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But the pass had been light for all that. At Obi-Wan's unspoken question, Qui-Gon nodded. "We will still take our rest, padawan," he said cupping the overly calm face. The eyes were not so fever bright but the rise in spirit he had detected earlier had fallen low again. He could not chide Obi-Wan for his dismay at having to face his enemy again so soon. Our enemy, most loved.

He got a nod for that but no more. Instinct guided him again, tilting the face back up to his own, covering the slight frown with his lips.

There was the reaction that might have happened earlier and Qui-Gon did not concern himself overly with the desperation that prompted his padawan to open his mouth and invite admittance.

As with Obi-Wan, it had been many years since Qui-Gon had taken a lover of any kind, admitting people but cautiously to his body, even more cautiously to his heart. But there was a quickening of his blood there that had never quite faded from memory, a desire to hold and be held.

Restraint was not one of Obi-Wan's stronger qualities, and even weak and worried as he was, his openness, the honest response of his mouth and his body was treasured as dearly as his padawan's faults. His skin was still warm but damp, sweat allowed free to cool him once more. He tasted of that, of salt and the tangy grasses used in their water. Different scents mingling with those Qui-Gon already had catalogued for his padawan. Taller than his apprentice, Qui-Gon had to bend slightly, shifting his weight to the stronger of his legs and holding the thick silk of Obi-Wan's hair to balance them both while he sought a different balance.

The short gulping breaths his padawan took when their mouths parted indicated his padawan was feeling far less balance than something else. Eagerness in a lover was a flattering thing. Not so flattering was that Obi-Wan was dizzy and not from passion alone. Fear tainted the distorted emotions in his mind and that undertouch of anger, turning ever inward, was burning brightly again, anticipating being robbed of his desires again.

Reassurances alone could not ease those dark emotions. Calm, padawan, Qui-Gon counseled and once more refused to let Obi-Wan wrench away.

"I'm not a child."

"No, Obi-Wan, you are not and have not been for some time. But exhausting ourselves again is not wise."

It took a long moment for Obi-Wan to understand his meaning and Qui-Gon made no effort to hide what he meant or intended or what he desired as well -- the same open welcome he had felt from his padawan's kiss he desired from his body.

One of the tangled feelings surfaced like a bubble bursting on water. A fear, a memory of Maul's body invading Obi-Wan's, his tormentor emptying the tainted seed of darkness into his prisoner repeatedly. Cruelly. Soiling Obi-Wan like filth could pollute clean water.

For that you think I would deny you -- myself? You think very little of me, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sent, his own feelings hurt but he understood as well. I can separate what was done and why from who you are, padawan. Will you not grant yourself the same grace? Had he damaged you beyond all further hopes of intercourse, I would still find a way to make love to you, if only in our minds.

Then do so...please, Qui-Gon. Not quite a challenge or a demand for proof. Or even a plea.

An acknowledgment that perhaps this was all they might ever have.

You have so little faith, most loved. He could not hide his sorrow and did not try.

No, master. Not that I have so little, but that you have so much. It was not an apology.

There was a strength there Obi-Wan could not see. To press forward when he had so little belief that things would work out spoke once more of the will that Qui-Gon had admired since he first met the child-man of thirteen who would so occupy the last dozen years of his life.

"Then share mine," Qui-Gon whispered it against his lips before holding him close and feeling the body he held melt into his own. Rest they would, in half-dreams. He guided his padawan back to their makeshift pallet and lay beside him, feeling the muscles of the other man's body relax beneath the thin grey cloth. Shall I tell you of soft beds and cooler rooms, padawan? he began, spinning the dream from his own memories of what Obi-Wan liked most; what he knew of his padawan who slept bare when he could with only soft blanket covering his skin. Who could dress almost faster than Qui-Gon could think. Obi-Wan smiled, the feeling spreading between them as if his student had moved closer when in truth there was a space between them, the humid air already providing more than enough heat

As you prefer the heat of worlds like this, Obi-Wan reminded him.

True, he returned and pressed his thoughts more gently, to memories of waking his padawan from his slumbers, not with thoughts but coming to him and calling his name, if only to see the slim body stir and waken, admiration for the glide of his padawan's muscles beneath smooth skin. I am a voyeur, you see, most loved.

It must be contagious. The teasing note was welcome, Qui-Gon letting his own amusement be known. He had known his padawan watched him, dressing or undressing, when they practiced...only vaguely acknowledging the why of it and making the choice not to pursue such thoughts. He thought them well matched, as did other Masters -- pair fighting was a difficult thing to master but he and Obi-Wan did it well, merging moves and intentions with grace and fluidity. Not needing to touch and only the barest concentration to keep their minds linked, their purpose clear and shared.

It is not fighting I wish to think on, master.

Such a hedonist and I did not know. Qui-Gon returned once more to the image of his padawan laying on his bed at the Temple. Shall I touch you there, padawan? he prompted, almost able to feel the slide of his hands along the broad back, the slight indentations of Obi-Wan's spine, even when at his full weight. The curve of muscle, taut and well-honed from years of physical training, giving way to the fuller curve where the flesh was softer but no less firm, across his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. Another hand smoothing the long tail of his braid across his shoulder.

And then Qui-Gon shifted his perceptions and those he shared to the here and now, to a body not quite so unmarked, where old scars from training and missions were overlaid with new bruises and soon to be additional scars; where the ribs were not so covered by a sheath of flesh. He felt Obi-Wan try to pull away, recoiling but he held firm. As you are, most loved. Not as you were, alone. What I desired and admired then, I still do.

They had been silent but now his padawan gasped almost as if in pain, but it was not. Qui-Gon's ghost-hands slid over the marked skin along his back, along the same spine and curves of his lower back, more pronounced now. Qui-Gon's lips did not press against his padawan's but they did, feeling the same yielding, the same hunger, in this half-dream as he had in truth. There was no part of Obi-Wan he did not touch in that way, no part of him unexplored as he hoped to explore in the physical and encouraged the same mind-touch in kind, baring himself, his body's flaws and strengths, to his padawan.

Nor was there hesitation as his thought-self breached the thin body as tenderly as he cradled his padawan on their pallet. The emotions were real enough, but he kept their bodies anchored, sending urges to relax. I will fill your body as fully as you fill my senses, given time, most loved, he promised and still felt the shuddering reaction between them, releasing it for something that less echoed the physical than represented what the physical was meant to express. Not Obi-Wan's body but his mind, his sense of self, as tangled and welcome into Qui-Gon's own sense of self as he had ever been. Far more open than Qui-Gon had ever been to his padawan, where few things were kept secret. He coiled them together, submersing himself into his padawan's psyche and allowing his padawan the same freedom. When you doubt again, padawan, remember this.

His answer was the soft and very real press of lips on his own, the lingering taste of salt and the feeling of acceptance before his padawan slipped reluctantly but unresistantly into a doze.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and saw his padawan's face, relaxed and peaceful. Pressing his lips to Obi-Wan's forehead, Qui-Gon set his shields and followed him.

It was nearing dusk when Obi-Wan awoke, the scent of more of the boiled tubers and the more welcome scent of his Master close by.

"Do you feel up to a walk to the pool?" Qui-Gon asked him. "Perhaps to take our clothes."

Pushing himself upward, Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon's smile. Why did it not feel strange to him that his master had seemed to have smiled more here than Obi-Wan could recall in recent history?

"That would be a blessing, Master," he said answering the smile with one of his own.

They took the canisters and their scant extra clothing, tarrying at the pool until darkness fell before making their way back. They ate and then packed up what they would carry, planning to leave before first light.

Qui-Gon had meant what he said about rest but he was quiet, if attentive in subtle ways.

"We could leave now. I am rested," Obi-Wan offered, feeling a low-keyed tension in his master's presence. The long fingered hand rested on his arm where it was clasped around Obi-Wan's knees. The light squeeze was thanks enough for his offer.

"We would end up tripping over ourselves and adding more bruises. Unless the need is great, better we start with anticipation and energy. You are not holding me back, padawan."

Obi-Wan nodded, turning his gaze once more to the low flicker of blue flames. More rested, his emotions and thoughts not so intricately tangled together, he was able to sort them with more efficiency, almost meditating, picking apart the concerns lost when they had been captured. With silent efficacy his master tracked his thoughts, arms coming to encompass his shoulders and pull Obi-Wan against him. "Amidala will look after the boy, and the Jedi Council will not shirk their responsibilities because I am not there. They agreed."

"Under duress," Obi-Wan murmured, not able to entirely shed his own doubts about the boy. "You meant to train him."

"And so I may still, will, but he will need a few years at the academy before he needs a master. And you will have gained your Knighthood."

"You are so sure of that." It lacked the doubt and anger of earlier but the fear was still present. "And then what?"

"Casting so far in the future?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, resting his cheek against his master's arm. "So much to overcome and I don't know where to start."

"Here and now, padawan, for none of the rest will matter if we fail here."

"I should meditate on patience."

"It is a useful skill to have," Qui-Gon agreed, only half-teasing. "At times. If you continue to make me out to be so perfect, padawan, I will lose all confidence in your discernment."

"Not perfect, master," Obi-Wan said with a smile of his own. "Only nearly so."

A rumble of laughter broadened his smile. It made him regret leaving this place but it eased the sharp edges of the path that had brought them here. "You said you thought I faced my trials here."

Qui-Gon nodded, a casual caress along his back. "To face our own darkness is part of the trials of Knighthood, Obi-Wan. All of us have it. There are none so pure that lack it."

"And I said, 'yes' and meant it."

"Leaving a longer and more difficult road back for yourself. I know, padawan." Qui-Gon murmured. "And knowing you, the one who set that path before you will not easily so release you. But, I have faith in you, Obi-Wan."

As I have little?

"Do not confuse faith and confidence, padawan." Qui-Gon spoke gently, the reproof no more than a caution, words shaded carefully.

It would be difficult, something Obi-Wan already knew, having denied the quick rise in his anger and fear over the past days. He had set them aside to be examined when he felt he had more strength, but his master's caution warned him. As he had not been prepared for the choice offered him, he could put no reliance on his ability to choose wisely in the future.

That isn't what I meant, padawan, and you know it. Now he was being scolded and it was so familiar it was almost a relief. You are a sore trial to me, Obi-Wan. Rough affection colored the accusation.

"I always have been."

"But a worthy one. Is your self-confidence so battered I must reassure you constantly?"

It was meant as a tease again but it fell heavily between them, triggering that inward turn that Obi-Wan felt helpless to thwart.

Do not shy away from this, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon followed him, offering no guidance but that, waiting.

His body was healing, his skills as a warrior would return with practice. He had not lost his ability to manipulate the Force, nor to use it to broaden his understanding of the world around him. Those skills he had spent decades in building, in mastering, had not abandoned him. His confidence in discerning Light from Dark, in mastering impulses that gave much importance to the immediacy of reaction to events rather than in how those events could be turned to the best advantage, that confidence was impaired. His judgment hampered by doubts and fear.

Fear of the knowledge that the same power he had painstakingly learned to use, was there, so much more easily grasped, requiring less control, less restraint. Less thought.

You have always know that, padawan.

But never felt, experienced....

You have, padawan, Qui-Gon said, folding his companion more closely in his arms. Anger, grief, fear...all those...easy to give into, easy to use when reason seems difficult to grasp. We train so that the resistance to those things is stronger, automatic. Qui-Gon had survived the loss of one student to such a temptation. I will not lose you as well.

The burden of that was difficult to shoulder.

It is not yours -- you have enough, Obi-Wan. My own fears must be conquered as yours will be.

You never seem to be afraid, Obi-Wan began and then realized it was not true.

I am frequently angry and control it with effort. So Master Yoda never fails to remind me, Qui-Gon sent, not offended. And I fear that lack of control more often than is comfortable.

"If we wanted comfort, we would not have chosen to become Jedi," Obi-Wan complained mildly.

"You would be uncomfortable standing by and letting events unfold without participating, padawan." Qui-Gon said and reluctantly unwrapped his arms from around his student. "We should both meditate for a bit, Obi-Wan, and you are distracting."

Qui-Gon shook his head and smiled when his padawan chuckled softly but a moment later the Master was still and quiet, thoughts not closed should Obi-Wan need him but turning his attention elsewhere.

As Obi-Wan should and did, arranging his limbs comfortably and seeking his own calm center. Breathing was a basic and he had mastered that at a young age but it was disconcerting to allow his thoughts the freedom to sort themselves out as was required to clear space enough to examine them. He had not done so fully since before his capture and he felt trepidation at attempting it now. Qui-Gon's proximity and the knowledge that his master was not likely to let him slip too far into the turmoil of his own emotions reassured him and he allowed the thoughts their due.

Perhaps surprisingly it was not the Dark path that now lay parallel to his previous one that came first to mind, but the revelation of his Master's feelings. He was not fool enough to think that such a love could buffer him against all future failure or hurts but it was a haven he could return to; to heal, to rest and recoup. Qui-Gon was not a man who would clear all obstacles for him. Stand beside him, support him, but not take the tasks unto himself. And while some part of Obi-Wan wished that were true, that this master's experience and skill could smooth his way, it was but another small desire to stave off his own fear that he would not have sufficient strength or skill or stamina to win through on his own. Love could not heal all wounds or overcome all burdens -- it could only make them easier to bear and could take on many forms. This was but one of them, as Qui-Gon had so aptly shown him earlier. For them to become more deeply enmeshed or dependent on each other would only weaken both of them.

Exposing Qui-Gon's weakness was not something he wanted to risk again, nor his own. Which meant his weaknesses must be overcome, turned to strengths. It was not an easy thing to do, even in theory.

He could but dance along the edge of the desire that had opened him to the bargain the Dark Lord had made. A desire of the flesh, of the heart. But how to protect himself there without turning his heart into a fortress? Without so armoring his soul that nothing could get in, Dark or Light?

It was not armor that was required, for his soul would wither and die, darken from lack of Light if he tried that route. But to allow the Dark to flow through him as he had been taught to allow the Light to work through him was equally disastrous.

Around him then, as the atmosphere had flowed around their pod, passing him by, allowing him to slip through without resistance.

It felt like the Force he was so familiar with, but not, chill and bleak where the Light warmed and allowed growth, this threatened to suffocate and drown him, but more fluidly, as oil to water. Slick and insidious.

And like the Force he knew, it had life...sought life, to fill it though, replace it rather than produce it, to overcome rather than be part of. It crept in where it was not invited, where it was not wanted and he struggled to continue to guide it around him, struggling to call his resources to bear, his training.

He had not been trained for this and the calm he so desperately needed cracked and shattered. Panic gripped him thought he fought that, too, as well as the need to submit, to not allow his fear and his weakness to give it more entrance than he had. And still he drowned in it, unable to push through it.

How could he have thought it would be so easy? Faith, not confidence, and he lacked both.

And as before, Qui-Gon was there, suddenly, forcefully, his own calm shaken by his padawan's foolishness, by the risk he took, the danger he put them both in.

He would drag Qui-Gon under with him.

The anger came then and he almost expected it. It had been laying in wait, had it not? What he had hoped for, what he had shared with his master, the same gate opening again. He had what he wanted and all that was left to him was to put distance between himself and his master. He could salvage that much good from this, surely.

Will you surrender so easily? Qui-Gon's presence was steel bright, almost harsh. Cast off so easily what you have spent your life earning for yourself? There is no reward at the end of this you have ever sought, Obi-Wan.

Truth lay in those words, presented as an accusation, delivered like a blow.

You cannot fight an enemy alone. Use what you know.

He knew nothing, understood less, and where knowledge failed there was only instinct. But it was instinct tempered by training. Nearly twenty years of training. Twenty years of learning to use the Force as an ally.

But the Dark was part of the Force, the backside of it, as all living things must decay and shed what was dying and no longer useful, so the Force shed off the negative, those things that bound and strangled it. It was as natural as anything else in the universe.

And in between lay the balance of what he wanted to become, what he was and what could be.

Use what you know. Tinted by a plea, Qui-Gon straining to reach through the battlefield made of his padawan's mind and will.

He felt as if he were twisting in a trap, pain piercing him as the wires threaded through his skin had cut him, struggling to tear himself free, but each move only tangled him deeper.

[[Peace over fear]]

Ingrained as his skin color or eye color. He ceased fighting, wrenching his fear back within, letting the anger flow and yet binding it close. He fought himself and there was no way to win without losing himself. He had been taught to master himself, his emotions. Peace over anger, and even in anger there was a center, a source. Honor over hate, as he would honor his teachers and his training. Strength over fear, but not the strength of his body but his mind.

... yes...

He felt as though he had been battered by a strong wind, by a storm, exhaustion as much a part of his strategy as logic, as training. The Dark side did not seek him, but it waited for him to tread unwarily, disguising itself as something familiar. As familiar as himself.

Padawan... there was weariness there too, unanswered questions, and concern still. A sound, a low hum that underlay his struggle, it dimmed but did not fall silent.

It remained, close to him...all so familiar, and he opened his eyes.

Qui-Gon stood with his saber-hilt in his hand, held at ready. The hum Obi-Wan heard was from his own saber, still flaring brightly, their camp showing the signs of a battle he thought only in his mind.

As much there as here, Obi-Wan. The regret in that touch was as heavy as the hilt in his hand.

He silenced the hum, extinguished the light, met Qui-Gon's eyes though he could not see them. Unconsciousness would be a blessing. But it was not in his grasp. Qui-Gon was. If his master flinched, he would be lost, he would turn and run or so his mind told him.

His master did not flinch but raised his hand and Obi-Wan thought he should have expected it. As it was he did not resist as the touch of his Master's presence, Qui-Gon's carefully controlled use of the Force gave him the oblivion he prayed for.

Before he could even ask for forgiveness.

The collapsing body of his padawan was easily and carefully caught and cradled, eased down to lay across Qui-Gon's lap, his own breathing harsh and heavy in his chest. He blamed himself for this. Headstrong his padawan had always been and Force willing always would be, to dare what others would not, even as a boy.

And took Qui-Gon's words too much to heart at times. Opening the awareness between them had been risk he thought he had guarded against, but here, in his arms, was proof that his original plan, to wait and reveal his feelings to Obi-Wan until after his trials, had been the right one. He was still the Master and Obi-Wan still the apprentice. For all his skill, that relationship had not changed, they had merely layered the other on top of it.

It was his responsibility to make sure that one did not interfere with the other and he had failed at that basic task. It required an effort his padawan might sympathize with that he wrenched himself back from the same path of guilt his student trod.

Beneath his hands, beneath his probes, Obi-Wan was still, quiet, thoughts as random and drifting as in dreams. Not the best solution Qui-Gon could have come up with but the most expedient. Time enough to calm his own fears, to dispel the panic that had flared when his padawan had risen, fighting a foe Qui-Gon could sense but not see.

Fighting himself.

Only long years of establishing their bond had allowed him to reach Obi-Wan at all. And that bond would either be the lifeline his padawan so desperately needed or the cord that would strangle both of them.

He was irrationally glad the council was not here to judge his mishandling of this entire misadventure. They would be rightfully disappointed in him and question why, if nothing else, he had not destroyed Maul when he had the chance, regardless of the cost to himself and his padawan.

Somehow admitting he had fallen hopelessly in love with his student, and had been so for some time, did not seem to be the appropriate answer.

That their lives might yet serve the Force as they had been trained to do, also seemed a weak argument given their present difficulty. The danger this unbalance in his padawan caused was very real and not to Obi-Wan alone. As with others who had trained with the Jedi and then turned, the damage done could be felt through the Force for decades to follow, the uncertainty within the ranks of the Jedi taking much time to heal and repair. But heal it would, could.

That he was being such an optimist would be further proof to the council that he had lost his mind.

The only argument he had that might make them listen was the one he had yet to think through thoroughly, but perhaps it was time he did so.

The Dark Lord, the Sith, existed only two at one time. A master and his apprentice. Palpatine and Maul. Why, then, try and turn a Jedi to the Dark if another apprentice were not possible or likely? He did not think, despite Obi-Wan's importance to himself, that the Dark Lord had singled out his padawan for this attempt. It had been opportunity more than plan, and yet, he had spared a great deal of effort to twist Obi-Wan's mind.

To reach Qui-Gon? He may be slightly more prominent but even among the Jedi, his contrary opinions and his defiant style earned him more censure than accolades. He supposed he had a reputation of sorts, even outside the Jedi, for as a negotiator he was highly prized and successful, if unconventional.

Belief in destiny and the gift of future sight were not strengths he possessed. Others did though and he could only wonder what might be seen that he could not, had not.

Setting both saber hilts carefully aside, he moved into a more comfortable position, Obi-Wan still held in his arms but closer, and centering himself, sent his awareness out to seek for any indication that the battle here had alerted anyone elsewhere.

Nothing returned to him but it told him little. Maul would not wish to reveal himself too fully if he still sought them. Unless he had been called back to his Master's side or had some other mission to fulfill besides the delivery of his two Jedi prisoners to his master or to their deaths, he would be here still. But he was not close, or not close enough for Qui-Gon to detect.

Perhaps it was arrogance that made him certain he would know.

His fingertips ghosted over Obi-Wan's forehead, soothing the shock that had sent his apprentice into unconsciousness, coaxing awareness back into his padwan's mind. The fire had been smothered during the dance they had done with sabers in hand but he needed no light to see the reflected light in his Obi-Wan's eyes. And in that one glance his decision on how to proceed further was made.

"Where you walk I will walk. Where you fight I will fight." It was an oath such as a padawan might make with his master. "And neither of us will fail, Obi-Wan. Or we both will."

"Don't do this...not for me." It was barely a whisper.

"Not for you alone or for myself." He hesitated, not sure Obi-Wan would understand. "Or even for the love I bear you, padawan."

The 'why' went unspoken, the denial predominant in Obi-Wan's mind and almost reaching his lips. Qui-Gon stopped it with his usual efficiency, robbing his padawan of air with his own mouth. And though it was he who held Obi-Wan, the comfort offered flowed from padawan to master.

By dawn, they were furlongs from the hastily made camp. Sleep had been granted to neither of them and no more words than were necessary exchanged. Their push forward was not hard, and slowed further as the heat of the day rose. Where the path allowed they traveled side by side and when not, they traded leading and following. By midday, even with rest, Qui-Gon's leg ached and reminded him that bones healed no more quickly than spirits.

The bond between them lay open but Obi-Wan was subdued, not constantly assaulted by doubts, but they lay below the surface. When he needed to rest he said so, relying not at all on false pride or stubbornness, as if his primary goal was not to become more of a burden on his Master than he already felt himself to be.

By mid-afternoon, they were descending a gentle grade into a shallow valley, the glint of water was visible, in greater quantities than they had thus seen, forest giving way gradually to lower scrub. They could see no obvious signs of inhabitants and Qui-Gon could sense nothing. Obi-Wan did not try, his use of the Force only enough to keep his mind open to his master. For fear of losing his way again, Qui-Gon suspected.

Resting himself on an outcropping of rock, he could feel Obi-Wan directly behind him, eyes shielded from the brightening glare of the sun. "Do you think we can make that distance by nightfall?" Qui-Gon asked

"As you wish, master," Obi -Wan replied colorlessly.

"It is your opinion I seek, not just your agreement." Qui-Gon twisted around and caught his padwan's hand, pulling Obi-Wan beside him on the rock. "And will you close this distance between us before nightfall?"

"I take it being self-effacing is not your desire," Obi-Wan replied after a moment.

"Is that what you are being?"

"As opposed to self-pitying." There was no humor in the smile. When Qui-Gon did not answer, Obi-Wan moistened his lips and looked outward again. "I would rather have a...goal. Something to focus on -- and not just the next camp."

"Casting forward again," Qui-Gon commented.

"If I dwell in the present or in the...most recent past, I fear I will go mad, master. I am not sure I am not mad already. I could have killed you."

"So little confidence in my skills." Qui-Gon mused but lifted the dark braid to settle it in front of Obi-Wan's shoulder where both he and Obi-Wan could see it. "Each lesson learned and mastered, padawan. Dwell on those and you will find your goal again. Or it will find you. We seek egress off this planet, back to Coruscant to report and if it should so occur, we will stop Maul. Not necessarily in that order."

Obi-Wan made a nearly rude noise. "He defeated me once. Both of us--"

"No. Remember what happened more clearly, padawan. You beat him, it was...your concern for me that defeated you."

"A failing, master?" Obi-Wan said bitterly.

"A fact, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon chose to ignore the anger there and his padawan glared at him. "Do not count failures for every instance that things did not work out as you expected, else half the negotiations we have brokered would be counted failures even though agreements were signed."

Obi-Wan considered this and shook his head tiredly. "Perhaps you could beat this into my skull."

"I think you are beating yourself enough with so little result that any I could offer would be a waste of my time, my energy and your..." He had been about to say 'beauty.' Instead he caught his padawan's chin and kissed him lightly. "And your time as well, padawan. You are as stubborn as I am. Luckily we do not always grow stubborn over the same issues, else the council would need to use levers on us to get us do our duties."

"Sometimes they do," Obi-Wan mused softly.

"So they do," Qui-Gon agreed, glad their silence had been broken if nothing else. He could take quiet from Obi-Wan, who frequently was, introspective thoughts as characteristic as his quick reflexes. But this silence was not the quiet of an active mind, examining a problem or issue or new approach. "Let us press on then. If that water is fed from the same springs as above, if nothing more, we will be able to cool our skins at the end of this day's journey."

"Unless there are fish in it as large as those on Naboo," Obi-Wan reminded him wryly but rose, resettling his small pack on shoulders that Qui-Gon knew ached as his own did.

"I like fish," he announced rising as well and giving his leg time to begrudginly agree to carry his weight again. "For dinner," he added and moved, pacing his longer stride to both his padawan's shorter legs and the protest of his own.

They had slowed considerably by the time they reached the lake, which was really not a lake but more a low lying marsh and temporary if Qui-Gon read the signs correctly. More indication that they were at the end of what passed for the rainy season in this region of the planet. Water fowl and other flying things lifted and settled as they approached. The ground was springy and the high grasses making progress slow. But more of the skeleton of the planet rose even in this low and flooded meadow and Qui-Gon made for the bare expanse of stone that edged into the water. Closer in, the ground grew even softer.

"No way to defend if the need arise," Obi-Wan said, stopping at his side and grimacing at the mud which clung to his feet and calves. At one end of the shimmering expanse of water the ground rose again, the path of the collected run-off cutting deeply into the landscape. A simple probe revealed the ground unstable, dirt and rock liable to tumble into the steady pass of water with little provocation. At the other end the basin gave way to low scrub and rock again until the land rose. As warmer weather set in this pool would dry up leaving nothing but drying grasses.

"We will have to make our way around or over," Qui-Gon said and redirected their footing toward the low scrub.

"At least it looks to be drier," Obi-Wan agreed, fatigue sending his voice lower than usual.

Drier but not more comfortable. The low scrub at least gave them some cover and another stretch of rock extending into the water gave them pass without threatening to send them knee deep into the mud that edged the water. Enough dry stuff, here too, to provide a small fire and watching the beasts at the water's edge, Qui-Gon found more, if different, tubers to add to their food. They made their camp first and then sought the water, Qui-Gon removing the improvised brace on his leg with a sigh of relief and following Obi-Wan to the end of the rock.

The water was not so deep, to his padwan's waist and no more. The grasses beneath giving them some support against the mud. Obi-Wan's concern of large fish seemed unfounded in such a temporary oasis but still Qui-Gon let his student bathe first and watched the waters carefully for any threat.

Not that watching his padawan was any great effort. Despite teasing and taunts from his days at the academy, his padawan was a graceful man, his adolescent awkwardness more a product of a body rapidly changing than any lack of comfort with it. The light of the day was dimming but the colors turned pale skin to gold and the heat of the day had left the water warm, so there was no need to so quickly wash to avoid the cold.

But Obi-Wan did not extend his bath, knowing Qui-Gon was waiting and accepted his master's hand to climb out again, and offered a hand in return to allow Qui-Gon to enter the water before drying himself with his tunic and keeping watch, both their sabers close beside him.

The urge to stretch his limbs and swim was strong, an apt exercise for shedding the tensions of the day. More aware than ever was he that his padawan's eyes followed him at least as often as they surveyed the landscape for a threat. He could but wonder again at what world they had fallen to. He might very much like to return here with his padawan when threat did not lurk so closely at their heels. It was both hospitable and habitable but the lack of populace disturbed him. This was surely no hidden world not with the transponder signal he had found, but a rim world, possibly.

He gave up the thought for the moment and swam back, once more accepting his padawan's assistance to climb out.

"No large animals," Obi-Wan commented, his tunic laying across his lap. Not so surprising that his apprentice had followed his thoughts. "A watering hole such as this should attract larger beasts."

"Perhaps it will as the water elsewhere dries up," Qui-Gon said but his padawan was correct. They had seen nothing but small creatures and winged one and few enough of those.

"A few should be here now. There are no tracks," Obi-Wan persisted.

It was true. The soft muddy ground would show the passage of beasts.

"You have a thought, padawan," Qui-Gon murmured, more alert than he had been if that were possible.

"A feeling, no more, master," Obi-Wan replied. "There is something not...right...with this world. And it is more than my own troubles that make me feel so," he added slightly defensively.

Qui-Gon considered it, casting his mind out cautiously, broadly, seeking a delicate balance between obtaining information and not revealing their location. Your assistance, if you please, Obi-Wan, he said and felt Obi-Wan's reluctance to once again reach for the currents of Force surrounding them. A shield only, padawan, he instructed, echoing the command with the familiar meshing of their talents. Obi-Wan would not be casting about alone this time.

It took more time than usual but the task was achieved and Qui-Gon looked more deeply at how the Force played itself out on this planet.

There was much life, abundant growth and a hospitable clime. He could not scan the entire planet in a brief foray but he could seek indications of higher forms of life, spikes of energy that would indicate groupings of multiple life forms as in a city or a settlement.

He found no such thing, but he did find gaps, sluggish flows of Force in and around areas that seemed, as Obi-Wan had put it, somehow, not right. One was quite near, perhaps another day's walk in the direction they traveled, where the transponder signal had indicated. With more tangible focus in mind, he gave warning to his padawan and sought even deeper, opening himself up to those empty places.

His padawan's cry of alarm was both audible and mental, a fleeting glimpse of Obi-Wan lunging for him to keep his body from tumbling into the water. His own cry echoed what he found in that empty place.

The screams of many, many living beings dying and not knowing why. Their cries muffled by a power Qui-Gon could not fathom. So much at once and not heard even along the unending reaches of the Force. Until he had unleashed their grief and loss and anger into the Force for all to hear.

The combined power of that loss ripped through him, mind and body, shredding him from within, ripping away his sense of self and his cry mingled with theirs like the blast of a nova and leaving behind only the sparkling remnants of what had once been.

Even underweight Qui-Gon was not a small man, Obi-Wan almost losing his grip when his master went limp and started tumbling down the edge of the rock. With no clothing and his skin still slick from his swim, they both almost went in until automatic reactions took over, Obi-Wan reaching for the Force around him to aid his strength, to lift and steady his master.

The echoes of the screams released into the Force almost caused him to fall again. Long years of practice allowed him to shunt and separate what he needed from the rest but he was still panting and sweating when their precarious position on the rock became less perilous.

Qui-Gon's breathing was shallow and unsteady, the shock to his mind leaving his body in a state of confusion. Stabilizing those functions was Obi-Wan's primary concern, unable to even begin to understand or try to investigate what had happened or how the loss of so much life had been suppressed.

The water creatures had fled at his scream and showed no immediate signs of returning. The silence surrounding him was almost frightening, portentous.

Qui-Gon's breathing eased, became deeper, the rapid beating of his heart slowing beneath the frantic press of Obi-Wan's hand. The greying-pallor of the usually tanned skin lessened and Obi-Wan finally remembered to breath for himself as well. He sought for any impressions, any thoughts at all, but was met with more of the heavy silence, only the fragments of their bond remained, that and the living, breathing physical presence of his master.

It took more Force than he felt comfortable using to move Qui-Gon away from the water and back to their rough pallet, limp limbs arranged as comfortably as he could manage before he settled himself with Qui-Gon's head in his lap and once more tried to reach his master wherever he had gone or been tossed to.

His efforts were hampered by the fear rising once more, alone, here in this place, without even the comfort of his master.

This is not a trial I can face, master... he sent it, a lonely, isolated thought, unashamed of the plea in it. His fear brought the Dark dancing back, more distractions but, as he had told Qui-Gon, when his focus was far clearer, his goal was absolute.

The force of the emotions released by Qui-Gon's probe had wreaked havoc along the currents of Force, ripping through the very fabric of its reality and leaving gaping wounds that he had no doubt could be felt all the way back to Coruscant.

Perhaps one good thing could come out of this. Or two, he thought a little despairingly.

But not with grief, not has he had felt before. Knowing only that his regard for his master was returned had healed that portion of him. Not that it could not come again, for if Qui-Gon were truly lost to him he was not sure what he would do.

He was far surer of what he would not do -- if it was at all possible and it was likely that resolve would be tested sooner rather than later, for if that anguished cry could be felt on Coruscant, by all the Jedi -- there was no doubt that one closer would have heard it as well.

For once in his life, patience came more easily, the desire to leap up and fight not pressing him to rash action. But before he could allow Maul to find them -- he had to be sure, as Qui-Gon had made sure Palpatine's true nature was revealed, that this atrocity did not go unmarked.

It would leave them defenseless.

You would be uncomfortable standing by and letting events unfold without participating, padawan.

Perhaps his master was more prescient than they believed.

A breath and a moment of doubt were all he allowed himself, that and the touch of his fingers along the silvered hair. His confidence in success was not so great, that he might lose himself as well was a very real possibility. But waiting longer was not an option and relying upon Qui-Gon to return in time to do this in his stead was cowardly and weak.

Qui-Gon's faith in his abilities would have to be enough for both of them.

The only anchor he had was in this man, in this tiny pocket of Force he had managed to gather around them.

As a bird will fling itself from a cliff to launch its flight, so Obi-Wan flung himself from this place, casting himself outward, not following the scattered remnants of his master's path but along the rents and tears of that cry, hearing it echo again through him, ripping and clawing at his fragile sense of self as it had his master. Tell those who can understand this, avenge it as need be, who can soothe your fear. You are not forgotten. Your lives did not disappear into the void. Your lives mattered.

He soothed pure emotion but it was like laying his hands upon a troubled sea and expecting its fury to fade. He was tossed and battered once more by denial and anger, buried beneath one wave of it and the next.

He would not survive the end of the journey if he continued to be buffeted by the random explosions of emotion. As in a training exercise he had learned to push and roll and reach for a handhold on the other end of the training salon, but here he felt stretched thin, a taut cord ready to snap.

He broke through on the crest of a wave, made a brief contact, lost it and sought it again.

It might have been one voice or many...strength flowed back, seeking, and behind him the wave crested again. Beware...this... was all he could manage before the force of it snapped him back, channeled through him, given a target, the random and wide cast emotions finding someone else to listen.

It was a surety the Jedi knew now. Alarm added to the strain upon his psyche, a mirror to his and Qui-Gon's shock.

How to find himself...outside himself...

My master is as lost as I am... Admitting it here was less painful than where he could still see Qui-Gon and touch him.

There is the Force. A basic tenet of Jedi teachings. Nothing is lost where the Force dwells and the Force is everywhere.

Qui-Gon had been telling him that all along. And if he could not seek himself, then he could find what or who was as familiar, if not more important.

It was no easier to win his way back, but for every slip away it was as if something latched onto him and pulled him forward again, like a rope cast out amid a strong current.

He emerged, the contact behind him lost, white hot pain burning through his mind and body. His vision blurred, tinted as with blood in his eyes, the edges black, the bitter taste of it at the back of his throat. But as it cleared the black and red did not fade. He felt the lifeline that had saved him go slack and feared for Qui-Gon. Seeking his master's presence with touch, he opened his eyes to reassure himself that his master still breathed, that the strain had not been too much.

A sharp yank on that lifeline sent fresh waves of agony through him once more and he tried to pull free of its tangle only to feel, not a mental assault against his mind, but a heavy hand tangle in his hair and jerk it painfully, the touch familiar.

It was not Qui-Gon who had pulled him back, but Maul.

The screaming had stopped. It faded rather than being cut off entirely; the echoes and the memory of it remaining long after the original cry had fallen to nothingness again. It wasn't until some time later that his own screams stopped.

If he had been screaming. His head felt like it, the rawness in his lungs and throat. He also felt cold, unusual for the planet was warm, humid...the waters had been blessedly cool, though not chill.

Which brought back the memories of the screaming. But only in the pain remembered not immediately felt. His padawan would be worried. He had been gone far too long and Obi-Wan was still recovering.

He reached for his student to reassure him and found...nothing.

For a moment he thought he had reached back into the void those massive deaths had caused but it was on not so grand a scale.

Awareness snapped around him like a vise, the pain that followed actually an aid to his concentration as well as a distraction. Blindness came and passed as he found himself on hands and knees, the retching shaking his entire frame but all that rose was bile. Beneath him the floor gave way under clawed fingers, gouges scraped deep into the dirt until the spasms passed and he leaned forward, forehead pressed to the damp soil.

Obi-Wan? he tried harder, teeth gritted. Padawan?

The bond was still there but it was as if a blast door had closed over it, cutting him off. Exactly as it had been before only this time he could not feel his padawan nor, did he think, could his padawan feel him.

To keep trying would only exhaust him further. With slow deliberation he sat back on his knees and calves, feeling the shimmer of air across his skin. Light filled his prison, and he looked up, knowing the presence before his eyes adjusted to the additional brightness after so much darkness.

"And once again, Jedi." Maul said, feral grin exposing sharp yellow teeth. He was flanked by two guards carrying blasters but they were for show rather than real precaution. Weak as he was, Qui-Gon would die in attempting to take the Sith now. The Sith Apprentice inclined his head in a mocking bow. "My thanks for your guidance in making our escape. My master may well reward you for your assistance."

"I want nothing of him," Qui-Gon ground out, meeting the yellowed eyes, forcing his voice to remain even, his expression calm.

"Nothing, Jedi?" Maul asked. "Not even a swift death?" he came closer, squatting in front of Qui-Gon. "Not even the life of your apprentice -- or perhaps his swift death?"

His throat was almost too tight to let the words out and they would emerge strangled. Nothing, he sent instead, but he could bear that pain rather than let this creature see weakness.

Clawed fingers came out to grip his chin, tugging at his beard, Maul smiling still. Then he struck, those same claws opening the side of Qui-Gon's face from cheek to jaw.

"So it shall be, Jedi, but your 'nothing' will come neither swiftly or easily." He moved back. "Bring him. If you kill him before I give leave I will rip your hearts from your bodies."

Maul did not look back and Qui-Gon did not resist as one of the guards came to take his arm and haul him to his feet while the other covered him, aiming low. He would take out Qui-Gon's knees from that angle.

They gave him nothing to wear but here was no one to see. Here was the settlement he and Obi-Wan had sought but it was deserted, devoid of life save for insects that still descended upon the remains of the people that had lived here, their skeletons already bleached, laying where they had fallen, everywhere he looked. Their deaths had come too swiftly for them to resist but long enough for them to know they were dying, all of them.

Amazing that Maul had been so close and they had nearly missed each other. Almost...almost...

Maul moved steadily through the streets, striding toward the erect tower where the transponder was housed. It was there he had made his camp, with the crew from the prison ship, few though they were -- Qui-Gon could count only five beside Maul. They had not caused the deaths here and even unable to focus for a moment at a time, Qui-Gon could feel their fear that what had laid life low on this planet would also take them.

What was left of the prison ship had been gutted, the communications array rigged into the planet's system. There, laid negligently on a work bench, were his and Obi-Wan's scant possessions, their clothes and lightsabers.

He could have his saber in hand in a heartbeat, he could avoid the blaster fire for that long. He could finish what had begun on Naboo.

He could die fighting at least.

It was tempting, so tempting. The casualness with which Maul presented his back indicated he expected, perhaps wanted, just that.

Maul stopped. "You will, Jedi. I want your defeat, not your surrender. But I will take what is offered. As my master will." He reached over and pulled the light tunic from the bundles and flung it at Qui-Gon. "Dress." And then Maul gathered up the lightsabers, holding them easily in one hand.

It was no kindness but Qui-Gon wrapped the tunic around him and belted it with the sash of cloth. When he was done, Maul started forward again and Qui-Gon and his escort followed. They left the settlement, heading toward the open fields beyond, fields that had once been tilled for crops but were now burned and barren. The other three Qui-Gon had sensed were there waiting, grouped around a still figure on the ground, blasters held warily.

Pale skin and bronzed hair. Wrists and ankles encased in shackles from the ship.

It was a landing field. Obi-Wan was readied for transport. Apparently Qui-Gon would not be making the journey with him.

Tentatively he probed and got nothing in return. But the bond was there. He could still feel it. The Dark Lord, not Maul had blocked it before.

What has he done, padawan?

Maul prodded the still form with his boot. "He did not even fight. You breed your Jedi weakly." He tossed Obi-Wan's saber to the side, the men circling them. His own double-sided saber sprang to life and he tossed Qui-Gon's to him. "Had I more time, I would wait until you are at strength."

He gave no more warning than that and Qui-Gon was immediately on the defensive. He had no choice, Maul was fresher, faster and he planned to enjoy this. Within the first few moments Qui-Gon felt the flesh sizzle on his leg.

He would not leave Obi-Wan to the Sith. It might be breaking any number of his vows but his padawan's fate was not to be tied to the dark side for all time. He did not think his padawan would choose so. Pulling on years of skill, he maneuvered himself closer to the still figure, and he fought, better than Maul had thought he would. When there is nothing left to be lost it was easier to give it all to the Force.

But he wanted an answer from Obi-Wan, any indication that he knew or would choose so. It was a weakness and could possibly be a fatal one. Maul was confident with good reason but Qui-Gon was not one to surrender easily. And it wasn't pride that made him reach deeper into himself, to pull the Force more closely around him and immerse himself in it.

This was but a game to Maul -- oh, there was a certain logic to it. Having lost his prey once, he sought to make up the failing. Had Qui-Gon's death been all he sought, it would be over by now.

The burnt stubble under his feet made footing treacherous, painful if he'd been even mildly distracted by it, but he was not. This was a so very like arena fighting -- no laser shields or precipice existed here to overcome or use to confuse his opponent, the acrobatics that had so marked their last encounter were not necessary.

Maul had been taught well -- but that was no surprise. It had taken both he and Obi-Wan to manage what hint of a stalemate they had achieved before and it was Obi-Wan's grief and passion that had turned the tide then.

Another side step brought him closer to his padawan's, saber flashing almost faster than the eye could follow, the hiss and spit of the power beams connecting the only sound Qui-Gon could hear save his own harsh breathing. He could not spare the glance he need, reaching out instead, positioning himself -- would it be considered murder or mercy?

As if sensing that much of Qui-Gon's wavering toward the dark side, Maul pressed him back, fiercely, putting distance between the Jedi Master and his student.

Something ripped itself free of Qui-Gon's mind and neither Maul nor the fight nor even the Force had prepared him for it. It was as if some part of himself had been stripped away and for a terrifying moment he thought Maul's Master had arrived, ending their conflict.

The presence of his padawan was like a blow, Maul a fraction of a second too late to notice him, to see the pale figure roll and move, the summoned light saber cutting through the ankle shackles, giving Obi-Wan freedom to move.

Qui-Gon recognized nothing in the familiar face, saw no flicker of acknowledgement cast his way, no seeking presence.

Maul parried and feinted and then gave way, barely remembering Qui-Gon and screamed a command to his men.

Qui-Gon rolled blocking the blaster fire as best he could, seeing his padawan do the same and felt the Force heave as his student drove a wedge that sent two of them flying backwards and then Obi-Wan was pressing his attack on Maul once more.

It may well have been an imitation of his padawan -- oh, the concentration was there, the grace, his apprentice's style recognizable. But also his own, more so than Obi-Wan had ever displayed before.

Two more of the guards went down and the last man turned to run, Qui-Gon dropping him where he stood before attending to the battle once more.

The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air, both his padawan's and Maul's. Obi-Wan's blows fell like hammers, forcing the Sith back further, but when he deliberately missed what could have been a killing blow, Qui-Gon went cold. His padawan was still blocking him but the murderous intent on his face Qui-Gon had seen before, just a few days previously, his student lashing out at him as he fought an enemy entirely in his mind.

Obi-Wan was toying with Maul, his blows meant to hurt, injure, inflict pain...to draw out the conflict.

It was possible his own student might turn against him but he could not allow it to continue nor would he. A tuck and roll brought him close to the pair, Maul twisting to face the new threat and Qui-Gon knew the blow that would follow the one Obi-Wan had just delivered. It was a move unique to his own style -- or had been once. A shove and block and Maul twisted again, the blow meant to shear along his arm cutting through his torso instead.

Maul's face showed surprise and no more before the separated halves of his body dropped to the ground independently.

Obi-Wan's mouth opened in protest but no sound came out, he only stared for a moment at the body then at Qui-Gon, not even a flicker in the green-grey eyes as Qui-Gon shut down his saber.

His padawan's hands were still bound and Qui-Gon took a careful step forward, reaching out to cut the power to his student's light saber, and then lay his hands on the shackles, feeling the locking mechanism give way under his touch. He pushed the metal away, closing his hand over the still clasped hands and eased the saber from his padawan's grasp.

Obi-Wan?

There was a flicker of response along their bond. His padawan seemed to be in shock. The burn on his student's arm and another across his hip were blistered and blackened and must cause him pain but there was nothing to indicate it.

Obi-Wan, Maul was waiting for a ship... He tried to put some urgency in his thoughts, that they were not yet safe or free. We need to leave.

His padawan seemed frozen, eyes riveted to Qui-Gon's face and he had the horrible feeling that if he tried shaking his padawan, the younger man might very well shatter into pieces.

Every man had a limit and Jedi were no different. Master Yoda could argue all he wanted that with the Force all things are possible but at this moment, Qui-Gon did admit defeat -- by his own weariness, his own limitations, trapped as he was in flesh and with emotions and his own perceptions warring with him. Maul was dead -- to ask any more of either of them was unfair. It was a most un-Jedi-like thought to have.

And yet, he did not want to see Obi-Wan die, nor was he ready to die himself -- as accepting of that possibility as he had been when facing Maul.

His hand came up to cup the pale face, feeling the sweat on his palms mingle with that on Obi-Wan's skin. Even with that light touch he could feel the rigid tension in the body, sheer will alone keeping the other man erect and conscious -- if he truly were. He pulled slightly and Obi-Wan stumbled slightly, the shackles still around his ankles hampering his movement. He released a long gasp of air and then he was neither conscious nor erect and his thoughts lay as bare under examination as his body.

Not what had Maul done, what had Obi-Wan done. It was not a product of Jedi training, to so subsume his own consciousness, his sense of self, into his master. But it was what he had done, to hide, to wait to find strength enough...his motives were many and varied, and to do it so completely that Qui-Gon had not been able to sense him.

There were ships approaching. Qui-Gon could hear them, feel them. He could carry his padawan but not far enough to hide he did not think. Nonetheless he tried, gathering the limp form up and heading back toward the deserted settlement, seeking another dark cellar. Concentrating on seeming to be there not at all. Masking them as he heard the fall of feet, unable to determine who or how many, tightly shielded all.

But either he was too weary or they were too good. His saber was up and on before the door opened, only the faces that greeted him looked more relieved than frightened. "Master Windu!" One of them called and Qui-Gon almost collapsed himself.

The ebon face of the Council Member looked equally as relieved. "We couldn't be sure..." he began and waved in a med team. "We thought you alive but ...there was ship entering the atmosphere. It fled on seeing our fleet -- small though it is."

"Our...fleet?" Qui-Gon said numbly.

"Of the Alliance...the senate has split. We could not make enough believe what we know of Palapatine. The Trade Federation, many of the out systems are siding with him. Supreme Chancellor Valorum has taken back his position with a new alliance. Only our neutral status has allowed the Jedi to continue to function but we are vacating Coruscant.." Mace Windu's hand came out to steady Qui-Gon. "You will hear the rest when you have had time to recover but let us see to you and your apprentice."

Obi-Wan...

"We have been searching for you since you were taken off Naboo," Mace said gently, not stopping Qui-Gon from reaching for the edge of the stretcher the med-corpsmen had slipped under Obi-Wan's body. "But we could track you only as far as the first hyperspace jump, then again when you contacted us about Palpatine but we lost you again until young Kenobi came to us with your.... message," Windu murmured and the echo, of the dying, though faint could still be felt.

"Came to you?"

"You were unaware?"

"I was...unconscious," Qui-Gone responded as they emerged. Three large transports, two of them unloading equipment and personnel. Flanking them and patrolling overhead were Naboonese Fighters and other worlds.

"Where are we?" Qui-Gon asked.

Windu looked at him for a long moment as if only then realizing that the Jedi Master and his padawan had been lost in more ways than one. "Yavin. An out-system. It had applied for admission to the Republic at last session and then withdrawn the request. Now we know why."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, following the stretcher into the ship. If he were aware of the odd stares and looks, he gave no indication. When he stumbled, Master Windu was there, waving off other offers of assistance and keeping himself tightly shielded, for which Qui-Gon was extremely grateful.

Obi-Wan was already being treated by Healer Nessil, who gave the Jedi Master an encouraging smile. Obi-Wan was not in danger of dying then and Qui-Gon tested their bond, almost wincing at the weakness of it -- Obi-Wan's weakness. But he let himself be guided to a bed, to be treated. To take fluids and a restorative spray and have the wounds on his face closed, and then found Master Windu crouched in front of him. "I will be remaining here, to establish a base. Once we have unloaded supplies, this ship will take you back to Naboo...we are setting up a temporary haven there until a more permanent location can be arranged, Alderraan most likely." He laid a dark hand on Qui-Gon's forearm. "You have served the Republic very well, Master Jinn, as well as the Jedi. I hope to see you soon."

Qui-Gon managed a faint smile, eyes straying to the bio-bed and the medical droids attending his padawan. "Your rescue was most timely, Master Windu. I do not think we could have ...escaped again."

"I would not be to sure. I could sense neither of you save through thermal traces. Rest, Qui-Gon." The master's voice was kind and the compulsion not entirely resisted but even as Windu took his leave, Qui-Gon was rising, crossing the room to ask a report of the Healer.

Nessil spoke calmly, her hand resting lightly on Obi-Wan's forehead, continuing to monitor him as she spoke in the soft liquid accents of her home world. "I am not a mind-healer, Master Jinn. He is in shock. His life-signs are suppressed but not dangerously so. And no more than I would expect for what he and you have been through," she said as a bioid moved to cover the burns on Obi-Wan's body with dermaplast. "When we reach Naboo I will have Master Kir-ek tend to him but I will continue to monitor. In the meantime, may I suggest a bath and fresh clothes for you?" she offered, letting him know his presence was not required but would be allowed. Another bioid moved to provide the same service for Qui-Gon's burns and he allowed it then let them complete the healing on his leg -- all the while he was alert to his Padawan's presence, or lack of it. Done with the healers, he let himself be led to the quarters Mace Windu had vacated and found fresh clothes. A sonic shower later he felt some better but he was beginning to fear he was as shocky as his apprentice.

He returned, ignoring Nessil's raised eyebrows and sat beside the bed, taking one of Obi-Wan's hands into his own. "You should rest," the healer warned him again and he nodded.

The warning came and he felt the deep thrum of the transports engines thrum to life, the ship barely shuddering as it lifted off Yavin's soil. He did not release his padawan's hand even when Nessil finally relented and had food brought to him there. He ate a little but it did not lessen the inexplicable fear that somehow, they had left his padawan behind and now transported only his body.

He could hear the voices, speaking of him, to him. It was easier not to listen, to refuse to understand. He could remain in the shadows and they would not notice him.

His master was very worried. And sorrowed. And angry which was not an emotion he often associated with Qui-Gon Jinn. Frustration, yes. But not anger.

It was easier to ignore the words than the emotion that accompanied them.

He was not so badly hurt. Not any longer. The healers could keep his body functioning indefinitely. Which would be of no use to anyone, least of all himself.

His master was calling him but he refused to answer.

Maul was dead. He had taken great satisfaction in that. Pleasure even.

If he answered, his master would know.

He already knew.

So his remaining here was no more than cowardice, fear...shame.

Easier.

For himself.

Never so selfish you were.

He winced at that. Speculation among the apprentices was that Yoda could remove the need for inter-system communications arrays if he so chose.

His Master would be hurt if he knew his padawan would acknowledge Yoda but not him.

Foolish thought. Glad he is your mind is not dust.

Obi-Wan wasn't so sure of that. It felt like dust, the effort required to form whole thoughts exhausting.

Stolen you have. From your master. Yoda was less than impressed with him which surprised him not at all.

But it bothered him. He didn't need to ask what he had stolen. He could feel it with each throb of his heart. Time. His master's faith in him. Even part of his mind.

Consent he gives...for the last. There was a pause and Yoda felt/sounded weary as well. If you command...go he will.

Command his master? It was a ridiculous thought.

Yet, it was the truth. And if Qui-Gon left he could release all of this. Surrender all of it...

Leave me alone.... He tired to put as much force behind it as he could, surety, conviction. Don't...

The last he had not intended at all but the rest of it tumbled afterward and he was unable to stop it. ...don't...leave me... When had he become so weak? So glaringly pitiful?

I will not, most-loved. It isn't possible.

Yoda said if I ....you would go.

Ah. So I would, to have followed you, I fear. There was a rumble of laughter under the admission. I believe events have turned out not as the Sith would have hoped. Certainly not as Palpatine desired.

Now he was confused. And weary.

Rest. Heal. I will explain...when you are.... The warmth of hand pressed against the side of his cheek and moved upward over his forehead, followed by the press of lips. More yourself.. he said and there was another murmur of amusement.

And from Yoda as well who seemed at once annoyed, surprised and amused.

Wearily but feeling far more at peace than he had in some time, Obi-Wan disappeared back into the shadowy depths without dreams.

"He is far from being out of danger."

He knew that voice. Healer Nessil.

"Histh body healsth." That voice as well. Master Healer Kir-ek, the words slippery sounding as he forced articulation from his gills. "It isth time for histh mind to take itsth placeth there."

"He will come back to himself when he is ready," Qui-Gon sounded confident but there was a shading beneath. An uncertainty.

His own uncertainty, hidden beneath the protective cloak of Qui-Gon's consciousness.

"The strain on you cannot continue, Master Jinn" Nessil was outright scolding. "You cannot manage this and the training of the boy."

"When I have lost my sense of reason, you may do as you see fit, Healer. It is no burden to hold him here."

Not through his own ears but Qui-Gon's. He felt a wave of vertigo, echoed by his Master. "He may well have decided without us," Qui-Gon murmured and turned on his heel to leave the healers. Half recognized visions of stone walls, tiled floors -- the palace on Naboo.

He wanted to close his eyes but they remained stubbornly open, the sight confusing and disorienting.

Focus elsewhere, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's tone was soothing but there was an edge of confusion there as well.

A door opened and he caught a glimpse of Nessil hurrying ahead, nearing the bed set in the center of a makeshift infirmary, then he was past her and looking down at his own face.

It was more than disorienting, and he felt himself pulling back, not sure if he were awake or dreaming.

Neither, padawan.

A large hand enfolded his own, callused, warm. That, he could concentrate on and did. The vertigo passed as did the confusion. He opened his eyes again and saw his own face once more, not the face of his master.

Panic reared up, the feelings and sensations familiar but not. Another hand reached out and gently lay across the pale, lax face on the bed.

He could feel it and see it. It was a disturbing sensation.

A shell, almost, padawan, Qui-Gon soothed. Waiting for you. When you are ready.

Where am I?

Reassurance was sent, wrapping around him. With me, Obi-Wan. Where you belong, although the healers would disagree. As you did when Maul found us...you have...become part of me. For now. They are rather amazed you have managed it so well and that your body still lives. As was Qui-Gon, and relieved as well.

Part of his Master. That explained the reluctance to leave the peace he'd found. But Nessil and Kir-ek were concerned for Qui-Gon.

I am not as concerned as they, padawan. The easy tone was calming. They fear the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be for you. Had Maul not attacked me, they believe you would not have revealed yourself.

He meant to kill you.

Yes. And take you...thinking he had...what his Master sought. He would have failed again, no matter the outcome. I did not realize it. I might have brought things to a far more hasty conclusion had you not intervened.

Qui-Gon's intention was as open to Obi-Wan as if it had been his own and in an odd way, it was his own.

They fear for you...

Qui-Gon considered and acquiesced. You have a habit of coming...into your own thoughts at ...awkward times. My exercise sessions have become a study in being able to split my attention. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Broken memories...of executing complex maneuvers and being thrown off his stride. Qui-Gon had a few more bruises than usual as he exercised and honed his skills.

What do ...you want, Master?

He got no answer, nor would he he realized. He shifted his focus, bracing himself for the disconcerting image of himself. His Master's hand lay on his chest now, above the blankets, moving only so slightly with the steady pulse of his heart, and the expansion of his lungs as he breathed. He could feel his body now, the weakness in it, functioning but devoid of any real life save those functions necessary to maintain it. The bruises had faded, the cut on his forehead was gone. His body had been like this for a long time it seemed.

What do the healers, want? he changed the direction of the question, feeling no connection to that body on the bed at all. Better if he did not...it frightened him. As if it were some creature separate from himself.

Alarms sounded and his examination of his own self was interrupted and Qui-Gon was shoved from the bed by the Healers...doing their work, keeping the body alive.

Is this what you want, padawan? Qui-Gon had closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of his apprentice's failing body. You will not lose me no matter what you choose.

But Qui-Gon would lose...something...although he would not admit it.

The pleasure he got from looking at his padawan, the simple comfort of touch. He would sustain it, allow Obi-Wan to occupy his consciousness and body. They would adjust.

But there were trials to come -- Palpatine was dangerous, the Republic was falling apart, there were skirmishes on a half-dozen fronts, a child to train, a thousand things which demanded Qui-Gon's attention, needed his skill, his experience.

His effectiveness would be hampered by having to constantly balance his own sense of self against that of an additional consciousness in his being.

We will manage, Obi-Wan. His faith was absolute.

But then, it always had been.

Master...

Are you certain, most-loved?

... have faith...master...

It was difficult to separate himself, to step away from that embrace that held him so close, allowed him every freedom...

A hand on Nessil's shoulder drew her back from the laboring body and in truth, Qui-Gon did not need to touch him to effect release. But his last shared thought was that Qui-Gon had his own reasons for wanting to be that close.

Lungs ached, weakness was almost enough to rob him of his senses on any level, no devastating physical pain attended the merging but it was there nonetheless.

It was made easier by the feel of strong arms holding him gently and the reward was greatest when he forced blurred eyes to open to behold the face he had been denied seeing.

And when the warm lips brushed over his own he could quite clearly recall a thousand reasons of his own for it to be thus.

And we will explore each of them...in time, Obi-Wan.

His throat was dry and he was tired beyond imagining but he found voice for an answer "Yes, Master..."

His master laughed and Obi-Wan smiled. One reason down.

Epilogue

Qui-Gon glanced down at the boy at his side, smiling faintly to see the look of rapt attention on his young apprentice's face. Consternation as well. He was being given a high goal to reach for.

His gaze shifted and softened as he watched Obi-Wan move through the complex maneuvers. Far in advance of his training and Qui-Gon could still see the echoes of his own style in the way the lithe body moved, leapt, twisted, almost took flight.

But the discipline was far more obvious, an understandable offshoot of Obi-Wan's close brush with the Dark Side. They had adjusted. There were times when Qui-Gon missed his former apprentice's exuberance. The more solemn, thoughtful Jedi that had taken his place a force to be reckoned with -- as the council was coming to know.

He could find humor in that as well. Obi-Wan's convictions were presented far more logically and well thought out than Qui-Gon's had ever been. The Apprentice succeeding the Master.

As it should be.

But he still missed, occasionally, that reckless fire. Having been tempted by the Dark once, Obi-Wan would not so allow it again. And if it took rigid discipline to maintain the peace he now saw on his former apprentice's face, then so be it.

The last hurdle was passed and Obi-Wan tucked and rolled, body extended in a perfect arrow, as one foot touched the lowly earth again and he dropped settle his weight on one foot, one knee, the second then up again in a fluid movement.

"Wow."

Obi-Wan focused on the boy and smiled slightly.

"I'll never be able to do that," Anakin said, sulking a bit. He felt far more confident among the tool parts and the ship practice.

"You will," Obi-Wan said confidently.

Anakin looked at him suspiciously but then jumped off the bench where he had been watching and went to reset the rings and bars lower for his own practice.

Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan a towel, which the other man accepted with warm courtesy and set about his neck to wipe his face. The sleeveless tunic revealed old scars no longer noticed except in private. The thick hair was cropped short, almost severely and as he passed a cup of juice to the other man, Qui-Gon's gazed slipped to his own wrist, where a braided length of dark red-gold hair formed a bracelet that was never removed.

Nor was similar bracelet of darker hair laced with silver ever removed from Obi-Wan's wrist.

But Obi-Wan was not looking at his lover but watching the boy, as he did frequently, a small frown adding to the lines around his mouth.

"He troubles you still?" Qui-Gon asked softly.

"He doesn't like to...be thwarted...to fail," Obi-Wan said quietly and then turned back, sipping at the juice.

"A failing all of us can identify with to some extent," Qui-Gon said and then moved behind Obi-Wan to rub the warm shoulders as Anakin began his own practice.

As Obi-Wan predicted, the boy improved, his reward was to be released from the tedious exercise to something more to his liking, which, neither of his teachers doubted, would be somewhere digging around in the Naboo's hangers with the mechanics. But he was a favorite, almost pampered, especially since the Queen also doted on him. Not spoiled but close. Anakin was very-single minded in his desire to become a Jedi.

Alone, Qui-Gon felt the tightly bound control Obi-Wan kept on himself release slightly, as he leaned back against Qui-Gon's body -- tension released from his taxed muscle under Qui-Gon's hands.

Council Session? Obi-Wan reminded him after a few moments. Open Council, regularly held with their numbers spread so thin.

Canceled since Master Windu has been delayed for repairs. A rare afternoon to ourselves, most-loved.

Obi-Wan twisted on the bench to peer up into Qui-Gon's face, the smile playing on his lips for Qui-Gon alone to see. Few others saw it without restraint.

Not always so restrained, are we, Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon teased.

Obi-Wan was past his shields and occupying a place he had never really completely abandoned -- only the graceful body still moved, and the rich voice could still be heard. "It is, Master Yoda, complains, difficult to find us like this."

So it was and the healers and masters were still trying to figure it out, to use it. Controlling the will of another through the Force was a skill well-known and taught but to lose one's self inside another was difficult -- but incredibly useful. One Obi-Wan had used to advantage in the missions of the past year. A few could manage it -- Yoda, Qui-Gon. But it took a great deal of concentration and energy.

Except for Obi-Wan. And the traditionalists were leery of it. Too grey a skill but they had not barred the use of it -- not with the needs for spies so great as Palpatine gathered more and more power to himself. For the Jedi to be able to hide their presence was becoming more and more necessary.

Qui-Gon had yet to tell them of the other uses for the skill he and Obi-Wan had found.

Their quarters were above the main level, a suite of three rooms connected by a common area; the third room, Anakin's, who had standing orders not to disturb them if the connecting door was closed -- unless the palace was under attack.

Do you like seeing yourself through my eyes? Qui-Gon asked his lover as they entered and very securely closed the door.

Stripping off his practice clothes, Obi-Wan folded them with unconscious grace and faced him, allowing Qui-Gon to see himself through Obi-Wan's eyes.

Hmmph.

Laughter greeted him, silent but there, in his mind, filling his senses. And then Obi-Wan's presence was gone and they were separate again. Well, mostly separate.

But not for long.

~~end~~