Master Apprentice Archive Fates - Atropos Quick search:

Fates - Atropos

by Leandra and Raina

Archive: yes please, M_A; nuttersinc (nowhere else)

Pairing: Q/O

Category: AU, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: We don't own Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. We do own Quiggs, Ben, Seda, Dun, Lieth, Ronwe, Master Titulus, Master Rob and of course Squicky the Swamprat.

Feedback: always a treat. raina_at@yahoo.de ; nuttersincorporated@hotmail.com

Summary: One Love. Two Padawans. Three Destinies.

Spoilers: TPM. And for previous installments of the Fates Universe.

Notes: The title refers to the ancient Greek goddesses of destiny, the three Fates. The last one, who severs the thread of human life, is called Atropos.

Series: Yes, Fates. The last of the Cornerstone Trilogy (Clotho and Lachesis were Parts 1 and 2). Atropos starts two days after "Fates- Unsent Letters" ended. This is the final installment of the Fates - series.

Thank you's: Hugest kudos to our wonderful and patient beta Tem-ve. We can't express in words how much we appreciate you. Thank you for all your help and input. Thanks to all the readers, thanks for your feedback and encouragement.

Prologue

It was so early the light wasn't even a faint promise on the horizon. Dawn had begun only a few breaths ago, but already he was out at the edge of the desert, where no sound penetrated the eternal quiet of this hour. The desert was still or already asleep. The farm behind him was lying in deep slumber.

But the Living Force did not sleep. It was strongest at this time, in fact, when nothing else seemed to need it, no living creature seemed to stir and draw on it, except one lone figure on the fringes of the desert.

He raised his hands to where the suns would soon start to rise and bring the flaming heat that made living here so difficult and such a challenge.

He bowed, deeply.
Breathed, deeply.
Then he began.

Living meditation, Master Rob had always said about katas. Dancing with the Force, Obi-Wan had called them. Somewhere in between, Qui- Gon found his own truth.

His feet moved on the still cool sand. In a few hours, his skin would get burned if he so much as touched it. But now, it was perfect. He could feel every grain of it, every pulse of the Living Force through the earth beneath it.

He let go of his conscious mind, abandoned himself to the moment and just felt. Felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. Felt grains of the fine sand settle under his toenails. Felt the air around him grow fractionally warmer. Felt a breeze of wind on his face.

His mind expanded, drifted with the breeze, wind that smelled of lightning and distant turmoil of air and life and sand. Sand, the sand was ubiquitous here on this planet, in the food, in his clothes, in his ears when he washed at night.

Never so much water that he could get all the sand from his body. But he'd learned to live with the sand, appreciate it even.

The wind drew him further away from the dune sea, to the mountains, the wasteland, to the plains with the larger settlements.

The movements of the kata flowed through him, around him, while his mind drifted on the currents of the Living Force, shifting, changing, whirling.

He trailed off and opened his eyes. He took a deep breath to smell the wind. Currents of turmoil in the Force. Like the clouds on Corellia, the ones Master Rob had called tornado-makers. Something was coming.

He brushed the sand off his bare arms and went back to the house. He met Tahl at the front door where she had stood watching him. "Storm coming?" she asked, looking at the horizon.

He nodded. "That too."

She frowned, but he wasn't able to explain his feeling, he only knew there was something in the air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He turned to her when she came into the kitchen. "Take what you need for trading, I'll ready the transport. We're going to Mos Espa."

The heat was merciless and despite Obi-Wan's attempts to lower his body temperature he could feel the trickle of sweat down his spine, soaking the three layers of shirts he wore. Over the last hour a wind had picked up, but the air was still scorching hot and the breeze was no relief. On the contrary, it just added to his discomfort.

Tatooine's climate was rough and he would have preferred even Dagobah as a place for their emergency landing, save for the fact that they had more chances to get a hyper drive for their Nubian ship in Mos Espa. The negotiations with the Trade Federation hadn't gone as expected; in fact, they had never taken place. After their narrow escape from the Trade Federation's spaceship which had orbited around the small planet of Naboo, Master Yoda and he had freed Queen Amidala of Naboo from the clutches of an invasion army. The trade blockade that had held up all shipping to and from Naboo had tried to prevent their escape, destroying their main power generator. The power had been re-established, but the hyper drive leaked and they didn't have enough fuel to reach Coruscant, so they'd had to stop somewhere on their way home. Tatooine was controlled by the Hutts and the Trade Federation had no business there, making it an excellent place to restock their fuel and repair the ship.

Drawing up the hood on his poncho to conceal his Padawan braid from view, he took a look at his companions. They had fled from the merciless twin suns into the shadow of a little side street. Padme, the Queen's handmaiden, was resting on a stone in the shadow between two buildings, wiping her sleeve over her sweaty face. A little droid called R2D2 was standing next to her, beeping in a fashion that seemed to be good-humoured. Obi-Wan was glad that they had left Jar Jar Binks, the clumsy native inhabitant of Naboo's underwater city whom Yoda had picked up somewhere in the swamps, back at the ship. Qui-Gon would have loved the amphibian-like creature. Obi-Wan sighed and bit the inside of his cheeks, angry that he'd been tricked by his own mind once again. He had no time to dwell on his personal misery when there were other more important things to consider.

He picked up his comm unit and contacted Master Yoda back at the ship, keeping a close eye on Padme.

"Master Yoda, I found a T-14 hyper drive for our ship, but unfortunately it will cost more money than we presently have. We'll have to trade."

He listened when Master Yoda told him that nothing of value was on board.

"I know Master. The 20.000 Republic dataries are worth nothing. I 'll try to think about other possibilities. The junkyard dealer is a Toydarian, he can't be affected by a Force suggestion I'm afraid."

"Unfortunate, this is," he heard his Master's voice over the comm link.

"It looks like a storm is coming, Master. We will seek shelter in one of the bars until it's over. Maybe I've found a possibility to purchase the hyper drive by then. I'll contact you as soon as the storm eases."

"Take care, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you, Master."

He disconnected the call and placed his comm unit back into the little satchel on his utility belt, then turned towards Padme, who stood up when she felt his gaze upon her.

Maybe he should have told Master Yoda about the boy he had encountered in the Toydarian's shop. There was something about the boy that had made an impression on Obi-Wan. The moment Anakin had entered the sticky little shop he had felt an immense shift in the Force, a shift he only ever felt when he encountered a Force- sensitive being, but with Anakin it was much stronger. The Force illuminated the boy from within, surrounded him with an intensity not to be missed. Anakin's Force energy had spoken to him on a very basic level and Obi-Wan still felt the aftershocks of this realisation seeping through him. He would think about what to do with the boy later, but he was sure the Force had guided him to this moment, to this time and place for a purpose. Meeting Anakin Skywalker was surely no coincidence.

With a nod of his head he motioned Padme and the droid to follow him out into the crowded streets. He drew up his hood again, partly to hide his braid, which would reveal him as a Jedi, partly to lessen the impact of the suns' power on his face. His fair complexion and disposedness to freckles made him an easy victim for sunburn.

They stopped at a stall to buy two bottles of water, when suddenly out of nowhere, the boy from Watto's shop was standing next to them, tugging at one end of Obi-Wan's poncho.

"Sir, you shouldn't be on the streets anymore. A sand storm is coming."

Smiling, Obi-Wan crouched down until he was eye-level with the boy. "We were just about to seek shelter."

"That's good, Sir. I was a bit worried when you left. Those storms for sure come up fast here."

"Yes, they do."

He got up again, watching the sandy clouds building in the distance, drawing together, picking up speed. The air was tense, sizzling with electric energy. Next to them, the vendor who had just sold them their water started to pack up his things, ready to leave. Several other vendors followed suit.

Again he turned to the boy, who was watching him intently. "Do you have any idea where we could go? A bar, maybe?"

Anakin smiled at him, clearly happy and proud that he had been asked for help. "There is a bar not far from here. They sell excellent fruit juice and ...," he stopped, looking at the ground sheepishly. "I'm not allowed to go there on my own, but if I go with you..."

Grinning, Obi-Wan bent down and ruffled the boy's sandy hair. "I'll take care of you."

The smile the boy bestowed on him in return was so full of happiness that the heavy weight that had lain on his heart for so long lifted for just a moment. Yes, there was something wondrous about meeting Anakin Skywalker.

"Follow me, then."

Anakin led their small group and Obi-Wan trailed behind, watching as Anakin chatted happily with Padme, who laughed at whatever he had to say. The easy and fast way they had made friends suddenly made him feel melancholic and he stopped, maybe to wipe a grain of sand out of his suddenly aching eyes. The sand had started to whirl through the streets, the wind picking up the loose grains from the ground, twirling them high up in the air where they met other grains, building waves of sand that would soon shower the area.

It had become considerably darker since they had left the shelter of the buildings and he turned around, looking down the street they had come from. Almost all the vendors had left their stalls, except for the occasional laggards who were busy carrying goods into their houses. The wind ripped at his clothes and he felt the power behind the upcoming storm, wondering how it was possible to get used to such a force of nature. A lone person came staggering up the road, leaning against the cross wind, a hand over his eyes to keep out the sand. Suddenly, the man stopped, looking at him through the fog of sand and a gasp flew from Obi-Wan's lips. The posture, the flying long hair, the tall frame...

"Obi-Wan, Sir...," Anakin's voice brought him back to the present. "We have to go. The storm is almost upon us. It isn't far."

He nodded as if in a trance, then took a last look at the now deserted road. Nobody was there anymore and whatever he had seen must have been an illusion, a trick of his tired, sand filled eyes. Anakin tugged at his poncho once more and he finally turned around, seeing Padme watching him with a small frown. He nodded once again, then followed Anakin who had started to hurry.

The bar was dingy and loud, filled with the scum of Mos Espa and those who hadn't managed to find their way home in the beginning sandstorm. They had gathered around one of the last empty tables and Obi-Wan had made sure that Padme, R2D2 and Anakin were safe before he made his way over to the bar.

The vision he had seen during the sandstorm still haunted him, a vision that so clearly resembled the one he had seen in his dreams. When he thought about it rationally, he was sure his eyes had played a trick on him and he had mistaken a common inhabitant of Mos Espa for Qui-Gon Jinn. The sandstorm he had foreseen had been a metaphor and the drastic change of weather on Tatooine was merely a coincidence, something to be expected on this planet. Sandstorms were common here, nothing unusual about it at all.

He couldn't let himself be distracted by thoughts of Qui-Gon now. He was on a dangerous mission, his duty was to bring back with him a hyper drive for the Nubian and his major concern had to be the safety of the Queen and her entourage. The boy was a new factor in all this and while he felt the importance of his meeting with Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan had to respect the priorities set. First the Queen, then he could think about the boy. And when he had attended to his duties, he was allowed to ponder his own matters.

He ordered three glasses of a bluish fruit juice, not really sure what it was, but hoping it would slake their thirst. The sand was everywhere, he could even taste it on his tongue and when he moved his mouth to speak, the little grains crunched between his teeth. It would be good to wash away the dirt with the cool liquid. Taking up the tray, he tried to balance it through the throng of people standing at the bar, shouting and shoving and generally behaving rudely to each other. Spaceports where the same everywhere you went, but apparently spaceports controlled by the Hutts were even raunchier places.

He evaded one of the four elbows of a Pho Ph'eahian male, who gestured elaborately, drawing attention as usual, and bumped backwards into somebody.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning around, hoping his misfortune wouldn't result in a fight. One never knew when the folk that inhabited such bars would lose their... he almost let go of his tray when the person who he had bumped into turned out not to be one of the scummy bar folk he had expected.

The loud voices of the bar drowned out and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears, a sudden dizziness taking over. He closed his eyes, taking some deep breaths, then opened them again slowly, hoping it wasn't another vision, another mind trick.

"Ben?"

A hand moved up, hesitated, then brushed the hood from his head, revealing all of his face. The sound set in again, but the feeling of dizziness was still present and he swayed slightly.

"Quiggs..."

His voice was but a whisper, but he wouldn't have found the strength to speak up, even if his heart demanded to shout out the word for all the worlds to hear. Deep blue in his field of vision, then a tentative smile, slowly building, still almost shy as if in awe. He couldn't help but smile back a little, having missed that smile, that face, those eyes for too long.

"Oh Force, Ben, I ..." Qui-Gon reached out again, but shortly before his fingers could brush Obi-Wan's poncho, he stopped himself, his hand shaking a bit.

Finally, Obi-Wan found the strength to speak and while he watched a bit sadly when Qui-Gon drew his hand back without having touched him, he said, "You were here? All the time?"

Qui-Gon nodded, still staring at him with a look of pure astonishment and something else, something Obi-Wan didn't allow himself to analyse.

"I'm sitting over there... I... Why don't you join us?" Obi-Wan suggested.

Qui-Gon nodded again, then suddenly blushed as if remembering something he hadn't thought about before.

"Obi-Wan... this is Tahl. You remember her?"

Only now Obi-Wan registered a blonde woman standing next to Qui-Gon, her strangely coloured eyes watching him with concentrated scrutiny.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, looking at Qui-Gon, whose face showed a hint of carefully suppressed misery.

"Gerona. The wedding. Of course," he said politely. He still remembered the feeling of sickness he had experienced throughout their stay on Gerona and like an echo, the same sickness slowly crept up from his toes to settle not in his stomach this time, but near his heart. He knew. Everything was there to see. He knew now.

Taking a deep breath, he ripped his gaze from Tahl's face, trying to suppress the pain he felt. It hurt as if somebody had stabbed him with a lightsabre several times to make sure the blow would kill for sure.

"Let's sit down. My companions are over there," he managed to say, astonished at how normal he sounded.

Qui-Gon nodded, frowning a bit, then followed Obi-Wan over to the table in the corner where Padme, the droid and Anakin had settled down. Quickly, Obi-Wan introduced the two different parties to each other, then sat down heavily on his seat. He felt he couldn't have stood longer anyway, his knees were feeling much too weak.

Qui-Gon gave him a small, sad smile, not saying anything, while Padme started to ask Tahl about living on Tatooine, making polite conversation. Despite the iron fist that wanted to smash his heart for a second time, he smiled back. He shouldn't be ungrateful. In front of him, only separated by the small table, sat Qui-Gon, their knees almost touching, their hands resting a few inches from each other on the table. It was a miracle that they were able to even be in the same room without experiencing the pain from the Force inhibition, but he was intent upon enjoying every moment of it, not letting his thoughts be tainted by the harsh reality sitting next to them in the form of Qui-Gon's soul mate.

Tahl, he should have known. Qui-Gon and her had gotten along with each other brilliantly during their time on Gerona. Tahl, who in hindsight was so very much like Qui-Gon.

"How's Seda?" Qui-Gon asked.

"She's fine. Had a bit of a hard time with Dun, but they are back together."

How normal a conversation, he thought.

Qui-Gon nodded. "I miss her. The one time I called her..." He interrupted himself and looked down at his hands.

"She was happy you called her."

"I should have called you," Qui-Gon said, raising his gaze, a flicker of pain in his eyes.

"We both know that wouldn't have been a good idea."

Qui-Gon looked away, fixing his gaze at one of the customers standing at the bar. None of them said a word for what seemed like hours. The chatter of Anakin, Padme and Tahl discussing the profit one could make with moisture farming washed over Obi-Wan, but he had no intention to join in, so he studied Qui-Gon's profile quietly. He had forgotten how beautiful he was. All that time he had thought he could remember the exact shade of his blue eyes, but his memory couldn't compete with reality. His hair was longer, almost hanging down onto his shoulders, strands of the dark brown tresses bleached to a cinnamon colour by the suns. His face was tanned deeply, giving him a healthy look. He had grown himself a short beard, full enough to conceal the small scar on his chin Obi-Wan knew was there.

"I need something stronger to drink," Qui-Gon said abruptly.

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon stood up and turned to him. "Join me?"

He nodded. Yes, he could use something stronger to drink as well right now.

Drink. Get something to drink. Something strong, preferably. Something that would kill the flock of mynocks currently going crazy in Qui-Gon's stomach. He glanced back over his shoulder quickly, to see if Obi-Wan was still there. If he wasn't completely delusional. The three letters on his lower back itched. His boots made little squeaking noises on the cantina's hard floor. All real. All sounds and feelings he'd hardly imagine. So this must be real, then. He had just bumped into Obi-Wan Kenobi. Literally.

A million questions shot through his mind, from what Obi-Wan was doing here to whether his eyes had always been this amazing, but right now he couldn't address any of them, confusion, joy and guilt warring for supremacy in his heart.

They reached the bar and he signalled the barkeeper for a shot. He received one and downed in one gulp before turning back to Obi-Wan, who was leaning on the counter next to him, watching him with these incredible eyes.

Force, he looked good. From his dusty boots, the shabby poncho up to his sweaty, dishevelled hair Qui-Gon had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in his entire life. He could not help himself. He stared. Watched compulsively as Obi-Wan ordered another drink, watched his hands move and the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

Too much. After a year of missing Obi-Wan like a severed limb the temptation to give in to the urge to touch, feel, smell and kiss was overwhelming. Once again he stilled his shaking hand, not sure how he'd be received if he tried to touch, the circumstances of his leaving and a year of silence lying between them like a rock.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes steadily on his drink, giving Qui-Gon no indication as to how he felt about their sudden reunion. He'd seen the flash of pain in Obi-Wan's eyes when he'd introduced Tahl, but this could be presumption on his part.

He gestured to the barkeeper for another drink, his mind fishing for something to say, but Obi-Wan took away that problem.

"So it's Tahl," Obi-Wan said, addressing his glass of Regelian vodka.

Qui-Gon swallowed and answered softly, "Yes."

Obi-Wan looked up briefly, the pain in his eyes more than Qui-Gon could bear. "That explains a lot, I guess."

He shrugged. "Guess so."

"She's your soul bonded, then?" Obi-Wan obviously tried for a neutral tone, but Qui-Gon knew him too well for that, he heard the hurt in Obi-Wan's voice.

"Well, she's supposed to be, at least."

Obi-Wan looked up, meeting his eyes, the hope in the green-blue depths making Qui-Gon smile. "So you haven't..." His eyes flickered down to his drink again, away from Qui-Gon's.

Qui-Gon shook his head, the smile spreading for real now. "No. I couldn't." His tone was warm and gentle, his voice low.

"Why?" Obi-Wan asked, trembling, obviously afraid of the answer.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and remembered an afternoon in a training hall a lifetime ago. A very similar conversation, a very different time. And his voice found the same words now Obi-Wan's had so long ago. "She's not you."

Obi-Wan looked up sharply, his eyes deep blue and bright with emotion. "Quiggs...," he whispered and raised a hand, staring at Qui- Gon in open wonder as he rested his palm lightly over Qui-Gon's heart.

Qui-Gon blinked, his eyes blurry with moisture, the smile on his face bright now, and placed his hand over Obi-Wan's. "Ben."

Obi-Wan stared at their touching hands. "Why are we able to touch? The Force inhibition..."

Qui-Gon shrugged, using his other hand to tilt Obi-Wan's head up. "Does it matter? Live in the moment."

The old, familiar reminder brought a smile to Obi-Wan's face. Their eyes met once again and the feeling hit Qui-Gon in the gut with its might. Here. Before him. Alive, well, and so incredibly beautiful. Touching him. His heart under Obi-Wan's palm sped up and he had to swallow around the sudden dryness in his mouth as Obi-Wan raised his other hand to Qui-Gon's hair and shyly brushed a strand of it back from Qui-Gon's eyes. "I like the hair. Reminds me of the way you wore it when we first met."

Qui-Gon could only nod and watch Obi-Wan's lips in fascination as they moved. He vividly remembered every single dream he'd had about this moment, when they'd finally meet again, and most of his fantasies had involved slamming Obi-Wan against the next wall and kissing him breathless. If he had the guts now, he would do exactly that, but he wasn't sure if Obi-Wan would tolerate it, though judging from the way his eyes turned green...

Qui-Gon's mind went from overdrive into standstill, from overstuffed to empty when Obi-Wan licked his lips, and he had to, just had to lean in a bit and maybe, just maybe get a tiny, tiny taste, and he distantly perceived that Obi-Wan leaned in as well, mirroring his own starvation with eyes almost completely green, and warm breath ghosted over his cheeks...

He was shoved against a wall before he knew what was happening and Obi-Wan was twisting the arm of a raunchy-looking Malastarian behind his back and speaking to him in a tone Qui-Gon knew all too well, "So, interested in my friends' credit chips, are we? Well, you can be glad I caught you first, he would have pounded you to mush."

Obi-Wan released the fellow and smiled pleasantly. The Malastarian glared at Obi-Wan, and the young Jedi returned the look with icy eyes, his whole stance a clear warning. Any sane being would have backed off, but the Malastarian had obviously handed in his wits at the door, so he charged Obi-Wan with a vibro-dagger in his hand. For a moment, there was a blue flash of light and the distinctive hum of a lightsabre coming to life, but it was gone before he really knew it was there and the Malastarian was lying on the floor, holding his wound, looking at his severed arm in horror.

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, blushing slightly when he met his eyes. "Shall we return to our table?"

Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head. "Very subtle, Kenobi."

"Oh, shut up, Quiggs," came the expected answer, together with the irrepressible grin.

Force, how he had missed him! Qui-Gon couldn't suppress a wide grin spreading over his face and he motioned for Obi-Wan to precede him back to their table. Obi-Wan followed the invitation with a cocked eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.

They sat down at the table, still grinning. Conversation between the two women stilled and three pairs of eyes settled on them. Qui-Gon was aware of Tahl's stare, aware of her puzzlement, but ignored her for now. He had more pressing questions. "Ben, what exactly are you doing here, anyway?"

Obi-Wan looked around the bar pointedly. "Walls have ears, Quiggs."

Tahl stared at Obi-Wan incredulously. "Did he just call you Quiggs?"

Qui-Gon nodded, then shrugged it off. "I never managed to break him of the habit." He smiled warmly at Obi-Wan. "And to tell the truth, I kind of liked it," he continued quietly, meeting and holding Obi- Wan's eyes. "Do you think anyone here speaks ancient Coruscanti?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't think so."

Ancient Coruscanti was a dead language, but it was still taught to Jedi Padawans, for many of the old texts had never been translated. Jedi Padawans had to be able to at least translate this language, and most of them could speak it at least rudimentarily.

It was strange listening to Obi-Wan explain his mission in the words of the ancient language, and he had to use the Corellian term for hyper drive generator, but in the end, Qui-Gon understood. "So you need money?" he asked in Basic.

Obi-Wan nodded. "And there is more." He switched back into Ancient Coruscanti and added, "The boy. He is special. I feel he is of great importance."

"So you need to free him."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Why do you think the Force permits us to touch again?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. He frowned, trying to remember enough of Ancient Coruscanti to express his complex suspicions. "You walk your path, I walk mine now. We do not try to walk the same path, they just met."

Obi-Wan nodded, switching back to Basic when he caught the rest of their small group staring at them. "Sorry, but I had to tell Qui-Gon why we're here. Now, how do we get the money for the hyper drive generator? Watto said that nobody here accepts Republic Datares."

Anakin nodded. "He told you the truth. Nobody here takes Republic money. And it won't help when they learn that you're Jedi."

Qui-Gon frowned, thinking. "Do you have anything of value you could sell or bargain?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I could try to sell our lovely Padme here, but other than that..." he trailed off and winked at the girl, who blushed fiercely.

Qui-Gon hid his smile. The famous Kenobi charm obviously still worked with almost anyone. He could see that both Anakin and Padme watched Obi-Wan with eyes of near-worship. The only one who seemed thoroughly unimpressed, even hostile, was Tahl, but he guessed he couldn't really blame her. "So how does one make money, and fast?"

"I don't have time to earn it...," Obi-Wan said, frowning.

"You don't have anything to sell..."

"Can't mind-control my way out of it."

"Can't really steal it either, can you?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not with Yoda here, at least."

They both chuckled, unaware of the other people at the table, who were watching them with puzzlement.

"Well, I could always try to sell myself out as pleasure boy."

Qui-Gon snorted and took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, right, Kenobi, not even you could make that much money so fast."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, it's worth a try. Do you think I'll have a chance if I sing?"

Qui-Gon coughed up his drink. The memory of that particular night flashed before his eyes. The bar, the music, the red spotlight on Obi- Wan, sensual movements, an even more sensual voice, and all for him alone. He regained his breath with difficulty and swallowed. "I would gladly give anything I owned for that," he whispered in Ancient Coruscanti.

Obi-Wan's smile gentled. "You know it's a pity you don't speak Dagobese. Ancient Coruscanti gets on my nerves."

He smiled back. He did speak Dagobese, but only a few swear words he had picked up from Obi-Wan over the years.

They shared a long look, and the silence on the table was only broken when Padme cleared her throat and asked Tahl, in a low voice, "These junk dealers must have a weakness of some kind."

Tahl shrugged. "I never had much contact with them, but most of the traders here are gambling addicts. People on Tatooine have only one joy: gambling and betting on diverse sports events."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That would be just about the only way of making fast money around here. Gambling."

"It's too risky. And I don't have anything to bet," Obi-Wan objected.

"Well, you do have the ship. You'd just need a sure bet," Qui-Gon answered.

The five of them fell silent again.

The volume of the holovid unit in the corner was suddenly turned up by the Twi'lek barkeeper and through the silence they could all hear the announcer, a two-headed being of a species Qui-Gon had never seen before, conferencing with himself about the event of the night. "Come to Gardulla the Hutt's palace tonight! The gracious hostess has organised one of her famous fighting tournaments. Whoever is brave enough to meet her undefeated champion in battle will receive a high reward. Come one, come all, people of Mos Espa. It will surely be an event to remember." The holocamera focused on Gardulla the Hutt and her champion, a huge four-armed alien of unfathomable origin. He grinned into the camera and made squashing gestures with two of his huge fists.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Oh no."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Cone on, Quiggs, it's not like I've got much of a choice."

Qui-Gon ran his hand through his hair. "I guess you have a point."

Tahl looked from one to the other. "What are you talking about?"

Obi-Wan pointed at the screen. "I'll fight in that event tonight to win the money we need for the hyper drive."

Qui-Gon looked back at the screen and shuddered. There was no way he'd watch Obi-Wan fight this thing. "No offence, Obi-Wan, but this thing would crush you and that's the last thing you can afford. You have a mission here; you can't get your face smashed now. Besides, I was always better at unarmed combat."

Obi-Wan stared at him. "No. No way. Forget it. This isn't your fight, it's mine. I won't have you risk yourself for my mission."

Tahl nodded. "He's right, Qui-Gon, there's no need for that."

Qui-Gon ignored her and locked eyes with Obi-Wan. Stared at him, unblinking. "Obi-Wan, be reasonable. You and I both know that if I fight this thing, I'll win, and with a minimum of damage. You won't be much use to your mission with two or three broken limbs." He paused, but Obi-Wan didn't relent, still staring at him defiantly.

"Please, Ben. I can't bear to watch you get hurt," he added in Ancient Coruscanti, his voice no more that a whisper.

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan nodded, obviously touched. "All right. But if your nose gets broken again, don't come complaining to me."

Qui-Gon smiled, relieved. "Thank you. And don't worry about my nose, maybe that guy will set it right again."

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "I hope not. I always liked it the way it is."

Qui-Gon had to swallow back the lump in his throat, but didn't get to reply, for Tahl burst in, "Are you crazy? You're going to fight that thing?" She pointed at the screen, where the four-armed champion was shown snapping a Tusken Raider's arm as if it was a rotten piece of wood.

Qui-Gon smiled. "Can't be harder than playing a round of Batball."

Obi-Wan rubbed his collarbones in memory of his old injury. "From your lips to the Force, Quiggs."

Anakin piped up, "So you'll fight the thug, Qui-Gon?"

He nodded.

"Cool!" Anakin grinned.

Qui-Gon chuckled to himself. Obi-Wan was right, he thought, the child was indeed special. He felt it in every cell. Or maybe the gleeful grin just reminded him of Ben. He sighed and turned back to Obi-Wan. "Shall we go?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "But I can't possibly take Padme or the droid."

Anakin took Padme's hand. "It's all right, they can stay with us. I'll show her the droid I built. Its name is C3PO."

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ani. And what about you, Tahl?"

"I'll come along," she grated out through clenched teeth, giving Obi- Wan a death glare.

Qui-Gon looked back at the monitor and couldn't help a smile. Life was so much more interesting around Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Gardulla the Hutt's palace was a dungeon-like place on the outskirts of town, in one of the raunchiest parts of Mos Espa. They had done well with leaving Padme at Anakin's. The people populating Gardulla's palace tonight were the worst scum one could find in the galaxy, all kinds of smugglers and dealers and criminals thrown together. The only real wealth one could make in Mos Espa was by gambling and maybe that was the reason why the place was already packed when Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and Tahl arrived.

At a betting desk, a slimy Hutt accepted bets for different fights this evening.

"I'm going to do it," Obi-Wan said and started to shrug off his tunic, fumbling with the wide sleeves.

A hand on his shoulder held him back. "No, you can't. We already went through this."

Obi-Wan frowned, but then started to nod with reluctance. "You're right."

He watched as Qui-Gon instead now started to strip off his tunic and couldn't help but catch his breath at the tanned skin that was revealed, couldn't help but almost moan when a dark hard nipple showed. "I always had a thing for you boxing..." He blushed, wishing he hadn't thought this, hadn't said this, but Qui-Gon didn't answer. He handed Obi-Wan his tunic and their fingers brushed, a little bolt of shock shooting through Obi-Wan's hand where their fingers had touched if only for a short moment.

Tahl suddenly stood next to them, frowning, her arms placed on her hips, watching them both suspiciously. "Where are you going?"

"To the registration," Qui-Gon said, stretching his arms, cracking his knuckles, not looking at her, neither at Obi-Wan.

"No, you aren't." Her voice was cold and edgy, showing how much she objected.

"I am."

Qui-Gon still didn't look at her. "Place your bets," he said, while walking over to the registration desk.

An uncomfortable silence ensued between Obi-Wan and Tahl. Obi-Wan didn't want to look up; instead he stared at his fingers, which held the rough fabric of Qui-Gon's tunic. The cloth was body-warm on his skin and he knew that if he lifted it up to his nose, it would smell like Qui-Gon. He battled with his wish to bury his face in the cloth, instead simply felt it between his callused fingertips. How often he had fisted his hands into Qui-Gon's clothes when they had kissed.

Tahl's fuming presence brought him back to the present and for the first time, he really looked at her, but all that he saw was a lithe, blonde woman with a sour face. Tahl felt his gaze upon her and she frowned, her eyes blazing.

"I know who you are. You're the reason why I can't have what rightfully belongs to me."

Her words were sharp and they should have cut like a knife, but instead they made his heart sing with joy. He kept his features calm, clamping down on the smug grin that wanted to show on his face. Whatever you think, whatever you do, whatever fate has gifted you with and rejected me, he'll never be yours because he belongs to me. But he didn't say it.

"I won't let you come barging back into his life and ruin everything. Isn't it enough that he still thinks of you, even after a whole year?"

"I'm going to place my bet," Obi-Wan interrupted her rant, as much as he wanted to hear it. Her despair and anger shouldn't delight him, but more than the awed look on Qui-Gon's face when he first saw him, he had his answer now. Qui-Gon still loved him. He loved him, and everything was good.

When he came back from the betting desk, the first fight of the evening had already ended. The first opponent of the champion was being revived with a bottle of water in a corner, the four-armed alien who had defeated him, grinning viciously. The next fighter got into the ring and Obi-Wan watched, his eyes occasionally drifting towards the registration desk where Qui-Gon waited for his turn. The man in the ring didn't last long and two Malastarian males got into the ring and strapped him on a stretcher.

Then Qui-Gon was standing in the ring, facing his four-armed opponent, a grim look on his face. Obi-Wan went to stand next to Tahl, almost wishing for more of her hateful tirades directed at him. He couldn't shake away the feeling of being superior, couldn't shake away the satisfaction that despite the fact that she was Qui-Gon's destined, he was the one who held Qui-Gon's heart. How could I have ever doubted him, he thought, his eyes drinking in Qui-Gon's half- clad form. A sudden feeling of possessiveness came over him. The crooked nose, those impressive eyes, the broad shoulders, the flat stomach, the brownish trail of hair on his belly, the little scar on his chin, the few moles on his shoulders, the firm ass, those long legs down to the last perfect toe nail, all his.

A gong sounded and the two men in the ring started to circle each other, arms outstretched, upper body leaning forward, studying each other with determined expressions. It was the second time they circled each other and Qui-Gon turned his back to Obi-Wan, when he saw it. There, in the small of his back, just only visible over the top of his low-slung trousers. Three letters, still reddened and layered with a crust of dried blood. Yes, all this was his, and there was the truth, written in ink on skin. Three letters. Ben.

Then the four-armed being leapt and the fight started in earnest. It had always been delightful to watch Qui-Gon in unarmed combat. He had the grace of a dancer, every movement controlled and well-considered, no motion a waste. He dodged and kicked and leapt, evading the fists of his opponent with an ease Obi-Wan had always admired. His Jedi reflexes enabled him to sense the blow before he saw it coming.

"It's beyond me how you could agree on that. If you love him only half as much as I do, you wouldn't want to see him hurt."

Tahl's quiet words registered slowly, and he turned to her, looking into her eyes for the first time. He suddenly felt bad for his feelings of smugness and superiority. Here was somebody who loved Qui- Gon just as he did, and he had shrugged off her feelings as something lower, something less important than his.

"Nothing will happen to him, believe me," he finally said and he saw a flicker of pain in her unusual eyes. "If I wasn't so sure, I would never have let him go up there..."

She turned her face away and gripped the rope in front of her, clutching it, her knuckles white. He didn't know if it was anger she felt now, or pain, for she wouldn't let him see her expression. He turned his attention back to the fight. Qui-Gon had managed to deliver some carefully aimed blows to the other man's stomach. His opponent was giving as good as he could, but Qui-Gon was too fast, too dexterous and evaded his fists every time.

A forceful blow to his nose ended Qui-Gon's untouched state and Obi- Wan flinched. If there was a weak point in Qui-Gon's defence, it had always been his nose. Qui-Gon didn't allow himself to tend to his injury for one moment, but lashed out again, this time throwing the other man back a few feet, tumbling him to the ground. Qui-Gon's opponent let out a strangled cry. Obi-Wan slowly turned and made his way over to the betting desk. The fight was very much over.

He picked up a drink on his way and when he heard the cheer of the crowd and the sound of the gong ending the fight, he tossed the sharp liquid back.

Tahl was the first to step up to Qui-Gon when he left the ring and Obi-Wan watched from a distance as she fussed about his nose, searching in her pocket for something to wipe the blood from his face.

Qui-Gon, despite his punched nose, was grinning from ear to ear and he still grinned when he finally stood in front of Obi-Wan. "I almost forgot how much fun this is."

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are," Obi-Wan wanted to say, but he kept silent, simply answering Qui-Gon's addictive grin.

"And hey... I finally received a blow after never being able to collect even the faintest bruise," Qui-Gon joked, raising his hand and brushing his knuckles over his nose, smearing blood on his fingers in the process. He looked at the blood on his hand almost gleefully.

"Don't forget about the two times you broke your nose," Obi-Wan couldn't help but remind him.

"That was way before your time," Qui-Gon answered good-humouredly.

There was so much Obi-Wan wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start and the moment slipped away when Qui-Gon sniffed back the blood still oozing from his nose and said, "I need to go to the bathroom and wash the blood off my face before Tahl wants to take me to a medical ward."

Obi-Wan looked over at Tahl, who was watching them from the sidelines of the ring where she had stood before when they had had their unfortunate conversation, her face unreadable now. He turned around to see Qui-Gon's retreating back, the three letters beckoning him on. Without another look at Tahl, he headed in the direction of the bathroom himself.

He stopped in the doorframe. Qui-Gon was standing with his back to him, bent over a sink, his hands scrubbing his face, washing away the blood and sweat, spluttering and huffing, the muscles shifting in his back with the movement of his arms. Obi-Wan felt like an intruder as he watched the play of muscles under sweaty skin, watched when Qui- Gon suddenly held his whole head under the sensor, turning his face from side to side, eyes squeezed shut against the water. Obi-Wan tried to analyse his emotions, but they were a whirlwind of joy and love and need, too forceful to separate each emotion and contemplate it. Fighting against the feeling of intrusion, he reminded himself that this was the man he loved, the man he had held in his arms so often, the man he had made love to and the man he belonged to. Slowly, he took several steps forward until he could feel Qui-Gon's body heat rising from his damp back, rising up to meet his own. Electricity was in the air, but it wasn't the kind which would push him away, more a magnetic energy and he reached out with shaky fingers until his fingertips touched the angry welt of black and red skin on Qui-Gon's back that marked the ancient letter 'B'. The gash under his fingertips felt uneven and rough, but he found himself liking this roughness, liking this kind of scar. Qui-Gon froze under the touch of his trembling fingers.

"When did you get it?" he asked quietly and looked up to see himself in the mirror, standing behind Qui-Gon, a strangely calm expression on his face though his heart beat in his chest like a drum and he had a queasy feeling in his stomach.

Qui-Gon straightened and turned around, brushing the dripping strands of his hair out of his face. Involuntarily, Obi-Wan took a half step back to give him some room. Water droplets were running down Qui- Gon's face and there was still a small fresh trickle of red on his upper lip. Quite possibly Obi-Wan had forgotten how to breathe, but he surely had forgotten how to speak. His breathing sped up as their eyes locked and he opened his mouth, unconsciously licking his lips. He remembered a different bathroom on a different world what seemed a lifetime away. There was no need for words now. All he needed to know was reflected in Qui-Gon's eyes and when he closed the distance between them, it was Qui-Gon who closed it as well. They met somewhere in the middle.

It wasn't clumsy, or awkward when their lips sealed onto each other, they moulded perfectly like two halves of a whole, like something that – yes – belonged to each other and Obi-Wan fell forward into the kiss, tumbling against the warm damp body in front of him with a force that sent them both back against the sink. Warm arms slipped around him, hands cupped his head. Wet lips moved against his and he whimpered, parting his mouth. His vision had gone black and blacker, a maelstrom drawing him in, he fell and fell and deeper still he fell, Qui-Gon his anchor, the one thing that kept him rooted to the ground. The tip of a tongue slid along his parted lips and he shivered, the soft wet tickle more intense than anything he had felt in a long time. He reached out with his own, drawing Qui-Gon's tongue into his mouth and there they battled and slipped, slowly relearning the texture of each other until they found that nothing had changed, that it was still the welcoming familiar taste they had both been starved for.

A small vibration against his lips, a small puff of air told him that Qui-Gon was saying something, mumbling something between pants and licks and sucks and he drew back a bit until it was only an occasional lick that wetted his lips, the warm breath from Qui-Gon's mouth an additional caress.

"I missed this... missed you..." he could make out and then Qui-Gon pressed his lips upon his again and he forgot what he had wanted to answer. The kiss became more frantic and they had to part their lips more often to suck in air, to whisper something to each other, words that didn't quite register but words that were so important, words they both needed to say and to hear respectively. Declarations of love and need and loss and joy.

Qui-Gon's hand had strayed down his back towards his backside, pulling him more forcefully to him and it was but now that Obi-Wan became aware that he was clinging to Qui-Gon's taller frame, that Qui- Gon had bent his knees a bit, that he was grinding his groin against the hardness he found under the rough cloth of Qui-Gon's trousers. He moaned, breaking free from the kiss, sucking in air, allowing himself to open his eyes. Qui-Gon's eyes were dark, darker than the night sky, and he shivered. The drop of blood had been smeared over his upper lip and cheek and he leaned in, licking it away, a taste of copper and salt. Qui-Gon let out a hitched breath, and he trailed his tongue down his lover's cheek, stopping at an earlobe, trailing the rim of it, then dropped his head to Qui-Gon's shoulder, licking and sucking on every part of skin he could reach with his mouth. He wanted to mark each and every one of those places, wanted to draw blood to the surface and bruise the skin, marking the fact that he had already tasted the spot so he could go on and taste the next one. He wanted to claim every single cell, drown in the taste and smell of Qui-Gon, bury himself in him and never surface again.

It was Qui-Gon who suddenly pushed him away, softly, but determined. In an instance the feeling had changed and when he looked into the mirror, it was not only his blood-smeared, flushed face he saw there, but Tahl, who looked at him, open hostility in her gaze and something else, something he had seen in his own face so often in the past: Pain.

Qui-Gon stumbled out of the fresher, past Tahl, past people milling around in the crowded hall, past the congratulators and the ill wishers, blindly, numbly, until he passed through the door to the fighters' locker room. He leaned against the wall next to the door and slowly sank down to the floor. He buried his head in his hands and tried to calm his breathing, his pounding heart and his loudly screaming emotions.

He closed his eyes, but all he could think of were fingers running over his tattoo, the heat of hands and mouth all over him, whispered endearments against his skin.

A sob escaped him. Oh, how he'd missed that, how he'd wanted it since he set eyes on Obi-Wan in that bar. He'd fantasised about what had just happened a thousand times, and he'd gotten some of it precisely right. How Obi-Wan would taste. What noises he would make. How he would look, flushed and aroused, how he would feel, hot and hard against Qui-Gon.

What he hadn't fantasised about was how much it would hurt to stop. He'd seen Tahl and it had all come crashing down, how he could have this one moment only to have to give it all up again for a woman he didn't want. Tahl was a good person, she was kind and steady and warm, but she could never be what he wanted, craved. She could never be his Obi-Wan, who was in all things Tahl's opposite, fire to her water, storm to her steadiness, but Qui-Gon had learned to need the storm, had come to want to burn, but he knew he couldn't, not now, not ever and very soon, Obi-Wan would leave again, and it would hurt them both even more because of the small taste of what they could never truly have again.

Qui-Gon had heard a Jawa legend of a man who had gotten lost in the Dune Sea and had almost died of thirst. A vengeful god had found him and placed a single drop of water on the man's upper lip. The man had lost his mind and spent the rest of his life wandering the desert, looking for another drop. Well, Qui-Gon had been denied his water for what seemed to be an eternity, and he now understood the man in the story. One drop was worse than none at all.

He took a shuddering breath and recited the litany for serenity in his mind, trying to calm himself down a bit. The door creaked and he looked up, seeing Tahl stand at the door. "Are you all right?" she asked, concern, anger and badly hidden pain warring on her face.

He shook his head. "No. I'm not all right. I'm not sure if I'll ever be all right again. Thanks for asking."

"Sorry," she answered, taken aback.

He sighed. He didn't have any patience for her now. "Tahl, will you please leave me alone for a few minutes?"

She nodded, though she was clearly hurt, and withdrew.

Qui-Gon let his head drop against the wall behind him. Damn. He was so tired, so bloody exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally. He only wanted to rest and preferably never wake up again.

He sat on the floor for a long time, concentrating on his breathing, clearing his heart and his mind until he was somewhat calm again. He knew he couldn't put off facing the world forever, though he would have liked to. Maybe Master Rob had been right when he suggested hermitage as a good way of living for a Jedi.

Qui-Gon sighed heavily and wiped at his face, cleaning it as well as he could of blood and sweat and tears and the wetness on his lips that was all Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan..." he whispered the name like a prayer, a talisman. Please, Force, do not take him away again. Do something, do anything, but please, please, let us stay together. The preposterous impossibility of his wish almost made him laugh, but it came out as a strangled sob.

No. He could not allow himself such thoughts. He did not want to think at all right now. Concentrating, he once again released his emotions into the Force, at least as well as he could.

Considerably calmer, he made his way outside again, towards the ring, where the organisers were waiting to hand over his prize money.

He stepped out into the main hall of the palace and saw Obi-Wan standing near the door, leaning against a wall just as he had, eyes closed, breathing ragged. He went over to him and cleared his throat.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and met Qui-Gon's. He looked stricken, pale, as confused as Qui-Gon felt. He pinched his lips like he always did when he was insecure and whispered, "I'm sorry, Quiggs, I shouldn't have done that, it was stupid..."

Qui-Gon stopped him with a gentle finger on his lips. "Don't apologise, I wanted it just as much as you did. But you're right, it wasn't very smart. We don't have much time together and I think it will be easier for both of us if we try to keep a bit of distance."

Obi-Wan nodded. "You're right." They both glanced to the floor, unsure how to proceed.

"I got the money for the hyper drive. Thank you for saving my mission," Obi-Wan said at last.

"You're welcome. What about Anakin?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't have enough money to free him now. I'll come back after the mission and pick him up, even if I have a really bad feeling about leaving him here."

Qui-Gon looked up. "I know. I feel it too. There's something between you and this boy. A connection. The Force resonates with it."

"I know. I felt it as soon as I saw him. He's important for some reason."

Qui-Gon frowned, lost in thought. "Wait here." Galvanised into action, he strode over to the organiser, who was standing at the far end of the hall, chatting with Qui-Gon's opponent, who was on his feet again, but covered in bacta. Qui-Gon approached him and received his prize money. The crowd had dispersed now that the violence was over and was now busy consolidating their wins or losses on Gardulla the Hutt's gambling tables. The organiser handed over the credits and proceeded to ignore Qui-Gon to chat with Qui-Gon's former opponent again.

Qui-Gon grunted his thanks and turned away, striding back to Obi-Wan. He looked at the credit chip. It was more money than he'd ever owned, more than enough to serve their purposes. Out of nowhere it seemed, Tahl appeared and fell into step with him. "How much is it?" she asked, excited.

Qui-Gon told her.

Her green-gold striped eyes went huge. "Oh gods! We could buy the new vaporisers! The new self-cleaning models! We could cut back on droids then and maybe even expand next year, we could..."

"I'm giving the money to Obi-Wan."

Tahl froze mid-stride. "What?"

Qui-Gon stopped and turned to her. "He needs the money to free Anakin. There's something special about this boy, I can feel it. He has to go with Obi-Wan when he leaves."

Tahl's jaw worked, but no words came out. She swallowed and took a deep breath before speaking, much more calmly than Qui-Gon had feared, "Qui-Gon, I'm not saying you shouldn't give him the money if he really needs it to free the boy. Force knows, the boy deserves freedom. I'm only questioning your motives here. You're only considering freeing the boy because Obi-Wan asked you."

Qui-Gon scowled. "He didn't ask me to do it. It's my decision, and mine alone. He never asked me for anything."

She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face in frustration. "Qui- Gon, this money could do so much for our future. There are so many slaves and we can't free them all. We have to think about our future here. Moisture farming isn't exactly a hazardless profession. I would love to help Ani, but we really do need this money."

"I'm sorry, but my mind is made up. I'll give the money to Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered, his tiredness bleeding into his voice. "It's important that he frees Anakin."

Tahl's expression hardened. "Of course it's important," she almost spat. "He will always be more important than me. You will always choose him over me."

Qui-Gon almost laughed. "Choose? I never had any bloody choice!" he almost yelled. Her face fell and he regretted his words immediately. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just so tired."

She looked at him sadly. "It doesn't matter that you said it. I knew all along that you felt it. Believe me, this isn't what I would have chosen. For any of us."

He glanced over to Obi-Wan, who was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in a mirror of Qui-Gon's earlier position, then looked back at Tahl. "Me neither. We'll just have to make the best out of it."

She nodded. "You're right. Go on, give him the money. I don't see any reason why the boy should suffer as well."

Qui-Gon smiled at her warmly. "Thank you."

She shrugged and gestured for him to go on.

He reached Obi-Wan, who still looked pale, but a lot calmer, and was watching him with weary eyes as he came closer and sat down next to him on the floor. "What was that all about?"

"Tahl and I had a little misunderstanding about what to do with my prize money."

Obi-Wan smiled wearily. "And what are you going to do with it?"

Qui-Gon took his hand, placed the credit chip into the palm and closed his fingers around it. "We're going to free Anakin."

Obi-Wan looked at the credit chip, then at Qui-Gon, stunned. "I... I can't accept this, Quiggs. It's too much. You fought for it, it's yours. I'll find another way to free Anakin."

"Take it, Ben, please. I want to do this for you." Qui-Gon looked down. "I need to do this for you. I walked out on you without saying goodbye, I left you without a sign of life for almost a year, I left so much unsaid and undone between us. Please let me do this for you now, let me help you while I still can, at least until you must continue alone again."

A single tear slipped down Obi-Wan's face. "I'm sorry, Quiggs," he whispered. "Believe me, you owe me nothing, and you never will."

Qui-Gon shook his head and wiped the tear from Obi-Wan's face. "This isn't about owing you anything. It's about helping and supporting each other. Weren't we always there for each other, no matter what? Nightmares or philosophy papers, shoulder to cry on or rock to cling to, we were always there for each other, and I want to be there for you now. I need to be. I wasn't there for the last year, and it drove me crazy that I couldn't help you and it will continue to do so when you go away again and I can't take care of you anymore. So please let me do this for you now."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, overwhelmed by emotion and memory. "Quiggs..." he whispered and leaned his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I know," Qui-Gon whispered, equally as quiet.

Together they sat for a long time, until the night was almost day again.

At noon the next day the little group, consisting of Padme, R2D2, Anakin, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Tahl made their way to the outskirts of Mos Espa where the Nubian spaceship was waiting for them. Obi-Wan was tired, he hadn't slept a bit. With a quick comm-call he had arranged for one of the Queen's men to pick up the hyper drive at Watto's the very night. The Toydarian had raised but an eyebrow at the late call. His greedy character had apparently not minded being roused from sleep.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had spent the night at Gardulla's palace, oblivious to the party that had been thrown around them, sitting quietly side by side. Tahl had left early, heading to the hotel where Qui-Gon had arranged a room for them earlier the other day. She hadn't said goodbye, it was obvious she was deeply hurt. Qui-Gon hadn't tried to hold her back and Obi-Wan simply couldn't bring himself to care what she did, as long as she left him alone with Qui- Gon.

They hadn't talked a lot. The outburst of passion in the bathroom had shocked them both to the core and each of them dealt with it in his own way. For Obi-Wan it had been enough to feel Qui-Gon's steady, reassuring presence next to him and he had reached out, drawing the other's hand into his own. He didn't know what to say, numb now he knew he had to leave Qui-Gon again. The approaching reality of saying goodbye hung over them and neither of them wanted to address it, as if not speaking of it would make it less real. Quietly, they talked about their friends at the temple, filled each other in on casual things in their lives, leaving out everything that came too close to the things they were really feeling.

At dawn they had made their way to the slave quarters where Anakin lived to pick up Padme, R2D2 and the boy. After a long talk with Shmi Skywalker, with reassurance from Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan and the Order would take good care of the boy, she had finally given in, knowing it was the only chance for her son to be free of slavery. Anakin had cried a lot when they told him that they wanted to take him with them, although the prospect of being trained as a Jedi excited him immensely. They had left Anakin with his mother to spend the last few hours together and then had made their way to Watto's junkyard. At first, the Toydarian had refused to sell Anakin, telling them he had no intention to sell his pod racer at any price, but he hadn't been able to refuse the offer they had made. His greedy, small eyes had flickered nervously over the amount of money Qui-Gon had counted down in front of his eyes. He'd given in at last.

After the successful bargain, their ways had parted, but they had promised to meet each other at noon. Qui-Gon had insisted on accompanying the small group to the spaceship, saying that if this was their final goodbye, he would at least make it a good one.

Now they stood in the endless dune sea near the open ramp of the Nubian and the time had come to say their farewells. Tahl was making conversation with Padme a few feet away, surprisingly leaving Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to themselves.

"So, this is it," Qui-Gon said, drawing circles into the scalding hot sand with his toe.

"I guess."

Obi-Wan looked up, trying for a smile, but failing. He had found again what he had craved for only to see it ripped away from him again.

"I'm sorry for walking out on you the last time without saying goodbye."

"I wouldn't have let you go."

"I know."

It hurt Obi-Wan to look at Qui-Gon, but he did so nonetheless, not knowing when and where they would meet again, if ever. They had once again stolen a few precious moments from the Fates for themselves and once again, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

He reached into his robes and pulled out something, turning it over in his hands, his fingers skimming over the smooth surface, stroking it.

"I want to give it back to you."

Qui-Gon swallowed, staring at the stone on Obi-Wan's palm. They both knew what it meant. The stone held a promise, a promise they would most likely never be able to deliver. Giving it back would free Qui- Gon from the promise he'd made so long ago.

"No."

Obi-Wan frowned, still holding out his hand, almost thrusting it into Qui-Gon's face. "You have to let go, Quiggs. You have to take care of her now..." he nodded his head into Tahl's direction.

Qui-Gon reached out for the stone, but instead of taking the river stone out of Obi-Wan's hand, he closed Obi-Wan's finger over the stone, and on top of them he laid his own.

"I want you to keep it. It's still my pledge to you and it still holds this promise."

Obi-Wan looked up, a lump building in his throat as he took in Qui- Gon's serious expression.

"I gave you my word and I refuse to take it back..."

"But Quiggs, I..."

Qui-Gon frowned, a flicker of pain washing over his face and he drew his hand back, letting it fall limply to his side.

"I understand. You don't want my promise anymore."

"No!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, then reached for Qui-Gon's hand, bringing it to rest on his chest over the place where his heart lay. With the other hand he slipped the river stone back into the folds of his tunic.

"I want that promise. More than anything. It's everything I have."

The pained look on Qui-Gon's face vanished slowly until he was almost smiling. He leaned forward, placing his mouth next to Obi-Wan's ear, his whispered words a caress. "I will life bond with you, my Ben."

The words brought tears to Obi-Wan's eyes as he was reminded of a night so long ago and he raised his hand to wipe at his burning eyes, trying to regain control. He felt like breaking down crying, but he couldn't. Instead he flung his arms around Qui-Gon's neck, not caring what Tahl thought, or Padme, or Anakin, or Yoda, who was most probably watching from the ship. "I will... I will," he whispered into the folds of Qui-Gon's poncho, renewing the promise he had given that night over and over again.

Slowly, Qui-Gon extracted himself from Obi-Wan's arms, smiling. "You have to go now. It's not a farewell, Ben. It's a good bye, a see you."

Obi-Wan nodded, brushing his hands once more over Qui-Gon's chest, then slowly drawing back his fingers. It physically hurt to do so, but somehow he managed.

"See you." His voice sounded broken. He took a step back, then another, not able to pivot and turn his back yet on Qui-Gon, when he saw something out of the corner of his eyes. With a warning shout and Jedi reflexes, he reached for his lightsabre.

"Qui-Gon, to your left!"

Everything went too fast then. He threw the lightsabre, Qui-Gon caught and ignited it in a flash of light and whirled around, managing to block the blow of a red double bladed lightsabre that was directed at him.

"Ben, take the girls and run!"

Obi-Wan hesitated only for a moment. He could do nothing, only make sure that Tahl and Padme were safe. He thanked whatever deity had made him send Anakin into the ship earlier.

He reached the two girls, who were standing frozen in place, both their mouths open in shock, then spared a small glance at Qui-Gon, who was defending himself as best he could, not attacking, only parrying the blows and slashes directed at him, trying to keep his attacker, a black-clad Zabrakian, away from the ship.

"Tahl, Padme. Get in!"

He gave them both a shove, then leapt onto the ship's platform himself, taking a look back again to make sure Qui-Gon was all right so far. Qui-Gon was leaping and somersaulting, evading the Zabrakian's forceful attacks like he had never ceased to wield a lightsabre. Captain Panaka, the Queen's bodyguard and first in command, stretched out his hand, pulling Obi-Wan inside.

"Start the engines!"

"No! You can't leave him out there with that... thing!"

It was Tahl who had spoken and for a moment, Obi-Wan was surprised. He had been about to say something similar, but of course he knew Panaka only did his job protecting the Queen.

"We'll try to pick him up once we're in the air," Obi-Wan said, reaching out to Tahl to lay a hand on her shoulder, wishing to comfort her, but she shrugged him off with a scalding glance.

He didn't have time to deal with her anyway. Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was important now. He entered the cockpit just as the engines shuddered and they started to take off.

"Over there!" he said, pointing out the front shield to where Qui-Gon was still battling with the Zabrakian, slowly but efficiently being driven back.

Thankfully, the pilot did what he was told. Obi-Wan had no time to argue with him.

"Lower now, a bit lower. Open the ramp."

When he saw that all his orders were followed, he raced back to the ramp, arriving just in time to reach out and pull Qui-Gon in. They tumbled back and to the ground, falling over each other in a tangle of limbs as the Nubian shuddered and rose higher.

"Qui-Gon! Quiggs! Are you alright?"

Automatically, he reached out, turning the other man who had come to lie on his stomach around, scanning his body for injuries with his eyes. A small groan answered him, then Qui-Gon started to curse, a Dagobese word he had learned from Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan knew he was all right.

Relief washed over him like the brush of a comforting hand and he sighed.

"Oh Force, I'm so glad you're okay!"

Qui-Gon grunted, managing to lift himself up. "I knew why I should have kept up all the exercise. Easily out of breath these days."

Obi-Wan couldn't help but grin and a lewd remark wanted to fly from his lips, but he contained himself at the last possible moment. The truth was still that they had to say goodbye. Sooner or later, it really didn't make a difference, did it?

The familiar clatter of a gimer stick made him raise his eyes.

"See you brought a friend, did you, hmm?"

Wiping his hair from his face, Qui-Gon sat up until he was eye-level with the ancient Jedi Master.

"Master Yoda," he said respectfully, inclining his head.

"See you again brings warm feelings to my heart." The old Jedi Master leaned on his gimer stick more heavily, looking at Qui-Gon's face with friendly scrutiny.

"Scruffier, you are," he observed with squinted eyes, "...a farmer. Not a Jedi anymore."

Qui-Gon averted his eyes at this, studying the floor next to him.

"But fought like a Jedi, you did."

Obi-Wan's heart leapt at the blush that rose in Qui-Gon's face. Yoda noticed the smile on his Padawan's face and turned to him, his eyes twinkling.

"Show Qui-Gon to the quarters, you will. Rest he needs now."

A smile tugged on Obi-Wan's lips, but he tried to give a stern impression. Leave it to Master Yoda to suggest the impossible.

"Yes Master."

In a short audience, the Queen had thanked both him and Qui-Gon respectively for their help and had apologised to Qui-Gon and Tahl for being forced to fly with them to Coruscant. Tahl hadn't been delighted at the prospect of spending the next hours in hyperspace on the Nubian and she had asked if they couldn't simply drop them off at their farm. But the course was already set and they were several parsecs from Tatooine already. The Queen had calmed Tahl, promising her a free transport back as soon as possible.

Obi-Wan had shot a sideways glance at Qui-Gon at the Queen's words, and Qui-Gon had caught his gaze and had smiled. It looked as if they had several more hours to spend in each other's proximity.

Master Yoda had sent him an unmistakable message to meet him over their training bond, and after he had brought Qui-Gon and Tahl to the lounge of the Nubian, where they could relax and catch their breaths, he hurried to the small meeting room next to the cockpit, where Master Yoda already awaited him.

The tiny, wrinkled Jedi Master was standing at one of the windows, staring out into space, leaning on his omnipresent gimer stick. Obi- Wan waited patiently, knowing Master Yoda knew he was there.

"Unexpected this is, to see young Qui-Gon again," the Jedi Master said after some minutes of silence, then turned around, his scrutinising gaze resting on Obi-Wan's face.

"Yes, my Master."

It was useless to pretend that he had casual feelings about meeting Qui-Gon again.

"Overstepped your boundaries, you have," the old Jedi Master continued, his left ear dropping.

Obi-Wan blinked, not knowing what to say. "Master, I... Qui-Gon... we met accidentally and..."

"Shhh." Yoda waved a hand and Obi-Wan immediately stopped apologising. He drew a calming breath and tried to recollect himself, despite the many questions that had popped up inside his head.

"Not talking about Qui-Gon, I am. Talking about the child. Anakin Skywalker."

Oh. Obi-Wan swallowed. With all the excitement of the last two days, he had completely forgotten to tell Master Yoda about Anakin and he hadn't even consulted him in the matter, a grave omission and unbecoming for a Padawan learner.

"Great liberty you took, when bought Anakin Skywalker from slavery."

Master Yoda started to pace in front of him, four steps up, four steps down, the lines on his wrinkled face tightly drawn together in thought. Obi-Wan winced, knowing he had disappointed his Master and in fact, had even misused the trust Master Yoda had in him. He waited patiently for Yoda to stop his pacing; trying to think of what to say once the Master had finished his musings.

Finally, the Jedi Master stopped in front of him, resting his weight on his gimer stick.

"I'm sorry Master, for misusing your trust. I realise that not reporting to you was an omission, an omission not suitable for a Jedi apprentice. But there is something about the boy...," he stopped his explanations, then continued as he saw the approving look on his Master's face, "...you feel it also, don't you?"

Yoda picked up his pacing, not answering right away. When he stopped, a small smile played around his lips. "Feel it, I do. Strong he is in the Force."

"I couldn't leave him on Tatooine, Master. My intuition told me to take him with me, immediately. Anakin must be trained."

Yoda shook his head sadly. "Stubborn you are. Self-assured. Impatient. Much to learn, you have. Decide on the matter, the Council will. It's not yours to determine what happens to the boy."

Swallowing down his pride, Obi-Wan bowed briefly. "Yes Master. I understand."

Sighing, Yoda waved him closer, then indicated for Obi-Wan to sit down. While Yoda crawled onto a round, low cushion, he made himself comfortable in front of his Master, drawing his legs under his body.

"Master?" he asked when Yoda was seated, "...what was it Qui-Gon was battling?"

"Dark it was. Dark Force it used," the Jedi Master said mystically, stroking his finger over his chin.

Obi-Wan tried to appear calm on the outside, despite the fear that was suddenly settling in his guts. "Was it... a Sith?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

It was no use trying to get answers out of his Master when he wasn't willing to share his thoughts, so Obi-Wan changed the subject slightly.

"What will become of Qui-Gon?"

The Master didn't answer for a moment and Obi-Wan was almost afraid he had asked the wrong question.

"Happy to see him again, you are," Yoda observed and Obi-Wan tried his hardest not to blush.

"He was the only one who battled that thing... If the Zabrakian was there to kill the Queen, if he really is a Sith, we could use Qui-Gon on this mission. He's the only one who has recently encountered a Dark Force user, as far as I know, isn't he?" he blurted out in a rush of words, then bit down on his tongue hard.

Yoda chuckled, then tried to disguise his laughter as a cough. Obi- Wan didn't know what was so funny about a Sith attacking them, but he decided to talk no more. He had said enough. Maybe too much.

"So eager to have Qui-Gon with you, you are?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Obi-Wan didn't answer. He hated Master Yoda was making fun of him.

"In this matter, decide the Council shall, also..."

Obi-Wan already nodded, when Master Yoda continued, a twinkle in his eyes, "...but ask Qui-Gon I will and if he agrees, support your petition in front of the Council, I will."

Obi-Wan couldn't prevent the beaming smile that crept on his face. "Thank you. There is something else I wondered about, Master."

Yoda nodded, indicating Obi-Wan to ask his question.

"Now that Qui-Gon and I have met again, we are suddenly able to touch once more....... I didn't feel the force inhibition that seperated us the last time. How can that be?"

Yoda considered his answer for a long time. Then he said, "Not trying to lifebond you were..."

Obi-Wan nodded, frowning. Could that be the explanation? There had to be more...

"Not meant to be together, you were. Not meant to travel your path together. To fullfil your fate, each his own path must take. Forever merged, a lifebond would have your paths. Made sure, the Force has, that your own path you take by preventing you from forming a lifebond."

"I think I understand," Obi-Wan said, trying to keep the confusion he felt from his voice.

Looking gently at him, the Jedi Master waved a hand. "Now, hush, and bring Qui-Gon Jinn in front of me, you will."

"Yes Master. As you wish." He practically leapt to his feet, bowed deeply in front of the ancient Jedi Master and bolted out of the room, unbecoming his position as one of the Order's gravest apprentices.

Sighing and shaking his head, Master Yoda watched him leaving. The boy would need his strength. His future had begun.

Qui-Gon entered with some trepidation. He liked and respected Yoda as a wise and truly great Jedi Master, even if the ancient one's prophetic gifts had made his life more complicated in the past. But he admitted to himself with a sigh that the outcome would probably have been the same even without Yoda's warning, and he had been at least a bit prepared for the events of the last year by the ancient Master's words.

Yoda was standing by the window, looking out at the stars streaking by, only his slightly twitching ears gave indication that he was aware of Qui-Gon's presence.

Qui-Gon went down on one knee as was customary before the ancient one. He was dimly aware that he didn't have to follow the norms of behaviour anymore, since he was no longer a Padawan, but this wasn't any Jedi Master, it was Yoda, and even the most uncouth barbarian showed respect to Yoda automatically.

"Master," he said and bowed slightly. Then he fell silent, waiting for Yoda to acknowledge him. Decades of Jedi training and one year on a moisture farm had taught him patience enough, so he waited calmly for the ancient one to speak.

The small Master turned and looked at him, just looked at him with his ageless eyes. Qui-Gon held his gaze and felt at once more centred and completely fathomless under Yoda's eyes. At long last, the Master spoke. "Well, you look. Healthy."

"Thank you, Master."

"Missed, you are. Speak of you often, Master Windu does," Yoda said, his voice gentle and warm.

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said again, more softly this time. "I miss Master Windu as well. I miss my life with the Jedi. And..." he trailed off.

"Obi-Wan, you missed as well?"

Qui-Gon nodded. Caught. He'd forgotten the oldest rule when dealing with Yoda. Always finish your sentences; he knows what you wanted to say anyway. "Of course, Master." He hadn't wanted to discuss Obi-Wan with Yoda, the Master had been the first to speak against their relationship, after all. Though he had often wondered...

"Question, you have, Padawan Jinn?"

Qui-Gon flinched at being addressed as Padawan, but nevertheless he moved on. He met Yoda's searching gaze unflinchingly and asked a question that had burned on his tongue for five years. "Master, why did you allow it? You knew... you must have known that Obi-Wan and I were still seeing each other. Why did you never do anything to prevent him from seeing me? Had you forbidden him, he would have obeyed you."

Yoda sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hardest lesson for any Master to learn is when to let life teach the lessons. What he learned from you, from all this, taught him that I could not have. Prevent him from hurting, less important it was than the lessons he received. Hard for me it was to watch him get hurt, but necessary it was. Stronger he is. Need this strength, he will."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I think I understand, Master."

Yoda smiled. "Good. Grown stronger, you have as well. Wiser. Older in more ways than years. Proud of you I am. Learned to wait, you have. Learned to accept, not yet."

"It is one lesson I never wanted to learn, Master," he replied, quietly.

"Sometimes, what we do not wish to learn, most important lesson can it be. Sometimes, what we did not learn we do not need. Always in motion, the future is. Acceptance, necessary it might be. But lead to complacency, it should not. Wary be of your path, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon frowned. "I don't understand, Master. You once said my future was clear. Might I ask what you see now?"

Yoda closed his eyes, concentrating. "Clouded, your path has become. The Dark side I sense in your future. Careful be. Mindful of the Force. Lose hope, you should not."

"Dark side? Master, do you mean the being I fought earlier? The darkness was strong in it. I was afraid." Qui-Gon's voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

"Fear leads to the Dark side, Padawan. Release it into the Force you must. But yes, a creature of the Dark was the warrior you fought."

"Do you believe it could have been a..."

"Sith? Possible. Probable, even. Meditate on this, I will. Meditate on this, you should as well. When finished we both are, speak we will again." Yoda waved at the door with his gimer stick, a clear sign of dismissal.

Qui-Gon bowed and got to his feet. "Thank you, Master," he said fervently. He hadn't noticed how badly he had missed spiritual guidance over the last year, but Yoda's words had done him no end of good.

"Most welcome, you are. Now go find your peace, you should."

Qui-Gon bowed again and left the ancient one, who had already settled down on the floor, to his communion with the Force.

He stepped out into the corridor, contemplating meditation, but he relinquished the thought quickly as a small blur of energy crashed head-first into his legs. Anakin fell to the floor in a heap of giggles, panting out a breathless "Sorry..." between fits of laughter. His appearance was promptly followed by Obi-Wan, who came running around the corner, but had the reflexes and training to stop his run and so didn't crash into either of them. He immediately threw himself at Anakin, pinning the boy to the floor. "Got you!"

Anakin squirmed and gave a squeal when Obi-Wan tickled him. "Not fair! He got in the way!"

Obi-Wan stopped tickling Anakin and turned his head towards Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon grinned broadly, feeling warmth spreading through his body at Obi-Wan's eyes on him. "Well..." Obi-Wan's voice sounded contemplative. "Do you think he'd want to join in?" he asked Anakin in a stage whisper. Anakin giggled. "All right. We can play hide and seek."

Obi-Wan started to giggle as well, a sound that went straight into Qui-Gon's heart. "Come on, Anakin, playing hide and seek with Qui-Gon isn't such a challenge. I mean, look at him, he's just so tall."

Obi-Wan released Anakin and they both gave him a once-over, Anakin's eyes all wide innocence, Obi-Wan's a glittering pool of conflicting emotions Qui-Gon wasn't prepared to decipher. Instead, he grinned and said, "Catch me!" Then he broke into the fastest run he could manage without using Force-speed.

He was first chased by shouts of, "Not fair!" and "Cheat!", then by two pairs of feet pounding the floor behind him.

He ran around the corner and ran on, bursting through the doors of the mess hall, where Padme and Tahl were sitting close together in a corner. They'd obviously been in the middle of a serious conversation, which they interrupted as he barged into the room. He shot them a grin and panted, "Sorry!"

Both girls smiled, but Qui-Gon didn't have time to say anything more before he was tackled to the ground and tickled with a vengeance.

He squirmed and laughed, breathless, and finally managed to turn around and bear down on his attacker, who was of course Obi-Wan, a sweaty, out of breath, dishevelled Obi-Wan trapped under him, panting and flushed. Their eyes met and both of them stilled, harsh breath ghosting over too-close skin.

Qui-Gon swallowed and licked his lips, suddenly much warmer and much more aware of the lithe body pressed snugly against his, but he was fast distracted by two small knees digging into his back as Anakin jumped on top of him with a loud "Got you!"

Qui-Gon laughed and tried to shrug the boy off, thereby losing his grip on Obi-Wan, who wriggled himself free and bore down on Qui-Gon again with Anakin's help.

Things went downhill from there pretty quickly, and in the end all three of them lay on the floor, aching with too much laughter, exhausted, out of breath, but more relaxed than they'd been before.

Qui-Gon propped himself up on his elbows and looked over to the girls, who were still watching them. He met Tahl's eyes, who was gazing at him steadily with an unreadable expression. He looked away quickly, over to Padme, who was staring at Obi-Wan with badly hidden fascination. He followed her eyes and smiled. Can't blame you for liking what you see, he thought. Unruly hair, clothes in disarray, but a grin that could melt through durasteel. That was Obi-Wan Kenobi as Qui-Gon had fallen in love with him, the untameable imp, that enticing combination of a five-year-old's sense of fun in a body that was a breathing invitation to sample, taste, smell, take whatever gave pleasure.

Qui-Gon wrenched his eyes away when he saw Obi-Wan shift under and react to his gaze. Meditation. A better idea now than ever before. Meditation. And a shower. A cold shower.

The cargo bay wasn't very large, but at least the room was relatively empty and quiet except for the hum of the engines. Perfect for his meditation.

Qui-Gon settled down on his knees and wondered why he was uncomfortable and what the Sith was poking him into his thigh. He opened his eyes again to look and found to his surprise that Obi- Wan's lightsabre still hung from his belt. Chuckling at himself, he removed it. He hadn't realised it, but he'd automatically clipped the sabre to his belt, not thinking that it wasn't his.

He ran his hand over the smooth, cold metal. The weapon practically vibrated with Obi-Wan's Force signature, and he thought of the many hours he had spent constructing his own lightsabre, how much thought and effort and yes, love, had gone into the construction, and how hard it had been to surrender the weapon and all it stood for to the Council when he left the Order. He remembered the small scratch on the side of his lightsabre from when he'd dropped it on the debris- littered floor next to Master Rob's dead body. He recalled the thousands of times his hand had closed over the hilt of his weapon, the endless times he'd ignited it, in battle, in a training hall, sparring with both of his Masters, with Obi-Wan. He still remembered the day he'd picked his first lightsabre crystals as if it were yesterday, remembered the smile on Master Rob's face. He knew the weapon he held in his hand now was fraught with many memories of the same kind. A Jedi's lightsabre was a part of him, a symbol as much as a weapon, a privilege and a commitment. He'd left all that on Coruscant, had ended his life as a Jedi when he'd given up the right to his sabre.

The sabre in his hands seemed to call him, beckon him, and he couldn't resist the pull of the weapon any more than he had been able to resist its owner. His hands found the button automatically and the sabre hummed to life.

He knew this weapon, was familiar with it on a deep level, not only because he'd often stood facing it in the training halls, but because he knew the man who had built it better than any other human being in the galaxy. The glow of the sabre was familiar and warm through the blue light's cold ethereal beauty. The hum it produced was the sound of his home. He stood and did a few practice swings. The grip was a bit different than that of his own weapon, the hilt was shorter, but he'd known that would be the case. This was Obi-Wan's weapon, after all.

Automatically, without thinking, his body started to move with the sabre. First kata, first form. One-bladed sword dance. He closed his eyes and let himself dance with the weapon. Imagined it in the hand of his partner, parried imaginary blows, evaded familiar manoeuvres, let the weapon guide him through movements he'd seen its owner perform a hundred times in a hundred different battles.

The Force sang within him, whole and complete, not only the pulse of the Living Force, but the ageless clarity of the Unifying Force as well. How different, how wonderfully different from the sticks he'd used for practice on Tatooine, how far away from this he seemed to be now. He did not feel the aching of a missing limb. He was whole again. He was centred. He was home.

He came to a halt in the last position of the one-bladed sword dance, letting his awareness centre in his body once again. His senses told him he wasn't alone anymore only moments before he heard the familiar, warm voice. "Your muscle tone is good and your technique is perfect. Your balance is slightly off, though. Trained with sticks?"

Qui-Gon turned and smiled. "Exactly."

He powered down the sabre and offered it to Obi-Wan with one outstretched hand. "Sorry. I forgot to give it back. Old habits die hard. I hope you don't mind that I trained with it a bit."

Obi-Wan smiled back and shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just sorry you don't have your own sabre. We could spar a bit." He laid his hand over the sabre, but didn't take it, letting his fingers rest on Qui-Gon's while the sabre rested between their palms. Qui-Gon looked up at Obi-Wan, into eyes that reflected his own emotions back. Longing, uncertainty, confusion. Guilt. Fear. Obi-Wan looked away, down at their joined hands. "You were really good. When you fought with that creature, I mean."

Qui-Gon swallowed. "Thanks."

He paused and considered his next words carefully before he spoke, "Master Yoda said it's possible that the creature was a Sith."

Obi-Wan nodded. "He mentioned his suspicions to me as well."

Qui-Gon looked down at their hands still holding the lightsabre between them. "Do you think it was after the Queen?"

"Probably. Why?"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Well, if it was, maybe the creature will follow you to Naboo if you return there with the Queen. In that case it would be best if you had someone with you who already fought the creature. Don't you agree?"

Smiling in spite of himself, Obi-Wan looked up. "And did you have anyone specific in mind?"

"Well, since you've asked... and Naboo is right around the corner from Tatooine. So...," he smiled as he trailed off.

Serious again, Obi-Wan looked at him thoughtfully. "We're only putting off the inevitable, you know that, don't you?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Of course I do. But I know I can't face saying goodbye to you just yet."

"I know what you mean," Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes boring into Qui- Gon's as if he was looking for something. He tried to pull his hand away, but Qui-Gon held on tighter and pulled Obi-Wan close. He stared at Obi-Wan's lips in fascination and wanted to lean down to feel them under his own when a finger on his lips restrained him.

Obi-Wan swallowed audibly and whispered, "I have to tell you something."

Qui-Gon looked up and seeing Obi-Wan's expression of anxious apprehension, he knew it couldn't be anything good. Uncertain if he wanted to hear what Obi-Wan had to say, but unwilling to stop him from unburdening himself, he released Obi-Wan's hand and motioned over to a few boxes that contained the Queen's wardrobe. "Maybe we should sit down?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I think that would be better."

No, definitely not good. They went over to the boxes and sat down opposite of each other. Qui-Gon took a deep breath, hoping his stomach would settle down soon, and motioned for Obi-Wan to begin.

Obi-Wan sighed and looked down at his hands. "I... I'm not sure how to tell you. I didn't want to tell you at all, but it seems... wrong not to tell you, especially if..." he broke off and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe it's selfish to be telling you at all, but carrying on as if nothing had happened would feel like lying to you, and that's one thing I can't do."

Qui-Gon looked at him, apprehension settling in his entrails. "Obi- Wan, would you please just get it out, you're scaring the Sith out of me here."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and visibly centred himself. He locked eyes with Qui-Gon and said as calmly as he could, "While we were apart, I had sex with someone else."

It hurt Qui-Gon more than it had any right to do. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face as a storm broke loose in his head and heart, ratio and possessive jealousy fighting for supremacy. His Obi- Wan had given himself to someone else. Had broken their promise to wait for each other, to hold on to each other, to give only to each other. His Obi-Wan, his Ben, had betrayed him. Or had he? The whys of his decision aside, leaving without saying goodbye wasn't exactly a message inspiring hope. Not calling for the longest time hadn't encouraged confidence as well, he surmised. Could he really blame Obi-Wan for despairing of hope that they would be together again? In the end, it all came down to this, although he asked himself what difference it would make if he knew. "Who was it?"

Obi-Wan looked down, obviously ashamed. "Does it matter? Somebody. Anybody."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Did you at least know his name?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Probably wouldn't even recognise him if I met him now. It was only this once. I thought if I fucked someone else, it would at least mean I was still alive, that there was a chance that I might get over you, but afterwards I felt so dirty, so... wrong. I'm so sorry, Quiggs." His voice sounded despondent, defeated.

Qui-Gon sighed again, heavily. "Oh, Ben..."

Somehow, he found, it did make a difference. No hearts, just bodies. No love. Just sex. No broken promises. But he still felt the wordless, reasonless sting of jealousy, of spite. He had held back, had not given in to temptation, and Obi-Wan had just gone out and indulged himself with some nameless, faceless stranger. Unthinkable that someone else had touched what had been promised to him alone. But then again, what he'd had was Obi-Wan's heart, and his claim over that was still undisputed. That Obi-Wan felt obliged to tell him of this misstep was proof enough.

He reached out for Obi-Wan's hand and squeezed it. "I remember what Master Rob used to say about the Code. The mind is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Obi-Wan smiled mirthlessly. "If only..."

In spite of himself, Qui-Gon grinned. "Careful, Kenobi. You're still not out of deep waters."

Obi-Wan looked at him, serious once again. "I know. Thank you for listening."

Qui-Gon's smile softened. "Give me a bit to work through this?"

"Of course. I'll leave you alone now." He went to the door. "We should arrive in about three hours, by the way."

"Thank you."

Qui-Gon settled down on his knees.

"I'm sorry, Quiggs."

A nod. "I know."

The door swished shut behind Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon was alone.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and abandoned himself to the soothing touch of the Force. It had been such a long day.