyway."

Qui-Gon nodded. He took a deep breath and picked up Obi-Wan's lightsaber, carefully extinguishing it even though that plunged them immediately back into total darkness. Relying on Force and touch he placed the hilt back into Obi-Wan's hands and sensed his new Padawan's eyes fly back open, despite not being able to see them.

"I'm not leaving you, Obi-Wan," he said quickly, brushing his fingers lightly across the unseen face in reassurance. "I simply feel more comfortable using my own blade. And at the moment I need every comfort I can find." He unpocketed and ignited it, still keeping one hand cupped against Obi-Wan's cheek with his thumb rubbing gently. "While I have no doubt in your skill in constructing your own, it is still a foreign object to my hands, and I would not wish to risk misusing it for something this serious."

Obi-Wan carefully raised that hand that had been holding saber and child, the one not covered in blood to caress Qui-Gon's bearded chin. The Jedi Master was instantly caught by the other's too bright eyes, by the gratitude that lit the blue-green depths, and by the ghosting shadow of anticipated pain that imagination was all too ready to provide.

By the absolution of gaze and touch.

"I would very much like the future opportunity to remove your Padawan braid, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon managed to expel out between a throat too tight to even draw a breath. He knelt closer and gently kissed Obi-Wan's palm before lowering it back down.

The eyes beneath him turned to beryl and brightened even more. "An' I would very much like the … opportunity t' love you, Qui-Gon Jinn." A swallowed breath, a pink tongue trying to lick too dry lips. "May we both live t' see our … wishes come true."

How could Qui-Gon respond to that? He had no words and in the end, could only cover those lips again with his own. This kiss was about love, not lust. And it was as if Qui-Gon had never kissed or been kissed before.

Obi-Wan's lips slackened and he turned only far enough to rub his face against Qui-Gon's beard before resting it on Qui-Gon's shoulder for a few moments. It was time. Although no amount of meditation would be enough, Obi-Wan then leaned back and reached for whatever distance from what would be happening that a trance could give, at the same time showing a level of trust Qui-Gon could only hope he'd someday have the opportunity to prove worthy of.

Before raising the saber's setting, Qui-Gon cut away all of the bandages that covered Obi-Wan's chest, lest they catch fire and spread the damage he hoped to minimize. Again he was struck with how desirable Obi-Wan looked, even injured - perhaps in part because of that vulnerability; Qui-Gon was forever looking after those who needed his help. Obi-Wan's tanned chest was all flat planes and rippling muscle, a body an athlete or a lover would covet. That it bore also the faint scars of battle and duty that most Jedi eventually carried as their only honors, made it even more cherished.

It also carried the evidence of his trials over the past several days, including a still fiercely red scar angled across his collar bone almost to his Adam's apple. And the newest one.

While Obi-Wan might have joked about the benefits of the other using a vibro-blade, Qui-Gon could only give thanks that such had not come to pass. Bone wouldn't have slowed such a blade any more than bone could a lightsaber. Had the knife used not been deflected by Obi-Wan's ribs, the length of the cut would have reached near Obi-Wan's heart. Or into it. Of course, because of the deflection, Qui-Gon would have to brand Obi-Wan at least twice to sear the twisted wound and thus add to the scars.

Briefly matching the other's trance state to calm his own mind, Qui-Gon also matched his breathing to Obi-Wan's. He might have wished to stay connected thusly, to share and try to lessen the pain he would cause as Obi-Wan had helped him with the sudden shock of his own injury, but doing so might also cause Qui-Gon to pull away too quickly with the blade upon feeling that pain. Which would need him to have to sear the wound again. And that Qui-Gon knew, he could not face having to do.

He had to stayed detached from Obi-Wan and from his own mind. His own imagination.

So with reluctance he strengthened his shields, even as he dispelled all his myriad emotions into the Force. Then increased the power level of his lightsaber. And brought the blade down.

For the first few seconds Obi-Wan stayed perfectly still, quiet. But then the heat, or pain, or perhaps just the smell of his own burning flesh penetrated his trance state. Eyes and mouth flew open. Muscles tightened. He tried to control his reaction, couldn't. And although the scream came out only as a moan, Qui-Gon instantly tossed his saber away as if holding it burned his own flesh and gathered the shaking body to him as it spasmed. Other sounds and tears were muffled by his shoulder and his own harsh breathing.

As much as he wanted only to hold, to soothe, Qui-Gon had to finish this now before the pain of what he was doing prevented him from continuing. The Jedi Master quickly and gently pushed Obi-Wan back against the wall again, this time forming a compulsion to sleep in the other's mind with the Force. He cursed himself for not putting Obi-Wan under in the first place, despite the extra time needed for recovery. He knew better. He knew a compulsion would be quicker to recover from than shock.

And safer.

This second time Qui-Gon drew his blade back into his hand, it trembled so much that even if his vision wasn't blur by his own tears, he would have had to pause to try to breath. To center and let the Force blanket him once more so he could draw on all of his experience as Jedi Master -- and as a man - to be able to place that blade once more against this beloved body.

Even unconscious Obi-Wan couldn't keep from whimpering, couldn't keep his body from trying to jerk away from the source of the discomfort that was trying to obliterate the solace of oblivion. Three seconds. Five. Eight. Finally Qui-Gon took away the blade again, this time keeping enough control so as not to blame the tool for doing what had been asked, setting the saber down gently instead tossing it away from him once more.

Then with a deep wealth of tenderness, Qui-Gon wrapped the leather jacket back around Obi-Wan's shoulder and brought the limp body up onto his lap, back against his chest. The jacket was cold, had to feel even worse to the chilled flesh under Qui-Gon's fingers, for it would be long minutes before Obi-Wan's own body could warm it. Yet the jacket would be better in the longer run than even a shirt -- had they not shredded them -- as it would provide eventual warmth without clinging to the deeply burned and blistered flesh as even silk might. But oh, how he wished for his Jedi robe now, for the warmth and the comfort it could offer to them both.

Qui-Gon soothed with his touch any place he could without causing more damage, able to take some small comfort that the other's distress did seem eased. Keeping them thusly for maybe ten minutes, he stayed content to feel the rise and fall of the body cradled within his arms, to rub his cheek against the head that lolled back against his shoulder. But after feeling the passage of a second droid through the thoroughfare just beyond their alcove, the Jedi Master also recognized a growing urgency in the Force currents surrounding them. It was time, past time, to move on.

Had it been Xan or Master Yoda, Qui-Gon could have simply reached along training bonds and tugged a little on the other's consciousness to bring him around. Surprisingly just the idea of doing something like that was enough to begin to rouse Obi-Wan. That or the glimmer of anxiety Qui-Gon had not thought to hide.

Qui-Gon instantly lowered his shields and blanketed the slowly waking mind with feelings of comfort so that if Obi-Wan didn't instantly remember what had happened, he would not pull away in fear or shock for being confined in another's grasp and injure himself further.

I will nae ken fear o' pain again when I am within your arms, Master.

Being quite prepared to be swamped by Obi-Wan's pain, the feeling of love instead caught Qui-Gon quite by surprise. It was counterpart to his own emotions and overwhelmed everything else he might have focused on. A warm glow burned through them both in an instant, emotions mirroring, doubling, then growing exponentially in a feedback loop of light. Of hope. Peace.

Even healing.

Not enough to fully cure, it was still enough to enable both of them to pull apart with thoughts of rising, though not before a quick exploration of lips and skin between questing hands and tongues. This time it was Qui-Gon who gained his feet first, ignoring the twinges of still stiffened muscles and deeper, yet lessened injury. He extended his hand to assist Obi-Wan.

Again a pressing closeness, an exploration of neck and shoulders, a hug with fingers underneath the jackets they both wore and butterfly light ghosting of fingertips over scars both old and new, on both torsos. No words, no sounds but breathing, not even coherent thoughts. Only wonder, want. Need. And then duty acknowledged simultaneously so that there were no regrets.

Still silent, Obi-Wan lifted the children again one by one, passing on the twins before gathering up the boy. For a moment it looked as if he had intended to carry his charge as if a babe this time, but the boy's long legs brushed uncomfortable close to the new burns, causing him to catch his breath. Light, however, would still be a necessity and -- one thought coming to twined minds -- so, too would it be needed as a weapon. The boy went back up over a shoulder.

"I want to see if we can find a conveyor drone, or a control junction so we might be able to call one to us." Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan back into the thoroughfare. Both of them moved slower than their usual grace, but not quite with as much difficulty as they had been before their rest.

"You be sure you dinna want t' try for the surface?"

Qui-Gon tested the possibilities, and shook his head although Obi-Wan had not turned and so could not see. "I think I would still rather work to override repair or defense commands than to tempt those who are likely still searching above."

"If nae also below. But yer Master tricks will nae work on droids." A warning and admonishment. Also simple conversation for the pleasure of keeping the connection between them active.

Qui-Gon smiled. "I do have a few other skills at my command than mind manipulation, Obi-Wan. One of which is a way around computers."

"Ah, that be fine then. It would nae be right if it were only living sentients you could wrap around your finger, my Master."

Concern spiked through Qui-Gon before he realized the comment had been intended as humor and not an accusation for pushing them both into something so quickly and so unexpectedly deep. He could feel Obi-Wan respond to the concern with a quick sending of an apology, followed by a wave of lust just as strong as the love.

I be nae so susceptible t' those kind o' tricks, Master, he sent wordlessly so that Qui-Gon would also feel the truth of his thoughts. An' yew did nothing that I dinna willingly participate in. I hae no complaints o' concerns. A sudden pause. Unless this be something yew d' nae wish?

Qui-Gon was quick to send back his own wave of reassurance. Although it seemed strange to have fallen so deeply in love in less than a day, especially when only twenty-four hours ago he had been despairing of losing Xan's love, the Jedi Master could find nothing to be ashamed or sorry about in his feelings.

"I might be concerned with what the Council is going to say when we return, Obi-Wan, but somehow I have the feeling that Master Yoda won't be all that surprised. I don't imagine there will be too many objections from them in finding we have become … friends."

A bright laugh ghosted through Qui-Gon's thoughts. If this be how you interact wit' all o' yer friends, I be quite surprised t' find you traveling alone.

Qui-Gon couldn't quite hide the hurt that although he had been traveling alone, there should have been someone with him. And how confused holding that thought up to the reality of Obi-Wan was making him. He expected a flare of jealousy or even hurt from Obi-Wan, as more of his confusion and impressions of Xanatos filled his mind, but instead found only acceptance. Perhaps a mirror of some of the confusion, but no accusation. No dismay.

We hae both expressed our willingness t' these bondings, Qui-Gon. As hae the Force, I think. Confusion be fine, expected e'en, but nae guilt. Our coming together betrays no one.

While Obi-Wan was right about having the feelings of guilt and betrayal, he was also right that they were unnecessary. Xanatos had already left him. Did the awkwardness of quick timing matter if the bonds were true -- Wait a minute. Bonds? Bondings?

Qui-Gon tested the depths between their link and noticed that which Obi-Wan had discovered first. The two of them did have more than one bond between them. Once again he was a Master with a Padawan, albeit an apprentice very close to taking his trials but after that - no, before that - now -- he had a partner. For life if he so desired. And a soul-mate, their bonds and essences ready to be braided together into one.

Whereas an earlier thought of ever taking a third Padawan had made him feel old, in this moment of enlightenment, Qui-Gon felt young, full of life, and hope, and suddenly so looking forward to the future.

Their future

It could have happened right there, but Obi-Wan abruptly offered a new awareness of something not right about to come upon them. Even so, the warning was underlined with joy, with understanding and agreement to the offered potential of the future. We hae best be mindful o' the moment, Qui-Gon.

With no alcove nearby to tuck the children into this time, the Jedi still had opportunity to set them carefully down behind them. They moved forward, side by side and ready to face whatever threat was about to unfold. Sound from some form of machinery directed their attention first, then they could hear at least two sets of footsteps that didn't sound like droids.

At once Obi-Wan extinguished his lightsaber. Although droids would be at no disadvantage, if being led or followed by humans, the darkness might at least give Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan first opportunity to spot the newcomers, as they should be needing to travel with lights themselves.

Indeed it was so. Maintenance workers. The lights they carried were bright; the Jedi had warning of their approach long before their own source of light might have been noticed. The brightness bounced out from beyond a corner, as did the sounds. Now distinct words could be heard over the hum of machinery, from two voices, locked in an argument and complaining of having to deal with what was probably some stupid kids come down for an opportunity to tryst.

Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan stifle a laugh at how close part of that thought could have been. The Jedi Master put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and they moved slightly more forward along the wall. I will see if these two are susceptible to my Master tricks, he offered quickly. Stay here out of sight and --

Nae, Master. The image that came with that denial was of how Qui-Gon looked right now without the lens of love or lust. With hands and jacket covered in Obi-Wan's blood, and a couple of additional streaks across his face and elsewhere. They will think you a creature of darkness, or at least a danger.

Scaring them away could be --

You will nae scare the droid. An' these be from security, nae maintenance.

Offered with such conviction, Qui-Gon didn't question how his new Padawan knew this. What do you suggest?

I look more like a victim than aggressor --

No! Qui-Gon's denial exploded from him before he could realize what he had done. He didn't need to see to know what expression quickly darkened Obi-Wan's face, and could only hang his head down in sudden guilt.

Nae because I am yer Padawan o' t' be yer lover, Qui-Gon? Tell me truly o' I be neither!

Qui-Gon thought he knew pain when he had left his Master's side for the first steps taken in his own knighthood years past, leaving behind a life he had loved for one he could no longer predict. Or when he had stood aside himself for his first Padawan to take those same steps. When he watched Xanatos grow and make mistakes that he could have prevented, but knew that his duty as a Master also meant letting the other have that experience. When Xan had left him, purportedly for a short time but which Qui-Gon had finally come to realize meant forever. In seeing/feeling the pain he had given Obi-Wan by his lightsaber and hand, necessary though it had been. But all of that pain paled into nothingness as he was caught between the pain of the thought of losing Obi-Wan by another's hand or his own.

Both! The thought nearly strangled Qui-Gon in pushing it out. I know it is wrong. That you can - that I must -- Just go! A sigh contained, but not so well the threat of tears. And take care, my Obi-Wan. Please.

With no sense of satisfaction at having forced that confession, Obi-Wan slipped away with the barest sound of something hitting the ground near Qui-Gon's feet. The Jedi Master knew Obi-Wan not to be the type to gloat over a victory since that meant another must lose, even in things unimportant, so there was no such feeling now. In fact, there was only sorrow and regret. Much as Qui-Gon felt.

He also knew that Obi-Wan was right. If they were going to be able to work - and love - together, it would need be as near to equal as there could be with the years and experience that separated them. Obi-Wan would need make his own mistakes, take his own risks, just as Qui-Gon still would. Even if those risks meant pain. Or worse. They were Jedi. And that was not just what they were, but who they were. Trained to stand against the Darkness, taught that sometimes that stand might be made alone.

There is no death, there is only the Force. Simple words, comforting thought. But not really.

Qui-Gon did not have to strain to hear Obi-Wan's exclamation when Obi-Wan moved around the corner and his shadow was then all the Jedi Master could see. In a voice breathless and with a tone higher, younger sounding than he normally spoke, Obi-Wan also held the broader accent of a native Havenite. Qui-Gon could also easily imagine the softening of Obi-Wan's posture and presence, a physical showing of vulnerability that the Master had only so far seen as a hint in the other's eyes. Along with the blood and bruises obvious in the glimpses of bare chest under the leather, at least one smudge of blood also against his cheek from where Qui-Gon had touched him, the others would be completely taken in.

Just a hint of fear, vulnerability or submission, then Kenobi would be eaten alive by the predators seeking such a delectable morsel. Or he would have protectors lining up around the block to take care of him.

Kicking something as he moved forward a few steps to be close enough to help if the others reacted to the former thought, a thrill of fear cat-walked down Qui-Gon's spine to then coil in his stomach. Kneeling, he felt Obi-Wan's jacket beneath his fingertips. Yes, its absence would make the Padawan look even younger and more vulnerable. Defenseless. The fear then tightened as he touched something else within the jacket. Obi-Wan's lightsaber.

"Maker's eyes, boy! What attacked you?"

Above the sounds of surprise, Qui-Gon used the Force to hear at least one weapon being drawn by those newly come, of the safety being slid off, and the sudden increase in breaths being taken. He sensed that Obi-Wan was projecting an aura of fear and pain only partially feigned, and it was all Qui-Gon could do to keep his distance still behind this corner which kept him from their view. These men were not predators. But someone was. Also nearby.

Through their reopened link Qui-Gon could see as one of the men approached Obi-Wan, while Obi-Wan's shadow showed the Padawan bent forward, hand against thigh as if to catch his breath. The other security officer was staying back, standing slightly behind and to the side of a massively built droid. Qui-Gon could assess the real potential of a threat there, yet that droid was not the source of their building concern. The droid was subordinate to the men, not the other way around and would not attack unless ordered. Or in defense of being attacked.

Which meant there was something - someone - more.

The first man had reached Obi-Wan. He placed a hand on the bare shoulder whose trembling was again only partially feigned. Cold and reaction. Not fear, but Obi-Wan thoughts mirrored Qui-Gon's in the sense of dread -

"Dammit, no!"

The words were torn from two throats, the danger seen in a shared pair of eyes. Force crackled between Master and Padawan, gathering to respond to will even as minds and bodies did. In an enhanced run Qui-Gon sped around the corner, lightsaber drawn and igniting even as he also held Obi-Wan's quiescent one. He would have thrown the hilt, at least made it easily available, but Obi-Wan was suddenly in no position to claim it.

The turn had Qui-Gon coming into a new corridor that was the top of a T-intersection. The security forces had come from the stem on the left. Beyond them, from a right-sided junction and in direct line to all four men and the droid, were a handful of others. Two of these new men carried hand-held launchers like that which had taken out their ground transport.

Obi-Wan had also moved with Force enhanced speed. A twist and a flip had taken Obi-Wan beyond the man who had reached to help him. Twin pushes with Force had both security guards falling, sliding sideways toward the branch they had so recently entered this long corridor from. Almost before he had turned from the guards, Obi-Wan also pushed the droid backward, then tried to direct it to the face the threat. But the droid had picked up Qui-Gon's footsteps or heartbeat or body heat first and was interpreting the Master's movement or speed as a danger. Given the conflict with Obi-Wan's interference to its movements, plus its programming to counter being turned or directed against its will, the droid let loose with all manner of security devices, both defensive and offensive. And in all directions.

The droid's right manipulative armature had been pointing toward Qui-Gon and now pulses of energy streaked toward him. Qui-Gon deflected those first beams upward and ignored the secondary volleys as the droid's spinning now placed them out of alignment to endanger the Jedi Master. A net had followed the stun blasts from another armature, however, as did sonics from sets of amplifiers. Had he been Obi-Wan's size, the dive Qui-Gon took forward would have enabled him to avoid the net completely. Instead it tangled about his legs which, combined with enough sonics to stop a rancor, sent him crashing downward. He lost breath and sight, but neither for more than a second. A few more moments were also lost in cutting through the net before he could regain his feet and see what else was happening.

Obi-Wan had taken three steps up the nearest wall and was using the metal surface as a springboard to flip back over the droid as it flailed past him on out of control stabilizers. Fletchettes of rubber pellets had peppered where Obi-Wan had been and continued to spray across the corridor to impact against the two men from security. Then the Padawan was dropped to the floor as a localized gravity field swept out to augment the sonics and the three sets of stun beams.

And the first missile from the new arrivals was inbound their direction from no more than one hundred feet beyond.

Obi-Wan's idea with the droid had been sound, he just hadn't had the time or power to implement it fully.

Qui-Gon did.

Even as he was rolling back to his feet, Qui-Gon gathered up the remains of the net in one hand and pushed again at the droid with the Force, but this time with the effort of a Master. Despite weighing hundreds of pounds, it crashed onto its front and continued to slide. Its heat and movement attracted the missile before it could lock on any of the men. The impact between came quickly and the explosion sent shrapnel out, but too far away to hit Qui-Gon or any of the others.

Still, neither Obi-Wan nor the security guards were moving.

Obi-Wan?

Qui-Gon could sense his Padawan was conscious, but barely. And in no condition to move after crashing into the ground from a height of ten or so feet from that temporary field of five gravities. While Qui-Gon desperately wanted to push Obi-Wan to safety down the branching corridor - or carry him thusly - there was no time. So Qui-Gon ignored his heart and went with his instincts, only dropping the other's saber nearby as he sprinted past without even looking down.

Get the guards to help you get the children to the spaceport.

And strengthened his shields against Obi-Wan's muzzy denial.

The Force thrown net couldn't stop the next missile, of course, but enough of the steel reinforced fibers remained intact so as to encumber those who had set it off with their launchers. The first missile had pretty well destroyed the droid but there were enough remnants of heated metal for Qui-Gon to scatter before the second, much like the chaff of an airship's defensive measures. And there were enough to send the missile away from its directed path which gave Qui-Gon time to override its trajectory with Force and will. He directed it to impact against a bulkhead, the one that he raced past, knowing the explosion would seal off the corridor -- the attackers and himself -- from those he had left behind.

Qui-Gon! Noooooo!

For a moment the past engulfed Obi-Wan and he was once again trapped despite the warmth of the hand that was tugging him away from the debris, despite the urgency of the voices beside him. And the voice in his head. It was that silent voice that finally reached him and brought him out of the memory surge, for the voice was his own. And it wasn't. His words - Jedi words - but spoken in another's voice and to a place that had never heard another before this moment. The voice cut through the threat of Darkness that had ever been just beyond the edges of his mind since that first darkness five years ago before and during a'Thuul's death.

He was no longer sixteen, surrounded by slabs of walls and broken furniture. His Master did not lie just beyond his reach, dying, screaming, blaming him for not being able to help. Blaming him for knowing, yet not doing anything. He was twenty-one.

Nor was this the wreckage of an air transport exploding in mid-flight and crashing. He was not pinned helplessly between the flight panel and seat, the forward view port shattered all over his chest and another Master trapped no more than five feet away yet also out of reach. Dying, screaming. But not blaming. And not knowing.

Still, another Master was trapped beyond his physical reach. But miraculously Qui-Gon Jinn was somehow not beyond his mental reach. So even though the Jedi Master - his Master -- was unconscious, Obi-Wan had a sense of his well-being, and knew that unless the others who threatened them awakened first, Qui-Gon would be able to defend himself, be able to survive. And this time Obi-Wan could help.

Allowing the one who touched him to sit him down, to even shine a light into his eyes, for a moment Obi-Wan also allowed his would-be rescuer to draw the wrong conclusions. He responded to neither the light nor the frantic questions. All of his energy, although not what he should have been able to draw, what he needed to be able to draw but still more than he could have hoped for, was directed outward beyond the buckled remains of the underground passage to the one who had managed to touch his soul.

All he needed to do was ensure that Qui-Gon awoke before his enemies, then Obi-Wan could return to his own tasks and self. To the security guards. And children.

His concentration broke when the security guards tried to lift him, one of them brushing against the burns across his side and the broken ribs just above. Agony, nausea, for a moment Obi-Wan collapsed forward in trying to protect injuries. Hands reached again for him and pulled him upward with a frantic gentleness. But the hands were not Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan pulled away from them, letting his anger/pride battle down the nausea, confusion and threat of unconsciousness.

"M'alright," he rasped, using the wall to hold himself up although his surroundings spun in a kaleidoscope of nauseating images and colors. While he could feel doubt from the other, and knowing it wasn't exactly true, it was true enough. He could stand on his own. Could probably even summon his lightsaber to his hand with the Force. Obi-Wan refrained, however, reluctant to admit to being Jedi and knowing that unease stemmed more from having been seen as vulnerable than from paranoia. Instead he kicked the weapon Qui-Gon had left with him up with his foot and grabbed it, trying not to bend or twist and give impetus to the fire that was trying to consume him from within. And without explaining what it was he now held onto tightly. Even though they might have seen the same type of weapon in Qui-Gon's hands, they also might not have.

"We've got to call this in," the nearest security guards was saying. "Get a crew down here and get you up top, boy, to a med center --"

"M'alright," Obi-Wan repeated, only now he realizing he had barely whispered it before, and that he was slurring his words yet not because of using any accent. The two men hovered, and one of them reached again for his arm, this time not letting go. The guard kept tugging, trying to get Obi-Wan to move, to get him to slip that arm over the guard's shoulder. And to look out with something more than tearing, half-closed eyes.

Great. Not only had he bruised every part of his body previously untouched in being taken down by the combination of sonics and five gravities, he had to give himself a concussion. Maybe that was why he was hearing voices within his mind, whereas before he had only ever been able to sense an echo of emotion, even with it being Master Yoda doing the sending. But no, he had heard Qui-Gon there before the fall.

Hadn't he?

Confusion and nausea clutched again at Obi-Wan and he dropped jarringly to his knees and hands, banging his palm against his lightsaber almost hard enough to break his wrist. Fuck, this wasn't working. It would be so easy to give in, to let go. But then he couldn't keep feeding Qui-Gon energy -

Oh.

Fuck again.

It wasn't fair. Twice before he had been willing to expend even his life-force to keep a Jedi Master alive, first for the one he had held in respect but had never truly liked, then for one he liked and respected, but didn't really know. And now, here, when he had found someone worth dying for beyond a sense of duty, his sense of responsibility and own needs wouldn't let him. He had to hope Qui-Gon recovered enough because he had to stop sending -

Funny. He'd never expected that trying to shield from another would hurt. In all of his previous experiences, the pain had always come from quite the opposite of interactions, from the opening of shields and letting another in, not in closing him out. But there was definitely pain there --

"You've got a concussion, boy," his personal nightingale said the instant Obi-Wan set his shields and brought up his head to turn semi-alert eyes on his surroundings as he directed healing energies into his own body instead of Qui-Gon's.

"One of your pupils is completely blown."

"Should see it from m'side," Obi-Wan murmured. Immediately he thanked the Force that the only lighting around them came from the glowstick his companion's partner carried. Had they managed to turn on full overhead lighting, he would have likely been blinded.

"You think you can move now, boy? Ready to let us get you some help?"

Obi-Wan remembered not to nod, even though not doing so didn't really keep his head from not wanting to fall off. "Yesss." With help, Obi-Wan was able to gain his feet again. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt loop lest a repeat of his fall had him breaking his damn hand this time. Or the weapon. He'd not be able to remove it as quickly as if he wore it with his normal tunics, of course, nor even from where he had kept it in a pocket of the jacket. But, so far, he had received enough advanced warning …

"'M not alone, yew know." He forgot to worry about sounding like a native. " We hae t' get t' the others."

The bairns.

"Uh, boy -"

"Ben," he snapped.

"Uh, right. Ben." The security guard paused and Obi-Wan had a moment's regret about his harshness.

What had he expected to be called after all?

"Ah, Ben, you know that we can't get to your friend from here, right?" The other's words were being spoken a little too slowly. As if he was talking to a skittish animal. Or dangerous threat.

Obi-Wan couldn't keep from closing his eyes, both from the thought of having the other so wary of him, and from the thought of having to abandon Qui-Gon. Almost instantly his mind conjured up an image of the Jedi Master. It wasn't the look just before their most recent kiss - although that was a memory Obi-Wan would keep forever. It wasn't even that look of absolute wonder and absolute acceptance when they had both realized they had bonded, and that they had become Master and Padawan.

No, it was the man who had laughed at Obi-Wan's remark about if this task had been easy they wouldn't have needed the Jedi. That had been the look of a face not used to having something to laugh about.

Qui-Gon deserved laughter.

"S'there 'nother route?"

"Well, yes, but -"

"Can we get t' it? O' t' a contact point 'n yew can direct someone else t' reach him?"

Even with a yes answer, could someone get there soon enough?

"Yes to either," the partner answered. "But because this was a security call, the maintenance droids will not be responding until we authorize it so it would take time to clear the area. I can order in another security team -"

"Make sure they be well protected," Obi-Wan warned. "There be more … aggressors than jussst -" Damn, his speech, thoughts and accent were getting worse. Not to mention the unbelievable headache that he found himself with. He'd actually almost forgotten about the knife wound for a moment.

"Who are they, Ben? It this connected to the explosion on the street? Why are they trying to kill you?"

All damn good questions, for all that he really couldn't answer them. The children should be worth more alive in ransom for money or for favors. Could there have been a reason they had fled their guardian beyond sheer precociousness?

"I dinna ken," he answered truthfully, if incompletely. "But there be three more wit' usss. Kidssss …" He pointed a hand, now trembling badly, back the direction Qui-Gon had come from.

"Kids? Children!" The partner slid past, forgetting or not caring that he held the only activated source of light.

In the sudden dark Obi-Wan couldn't move fast enough to keep up, even with the aid of the one security guard. On the other hand, the dark would work as a better excuse than uneven ground when he stumbled again, nearly sending them both crashing down. Over his guide's startled oath and quick actions to steady them, Obi-Wan could hear the other guard find the children and overcome with relief, Obi-Wan stopped. Although he hadn't heard/sensed anything amiss from there previous, he also discovered that since shielding from Qui-Gon, he was having trouble reading the Force. He easily might have missed something that had threatened the children. Or missed if they had simply awoken and wandered off.

But all three were still there, so he hadn't failed.

At the partner's urging and Obi-Wan's own agreement, his guide left him propped up against the wall and hurried around the corner to help. This suited Obi-Wan just fine and he took this unexpected opportunity to focus his senses inward. Despite how he felt, the knife wound was still the worst of his injuries, not only in terms of ongoing pain, but in continuing trauma to his body. Certainly the outer edges had been sufficiently cauterized, but something still/again bled internally. Not a lot, not yet life-threatening, but management of it would take much of his energy to keep it in that state while he continued to move.

And then there was the concussion. Other than the slurred speech, blurred vision and a pounding headache which had him reeling alternately between light-headedness and gut-wrenching nausea, it was workable; relatively minor in scope and danger. The low lighting kept the eye strain to a minimum and it wasn't as if his companions really expected him to do much speaking. The headache was troublesome, but training and experience could compensate for his sluggish rapport with the Force if they were confronted again.

He hoped.

It wasn't that the Force was cut off from him, just his usual ability to channel it. Which meant no excessive speeds or acrobatics. That of course, suited his bruised body and aching head just fine.

All in all, things could have been much worse. Without the aid of the security guards, he would have had to awaken the children in order to get them out. Now he only had to ensure that the guard didn't.

Obi-Wan was surprised at how long it was taking them to find a control panel with a working communications relay. Or maybe it only seemed a long time. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even really remember starting to walk again, to follow after the others as they carried the children. He needed to use a hand against the wall to steady himself, and to work at keeping the jacket from slipping off his shoulders but he was moving. When did he get the jacket back?

Oh, one of the other two must have found it. Had he done so himself, he would have slipped his chilled arms within instead of just draping it over them. But to do so right now would involve having to first move his hand from the wall, to twist or shrug the jacket off since he wasn't all too sure about being able to raise his hand from higher than where it already was at waist height. In such an effort the jacket would probably drop to the ground before he could reach it. And if he had to bend over to pick it back up, he'd probably just throw up over it, then wouldn't be able to wear it at all.

"Ben?"

The two he had been following had stopped, but he hadn't noticed. Until he felt a hand reaching for his arm, stopping him from running into one of them.

"Just rest here for a moment, Ben. We've got a tram on its way."

Obi-Wan was pleased. He had been right, there was maintenance equipment down here for humans. He wondered if Qui-Gon would be proud.

"Rest, Ben. It is time to stop moving."

The words were said a bit more loudly, more harshly, and Obi-Wan only then realized he was fighting against the hand that held him, though not with much effort. Surely he could have broken the grip if he had needed to. Wanted to. But he couldn't stop moving. If he did, he would fall. Or the darkness would come. And he wouldn't be able to hear the voice in his head that sounded angry. And concerned. Just like he imagined his mother's voice to sound like. Except it wasn't a woman's voice -

Although he hadn't recognized hearing the noise that had sparked it, Obi-Wan was suddenly drenched in the fear that came from his two companions. They had heard something and he tried very hard to shut off the voice in his mind so that he too could hear what had scared them. But the voice was getting louder, nearer. And suddenly that was okay. Because the voice was Qui-Gon's. And he was coming, was almost here -

Without acknowledging to even himself what he was doing, Obi-Wan twisted away from the one who was trying to steady him and tore the lightsaber and belt loop from his pants. Then threw himself backwards onto his shoulders and into a full roll, springing up on the second revolution. He had put a good fifteen feet between him and the two security guards, between him and the noise they were reacting to. He didn't register the increase of fear on their faces as he ignited his weapon, for he could only see the guns they had brought up and would be aiming at Qui-Gon.

No time, nor enough energy left for a Force push. And he'd have to deflect the guards' shots so that they didn't move back toward their targets since it wasn't really their fault. Or back toward the children laying together on the bench by the computer terminal. Or the walls and cause a repeat of what Qui-Gon had done even though the result couldn't be as big since these were only guns, not launchers. But any explosion was bad. People died in explosions. Left him trapped -

Obi-Wan!

Qui-Gon's call came just before the partner yelled for Ben, and Obi-Wan couldn't turn both directions at once. He felt a tearing in his side, then darkness, the floor, and just managed to have the presence of mind to let go of his lightsaber. Consciousness clung despite needing to give in, for he had directed all of his will to keep going; the children were his responsibility despite the kindness of the guards. Despite Qui-Gon's presence. He couldn't give up, he couldn't fail yet again, he -

Sleep.

Some time later the buzz in Obi-Wan's mind finally resolved itself into words. And a hum he recognized eventually as that of a magnetic rail in operation. Well, that explained the sensation of movement though his body was stilled, both with his own intent and from the arms that cradled him in a protective, wonderful warmth.

"Ben?" and from the same, but silent voice, Obi-Wan?

This time the conflicting names centered him as they both came from Qui-Gon. Ben had been with the security guards, so that meant they were here too, that Qui-Gon had found out the name's use and was abiding by Obi-Wan's cover despite him having given himself away by drawing his lightsaber on them.

It's okay, Obi-Wan. They understand you were only intending to protect me.

As wonderful as Qui-Gon's words felt -- along with the man's arms, hands -- Obi-Wan ignored the siren's lull of sleep this comfort of being held by Qui-Gon served to reinforce. He strove to open his eyes. Then bit back a groan at his success. Yes, overhead lighting was every bit the problem he had earlier expected. Before he could close them again, one of the hands about his chest moved and shielded his face.

"Thanks," he unsuccessfully tried to whisper, then repeated, thanks.

Give yourself another moment to adjust, Obi-Wan. I've dealt with some of the symptoms of your concussion, but I am not a Healer as you know, not even as skilled as Masters Yaddle or Koth. And in concentrating on that trauma, I've been unable to deal with the others you've managed to worsen --

S'alright, Qui-Gon. And Obi-Wan realized he spoke the truth. Without the pounding of the headache and with only mild dizziness, everything else was back to feeling fairly manageable. Even the brightness, once he blinked back a few tears.

"We are about five minutes out from the spaceport," Qui-Gon offered out loud.

Obi-Wan gave a tired grin to the guard who twisted around in his seat and offered a wide smile of his own at Qui-Gon's words.

"You are one lucky fellow, Ben," the guard said with a shake of his head. "If Boblie or I had known what it was you held in your hand, I'm afraid we would have fired out of sheer fright when we first saw you. Neither of us had ever met a Jedi. Kinda thought you were just creatures of myth."

"Some of us are." Qui-Gon tightened his grip around Obi-Wan's chest in a reflexive need of and to comfort, though not to the point of pain. The Jedi Master also leaned his head over Obi-Wan's shoulder, his beard rubbing against Obi-Wan's cheek. Every place they possibly could, their bodies were touching. "But some of us have lived through just about every one of his extra lives today."

The guard nodded at Qui-Gon's hoarse words. "I think you both are short a few lives, my friend, " he said before turning back around.

I am not a cat, Obi-Wan protested despite the purr that threatened to rumble from his throat in response to the sensations Qui-Gon's fingers were coaxing from his skin. Pain was rapidly becoming something only vaguely recalled. As was the ability to reach his higher thought processes.

Just trying to remind your body that not all touches need mean hurt, came Qui-Gon's amused thoughts at Obi-Wan's drifting.

While it was really much more of a massage than foreplay, the influx of fiery trails of healing energies instead of a sensitizing of his erogenous zones, the end result would rapidly become the same if Qui-Gon didn't stop.

Before Obi-Wan could put this into words, Qui-Gon seemed to realize that his Force touches were building to a pleasure overload that was almost as intense as had been the pain. Of course, the Jedi Master might also be concerned with his own responses to what he had been doing, which Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile a little about. Qui-Gon stilled his fingers until Obi-Wan was only being held, then even withdrew much of his mind behind a set of light shields. This wasn't nearly as painful as before when Obi-Wan had needed to shut Qui-Gon out completely; this time Obi-Wan knew he could breach the shields with less than a thought. And that he would be welcome to do so.

But not quite yet. Obi-Wan wanted first to explore this new feeling between them. It was more like the sustaining pulse of a homing beacon, the way Obi-Wan had always imagined a training bond between a Master and Apprentice should feel like. If he needed or was needed, the link would reopen, but for now it simply was. A quiet, steady reassurance that he wasn't alone.

That he would never be alone again.

He couldn't help but arch a little into the body that held him.

This is how your bond with a'Thuul should have been, Qui-Gon's thoughts came gently back in answer to the question Obi-Wan hadn't realized he had asked, but had needed to know the answer to -- for quite some time. But ours is also deeper than traditional between Master and Padawan as the fact that there may be a physical attraction between us has also become part of it.

May be an attraction? Obi-Wan tried to hold in his laughter since the others in the tram wouldn't have any idea he and Qui-Gon were conversing. And since he had a suspicion laughing would hurt. He managed, and sobered quickly enough anyway when Qui-Gon didn't respond.

Is the attraction between us wrong, Master? Having spent so few months in the Temple since being chosen as a Padawan, he knew little about how things were between other Jedi pairings. All of his time had been spent alone with Master a'Thuul, then with the members of the Council. And Obi-Wan had known from the beginning that nothing about any of those Masters or his relationships with them were normal, for all that being with the members of the Council had finally let him begin to feel some of the same sense of belonging he could sense coming from other Jedi.

Obi-Wan could feel as Qui-Gon tasted the emotion of his question, could feel the Jedi Master search for an answer within self and the Force. For a moment Obi-Wan feared that he had done something wrong, that this bonding was wrong or - worse - unwanted, despite Qui-Gon's earlier words. And feared that this feeling of closeness would be taken away from him. He knew he could put this day and Qui-Gon behind him, could go on, for that was what he had been trained to do, and had always so managed in the past -

No, Obi-Wan, don't shut this away. And for the first time since they had met, Obi-Wan got a full sense of the man who now held him, including the surprise that such a bond had formed even though Qui-Gon had figured his days of training were over. He also felt the pleasure the other had found in accepting not only a Padawan, but someone who could become lover, could become something much more. Mixed throughout those feelings, winding through the amusement and resignation, the excitement, concern and lust, was the absolute conviction that this bond between them was right and would fill the holes that both of them had in their souls.

And that it was necessary for the plans that the Force had for their Futures.

Although that last thought from Qui-Gon was almost frightening, when Obi-Wan found that Qui-Gon intended to fight the Council if he needed, in order to keep them together, that Qui-Gon would willingly fight anything else - everything else if necessary -- including their insecurities, in that one moment, Obi-Wan realized he would be forever content to stand at this man's side. He had indeed found someone worth dying for. And even more so, someone he would do everything in his power to live for.

"This is as close as the tunnels reach the spaceport, Master Jedi," Boblie suddenly announced, having no idea, of course, of what he had interrupted. The guard brought the tram to a halt and turned in his seat. "Once you get up to the lift and to street level, you will have about half a mile to cover to reach the terminal building, then however long to get to your ship. Are you sure you don't want us to come with you or to have a transport waiting up top to take you onto the field?"

Obi-Wan had obviously missed at least one conversation during his time unconscious; Qui-Gon had told their allies enough information to get their cooperation, but little more since there were too many unknowns about those who had tried to kill the children. While Obi-Wan was confident these two could be trusted, he didn't care to see them endangered, which had a decent chance of happening if they stayed involved. Even though he wouldn't have minded the idea of a little back-up, he was glad to hear Qui-Gon turn down their participation beyond this point. Obi-Wan had begun to develop another itch between his shoulder blades that bespoke of pending trouble, but it was nothing imminent.

What are you sensing?

Qui-Gon certainly wasn't disregarding his bad feelings. But after so many years of having them ignored or discounted, Obi-Wan wasn't sure he was ready to trust them himself.

Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.

Don't center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan, came Qui-Gon's steady serenity again. It is enough that you are disquieted. We will both be more cautious because of it, and a certain period of high alert, while draining, can be maintained with little consequence.

Obi-Wan nodded and lifted his hands to press tightly against the arms that held him, then began to slide from the embrace in obvious regret. It felt as wonderful to be believed as it was to be held. And trusted. Not having to worry if he was wrong. As Qui-Gon had said, the only consequence would be a little more tension and strain. If he was wrong, that would be the end of it, no worrying about misreading the currents and causing another some distress.

And if he was right, well then, having that extra bit of adrenaline to draw upon could only help.

Once he had exited, he encouraged Qui-Gon to use his shoulder to steady himself as the Jedi Master also slid out of the tram. For an instant they both leaned on each other as stiffened muscles and half-forgotten aches came back in full force. Obi-Wan hadn't yet tried to determine how long he'd been unconscious; if the way had been straight from where Qui-Gon had rejoined him to this point outside the spaceport, it could have been no more than ten or fifteen minutes. But the state of both his stiffness and recovery spoke of it being longer, more like twenty minutes, possibly even thirty. Not enough to do a thing about how tired he felt, but at least long enough to have some benefits regardless.

Even if it had been an hour, which Obi-Wan refused to believe, that would put it four hours before sunrise at the latest. Which should mean the terminal building would be next to empty, and only a few night watchmen or private security walking the perimeters around the ship berths. Unlike most of the Inner Core planets, Haven wasn't never-sleeping. Whenever nightfall hit the planet, commerce, travel and work slowed down drastically, even to the point of arrivals and departures on and off planet.

So, few bystanders to get caught up within trouble, if it reoccurred. And no passage off planet until the morning, unless Qui-Gon had his own ship.

Not mine, but under contract with the Council, nevertheless.

Qui-Gon was right. It was somewhat disconcerting to have another anticipate or know your own thoughts. But also damn convenient. At least so far.

And a pilot?

Qui-Gon nodded as he pulled away and moved back over to the tram to gently begin to wake the children before Obi-Wan could stop him. Oh, this would not be good.

Unfortunately the pilot is undoubtedly sleeping or spending his fees on his furlough and is likely not available to us; he was not expecting to have to fly again for a couple of days. He did give me the access codes to the ship, so we can at least get these little ones safely behind its defensive shields.

It was not going to be the children who needed defensive shielding. At least not yet -

Sure enough, the first thing out of little Elsbeth was a scream, which woke her sister Bethany faster than Qui-Gon's touch. Another scream, and then Daed's cursing. Which, for a eight year old, was rather impressive. And embarrassing. At least the eight year old Daed proved smart enough not to take swing at someone four times his size as he had when it had been Obi-Wan who had approached him the day before.

"Whoa, little ones," Qui-Gon said in a surprisingly gentle voice, his hand moving in front of their eyes to catch their attention. "Quiet and calm. We are not -"

Obi-Wan could have told him that a typical mind trick didn't work on these young ones, at least not until they had been tired out sufficiently on excitement and food. After more than three hours of enforced sleep, tired was the last thing they were. Excited, yes. Scared, not really, not after recognizing the uniforms of the security guards that had backed away from the tram in mock horror.

But not before Bethany had stolen one of their stun rods -

End Part 2
To Part 3