Master Apprentice Archive The Door Into Summer (WIP) Quick search:

The Door Into Summer

by Binky ( BinkyTorture@IKillClowns.com )

Archive: M/A only, please

Feedback: Sure! On or offlist is fine, constructive criticism welcome.

Category: AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama . . . um . . . I think that’s it.

Character pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Disclaimer: I don’t own 'em, I just play with 'em. And I’m mean.

Series: Third part of a monster that began with “Good” followed by “Good--Interlude.”

Summary: The boys must deal with the ramifications of Obi-Wan’s ordeal, along with the problems presented by their unique soulbond.

Author’s Notes: If you haven’t read “Good,” this won’t make a lick of sense. And if you haven’t read “Good--Interlude,” you’ve missed a Vital Clue. (o-ho! weren’t expecting that, were you?) This one takes place about two weeks (tendays) after the boys get back from romping in the snow on Erebassi, and approximately two cycles after the re-formation of the bond.

The title is from a Monkees song that has not a thing to do with this story--but I think it’s appropriate.

//indicates bondspeak//

“Good” can be found here-- http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/g/good.html

--and “Good--Interlude” here-- http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/g/good_interlude.html

"Did you know that my Master died?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied softly. "I'm so sorry, Bruck." He was sorry, for Bruck's sake, but he wasn't the least bit sorry that Kinver Jethyn had taken his own life two cycles ago. He supposed he should feel at least some guilt that the explosive bonding between himself and Qui-Gon had given Jethyn the opportunity to suicide, but he didn't.

Mostly, he just felt relieved.

But he didn't know how much, if any, of that Bruck had been told, and didn't think now was the right time to volunteer the information. Their fledgling friendship was shaky enough without adding undue stress.

Curled up in a chair by the window of his Force-shielded room in the healers ward, Bruck lifted his hand and touched the glass with two fingertips. "I miss him. I know, after all he put me through, that sounds crazy, but--" He made a noise that might have been laughter, once. "--if I wasn't crazy, I wouldn't be in here, right?"

"It's only natural." Obi-Wan, perched on the edge of the bed, shifted uncomfortably. "He's the only Master you've ever had."

"Yeah." Bruck's hand left the window and trailed down his other arm, his nails leaving shallow red furrows in the pale flesh. "When I was with him, he made me feel worthless. But I feel even more worthless without him." His hand made another pass down his arm, adding more red lines to the first batch. He didn't seem to be aware of what he was doing. "Does that make any sense?"

"Some." Obi-Wan rose from the bed and knelt by the chair, taking Bruck's wandering hand in his and holding it firmly. "We need our Masters--we love them, we depend on them, even if they're not--" Not fit to live, was his first thought, but he tamped it down. "Not right for us." He gave Bruck's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "When you get out of here, you'll find another Master, one who is right for you, one who'll see you through to Knighthood."

Bruck snorted. "If you think I'm ever getting out of here, you're as crazy as I am, Kenobi. And even if I did, who would want me? No one even comes to visit me except you and the healers." He looked down, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "Well. Bant, too."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Bant? Really?"

Bruck grinned, the first genuine smile Obi-Wan had seen from him since that day in the dining hall when his world had collapsed. "I was shocked, too. I thought she hated me as much as you did."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I never hated you, Bruck. Neither did Bant. Or anyone else, for that matter." The corner of his mouth quirked. "You irritated the hell out of us, but we didn't hate you." His smile faded. "Bruck, I'm--I want to apologize for never talking to you. Never asking you what was wrong. I should have--"

"Don't." Bruck's voice was harsh. "I nearly killed you. You have nothing to apologize to me for." He looked at Obi-Wan with weary, ancient eyes. "He hurt us both, Obi-Wan."

"He hurt all of us," Obi-Wan said quietly. He gave Bruck's hand a final squeeze, then got to his feet.

"I have a two-hour pass for tomorrow." Bruck bit his lip and looked away, his voice colored with desperate hope. "I can't leave the Temple, but if you wanted to maybe . . . I don't know . . . ."

Obi-Wan thought fast. "How about a picnic on the fourteenth-level quad? You, me, Bant, something portable and not too frightening from the dining hall?"

A shy smile lit up Bruck's face. "That would be . . . perfect."

The instant Obi-Wan stepped outside Bruck's room, he felt the flare in his mind that was Qui-Gon's eternal presence, and smiled.

//Coming home soon?//

//On my way,// he replied, his smile turning a bit silly as Qui-Gon's happiness flooded the bond.

"Obi-Wan!" Fetra hailed him from across the corridor. "Got a minute?"

"Only just." Obi-Wan fell in beside the purple-skinned healer. "Apparently, I'm expected home for latemeal."

Fetra tsked, shaking his head. "Masters can be so trying. How was your visit with Padawan Chun?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It went well enough, I suppose. Are you in charge of his case?"

"No, I'm just consulting on this one--Healer Ch'pat is heading up the team." Fetra turned a corner, then paused, studying Obi-Wan for a moment. "Are you still having troubles shielding from Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I wouldn't call it trouble, necessarily. More like an unwillingness to try."

Fetra echoed his sigh. "Obi-Wan, you know you have to do this. What if he was--"

"Captured on a mission, I know. I know." He ran a hand through his freshly shorn hair. "We spent so long apart, so much time cut off from each other and the Force. The idea of being shielded from him, separated from him--" He blew out a long breath. "It terrifies me."

Fetra crossed his arms over his chest. "What about your visits to Bruck? You can't communicate with Qui-Gon through the Force-shielding, can you?"

"Not directly, no. But I can still feel him there, and that makes all the difference."

One of Fetra's brow ridges quirked up. "Really? You can still sense him through the shielding?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "It feels like the training bond used to. Muted, but there."

"That's fascinating," Fetra murmured. "At our next session, I'd like to try some experiments, if you and Qui-Gon have no objections. There hasn't been a bond of this strength recorded in at least two hundred years."

"Fine," Obi-Wan sighed, resigned. "If there's nothing else . . . ?"

Fetra gave him a distracted smile. "I'm sorry--I'm keeping you. We'll discuss it in session. Have a good night."

Obi-Wan left the healers ward, shaking his head. He understood perfectly the necessity of shielding himself from his bondmate. It wasn't only a matter of security, it was a matter of sanity, of retaining his individuality while still sharing his soul with his Master.

He chided himself as he entered the lift and entered the code for the residential level. He had to set aside his irrational fears, if not for his own sake, then for Qui-Gon's.

As the lift doors opened, he was overcome with a wave of dizziness and nausea, strong enough to have him grabbing one of the doors for support. It was over almost as soon as it had begun, and he leaned against the side of the lift for a moment, breathing hard.

A Riquellian Padawan entered the open lift with a quizzical expression. "Up or down?"

"Neither." Obi-Wan flashed him an apologetic smile, then exited the lift, wondering what had caused his vertigo.

He dismissed it as unimportant, and continued on his way.

Obi-Wan lay sprawled over the big body he loved and craved, still floating on a wave of bliss from their lovemaking. "That thing you did with your tongue there near the end?" he murmured against the side of Qui-Gon's neck. "Make a note of that."

"Already filed." Qui-Gon ran his hands up Obi-Wan's back and slipped them through the sweaty spikes of hair. "I miss your hair."

Obi-Wan snickered. "You make it sound like I'm bald."

"You know what I mean." The large hands traveled down his back again, then returned. "When you're knighted, will you grow it out for me? At least as long as mine?"

"Of course." Obi-Wan smiled, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of Qui-Gon's throat. "I'd shave it down the middle and dye it fuchsia if that's what you wanted. You know that."

"I'm more partial to green, actually."

Obi-Wan snickered again, and they lay in contented silence for a few moments. "I ran into Fetra today. He wants to play with the bond some more."

Qui-Gon yawned. "What a shock."

"He was surprised to hear that I can still feel you when I'm visiting Bruck."

"You can?" Qui-Gon cocked his head to one side of the pillow and looked down. "Even through the Force-shielding?"

Obi-Wan tilted his own head back to look into Qui-Gon's eyes. "You didn't know that? Can't you feel me when I'm in there?"

"I shield from you when I know you're visiting Bruck--I assume you want some privacy then."

Obi-Wan frowned. "But, earlier today, you seemed to know the second I stepped out of the room."

Qui-Gon's brows rose. "Hmm. I suppose I did know, on some level. This is fascinating."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "That's what Fetra said."

"My only one." Qui-Gon lowered his head for a soft, languorous kiss. "I know you don't enjoy feeling like a lab experiment. But we need to understand all the ramifications of the bond before we can accept another mission."

"We need to get back into fighting shape, too." Obi-Wan patted his stomach. "I'm still flabby."

"Don't worry about that. I have it on good authority your Master plans on running you ragged in the training salle tomorrow."

Obi-Wan turned over, scooting his bare backside against Qui-Gon's flank. "I'd better get some sleep, then. I don't know what else you've heard, but my Master's really quite cruel when it comes to my training."

Qui-Gon doused the lights and turned over, spooning up against him. "Cruel? Demanding, perhaps. Driven. But cruel?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, smiling. "The stories I could tell you . . . ."

"Your left guard is still weak, Padawan." His Master's voice echoed through the private training room. "It leaves your entire flank exposed." Qui-Gon raised his 'sabre, the green glow reflected in the sheen of sweat on his torso. "Again."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan raised his own 'sabre, and they went through the set again, Qui-Gon pressing hard on his left.

"Better," Qui-Gon pronounced when they were done. "If you increase the resistance on that side during your strength training, that should help."

"Yes, Master. Are we finished?"

Qui-Gon chuckled, an evil sound. "Not even close. Free-form next. Half-power."

Obi-Wan smirked, adjusting the setting on his 'sabre. "Trying to live up to that cruel reputation, are we?"

"Would you care to run laps when we're done here?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

Obi-Wan looked up warily, trying to decide if he was serious. Better not to risk it. "No, Master."

"Clear your mind, and when you're ready, we'll begin."

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan opened himself up to the Force and let all his extraneous thoughts float away. When he was centered, he opened his eyes and saluted Qui-Gon with his 'sabre.

He dropped into a defensive crouch as Qui-Gon immediately leapt to the attack, whirling and slashing. He parried two successive blows, then tucked himself into a ball and rolled beyond Qui-Gon's reach, unfolding and righting himself with help from the Force.

//Good, Padawan. Watch your left.//

Losing himself in the joy of sparring, Obi-Wan was unaware of the passage of time, of how his right thigh seemed to want to cramp, of the sweat trickling into his eyes, of anything but the Force singing through him. He anticipated another strike, and moved to block it when dizziness assailed him again and all the strength left his limbs.

Qui-Gon's 'sabre found its mark, and Obi-Wan cried out as the glowing blade sank into his right shoulder.

"Obi-Wan!"

He collapsed to the floor, gasping, smelling his own seared flesh. He looked up into Qui-Gon's stunned face, the bond flooded with shock, guilt and fear. He wasn't sure if the emotions were coming from himself or Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon knelt beside him, and he felt a soothing tingle as the Force flowed into his shoulder. "Force, Obi-Wan, what happened?"

"I don't know," he panted. "Felt dizzy." He looked down at his shoulder. "Is it deep?"

"Deep enough. If we'd been using full power, I would have taken your arm off." Qui-Gon put a gentle hand on his forehead. "Are you still dizzy? Can you walk?"

The dizziness had passed, but lifting a finger suddenly seemed like tremendous effort. "I don't think so."

Qui-Gon slung Obi-Wan's uninjured arm around his neck and lifted him up.

Obi-Wan groaned, partly in pain, partly in resignation. "Do I have to go to the healers? Couldn't you just slap some bacta on it yourself?"

Qui-Gon moved to the door, using the Force to aid him with his burden. "If you're going to give me trouble, I can easily put you to sleep."

Feeling the love and concern flowing along the bond, Obi-Wan leaned his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder in surrender. "See? Cruel."

"Qui-Gon?" Fetra paused at the open door of the waiting room, frowning. "What are you doing here?" His frown deepened when he took in Qui-Gon's shirtless state. "Is everything all right?"

Qui-Gon jerked his chin toward the door of the exam room. "Obi-Wan took a hit during our sparring session. Devi's patching him up now." He saw Fetra's eyes widen, and hastened to reassure him. "It's not serious. He'll be fine." He tried to project confidence into his voice, unsure if he was attempting to assuage Fetra's fears or his own.

Fetra made a thoughtful noise and sat next to Qui-Gon. "While you were sparring, you said?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said in a distracted voice, wishing for his robe, wondering what was taking so damn long. "He failed to deflect a strike--said he felt dizzy."

"Were you shielding from him?"

"What?" Qui-Gon stared at the healer, appalled that he would even suggest such a thing. "Of course not."

"Are you certain? Not even subconsciously?"

"Healer Fetra," Qui-Gon said stiffly, drawing himself into as dignified a posture as he could manage under the circumstances, "Over the past twenty-five years, I have trained three apprentices--I know perfectly well the dangers of shielding during sparring, and to suggest that I would endanger my Padawan, not to mention my bondmate, even unconsciously--"

Fetra raised a hand, forestalling further outrage. "I'm not suggesting you don't know your job, Qui-Gon. The bond you share with Obi-Wan is unique in its strength and characteristics, and that is unknown territory. I'm simply trying to understand why two of the Order's best swordsmen, two who are soulbonded, no less, would suffer such a mishap." He narrowed his eyes. "When Obi-Wan said he felt dizzy--did you feel anything?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and centered himself, thinking back. "No. I felt the pain of the burn, but nothing else."

Fetra unclipped a datapad from his belt and began entering notes. "Fascinating."

Qui-Gon bit back a sharp comment, then rose to his feet as Devi entered the waiting room. "How is he?"

"Quite well, all things considered." Devi nodded at Fetra. "Fetra, would you find Ch'pat and let her know that Obi-Wan won't be making his scheduled trip with Padawan Chun?"

"Of course." Fetra stood, clipping the datapad back in place. "Qui-Gon, I'll catch up with you later."

Qui-Gon watched the soul healer depart, then turned back to Devi. "And?"

"The burn isn't deep--he'll be wearing a bacta pack for three days, but he should have full mobility back within the tenday. I'm more concerned about the dizzy spells he's been having."

"Spells? There have been more than one?"

Devi looked down at the datapad she carried. "He had one yesterday evening, just before latemeal. He said it was over so quickly, he forgot about it until this morning." She looked up at Qui-Gon. "I don't think it's anything terribly serious, but I'd like to keep him here overnight and run some tests. It might be something as simple as a cochlear virus, but I want to make certain."

Qui-Gon nodded. "May I see him?"

"Certainly. I'll be back in a few minutes to start the bloodwork."

He had to bite back laughter when he entered the exam room and saw the obstinate look on Obi-Wan's face. "If you're feeling well enough to be stubborn, it must not be too terrible."

Obi-Wan's injured arm was bound in a sling, and he gestured at the door with his left hand. "She wants to keep me here overnight!"

"I know." Qui-Gon moved to stand in front of his Padawan, who sat on the edge of the exam table. "I agreed with her." He smiled as he felt first outrage, then submission through the bond.

"Traitor," Obi-Wan muttered, resting his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder.

Qui-Gon kissed the spiky hair, carefully slipping his arms around his Padawan. "Why didn't you tell me about yesterday?"

"I didn't remember it, until Devi started asking probing questions." He lifted his head. "I'm sorry about this morning, Master. I should have signaled you that I wasn't able to block."

"I'm the one who needs to apologize, my Padawan. I should have seen that you weren't well." Qui-Gon shook his head. "I should have sensed it."

Obi-Wan curled his fingers around a lock of Qui-Gon's hair and tugged his head down until their foreheads touched. "We haven't spent a night apart since the bonding," he whispered. "What will I do without you?"

"You'll rest and let Devi do whatever she needs with as much grace as you can muster." Qui-Gon tilted his head and brushed a soft kiss over Obi-Wan's lips. "I'll bring you some datapads later, if you want to catch up on any studying."

Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh. "Yes, Master."

Bant looked askance at Obi-Wan's selection. "You sure you want to put that in your mouth?"

"I asked for help with the tray, not the menu."

Bant shook her head, placing the cup of regfallah soup on Obi-Wan's tray. "They're your tastebuds."

Obi-Wan reached behind his friend with his good arm and plucked a muja fruit from the pile. "Besides, if it's too noxious, Reeft is here."

"Good point." Bant set a plate of nixaan noodles on the tray. "So the healers couldn't find anything?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "No. Other than my shoulder, I'm as healthy as they come." He'd been scanned, poked, prodded and flexed by Master Devi and her assistants, but the healer had found nothing out of the ordinary. Before firstmeal that morning, Obi-Wan had assaulted her with his most pitiful, pleading gaze, and she had released him. He'd practically flown back to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon.

A lazy smile crossed his face. His Master had been showering when he'd arrived, and Obi-Wan wasted no time proving his general good health. With one arm still bound in a sling, he thought he'd been quite creative.

He turned his head, looking at the Masters' table. Knowing blue eyes met his, and his face grew warm with the memory of how they'd looked in the fresher.

//Focus, my dear one. I believe Padawan Eerin is speaking to you.//

"What?" Obi-Wan blinked and turned back to face Bant. "What?"

"I said," she said with exaggerated patience, "move your ass out of my way and go find us a place to sit."

"Sorry." Obi-Wan ducked out of the serving line and glanced at the Padawans' tables. He spotted Reeft, then Garen, who waved and beckoned him over.

Obi-Wan lifted his hand in response, then paused as he heard a faint roaring in his ears. //Qui-Gon?// he sent, suddenly afraid.

//Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan!//

As if watching himself from a great distance, Obi-Wan noted with mild curiosity that everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He took one step forward, grabbing blindly at the boy in front of him to steady himself. The startled Initiate's tray flipped up, spilling his food in a wide, graceful arc that soared upward even as Obi-Wan descended.

He heard the sharp rap of his elbow hitting the floor, knew it should hurt, wondered that it didn't, then the back of his head connected with the floor and a burst of white light obscured his vision. When he could see again, Bant's worried face loomed over him, mouthing something he couldn't quite make out. He watched in fascination as his hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord, and reached toward her.

Then Qui-Gon was there, and the world snapped back into normal time.

"Obi-Wan! Are you all right?"

Sith, his elbow hurt. His head, too. He felt weak as a newborn, unable to move a muscle. He looked up at his Master's face, felt his terrible worry through the bond, and got scared all over again. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said in a choked voice, cradling him close. "I don't know, but we'll find out, we'll fix it, you'll be all right."

"What do you mean, there's nothing?" Qui-Gon practically bellowed.

"Just what I said, Master Jinn, and I'll thank you to lower your voice." Devi's tone was icy, but her gaze was compassionate as she gestured for the irate Jedi Master to sit. "Physically, there's nothing wrong with Obi-Wan. We've performed every conceivable test, scanned him for all known diseases, checked and re-checked his brain functions."

"Then what is it?" Qui-Gon asked wearily as he sank into the chair in front of Devi's desk.

Devi pursed her lips, studying the datapad on her desk for a moment. "With your permission, I'd like to ask Master Poof to thoroughly examine Obi-Wan's psyche." She looked up at him. "And yours."

Qui-Gon regarded her with a steely gaze. "You've been talking to Fetra, haven't you? You think there's something wrong with the bond."

She sat back in the chair, spreading her hands wide. "I just don't know, Qui-Gon. We have to examine every possibility. If there is something amiss with the bond, then the sooner you and Obi-Wan learn how to correct it, the better off you'll both be."

"What if it can't be corrected?" Qui-Gon asked in a barely audible voice. "What then?"

"We'll worry about that as we need to." Devi winked at him. "You should learn to live in the moment, Master Jinn."

Warmth. Light. Love. Overwhelming, incredible love, awesome and terrible in its power.

But it was not his to take, had never been, would never be, and the wanting of it only fueled his hatred.

Master Poof lifted his slender fingers and sat back. "Open your eyes, Padawan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking. "Did I pass?"

Master Poof smiled gently. "This was not a test, Padawan--merely a search."

"What did you find?" Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan's weakness had passed, and he had been released from the ward. They were gathered now in Master Poof's office, Fetra sitting in as a silent observer.

"Nothing that would explain the odd faintness Padawan Kenobi has been experiencing." Master Poof's head swayed in Qui-Gon's direction. "The bond between you is strong and sure. You have been blessed greatly by the Force."

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and smiled. "We know."

"Nothing abnormal at all?" Fetra asked. "In either of them?"

"Nothing," Master Poof repeated. "No taint of Darkness, no weakness along the bond, no odd Force fluctuations. All appears as it should."

Fetra tapped his datapad thoughtfully. "I wonder if we could find anything while the dizzy spells were occurring."

"There is no precursor to these episodes?" Master Poof asked.

"No," Obi-Wan said. "Nothing. There one minute, gone the next."

"Master Poof, what do we do now?" Qui-Gon asked.

The Quermian steepled two of his hands together. "As we cannot predict when or if another episode will occur, I would suggest limiting Padawan Kenobi's physical activity for the moment. Nothing that would endanger him, should he be overcome with weakness again."

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's disapointment and anxiety, and squeezed his hand. //Don't fret, my only one. We'll get through this.//

Obi-Wan's response was bleak. //Yes, Master.//

Qui-Gon finished up the last of the latemeal dishes, trying to ignore the steady throbbing in his head. It came from shielding from his Padawan, who was obviously upset, and just as obviously didn't want to talk about it. Qui-Gon had given him privacy and space, even from the bond, but enough was enough.

He popped a cup of cha in the heating unit for a few seconds, then brought the steaming cup out to where Obi-Wan sat huddled in a tight ball of misery on the sofa. Obi-Wan reached for it without looking, mechanically mouthing his thanks.

With a soft sigh, Qui-Gon sat beside him and stroked the back of his neck. "Talk to me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shook his head.

Qui-Gon sat quietly, letting his fingers slip through the short, coppery spikes. After a moment, Obi-Wan turned to him, his eyes wide and worried.

"I'm never going to make it to knighthood, am I?" It wasn't a question.

"What makes you say that?" Qui-Gon asked calmly. He'd suspected something like this was troubling his Padawan.

"I've missed over a year of training, over a year of academics, hells, I was cut off from the Force for over a year, and now I can't even walk down a corridor without f-falling over!" Obi-Wan's breath hitched and he bit his lip, looking away. "I couldn't possibly pass my Trials at this point."

"You couldn't pass your Trials at this point even if none of that had happened." At Obi-Wan's shocked, hurt look, Qui-Gon smiled and gradually let his shields down, letting love and reassurance flow across the bond. He was not overly surprised to discover that Obi-Wan's overriding concern was not his Trials, his studies or even his health, but letting his Master down. "My sweet Padawan--you're only twenty-two. You have another three or four years of training ahead of you, at the very least."

Obi-Wan appeared to consider this for a moment. "But what about . . . whatever's wrong with me? What if it never goes away?"

"If it doesn't, we will deal with it. Several Knights have overcome greater obstacles--Tahl managed quite well."

Obi-Wan looked down at his cup of cha. "What if it gets worse?" he whispered.

"And what if it gets better, goes away and never returns?" Qui-Gon slipped his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "I've said this until I'm blue in the face, Padawan, but I don't think you've ever listened to me. You must live in the moment. Worrying about the future only robs the present of its worth."

Obi-Wan took a sip of his cha and let out a long, shuddering breath. "Keep saying it, Master." He looked up at Qui-Gon with a wry smile. "Perhaps it will sink in eventually."

"What's this?" Bruck looked back and forth between Healer Ch'pat and the two grinning Padawans with an uncertain smile.

"It's your picnic." Obi-Wan gestured at the various foods spread over a blanket on the grass of the fourteenth-level quad. "Since it got postponed the other day, we asked Master Ch'pat if she could spring you for a little while today."

"We weren't sure what your favorites were, so we just steered clear of anything too putrid," Bant said, winking.

Bruck looked at the Rodian healer, who patted his arm and pointed to a bench well out of earshot, but within sight. "I know you don't want an old Master hanging around while you gossip, so I'll be just over there if you need me."

"This . . . ." Bruck looked on the verge of tears. "Thank you, Healer Ch'pat."

She inclined her head in acknowledgement and walked away.

"Have a seat." Bant arranged herself on one corner of the blanket. "Do you want water or that nasty essian tea Kenobi likes?"

"Water, please." Bruck sat next to Bant, still looking a bit dazed.

Obi-Wan sat on the other side, grabbing a handful of jurberries. "It's not nasty--just an acquired taste."

"How's your arm?" Bruck asked, looking at Obi-Wan. "Ch'pat said you'd hurt it."

Obi-Wan flexed his right arm. "Still a little sore, but it's mostly healed."

"You need to work on your ducking skills," Bant said around a mouthful of cheese. "Speaking of which, did you hear about Vardekka?"

"Master Sameri's Padawan?" Bruck asked.

Bant nodded and launched into a tale of the unfortunate Wookiee's encounter with a low-hanging branch in the meditation gardens, which left all three of them breathless with laughter by the end. Obi-Wan gave his friend a warm, grateful smile--she had a way of instantly making people feel comfortable around her, no matter the circumstances. If she wasn't so talented in the Healing disciplines, he thought she'd make an excellent diplomat.

"I mean, can you believe the silly mook just stood there? What a moron."

Well, Obi-Wan thought dryly. Maybe not.

"Absolutely not." Qui-Gon stared at his friend in disbelief, then uttered a short laugh. "I can't believe you even considered asking me."

Mace sighed. "I didn't want to ask you, but the Council insisted, so I've done my duty and that's that." He rose from his desk and gestured to the door. "Noonmeal?"

Qui-Gon stood, tucking his hand in his sleeves. "I mean it, Mace. There's no way I can take a solo mission, not right now."

"I heard you the first time." Mace stood with his hand still swept toward the door. "Are we going or not?"

Qui-Gon strode through the door of Mace's office, not bothering to check if his friend was keeping up. "I understand that the Council feels it's shorthanded at the moment, but Obi-Wan's health is just too precarious. I can't leave him. I won't leave him."

"Perfectly understandable." Mace ran a hand over his bare scalp as they walked toward the lifts. "I wonder if they're serving those crispy noodle things today."

"Even if it is just three days. Anything could happen in that time. What if he had one of those weak spells in the shower and fell and cracked his head open?"

"That's very true." Mace stopped outside the lift and pressed the call button. "A nice green dyema salad would hit the spot."

Qui-Gon stabbed a finger in Mace's direction. "I don't care if the Suzerain did ask for me personally. My Padawan is my first priority, and you know that."

"Absolutely." The door slid open and Mace entered the lift. "Maybe I should just play it safe and go for the nerf steak again."

Qui-Gon followed him in. "I don't want you to think I'm babying him, because I'm not. If an actual emergency arose, he could stay with another Master for a few days."

"Mmmm. Nice and rare. Maybe a bit of Alderaanian lomos on the side."

"Or the healers ward. He could stay there. He'd hate that, though." The lift door opened and Qui-Gon walked out. "I might be able to arrange for him to stay with Padawan Eerin." He paused, turning to look at Mace. "The Suzerain really asked for me personally?"

Mace grinned. "Nerf steak. Definitely nerf steak."

Qui-Gon turned away with an exasperated noise. "I don't know why I even attempt to talk to y--"

The scream that tore through the bond nearly brought him to his knees.

//QUI-GON! HELP ME!!!//

He wanted to plunge into that warmth, submerge himself in it and simply bask in the radiance. He wanted to feel safe and protected and loved, wanted to stay forever in the luminous glow that left him breathless with joy.

But he was not a creature of the Light, and the demons that had always ruled him drove him to destroy what he could not possess.

Obi-Wan let out a long, satisfied belch, which prompted applause from Bant and Bruck.

"Nice duration," Bant deadpanned, "but your tonal quality needs work."

"I'll get right on it." Obi-Wan looked around at the remains of the meal. "I suppose we should start packing this up."

As Bant moved to gather the food containers, Bruck put a hand on her arm. "Wait . . . I just--I wanted to say thank you." He looked at Obi-Wan. "To both of you. For you to do this for me . . . ." He smiled and shrugged. "I feel almost normal."

Obi-Wan returned his smile. "Maybe next time we'll come up with a better--" He put a hand to his head, frowning. Something . . . not quite right flickered along the edges of his consciousness.

"Obi-Wan?" Bant set down a pak of leftover berries. "Everything all right?"

The now-familiar weakness flooded his limbs again. "It's happening again." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he slumped down on his knees.

Bant was at his side in an instant, gently lowering him to the grass.

"What's happening again?" Bruck asked, alarmed. "What is it?"

Bant ignored him, skimming her webbed hands over Obi-Wan's torso. "Obi-Wan, can you hear me?"

"Yes." He could hear, and speak, with no difficulty. He simply couldn't move. "It'll go away in a few minutes. It always does."

"What's going on?" Bruck sounded increasingly agitated. "Is he sick?"

Obi-Wan heard a faint rustling, and watched in disbelief as his left hand lifted, reaching for Bant's waist. "Bant?"

"He's not sick, exactly--just has these weak spells." She lifted her head and looked across the quad. "Master Ch'pat!"

Obi-Wan grew distinctly alarmed when his wandering hand found the hilt of Bant's lightsabre. "Bant?"

"Is the woman deaf?" Bant raised her voice to a bellow. "Master Ch'pat!"

Obi-Wan's alarm shifted to terror when the lightsabre slid free. "Bant!"

She looked down at him, her huge silver eyes narrowing in confusion. "Obi? What--"

Before he could form another thought, Obi-Wan's traitorous hand had pressed the lightsabre against her abdomen and thumbed the activation stud. "No!" he screamed, his mind going numb with shock as Bant grunted and stiffened, the glowing green end of her 'sabre appearing over her left shoulder, then disappearing just as quickly.

"What are you doing?" Bruck screamed, leaping to his feet. He caught Bant as she fell sideways, the remains of their picnic scattering beneath them.

"I'm not doing it!" Nearly blind with panic, Obi-Wan felt the Force flow around him and he was suddenly on his feet, Bant's lightsabre activated and gripped in both hands. He heard shouts and running feet, and his body whirled, slashing with the lightsabre. "No!" he screamed again as Healer Ch'pat's head fell from her body and rolled to a stop on the grass behind him.

//QUI-GON! HELP ME!!!//

He could feel his Master's presence through the bond, but very faintly, as if Qui-Gon were transmitting from deep space. He shut down the gibbering, panicked part of his forebrain and concentrated all his energies on controlling his limbs. It wasn't working.

A Knight he didn't recognize and two Padawans he did raced toward him over the lawn of the quad, 'sabres ignited and at the ready. "Stay away!" he shouted. "I'm not controlling this!"

"What are you talking about, Kenobi?" one of the Padawans, Ganic, yelled. "Drop the 'sabre!"

"I can't! Something's using me!" He couldn't see Bant or Bruck, couldn't turn his head to look, but he heard Bant's labored breathing. "Bruck--get her out of here, both of you get away from me!"

He turned his attention back to the Knight, a male Twi'lek, who was edging closer, his 'sabre still raised. "Stop, please! Something's controlling my body--I don't want anyone else to get hurt!" Even as the words left his mouth, he leaped over the blanket and engaged the startled Knight at close range.

The Twi'lek was good, but whatever controlled Obi-Wan was better. The Knight went down after a vicious slash to his leg, at the same time Obi-Wan's right hand flew stiffly out, Force-shoving Ganic and the other Padawan away.

Obi-Wan was crying, helpless tears flowing down his face as Bant's 'sabre plunged down into the Twi'lek's heart. "No," he sobbed, his body turning to deal with the two Padawans. "Please, stop this, please."

Ganic lay stunned on the ground. The other Padawan, an agemate of Obi-Wan's named Lishetra, had lost her lightsabre in the fray and was scrambling to retrieve it.

Obi-Wan's arms raised Bant's 'sabre over his head and brought it slamming down toward Ganic's supine body.

The green blade crashed into the purple glow of Mace Windu's lightsabre.

Obi-Wan felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the voice he loved above all others.

"Sleep, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon looked at the tears drying on Obi-Wan's slack face, felt his heart break just a little, then ruthlessly squashed his emotions, letting his training take over. "Mace, get her to the healers ward. Bruck, you stay here with me. Lishetra? Is Ganic all right?"

Lishetra looked up from where she was helping the groggy Sullustan to his feet. "Yes, Master Jinn--he's just a bit dazed at the moment."

As Mace carried the injured Bant away at a dead run, Qui-Gon looked around at the carnage on the quad, and the crowd beginning to gather. "Bruck?"

Bruck stood staring at Healer Ch'pat's headless body, dragging his nails down one arm. He didn't appear to have heard Qui-Gon.

"Bruck."

Bruck started and blinked, whipping his head up. "Yes, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon shrugged out of his cloak. "Would you take this and cover up Knight Burana's body, please?"

"Yes, Master Jinn."

"Lishetra." Qui-Gon waved the girl over and began speaking in a subdued tone. "Please gather Master Ch'pat's remains and cover her with your cloak. After that, I need you and Ganic to help control the crowd."

She paled, but seemed relieved to have something to do. "Yes, Master Jinn."

Bruck finished his task and drifted back to where Qui-Gon knelt beside Obi-Wan. "Is there anything else I can do?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Qui-Gon unclipped his comlink from his belt and punched in a code before handing the device to Bruck. "I suspect he knows it already, but inform Master Yoda that we have a situation requiring Security. After that . . . ." He looked down at Obi-Wan's peaceful, sleeping face and forced his voice to remain steady. "After that, you can tell me exactly what happened here."

He was enveloped in softness and warmth. It was dark, but not frighteningly so, and he suspected that if he opened his eyes, the darkness would disappear.

He didn't want to open his eyes.

Instead, he chose to assess his surroundings with his other senses, which felt sludgy, disconnected, but still functional. A steady, pulsing rhythm sounded near his left ear, and if he concentrated, he could feel the vibration of it beneath his head. He flared his nostrils, taking in all the scents he could find, cataloging them one by one, starting with the faintest and working his way up.

Bacta. Faint or no, it was strong enough to mean he was in the healers ward. Another good reason not to open his eyes.

Tea and soup. Not the essian tea and regfallah soup he preferred, but the stronger scent of the el'riah blend and culamar soup his Master loved.

That made identifying the strongest scent rather a useless exercise.

He inhaled deeply, letting the clean, earthy smell of his bondmate flow into him, and pondered why he would be in the healers ward, in Qui-Gon's arms, long enough for his Master to have had at least one meal. He didn't feel injured, just . . . adrift.

Was Qui-Gon injured? He thought not. The heartbeat beneath him was strong and regular, the breathing deep and even. Besides, it couldn't be terribly beneficial to a patient's health to have a Padawan sprawled uselessly atop them.

Then why were they here?

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open and he gasped. "Bant!"

Startled blue eyes looked down into his, then the mask of calm and serenity with which he had a love/hate relationship slipped into place. "She'll be fine, Padawan."

He tried to access the bond, to determine if he was being humored or not, and couldn't. Panic flared, making it difficult to breathe. "I can't feel you!"

"I know," Qui-Gon said in a soothing tone. "You're on a mild sedative which restricts your movement and damps the bond for now. It's only until we determine who or what attacked you."

Obi-Wan let out a tiny, despairing moan, and Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him. "Don't fight it, my Obi-Wan. I'll be right here with you. We'll get through this."

He felt sleep stealing over him again, and let his eyelids droop shut. He was warm and comfortable and loved and secure, and all he could see, played out over and over in his mind, was Healer Ch'pat's head rolling to a stop on the soft green grass of the quad.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily as Obi-Wan dropped off again. He picked up the datapad he'd been reading, staring at it for a full five minutes before realizing he wasn't even looking at the words.

He'd been around and around with the healers, Mace, Yoda, even Yarael Poof. No one could find anything amiss with his Padawan, physically or mentally. But, as Mace pointed out, they had a dead Master, a dead Knight and four traumatized Padawans on their hands. Until such time as they could determine what in all the Sith hells was happening, Obi-Wan would remain sedated.

The alternative, Master Devi had pointed out to a roaring Qui-Gon, was to keep him tied down and fitted with a Force inhibitor. No one blamed Obi-Wan for what had happened--it was obvious that his actions had not been his own. Bruck had recounted his version of the events, and when Bant regained consciousness, her account lined up with his. But for the sake of Temple security, Obi-Wan had to be restrained in some way.

Qui-Gon had acquiesced, but no power in the universe could keep him from his bondmate's side. The Jedi would be short another Master until the mystery was solved.

He looked up from the datapad as the door to the shielded room slid open, frowning when he saw no one. Then he heard a familiar thumping crossing the threshold, and allowed himself a small smile. "Good evening, my Master."

"Visitor you have," Yoda announced, making his way to the bedside chair. "Stay with the young one, I will."

Qui-Gon's brows rose. "Who is it?"

Yoda lifted himself into the chair with a grunt and spent a moment or two arranging himself. "An old friend."

Shielded as the room was, Qui-Gon couldn't release his irritation to the Force. "Who?"

Yoda gestured at the door with his gimer stick. "Go. Keep watch over Obi-Wan, I will."

With a long-suffering sigh, Qui-Gon extricated himself out from under his Padawan, and went to greet his mystery guest.

He made his way through the shielded wing, emerging into the visitor's section. He spotted Mace, chatting with a woman he didn't recognize, and looked around, wondering where his visitor was.

"Master?"

He turned back, his eyes widening as the woman rose to her feet, smiling. Searching her aura, he discovered the unmistakable Force-signature of his first Padawan. "Sheresa!"

Laughing, she threw herself into his arms. "It's so good to see you again, Master!"

Qui-Gon hugged her tightly, stunned. Only two cycles after her Knighting, Sheresa Casil had accepted a permanent post on the Outer Rim, a dismal desert planet called Tatooine. They had corresponded briefly for a time, but hadn't seen each other in over twenty years. "How did--what are you doing here?"

She stepped back, looking up at him, and he noted with some sadness the toll Tatooine's harsh climate had taken on her. She had been young when Knighted--only twenty-one--which would put her at just over forty Standard years, if his memory served. She appeared at least ten years older than that, her once-pale skin bronzed and weathered by the twin suns of her adopted homeworld.

But her lively brown eyes still sparkled with the joy he remembered, and she still shone just as brightly in the Force.

"I needed to see you, Qui-Gon," she said, taking his arm. "Is there a place we can go to talk?"

He automatically glanced over his shoulder, looking back at the shielded wing. "I would prefer not to go too far from here. There's been--my Padawan--"

"I know. Master Windu's explained some of what's going on." She squeezed his arm gently. "I think that's what I need to talk to you about."

"I'll give you two some privacy." Mace bowed and left.

"How have you been?" Qui-Gon asked as they sat on one of the comfortable waiting couches.

"Very well, surprisingly enough." She grinned at him, taking his hand in hers. "I know you didn't want me to waste my talents on the Outer Rim, but I've been very happy with my work."

One of Qui-Gon's brows quirked. "Keeping Hutts and drunken moisture farmers in line?"

She threw back her head and laughed. Qui-Gon was pleased to see that aspect of her personality remained unchanged as well. "That takes up a large percentage of my time, but not all. There are water rights disputes to be settled, slavers to fight." Her smile dimmed. "Slaves to protect."

"And what pried you away from this paradise to come visit your poor old ex-Master?"

"I've been having . . . visions."

Qui-Gon frowned. Sheresa was nearly as strong in the Living Force as he was--it was what had made them such a good fit after her first Master had been killed in a speeder accident when she was a sixteen-year-old Padawan. To the best of his knowledge, she'd never connected strongly enough with the Unifying Force to have experienced a foreseeing. "Visions of the future?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so, though."

Qui-Gon settled back against the arm of the couch, keeping hold of her hand. "Tell me about them."

"At first I thought they were just dreams--I was back in the Temple, going about ordinary, everyday tasks, and I thought perhaps I was a bit homesick, and my subconscious was trying to tell me something." She tucked her sun-gilded brown hair behind her ears. "But then I started having them during the day. And some of them were of places I'd never been before, people I'd never known or even seen." She smiled, squeezing his hand. "And you were in almost every one of them."

"Me?" Qui-Gon bit his lip, puzzled. "When did you start having these visions? Had you ever dreamed of me before?"

"About two cycles ago. And no, not really. Well--" She laughed softly. "When I first settled on Tatooine, I missed you terribly. I dreamed of you then, at first, but that's been, what--twenty years now?"

Something hovered on the edge of Qui-Gon's awareness. He blanked his mind for a moment, but nothing came to him. He had the feeling something vitally important had just eluded his grasp.

"Qui-Gon?"

He blinked, shaking his head. "I'm sorry--how often do you have these visions?"

"Every day. Sometimes only one or two, but usually many more than that. That's when I decided the Force was trying to tell me something, and that I'd better come back here and check up on you." She winked at him, then looked down at their clasped hands. "Some of the visions have been very disturbing, Qui-Gon."

"How so?"

She blew out a long breath. "The . . . 'wrong' ones have been hazy--more vague than the others, but still strong enough to alarm me. Terrible things, Master--like torture. Rape." She shuddered. "Horrible abuse, like nothing I've ever seen before." A wry smile curved her lips. "And for the Rim, that's saying something."

"And I was in these visions?"

"No, actually, not in the worst ones." A teasing look lit her eyes. "You were in the really mundane ones, like eating in the dining hall, or arguing with the Quartermaster."

Qui-Gon snorted. "I'll have you know arguing with the Quartermaster is an adventure in and of itself."

"No doubt," she said, laughing. Sobering quickly, she squeezed his hand again. "So tell me--are you in danger, my Master? Master Windu said your current Padawan has been having some difficulties, but he didn't go into any great detail."

"'Difficulties'? Well, I suppose that's one way to put it." Qui-Gon stared at the floor for a moment, wishing he could shake the feeling that the answer was right in front of him.

"Is he a problem student?"

"Obi-Wan? No, he . . . ." Qui-Gon's voice softened. "He is the light of my soul." He looked up at Sheresa, smiling. "Would you like to meet him?"

(to be continued)