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Focus

by The Rose and Kalujinn

Title: Focus
Author: The Rose and Kalujinn
Archive: M/A and my web site, http://www.sockiipress.org/~rose
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Category: Point of View, Romance, Qui/Obi
Warnings: No
Spoilers: Nope
Feedback: <waves hand slowly in air> You WILL send feedback. Ah, come on! You know you want to! Either on-list or off to: rosarocaminis@yahoo.com
Disclaimers: George Lucas owns all things Star Wars and makes a fortune off of them. Me, I write for the fun of it and give it away for free.
Summary: This is the eighth installment in the "Glimpses" series, co-written by The Rose and Kalujinn. The series order is: "Qui-Gon's Treasure," "A Slow Healing," "A Gift for Qui-Gon," "Observations," "Sunsets," "Measure of a Man," and "Daydreams."

"Your focus determines your reality."
-- Qui-Gon Jinn

Obi-Wan's hand tightens around my penis, and it is all I can do not to buck up into the warmth, but he has forbidden it. I am his to control, his to torment – or to please – as the mood strikes him. It is erotic, sensual, and it is driving me slowly insane.

He chuckles. "I heard that," he says, his breath ghosting over my skin as he leans low over me. "You think very loudly."

"Only when I'm being tortured," I respond.

"Oh?" His tongue flicks out, teasing at the slit that is even now oozing pre-cum. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Never!" I gasp. I arch into his hand, unable to help myself, and he immediately presses me down onto the floor again, his grip almost painful.

"Lie still!" he orders.

I comply, unable to do anything else, and he flashes a grin at me. "Better. Now, close your eyes." I obey, and his tongue resumes its lazy path, tasting me, while his hand tightens around the base of my cock, preventing me from coming even as I feel my climax drawing near.

"Yes, Master," I whimper. I love this game, which is a good thing, because it seems to be Obi-Wan's favorite, as well. I love submitting to him, letting him dominate and control me. I gasp as the hot wetness of his mouth engulfs me, swallowing me nearly to the root, his lips pressing against the tight ring of his fingers.

I don't know how much more I can take. I dig my fingernails into the rough floor beneath me, feeling one bend backwards and break near the quick. The sudden flash of pain only seems to push me nearer to a completion that is being denied.

Obi-Wan crawls up the length of me, his tongue leaving a damp trail across my stomach and chest. "Do you need to come, Jedi?" he asks in a voice not at all the one I am used to hearing.

I nod, frantically, words failing me.

"Tell me," he urges. "Tell me what you need, Jedi."

"Please!" I shout, the sound echoing off the walls. "Please, I need to come!"

A chuckle, dark and evil, made my eyes snap open, and I took in the low ceiling with its single suspended light, the dark stone walls, the open door, and the hooded figure standing there, his hand outstretched. A moan of profound despair escaped me.

"Do you, Jedi?" the Sith asked. His fingers contracted on empty air, and the pressure on my cock increased until I curled into a ball in agony. "Do you need to come?"

"Please," I moaned, knowing after all this time that nothing I did, nothing I said, would influence this one with the red and black tattoos. Still, I begged. "Please..."

"Pathetic," he said, laughing again. "And hardly worth my time." He released his invisible hold on my cock, which wilted like a cut vala-flower, and backed out the door, locking it behind him.

I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Silent sobs of hopelessness racked my body, but I managed not to make a sound. Resolutely, I closed my eyes and reached for the images of my dream…

Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan, stretches out above me, pleasuring me with his mouth. With a sigh, I let myself sink back into my fantasy...

Lightning flashed through the windshield, the answering roar of thunder echoing through the small ship. Obi-Wan had never been to Kamino before, and from the dark clouds and pouring rain that he was flying through, he was quite certain that he didn't want to be here now.

Still, the Force was tugging at him, urging him to approach, to see – something – although he was unsure of what. He set the ship down and locked the controls, then hurried to the nearest building. He was soaked through when he arrived and reached up to push off the sodden hood as a being approached him. She was tall, willowy with large, almond shaped eyes.

"Welcome, Master Jedi," the being said in a silken voice. "We've been expecting you."

"I'm expected?" Obi-Wan asked warily, reaching out with the Force but picking up no sense of danger.

"Of course! After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren't coming. My name is Taun We. And you are Master Jedi –"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Taun We dipped her head in what was probably a nod. "You must be here to inspect the merchandise. I'm sure your Council will be pleased to know that we have two hundred thousand units ready, with another million on the way."

"That is good news," Obi-Wan said, improvising.

"Come. I'll show you."

Taun We led the way though long corridors. They passed a classroom, its glass wall allowing an unhindered view inside as dozens of young human-looking boys sat shoulder to shoulder, concentrating hard on their lessons. Obi-Wan studied their faces, and felt his stomach turn over.

They were all identical.

"Clones," he murmured, feeling a shiver of disquiet travel up his spine.

"This group is only four years old," Taun We said proudly. "But, with our accelerated growth and training program, they are the equivalent of twelve-year-olds."

"And, the host? Is he here?"

"He was, but he was removed a few days ago," Taun We said. "He was no longer needed, since we had sufficient genetic material to complete the order."

"Removed? By whom?"

"Why, by the one who brought him, of course."

Obi-Wan felt the hollowness in the pit of his stomach grow, deepening until it threatened to choke him, as if the Force were tapping him on the shoulder, begging him to understand, although what he couldn't say. He shrugged off the sensation. Undoubtedly, it was merely the presence of so many clones and the blank spots they made in the Force.

Taun We moved off, leading Obi-Wan past more classrooms and more identical children, past a large dining hall filled with a matching group of young teenagers, until finally they reached a balcony overlooking a huge parade ground. Below them, thousands of helmeted soldiers marched in perfect formation.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" Taun We said. "A grand army for the Republic."

Obi-Wan couldn't pull his eyes away from the spectacle below them, until he caught a glimpse of a smaller group, separated from the others, sitting on the cold permacrete floor in a loose circle. These were young adults, perhaps in their twenties. They were long-limbed and powerfully build, with somewhat coarse features and short, chestnut-toned hair. He felt his face go pale, his hands clinching into involuntary fists. He slipped them inside his sleeves to hide the reaction from his host.

"In addition to the growth and intelligence enhancements, we've modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host," Taun We said, completely oblivious to the turmoil the Jedi was feeling. "As a result they are totally obedient, taking any order without question."

Obi-Wan kept tight control over his expression, though his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. It took him a few moments to find his voice. "Well, I've seen what I was sent here to see. Thank you for the tour. It's been – very enlightening."

"Certainly. Would you like me to escort you back to your ship?"

"There's no need, but thank you."

Obi-Wan hurried back down the corridors until he was once again outside in the pouring rain. He stripped out of his wet robe as he climbed aboard his fighter. Anger, astonishment, and something else, something that he hadn't felt in a very long time, were churning furiously inside him.

He reached for the comm unit, surprised to see that his hand was shaking slightly. He stilled it in his lap before a holographic image of his apprentice appeared. Anakin's smile of greeting was quickly replaced with a concerned frown as his gaze traveled over Obi-Wan's face.

"Master, what's wrong?"

"I discovered something – very unsettling," Obi-Wan said, barely conscious of the steady drip of his wet hair down the back of his tunic. "Please meet me at the Council Chambers upon my return. It's not something I can discuss on the open airways."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan cut the transmission. Alone with his thoughts, he closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to find his center and release his emotions to the Force. Finally, calmer, he reached for his controls and brought the engines up to speed. As he lifted off, he wondered how the Jedi were going to deal with this turn of events.

It has been an unbearably long day. Obi-Wan, my highly intelligent, well-trained, and indescribably lovely apprentice has taken the lead in these negotiations. He is using his age, which is a near match to that of most of the delegates, to his advantage. He's doing an outstanding job, not that that surprises me. But, it has left me with nothing to do but sit quietly in the background and watch.

It is cold here, and I am thankful for the warmth of my robe, although it is still not enough to stave off the chill that seems to have settled into my bones as if it has always been there. I shift slightly in the hard wooden chair and try not to fidget like a first-year apprentice.

Why is this so difficult for me, I wonder? Is it merely the fact that I have given up control that makes me feel so powerless? Is it my age catching up with me, or something more, something deeper?

A shiver rattles my teeth, and Obi-Wan glances in my direction, his eyes missing nothing. I sense his concern washing over me but cannot touch him through the Force. He feels so far away even though he is only across the room.

And then he smiles.

It's not much, just a tiny uplift of the corners of his mouth, but it is only for me, and it is enough. The chill of the room, the hardness of the seat beneath me, the endless hours of mind-numbing boredom seem to fade away. Obi-Wan loves me, and it is enough.

By the time he landed on Coruscant, Obi-Wan's conflicting feelings had coalesced into a white-hot rage. Someone, someone on the Council apparently, had ordered the clone army. Someone had known about this abomination all along.

He strode rapidly through the corridors, focused only on finding out who was behind this, and why it had been kept from him all these years. He heard footsteps behind him but didn't turn, not even when his padawan drew alongside him, matching him step for step.

"Welcome back, Master," Anakin began. But, ever sensitive to Obi-Wan's mood and no doubt sensing his anger, he broke off. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan could see Anakin biting his lower lip, a habit he despaired of ever training out of him. But still he did not turn, intent only on his confrontation with the Council.

"You should try to release your anger, Master. It's not healthy, nor wise."

"I know."

Anakin reached out and touched Obi-Wan on the arm. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

"You'll find out soon enough." Obi-Wan did not slow down even as he stepped into the Council Chambers anteroom. He gave a brief nod to the receptionist as she waved them inside, but spared her not a look otherwise. The full Council was assembled, he was pleased to see, waiting for his report. He stopped in the center of the room and gave a very brief, almost non-existent bow.

Yoda's disapproval of his rudeness showed on his face. Two or three other Council members were frowning, and Anakin was staring at him in almost open-mouthed disbelief.

"Disturbed you are," Yoda said.

"Disturbed? Yes, Master, I'm disturbed." Obi-Wan glanced around the room, making eye contact with each Council member, looking for a sign that they knew what he had uncovered and finding none. "I'd like to know when and why the Jedi ordered an army of clones to be created."

Genuine surprise replaced disapproval on the faces watching him.

"A clone army, you say?" Mace asked.

"Yes. Over a million of them will soon be ready. The Kamoians were not surprised when it was a Jedi who came to inspect the troops."

The Council members exchanged startled glances, and silence descended for several long seconds. Obi-Wan could feel the Force swirling through the room as the assembled beings conferred among themselves. But, he could get no sense of guilt or secrecy, only dismay.

"Know of this we did not," Yoda said in his softest voice. "Very disturbing this is."

"There's more," Obi-Wan began, but he broke off as the double doors opened.

"Forgive me for interrupting," the padawan receptionist said as she stepped into the room. "But, there's an urgent incoming message, a live feed. I didn't think it should wait."

Yoda nodded and waved her out. In the center of the room, a glowing hologram appeared, twice life size and menacing, and Obi-Wan's hand went of its own accord to his lightsaber hilt. All around the room, Council members came to their feet.

"Jedi." The black and red tattooed Sith spat out the word as if it were the vilest of curses.

"Who are you?" Mace Windu demanded, stepping towards the image.

"My name is Darth Maul," the Sith said. "I know that Knight Kenobi has been to Kamino, and has discovered the secret we have hidden there."

"Behind the creation of this clone army, you are?" Yoda asked.

"No. But I'm the one who supplied them with their most worthy host." He stepped aside as the camera view panned out, taking in the whole of the stone walled room. Obi-Wan felt his knees go weak, barely registering the shocked gasps of those around him. For there, hanging from his wrists in the back of the room, was Qui-Gon Jinn.

His face was pale, creased with lines, and older than Obi-Wan remembered, but it was truly him. He appeared to be unconscious, his chest lifting slowly with each labored breath. A metal collar of some sort was fitted tightly around his neck, barely visible through the cascade of straggly, filthy hair that hung forward over Qui-Gon's shoulders.

Maul's face broke into an evil smile. "There's not much left of him, as you can see. But, you're welcome to come retrieve him. He's of no further use to me." The image of the Sith turned until he was staring directly into Obi-Wan's eyes. "If you still want him, that is."

Maul laughed, a deep, chilling sound, and the transmission was cut.

"Trace the source we must, immediately!" Yoda ordered.

Two of the masters rose, heading for the comm center, and Adi turned to Obi-Wan. "Were you trying to tell us --?"

"Knew he was alive, you did," Yoda said solemnly.

"Yes, Master. The clones – all of them – are Qui-Gon." A hiss of indrawn breath from beside him announced Anakin's surprise. "They're younger, to be sure, and without his broken nose and beard, but they are him. It was – quite a shock." He looked deeply into Yoda's eyes. "Did you know he was still alive?"

Yoda's ear tips rose at the slightly accusatory tone. "Know he was alive we did not! Think you that we would abandon him? That we would leave him in the hands of the Sith if knew we had?"

Obi-Wan gave his head a short, unsettled shake. "I don't know what to believe, not after this. How could you not have sensed it, like I –"

"Like you did?" Yoda finished for him. At Obi-Wan's nod, he continued, leaning forward onto his gimer stick. "Break entirely the training bond often does not at the time of death. Especially strong your bond was. Not unusual is it for a padawan to still sense his master's presence, even long after the other has passed into the Force."

"So, he didn't disincorporate as we thought," Obi-Wan said, hugging himself against a sudden, new chill. "And all this time, all these years..."

A warm hand on his shoulder made him turn to his apprentice. Somber blue eyes stared into his. "We'll find him, Master. We'll bring him home."

But Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. I'll bring him home. You have exams –"

"You can't go alone!" Anakin began, gearing up for an argument.

"I'll go with him," Mace Windu said. He met Obi-Wan's gaze. "If it's a trap, it will take two masters to handle the Sith."

Anakin bristled, though Obi-Wan doubted that anyone else could see it. "I'm as good with a 'saber as most masters!"

"We'll discuss this later, Padawan," Obi-Wan said.

"But..." Anakin broke off at a sharp glance from his master, and lowered his head and fell silent.

The Councilors who had gone to the comm center returned. "We've traced the transmission to its source," one of them said, handing Mace a datapad.

"We can be there in a little over two days," Mace said after scanning the information. He looked at Obi-Wan. "We'll leave as soon as a ship is readied."

The Knight nodded, anticipation warring with misgivings in his heart. Without a word, he turned and headed back to his quarters to pack, aware of his brooding apprentice trailing him.

Would Qui-Gon still be alive by the time they arrived to rescue him? Or would the Sith, in an act of hatred and darkness, kill him before they landed?

Obi-Wan could only pray that the former be true. After all these years, and the profound sense of failure he'd felt, he couldn't imagine discovering that his master was alive, only to lose him again, permanently.

He does not notice me standing in the doorway to the 'fresher. He runs a critical hand over his jaw, seeking any stray whiskers he may have missed with the razor. Satisfied, he cups his hands under the running water and splashes his face one final time. The towel he has draped over one shoulder dangles toward the sink and narrowly misses getting soaked as it slips. He catches it and pats his jaw line.

The fluffy white of the towel contrasts nicely with the light tan he sports, a reminder of our recent vacation on Devinnar 3. It extends down his broad shoulders, nicely tapering torso and lean hips, giving silent testimony to all the time he spent naked in the sun. My gaze roams over him in mute appreciation.

At last, our eyes meet in the mirror. A playful grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he turns to face me. As always, his body responds to me with eagerness. His cock is firming rapidly as I move into the room, my steps slow and predatory.

I close the distance between us, but I do not touch him. I put my hands on the sink on either side of his hips, trapping him there. His smile widens as he leans back from me, evading my lips.

"Tease," I mutter in mock anger, then I capture him.

The second our lips touch, he presses his body to me, his hardness a welcome intrusion. He rocks his hips in a tantalizing fashion. I hear a soft moan when I touch my tongue to his.

Without giving him any warning, I break the kiss and turn him around. I am amused by the surprised look I see on his face. I slip one arm around his waist as I use my free hand to untie my lacings. He struggles against me half-heartedly, but I squeeze him closer.

"Keep still," I command. My cock pulses strongly in my palm as I rub the head of it against his buttocks. I allow it to rest temptingly in the crevice as I caress the skin of his hip, his stomach and his thighs.

"Qui-Gon," he whispers in need.

I smile at him in the mirror then reach for the bottle of lotion that sits on the countertop. Filling my palm with the creamy liquid, I coat my hardness. I place my hand between his shoulder blades and press his torso down. His muscled behind clenches spasmodically before relaxing to receive me. With no hesitation, I thrust deep into him.

Obi-Wan's sharp cry ends in a reluctant chuckle of pained pleasure. He rocks back against me as he takes himself in hand, stroking in time to my thrusts.

It is intensely erotic to see our faces, side by side, filled with passion. Obi-Wan puts his hand against the mirror, his fingers splayed wide as he pushes back to meet me. The long lashes feather down over his cheek as he closes his eyes in appreciation. I revel in the sight of his beauty.

I do not last long; my seed fills him in a matter of minutes. With a gasp, Obi-Wan pulls himself once, twice, then spends himself. His seed oozes over his tightened fist and spills into the sink. The harsh sound of our staccato breathing fills the room as Obi-Wan slouches forward, his forehead meeting its reflected image in the mirror.

My hands run over his back, rubbing lightly, massaging his shoulders and tracing the contours of his ribs with my fingertips. I am surprised when he starts chuckling weakly.

"What?" I ask.

He leans back so that he is resting against my chest. He gestures toward the sink, "At least this way I don't have to worry about sleeping in the wet spot."

Laughter deepens the color of his eyes. I smile as I kiss his bare shoulder lovingly. His grin widens then begins to morph hideously, his teeth becoming sharply pointed and yellow. I gasp in horror as wickedly orange eyes sparkle at me in the reflection.

Maul turned to face me even as I staggered backwards, widening the distance between us.

It was not enough.

He backhanded me roughly, slicing open the inside of my lip and sending me crashing to the floor. I was back in that stone walled room again, my fantasy forgotten in the face of cold, angry reality, and Maul was standing over me, leering.

I clamped my eyes shut, not wanting to see.

Not wanting to believe.

Mace was already waiting at the hanger deck when Obi-Wan arrived. He looked back towards the door as if expecting someone else to appear.

"Apparently your apprentice isn't as persuasive as I'd thought," he said dryly, picking up his bag to follow Obi-Wan onboard. "I imagined he would talk you into letting him come along."

Obi-Wan gave his head a single shake as he secured the hatch behind them. "He has classes and term-end exams. Besides, I didn't want..."

Mace looked up as Obi-Wan trailed off. "Didn't want what?"

Obi-Wan felt heat rise to his cheeks, and struggled not to let the Councilor see it. "I didn't want to take the chance of losing him to the Sith, the way I lost Qui-Gon."

Mace reached out as if to offer a comforting touch, but Obi-Wan evaded it and moved into the small cockpit. Within moments, he had the pre-flight done, and he lifted them smoothly off the ground. Coruscant's air traffic was fairly light at this time of day, and soon they were in deep space. As he made the jump to lightspeed, Obi-Wan felt the Force tickling at his consciousness. Puzzled, he made his way back into the main cabin and reached out with his senses.

He frowned. "You can come out now, Padawan," he said, his voice tight.

Mace shot him a surprised look then glanced away as the door to one of the small sleeping compartments opened and Anakin stepped out. The young man's eyes flickered from Obi-Wan to Mace and back again, before bowing his head in apology.

"Forgive me, Masters," he said.

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest, glaring at his apprentice, but Mace only shook his head in silence. He shot Obi-Wan a look. "I'll leave you to deal with this," he said before moving back into the cockpit.

"You deliberately disobeyed me."

Anakin gave a little sigh. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master."

"No you're not."

Anakin looked up finally, his blue eyes locking with Obi-Wan's. "Yes, I am sorry that I disobeyed you. I'm not sorry, though, that I snuck aboard." He took a single step forward. "You need me, Master. I feel it. You need me to watch your back. I couldn't let you face a Sith alone."

"I'm not alone. Master Windu is with me."

The padawan's mouth tightened into a thin line. "With all due respect, Master," he began, his gaze flickering toward the closed cockpit door, "I'm every bit as good with a lightsaber as he is. Better probably, since he's not on active mission status anymore. And, I know your fighting style. I'm much better equipped to protect you than he is."

"I don't need protection, Padawan," Obi-Wan told him firmly. "I've half a mind to turn this ship around and take you back to the Temple."

Anakin's eyes widened at that, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I don't want to take the time. So, my very young, very disobedient apprentice, it looks like you'll be accompanying me after all." Anakin's face brightened briefly before Obi-Wan continued. "But, you must promise me to be cautious. The Sith may be waiting for us. He is a very powerful warrior. Do not allow your overconfidence to draw you into a situation you cannot handle."

"But, I can handle-" Anakin began, his brows drawing together in frustration.

"No," Obi-Wan said emphatically. "The three of us must do this together. There is too much at risk here. You will follow my lead in this, Padawan."

Anakin sighed deeply and nodded. "I will, Master. You have my word."

The Neesco system was one of the most desolate places in the universe. Its small yellow sun was fading into darkness and soon would die. Soon in galactic terms, that is. In the meanwhile, there were rich pickings among the many asteroid belts that encircled it. Anyone with the right technology could make a fortune harvesting tolla ore from the pulverized would-be planets.

The information in the archives had been sketchy at best. There were three asteroids of sufficient size to support a base, according to the data chip Jocasta Nu had prepared for Obi-Wan. He had analyzed the charts during the long journey from Coruscant, running calculations to predict the location of the asteroids.

There's a reason why asteroid belts shouldn't be navigated, Obi-Wan thought as he studied the results of his latest simulation.

"You should take a break," Mace's voice intruded on his thoughts. The dark-skinned man sat down across from him in the galley booth. He placed a mug of steaming tea on the table and pushed it towards Obi-Wan. "Here, drink this."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured gratefully as he took a sip. There was a slight tremble to his hand as he put the mug down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mace asked solicitously, a look of genuine concern on his face.

Obi-Wan started to shake his head then stilled himself, his gaze focused on his trembling hands. At last, he raised his eyes. "I feel like I've betrayed him, Master. I should have done more."

"What could you have done that you did not do, Obi-Wan?" Mace leaned forward, his elbows propped on the tabletop. "There was no sign of him. None of us could get a sense of him. Not me. Not even Master Yoda."

"I know, but-"

"It's not your fault." The dark man placed one hand over Obi-Wan's own, stilling it.

"It is my fault!" He jerked his hand away, abruptly rose from the booth and began to pace restlessly. "If I hadn't allowed myself to get separated from him, I would have been there to help him."

"You fell five levels. You were injured," Mace reminded him.

"It's no excuse!" Obi-Wan stopped, his fists on his hips as he stared blindly at the floor. "I should have been there."

Mace sighed and leaned his head back against the back of the booth. A long silence grew between them, broken only by the soft beeping of the food prep unit. Finally, the older man spoke. "Qui-Gon would tell you not to focus on your anxieties, to keep your attention on the here and now. Wouldn't he?"

"Yes."

"Good," Mace said brusquely as he got to his feet. "Then I don't need to say it myself."

Obi-Wan watched the older man as he left the galley and turned toward the cockpit. He swept one hand over his face, his fingers scratching absently at the neat beard on his chin then took a deep breath.

"Right."

He stepped over to the table and gathered up the flimsies, rifling through them quickly. With a decisive nod, he went to join his companions.

Anakin skillfully guided the ship to a soft landing in the open hanger of the asteroid base. Their reconnaissance had shown no bases on Neesco One or Two. The process of elimination had led them here, to Neesco Three. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin quickly shut down the engines. Silence settled in the cockpit.

"That's odd," Mace commented. He stood behind the co-pilot's seat, hunched down so that he could see out the window in front of Obi-Wan. "Someone should have met us, even if it's just a droid."

"I've got a bad feeling," Anakin murmured softly as he glanced towards his master.

"Let's go," Obi-Wan ordered as he rose from his seat. The heels of his boots rang out as he strode down the main hold to the exit, his companions close behind. Instinctively, he reached for his lightsaber as he descended the ramp, his senses on alert for any sudden movements.

"This is damned odd," Mace reiterated, the hilt of his own 'saber in hand.

The large hanger bay was deserted. A thin layer of dust covered the floor. Many of the lights in the ceiling high overhead were burned out or broken, throwing menacing shadows on the recesses of the bay.

"It looks like no one has been here in years," Anakin observed as he crouched to swipe his fingertips over the floor. He stood up, dusting off his hands as he glanced upward. "It's in an advanced state of disrepair."

"Or perhaps that is what we are intended to think," Obi-Wan replied.

"There's a passage." Mace gestured toward the north wall. "Let's see if we can find someone, shall we?"

The station was laid out in a roughly circular pattern, following the natural shape of the asteroid in which it had been constructed. A short hallway, the walls of which had been hewn out of solid rock and polished smooth, led directly to a central core. It was lined with ladders that led into darkness both above and below the hanger deck level.

"The command center would be up there," Obi-Wan said, lifting his chin, gesturing to the devouring blackness above them.

"Do you suppose they still have power?" Anakin asked. He grabbed hold of a ladder rung and leaned out over the void, squinting into the darkness overhead.

"Only one way to find out," Mace observed as he caught hold of a rung and began to climb. Obi-Wan waited until Mace was disappearing into darkness some ten meters up, then gestured for Anakin to follow, bringing up the rear when Anakin had the same lead. It would not pay for all of them to be on the same ladder at once, in case of attack. They moved cautiously, reaching out to the Force, checking for booby traps but finding none.

The light gradually dimmed as they climbed. At each level, the trio paused to explore the nearby corridors. There were small cabins off the hallways. The personal effects of the occupants were scattered about haphazardly.

"It looks like they abandoned this place in a hurry," Anakin said. He toed a crumpled shirt lying in the doorway of one of the rooms. On the desk, a half eaten sandwich soaked in an overturned cup of caff.

"Look here," Mace called to them softly.

Obi-Wan and his apprentice moved to Mace's side. There was a scorched mark on the wall, near the ceiling.

"Looks like there was a firefight." The Councilor's fingers traced the mark, his gaze traveling back toward the central core as if following the blast's trajectory.

"Let's keep going." Obi-Wan returned to the ladder and continued his ascension. "We need to reach the control room and see if the equipment there can locate Qui-Gon."

"How about this one?" Anakin asked as he spliced together some bare wires.

Mace pressed the power switch, but the board remained silent and dark. "No, nothing."

"Damn it!" Anakin growled, then squirmed deeper into the console. He twisted around so that he was lying flat on his back on the control room floor. "Okay. It's got to be here somewhere. Give me a few minutes."

Mace moved to join Obi-Wan, who stood beside the transparisteel window separating the command center from the iciness of space. The bearded man was deep in meditation, his eyes closed, his breathing even and measured. Mace waited patiently for Obi-Wan to register his presence. At last, blue-green eyes met his own.

"Do you sense him?" Mace asked.

"I'm not sure." Obi-Wan shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I sense... something .. ."

"Something familiar?" Mace prompted as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Vaguely." The younger master rolled his shoulders, as though to dispel a tightness between his shoulder blades, then closed his eyes again. When next he spoke, his voice was very soft. "Is it possible that he's still alive? Or did the Sith kill him before we landed?"

Mace drew a long breath before answering. "I truly wish I knew, Obi-Wan. However, my feeling is that if the Sith had wanted Qui-Gon dead, he would have killed him before, perhaps even during the transmission, so that we'd be forced to watch."

"Unless it's a trap," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Unless he is using Qui-Gon as the bait to lure us here."

"That's possible. But, I sense no immediate danger. Do you?"

"No."

Anakin's voice interrupted them. "I think I've got it!" Even as he said it, the lights on the consoles came to life.

"Excellent." Mace moved immediately to the security board, his fingers ticking over the keys. Obi-Wan hovered over his shoulder, watching tensely, and was joined a few moments later by Anakin. Mace suddenly reached forward to tap a screen. "Here! I'm picking up something!"

"Alive?" Obi-Wan asked anxiously.

"Yes." Mace leaned lower over the display, his brow drawing together. "But, the signal is very weak, cutting in and out. Either there's a flaw in the equipment, or –"

"Or some kind of force field is blocking the scan," Anakin cut in. The three exchanged glances. "It's him, Master! It's Qui-Gon!"

Anakin grabbed his lightsaber from his belt and took off for the door. "Let's go!"

"Anakin!"

The young man stopped his headlong flight, skidding to a halt on the dusty floor. He half turned to face the others.

"Remember your promise," Obi-Wan said as he and Mace joined the young man. "We will remain together."

The padawan brought himself visibly under control. "Yes, Master."

Mace led them back to the central core, dimly lit by the few lights Anakin had managed to get working, and he started down the long series of ladders to the lower levels. Finally, they stood on the level where Mace had located the lifeform. The hallway before them branched off into three separate corridors.

"Which way?" Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice low.

Mace shook his head. "I can't be certain. I suggest we split up, but stay within earshot of each other. I'll go to the right. Obi-Wan, you take the left, and Anakin can search the middle corridor.

Obi-Wan nodded and looked up to lock eyes with his apprentice. "Be mindful, Anakin."

"I will be, Master."

Mace watched as the two moved off before turning to his own task.

"Master?"

That beloved voice, the same and yet different, intruded into Qui-Gon's waking dream. He didn't dare open his eyes for fear it would indeed be just that. A dream. Again.

"Master!"

The urgency in Obi-Wan's voice could not be ignored. With a sigh of resignation, Qui-Gon rolled over and sat up, opening his eyes.

"Thank the Force!" Obi-Wan cried out, bringing his lightsaber to bear on the controls of the force field separating them. The hazy yellow light shorted out and his padawan rushed to kneel before him, one hand reaching up to push a ragged lock of hair behind the older man's ear.

Qui-Gon started at the touch. It was real!

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked anxiously, his gaze sweeping over him in a cursory exam. "Are you injured?"

"A beard," Qui-Gon said disjointedly. He reached out to touch the auburn brush, noting idly that his hand looked gaunt and pale next to the healthy glow of his padawan's skin. "I never imagined you with a beard."

"Master?" Obi-Wan's voice held a note of desperation. "Master, we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

He rose lithely and stepped to Qui-Gon's side, one hand slipping under his elbow to assist him. Qui-Gon responded to his gentle urging. He swayed a bit, unsteady on his feet, but Obi-Wan's hands were at his waist, supporting him.

"Your hair is longer, too. I like it." Qui-Gon reached up to ruffle the hair behind Obi-Wan's right ear. "But, your braid is gone. Obi-Wan, where's your braid?"

Obi-Wan frowned, then turned his head to call out, "Anakin, I found him!"

"Anakin's here?" Qui-Gon asked, a curious smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Where is he? I'd like to see the boy."

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called again, his look of consternation deepening moment by moment.

A tall, blonde-haired young man came through the doorway, a lightsaber in his hand. "We need to get out of here, Master; I've got a bad feeling."

"I know." Obi-Wan replied as he pulled one of Qui-Gon's arms over his shoulders. "Get his other arm."

"Wait!" The older Jedi said forcefully, pulling free of Obi-Wan's grip. A roiling dread filled his gut as he looked closely at the young man. At last, he queried softly, "Anakin?"

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon, it's me." Anakin gave a small bow, the effect of which was marred by his cheeky grin.

"Oh, Force!" Qui-Gon muttered. A curious roaring filled his ears as he backed away from the pair.

"Master –" Obi-Wan held out his hand but the older man flinched as if he had been burned.

"How long?" he asked, a thick horror nearly choking him.

"We'll answer all of your questions once we're safely away," Obi-Wan assured him as he moved to close the distance between them.

"No!" Qui-Gon shouted. The two men froze in place. "How. Long?"

"Ten years, Master," Anakin said quietly.

The world began to gray out around Qui-Gon, and his limbs started to tremble. He heard Obi-Wan call out his name just as his knees gave way beneath him, and he knew no more.

Obi-Wan rushed to the fallen man's side, quickly checking his pulse. It was strong, but very fast.

"Master, is he hurt?"

"Possibly. But I think he's merely exhausted and weak." Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon's arm and pulled him into a sitting position

"What is that on his neck?"

Obi-Wan looked at the gleaming metal collar fastened snuggly around Qui-Gon's throat. "It's a Force suppressor." He draped his former master's arm across his shoulder. "Help me, Padawan. We have to get him out of here."

Soon, Qui-Gon was suspended between them, and they moved out into the corridor. Mace came trotting towards them in the dim lighting. He froze when he saw Qui-Gon's slack features.

"Oh, Force," he breathed. "Is he –"

"He's alive," Obi-Wan said. "Merely unconscious. But we have to get back to our ship. I sense something –"

Mace nodded. "I feel it, too."

They made their way back to the ladder, and only then did Obi-Wan pause to consider how they were going to get Qui-Gon up six levels to the landing platform. Mace was apparently wondering the same thing.

"I could levitate him," the dark-skinned man said somewhat hesitantly.

Obi-Wan looked up the length of the long metal ladder that disappeared into darkness some ten meters above him. He shook his head. "It's too dangerous. What if Qui-Gon should come to and panic?"

Mace sighed and ran a hand over his smooth scalp. "Well, we'll just have to do this the hard way, then." He took Qui-Gon from their grip and hefted him across his shoulder, grunting slightly with the effort. Wrapping his free arm around the ladder, he slowly began to climb.

Obi-Wan and Anakin watched him tensely, ready to reach out with the Force to assist him should the need arise. Just before the Councilor disappeared into the darkness above, Obi-Wan touched Anakin on the elbow.

"You next. Keep him in sight. I'll follow in a few moments."

Anakin nodded and obeyed.

By the time Obi-Wan reached the antechamber to the hanger deck, Mace had managed to catch his breath, though sweat still glistened on his forehead from the exertion of carrying his burden up the six long ladders. Qui-Gon had been lowered to the metal decking and sat slumped against the wall, with Anakin crouched beside him as if keeping vigil.

"He's okay, Master," Anakin said.

"I had to give him a sleep suggestion," Mace said dryly. He reached up to mop his brow. "He came to halfway up, and started to struggle. If not for Anakin's intervention, I'd probably have dropped him."

Obi-Wan turned to study Mace. "Are you all right?"

"Give me a moment and I will be. I guess I’m not in as good a shape as I thought I was."

Across the small chamber, Anakin rose to his feet. He turned into the doorway, and said over his shoulder, "I'll bring the engines up to speed."

Suddenly the Force shrieked in warning, and both Obi-Wan and Mace reacted, but not quickly enough. Force lightning like the quivering blast of a Dinubian plasma ray slammed into Anakin's chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him into the steel wall behind him. Lightsaber ignited, Mace whirled into the doorway, shielding the fallen padawan from further harm, while Obi-Wan dragged his apprentice aside. The young man was deeply unconscious, his tunic blackened and smoking, but he was alive and relatively uninjured.

Obi-Wan joined Mace. A second ship had landed, its gleaming black hull almost invisible in the low lighting. Then, from beside the vessel, a menacing figure emerged. It stepped into a puddle of light and stripped off its robe, tossing it to the floor, then ignited the twin red blades of its saber and took up a defensive posture.

"Well, you wanted a welcoming committee," Obi-Wan said dryly to his companion.

"I would have preferred a droid," Mace growled. "Let's go."

They started forward shoulder to shoulder, spreading out slightly as they neared the Sith. Obi-Wan felt time fold it on itself, and he was once more in the Theed power station where his master had fallen to this creature. Not again, he swore silently as he continued to advance. Never again.

The Sith bared his teeth threateningly. "Still afraid to face me alone, are you, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan held his lit 'saber diagonally across his body. "Surrender, Maul, or we'll be forced to kill you."

The Sith snarled and somersaulted forward, engaging both of the Jedi at once. The blows flew fast and furiously, the smell of ozone filling the air. For several minutes, the opponents were evenly matched.

Obi-Wan parried a vicious diagonal slash and felt perspiration trickling down the small of his back. Beside him, Mace's breathing was becoming harsh, and Obi-Wan noticed to his dismay that the older man was moving slower, clearly still fatigued from his heavily burdened climb to the hanger deck.

Stepping forward, he tried to compensate for Mace's slight but obvious weakness, hoping the Sith wouldn't notice it. But, he did. In a move too fast for the eye to track, Maul spun on one foot, his body bent forward and flattened out with his momentum as he swung his other leg in a wide arc. The heel of his boot caught Obi-Wan a glancing blow above his left eye. It sent him staggering backwards, slicing open his skin and sending a gush of blood pouring down to obscure his vision.

Maul redoubled his attack on Mace, pressing his advantage. The Councilor was driven backward as again and again, red blade met purple. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, his heart stopped for a moment as Mace lost his footing and went down on one knee, his upraised 'saber the only thing preventing him from being sliced in half. The young knight dragged one sleeve across his face to try to clear his vision, then threw himself back into the fray, raining blow upon blow on the Sith as Mace regained his feet.

Together, they forced Maul back toward the glimmering force shield that separated the hanger deck from the cold of space. Obi-Wan knew that if they could force Maul into a corner, he would use an aerial maneuver to get out of it, and they might be able to use that to their advantage. All they needed was a second with the Sith's guard down to finish this.

Finally, the moment came. Obi-Wan sensed it a second before it happened. Maul launched himself into a high somersault, flipping over his opponents' heads, his lightsaber a blur as it spun in a deadly arc.

Obi-Wan parried the blow. Beside him, Mace leaped straight up. His unexpected maneuver drew the Sith's attention, giving Obi-Wan the time he needed. He dropped into a crouch, his 'saber angled upward as Maul descended.

The Sith's eyes widened in surprise, a noiseless shout of agony shaking his body as the blade pierced his torso below his ribcage. The asteroid's artificial gravity pulled him downward until the hilt was pressed against his stomach.

Obi-Wan disengaged his blade, reaching out with his free hand to catch the front of Maul's tunic as he fell. He held the Sith upright and looked into the orange-red eyes that were already beginning to dim.

"Tell me, Sith," he growled. "Are you the master, or the apprentice?"

A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of Maul's mouth as a wet, gurgling chuckle escaped him. "Does it matter?"

Obi-Wan gave the Sith a none-to-gentle shake. "Who are you working with?" he demanded.

Maul's breath hissed in his throat. "You'll find out soon enough, Jedi," he said with his last breath. A moment later, he sagged in Obi-Wan's grip and died.

A cool cloth gently bathing his face woke him. Qui-Gon inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of freshly recycled air. The bed beneath him was firm, the sheets soft and inviting. He was warm, a state he had not enjoyed in. . .

Ten years.

With a gasp, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and levered himself up onto his elbows.

"Easy," Obi-Wan soothed him. He set aside the cloth and touched his hands to Qui-Gon's bare shoulders. "Lie back. You're safe."

"Safe," the older man repeated dumbly. He noticed a cut over Obi-Wan's eye surrounded by bruising. "Are you all right?"

The knight reached up and touched the spot absently, nodding. Then, he began investigating the burn across Qui-Gon's chest, scabbed over now but still tender. Obi-Wan rummaged through the first-aid kit and found a bacta pack, carefully applying it to the injury.

"This looks like a 'saber burn."

Qui-Gon nodded wearily. "It was one of Maul's favorite pastimes. He'd take me out of my cell periodically and hand me my lightsaber. He'd tell me all I had to do was kill him and I could go free."

"That's barbaric!"

"I never stood a chance. He beat me when I was at my best. I'm no match for him now. Especially not with this thing on." He touched the collar with his fingertips.

"You don’t have to worry about the Sith anymore. He's dead."

"Good." Qui-Gon tugged on the collar, as he'd done thousands of times before. "I don't suppose you could remove this now."

Obi-Wan shook his head, a deep frown line forming between his brows. "I think the healers should do that. You've been without the Force for a very long time."

"Too long," Qui-Gon agreed. "I tried to stay in shape at first, tried to exercise. After a while it just seemed – pointless."

"Were you mistreated?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice very soft.

"Do you mean -- did he break me?" Obi-Wan's eyes were the only answer Qui-Gon needed, so he continued. "He would have if not for you. You're the only thing that kept me alive. The memory of you."

"What do you mean?"

He studied Obi-Wan, drinking in his fill of his beloved's form. "You know that I've always told you that your focus determines your reality. When it became clear that I would not escape, I created a new reality for myself. We've lived a life together you and I, more so in these past ten years. Ordinary things, mundane things, and more. Much, much more."

The crystalline eyes that so enchanted him, half shadowed beneath finely arched brows, watched him. He let his gaze wander over Obi-Wan's face. The aristocratic nose was just as Qui-Gon had remembered. And his mouth. The mouth that had given Qui-Gon such pleasure. Without a thought, he pushed himself up again. One hand snaked behind Obi-Wan's neck and drew him close so that Qui-Gon could feast on his lips.

It was glorious! Obi-Wan's lips were as soft and supple as he'd imagined them. They parted, in surprise or in passion, Qui-Gon could not say, but he took advantage of the invitation and touched his tongue to Obi-Wan's lip before entering his mouth.

Obi-Wan tensed in his arms as his hands splayed on Qui-Gon's chest. Abruptly, the younger man broke the kiss and pushed him back down.

"No!" Obi-Wan said as he leaped to his feet. One hand swiped across his mouth as a frown of dismay marred his countenance.

"Obi-Wan?" He sat up, reaching out one hand in appeal.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice filled with shock.

"I – I couldn't help myself," Qui-Gon explained lamely. "It's been so long."

The door opened at that moment and Anakin stuck his head in. "We've made the jump to hyperspace. I just thought..."

He looked from one man to the other then continued hesitantly, "Is something wrong?"

Obi-Wan refused to meet Qui-Gon's gaze as he moved quickly to the door. "You stay with Master Qui-Gon, Anakin. I'll be up front with Mace."

The padawan barely moved aside in time for his master to pass. Clearly puzzled, he slipped into the chair beside Qui-Gon's bunk and propped his elbows on his knees.

"Is something wrong?" Anakin asked again.

Qui-Gon lay back, his eyes directed at the steel gray ceiling, but his mind was filled with the memory of the look on Obi-Wan's face. "I think I've made a terrible mistake."

The russet haired man dropped himself into the co-pilot's chair and propped one foot on the front console. He stared blindly out at the streaking starfield that filled the front viewport.

"We should be landing in three hours," Mace advised, his fingers moving surely over the controls. When Obi-Wan did not acknowledge him, he glanced at the younger man.

Obi-Wan was clearly distressed. One hand scratched agitatedly at his beard as his knee jiggled restlessly. It was behavior more commonly found in padawans than seasoned Jedi knights.

"Did something happen?"

"No." Obi-Wan's reply was brusque and short.

"Obi-Wan?"

Suddenly, the younger man slammed his foot to the deck. "He kissed me!"

"Uh...huh," Mace said slowly as he leaned back in his seat.

"Why would he do that?" Obi-Wan asked, disturbed and unsettled.

"I'd imagine he did it because he's in love with you," Mace said.

A profound look of shock came over Obi-Wan's face as he slowly sank deeper into the co-pilot's seat. "In love?" he asked disbelievingly. "With me?"

"You never knew?" Mace asked gently.

"I had no idea..." his voice trailed off.

"I'm not surprised," the Councilor said gently. He reached over and patted Obi-Wan's arm comfortingly. "Qui-Gon once told me that he felt you were destined to be one of the greatest Jedi knights the Order's ever produced. He wouldn't jeopardize that by revealing his feelings for you."

"He loves me?" Obi-Wan said again, as though his mind was having trouble grasping the concept.

"Yes, he does." Mace said simply.

Obi-Wan scratched at his chin again, lost in thought.

"Perhaps you should meditate on this turn of events," the older man advised him kindly. "You have much to consider."

"Yes." Obi-Wan rose slowly. "I think I'll do that."

Qui-Gon looked away from his analysis of the metal ceiling at the sound of someone entering the cabin. To his disappointment, it was not Obi-Wan.

He forced a smile of greeting. "Hello, Anakin."

"Hello, Master Jinn. How are you feeling?" Anakin asked as he approached the bedside. "Obi-Wan asked me to come in and check on you. Is there anything you need?"

Only my former apprentice, Qui-Gon thought. But aloud he said, "No. I'm fine."

Anakin nodded and slipped into the chair beside the bed. "We're really glad to have you back with us, after all these years. Everyone missed you. Especially Master Obi-Wan."

"Oh?"

"He spoke of you nearly every day," Anakin said. "He's a great master, and most of that is because of you. He's always telling me things that you said to him; words of wisdom, of advice, of comfort, even. He was devastated after you died – er, after we thought you'd died. He mourned for years. I don't think he ever stopped mourning."

So, Qui-Gon wanted to ask, why isn't he here with me, instead of sending you? He choked back the words before they were spoken, but he thought that perhaps Anakin heard them anyway.

"He'd come to visit you, I'm sure, but he's..." His voice trailed off, and he seemed to cast around for something to say. "He's meditating. A lot has happened – Hey, did you know that he and Master Windu killed the Sith?"

It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, but Qui-Gon allowed it. "Which one? There are two, you know, although I never saw the second one."

"They killed the one with the black and red tattoos."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That's the apprentice, Maul. I never found out who his master was."

"That's a shame," Anakin said. "I know my Master and the Council are worried about it."

Qui-Gon didn't answer. Weariness and the backlash of all that had happened was dragging his eyelids down, despite the fact that he wanted to stay awake in case Obi-Wan came to visit.

Not much chance of that, Jinn, he told himself sadly. You may have frightened him away for good.

Beside the bed, Anakin fidgeted, uncomfortable with the silence. Finally, he jumped to his feet with the hastiness of youth. "Well, I'd better let you get some sleep. Obi-Wan will skin me if – well, you need to rest." He turned to leave.

"Anakin?"

The young man looked back at Qui-Gon. "Yes?"

"Tell Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon stopped, his throat constricting, and he had to force himself to continue. "Tell him that I'm sorry."

The padawan cocked his head, obviously curious about the apology, but had the good grace not to ask questions. "I'll tell him." And then he was gone, and Qui-Gon was alone.

Again.

When they landed on Coruscant, a swarm of healers boarded the ship and whisked Qui-Gon away. Obi-Wan remained in the cockpit, apparently, for Anakin and Mace kept glancing that way as if waiting for him to emerge.

He did not.

Vortrella, bless her heart, did all she could do to keep Qui-Gon's mind off of his former apprentice. She treated his wounds with bacta, hooked him up to an IV that fed much needed nutrients into his system, then moved him into a Force-shielded room and removed the hated collar that he had worn for ten long years.

"Will I be able to use the Force again?" he asked, carefully watching her face.

She met his eyes, and he easily read her concern in their violet depths. "Frankly, Qui, I don't know. There's no record of anyone ever having been cut off from the Force for this long a period. But, the blood test shows that your midichlorian count is still quite high, although a bit lower than normal for you. So, there's no obvious physical reason why you won't be just as strong in the Force as you were before."

"But you aren't certain of that."

She drew in a long breath but did him the honor of not breaking eye contact. "No. I’m not certain."

Qui-Gon nodded. One thing he had always treasured about Neesi Vortrella was her honesty, even when the truth hurt. And this time, it did. Having been deprived of the Force for so long, the thought of going even one more day without it was difficult. The thought of spending the rest of his lifetime that way. . .

"Don't dwell on it, Qui," Neesi said firmly. "Isn't that what you'd tell Obi-Wan?"

At the sound of that beloved name, Qui-Gon had to close his eyes to keep his grief and guilt from showing. Neesi, sensitive to his moods even without the aid of the Force to read him, wasn't fooled.

"Look, Qui," she began. "I don't know what has happened between the two of you, and I don't need to know. But I do promise you one thing. Obi-Wan missed you. He missed you very much. Regardless of what is going on now, he's thrilled to have you back."

Qui-Gon forced a chuckle, although it came out sounding more like a sob. "I'm not so sure of that."

She patted his hand. "You need to sleep," she told him, all business once again. "Tomorrow, we'll start gradually reducing the Force shielding, and we'll see how you acclimate. Until then, rest, my friend. And, welcome home."

It was another endless two days before Qui-Gon began to feel somewhere near his old self. He could feel the Force again, although his use of it was rusty and very crude by his former standards. Still, he was assured, with time and practice, he'd once again be at his previous strength.

What amazed the healers, though, and thrilled Qui-Gon, was the fact that he could once again sense the training bond with Obi-Wan. It had thrummed back to life just yesterday. What had at first been a small, somewhat annoying buzzing in the back of his head was now a full-blown if somewhat shaky connection. Obi-Wan was shielding heavily, but Qui-Gon could still feel him. It was heaven. And, it was agony.

That evening, a tingling through the bond let him know that his former apprentice was approaching. Qui-Gon rearranged himself on the bed, adjusting the pillows behind him so that he was sitting straighter, and carefully composed his expression. A moment later, that welcome face appeared at the door. To Qui-Gon's surprise, he was clean-shaven, looking much as he had ten years earlier except for the length of his hair and the absence of his braid.

For a long moment, Obi-Wan didn't speak. Then, he bowed formally, and Qui-Gon's heart constricted within his chest. "May I enter, Master?" Obi-Wan said in a very low voice.

"Of course."

Qui-Gon gestured toward the edge of the bed, but Obi-Wan chose the chair a few feet away instead. He sat there at attention, his eyes flickering around the room, looking everywhere except at the Jedi master.

"Forgive me for not coming sooner," Obi-Wan began, his voice as stiff as his posture.

Qui-Gon waved off the apology. "No apology is necessary, Obi-Wan. You have many responsibilities, I'm sure, with Anakin."

Obi-Wan nodded, and an uncomfortable silence descended again.

Say something, old man, Qui-Gon chided himself. Get him talking.

He took a deep breath. "This seems very familiar, doesn't it?"

Obi-Wan glanced up questioningly, looking lost.

Qui-Gon jerked his chin between the two of them. "This. One of us sitting by a bed in the Healers' Ward while the other recovers from some injury or other."

Obi-Wan nodded again, still silent, and Qui-Gon continued. "It was more often you lying here than me. Why is that, I wonder? As your Master, it was my job to keep you safe, to protect you. Why did I so often fail?"

For a moment, Obi-Wan looked as if he would speak, argue even, but then his lips clamped together tightly. Despite his tight shields, guilt and confusion was rolling off of him in waves.

Qui-Gon sighed. Well, this approach certainly wasn't working. He gazed up at the clean-shaven face, the urge to reach up and stroke his fingers along those smooth cheeks almost overpowering. But he saw the wariness in Obi-Wan's eyes and knew he didn't dare. Instead, he smiled.

"You look exactly like you did on that undercover mission to Nellis Prime. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Obi-Wan said, still sitting at stiff attention in the chair beside the bed. But at least he was speaking.

"We were trying to ferret out the saboteurs who had nearly stopped the planet's export of direnium ore," Qui-Gon said. "And you had let your hair grow out of its padawan cut so that you'd look more like a prospective dealer."

"You mean, so I'd look more like a pirate's assistant," Obi-Wan corrected.

"That, too." Qui-Gon smiled and tilted his head back against the headboard, pleased to see Obi-Wan's tense shoulder muscles relaxing just a bit.

"Do you remember my disguise?" he asked.

"Yes. You dyed your hair flame red. And that false mustache you wore hung down nearly to your chest, even though you kept it double braided."

Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "I hated that thing. It was impossible to eat without it getting in my mouth."

The corners of Obi-Wan's lips twitched in might have been the start of a grin had he not ruthlessly suppressed it.

An apt negotiator for more years than he cared to admit, Qui-Gon was quick to recognize the avenue by which he might break through this awkward foreignness between them. Memories. Memories of their shared life together.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "At least this time, I'm not itching."

Puzzled, Obi-Wan frowned. "Excuse me?"

"One of my worst visits to the Healer's Ward was because a certain padawan of my acquaintance decided to spike my tea with misska root extract." He lifted one brow, then chuckled as a faint blush stained Obi-Wan's freshly shaven cheeks.

"I… uh," the younger man stammered. "Garen said it would only give you a severe case of hiccups, Master. I didn't expect your skin to turn green."

"Green I could have handled. It was the hives that did me in," Qui-Gon replied, one hand scratching at a phantom itch on his stomach. "I never figured out why you did it, though."

"Master," Obi-Wan's voice held a tinge of amusement, though it sounded a bit strained. "You kept putting my boots in the freezer!"

"Ah, yes." The older man nodded, drawing up one leg and draping an elbow over his raised knee. "The infamous 'boots left in the doorway' war. I remember now."

Suddenly, Obi-Wan laughed, his shoulders loosening even more as he relaxed. "You know, I think I'm going to have to try that trick with Anakin."

"Having the same problem, are you?" Qui-Gon grinned at him. "It's an effective strategy, as I'm sure you know. A few times of having to put his feet in frozen boots and he'll gladly put them out of your reach."

He was rewarded with an amused smile in reply, accompanied by the bright twinkle he remembered so well. It touched a place deep inside him. To cover his sudden rush of emotions, Qui-Gon reached for a glass of water on a nearby table, but it was out of his reach.

"Here, let me get that for you." Obi-Wan rose and retrieved the glass, then moved to Qui-Gon's side, offering the glass to him.

"Thank you." He took several large swallows, then handed the container back to his companion and allowed his head to drop back against the headboard, his eyes closing for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, concern evident in his voice. "Do I need to call Vortrella?"

"I'm fine," Qui-Gon reassured him as he met the younger man's gaze.

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan placed the glass back on the table, but still he hovered close.

"Yes, padawan, I'm sure."

"Because, I remember how stubborn you can be, you know," Obi-Wan said as he resumed his seat. He leaned back, propped one foot up on the opposite knee and began toying with the buckle of his boot.

"Me? Stubborn? Never!" Qui-Gon said dramatically, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, right, that was my other master. I forgot."

They both chuckled quietly. A silence rose up between them, but it was not so uncomfortable this time. Rather it was the silence enjoyed by longtime companions. Still, Qui-Gon did not allow it to continue overly long. Instead, he asked about a memory very dear to his heart.

"Do you remember the Regent's ball on Merus Five, the one where you danced with the princess?"

Obi-Wan frowned, his attention turned inward as he thought about it. "Teela? Was that her name?"

Qui-Gon nodded.

"What was I supposed to do, Master? She was crying." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.

"All six of her older sisters had been asked to dance and when no one asked her, she started crying," Qui-Gon reminisced. "Without saying a word to me, you left my side and went over to her. You bowed quite formally before her and asked her to do you the honor of sharing the first waltz."

"I remember," Obi-Wan nodded.

"Her face bloomed like a spring flower," Qui-Gon went on. "She curtsied to you and took your hand, ever inch the regal lady."

"She stood on my feet through the whole dance!" Obi-Wan laughed.

"Well, she was only four years old," Qui-Gon pointed out.

"Thank the Force! Can you imagine how much it would have hurt if she had been an adult?" Obi-Wan grinned cheekily at him.

"When the dance was over, you escorted her back to the dais and you kissed her hand," Qui-Gon said, replaying the image in his mind's eye.

"And that's when she said she was going to marry me someday."

"I hope she's not still waiting!" Qui-Gon teased him gently.

"Hmm." Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. "That could cause some diplomatic problems, couldn't it? It's a good thing you're back. I may need your negotiating skills to get me out of this mess!"

Qui-Gon laughed, his head rocking back against the headboard again. A warmth filled his chest as Obi-Wan's laughter joined his. But, in the next moment, the young man became serious again. Serious, and all too quiet. Qui-Gon sighed.

"Will you allow me to apologize again for what happened on the ship?" he said softly. "I'd like to explain."

Color bloomed over Obi-Wan's cheekbones, and his gaze darted away. "I – would prefer not to speak of it."

"I don't want it coming between us," Qui-Gon insisted. "And, I want you to understand."

Obi-Wan drew a long breath and nodded. "Very well, then. If it'll make you feel better."

Qui-Gon steadied himself. Whatever the result, this was best out in the open. "I've loved you for a very long time, you know."

"I love you too, Master," Obi-Wan said, still toying with his boot buckle and not meeting Qui-Gon's eyes.

"I mean that I've been in love with you for a long time."

Obi-Wan got hastily to his feet and turned away, pacing toward the room's only window.

Qui-Gon frowned. "Is the idea so distasteful to you?"

"No. It's just that..."

"What?"

Obi-Wan swiveled to face him, meeting his eyes for an all too brief moment. "I've never had a relationship of that kind with another man."

"I see," Qui-Gon said softly, watching as Obi-Wan began a serious study of the floor.

After a moment, Obi-Wan began to speak, as if to fill up the silence.

"It's just that – well – I haven't had a lot of time for any relationships. When I was with you, I was so focused on becoming a Knight that it took all of my energy. Then, after you – well, after you were gone, there was Anakin." He broke off and a huge sigh escaped him. "You know how it is with a padawan, Master. Privacy is nonexistent."

"Soooo," Qui-Gon said, drawing the word out. "Are you saying that you're still ---" A spreading gesture of one hand took the place of the final words.

Obi-Wan blushed. "No, that's not what I'm saying. It's just that..." He turned to face the window. "I don't know what I'm saying, it's just something I've never contemplated."

At least it wasn't a no, Qui-Gon told himself. "It would mean a lot to me if you would at least consider it."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Master, what exactly do you want from me?" he said wearily.

"Whatever you can give."

There was a long pause before Obi-Wan approached the bedside again. "I did come to give you something," he said. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a small gold velvet pouch with leather drawstrings. He opened it as he went down onto his knees, head bowed, and recited the ritualized words.

"As I was trained by your hand, and raised up to Knighthood, please accept from my hand this token of my devotion to you and to the Jedi Order." He tipped the bag into Qui-Gon's open palm, and his padawan braid tumbled out, coiled into a small circle, the beads that had marked his growth as a Jedi glistening in the room's soft lighting.

His throat tightening with emotion, Qui-Gon had to struggle to give the expected response. "I accept your gift, and your devotion. Rise, Knight Kenobi, and stand beside your brothers as we serve the Light."

Obi-Wan got to his feet, looking somewhat nervous, and finally met Qui-Gon's gaze. He hesitated for a moment then leaned forward to give his former master the traditional kiss on each cheek.

It was a simple touch, innocuous really. And yet, in one brief moment, it undermined all the progress the two of them had made. Qui-Gon felt his heart drop as Obi-Wan's expression closed off and became shuttered.

"I'd better go," Obi-Wan said, getting to his feet and not meeting Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Obi-Wan--" Qui-Gon began, but the young man cut him off.

"I need time. But, I promise you I'll think about this." With that, he turned toward the door.

Qui-Gon watched him go, wondering if he'd ever return.