Destinies Delayed: Part 3

Instantly Obi-Wan was moving back to Qui-Gon's side and stepped up into the tram. He used a forearm to shift the rod upward before it had impacted against Qui-Gon in a place that would fell even a Jedi Master, and only barely stopped himself from slapping the grinning ten year old with his other hand.

"You do not ever threaten a Jedi Master, Bethany Kalin Ev'stam!" he scolded harshly in the same accent they would have heard from their parents or their uncle. He wrenched the rod away and flipped it back toward the security guard, not really caring whether the other caught it or not. Obi-Wan was trying hard to keep charitable thoughts since the two men had proved so helpful, when all he wanted to do was chastise them for allowing a child to take one of their weapons away from them. And, of course, he had moved without thinking, reawakening the pain in his side despite all Qui-Gon had done to help him relax and forget about it.

"He is a Jedi Master?" In a tone that would have done her mother proud, all of Elsbeth's breeding and privilege breathed scorn in those simple words although she was too young to quite manage the accompanying look. "Well at least he is old enough."

"And tall enough," Bethany added in a voice just as twin to her sister's as her looks.

"And doesn't have a baby's braid," came from their younger brother.

Instead of the amusement Obi-Wan had half expected, he could feel a fury radiating out from Qui-Gon. Once he realized it was for the insult to a Padawan - to his Padawan - Obi-Wan could let go of his own anger, and actually found himself abruptly hard pressed to keep a laugh from his lips. He had never had someone feel insulted on his behalf before.

Obi-Wan!

He knew the harshness wasn't directed at him so much as the circumstance. Qui-Gon was angry and frustrated, and knew he couldn't take it out on the children.

Just stay glowering at them, Master. They respect intimidation. Obi-Wan turned his own glare on the children despite the lightness he was now feeling.

"Now, all three of you will be quiet as Master Jinn has directed, and climb out of the tram. But first you will thank the Security officers for their assistance and apologize for stealing."

"But I thought -"

Obi-Wan held a finger up toward Bethany. "No words other than thank you, I'm sorry, and good-bye, young lady!" he thundered.

Although no evidence showed in Qui-Gon's stoic expression, Obi-Wan could feel a thread of reluctant amusement finally begin to filter through the other's thoughts. Then his surprise when all three children did exactly as Obi-Wan had ordered.

You are quite good at that, Obi-Wan.

It took Obi-Wan a moment to recognize the new emotion Qui-Gon was sending, helplessness, since that was something he hadn't expected the other to ever feel, much less project. A few glimpses of the Jedi Master's own experiences with children came next to offer a greater understanding.

In this they had much in common, despite Qui-Gon's compliment.

He shrugged. Orders and thunder had worked well enough for planetary leaders and diplomats who had behaved like children … Obi-Wan knew there were better ways, he just didn't know what they were.

Not your failing, came Qui-Gon's quick reassurance as Obi-Wan's thoughts moved closer to brooding. To embarrassment over how he was presenting himself in front of the Jedi Master - his Master.

The children interpreted Obi-Wan's next gesture as an order to disembark, which they did with little protest or mutterings.

Of course, Qui-Gon had meant the failure to be Master a'Thuul's, but Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure he was ready to lay any of his personal difficulties and insecurities to an inappropriate Master. His time with a'Thuul had been harsh, but it had also helped temper him into someone much better prepared for the treacheries and betrayals of life. Nor, had he been paired with someone else, did he sense his path would have led him here, to Haven and this momentous meeting with Qui-Gon Jinn, which he wouldn't have traded for years of ease.

It was bad enough that he could second guess the future. He didn't need to start thinking about how the past might have been.

Qui-Gon sent him an apology laced with conflicting thoughts. Despite feelings Obi-Wan might have for his former Master, it was obvious Qui-Gon was also not ready to give up his own opinions on how his Padawan had been poorly raised and ill-used. Qui-Gon had also recognized the disquiet Obi-Wan felt because of this, since he didn't feel the same way about Master a'Thuul at all, and for his participation in that disquiet, Qui-Gon was sorry.

"We will be climbing up a short access ladder then taking a lift to the surface," Qui-Gon explained to the silent and mostly still children. "Daed, you will go up first, with Jedi Kenobi right behind you. Elsbeth, you next, then Bethany, then me. You have nothing to be frightened about, and if you get into any difficulties, just ask one of us to help. We won't let you fall. Do you understand?"

Obi-Wan watched all three children nod. Daed looked even a little excited; climbing anything but stairs was probably something they got in trouble for. The fact that there might be difficulties would only make it more exciting, and would play on the children's desires to prove they were capable.

Hells of the Sith, the children were probably more capable at climbing right now than he was thanks to that stupid move with the stun rod. But he hid that thought from Qui-Gon and gestured again to his charges, leaving it to Qui-Gon to say their good-byes to the guards.

The access ladder wasn't quite as short as he had hoped from Qui-Gon's offhand comment about it. The ladder only went half the distance to the ceiling, but that was still a good twenty feet. Above it was a set of doors that undoubtedly opened into some sort of service conveyance. Likely there were other lifts that would come all the way down to this bottom level, but it seemed that none were near the spaceport.

Any changes in order, Master? he sent quickly as Qui-Gon joined them and also saw that things were a little different than expected.

I would prefer one of us to call the lift, but I fear having all three children between us would allow them to reinforce their own fears. Or set off a tendency to misbehave in an attempt to tease or goad each other into doing something reckless.

Obi-Wan nodded, having already seen too much evidence of that kind of behavior. I'll hae Daed stop at the top then. I should be able t' climb over him. Precocious though they be, we just will nae give them time to get into any trouble.

Sounds good, Qui-Gon smiled, then turned away from Obi-Wan.

"Up you go, Daed." And the Jedi Master lifted the boy up to the first step, holding him with little effort until the boy found his footing and rhythm.

Obi-Wan could sense the Master's temptation to do the same for him, and quickly jumped up to grab the first rung though he had to wait for Daed to get up a couple more before he could pull himself up to place his foot there. They should do nothing untoward while the children were present that might encourage comment on their budding relationship, nor to lessen the mystique of the Jedi. Sometimes reputation and rumor could do half their job.

Concern for the child ahead and those behind him kept Obi-Wan from paying attention to what the climbing -- and that first jump -- were doing to the wound in his side, and his ribs, though he spared a moment's thought to checking on Qui-Gon. Not only had the other's leg had to be aching again, but Obi-Wan also realized he had not given any thought since he had awakened in Qui-Gon's arms as to what additional injury his Master might have taken in the explosion that had temporarily separated them.

I am fine, Obi-Wan.

A lie. But hopefully no more severe than his own.

At least Qui-Gon seemed to be able to maneuver well enough when Bethany started to slip. The Jedi Master was reaching out even before the child had realized she was falling, and rested his hand against the small of her back until she stopped shaking. That brought all of the children to a halt, but as they were only a couple of steps from the top by now, Obi-Wan went ahead and began to move past Daed.

Then came the next problem; the boy's head rested perilously close to the burns blistering Obi-Wan's side, while the boy's hand had a tendency to wander uncomfortably lower in trying to seek a securer position. Obi-Wan had a moment's further distress when the lift's call button didn't activate. Despite Security's call and orders, something had disabled or overridden the circuits.

"Daed, climb back down to your sister," he quickly instructed. It'd be cozy for two children on the same step, but both were small. And such was the seriousness in Obi-Wan's voice that the boy didn't argue.

I don't know, he then sent back down to Qui-Gon before the other could frame his question.

This could just as easily be a glitch caused by the explosion Qui-Gon had set off; any number of circuits had been disrupted by that damage. And who knew how extensively the systems were intertwined? But the lighting worked perfectly here, as had the mag rail and tram servo to points nearby. This lack of activation could just as easily be a temporary failure or test as different sections of the system was being rerouted and repaired. It didn't have to mean anything. It didn't have to mean that those who hunted them had guessed their quarry would be coming here and were now set up and waiting.

Obi-Wan climbed up the final steps until he stood with his body fully within the door frame of the closed lift, the controls now at his elbow instead of above his head. No more rungs going up, of course, but to either side of the door there were hand holds; this access was more of an emergency exit, to be used in either direction. In order to not be in the door frame when it opened, he would need to shift all the way over to the right and use an upper hand-hold with no foothold, so he could operate the touch pad with his left hand.

Instead of thinking any more about what it would take, he just did it. Had the majority of Havenites been left handed and the set up opposite it wouldn't have worked, for there was no way he'd be able to support his weight with his left arm at full extension, pulling against the ribs and knife wound. It was bad enough with his right -

Before he completely lost his grip, or could bring the Force to bear himself, Obi-Wan felt a steadying push. No doubt the children would never have noticed. But Qui-Gon had, and now held him with just as sure touch in the Force as he had balanced Bethany with his hand. Obi-Wan sent back wordless thanks and took a deep breath, then finished inputting the override sequence the guards had given them. And waited for the doors to open.

No rocket launcher this time. Not even a blaster. At least not yet.

But now that the doors had opened, Obi-Wan's sense of wrongness deepened. The danger he had earlier sensed when thinking of this access to the spaceport was present. Here. He steeled himself and sent the barest outline of a plan to Qui-Gon, who expressed his unhappiness but didn't say anything against it. Obi-Wan was no happier about the plan himself, but they had little choice. The opening of the doors was obvious to anyone watching. Something had to be done.

Unfortunately Obi-Wan had nothing to throw except his lightsaber or his jacket, and in this position he could only reach the weapon. Of course, there was little but another saber that could damage the weapon, so he wasn't worried about that. And it wasn't as if he wouldn't instantly be following his lightsaber inward, and he could call it right back if needed …

Vertical jumps were one thing, horizontal quite another even using the Force. Knowing his body would hate him come morning -- assuming he could even pull this off without losing his hold or falling -- Obi-Wan had Qui-Gon withdraw his support. Next he summoned his lightsaber out of the jacket pocket Qui-Gon had tucked it back into, then tossed the weapon with his mind but allowed it to fall naturally. Almost before he could register the flash of metal in the subdued lighting of the landing, then the bright flares of blaster fire, Obi-Wan let go of the handhold and pushed upward from bent knees. He reached the upper edge of the door frame with both hands and swung his body left and up, curling into a reverse handstand which, with just another little push, enabled him to brace his feet within and above the door frame.

Even had they been expecting a feint with something like his weapon, the ambushers had also been expecting the body that followed to be coming in at a lower than normal trajectory, in a roll or slide toward the floor. Shots instantly crisscrossed at about knee level had he still been standing in the doorway. Obi-Wan had time to acknowledge what the Force had already told him, that the ceiling was far enough upward that he could continue the swing from his impact and momentum above the door, although there was nothing but light panels across the ceiling, nothing to grab hold of. Well, he wasn't looking to perch or stop, not with a team of five shooters, just to use the ceiling to further his momentum inward and keep those firing at him aiming in locations he had already moved beyond.

Pushing off from the lights, Obi-Wan barely registered the heat that would have burned his hands had he held them there for more than a second or two. This push carried him through a second revolution and at least ten feet beyond the doorway. Unless he pivoted, he'd be still be facing the back of the landing as he dropped to the floor, the gunmen behind him since they were positioned to the left and right of the opening, three and two. His lightsaber was also to the left, which determined his next move.

Side and stomach and nerves all howled as he tucked and twisted and reached out for the weapon even as he called the hilt back to his fingers. Now, finally, Obi-Wan moved in the same plane as his foes, but thank the Force that their reactions were decidedly slower than their sight. One shot flew upward from the right to where he had been, managing to shoot out panels of light in a spray of sparks and shattered glass. The drop and spring forward quickly put Obi-Wan too close for the those on the left to even begin to track him, which left only one more shot from the right that he had to deflect against his saber's blade to protect his back. Unfortunately that shot proved they either didn't care about shooting each other, or that they were wearing body army as it was fired pretty indiscriminately. Neither suppositions were pleasant prospects for a decidedly unarmored Jedi Padawan.

Unarmored, but not unprotected, as a Jedi Padawan rarely traveled without a Jedi Master. Although he and Qui-Gon had never worked together save for a fleeting few seconds down opposite ends of a corridor, in the next instant they proved why two Jedi could be sent to defend against an army. Obi-Wan's appearance and Jedi abilities had provided enough of a distraction that for a moment the five shooters forgot that the doors were still open, and that Obi-Wan had not been alone.

Wielding green flame like one of the ancient warrior gods of Obi-Wan's home world, Qui-Gon suddenly appeared from out of the smoke-obscured door frame. He moved with an economy and finesse that Obi-Wan had the ability to appreciate only in the spatial sense that was part of a Jedi's combat mind; the ability to trace every movement enacted within the full 360 degree radius centered on his own body. All Obi-Wan consciously absorbed was that he needn't worry about the shooters behind him.

In less than a minute the confrontation was over and silent, save for one man's retching from where Obi-Wan had lifted a knee into his stomach. And for the crackling of fire that had begun up in the wiring in the ceiling. In less than another minute there would be water or other fire suppressants spraying into the smoke, and no time to question a prisoner. Indeed, they would have little time to even bring the children up the remaining distance before at least one or two of those who had tried to ambush them would undoubtedly begin to come around again.

The jolt of his hand and saber hilt against the lower neck of the conscious assailant brought Obi-Wan little satisfaction. It wasn't as if he sought or enjoyed revenge; he didn't even truly enjoy fighting, certainly not as much or in the same way his former Master had. Still, Obi-Wan knew he was good, and could at least derive some satisfaction in properly utilizing that skill in defense of others.

Actually, he had been trained to be better than good, if for no other reason than because a'Thuul had enjoyed fighting and wanted a competent partner who could keep up. So Obi-Wan's training had included accessing parts of his brain and stamina that another Jedi might in prudence leave untouched, since such effort also used up just about every bit of his energy and left almost nothing to sustain consciousness once the rush of adrenaline began to fade with the battle's end.

Master Koon had been working extensively to teach Obi-Wan to restrain making this full giving; being practically unable to stand even when he wasn't hurt was not a good thing, utilizing such an effort when already injured was … remarkable. Of course, Obi-Wan accepted and agreed with Koon's admonishment that a Jedi shouldn't ever be so depleted that he could no longer defend, for he also well understood the possibility of another threat following the first without chance of respite. Like now.

Unfortunately Obi-Wan had also been taught to automatically reach for a wellspring of Force energy even in this near senseless state, though it meant he would totally collapse if the outflow stopped. And he had already started before realizing this would leave him as a burden - again -- to Qui-Gon. Master a'Thuul's teachings were hard to overcome, especially when such an effort meant the difference between success and failure.

Especially when the effort was made to aid someone as important as Qui-Gon had become to him.

This was something Obi-Wan doubted Qui-Gon had read about in his files. And a secret that would be important to share. But not yet. He had not the time or even the energy to waste as he had only limited amounts left to hold onto and even littler experience to draw upon. Victims and aftermath had always been left to Master a'Thuul, or more often had simply been left to those they had been sent to help.

All he could do was shift his body and mind to automatic and marshal his energy to keep going a little longer. He crawled past the Jedi Master who was dealing with the dead and ensuring those still living could no longer attack, and over to the opening, then extended his hand to assisted Daed up onto the landing. Qui-Gon was suddenly at his side and they both aided the twins.

Qui-Gon's gentle mental probing was ignored, as was the troubled look of concern directed Obi-Wan's way. Qui-Gon didn't push; he needed to check over the bairns standing before them, eyes huge when they noted the flames, the scorch marks and the bodies that matched the noises they had heard from below. They were also blessedly quiet up until the water sprinklers went off in response to those flames.

In less than a minute water soaked all of them thoroughly and, while extinguishing the fires, greatly increased the smoke. And the children's discomfort.

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan was pretty much able to tune out their shrieks. To him the water actually felt good, especially down his throat. He couldn't remember when last he had eaten or drunk anything. Before the water, all he had been able to taste was smoke and ozone. Blood. But the water was clean. Refreshing. Soothing against his skin. He would have stayed under the spray, wanted to stay if only for a few more moments, and had even started to remove his jacket. But Qui-Gon was suddenly looking at him with alarm in those breathtakingly blue eyes, and the children were starting to cry.

The roll to his feet was less than graceful. Obi-Wan didn't really think he would have fallen through the open doorway to the floor twenty feet below even if Qui-Gon hadn't grabbed hold of him, but he also wasn't exactly sure. Nor could he say it didn't feel nice to have Qui-Gon's warm hands covering his very cold ones.

S'funny, he had thought the water nice. Warm. But really, it was cold. So cold -

"Why be the wee ones sleeping 'gain, Qui-Gon?"

When did the bairns fall 'sleep 'gain, Qui-Gon? 'N when'd the water stop - nae, when'd we get int' the lift? S'jacket's t' big. 'N on backwards -

"Obi-Wan?"

It was more the pair of hands framing his face than the voice that focused Obi-Wan's attention upward into those crystalline eyes. Blue like the color o' the crystals 'n his saber -

Obi-Wan!

A Master's cry for obedience. A lover's plea. Either, and Obi-Wan was lost. He moved forward, intent only on somehow removing the pain he saw in those eyes before him -

Obi-Wan, are you hurt?

Of course Qui-Gon had to speak in Obi-Wan's head. No one could talk with their lips pressed together, unless they were one of those street performers who claimed they could throw their voice, but they never really did without moving their lips at least a little and the only way Qui-Gon's lips were moving were in a yielding under his and it was so good sogoodso -

Obi-Wan, were you shot?

Shot? He didn't know. And it was too hard to think when someone kept talking. And shaking him. But no, Qui-Gon wasn't shaking him, he was holding him. As gentle as if he would break if he were breathed upon. Trying so hard to keep them both still, but Obi-Wan was shaking. And wet. Cold. Needed warmth, needed Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon's warmth. Sowarmso -

Qui-Gon's hands kept moving from where Obi-Wan tried to direct them. The first jacket slipped off, then the second, and Obi-Wan was cold, but there was a sudden burning. Qui-Gon's hands, Qui-Gon's pain - no his own pain -

Obi-Wan cried out when Qui-Gon's hand brushed behind his ear. This time he couldn't fight the nausea, the swirling darkness and confusion, the spinning walls. He tried to focus on Qui-Gon's eyes, but his own were blurring, and the light hurt, and his head was going to fall off, or explode or

All in all, Obi-Wan decided that if he had to keep waking up out of unconsciousness, he could do worse than to keep doing so within Qui-Gon's arms. He could certainly get used to such a position, to the comfort, but frankly, he'd prefer for it to happen just once when his body wasn't screaming at him for some sort of abuse. What good was feeling safe - and aroused - when he wasn't up to doing anything about it?

Or when guilt kept him from staying there.

He moved to jerk free, but obviously Qui-Gon had realized he had awoken before Obi-Wan had himself, and had tightened his arms just enough to let Obi-Wan stay if he wanted to and to prevent him from hurting himself if he didn't. Oh yes, how he wanted to. But he couldn't. They had a task, a duty, and it wasn't fair to keep making Qui-Gon have to deal with a worthless Padawan as well as three small children.

"My Padawan is not worthless, Obi-Wan."

The voice came somewhere from just behind his left ear, the warm, moist words sending a thrill down his back almost as deep as the one the actual words had given him. And the embrace.

"He was, however, not quite able to execute his plan without a tiny mishap," Qui-Gon continued. "He was shot, only a graze fortunately, from some sort of projectile weapon. Or maybe just caught a ricochet or shrapnel." Soft fingers hovered just behind Obi-Wan's right ear. "Which didn't do his concussion, or my heart any good, I'm afraid."

Obi-Wan basically let the feelings that accompanied the words flow through him for a bit, then realized what those words had been saying. Had meant. He reached up quickly to check, and felt the furrow. But he also could still feel the start of his braid hanging less than a finger's width below the furrow, and let out a small sigh of relief.

It was silly, of course. He'd still be a Padawan even if he had lost the braid. But it had taken him ten years to grow it this long, and now he again had someone for whom it had meaning. Nor was it as if the jewelry and ribbons that he had adorned it with were valuable, but those baubles had caught Qui-Gon's eyes, and the braid had been the first place Qui-Gon had touched him back, so it had more meaning for him, too. If it were ever to be cut, he wanted it done by Qui-Gon's hand and not during some stupid battle.

After touching it one last time, Obi-wan started to pull away again from Qui-Gon's lap, but this time in small movements only. And only far enough so that he could twist a little and look up at the face of the man who had looked after him. Long, damp hair clung to a sweat and smoke-smudged face that showed too much exhaustion and evidence of his own hurts. But those mesmerizing blue eyes showed only concern. And love. And that face was the most beautiful sight Obi-Wan had ever seen.

"Would explain my headache," he finally responded, tone wry and soft because even just speaking hurt. "An' maybe some o' my actions? The reactions?" He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing back some of the hair that threatened to hide Qui-Gon's beautiful eyes. Now, of course, was the perfect time to tell Qui-Gon about the little trick he couldn't always help doing in battle, but he didn't want to disrupt the relief and amusement he could sense in the other. He would just have to be more careful. And let Qui-Gon know later, when things weren't quite so dire.

It didn't seem that Qui-Gon had caught this bit that Obi-Wan was hiding, the Master let a corner of his mouth turn up in response to Obi-Wan's words with no sense of a response to his thoughts.

"I hope not an excuse for all of your reactions, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon brushed his hand across Obi-Wan's cheek. "Although I think we are going to have to work on our timing."

Obi-Wan nodded, eyes immediately closing as if that could counter the spike of agony that drove itself down behind his right eye with the movement. Damn, but he had known better, hadn't done something that stupid in those times when it wasn't this bad.

When he could open them again, Obi-Wan saw the role of Master slide over Qui-Gon's expression although none of the love lessened from the other's gaze. He waited in patience while he was looked over carefully. What Qui-Gon would be sensing wasn't encouraging, Obi-Wan knew. But it was the best he would be able to manage until they could get their hands on some medical supplies. Or a few hours of meditation. Maybe even sleep. Any option would enable him to restore a little of the energy he kept having to expend. And that Qui-Gon kept having to expend on Obi-Wan's behalf instead of the Master dealing with his own injuries.

"So how long was I out this time, an' where be we now?" Obi-Wan asked. Darkness surrounded them, but not the total blackness of the underground passages they had first crept through. Light came from somewhere, not sunlight, however, and whatever window, door, hole or crack that let it in was above them and small, almost obstructed by large shadows. Even though Obi-Wan felt walls nearby, he also felt the space around them to be open and cavernous. And now he could answer at least his last question.

"Yew broke int' a warehouse?" he laughed sharply as he struggled to his feet. As nice as sitting next to Qui-Gon was, the floor was damn cold under his wet pants, and his body was screaming for him to move. At least this time it wasn't because of imminent danger, other than his body's stiffening and cramping. If he didn't move, he'd soon be unable to.

Obi-Wan looked back down and tried not to laugh harder at the pained scowl the other shot him. But since he had been fishing for just that type of reaction …

"I assume we still be by the spaceport?" And he offered a hand to assist Qui-Gon to his feet.

Qui-Gon took it and nodded, needing a couple extra steps to steady himself. Obi-Wan chastised himself; he should have taken a look at Qui-Gon's leg before they had moved. Not to mention the new bruising and cut that angled above his Master's eye. He should have taken the time to determine what else his Master had injured in the explosion.

"Not too far from the ship we'll be departing in, actually," Qui-Gon offered, not letting him get any better look. Or sense.

Sure, now their shields were working against each other.

Knowing what Obi-Wan was thinking, Qui-Gon just gave him a deprecating smile. "Departing once I figure out how to contact the pilot without giving our position away, of course."

Obi-Wan tried once more to check over Qui-Gon, but had to give up when the pain in his head kept him from accessing the Force and the Jedi Master's movements kept him from being able to see anything else telltale in low lighting. Great. Thanks to the renewed concussion, he couldn't channel the Force again.

Knowing Qui-Gon wasn't about to admit to being in difficult straits, Obi-Wan had another moment of regret and guilt for his collapse. It would have taken Qui-Gon time, effort and probably a decent amount of guile to get the children here to this place of relative safety, even if the Jedi Master hadn't been hurt. Because of him, Qui-Gon was now much worse off, and --

"Care that your emotions don't slip into self-pity, Obi-Wan."

He twisted his head and looked up at the taller man, ready to protest or defend his feelings, but had to stop when he realized the other was quite right. And that shielding wasn't keeping Qui-Gon from sensing his thoughts, just that his Master wasn't prepared to always answer them.

"Gods o' old Coruscant," he cursed in mock dismay. "Yew be just like Master Yoda, right? Yew be making everything I do, see o' think a lesson?"

Qui-Gon's smirk made Obi-Wan forget a moment about how bad he ached.

"He was my Master first, young Padawan. Be thankful I don't have his trouble in speaking Basic."

Obi-Wan laughed, feeling better despite the hitch it caused in his breathing. "So what be next then, o' wonderful Master o' mine?" He slowly began to lift and move his limbs to judge the full extent of the damage as well as try to ease the stiffness.

"One of us needs find a comm unit, while the other figures out just how our adversaries keep finding us."

Obi-Wan stopped his careful stretches so suddenly he almost fell. While he caught himself in time and pushed the twinge from his body out of mind, doing so was easier with Qui-Gon's hand again touching his body. He let himself be pulled into a standing embrace.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?"

"They nae be finding us, they be tracking us." Even as he finished the words, Obi-Wan could taste the certainty in his thoughts that had begun at Qui-Gon's almost casual questioning. "But the device canna be on either o' us; the only time they hae got close enough t' plant something hae been after they hae already found us."

"When I landed?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, too busy thinking to feel the headache now. "You be a Jedi Master. They would nae hae dare tried -"

"They didn't know I was Jedi." Qui-Gon was so still he was almost not breathing, as if he feared any movement might distract Obi-Wan's leaps of logic. Or self-confidence.

"Surely you would hae sensed it?"

He could feel Qui-Gon's affirmation; very likely the Jedi Master would have sensed someone doing just that.

"And if the pilot sold the information about me, that would only have aided them in finding us the first time. Not in the times since we fled into the underground."

Logical. Right. So how --

Obi-Wan couldn't quite keep the horror from creeping through his thoughts. He pulled away from Qui-Gon although he knew that no distance could protect the other from learning what he sensed. Yes, there was a way without knowing about the pilot. Or either Jedi.

Moving over toward where the children had been laid, Obi-Wan supposed he should feel guilty for how often they were keeping the children unconscious. But doing such had made them not only easier to deal with, it had also kept them safe. Especially now.

Safe from his certain knowledge at least for a while longer.

Now that he had an idea of what to look for, it didn't take Obi-Wan long to find the tracking device. Both had been buried within the back casings of the lockets the twins wore. Lockets which bore inscriptions from their parents, along with two portraits.

"It doesn't have to be either of their own parents who planted the device there." Qui-Gon was trying to counter the dread they both felt, the conclusions they had reached without evidence. "Anyone trusted in their household could have taken the lockets at some time previous -"

Obi-Wan wasn't really listening. "It be the mother related t' Chancellor Valorum, right? And was nae their father a major player in Laxo Mining Consortium 'fore they be bought out by Offworld? Supposedly retired out, he hae become a minor politico wit' aspirations for the Senate himself?" Obi-Wan didn't need Qui-Gon's confirmation. He could feel the truth of every word he spoke. And in his suspicions.

"What easier way t' win votes than from sympathy?" he spat out.

"The guilty party behind this isn't the important factor right now, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon was in full Master mode again, his words harsh, resolute.

Obi-Wan couldn't prevent his feelings of shock and outrage wash over their link, his wordless snarl at the presence of the other's stoic mask. Fuck, but how he resented Jedi serenity sometimes! And how easily such serenity came to Qui-Gon. Didn't he feel?

Of course he did.

In the next instant Obi-Wan replayed Qui-Gon's words in his mind, reexamined the feelings behind them, this time without the filter of his own disgust. Right now.

Shite, Qui-Gon was right. The tracking devices were still here, still working. Which meant there was no place of relative safety. Those sent by the wee ones' father were already willing to blow up a ground transport on a public street, several junctions of an underground, and kill a couple men in City Security. A mostly empty warehouse would be an easy and inviting target.

Starting to pry off the backs of the lockets, Obi-Wan instead just removed both chains from around the girls' necks. It wasn't as if they would be wanting them as momentos once they found out what their father had been willing to do.

"I can get the trackers out o' the way, then come join you after you hae got hold o' the pilot," he growled out to Qui-Gon, senses shifting, expanding, for once being able to direct an aspect of his prescience instead of accepting its random assistance.

Qui-Gon knelt at his side and worked to wake the children. "I know the codes to the ship. Don't worry about going too far, just get them away from here. Can you pilot the ship if I don't find ours?"

"You canna?"

"Not well enough to get us past active pursuit. I really didn't have an opportunity to keep my rating current on Telos, and there have been so many other things necessary to update since Xan and I've gotten back."

Obi-Wan just gave a short nod as he rose and started away. "What ship be it an' where? An' what type o' ship?" he called out, seeking a door furthest away from where Qui-Gon would lead the bairns just in case they had started too late.

"The Bonhomie, pad eight. It's one of the new Corellian Action IV transport freighters."

Obi-Wan raised his brow at the good fortunes of Qui-Gon's pilot. The Mark IVs had only been introduced to the market over the last eighteen months. The corporate trading companies had snapped up all of the early models. For an independent to be able to even talk to the Corellian shipyards, much less afford their newest model, meant the pilot had to be very well off indeed.

We be in luck, then. I'm rated on the Mark IIIs and have trained on the IVs; there nae be t' big a difference. Obi-Wan had reached the door but was reluctant to leave despite having an idea of what he next needed to do. He was in no condition to make the type of Force enhanced run that might be necessary to get far enough away with the trackers. But it would be even worse for Qui-Gon to have to do so. If Obi-Wan couldn't make it back, however, Qui-Gon might not be able to get the ship in flight.

Of course, even if they did switch roles, while Obi-Wan could pilot the ship he could only use the Force to carry the children and getting them on board would take even more time and probably more energy than the run would.

Go, Obi-Wan. I cannot believe the Force would bring us together in this only to separate us before we can explore our new future.

Obi-Wan had never put as much stock in the Will of the Force as he knew he should have, as most other Jedi did and as he had been taught. Too much of his life had been shaped by the will of Master a'Thuul, who, in truth, was rarely on speaking terms with any of the higher levels of the Force. At times Obi-Wan had despaired of ever understanding the patterns of its Unifying Field since his former Master had practically shunned it. He supposed he should have noticed this fault as some point earlier in his apprenticeship; he probably could have used it as a basis to request a new Master, since Master a'Thuul wasn't all that hot shite with the aspects of the Living Force either. But his Master had also been exciting and dangerous, and so willing to fight on another's behalf that Obi-Wan had only realized after his Master had died that there could be ways beyond fighting to settle a dispute. That he could serve without ever having to draw his weapon.

The thought that he and Qui-Gon had been thrown together by the 'Will of the Force' scared him even more than the thought that it all had just been Master Yoda's idea. Obi-Wan had finally almost become comfortable with his abilities to use the Force, to call upon it for succor and energy. He had also come to accept that every piece of the universe held a piece of the Force, that all things were connected under a set of universal truths and a fundamental oneness that secular believers called brotherhood, and the religious called faith. But Qui-Gon's Force was not only living, but nearly sentient. And something way beyond the basics of symbiosis, something much nearer to a godhead.

To think that something like that had noticed him -

I'm not enough for you, Obi-Wan?

Sent with just the right dryness and exasperation, it was the perfect tone to bring Obi-Wan out of what could have very well spiraled into a panic attack. He would leave the contemplation of this upset to his worldview to a time when he could deal with it. Not to mention the upset to his life and future that Qui-Gon represented. Obi-Wan also had to admit, at least to himself, that it felt reassuring to have someone believe in a purpose, that he had a purpose. Even if it were only to make someone else happy, that was a duty he would eagerly embrace.

Right after this one.

Ideally he needed to find an empty area to lose the lockets, a place where no one else would be injured when the next attack came. Or even better, a place that was so empty and open that those who sought them would realize they had been duped, and wouldn't bother to make the next attack. Here on Haven at least.

Fighting in space wouldn't be much better, of course. Assuming Qui-Gon's … borrowed ship even had weaponry. At least there would be many more places to hide up in space. And so much less likelihood of additional innocents getting caught within the confrontation.

In the end Obi-Wan chose to head out into the oldest portion of the spaceport. It was farther away from Qui-Gon than he had hoped or the other had wanted, but there Obi-Wan was able to find an abandoned tarmac and pads no longer sturdy enough to support the demands of incoming and outgoing traffic. The only things out here were cracked pavements and the hardiest of plants struggling to reclaim the land.

He had intended to toss the lockets, the tracking devices would likely break upon impact. But since their last stationary place was so close to the ship where Qui-Gon was leading the children too -- and those who were using the tracking devices would recognize they had been found out the instant the devices went silent -- Obi-Wan did not want to take a chance that the would-be assassins would fire at the last known place in retaliation anyway, and risk the ship being caught up in the edges of the probable conflagration. But that would mean he would have to carry them longer and even farther out to convince them that the children were moving again.

Unfortunately, that meant Qui-Gon would also have to wait longer for his return. Actually, Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure Qui-Gon should wait for his return, especially once it didn't happen as quickly as expected. He could hope that their new bond would let Qui-Gon know he wasn't dead, but as that wouldn't necessarily mean he hadn't been taken, the sensing wouldn't necessarily offer his Master comfort. And that was even assuming that if the attackers figured out the children were no longer in the same vicinity as the devices and caught up to him, they would want to take him alive to find out where they were instead of just killing him. Of course, Obi-Wan had no intention of being taken in any instance, and he would die before he would give up the children's or Qui-Gon's location.

He only needed a few more minutes of luck. A few more minutes to catch his breath, and maybe gather up enough Force to control his headache. At least to the point of getting rid of the white spots in front of his eyes -

Fuck. The white spots were real, were lights, not just part of his concussion. He had either attracted the attention of City or Port security, or he had been found by those he wanted to mislead. Obi-Wan couldn't just leave though, not if they were security since they would be in danger. He'd have to get closer and find out. But he'd have to drop or dispose of the tracking devices first, in case it wasn't security.

Had it been enough time?

Intuition said no to security and yes to enough time. But Obi-Wan felt none of the dread certainty of prescience as he had in the underground or the warehouse. And if he was wrong -- on either account -- someone could get killed and that someone might not necessarily be himself.

Damn! This was his problem, one of the reasons Master Yoda spent so much time with him and one of the reasons he knew his trials of Knighthood were still years off. If he couldn't rely on his own judgment, prescience or not, he would never be able to work successfully alone in the field.

Nor did it matter that Qui-Gon had believed him before; it had been easy to put concern for another first, to know, because the alternative would be unthinkable. He could gamble his own life on a mistake, even someone he didn't know if he had to, but he would not gamble on Qui-Gon's --

The Will of the Force. Trust in the Force.

It had always been about faith, whether that damn thing was sentient or not. And if he couldn't muster enough faith in something intangible, or in himself, he would just have to rely on Qui-Gon's faith. The faith that they would have a future together. The faith that Qui-Gon wanted to have a future together.

Obi-Wan tossed the lockets, imagining he could see them flying out long after whatever starshine or far off city glow might have made them visible. If the white lights belonged to security, they wouldn't alter, for they'd be tracking him instead of the lockets, with infrared or heat sensors. If the lights did jerk toward the lockets, however, even for just a moment, then they belonged to those the children's father had sent. And in the latter case, anything sent his way as they continued their approach would unlikely be passive restraints or stun fields.

The lights jerked. And in an instant they would know that no child could move with the speed the devices were traveling -

While Obi-Wan had given most of his attention to just finding someplace appropriate to lead the others toward, he had still kept a basic awareness of where he was in relationship to the warehouse. Beginning to run, calling forth speeds unattainable without the energies of the Force coursing through him, he abruptly realized he needn't have bothered with the split attention. Nor had he needed Qui-Gon to tell him what landing pad to meet them at. Stronger than any tracking device could ever relay, Obi-Wan could now feel Qui-Gon's presence and position like his Master was a sole burning star in one of the voids of infinite space.

Not having to focus on finding Qui-Gon was fortunate; his foes had learned from one of the early encounters. Instead of missiles that had been avoided or turned back, the attackers had found themselves their own set of sonics. Yet these were turned up beyond a level that was legal in the Republic. The only thing that saved Obi-Wan was that in strengthening the field, they had shortened its effectiveness. Right now he was on the fringes, so the first wave that passed over him didn't burst his eardrums. Or eyes. Or every blood vessel in this body. Still, Obi-Wan tumbled forward, his head now pounding in time with his heartbeat and rapid pulse. He had to hope those who chased him were walking, even running, for that would be the only way he would outdistance the weapon. He would need just a few seconds once he could regain his equilibrium.

Once he regained his feet.

Of course, if they were in vehicles --

Obi-Wan half expected a gravity pulse to follow, that these all too determined pursuers had managed to actually conscript a security droid. But the pulse didn't happen, and he was finally moving again, albeit no faster than anyone else could run. Not fast enough. And he couldn't direct them back toward other people who could get caught up -

He managed to dodge the next beam, something broad based and with enough fire power that it had to have come from a pulse rifle. They were no longer just determined, but pissed. And beginning to figure out they weren't up against any run of the mil bodyguards. Pity it hadn't taken them just a little longer to figure that out.

Obi-Wan managed to dodge the next shot from the pulse rifle too, but he couldn't keep it up. Not against everything they aimed his way. Already hurt and, frankly, exhausted, Obi-Wan just couldn't move fast enough any more. The wave of sonics roared over and through his body. If asked he would say his brain was melting - or his body dying - but he didn't stop moving, regardless that he couldn't make out anything visually anymore, whether from the blood running through and from his eyes, or just from his body's desperate attempt to shut down. Only darkness now, and the Force. Not even the spots, real or imagined.

He tried to call up the blue of Qui-Gon's eyes, but could only see a reflection of his own. The blurred green of despair. Of failure.

Of Qui-Gon's lightsaber?

Body recognizing what his brain could not, Obi-Wan twisted and collapsed out of the way as a blazing streak of green and sweep of a Jedi robe race past. He had to get up, had to help, to at least tell Qui-Gon about the sonics and the pulse rifle, but now that he was down, nothing in Obi-Wan's body could move. Not his hands or feet, not his mouth. Not his lungs. Only the tears that began trailing down his face from knowing that this time he wouldn't awaken again in the arms of his beloved.

While Qui-Gon would have preferred to have set Obi-Wan in one of the bio-stasis chambers that comprised the ship's only medical facilities, or even down on the spacious bed of the captain's quarters, he had time to only strap his unconscious Padawan into the co-pilot's seat and pray that he had studied the board in front of him long enough before his rising concern for Obi-Wan had taken him back out of the ship and into the night. It hadn't taken him long to find Obi-Wan; from the moment they had separated Qui-Gon had found his attention more on the young Jedi than on his own responsibilities. And, as it had when learning that first attacker had knifed Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon's rage had surged when he caught his first glimpse of Obi-Wan crumpling to the tarmac.

It had near broken his heart to forced himself to move beyond, even when knowing that doing so would help - would protect - Obi-Wan better than gathering his Padawan up into his arms as he so wanted to do. That he had managed to stymie Obi-Wan's pursuers, had been able to misdirect their search without needing to kill them had been a surprise regardless, especially given how fragile his control was. He could only figure he had been aided in that by the Force.

Returning to find Obi-Wan unmoving on the tarmac, for a moment Qui-Gon wished he had killed the attackers. But he found the young Jedi alive, if breathing erratically. And found, fortunately, that most of the distress had come from damage caused by the sonics, instead of one of his broken ribs piercing a lung. Which also meant he could lift, carry and cradle, as long as he took care.

He ignored the tremendous protest his leg transmitted to his brain as he rose with his precious burden. Slight though Obi-Wan was for his age and muscle, not even a Jedi Master could carry one hundred and seventy pounds for too long, even with aid from the Force. And although he had tried to keep the knowledge from Obi-Wan previously - to what degree of success he was not entirely sure - the earlier task of having to carry the girls, Daed and Obi-Wan into the warehouse had pretty well taxed his strength and stamina. This strain would undo any good the little rest and direct application of Force to effect healing Qui-Gon had undertaken on board the ship.

Which didn't matter. Duty had driven and allowed him to function as protector toward the children so far. He could do no less when motivated by love.

Although it took him much longer than he had hoped, Qui-Gon got himself and Obi-Wan back to the ship, his wounded leg dragging in the end, his head likely pounding as much as Obi-Wan's had been earlier. In the time it had taken, his Padawan had stirred toward consciousness only once, then quieted even before Qui-Gon could direct or aid in putting Obi-Wan back under.

Another exhibition of trust, which made Qui-Gon feel both horribly uncomfortable and unbelievably happy. While trust was part and parcel to a Jedi's interaction with another Jedi, like bonds, there were various levels of trust. As well as pride. And Qui-Gon knew of few Jedi secure enough within their hearts to be able to so fully surrender care and responsibility to another -- even another Jedi. Even within the bond between a Master and Apprentice. He wasn't even sure if he could have surrendered his own control as easily.

Especially for the Jedi, it was so very hard to admit to needing someone else.

Although able to feel blood welling against his chest from where Obi-Wan's head rested, it wasn't until reaching the ship that Qui-Gon could see just how much there was, and to feel a pang of guilt and fear. Obi-Wan's injuries hadn't included a pierced lung, but had that changed in Qui-Gon's clumsiness?

No, most of the blood didn't come from Obi-Wan's mouth. Just his nose. And ears. His eyes. Burst blood vessels near the surface of the skin from heavy but not lethal sonics.

Not life-threatening, just extremely painful. And temporarily debilitating with likely deafness and partial or total blindness. All of which would need be ignored for the moment; it would be some time before Qui-Gon could abandon the flying to the auto pilot and be able to treat any of Obi-Wan's injuries.

"S'oka -" O', fuck that hurts! Words which started in the faintest of whisper quickly became heard only in mindspeech as Obi-Wan regained consciousness.

Don't try to talk, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon made sure to use mindspeech too, and thanked the Force that Obi-Wan's concussion had not worsened. You've torn your vocal cords and ruptured your eardrums.

As he directed the ship's liftoff, Qui-Gon also marveled at the variety of curses that were now flitting through the back of Obi-Wan's mind, and at Obi-Wan's restraint in trying to keep the thoughts from forming actual words. As if he feared he might shock or offend.

Actually, they tore my vocal cords an' ruptured my eardrums, came the retort, sarcasm just as dry and cutting even without being able to use inflection. Damn, but I hate sonics.

Many societies feel it is a more humane way to handle people, Padawan. Not everyone fully recovers from stuns or electrical shocks, and it certainly is less damaging to a body's systems than a blaster.

Although Qui-Gon smiled, making sure Obi-Wan could feel his gentle amusement when the visual couldn't be seen, his attention was more taken with the board in front of him. Qui-Gon wasn't sure if Ground Control was trying to contact the ship; communications had been turned off by the pilot upon landing and the Jedi Master didn't know where the controls were to restore them. He didn't worry too much, however. The Jedi Council would be able to smooth over any ruffled tempers either with diplomacy or money. And it wasn't as if there were any other ships present either taking off or landing to worry about crossed paths.

Tell that t' my aching head, Obi-Wan complained. O' any number o' other body parts. I -- Obi-Wan twisted carefully under the straps Qui-Gon had secured him within and cocked his head, as if using his body to make up for the senses temporarily lost. We be taking off?

Qui-Gon made to nod, but stopped himself from completing the useless gesture. You can feel it? Hoping to be handling this carefully enough not to subject Obi-Wan to the excess positive gravities of occasional take offs, obviously it still wasn't quite smooth enough for the inertial compensators to offset the acceleration.

He had known the combination of sonic induced trauma and the earlier concussion was probably making his Padawan feel even worse than he had in the underground or in the lift, which had to be pretty bad indeed. But Obi-Wan had been carefully shielding any of that pain from leaking over with his thoughts since his awakening. Qui-Gon refrained from pointing out that he was aware of it anyway, and could empathize. While his own injuries were not as bad, only in being involved with getting them away from Haven was helping him control his own.

I would imagine that if my eardrums were nae punctured, the change in air pressure would be pretty excruciating at the moment. But the gravities be okay. What I feel are the subharmonics o' the straining engines. They be almost like 'nother heartbeat. An uneven one at that. Be you sure this ship is able t' fly?

How nice that he questioned the ship and not the pilot. Of course, the only assurance Qui-Gon had in the ship's readiness was the reality - it was flying. Also that the Force was whispering nothing to him and, rather obviously, nothing to Obi-Wan. It's probably my inexperienced hand at the controls, Obi-Wan. Not anything catastrophic. Nor sabotage.

Just how inexperienced, Master?

As I said before, I am behind on my rating and flight hours. Nothing you need worry about, however. I have been flying ships similar enough to this one since before you were born. And I have walked away from every landing I have attempted.

Even though he couldn't yet see, or hear, Obi-Wan had turned his face toward Qui-Gon at the beginning of their conversation and he now offered a smile, although he was trying very hard not to laugh. Yes, well, since I know just how easily a Jedi can repair his body, especially wit' a little help from a Healer o' bacta, that is nae necessarily something t' brag about, Master. How many o' those landings left the ship intact?

You're saying you've never crashed? Even as the challenging question left his mind, Qui-Gon could have kicked himself. Just a few hours ago he had shared Obi-Wan's memories of the crash that had happened less than a week ago. And knew that Obi-Wan had been the pilot.

I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. That was thoughtless of me. He took his eyes off the controls long enough to reach over to touch his fingers against Obi-Wan's cheek.

I may be easily dented, Master, but I will nae break. I ken what you meant. But I thank you for your apology and concern.

Qui-Gon could sense the frustration that rippled through Obi-Wan as he tried to rub away some of the blood that had dried his eyes shut. Unfortunately even if he got them open, the vision would be blurred and painful at best.

Just rest for a few more minutes, Obi-Wan. We're coming up out of the atmosphere and I'll be able to help you then.

'm all right -- Concern suddenly flooded down their link. I canna believe I did nae ask already! Obi-Wan sent, his thoughts now horror-filled. Be yew all right, Master?

I didn't sustain any further injury, Padawan.

Now at the edge of the atmosphere Qui-Gon could turn more of his attention to where it was needed. Take offs and landings were always the worst. Even as rusty as his skills were, he knew how to lock in the navigation beacon and set their flight plan using the established routes out of the system. And look up the plot for the upcoming jump into hyperspace.

But I'm sure I saw blood --

Qui-Gon had half a thought to ask when, since the blood vessels in Obi-Wan's eyes had already been ruptured before Qui-Gon had been able to reach him out on the tarmac. But, of course, some of Qui-Gon's own distress had probably been leaking through their link, and Obi-Wan's mind had simply interpreted the feelings creatively.

It is nothing a little time spent with a dermal and tissue regenerator won't handle. Any remaining discomfort can be controlled once I've a chance to meditate. You, on the other hand I fear, will require some tank time.

The frown that came to Obi-Wan's lips made him look about fifteen, the tenor of his thoughts, made him sound about ten. I hate bacta tanks.

I shouldn't be surprised, what with how much time you have spent in them. Didn't your former Master ever teach you to duck? Qui-Gon tried to insure amusement smothered the concern in his thoughts, along with his continued uncharitable feelings toward a'Thuul.

I ken I still hae a lot t' learn.

The response was almost shy, and not at all what Qui-Gon had been expecting since Obi-Wan so far had shown a tendency to retreat into humor or teasing when emotions began to intensify.

Not as much to learn as you may think, my Obi-Wan.

But Qui-Gon kept that thought shielded, and sent instead, And I look forward to teaching you all that you will let me, realizing too late how the words and his thoughts could be interpreted.

Indeed, from Obi-Wan the Jedi Master felt a sudden rise of lust, quickly contained. Also embarrassment. Not so quickly contained.

Despite their verbal fencing from the instant of their first meeting, and of the intellectual and emotional acceptance of their forming a bond, the thought of their sexual attraction, of actually contemplating entering into a sexual relationship with someone just met was more than a little frightening, Jedi code be damned.

Frightening for them both.

Obviously you know more details about my life than I d' yours. Obi-Wan grabbed for the safer topic, his thoughts filled for an instant with images Qui-Gon's comments had raised of his time spent in bacta tanks. I'm nae sure that be fair.

Qui-Gon let out a held breath, though he managed to contain his quick laugh. There was the humor. And it was almost disappointing that no pout came with that last thought; he had a feeling Obi-Wan had a devastating pout.

I have no doubt Master Yoda will be thrilled to fill you in on any portion of my life you want to know about, Padawan, he said reassuringly. Given the thoroughness of the information he provided about you, I can only imagine what he is preparing about me since I spent fifteen years at his side.

Something t' look forward t'. And maybe he can tell me why a Jedi Master be so poor a pilot.

This time Qui-Gon did laugh. That's enough about my piloting abilities, brat. I've gotten us this far, haven't I? Nor do I think you will find there are many things I do not do well.

Oh, I am counting on that … Master.

The heat and lust that smoldered under that purring response was almost enough to make Qui-Gon forget everything he had ever learned about piloting. He had to spend several long seconds bringing his body back under his control before he could even respond.

Be careful what you wish for, Padawan, he growled heatedly, but not remotely in anger. Wishes may come true, but they do not always come free. And I am a Master at all times, even when I am not a master in all things. You may find yourself in over your head -

I be counting on that, t', Master.

Qui-Gon had long known that he generally fell in love - and even lust - because of the personality of his partners, not their looks. And this was never more so in evidence than in this moment in time. For there was nothing enticing or stimulating about Obi-Wan's looks at the moment, with blood covering his face like a mask, thinned or cracked only under tear tracks or deep furrows that were the young Jedi's only evidence and response to the pain that he couldn't control. Indeed, just looking at Obi-Wan brought tears of his own to Qui-Gon's eyes. But even from the moment his first interaction with the 'Council's Padawan', Qui-Gon had recognized the spell the other could weave with so little effort. Attitude and gesture. Looks and an appreciation for life's absurdities. Pleasure boy and pleasure's master.

So you achieved Knighthood at what, twenty-six, twenty-seven?

For an instant Qui-Gon's brain locked. Emotions tingeing back toward lust had spiraled his body out of control again from memory images of that first meeting eight? ten? hours ago. He had barely managed to begin to quell his erection, much less concentrate on the ship's controls under his hands, when Obi-Wan's seemingly innocuous question after such a loaded challenge threw the Jedi Master into total confusion.

The little tease!

Actually, at twenty-four. No, Obi-Wan wasn't intentionally being a tease. And the oddly timed question had allowed Qui-Gon to regain his control quicker than his own efforts were accomplishing. Even though this stage of piloting wasn't difficult, it did still need his attention for a few more minutes.

The ease in which either of them kept falling into a kind of lust stupor was a result of the bond that they were forming but not able to yet properly deal with. While the sentiments had been meant, Obi-Wan also obviously realized the inappropriateness of the timing and had taken steps to correct the problems he had caused. Qui-Gon could feel his conflict in wanting to apologize, but fearing the apology would sound too much like regret in forming the bond or having such feelings.

He sent back a wordless, blanket forgiveness, and decided the question deserved a fuller answer anyway. Obi-Wan had been right; he knew an inordinate amount of information about his new Padawan, while Obi-Wan knew next to nothing about his new Master. Not a great way to start a partnership.

Yoda chose me early for training, when I was nine. Qui-Gon found himself relaxing into the memories and, therefore, back into his task of piloting. I think the initiate teachers were beginning to grow uncomfortable about how poorly the others were interacting with me. A small laugh rumbled through his chest. I was always tall for my age. And towered over many of my agemates.

Which frightened them an' that feeling then made them angry.

Qui-Gon laughed. Exactly, and we both know where that leads to. I used to wonder if Yoda picked me because of my height and not from anything else he might have sensed about me. Our pairing certainly worked to let the other kids know that height didn't necessarily mean skill. And I learned quickly to respect people no matter their size or lack thereof. And how to be gentle.

A fair object lesson for all o' you, Obi-Wan agreed. But I be sure Master Yoda could hae found another way t' see the lesson taught had he nae also wanted you as his Padawan. He may be the best living avatar o' the Force, but I hae never seen another so fully harmonized with his own ideas of right and wrong, t'. I suppose living - seeing - so much has t' impart wisdom. The Force may motivate him, but it never makes up his mind for him.

That certainly was true. Many was the time Qui-Gon had seen his Master do things that seemed contrary to common sense, popular wisdom, the advice of the other Councilors, and the Force, much less against the advice of his own Padawan. And ninety-nine times out of one hundred, Yoda's idea had been for the best.

You are undoubtedly right, Obi-Wan. I, too, have yet to meet anyone whose convictions - or plans to the contrary -- can stand up to Master Yoda's. Including, I have a sinking suspicion, the opportunity of our meeting. He paused in his thoughts to give consideration as to where he would be directing the ship once they had departed the Vestion System, and realized that not only did he have no idea, he didn't even have any inspiration. Just that they would not be going back to the children's guardian on Onyx.

Maybe something would come to him. Of course, what he really wanted to do was set the ship's heading into neutral, unoccupied space, and spend the next few hours seeing to Obi-Wan. And maybe even get in some sleep.

So, you were also chosen early as a Padawan, Obi-Wan? He knew the dates, but not the circumstances.

Nae as early as you. I was eleven.

Qui-Gon could see within Obi-Wan's mind the first meeting between a then, terribly small Obi-Wan and the hulking, non-human Sardenk a'Thuul. While the Trandoshan had not stood quite at Qui-Gon's current height of six foot, four inches, his imposing demeanor, alien musculature and features had made quite an impression on all of the young initiates that day. Since few were the youngsters who could interpret feelings or expression without the visual clues absorbed from birth in watching their own species interact, and from learning their own responses, Obi-wan, the initiate, had had no idea the Trandoshan Master had even noticed him beyond being a nuisance to be dealt with, much less that the Master had judged him suitable Padawan material. Little had been read in a face with scales too tough to wrinkle, and a mouth set within a muzzle instead of on a chin.

Master a'Thuul had been asked t' assist in the third form saber class, Obi-Wan further explained the memory vision. I managed t' surprise and disarm him in our first exchange. Instead o' seeming angry o' embarrassed, he --

He knew he had found the perfect partner to aid in his field work, and asked if you would consent to being his Padawan.

Although Obi-Wan was careful not to shrug -- he had been careful to risk any movement at all since regaining consciousness -- Qui-Gon could sense the shrug in his thoughts.

Yes, but nae as perfect as he might hae hoped for. It took me another three years before I ever disarmed him again.

Although there was a trace of self deprecation there, little false humility came through with it. Whether a'Thuul had misjudged Obi-Wan or not at eleven, Obi-Wan had become the formidable fighter a'Thuul had expected, and no dissembling would ever counter that.

How old was Xanatos when you chose him, Master?

Also eleven. But I was twenty-six when I took my first Padawan.

Your first? But you're nae old enough t' hae already trained two apprentices!

Qui-Gon found himself blushing at Obi-Wan's shock, and had to laugh at his reaction. He didn't remember ever blushing so often in the past few years as he had in the past few hours.

I was Jedi Katr'nek's Master for two years. Her first Master was one of those who died during the epidemics on Yavin IV which, as you probably were taught, returned many Jedi to the Force. Katr'nek had been so close to her trials that Master Yoda and the Council decided even I couldn't mess up her training, despite my inexperience.

Obviously nae t' badly, Master. Knight Katr'nek be a marvelous Jedi.

Qui-Gon felt pleasure course through him at Obi-Wan's opinion both of his first Padawan's ability, and of his own. But in truth, Qui-Gon had done little but watch over Katr'nek's final days of apprenticeship, trying to ensure she didn't fall into too much of a depression or aggression after her Master's untimely death. Any positive outcome of their time together was due to her strength of will and character much more than to his teachings.

So much like the one beside him. Qui-Gon did hope, however, that he would be doing a little more than just watching over Obi-Wan in the year or so before this Padawan's trials.

And I am sure that with you as his Master, Xanatos has become a fine Knight t', Obi-Wan was continuing. I look forward t' meeting him.

Feeling a mild flutter that had nothing to do with pride this time, Qui-Gon on the one hand, looked forward to introducing Obi-Wan as his new Padawan to everyone. And as his lover to a special few. But he had to wonder just how Xan would react to either revelation. Despite the young Knight having made it clear that he was now his own man, that he no longer needed nor wanted to be at his Master's side, Xanatos had never been someone who liked to share. And if his former Padawan had come to reassess his own feelings during their recent time apart, especially in light of what Qui-Gon had at last admitted to him, Xanatos would not deal at all well with having been replaced. Especially so quickly.

Qui-Gon?

Without realizing it, the Jedi Master had automatically shielded these private thoughts, shunting them back to the cold, lonely place so many of his thoughts of Xan seemed to occupy. But this time someone had noticed.

Sorry, Obi-Wan, he apologized, dropping much of his shielding again. I get … there are … difficulties right now with Xan. He sent all of his burgeoning affection through their link to make sure that Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was not blaming him for any future difficulties that would likely arise and add to an already troubled relationship between a former Master and former Padawan. I think Xan will want to meet you too.

But he couldn't quite help wondering whether Xan would be happy to meet his replacement. This relationship should be a relief for Xanatos; his former Master finding someone else which would mean no more pestering - or misplaced guilt for not returning the feelings on Xan's part. Qui-Gon also hoped that Xan would at least find happiness in Qui-Gon's happiness. Even had there never been romantic feelings on both sides, they had once loved one another at least like father and son. So much so, that Xan had chosen Qui-Gon over his own father when presented with the opportunity to give up being a Jedi and gain the rule of a world in his father's stead.

Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan react to the sudden melancholy of Qui-Gon's thoughts. Or perhaps to his new Padawan's own memories of youth. Or their current situation. He had slowly turned his head back from Qui-Gon and was carefully rearranging himself within the confines of the seat and web-like gravity restraints, his mind reaching for a stillness that preceded meditation. Or sleep.

Either being a good idea.

Try to get some sleep, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon encouraged; one of them should. He was not quite yet ready to make it an order, or to reinforce the command with one of his 'tricks', but the need was close as he sensed the losing battle Obi-Wan was having in fighting back his exhaustion and pain.

It will be a long four days back to Coruscant, and --

"Coruscant?" Surprise fed adrenaline through Obi-Wan's lassitude and he jerked at the spike of agony speaking had caused in throat and inner ear. He didn't repeat that mistake. But the wee ones are expected t' be returned t' their guardian on Onyx!

Until he had said Coruscant, Qui-Gon hadn't actually realized he had made up his mind as to where they were going. Still, Coruscant felt right.

As those who have attacked us are undoubtedly aware. It looked as if Qui-Gon would need to use a trick or two after all, to counter this new agitation he had caused in Obi-Wan. He laced his thoughts with serenity, using tone and tempo to soothe despite the contrariness of his words.

If you are right about it being their own father who is behind this trouble, I will not endanger the children by putting them so near his hands again.

He could sense Obi-Wan's agreement in not wanting to further endanger the children. But Obi-Wan wasn't ready to accept just what else that would entail.

But the Council's orders --

It was time to let his new Padawan in on a few realities that probably should have come up before they had bonded. At least as Master and apprentice.

The Council and I do not always agree on how I interpret my duty, Obi-Wan. He still kept the emotions behind his thoughts very calm, not trying to subsume or influence the other's will, just direct it by offering an example. I am afraid some of the things you may learn from me will not be to their liking.

He could feel Obi-Wan fight not only for serenity, but for objectivity. Obi-Wan's thoughts fell to how this would affect his own standing with the Council should he partner with Qui-Gon, and how it might set back his preparations for his trials of Knighthood. But Qui-Gon could also feel Obi-Wan assessing the depth of their bond, and his own feelings on having a bond. Acceptance began to overwhelm concern. As did a wry amusement.

Why d' I feel it will be my task t' play mediator? Obi-Wan offered. You d' know I hae had little training in diplomacy and negotiations?

Maybe that was another of Master Yoda's reason for bringing us together? Qui-Gon released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as once again another potential problem to their bond was acknowledged and determined less important. How better for a Padawan to learn, than by having to make excuses for or to outwit his own Master?

That brought laughter to Obi-Wan's lips, then an immediate groan. Och, please dinna make me laugh, Master.

Qui-Gon took a hand away from the controls again and brushed across the top of Obi-Wan's head, sending what little extra energy he had into the youth. And once again he found himself brushing Obi-Wan's cheek, and only just able to restrain himself from rubbing his thumb against the other's too tempting lips.

Actually in this instance I do not think the Council will object to my reinterpreting our orders. Although he had never felt a need to explain himself to Xanatos when he disagreed with the Council, he often had done so anyway. And he could do no less for Obi-Wan. Besides, I can always claim that since I was involved in this mission on the behalf of Chancellor Valorum and not so much the Council, I felt a responsibility to turn the children over to him instead of their governess and bodyguards.

He could feel the start of a grin beneath his fingers, but also the calm Obi-Wan had again achieved.

Yew could dice logic with the best o' the barristers, Master. O' one o' the Christian devils.

While you could charm a wish out of any pagan god, my Padawan.

I will take that as a compliment, since Apprentices never talk back or disparage their Masters.

Och, are yew in for a surprise then, Master! But I will nae d' so in pub --

A small light in front of Qui-Gon began to blink and he jerked his hand away from Obi-Wan. Oh by all the Gods above and below, those little ... He turned his attention back to the board but couldn't find -- he didn't know where -

Where what, Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan's calmness was now in distinct contrast to Qui-Gon's mounting rage and frustration, and served to steady the Jedi Master.

Are these ships usually equipped with some sort of communications dampener or scramble field, Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan pulled up out of the slouch he had relaxed back into and tried to peer at his side of the flight board. He blinked steadily and wiped at his eyes, then closed them in frustration and leaned again back into his seat. There, he said suddenly, his thoughts picturing a small black switch in his and Qui-Gon's mind.

Qui-Gon flipped that switch while using a few of those choice curses Obi-Wan had earlier suppressed. Part of him marveled at Obi-Wan's patience in not asking what was happening.

The captain of this ship has a private communications device within his cabin, Qui-Gon explained while simultaneously trying to look for any other potentials for surprises.

Which the wee ones found. Not remotely a question on Obi-Wan's part.

Qui-Gon nodded without thinking about the other not being able to see it. They sent out a message, broad beam, on the commercial and military bands --

That can be traced back. Without being asked or told, Obi-Wan directed his seat a little more forward and poised his hands above the ship's controls on his side of the board. Just direct me to a reference point and I can --

Obi-Wan, you are in no shape to fly --

What I am in nae shape t' deal with, Qui-Gon - Master -- be the bairns. Please. I can d' this.

Despite misgivings, Qui-Gon rose from his chair. Ship alarms were visual and audio, neither of which Obi-Wan could make use of right now. But he carefully directed Obi-Wan's hands to the proper set of flight controls, holding on for just a moment longer than necessary.

I know enough o' this type ship, Master. And I even think I may hae bragged once o' twice about being able t' fly its predecessor in my sleep. This way I will finally be able t' collect on the wager. Indeed, Obi-Wan's fingers moved across the board with a sureness that Qui-Gon could not ignore.

I shouldn't be long, Padawan. Certainly not long enough for outside trouble to find the ship unless they were already being targeted. Even if the children's father had a small fleet in orbit around Haven, he and Obi-Wan had left the planet's atmosphere near an hour ago. The communiqué he just interrupted might let the trackers zero in on the ship, but they had a disadvantage of time and distance to the first jump point. All Obi-Wan would have to do was not pick a hyperspace destination that someone else could predict. Which meant no Coruscant. At least not yet.

Can you handle the first jump into hyperspace if it is random, Obi-Wan? I'll deal with the children, then come back and help you plan a new heading or series of headings home.

Of course, Qui-Gon's idea of dealing with the children was to put them so far asleep that another would call it a coma. Yet all he likely needed to do was find them another room where they couldn't get into any more mischief, or to remove any items from the room they were in that could cause further trouble. Then he could return to the bridge and his duties there.

As you wish, Master. Obi-Wan was definitely doing more with the flight controls that Qui-Gon had - than Qui-Gon knew to do. And he showed no evidence of having picked up on Qui-Gon's uncharitable idea for the children. But then, Try t' remember that the bairns nae be Jedi, though, Master, he continued. They be used t' getting anything they want, and probably be scared t' death despite what they say o' d'. Yer glower would probably be a little t' much right now.

I am not glowering. But, of course, he was. And Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan knew it.

Go, Qui-Gon. An' may the Force be wit' you.

Said as if Qui-Gon was going off to fight some epic battle. But maybe Obi-Wan was right. The younger Jedi had, after all, been dealing with the children for almost a day before Qui-Gon had caught up to the four of them.

Not a battle perhaps, but still a skirmish. And that had taken long enough for Qui-Gon to feel their seamless transfer into hyperspace. Even being gone longer, he found his anxiety lessening when he thought about Obi-Wan; certainly the ship was in better hands, nor did it appear as if Obi-Wan's injuries were keeping him from being able to execute the piloting duties. None of that meant, however, that Qui-Gon still didn't need/want to return to the bridge as quickly as possible, just that his definition of quickly had somewhat changed. For after seeing the good food and a quick chance at bathing had done for the children, he wanted to offer similar measures of comfort to Obi-Wan.

So the Jedi Master headed back into the tiny galley and put together another simple meal, raiding stores of real and fresh foods instead of trotting out the standard nutrient bars or Jedi ration cubes that would have been his other option. He also found kaffe, and while it wasn't tea, it was still a pleasant surprise. Undoubtedly the Jedi Temple would be charged dearly for using the provisions from the captain's private special stores instead of the very basic survival supplies laid in, but Qui-Gon figured the usage was deserved.

And needed.

Qui-Gon had also found a small measure of first aid supplies before leaving the children drowsing in their cabin, which he fully intended to use up over the course of their journey as necessary, just as he likely would the food and kaffe.

His final stop was back to the cabin he had used on the inbound trip. From the case he had stored away, Qui-Gon gathered up his last robe, a fresh tunic and leggings. The clothing would be far too big for Obi-Wan, but a damn site more comfortable -- and warmer -- than the wet jacket and pants that were all his Padawan had now after having to abandon all of his own possessions back on Haven. And with a belt …

I'm back, Obi-Wan, he called out as he ducked through the hatchway to the bridge. Qui-Gon hadn't wanted to startle Obi-Wan, but couldn't just make noise to warn of his pending arrival. And he couldn't be sure the other would have sensed him just from his presence; only duty and a sense of responsibility was keeping Obi-Wan awake at this point. Any problems?

Obi-Wan's no was offered sharply. He had been startled regardless of how Qui-Gon had hoped not to, and had not been able to fully contain his body's reaction to his surprise. Which had undoubtedly aggravated any number of pains. Not to mention might have tugged a little on his Padawan's pride.

I can't give you any medication for the headache since it's from the concussion, Padawan, but maybe some old fashioned comfort will do instead. Qui-Gon limped forward far enough to kneel and place the tray of food and the offerings of clothing on the unused, rear navigator's chair. Do you think things can manage on their own for the time it will take me to help get you get out of your clothing and into something that's dry and warm?

No embarrassment for either the thought of stripping off his clothes, or for just how eager Obi-Wan was to do so, Jedi modesty and tranquillity notwithstanding. Qui-Gon had been quite eager himself to dress in more than just the exchanging of his jacket for a robe, as he had done when first bringing the children onto the ship. He could well understand Obi-Wan's desire for both the warmth and a more undefined comfort. It was actually quite rare when a Jedi couldn't wear his robe and tunics to complete his mission; to be without felt … wrong.

Actually, be there some sort o' bathing facilities I can use first? Obi-Wan asked as he set the auto-pilot, then rose, keeping a tight hold to the back of his chair for balance.

Qui-Gon also stood and moved to Obi-Wan's side immediately. While it was obvious Obi-Wan had a good sense of where Qui-Gon stood within the parameters of the bridge, Obi-Wan had not seen the actual layout, nor knew if the pilot had installed any changes to customize it from the standard bulk freighter.

Not yet, Padawan, he said gently. I don't think we can afford both of us off the bridge, and you are not up to standing without support for any length of time, especially somewhere you could slip even without your current physical limitations. Qui-Gon could feel the other try to gather up enough energy to protest, so let him simply step away from the chair. Obi-Wan needed assistance to take even a second step, so the protest died inarticulated.

Quickly sliding one hand under Obi-Wan's elbow, Qui-Gon set the other against the small of Obi-Wan's back. It took them a surprising length of time to cover the short distance between the two sets of seats and equipment, and by the time they arrived, both men were sweating. And needing to sit down.

What I will do is heat some water and wash away as much as I can, Qui-Gon promised as he eased Obi-Wan down to sit on a blanket he had laid out near the food. He then helped Obi-Wan out of the jacket and wrapped a second blanket around the shoulders that now visibly showed their trembling. The robe would be saved for after he helped his Padawan clean off some of the mud and grime. And blood.

I want you to eat a little for me, at least some of the soup to warm you up on the inside, he sent. I'll be back with warm water and washing cloths. He directed Obi-Wan's hands and fingers again to identify the placement of the utensils, fruit plate and the two cups. He then placed the soup cup directly in Obi-Wan's hands.

If I can find a bowl or bucket big enough, I should probably even be able to rinse out your hair.

It had been at Master Yoda's feet that Qui-Gon had learned a different set of the healing techniques than those taught to true Jedi Healers. And one of the most useful lessons had been about the comfort that courtesies and simple tasks like being clean could provide to both the giver and the recipient. A healing beyond the easing of physical hurts.

Thank you, Master. Obi-Wan accepted the cup, again exhibiting no shame or embarrassment that Qui-Gon had not offered him a bowl that might have been spilled due to his body's weakness. Still he didn't drink, didn't do anything other than clutch it rather tightly. Qui-Gon hid a smile and placed a finger under the cup to direct it upward.

Now, please, Obi-Wan. If it is that warm to your hands, imagine how good it will feel down your throat. It's not like I will leave until you at least begin.

That be a supposed inducement, Master. I drink and yew leave? Maybe I want both.

Qui-Gon watched the flush bring color to the pale cheeks, then the shy smile that widened beyond what the cup blocked. Obviously Obi-Wan had not had someone to care for him in some time, and found the attention disconcerting as well as a relief.

It is whatever you need it to be, Obi-Wan. Just as I am. And he waited.

After the first tentative sip, Obi-Wan let out a breath that was almost a sigh of contentment and turned his head Qui-Gon's direction. Thank you, Master.

You are most welcome. And now Qui-Gon could leave again.

Upon his return to the bridge with several containers of both hot and tepid water, Qui-Gon found that Obi-Wan had moved only so far as to tuck himself between the chair and the navigation console, placing his back into the corner they formed so that he could relax further and lean his head against something. He had finished all of the soup and half of the kaffe, had even nibbled on a couple of the pieces of fruit. And had peeled out of his boots and jeans, nestling into the large blanket which fit around his bared body two full times. Obi-Wan wasn't quite asleep, but it was a close thing.

Obi-Wan?

This time Obi-Wan was relaxed enough not to be surprised by Qui-Gon's arrival. He even opened his eyes, though Qui-Gon doubted he could make out anything more than a blur, if that. Still, Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's eyes brighten, as did his emotions upon his return.

In seeing that, so did Qui-Gon's heart.

Let's take care of your eyes and ears first, shall we? Qui-Gon knew the ruptured eardrums would heal on their own within a few days, but didn't want to subject Obi-Wan to the discomfort or deafness any longer than necessary. That the two of them could communicate regardless had been a blessing that shouldn't have been possible given how little they knew each other; full telepathic mindspeech was not actually a common trait for Jedi, not like empathy which seemed almost universal.

Unfortunately there was little Qui-Gon could do for Obi-Wan's eyes. Either they would heal relatively quickly on their own, or it would take a concerted effort by the Healers back in Coruscant to undo the damage. He didn't foresee any need for ocular transplants or replacements, thank the Force. Qui-Gon would clean them so at least that discomfort could be offset.

As he knelt, Obi-Wan moved so that Qui-Gon could slide next to the wall too, but that wasn't exactly what the Master had in mind. He set down yet another tray, then tugged carefully on the blanket under Obi-Wan's legs to move him outward. With the Force he made sure Obi-Wan didn't lose his balance in this, nor as he then used his hands to draw Obi-Wan back until he lay across Qui-Gon's lap with his head hanging over an empty basin. Qui-Gon next tucked a towel around Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders, studiously avoiding the glimpse of bared flesh so exposed by having to reposition the blanket. He could only hope the Gods of his ancestors would grant them at least ten more minutes of peace. If an emergency arose now, they were not in a position easy to extract from without further damage being done.

Dipping one of the smaller cloths he had found into a bowl of clean water, Qui-Gon began to wash away the dried blood that still practically painted Obi-Wan's entire face and neck red. Soon the two basins began to equalize out with the amount of water filling them, and with the red. He had also gone through three cloths that now couldn't be rinsed clean.

All of the water went back into one bowl and Qui-Gon called with the Force to reach a third still filled with clean water. Although the water had grown more tepid than he had hoped, he didn't want to take the time or effort to heat it again. Instead he grabbed up two more cloths, one rougher for use in cleaning Obi-Wan's hair, the other he simply dampened and laid over Obi-Wan's eyes. Then he took his time to untangle the braid.

Obi-Wan had endured the first of Qui-Gon ministrations in silence and patience, but after a few minutes of cleaning and massaging Obi-Wan's scalp, his Padawan was back to being nearly asleep, and relaxed to the point of being relatively boneless. He had made only a slight wince when Qui-Gon needed to linger to insure the head wound was thoroughly cleaned. Fresh blood had welled, but not for long.

If you can lean just a little further down, I'd like to rinse your eyes, Obi-wan, then your ears.

Obi-Wan didn't nod or respond in any fashion other than complying. With a supple roll of his shoulders and a slight arch to his back he moved just enough. The blanket slipped open yet again, unplanned Qui-Gon knew, for he could sense that Obi-Wan was still quite cold and did not intend to lose such comfort until he was wrapped up in the promised robe. Nor was this the time or circumstance for Qui-Gon to be looking at the body stretched over his lap in any manner other than clinically.

Heart and groin chose to disagree, especially after Obi-Wan's now opened eyes showed pupils wide in response to Qui-Gon's stalled movements.

Qui-Gon?

The question formed in Obi-Wan's thoughts, while Qui-Gon's body responded with the answer.

Obi-Wan's knowing chuckle did little to help Qui-Gon's control, until it turned into groan. Dammit, Master, yew are nae suppose t' make me laugh.

"We're almost done with this part, Obi-Wan," he said neutrally. The rinse, then a bit of healing.

Because reflex kept Obi-Wan from being able to keep his eyes fully open as water trickled over - and Qui-Gon did not want to use Force or fingers to override the already traumatized nerves - by the time he finished with also rinsing Obi-Wan's ears, he no longer had enough water to clean Obi-Wan's arms and chest.

I'll have to get more.

Obi-Wan nodded sleepily. Qui-Gon had the feeling that if he had suggested anything, Obi-Wan would have simply nodded. While part of the sleepiness was due to a well-deserved exhaustion, being relaxed and feeling well cared for was also evident in his response.

Qui-Gon took the time to check over the board and proximity sensors, then retrieved his tray to exchange cold, stained water for fresh and warm. He took a few more minutes to drink down a cup of soup for his own well being, and set two more cups of kaffe next to the filled basins and bowls. Perhaps if he was lucky, Obi-Wan would feel up to washing himself when he returned. Well, actually unlucky, but better for his peace of mind. And his Force-enflamed libido.

Qui-Gon was reminded of a cat when he returned. Obi-Wan had moved to sit up again, but had draped his arms and part of his upper body over the seat of rear navigator's station instead of tucking himself back into the relative corner. The position looked damn uncomfortable yet Qui-Gon could see the care that had been taken in the arrangement of posture and limbs. Obi-Wan had draped his body so that it was supported and stretched enough to keep from falling over, yet not enough to aggravate the pull on his broken ribs, the knife wound, or any of the other myriad of bruises and deep tissue damage that lay just under the blanket out of sight, but not out of mind.

This time at Qui-Gon's arrival, Obi-Wan's eyes had opened just as he had crossed the bridge threshold, and something in their gray depths let the Jedi Master know he was being seen instead of just sensed. Indeed, Obi-Wan rippled his shoulders just as Qui-Gon was kneeling at his side again and repositioning the tray, which displaced the blanket that then dropped into mountains of fold about his waist.

You keep giving me too many options to try and heal, Obi-Wan, he frowned, seeing how far new bruising had spread and darkened. I wish I had the skill --

Obi-Wan reached over to stop Qui-Gon's apology with gentle fingers, quickly letting them drop when he couldn't control their shaking. Anything that you do is better than I've managed on my own, Master. And it's not like I haven't worked injured before. At least all I have left to do is pilot a ship.

No, all you have to do next is sleep, Obi-Wan. I can pilot the ship. Qui-Gon found himself glad not to turn this next cleaning task over to Obi-Wan despite his initial misgivings. Control was easily enough maintained, and comfort was being received as well as given.

The fact that they hadn't been found yet despite the communications sending from the children seemed to indicate they had won the race away from Haven. Though not expected, of course, it would be wonderful if all they had left to do for the next few days was sleep and pilot the ship. Talk. And get warm. Heal. Eat some more. Sleep some more. Learn everything about each other's hopes and dreams. Explore each other's body, their likes and dislikes. Fall in love all over again.

You will let me relieve you in a couple of hours? Obi-Wan finally asked, no longer able to pretend that he'd be able to stay awake much longer even if Qui-Gon wasn't pressing him to sleep.

Yes. Your eyesight is better? Qui-Gon cut away all of the old, damp strips plastered around Obi-Wan's torso and wiped away any residual water or blood. He had earlier found enough real bandages to be able to replace them several times if necessary, starting right now.

I can make out shapes and shadows. Not enough to read symbols by. You'll still have to handle anything but a random navigational plot.

Fair enough. After finishing with bandaging Obi-Wan's chest again, he spent a little time tracing the slowly fading scar on Obi-Wan's neck and could not suppress a shudder at how close its cause had come to several tendons, artery and life. Likely Obi-Wan would keep a faint scar here as the medical personal had been rushed in their stitching and, if bacta had been applied at the first bandaging, it had not been since.

He found evidence of a few more scars like that, trophies of missions long ago consigned to memory, but his exploration was stopped short by the handful of old indents in Obi-Wan's arm. A handful indeed. Exactly a handful and of the size, shape and spacing of a humanoid's claws, not an animal's. Humanoid like a Trandoshan.

It nae be what you think, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan made an effort to rouse himself, and even turned to look at the old scars himself, though even if he could see them, he wouldn't be seeing them as they were now. I got them on my first mission with Master a'Thuul. And yes, they be his claw marks, but because he saved my life, nae from some sort o' punishment o' mistreatment.

Qui-Gon had a moment of shame. Padawan abuse was not common, was actually practically unheard of in the entire tens of thousands of years of there being Jedi. Only the dark Sith had allegedly used pain and abuse as training tools, and any Jedi with similar thoughts were either counseled or dismissed. Despite his need to dislike a'Thuul, Qui-Gon knew the Trandoshan could never have progressed far enough in the ranks to take on a Padawan if he hadn't been worthy.

What happened?

Obi-Wan traced the imprints with his fingertips, then found Qui-Gon's hand with his own and entwined them. We were on some Outer Rim planet, helping a small village evacuate from their invading neighbors who had chosen t' attack during the monsoon season. All normal routes had been either trapped, washed out in floods o' mud slides, o' overrun an' guarded by the enemy, leaving us only an old vine an' plank bridge t' use t' get them t' safety. Well, o' course, the bridge dinna hold, nae after a ten-day o' steady rain t' wash away its supports. I had just started across wit' a laddie t' small t' make the walk on his own when the hillside started t' shift an' the far-side anchors just gave way.

Qui-Gon tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's hand. The imagery was as vivid as Obi-Wan's memories and for a moment he could almost know a'Thuul the way Obi-Wan had.

We were lucky the slide be on the far side, Obi-Wan was continuing. If'n had happened on our side, we all would have fallen t' our deaths in the gorge a few hundred feet below. As it was, Master a'Thuul was able t' grab hold o' one o' the guide ropes wit' one hand and me wit' his other, while I kept hold o' the wee one. Because there be also three adults ahead o' me, on the collapsing bridge, Master a'Thuul needed t' use the Force t' catch an' levitate them, leaving only his strength and grip t' hold ont' me until a couple o' the other adults could figure out how t' rig more ropes t' cross back an' then finally bring us up. I hae n'er seen such a demonstration o' the use o' the Force e'er then, and was impressed as well as grateful. I mean, it could hae been worse, I could hae been facing death wit'out someone else being needing me, an' that be the only reason I dinna panic. That child relying me on keeping him alive, an' me relying on Master a'Thuul. I could hae had the scars removed, o' course, but I felt I needed the reminder that even when doing their best, sometimes Jedi dinna always d' enough.

And the scar on your chin? Qui-Gon asked, using his lips and tongue to trace that one.

Whip, was all Obi-Wan offered, before retreating behind shields.

Qui-Gon didn't push. There would be a few secrets between them yet. He pressed a tender kiss as an apology against that scar, then the one on Obi-Wan's neck, before reaching for the tunic he had laid aside with the robe and leggings. Let's get you dressed and warm, Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was shaking again, from undisclosed memories as well as cold. He let Qui-Gon ease his arms first into the oversized tunic, then the robe. Qui-Gon used his own belt as a further brace across Obi-Wan's ribs, as well to position the tunic so it wouldn't fall off, or chafe against the burns.

Qui-Gon, is nae that I dinna want t' --

Shh, Obi-Wan. And he pressed more kissed against those lips. We have a lifetime to tell each other about our pasts. Right now you should be thinking only about healing and sleep. You've your choice of me dealing with your concussion, the knife wound, your ribs or your ears. Which would you prefer?

Now freshly scrubbed, blood no longer hid the bruising beneath Obi-Wan's eyes. Once Qui-Gon wrapped him up within his robe, Obi-Wan again looked to be no more than twelve. Maybe fourteen. Except for those decidedly stormier blue-gray - and red -- eyes. They looked almost as old as Master Yoda's.

I dinna suppose I could convince you t' use your energy on your own wounds?

Qui-Gon traced these bruises with his thumb. Not until we get you started, my Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sighed and lay his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder. The Jedi Master did nothing but hold him close for almost a minute, then carefully eased Obi-Wan back. Obi-Wan?

I miss hearing the sound o' your voice, Master. O' hearing your heartbeat. If I can hear either each morning and evening as my first and last awareness, then I will know that I am home no matter where we may be.

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat. He had no words to offer in return, couldn't even echo the wish as that would diminish the offering. He could only shift and lean forward, placing his hands to either side of Obi-Wan's head so that he could at least give Obi-Wan back the inspiration of his gift. And found himself again caught by Obi-Wan's eyes, this time not by the world-weariness and pain that should not have been present in one so young, but by the love reflected within. Once again their link pulsed with their twining emotions.

How I do love thee, Obi-Wan.

I love you t', Qui-Gon. But if you keep looking at me like that, I will nae be able t' even think about leaving this room, much less sleeping. Obi-Wan brought a hand up to smooth away the furrow that had formed between Qui-Gon's eyebrows.

Heat and intense joy now flowed along their bond and Qui-Gon's sense of purpose was nearly subsumed by demands of their joining, by the feel of Obi-Wan's warm, moist breath falling rhythmically against his beard. Despite what their minds had been telling them, for a moment neither man seemed quite so ready to worry about something so inconsequential as a little deafness or pain.

You are not helping, imp. Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath and wrenched his gaze from Obi-Wan's. If he could just keep his attention on his own hands he would be fine. And if he could stop their shaking.

Was I supposed t' help, Qui-Gon? Now Obi-Wan's thoughts held as much heat as his eyes, and his second hand came up to join the first in a mirror of Qui-Gon's position although he kept his hands on the Jedi Master's brow instead of his temple. It was my understanding that a Master's job was t' look out for their Padawan. T' take care o' all their training. And needs.

Qui-Gon found his eyes dropping down from his hands and Obi-Wan's eyes, to the lips that didn't yet move with words as Obi-Wan slipped his tongue out to wet them. Qui-Gon's resolve nearly broke yet again.

Are you saying you have needs I am not addressing? Much to Qui-Gon's surprise, it was actually easier to begin the healing this way, conversing with innuendo instead of maintaining full concentration in the Force. Or maybe it was just his libido filling in with extra energy that after the evening they had just had, Qui-Gon wouldn't have expected he could command.

There might be one o' two aspects of training I will need a great deal of instruction -- and practice -- my Master. Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath. "And I very much look forward to learning my duties to you." Those last words were offered out loud and as much to the air as to Qui-Gon. As if Obi-Wan feared rejection from either. From both. But he then smiled, first in reaction to the absence of additional pain speaking had caused, then from the expression and emotion Qui-Gon offered in return.

Trailing his fingers down Obi-Wan's throat, Qui-Gon said, "You've lost your accent, Obi-Wan."

Or started it again, he thought, but didn't ask. This explanation would have to be something Obi-Wan offered without additional prompting, as Qui-Gon felt certain the reason of the changing accent lay somewhere in his Padawan's past with his former Master. About whom Qui-Gon had become decidedly and perhaps unfairly biased.

A quiet laugh sounded, again as much in the pleasure of being able to do so as from a response. "A conditioned response to knowing we're heading back to Coruscant, I suspect, Master."

At Obi-Wan's gesture, Qui-Gon helped him rise, then leaned back down to gather up and offer the leggings. He pointedly turned away before the blanket was dropped and the robe opened, remaining close enough, however, if Obi-Wan needed to reach out for balance.

"Master a'Thuul found my natural speech hard to understand." Only once did Obi-Wan need to catch hold of Qui-Gon. Then, "You can turn back around."

Since Obi-Wan's face was about as red as Qui-Gon's felt, Qui-Gon figured he didn't need to make any comment about how they both chose to handle this most recent evidence of their bonding. Except to tisk when he saw just how much Obi-Wan swam in his clothes. "It's a Caledonian accent, isn't it?"

The leather belt Obi-Wan had worn around his pants was still damp, but would be needed despite the one he wore around the tunic. As would rolling up the cuffs. For about five inches. Qui-Gon directed Obi-Wan to sink into the seat of the nearest chair, then knelt down again and started rolling.

"You've a good ear, Master. Not many people have even heard o' the planet, much less would be able t' identify the accent." He moved his foot back quickly when Qui-Gon tested the edge with a wandering finger.

Ticklish. Something to definitely note for the future.

"Did you ever learn your native language, Obi-Wan?"

The sudden scowl let Qui-Gon know that his Padawan was quite aware of what that touch had been testing, but Obi-Wan then relaxed when Qui-Gon sent wordless reassurance that nothing like that would be happening when any reflexive moment would be dangerous and painful.

"Not as well as I would like. My crèche Master didn't feel it a necessary part o' first studies, figuring I would decide if I wanted to learn it when I was an initiate, then take it as part of my Padawan studies." He shrugged very carefully. "I didn't have much time to study ... obscure languages, with so many others more necessary." With a lift again of those kissable fingers, Obi-Wan forestalled the new comment Qui-Gon was about to make about a'Thuul.

"And Master a'Thuul was right, Qui-Gon. I understand a lot more languages than I ever expected to have to learn, and can speak fairly fluently in about half of them. I didn't need to be spending my study time on something I would likely never use."

Qui-Gon kept his tongue, and grabbed for Obi-Wan's boots next. Even if Obi-Wan needed wear them only as far as to the stateroom, Qui-Gon had intended they be worn so Obi-Wan would need endure no more heat lost. Unfortunately, like the belt, the leather was still damp. And pretty much skin tight, making Qui-Gon fear a pair of his thick socks wouldn't work being worn first, even if they had been the right size.

Unless he wore just the socks?

"You do realize you have just challenged me to make sure one of our first assignments together will be on Caledonia?" Qui-Gon started to grin, but that changed to a frown when he considered the boots again.

Even the leggings were proving difficult to wearing the boots, as there was not enough give to pull leather up over the rolls of material. The boots would need be pulled up under the pants instead of over. Which would keep the dampness against Obi-Wan's skin, and keep him from warming up despite anything else they did.

"How about you go without the boots?" The leggings were actually long enough to cover Obi-Wan's feet anyway, and could thus keep them dry and warm. At least until the boots finally dried out.

"Sure." Obi-Wan was still careful about not nodding.

"But no sliding on the decks, young man." Qui-Gon again grinned and used the discarded blanket to make sure Obi-Wan's feet were dry before he rolled the leggings back down.

That brought out a laugh, and the inevitable groan from the pull on his ribs. And brought back Qui-Gon's decisiveness to get Obi-Wan into one of the beds right away. He helped him stand up again. And decided he didn't have to let him go for them to manage the passageway.

"Then you actually speak Caledonian, Master?" Obi-Wan asked. He moved his arms carefully to see just how badly the robe hung on down and certainly didn't need to cross his arms over his chest to have his hands disappear up the sleeves. "I understand the natives are not t' big on Basic there, which would make a trip difficult if both of us were deficient," Obi-Wan continued in response to Qui-Gon's threat to get them posted to a mission on his native planet.

"Not really, but Eiren shares many common words and phrases, and that I do read and speak fluently. I am sure we could make do." For a moment Qui-Gon debated the wisdom of them leaving the bridge simultaneously, but decided the time would be short enough before he returned; the proximity sensor still had registered nothing to concern them.

"Well, let's get back to Coruscant first before you decide on where we journey to next." Now, even more than before, Obi-Wan looked like a little boy in his father's clothes. Which was an image Qui-Gon wasn't exactly comfortable with given their burgeoning relationship.

He was twice Obi-Wan's age.

"I could never think of you as my father, Qui-Gon." And Obi-Wan rose up on his fuzzily-covered toes to reach again for Qui-Gon's chin. Nor was the kiss they exchanged at all similar to something given between a son and father.

There was nothing childlike - nothing remotely even innocent -- in that kiss whatsoever.

Desire smoldered again in Obi-Wan's eyes, turning them nearly as blue as Qui-Gon's own. When Qui-Gon raised his hands back to Obi-Wan's cheeks, shying away from tightening the contact between the rest of their bodies only because doing such would add stress to already overtaxed injuries, Obi-Wan simply tilted his head and traced Qui-Gon's fingers with the tip of his tongue.

Qui-Gon caught his breath and nearly jerked his hand back in surprise. It wasn't that the touch felt bad, or wrong. Quite the contrary in fact, as Qui-Gon's instant erection made itself known. And he could sense the action was not meant to tease, that Obi-Was was well aware that neither of them were in any shape to continue too far. But the contact was also a need in Obi-Wan. To touch and explore, to feel something stronger than pain even for just a few seconds. Part of that need was directly related to the flush of energy Qui-Gon had offered with the healing. Obi-Wan would be back to feeling pretty miserable and exhausted soon enough, and sought to postpone the downturn for as long as he could.

Live in the moment with me, Qui-Gon.

The slow licks turned to gentle and not so gentle nips full of lips and teeth. Qui-Gon could no longer stand by passively when Obi-Wan then claimed two of his fingers into the moist cavern of his mouth. The Jedi Master withdrew those fingers in a rush that nearly tore skin and wrenched jaw, but then muffled Obi-Wan's moan of regret with his own lips. Immediately after, Qui-Gon plunged his tongue into the warmth that had so lovingly pulled at his fingers, that so willingly opened for him. Obi-Wan tasted of kaffe and soup, and of something elusive yet which Qui-Gon quickly realized he could easily become addicted to. Just as he could the little whimpers and other sounds Obi-Wan was making, and the way the smaller man's responsive body melted under his touch.

Breaking the kiss only long enough to catch a quick breath, Qui-Gon lowered his hands to Obi-Wan's shoulders and eased back the robe, then dragged his fingernails slowly down Obi-Wan's arms while he silently commanded the other to stand still. Even under the cloth of the tunic he could feel Obi-Wan's skin pebble.

As Qui-Gon next traced across Obi-Wan's hipbone then back around the swell to cup the flesh with both palms, Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat and his knees buckled. Qui-Gon quickly caught Obi-Wan up and lifted with no thought to his own injury, encouraging the other's arms and legs to wrap around his body. Qui-Gon could barely mask a groan of his own when their erections came into contact. Obi-Wan arched his back, unmindful of what he pulled against, then threw his head back. Qui-Gon could not resist fastening his lips on that bared throat, nor resist marking it, marking Obi-Wan in a claim of possession as old as there were lovers.

For a moment Qui-Gon debated going further, debated bringing Obi-Wan to release and the resultant lassitude that would easier allow sleep without disruption by dream or conscience. But he didn't know if he would be able to hold onto his own control if he continued, and sleep was not something Qui-Gon could give in to, no matter how much he might enjoy the process leading up to it.

Obi-Wan abruptly shifted under Qui-Gon's hold, tightening their embrace for a few seconds, then bringing his hands to Qui-Gon's shoulders and lowering his legs. He was careful not to slide down Qui-Gon's body, thereby exacerbating their mutual quandary. That he had to tighten his hold on Qui-Gon's shoulders to remain standing was enough to bolster Qui-Gon's control and let them both make the proper decision considering the circumstances.

"We have at least four days to discover how well either of us can maintain our control, Master." He reached up again to offer a kiss, but this time one full of thanks instead of lust.

Qui-Gon nodded. Although Obi-Wan had been suffused with energy and enough pleasure to temporarily override his pain, time and events were again catching up. To them both.

"And a lifetime to discover everything else," he offered with all of his pleasure in acknowledging that future. "I foresee a very interesting life together, my Padawan. And you are either going to make me feel as old as Yoda, or younger than yourself."

The love that shone in Obi-Wan's eyes almost made Qui-Gon's heart stop. "Your perception defines your reality, Master. We are all only as old as we feel."

Gently lifting the fingers from his shoulders just to see if his Padawan could stand on his own, Qui-Gon took a step back. Obi-Wan wavered, but kept his balance. "And how old to you feel right now?"

Acceptance flowed with the love. "Definitely older than Yoda, but not quite as old as the Order."

Qui-Gon laughed. He brushed his fingers across the bruises of fatigue beneath those eyes and steered Obi-Wan back toward the access corridor leading away from the bridge. "I think it might be for the best if you go on alone, Padawan," he suggested. "You will find three cabins aft of the galley. The children are in the first. I had used the third on the way out. Use either the empty one, or mine, as you prefer."

Obi-Wan nodded and took a few steps away, moving slowly in reluctance and care, while Qui-Gon moved back toward the seat at the flight controls.

While he had little doubt which Obi-Wan would end up in, he kept quiet. And it was certainly likely Obi-Wan would chose privacy even from him for at least a part of the trip. Nor would it be a bad idea for the children not to become aware of the evolving relationship between their two protectors; the empty cabin would at least have to look used.

"I have no intention of pretending for four days that you are simply a Jedi Master, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan answered from the hatchway, in anticipation of Qui-Gon's next suggestion. "You are my Jedi Master. And the wee ones have enough of an awareness of what that means to see only what they expect and ignore anything else open to interpretation, so as to not admit their ignorance or naiveté."

Qui-Gon paused before sitting. "They are only ten and seven, Obi-Wan."

"And are political creatures even now." A smile quirked across Obi-Wan's lips "I doubt there would be anything we could do that would shock them." He lifted the hand not holding onto the frame of the hatchway before Qui-Gon could protest. "But I will agree to keeping gestures and declarations to their proper times and places." The smile turned fierce. "As long as you are willing to acknowledge and agree to scheduling such proper times, and finding such proper places."

Qui-Gon found himself nodding with a solemn frown to hide his amusement. Obi-Wan was being quite serious, and had no doubt in his mind that such a demand was his to make, even of a Master. Even of his Master. Yes, in some things their relationship would need to be between equals, perhaps even in more instances than he had anticipated. And just maybe his unwillingness to accept that change so easily with Xanatos had been a big part of what had doomed their future together.

All Qui-Gon knew for sure was that life with his new Padawan would be interesting indeed. And unlike any other Master and apprentice pairing he had ever heard of.

-Finis-