Fear and Doubt

by Bonny ( BonnyMagret@hotmail.com )

Archive: Master_Apprentice

Category: Drama, Angst

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Obi/Qui; Obi/Other

Warnings: references to chan

Spoilers - none

Summary: After Qui-Gon's death, Obi-Wan doesn't adjust well to his new life; maybe Qui-Gon wasn't the great knight everyone thought he was.

Feedback: are you kidding? Of course!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Lucas thought these guys up, and owns them entirely. I am just trying to bring them to life off screen

Thanks: To Jedi Rita, who does a phenomenal beta, and who was willing to say the really hard things so that a good bunny didn't end up wasted on a poorly executed story, and whose patience and persistence made this come together. And who hates sentence fragments. All tweaking and errors are totally mine. Thanks to Inya for encouragement.

Obi-Wan had known this call would come. He knew it like he knew that someday he would die. It wasn't a question of 'if', merely a question of 'when.' And now was the 'when.'

For over a year, every time the comm unit signaled and the message was from Master Yoda, Obi-Wan feared to check the text of the message. Every time he was afraid he had finally been caught out, that all was going to come to light and he would be known by one and all for the fool and fake that he was. And up until last night, each of Master Yoda's messages had been innocuous, relatively insignificant: would he take over the astrophysics class for Master Fortranti for a few weeks; would he please see to it that Ani's homemade speeder was removed from the East Garden; would he join the Council at the banquet honoring the new Senators from Yttre Minor. And each time he would wipe the cold sweat from his brow and clench his arms to his sides to dry the trickles of sweat running down. Each time it would be a day or sometimes two before he could calm his stomach down enough to bring himself to eat.

As he walked along, Obi-Wan figured that it would be a few days before food would pass his lips again. If ever. Why couldn't his life be simple? Why couldn't he be living the life he had always thought would be his? His dreams on Bandomeer always included an idyllic existence if he could just manage to be chosen, if he could just manage to become a Jedi knight. Well, here he was. He was a Jedi knight. He was the master of a padawan. He was well respected in the Temple. But it was all a lie. Every bit of it. Nothing was as it appeared to be, least of all Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.

A small furry ball bounced off Obi-Wan's forehead. "Padawan! Stop!" he heard in a rich deep voice. He came to an immediate halt, probably out of instinct to obey any command issued to 'padawan' in a deep voice.

"Master Kenobi, please forgive my padawan." It was a robed Iktotchi master, trying to control a young Cerean padawan. "Che'ra," the master said. "Apologize to Master Kenobi for letting your katchi ball get free."

A katchi ball. That was what had hit him. The small furry objects were programmed to take glancing dive bombs at force-sensitives to train padawans to anticipate danger.

"My humble pardon," the small dome-headed padawan said humbly. "Please accept my apology, Master Kenobi."

"That's quite all right," Obi-Wan said in reply.

"Go catch your katchi before it goes after someone else, Che'ra," the master instructed. Turning to Obi-Wan, he said "Sorry, Master Kenobi. He's still new at this."

"My padawan is still new at this, too. No need to apologize," Obi- Wan said graciously. But he noted a look of concern cross the Iktotchi's face, a look he wanted to get away from before any more questions were asked. "Excuse me," he said, pulling his hood up and moving away down the corridor.

A katchi ball. One had hit him in the head. Any seasoned padawan would have deflected the ball without even consciously acknowledging it. Where was his attention, his focus? Where had all his old instincts fled to? Had it only been two years ago that his dreams started to get foggy? That his concentration had started to slip? The whole universe could change in a moment. He had trouble fathoming all the changes that the last two years had wrought.

Qui had died. His beloved Master. Gone into the Force. Had that only been almost two years ago? His grief was not the problem. Nor could he say that Anakin was the problem. A Jedi's goal was to maintain serenity. Where had his gone? These were familiar doubts and fears. He had relived these thoughts over and over these past months, trying to find a way out of this dilemma, but to no avail. There were no answers in the past. The answers were in the future, a future he wasn't sure he could bring himself to face.

Obi-Wan was grateful that the cloak of the Jedi spoke to other Jedi without the necessity of words. As long as his hood was pulled up over his head, no Jedi would intrude upon his private thoughts. He could walk the halls toward his destiny in peace. He did not need to smile and greet his fellows as he made his way to Master Yoda's quarters. He did not need to put on a false face of serenity for anyone. He could hide behind the dark brown homespun fabric. If only he could hide his mind and thoughts so easily.

There was such a comfort in the ordinary: the familiar halls of the Temple; the way his tunics, leggings and cloak clung to his body and molded themselves to his form; the feel of his lightsaber handle tapping against his thigh as he walked. At the moment, Obi-Wan Kenobi was glad of any measure of comfort he could find.

Only a few more steps left to Master Yoda's door. Even from a distance, Obi-Wan could feel the strength of the Force increase as he neared the great master's presence. Years ago, that would have given Obi-Wan a great deal of comfort. This day, it only served to increase his fear. Master Yoda was not alone. The strength of the Force was greater than even Yoda usually generated. Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks. If this was not a private meeting, then Yoda had called upon another to help him convince Obi-Wan. Of what? Of the need to send Anakin Skywalker away from the Temple and back to his mother?

The door slid open as he approached. Obi-Wan gathered his thoughts behind his shields, making sure that the only thing he would project was a sense of peace and serenity, and walked through the doorway.

"You called for me, Master," Obi-Wan said softly, as he bowed to the small green Master seated on a cushion in the center of the room. Master Yoda's quarters were furnished only in soft cushions and rugs. His hover chair sat in a corner near the door with his gimer stick leaning against it. The thought crossed Obi-Wan's mind that Master Yoda must have to choose which to accompany him each time he left his rooms.

Still conscious of another force signature that he had felt on his approach, Obi-Wan looked around the room. Master Yaddle, sitting on a cushion slightly behind but several feet to the side of Master Yoda. She was as small and green as Master Yoda. Although only half his age, she was still the second oldest member of the Council. She had been the Master called upon most often to discipline Obi-Wan during his years in the crèche. Was that why she was here? Would that it could be for nothing more than to discipline him for yet another youthful infraction.

"Seat yourself, you will," Master Yoda instructed. His voice was firm, but not unkind. "Know you the reason for this call?"

Obi-Wan took the opportunity to take his time sinking down onto a cushion in front of the venerable masters. He had anticipated this question, but knew that his answer needed to appear calm and unconcerned. "I presume it is to discuss Anakin's progress," he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Yes. In a manner of speaking." Yoda turned to Master Yaddle and nodded.

"Concerned we are," she said.

A silence descended upon the room. Obi-Wan knew that they were waiting for him to fill the void, but he had determined that the less he said, the better off he would be. He could allow the silence to continue until he was called upon to answer a direct question.

With a sigh, Yoda continued, "About you and your master."

Obi-Wan was taken aback. That was the last thing he expected to be called to this informal meeting to discuss. Qui-Gon was long since dead, and his importance to the living was limited to himself and his padawan. "Master Jinn?" Obi-Wan could hear the rusty creak in his own voice and immediately regretted opening his mouth.

"Hmmmm." Yoda nodded. Master Yaddle nodded. And the silence lengthened again.

"Without him, you are. In his absence, you fare poorly." Master Yaddle leaned forward on her cushion. "Your unhappiness, I sense strongly."

Obi-Wan didn't think of himself as being unhappy. He simply didn't think of himself as being happy either. Whether he was happy or unhappy was irrelevant to his obligations so he didn't let himself consider it one way or the other. But apparently, he was perceived by others as being unhappy. Well, that probably wasn't totally wrong.

Obi-Wan startled to attention. Had someone cleared their throat? Had his mind been drifting? His eyes had been closed. Obi-Wan tested his vocal cords with his internal sensors and loosened them just a little. "I am well," he said, pleased that his voice sounded relatively normal to his own ears.

"Hmmmmm. Illness concerned us not," Master Yoda interjected.

Obi-Wan tried to sit up a little straighter on his cushion. It wasn't easy to try to look dignified when you were sitting cross- legged on the floor. This position made maintaining his composure even more difficult. Yoda's statement was not a question, so Obi-Wan chose to maintain his silence, waiting for whatever was to come next.

"Know about you, we do." This from Master Yaddle.

Since Obi-Wan wasn't sure what it was that Master Yaddle thought she knew, he thought it best to avoid a direct response and only nodded his head in her direction respectfully. Master Yaddle rose from her cushion and came forward. Standing beside the seated Obi-Wan, she still did not come as high as his shoulder. The strength of the Force she projected amazed him. When she rested a little green hand on his knee, the heat blazed through his body and pushed itself into his mind. Was she searching him? Without asking his permission! This was unacceptable.

As quickly as the heat had touched his thoughts, it receded, leaving behind a sense of the presence of the Force. Not a probe at all; just a gesture of comfort. The little green head just nodded, and the ears drooped a little, as she shuffled back to her cushion. Master Yoda nodded, too.

Perhaps it was time for Obi-Wan to take an offensive stance here. "I don't see what my former master has to do with my happiness, or why that is relevant to Anakin's progress," he said, in as firm a voice as he could.

Master Yoda started to shake his head slowly. Master Yaddle followed, almost synchronized.

"A padawan can only learn what his master has to teach," Master Yaddle said.

"Hmmm," Yoda agreed. "What the master's master taught."

"Teach Anakin what you learned from Master Jinn?" Yaddle asked.

"About what?" Obi-Wan countered.

"The Code of the Jedi? Honour? Loyalty?" There was a pregnant pause. "Love?" Yoda asked, closing his eyes and lowering his chin.

Obi-Wan was taken aback by this comment. "What about love?" he asked, trying not to sound defensive.

"Between a Master and his Padawan," Yaddle said softly. She also seemed to be slipping into a meditation posture.

Were they talking about love between himself and Qui-Gon or between him and Anakin? And what kind of love? Physical? Emotional? Again, Obi-Wan was given an opportunity to not respond. This wasn't a question, and it didn't require an answer. He would just wait until they made sense and asked a question he could answer.

Once again, the silence lengthened, and a sense of tension that Obi- Wan hadn't realized had been present began to dissipate from the gathering. The silence was almost intoxicating. It was safe. It didn't challenge him. It didn't criticize him, or mock him, or belittle him. It just enveloped him, like the sense of peace that he used to feel as he sank into his meditations.

Peace. A state of being that was becoming more and more difficult to attain. Ever since Qui-Gon had died, and the fears and doubts began, Obi-Wan had not been able to use the meditation skills to either gain insight into his problems or relief from his terror that the Temple would recognize him for the fraud he was. When could he last remember feeling truly at peace? In his lover's arms? But that was not a thought he could allow himself to dwell on, especially not here with Masters Yoda and Yaddle attentive to the least ripple in his Force signature. Obi-Wan dragged his mind back into the moment.

"Speaks to you, does he?" Yaddle asked, as if there had not been a minute's pause in the conversation.

Obi-Wan was getting confused. He could not risk that. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Master Jinn." She spoke very softly. Obi-Wan almost had to strain his ears to catch the words.

"Master Jinn? Speak to me?" Was this a trick question? What were they expecting him to say? What was the right answer?

The two green creatures nodded together.

"Does he? Now? Of course not. Were you expecting that he would?" He allowed just a little of a sneer to slide across his face. "He's been dead for almost two years."

"Unusual it is not for former lovers to. If love is true, the Force permits."

Obi-Wan panicked for a moment. Did they think that if Qui-Gon had truly loved him he would have spoken to him from beyond death? Was that really possible when the two had never been bonded? Just because they loved one another? If so, then why hadn't he ever heard anything? Or even felt his master's presence?

No. No one knew that he and Qui-Gon had been lovers. No one. He was certain that Qui-Gon had maintained the secret. He was equally sure that he had, too. They didn't know. They were using this as a way to find out if what they suspected was true. They weren't going to find out from him without a full fledged mind probe and he was sure that they didn't want to go that far. But could he go so far as to deny his love?

"I loved him, but all padawans love their masters. I'm sure that he loved me the same way." Obi-Wan hoped that that statement would suffice.

Yoda sighed. Yaddle sighed.

"Ready, you are not." Yoda looked up. "When ready you are, here we will be." The little green-gold eyes narrowed and the ears pulled forward tightly. "And come that time will. Hear me, hmmm?"

"Yes, Master."

Master Yaddle stood again and approached Obi-Wan. He was afraid that she would touch him again, and he tried to brace himself to not react or pull back from that touch. But she didn't reach out. Instead, she sat down beside him on an adjacent cushion and held her hands, palm upward on her crossed knees.

"Seek you no one else to love?" she asked. When Obi-Wan started to answer, she waived a hand in the air commanding silence. "Two possible meanings that has. True love you shared and another you do not wish to seek." She paused, as if to let that sink in. "Or true love you did not share, and another you cannot bring yourself to accept."

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes to the floor in front of his knees. His hands were trembling, so he tucked them deep into the folds of his sleeves.

"I know that he loved me." He heard the words on his own lips almost before the thought formed in his mind.

Always cryptic, Yoda said, "Many kinds of love there are. Confusing it often is. But sort this out on your own you must if our help you will not accept. When ready, to your master's master you will come?" He looked so sad, almost forlorn, sitting alone on his cushion. Obi-Wan felt the waves of sympathy flow from him.

Sympathy! They felt sorry for him! How dare they? How dare they pity him?

Anger. They wanted him to react with anger because they knew that they could read his anger where they could not read his mind without a probe. He couldn't release the emotion; they would feel that, too. He had to suppress it, push it behind his shields. He closed his eyes tightly and forced his jaw to relax, to stop his teeth from clenching. He pinched the other forearm under his cloak sleeves hard. The pain helped him to center himself and to organize his thoughts without emotion. With serenity. He felt the muscles of his face compose themselves. He was getting really good at this; he had had enough practice.

He needed to give them back the question. Answer a question with a question: Jedi negotiation tactics learned early in his training. "Do you think that there is a problem because Qui-Gon does not speak to me from beyond the Force?"

"Answer that question you must, for yourself," Master Yaddle said. "When ready you are. Time you must devote to this in meditation."

Again, this was not a question and did not demand an answer. Again a silence lengthened in the room. This conversation was not going anywhere at all.

"I have my padawan to train," Obi-Wan said, respectfully, bowing his head to both masters. "If I may be excused."

"Yes. Your padawan." Master Yoda sounded thoughtful. "Qui-Gon Jinn's Chosen One."

"My master believed the boy would bring balance." Obi-Wan replied as he rose from his cushion.

He was almost to the door when he heard to soft voice of Master Yaddle behind him. "But at what cost, Knight Kenobi? To you? To the Jedi Order? Was Master Jinn never . . ."

But Obi-Wan was already out the door and beyond the range of her voice before she finished. He would train Ani. Ani would be a great Jedi warrior. He owed that to the man who had saved him from obscurity. He owed it to the man who had taught him everything he knew; how to fight, how to live, how to give and receive physical love; how to be a man; how to be a Jedi knight. He owed Qui-Gon everything that he was. He owed this to his Master. If there was one thing that Obi-Wan knew how to do, it was to fulfill his promises. At all costs.

Quickly, Obi-Wan made his way to the practice hall. He knew Anakin would be in class with Master Zrott, who had kindly agreed to give private classes to Anakin so that he would not be embarrassed in front of his age mates until he was at a similar skill level.

Ani bowed to his instructor, then came over to stand beside his master. "How are you doing, Ani?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin only shrugged noncommittally.

"He's getting remarkably good at the aerial maneuvers," the red-faced Master Zrott reported. Ani beamed. "He's still not quite so good on the ground movements," the instructor said. Ani's face fell, not into an _expression of disappointment, but into an _expression of anger, while he swung his saber handle sharply against his thigh. Quickly, Master Zrott added "But I expect only a few more months of private classes and he will be at a skill level to join the regular padawan class for his age."

Obi-Wan was not oblivious to the undercurrent in Master Zrott's quick reaction to Ani's anger, but he felt it better not to comment at this time. Bowing deeply, Obi-Wan said, "We are grateful to you for your assistance, Master." Then, turning to his padawan, "Get your things. We need to let Master Zrott get back to his other duties."

Ani turned the glare on his master. "But I want to. . . "

"Padawan," Obi-Wan interrupted. "I said get your things."

Master Zrott made a hasty exit. Ani knew when not to cross his master. He picked up his pack and came back to his master's side.

Obi-Wan made his way swiftly through the corridors, his padawan one step behind and beside him. He could feel the frustration of his padawan through their bond, but he had no intention of acknowledging it in public.

Palming open their quarters' door, Obi-Wan instructed Ani to put his things in his room and return. "We need to talk."

"I need a shower first, Master," Anakin answered, heading away.

Obi-Wan sank down onto the couch. How much worse could this day get? First a conference with Yoda and now his padawan was being moody.

Anakin might maintain a façade of the good little padawan, but Obi- Wan knew that the boy cried himself to sleep almost every night, crying out for his mother. His daydreams were filled with ways to save her from her slavery on Tatooine.

"Master?"

Once again, Obi-Wan was startled out of his reverie. This was getting to be a bad habit. His master had taught him to live in the moment, and that required attention, not day dreaming.

"Anakin. Please have a seat." Obi-Wan indicated the chair across from him, but Anakin crossed around the coffee table and sat down on the other end of the sofa.

"You wanted to see me, Master?" Anakin looked all innocence, his hair still wet and spiky from his shower, his informal sleep pants and undertunic damp where he had been in a hurry to dress before drying thoroughly.

"Anakin. I have been to see Master Yoda today." Anakin nodded. "He and Master Yaddle. They are concerned about your training."

Anakin turned quickly, scowling. "Is there a problem? Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Anakin. At least I don't think so. I do think, however, that you are not projecting a proper image here."

A frown started creasing Anakin's forehead. "Image of what, Master?"

"Your anger today with Master Zrott. I assume that you think you are making better progress than he reported. If you disagreed with his assessment of your skills, you should come speak to me in private. It is not appropriate for you to react in anger in the middle of my conversation with him."

"Well, he's wrong." Anakin said firmly.

"Right or wrong, it is not proper for a padawan to display his emotions that way; to let people see what he is feeling."

"Oh, so I'm not supposed to be honest? I thought that was part of the Code. To be honest." Obi-Wan could hear the touch of sarcasm in his padawan's words.

"There is a difference between being honest and not sharing. If you are not asked to express your emotions, it is not proper for you to do so. You should maintain the appearance of being calm and accepting of all things. A Jedi must be serene and at peace."

"Even when I am anything but at *peace*," Anakin's voice was dripping sarcasm now.

"Yes. It is even more important when you are distressed. That is why I have instructed you to release your anger and frustrations into the Force; to center yourself and dissipate those feelings. To fail to do so leads to the dark side."

"Well, what if I have more feelings that I can let go of? What am I supposed to do then? Just stand there and let Master Zrott tell you something that's not true?" Anakin spat out.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice was sharp to draw his padawan's attention back to center. "It is your job to show respect to your masters at all times. That is why we practice the meditation techniques, over and over. So that you will improve your ability to handle these emotions. That's why I sent you out into the Temple gardens - to practice on your own. But instead you used the time to build a speeder." It was all Obi-Wan could do not to remind the boy that he had been prohibited from doing that in the first place.

"You need to devote much more time to these techniques. The more practiced you are, the easier it will be. Just like with the light saber drills and the katas. You must practice to develop the skills until it is like instinct and conscious thought isn't required." Obi- Wan could feel the waves of anger coming off his padawan. The boy did not take criticism well at all.

After his meeting with Master Yoda, Obi-Wan just didn't feel like pursuing the topic with Anakin at the moment. "Come," Obi-Wan said holding his hand out to Ani, hoping that the conciliatory gesture would keep the discussion from degenerating into an argument. "Let's go out on the balcony and let the sun warm our faces as we meditate. Let me help you through our bond. You can project your emotions and I can show you how to release them."

Anakin was clearly unwilling to let go of the argument, but he also knew when he needed to obey without protest. He accepted the hand reluctantly, and they rose from the couch.

The comm unit beeped. Anakin released his master's hand and headed for the corner. "Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly, "that can wait."

"Just a minute, master. It might be important."

"Nothing is more important than your training," Obi-Wan replied, but Anakin had already pressed the button. A dark haired youngish man's face was instantly visible.

"Oh, excuse me. I was looking for Knight Kenobi." The face twisted into a wistful smile. "Please excuse me. I seem to have made a mistake."

"No mistake. He's here." Anakin turned to smirk up at his master. "It's for you."

"Obi? Are you there?" came the voice, electronically disembodied and hollow sounding.

"Van? Is that you?" Obi-Wan approached the monitor as Anakin moved away.

"Yes, Obi. It's so good to see you. It's been such a long time."

"Hey," Obi-Wan replied, smiling widely. "If you'd just quit doing such a good job on the field missions, they'd let you stay around here more."

"Just what I always wanted. To be assigned to teach initiates. Or worse, to spend a few days of duty in the crèche." Van laughed good- naturedly. The sound warmed Obi-Wan's heart.

"I'm about an hour from landing. Can you meet me? It's been ages."

"I thought you weren't due back here for another two cycles."

"Well, I came a few days early. We haven't had time together since before Naboo." Instantly, the face on the screen looked embarrassed. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean. . ."

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, who had made a short snorting noise. Anakin gestured toward the screen, smiling slyly. "Go on, master. We can finish this later."

"That's all right, Van." Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the screen. "Which pad?"

"Seven.' Van grinned. "On the eighteenth level. See you in an hour?"

"Yes. An hour." The screen went black.

"Master," Anakin wheedled in a teasing voice, "and just who is this Van?"

"Just a friend, Anakin." Obi-Wan could catch his padawan's drift and wanted to nip those thoughts off at the bud. "We were padawans together."

"Yeah. Right. Just padawans? Nothing more? He seemed awfully glad to see you."

Obi-Wan suddenly felt a pang of regret. A friend. Something Anakin didn't have. Something Anakin wouldn't understand. "Yes, Ani. A good friend."

"Well, Master. Pad seven on the eighteenth level is a half-hour away. And you ought to bathe first, don't you think?" Anakin smirked. "You go see your *good friend* and I'll stay here and practice my meditation techniques." With that, the boy turned his back to his master and sashayed out onto the balcony and pulled the door shut behind him.

Obi-Wan started to protest, but he realized he probably did need a shower. He had sweat as much in his meeting with Yoda and Yaddle as he would in an hour's exercise in the salle. Obi-Wan just wished he could tell when Anakin was teasing or being intentionally insolent.

Despite his happy anticipation of seeing an old friend, it was a subdued and reflective Jedi knight that waited on the seventh pad. Several people disembarked before Obi-Wan saw his old friend. Just the sight of him made Obi-Wan feel better. He went forward and accepted the enthusiastic hug gratefully.

"And now to the sublevels," Van said, handing his pack to a courier droid, and pulling Obi-Wan along by the hand. "Is The Flair still open?"

Obi-Wan laughed in spite of himself. "You remember that old dump?"

"My very best memories started there. Remember?"

Once they had reached their twenty-first naming day, the Code's restrictions against any sexual contact were lifted and, like a dam breaking, many of the padawans went a bit wild. Obi-Wan remembered watching Van prowl the dance floor, inspecting the choices and ultimately leaving with his 'date' for the night. Night after night. Obi-Wan hadn't minded though. Van always liked to arrive with a friend and leave with a bed partner and never noticed that Obi- Wan went home alone. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea tonight since it would get him back to his padawan quicker.

"Sure. I think we can do that." He smiled up at the taller man, who wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder, drawing him toward the transport stop. They were the same age, but with a clean-shaven face and those bright blue eyes, Van looked much younger. Or maybe Obi-Wan just felt older.

It was a short trip. Obi-Wan filled Van in on the Temple gossip and Van filled Obi-Wan in on his recent adventures. Obi-Wan began to relax in the company of his old friend.

"So why The Flair?" Obi-Wan asked as they disembarked the transit. "You hoping to get lucky tonight?"

"Hah," Van laughed. "I'm older and wiser now. . ."

"Hopefully," Obi-Wan interjected.

". . .but it does bring back good memories." Van's grin was infectious.

"You always had good luck on the pick-ups here."

"Unfortunately," Van whispered conspiratorially, wrapping a friendly arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder as he opened the club door, "there were a few things I picked up here I wished I hadn't."

Obi-Wan laughed heartily at that comment. It crossed his mind that it had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a laugh. "It's a good thing none of us knew that at the time, or you would have never heard the end of it."

"I figured as much."

Settling into a back booth at the club, Van reached across the table and took Obi-Wan's hand in his own. "So tell me. How have you really been?"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan answered automatically.

"No, you're not. You look tired."

"Training a padawan is much harder than we realized," Obi-Wan had to force the laugh. "We should have given our masters more credit when we were young."

"Tell me about it! What did I just say about my worst nightmare being an assignment to teach saber skills to initiates?" Van waved a hand in the air in Obi-Wan's direction. "Look at you! A field promotion for defeating the Sith, your master died and you became master to a padawan all in the same week. And a young off-world padawan at that. Has it really been two years?" Van sat back in his seat, shaking his head. "What is it? Is he wiping up the salle floor with you already?"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan said again, trying to sound sincere in the face of the abrupt summary of the past two years of his life.

"What you need is a drink," Van said quickly. Signaling a service droid, Van called out "Two glasses Alderian Druva wine." He smiled across the table at his old friend, who tried to smile back. "No," Van said, turning back to the droid, "just bring the bottle."

Obi-Wan grasped the knight's wrist. "Oh, no. That's much too expensive."

Van smiled back. "How often do I get to enjoy a drink with you, my friend? It's worth the credits."

The droid beeped and said, "What year?"

"Pick a good one for us," Van answered.

There was an awkward silence as the droid turned and left the booth. Obi-Wan did not release his grip and Van did not try to withdraw his hand. Instead, he covered Obi-Wan's hand with his other. "Talk to me, Obi."

Obi made a slight move as if to pull back, then looked down into his lap. "I'm fine," he said for the third time.

"Okay. Have it your way. You're fine."

The service droid put two glasses on the table, along with a large green bottle. Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and placed it in his lap.

Van glossed over the movement with one of his own. He poured two full glasses and pushed one toward his friend. "To old friends," he said as he raised a glass, waiting for Obi-Wan to join him in the toast.

"To old friends," Obi-Wan said, taking a sip out of his glass.

"Ahh, my dear. That is not going to cut it. You don't take a dainty sip when the toast is to old friends. You drain the glass. Come on." Van tipped his head back and drained his own, then looked hard at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan drained his glass in a few short swallows, a small cough escaping at the end.

"Hah," Van chortled. "I can see you are out of practice. I can fix that." He took up the bottle and filled the glasses again.

"Van, this wine is much too expensive to be guzzling," Obi-Wan protested.

"But they're my credits. Drink up." Again, Van drained his glass and looked hard at Obi-Wan, who followed.

Smiling mischievously, Van took up the bottle again. Obi-Wan put his hand over the top of his glass, but Van just moved it away and filled the glasses again.

"Van," Obi-Wan said in a warning tone.

Van sobered a bit. "I'm not making you toast again with that one," he said, gesturing toward Obi-Wan's full glass. "You can sip it to your heart's content." He reached across the table and took Obi- Wan's hand into his own. "So tell me. We've known each other since we were crechlings together. We suffered Master Yaddle's threats and admonishments together. You know I can tell that you aren't *fine*. So what's up? Is it the padawan?"

Obi-Wan was silent, his head lowered.

"Or is it that you miss Master Jinn?" Van's tone was soft and consoling.

After a long moment of silence, Obi-Wan knew that Van wouldn't give up without some truth. "It's both."

"So start at the beginning."

Obi-Wan didn't know where the beginning was anymore. He just knew where he was now. He was living in the moment. He turned a wry smile to his old friend. "Is this where I get to repeat the old cliché about being up to my ass in dia nogas to the point that I've forgotten that my mission was to drain the swamp?"

Van tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's hand. "I know you, Obi. You will give it all you've got. You don't know how to do anything any other way. I'll bet you're a great master. You just don't think so because you don't have Master Jinn standing in the wings to tell you so."

Obi-Wan looked up into eyes as blue and deep as Qui-Gon's had been. "I wouldn't have been a master to Anakin if Qui had lived. I failed him." Obi-Wan could feel the sting of moisture in his eyes and swallowed hard to keep from letting it become tears.

"Here," Van said, pushing the glass toward Obi-Wan, who took a gulp gratefully. "You didn't fail him. You defeated the Sith. If anything, he failed you, leaving you to fight the Sith alone. Force knows, that's more than any padawan ought to be expected to do. You can't deny that, can you?"

Obi-Wan was not going to let himself give in to tears and he had had all the pity he could stand for one day. Instead of answering Van, he forced a bright smile onto his face and turned toward the dance floor. "Dance with me, Van."

The sudden change of mood took the other man by surprise. "Obi. . ?

"No one has danced with me since Qui-Gon died. It's like I'm supposed to be in permanent mourning. Please. Dance with me."

Obi-Wan stood and pulled Van up out of the booth. Van let himself be led into the next room and onto the dance floor, following Obi-Wan's lead. The music was fast and the beat was bouncy. They started dancing. At the end of the song, a couple next to them split up and the two partners turned to Van and Obi. "Wanna dance?" they asked, and when the music started again, the four of them danced together. Obi-Wan lost track of time. The other couple was buying drinks, and Obi-Wan and Van joined them at their table for a few rounds. Then they danced a few more times on their own.

The music became slow and sinuous, and the occupants of the dance floor drew into couples and began swaying. Van took Obi-Wan into his arms and started to lead them, pulling Obi-Wan's head down onto his shoulder with his arm around Obi-Wan's back. As they lost themselves in the music, Van slid his other arm around Obi-Wan's back and slowly, bit by bit, drew him closer. And still the music continued and the dancers swayed.

The motion between their bodies was brushing their pelvises together. Obi-Wan could feel a tingle in his groin, but didn't try to pull away from Van. Instead, he let himself melt into the embrace, leaning in more heavily. He felt a kiss on the top of his head, sweet and tender. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, and felt a kiss on the center of his forehead. Gentle. Just a brush of soft lips.

A kiss on his forehead. Obi-Wan could well remember a similar kiss.

They had won the sparring contest. He and his master. They had won every level of the competitions. A few had been tight matches but, for the most part, they had sailed through. For two ten-days they had competed, their timing and coordination almost perfect. They complimented one another in ways that other padawan / master teams envied. What Qui-Gon Jinn could not accomplish with strength and endurance, Obi-Wan could accomplish with speed and dexterity. It was almost like flying. He could feel the Force all around them, like a cushion against the universe. Oh, Gods, it had been good.

Obi-Wan leaned in closer to his dance partner, losing himself in the hypnotic music, the rhythmic movement and the warm embrace. The buzz in his brain felt good, soft and fuzzy.

And they had won. Not that there were trophies, or medals or ribbons. Just the respect of their peers. That was all the honours they needed. Everyone had come to watch the last match. There wasn't a space for another occupant in the gymnasium. But none of that had mattered. As they were called to the competition floor, he and his master had turned and bowed to one another in the traditional respectful manner. The light in his master's eyes shone just for him. If only he could have maintained that eye contact forever. But they had turned away from one another and bowed to their opponent team. And the match was on.

They had danced. They had soared. They had been perfectly in tune with one another. Each maneuver brought them closer to their success. Each movement was coordinated as if they shared a single mind in two bodies. And for one brief moment, the happiness had been complete. And he had felt such a tumult of emotions when they prevailed: trusted and trusting, proud of their accomplishments yet humbled by their efforts, loved and whole.

Qui-Gon's congratulatory kiss on his brow, his last moment of perfect happiness. The sweet tender kiss, so full of innocence and yet also full of sensual promise. His master's tribute to him in the presence of the whole assemblage. His body had responded, instinct urging him to press up against his master's body, to savor the physical contact between them.

"Obi?" he heard, whispered into his ear. It felt so good to be here in this embrace. To feel his partner's sex hardening, just as his was.

"Obi?" he heard again. He just nodded, rubbing his cheek against the rough fabric of his partner's tunic and wiggling his hips just enough to increase the delicious friction.

"Obi?" A finger under his chin lifted his face, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes. All he saw before him were the bright blue eyes, shining down on him.

"Mmmm," he answered, snuggling in closer and putting his cheek back against that strong shoulder.

"Obi-Wan?" This time the hand held his chin in place. When he opened his eyes, he still saw the bright blue eyes, but this time they were framed in curly black hair that fell forward as Van's lips came down onto his own.

Van's lips. Not Qui-Gon's. Van's hair tickling his cheek. Not Qui- Gon's. Van's erection rubbing against his own.

Not Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan pulled back sharply, away from the kiss and out of the embrace. "No," he moaned, turning away, trying to leave. But he'd had more alcohol than he realized and his feet were not cooperating. He stumbled and Van's arms circled his waist to keep him from falling. "No!" he cried again, trying to get his feet under him. He looked up and saw the other dancers had stopped their swaying and were watching him curiously. "Oh, Force, no," he said more softly. "Please, no."

Van took charge. He steered Obi-Wan into the other room and quickly took up their cloaks. He wrapped Obi-Wan in his own cloak and, holding tight to his shoulders, maneuvered them out of the club. Obi- Wan's shoulders were shaking now, his head lowered. Van pulled the cloak's hood up and tried to head them both toward the transport stop.

But Obi-Wan pulled away from the supporting arm, and shuffled down the street, shaking off Van's attempts to re-direct him. He was headed into the path of an on-coming speeder when Van grabbed him by both arms and jerked him to a stop, pulling him up against his body tightly.

Obi-Wan didn't resist. He just leaned back against Van, then slumped down. Van turned him quickly, pulling Obi-Wan up against his chest, wrapping his arms around his back and holding him up. Obi-Wan's face fell forward and Van could feel the tears soaking through his tunic. He backed into an alley, pulling Obi-Wan with him, and leaned against a wall. Then he just held still until the sobs lessened into halting, gulping breaths.

Van pushed Obi-Wan away a bit and held him by his shoulders. "Obi, it's my fault. I encouraged you to drink too much. Let me get you back to the Temple."

Obi-Wan just nodded and Van pulled him back onto the street. Obi-Wan kept his hood up and his arms folded in his sleeves during the transport trip to the Temple, allowing Van to direct him by gentle pushes against his elbow. He paid no attention to their path until Van pushed him down onto a cold stone bench.

Obi-Wan looked around. They were in the fountain garden, the one that Qui-Gon had liked to meditate in. Even in the moonlight, Obi-Wan could see that they were very near Qui-Gon's favorite spot, and the tears started to flow again. He just couldn't stop them. At least this time he wasn't in front of strangers and making a fool of himself. Just Van, and Van would forgive him. He always had. He probably always would.

Van pulled him off the bench and down onto the soft carpet of grass. Again, he held his friend and let him cry. Obi-Wan didn't try to pull out of his embrace, but this time, the sobbing increased in intensity rather than lessening, until Obi-Wan was practically keening in grief. Van extended his shields, encompassing them both to keep Obi-Wan's cries from waking the whole Temple.

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels, tilting his head back and crying out as if he expected the sky to answer him. "Oh, Force, Qui. Why did you make me do this? Why did you ask this of me?" The words came out in staccato breaths, as Obi-Wan's hands gripped fists of Van's tunic, jerking. "I would have loved you forever. Why did you turn me away? I would never have asked you to live a lie. Why?"

When the keening lessened, Van pulled Obi-Wan back into his embrace, and Obi-Wan let himself be held again. Van made soothing motions on Obi-Wan's back, murmuring small hushing sounds until Obi-Wan's tears subsided.

Finally, Obi-Wan pulled back. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. . ." Obi-Wan knew that he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

Van continued rubbing Obi-Wan's back and shoulders. "It's all right. I'm here."

"But I shouldn't have," Obi-Wan snuffled, wiping his nose and face on the sleeve of his cloak. He brushed a hand ineffectually against Van's damp shoulder. "I've gotten you all wet."

"It's all right. That's what friends are for," Van said soothingly. "I'll bet this is the first time you have let yourself cry. I don't know how you've made it this long."

Obi-Wan looked up into the moonlit face. "Why would you say that?"

Van answered. "You just don't let yourself go. Always the perfect Jedi." Van paused, shaking his head. "I'm just sorry I wasn't here for you when Master Jinn died."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I should have commed. I should have asked you to help. I just can't seem to keep things together any more."

Van wadded up his cloak and lay down, using the cloak for a pillow and pulled Obi-Wan down onto the grass. He slid his arm under Obi- Wan's neck and pulled his friend up next to him. "How long were you lovers?" he asked softly.

Obi-Wan stiffened. How could he know? Was this another mind game?

"No," Obi-Wan whispered. "I can't."

Van tightened his grip around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Are you afraid I'll tell someone?"

"I just can't," Obi-Wan repeated softly.

continued in part 2