Grand Master

by Lilith Sedai

Part 3 - Epilogue

Sunlight reflected off the surface of Coruscant in ragged, faceted bursts, catching millions of windows, an ever-changing illusion of movement that followed the trajectory of the small ship as it descended through the atmosphere.

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan tilted his head toward Qui-Gon, who sat pensive at his console, avoiding the viewscreen as they passed over The Works, smudges of bitter smoke streaming past the hull of the ship.

"I'm well enough," Qui-Gon answered quietly. His time there was behind him now. He glanced up, looking ahead to the Jedi Temple. "I dread this."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "We could have gone on to Xinune, and reported in via holo-transmission."

"No, this needs to be done in person." The terms of the proposed deal with the Djinn must be handled precisely and without equivocation, or the whole carefully constructed bargain might still disintegrate.

"I suspect you're right." Obi-Wan locked them on to the landing beacon at the Temple. "I understand that it's a difficult moment." He reached to ruffle Chattan's fur, and the cat tolerated him, tail-tip twitching slightly.

Obi-Wan withdrew his hand, not pushing his luck, eyeing the cat with a wry grin. "One of these days I'll get you to purr," he told the cat, and Qui-Gon chuckled at them, rising to make his way out to the boarding ramp.

Obi-Wan supervised the landing and then joined him. Qui-Gon tied a leather headband bearing his clan sigil around his head to push back his lengthening hair, just long enough now to dangle inconveniently in front of his eyes if not restrained. He pulled up his hood, settling it carefully over his face.

"That headband will certainly deliver a message about your loyalties to the Council," Obi-Wan observed wryly. "You're carrying your taozin nodule, too, aren't you?" His voice sounded amused. "Well, I suppose that's one way to avoid advertising your triumphant return."

"Do you have yours?"

"I do." Obi-Wan's cheeks pinkened faintly as Qui-Gon gave him a knowing look. "Purely to remain in solidarity with you, of course."

Qui-Gon stretched out his senses, eyes closing for a moment. "Yoda is waiting on the landing platform," he noted. "If we hoped to remain unobserved, he will see to it that we are not."

"Maybe it's part of his job description," Obi-Wan joked, but he raised his own hood, mirroring Qui-Gon. They strode down the ramp together, measuring their steps so that neither surged ahead nor fell behind.

Yoda stood alone, wind tangling his sparse white hair, gazing up at them.

"Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi." Yoda's tone scolded and greeted simultaneously. "An empty ship, another Jedi would think this," he chided them both. "Distress the control technicians, you have."

"My apologies, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon acknowledged blandly.

"Hmmf. Come with me to the Council Chamber." Yoda climbed into his hover chair and led them forward. "Waiting, they are."

They strode through the entry, and the Temple spread out before them-- high, austere ceilings, quiet decor, and soft-treading robed Jedi moving purposefully about the place, each intent on his or her own personal goals.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard, glad of Obi-Wan's calm presence by his side; too many emotions filled him for rapid processing. After sabotaging the archive memories of Kamino, he had never hoped to come here again, not as a Jedi-- at best, as a fugitive and a captive. At worst, as a deadly enemy of the Order, to be tried and executed. He felt keenly uncomfortable here, unwelcome and out of sync with his past. Some fading part of him noted and cataloged weaknesses, ways to attack the Order. He shivered.

Obi-Wan sensed his disquiet and stepped closer. "I'm sure Master Windu is looking forward to this nearly as much as we," he murmured. "Do you suppose he already has a headache?"

Yoda chortled, eavesdropping. "Dreaded this moment, has he, ever since I announced Qui-Gon's reinstatement." He cackled, tapping his claws against the head of his stick. "Good for him, a difference of opinion is."

"We will not compromise on the terms of our bargain," Qui-Gon warned.

"Reviewed your agreement, the Council has. Arrangements have been made, freighters dispatched. The deliveries only await final authorization." Yoda's eyes danced as he glanced up to Qui-Gon. "Tell you this, I should not!"

"You're an incorrigible manipulator," Obi-Wan observed, and Qui-Gon could hear his amusement clearly.

"Much political clout have you now, from defeating the Sith. The truth, Interim Chancellor Valorum knows." Yoda preceded them serenely and activated the tower lift. "Discuss your agreement you will, and try not to antagonize Councilor Windu unnecessarily, yes?"

"Yes, Master Yoda."

They entered the chamber together, lowering their hoods as custom required. Qui-Gon managed to remain calm under the keen stares of the Councilors, but none challenged him.

He stood back and let Obi-Wan present the terms of the agreement-- primarily foodstuffs, seeds and plant cuttings, and livestock in exchange for water, to be collected from the seas of Abhaile and desalinated for use on Coruscant-- and Jedi Agricorps workers, to assess the damage to the environment, and suggest ways to repopulate the native animals that would be needed to maintain the planetary biospheres.

"I think I speak for us all when I say the Council agrees to the terms of this bargain," Windu finally announced, sonorous voice calm. "We will implement it immediately."

"Thank you, Master Windu." Obi-Wan bowed.

As the assembled Councilors nodded their agreement, Windu's eyes slid from Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon, who stood quietly, effaced.

"Welcome back, Master Jinn." His voice was decidedly more guarded, but polite.

"I thank you, Councilor Windu." Qui-Gon bowed. "But I do not plan to linger on Coruscant for long. Much work remains to be done in the Temple on Xinune. I have learned that the clone armies have been deprogrammed-- especially the military orders that were programmed into them, such as Order 66, an order for the clones to assassinate all Jedi on sight, an order I believe Darth Sidious very nearly succeeded in activating before he died."

The Councilors murmured among themselves uneasily at that, and Qui-Gon paused to let the noise die down before continuing. "My sources indicate they are ready to be retrained, but that you have as yet arranged no special use for them."

Yoda shook his head in mock despair and leaned his forehead forward against his stick. Obi-Wan very nearly laughed aloud, converting it to a cough at the last moment.

A single muscle twitched in Windu's temple. "So I am told," he observed, voice cool.

"I would like to request their assistance with a great humanitarian work Knight Kenobi and I have planned. Numerous worlds still need to recover from the predations of the Trade Federation. I already have a command infrastructure in place on many of them. They can direct the clones, who will help the citizens of each world rebuild and work to raise food for themselves. The clones will gradually become integrated into the cultures of the worlds they serve. In this way, they should form a valuable resource for the long-term well-being of the entire Republic."

"This is an excellent idea, and it should solve two problems that have been of great concern to this Council." Ki-Adi Mundi inclined his head with grave respect. "If we are agreed?" He glanced around the Council chamber, receiving nods from all, and a wave of aggravated acceptance from Windu. "I will meet with you holographically to discuss further arrangements, Qui-Gon."

"We look forward to a future of cooperation with the Temple on Coruscant," Qui-Gon agreed mildly, glancing askance at Windu.

"As do we all, I'm sure." Mace rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you any other suggestions?"

Qui-Gon paused, as if to think. "Not at this time," he finally said, tone deliberately magnanimous.

"Excellent." Windu's mouth twisted wryly as he raised his head. "May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon echoed, in unison with Obi-Wan, and they stepped out of the Council Chamber together, riding the lift down into the Temple proper.

"You're impossible," Obi-Wan accused him, eyes sparkling with laughter. "You're going to enjoy driving him insane, aren't you?"

"I always did." Qui-Gon kept his face serene, raising his hood again. "Shall we go?"

"Soon." Obi-Wan chuckled. "We'll have company on our way back to Xinune."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan colored slightly. "While you were negotiating with the Djinn, I was negotiating with Yoda. A general call will go out to the Jedi now, officially announcing the new Temple and its brotherhood to the Temple on Coruscant. Many Jedi are already interested in making it their base, or in working between the two Temples. Now that we've established a humanitarian intent, more will come, I'm certain." Obi-Wan had a faintly abstracted look, as though he were seeing the future-- and perhaps he was. "Yoda has asked to accompany us himself, to oversee the establishment of our Council. He believes his overt approval will help lend our facility additional legitimacy."

"And give him an implicit position of influence on Xinune, as well," Qui-Gon commented, cynical but tolerant.

"As it should be," Obi-Wan agreed mildly. "Would you like to go by our old quarters and pick anything up? I left your possessions undisturbed there," he admitted. "I suppose I always hoped you'd return."

Qui-Gon smiled. "We may need them again one day. For now? I have the only thing I need right here beside me."

Obi-Wan flushed quite beautifully, which made Qui-Gon wish they were not in a public corridor. It was more difficult than he'd expected, finding the right moment for what he wanted. Obi-Wan felt it, too, he knew-- the constraint to wait until nothing else would intrude, venturing only chaste kisses and gentle embraces until then, banking the growing heat between them and waiting for the right moment to indulge it fully.

"We'll be home soon," Obi-Wan said softly, perceiving his thought.

"Not soon enough." Qui-Gon led them back toward the docking platform, glad when none of the other Jedi approached them. Now that he had been officially accepted back into the Order, there would be time enough to renew old acquaintances; for the moment, he preferred to keep to his solitude with Obi-Wan.

"This place could use more light. And some greenery." Obi-Wan looked about. "It's more oppressive than I'd ever realized, and weak in the Living Force."

"It fits with the culture on Coruscant," Qui-Gon agreed. "The Living Force is weak all over the planet. It needs plants and animals, natural landscapes and running water, in order to manifest properly."

"Maybe that's one reason it wasn't possible for the Councilors to use the Force to discover Palpatine."

"Perhaps." Qui-Gon considered the idea. "The Unifying Force also works best when properly balanced."

Obi-Wan nodded absently, his mind already running elsewhere as they reached the landing platform and keyed the ramp to enter Tiran's ship. "Do you truly think it was wise to appoint Majnun as the liaison between the Djinn and the Republic?"

"He has the most experience dealing with offworlders, and he's a shrewd leader. He values his kin above anything else," Qui-Gon explained. "Not only do I think he's the right man to look out for the Djinn's interests, but I suspect he'll be chosen to represent Abhaile in the Senate soon, after the clans discover that not all offworlders are as untrustworthy as the Hutts and decide to petition for membership."

"Kelonaht won't like it."

"He's a bully, but he's only one man-- and he leads only one clan, a much smaller one than the wealthy equatorial clans." Never mind that Majnun's clan was also small; he was smarter than Kelonaht, and more resourceful.

"Nevertheless," Obi-Wan studied Qui-Gon thoughtfully, "he expected you to pursue the issue of your clan's destruction, and so did I. It's possible that he participated in the raid that killed your parents, you know," Obi-Wan pressed. Qui-Gon recognized that he was being tested, but he did not resent it.

"That is in the past, and he will have to satisfy the Force's justice. I do not need to be its agent, I think." Qui-Gon shrugged, dismissing a flicker of lingering anger over his family's fate.

"I can't change what was done, but my success in the river's heart cost Kelonaht a good deal of status among the clan chiefs. Now that Sala's influence has grown due to our alliance, I think the amount of harm Kelonaht can cause even in his domain will be limited. If not? Sala knows how to reach me." He smiled, letting just a hint of satisfaction show. "And I think Kelonaht is aware of that."

"You have set aside your anger at Kelonaht and Failbhe," Obi-Wan observed quietly. "Do you still intend to pursue vengeance against Dramacore?"

"No," Qui-Gon said softly. "My anger toward them is forgotten, now that you are with me once more."

"I don't want to be your weakness," Obi-Wan said quietly.

"I think the Force desired my anger with Dramacore. If I had not pursued them, I would not have discovered that Palpatine was Darth Sidious. After I discovered that, revenge no longer mattered." Qui-Gon stepped closer to Obi-Wan's side. "And perhaps you are my weakness, but you are also my strength."

"That's a better way to think of it." Obi-Wan's eyes met his, warm and peaceful.

The ramp locked down and they began to climb, meeting Chattan at the top. The cat wrinkled his nose at the scent of the air, and Qui-Gon chuckled, scooping him up and ruffling his ears.

"I still think that beast will shred me one day," Obi-Wan said ruefully.

"He likes you," Qui-Gon corrected him patiently, trying not to smirk. "He's just jealous."

Obi-Wan laughed all the way to the cockpit, where they learned that Yoda would be boarding shortly, and obtained clearance for departure prior to his arrival.

Yoda arrived soon after the Council session ended, growing very cross with Chattan, who kept twining around him as he tried to move about the ship, head-butting him nearly hard enough to knock him down, and purring.

"I suppose Chattan likes Master Yoda better than he likes me?" Obi-Wan asked as they cleared the atmosphere and neared their departure point.

"He likes you both very well, but he isn't jealous of Yoda," Qui-Gon said serenely, and Obi-Wan was laughing yet again as he pulled back the throttle and the stars streaked into infinity.

If Qui-Gon had thought his return to Coruscant nerve-wracking, coming out of hyperspace by Xinune taught him better. The sense of jittery agitation very nearly felt as if he were being devoured alive by insects.

When he had left, there was only the facility and its potential: the Palazzo, his plans, his arrangements, and an uncertain future. Now he could sense the place, and how it had grown-- even from orbit, he could feel the questing, purposeful minds that waited there, the Jedi who half-expected him to lead them.

A tap at his door stirred him from his worries. "Come in," he called, unsurprised to see Yoda waiting when the door slid aside.

"You are afraid," Yoda observed, hobbling in to stand at Qui-Gon's side.

"Yes," he said simply. "I can feel them waiting: so many souls. So many futures to control. How do you bear the responsibility?"

"Their own to bear, much of this responsibility is, and the control. Not yours." Yoda shook his head fondly. "But yes. Responsibility you have, to guide them as best you can. Sometimes will come success, sometimes failure. Always guilt when you fail. Always pride when they achieve." Yoda tapped Qui-Gon's thigh with his gimer stick. "Not alone are you. Advice, I can give, when you seek it. And Obi-Wan has much wisdom to offer."

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed quietly. "In spite of me. In spite of everything."

Yoda's eyes sparkled. "False modesty is this? And what of my own teaching?"

"Whatever events and teachings have shaped him, he is a greater Jedi than I ever hoped." Qui-Gon reached out again, sensing anew the hearts and minds that waited.

"Some will use their pain and grow wise, like Obi-Wan, and others will be destroyed by it and fall, like Xanatos. It is the way of the Force." Yoda considered him thoughtfully. "Come," he suggested. "Much that you have worked for will now come to pass."

Qui-Gon followed him out to the cockpit, watching as they descended across the ocean and docked in the cliffside hangar-- where he was glad to see his old ship, retrieved and awaiting him.

Obi-Wan finished his post-flight shutdown and rose, and the three of them went out into the near-abandoned hangar.

"If I know Gida, the entire compound is waiting to greet us in the main hall." Obi-Wan chuckled. "We're just in time for dinner."

"If we take the lift directly to the living quarters, we can escape the gathering." He noted that Obi-Wan ignored him, choosing the main hall as their destination floor. Yoda cackled to himself, and he elected to let it pass unremarked.

"You'll have to make a speech at dinner, too. But you've never had any difficulty finding something to say." Obi-Wan winked at him.

"Why do I have a feeling that I am going to be a figurehead in my own Temple?"

Obi-Wan just smirked and stood aside as the lift opened, revealing the main hall, stairways and floors filled with Jedi and members of the staff-- and the royal family.

"Tiran!" Qui-Gon forgot his nerves, stepping forward to embrace the King, ignoring Queen Ashea's scowl-- he had not known whether to expect them to attend his arrival. "Brilliant work with the Separatists, though I should turn you over my knee for it."

"It's good to have you back, Qui-Gon." Tiran grinned at him. "I'm much less glad to see Obi-Wan, but I suppose I'll have to put up with him, too." The warmth of the hug he bestowed on Obi-Wan made a lie of his words, and Qui-Gon was pleased that the two had resolved their differences.

Gida stood nearby, quivering with excitement, her sense of duty holding her back; Qui-Gon gave her a smile and Obi-Wan winked, and she stepped forward, clasping each of their hands in turn.

"Welcome back. I've made your favorites. And welcome, Master Yoda. I have something special prepared for you, as well."

"Now you see the real leader of the Xinune Temple," Qui-Gon inclined his head at her, and Yoda nodded firmly.

"Wisdom, you speak." His ears tilted up as much as Qui-Gon had ever seen them. "Eat, we should, before the food is cold. Yes?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon raised his voice, aware of the curiosity of the Jedi, and feeling undercurrents of their uncertainty, much like his own. They needed him to be strong and certain in this moment, and so he would be.

"Thank you all for coming. I'm honored to see so many of you here, and I look forward to the work we will do together." It seemed to be all that was needed; smiles and approval radiated from the crowd, a heady sensation that allowed him relief. "Let's go in to the refectory." He pushed the door aside, allowing the Jedi to enter.

When everyone was inside, they remained standing, looking to him. He searched the crowd, seeing many faces, including the places that should have been filled by those who were missing, lost on Geonosis or before, their absence painful to him-- he spied Bant Eerin, and could no longer escape the memory of Tahl, and his own guilt in her death.

She gazed at him soberly, and he stepped forward to her, reaching tentatively for her hand.

She accepted, and he squeezed her fingers gently, sensing her forgiveness. He knew he would always be unworthy of it, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. "Your master is the first and greatest hero of this Order," he told her quietly, his voice husky with sorrow. "I will commemorate her with a statue in the gardens, and she will never be forgotten. Each year when we celebrate the founding of this Temple, we will also mourn her loss and celebrate her life."

A tear slid over Bant's cheek, and he crushed her to him in an apologetic hug, feeling his own eyes threaten to overflow. It was not enough; it could never be enough. But he would do what he could.

Obi-Wan's hand fell on his shoulder, and he released Bant, who managed a watery smile, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

Obi-Wan smiled at Bant, then tugged gently at Qui-Gon, guiding him toward the head table.

The head chair was empty, waiting for him. Obi-Wan stepped aside; he and Yoda stood behind the chairs at either side of it, waiting.

Qui-Gon took the chair back between his hands, feeling the solid posts smooth against his palms, and surveyed the group again, their expectant faces, their calm, competent potential.

He felt himself smile, his heart filling. "Tomorrow, with the oversight of Grand Master Yoda of the Coruscant Temple, we will gather to elect our own Council, and the Council will choose our leadership. The Force will be with us," he said simply, and when he sat, they all followed him.

It seemed the meal would last forever, but he hardly tasted it amidst the welcomes and the questions and the new business that must be attended: three Djinn families had already contacted the Xinune Temple, asking for his help with their Force-sensitive children. A facility and training would have to be readied for them immediately.

There were dozens of other matters, as well, urgent business that occupied him long after the meal was finished. Gida wanted authorization to buy or lease land to raise food rather than buying it, and additional staff must be hired for cleaning and maintenance, and meetings scheduled with diplomats, and missions assigned to assist field operatives too long left to their own devices, and Mundi was eager to discuss the deployment of several hundred thousand clones. Finis Valorum wanted his approval on a proposal to create a nature preserve on Chandar, so that the arranhar need not ever fear capture again.

"Tell me there are other candidates for Grand Master?" He raised weary eyes to Obi-Wan, who was busy at his own comm panel. "I could recuse myself from the selection before it begins."

"I think you're stuck with it." Obi-Wan rubbed his neck, stifling a yawn. "And you wouldn't have it any other way."

Qui-Gon raised a forbidding brow at him, but couldn't restrain the humor that curved his mouth.

"I believe I've put out all the fires that required my immediate attention." Obi-Wan shut off the comm. "And you?"

"I have a few more messages to send."

Obi-Wan rose, stretching slowly, arms over his head, the long lines of his robe flowing gently around his body. "Don't be too long," he said, and his level gaze met Qui-Gon's, soft with promise.

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his chest. "I won't."

Obi-Wan slipped out, pausing only to let his palm caress the line of Qui-Gon's arm and shoulder before he went.

Qui-Gon sat, staring sightlessly at his comm terminal, trying to recall what he had been doing, completely unable to gather his thoughts. His body was aflame, his thoughts in shambles.

Slowly he closed the files where he had been working, watching his hands as if they were not his own, distantly noting the tremor in his fingers.

He rose, returning the greetings of friends as he went out, mounting the stair toward the upper levels. Chattan joined him at the landing, pacing proudly in his wake, tail daintily aloft, a noiseless shadow. It was already dark, the glass ceiling scattered with stars, the scent of flowers muted. The Jedi he passed smiled and nodded, but let him go onward without delay until he reached his rooms.

He keyed the door, drawing a deep breath, but his room was empty, the coverlet pulled back on his bed. Something lay on his pillow.

When he investigated, he found a foot-long coil of braided hair lying there-- Obi-Wan's padawan braid, kept for him. He picked it up, touching it to his lips-- another honor he hardly deserved. His eyes closed, and he battled tears for a long moment, then carried the braid to his desk, gently arranging it on the shelf where he could see it every day when he sat down.

The room seemed all but unchanged; he glanced at the door that led to his meditation room, wondering if Obi-Wan had found the gifts Qui-Gon once left for him there.

They would not be needed tonight, regardless.

A pleasant shiver chased itself through his spine, and he shouldered out of his robe, laying it over the back of his chair, then loosened his belt and removed his tunics, putting them aside to be laundered. He left his boots by the bed, padding into the bath, and showered carefully, taking extra time and care to cleanse himself, but he did not indulge his body's desire, content to wait.

The door between his rooms and Obi-Wan's had opened by the time he emerged, wearing only a white absorbent robe. There was no sign of the cat. The lights were out, the windows clear, and his fireplace was lit, flames flickering brightly, the only illumination in the room.

He sensed Obi-Wan's presence only a moment before Obi-Wan touched him, taking the brush from his fingers and the towel from his hair.

"Do you plan to let your hair grow long again?" His voice was low and sensual.

"Yes." Qui-Gon answered, sitting down to let Obi-Wan tend him.

"Good." Obi-Wan tousled his hair with the towel to dry it, brushed it out, and tousled it again. "I like it that way."

Qui-Gon purred a nonverbal answer, loving the feel of Obi-Wan's fingers on his head through the towel, and the scratch of the rough brush against his scalp.

When his hair was dry enough, he rose, turning to Obi-Wan, and found him freshly washed but still clad in all his layers, excepting only his boots.

"I thought you might like to undress me." Obi Wan smiled at him, blushing faintly, then looked past him, to the coil of his braid lying on Qui-Gon's desk, his eyes warming with approval.

"I'd enjoy that very much." Qui-Gon slid his fingers inside Obi-Wan's robe, easing it back and off his shoulders, letting it drop. Obi-Wan's eyes followed him, pupils dark; he stood close, lifting his arms to allow Qui-Gon to unwrap his belt and sash, graceful and lithe. Qui-Gon's heart hammered, but he forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, peeling each garment away individually and folding it carefully before setting it aside.

By the time he slid his hands under the final layer of tunics, Obi-Wan was breathing harshly, the low gush of air hot against Qui-Gon's skin as he leaned in to taste the warm, clean skin at the hollow of Obi-Wan's throat.

He paused there, kissing his way along Obi-Wan's collar bone, letting his hands explore the strong-muscled back and lean waist, then venture below his waistband, settling on the firm muscles of Obi-Wan's ass and dragging Obi-Wan up tight against him.

Obi-Wan moaned softly, tipping his head back, and Qui-Gon took advantage of the movement to kiss and nip along the strong lines of his throat, almost unable to believe that this was real-- that they were here, at last, free to love each other as both had wanted for many lonely years.

He was unimaginably beautiful, gilded by firelight, his hair like flame, holding Qui-Gon so carefully it almost seemed Obi-Wan thought he might break.

The only craft Qui-Gon had ever developed at this was either solitary or based in imagination; he felt oddly shy, inadequate, and uncertain how best to please the beautiful man in his arms. He hesitated, covering his nerves by peppering Obi-Wan with slow, aching kisses, mapping his face and throat, until Obi-Wan caught his hands and gently urged him to peel down his leggings.

They slid down to his knees and Obi-Wan stepped out of them, the play of his lean muscles making Qui-Gon's breath hitch in his throat. Then he reached for Qui-Gon impatiently, untying the belt of his robe and flicking it off his shoulders with a rapid, urgent gesture, letting it fall to the floor unheeded.

His eyes drank greedily of Qui-Gon's body, and Qui-Gon made himself stand still and allow it without showing his shyness, feeling his face heat under the pressure of the frank regard. Obi-Wan's chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes kindling, and Qui-Gon was caught off-guard as he dove in, crushing their bodies together and seeking Qui-Gon's mouth.

His tongue probed for entry, hot and insistent, and Qui-Gon granted it, his own passion swelling to meet Obi-Wan's, which prodded eagerly against his belly. He shifted, reaching to align them, and Obi-Wan groaned into his mouth, tongue stroking into him sweetly, as Qui-Gon's hand closed around both their cocks.

Though he knew his own shaft well, the feel of Obi-Wan was still new and surprising to him-- velvet silk over hardness intoxicatingly hot, slippery with moisture at the tip. He could not resist the urge to explore, testing the swollen shaft and the wiry hair at its base, rolling Obi-Wan's balls slowly in his palm. Hesitance fading, he let himself enjoy the sensation of Obi-Wan's shaft in his hand, and listen to Obi-Wan's soft whimpers, to kiss Obi-Wan and feel how much he was undone by just this simple manipulation.

He tore his mouth away suddenly, breath harsh in his chest-- he wanted so much he could not choose: he wanted to topple Obi-Wan onto the mattress and ravish him, wanted to stand passive and see what Obi-Wan would do, wanted to let his beloved devour him and show him. He wanted to fill his mouth with Obi-Wan, to feel Obi-Wan inside him, to do everything he could imagine.

Obi-Wan laughed softly, sensing his dilemma, and pressed at his shoulders, walking him back to the bed and pushing him down onto it. The firelight cast tantalizing shadows over his body; his eyes deep and dark.

More than anything, Qui-Gon realized, he wanted to give Obi-Wan everything, more pleasure than he had ever dreamed.

Qui-Gon reached blindly, catching Obi-Wan's shaft, and bent his head, clumsily taking the tip in his mouth, licking and tasting salt. He shivered, hands sliding behind Obi-Wan's ass, pulling him forward, between Qui-Gon's knees.

"You're too tall to do it this way," Obi-Wan protested, smiling. "You'll hurt your neck."

Qui-Gon ignored him and slid to his knees, just as Obi-Wan had done for him.

"That's bett-- oh!" Obi-Wan cried out, a strangled shout, and it was better. He slid all the way down Obi-Wan's stiff shaft, glad of the solitary practices that would help him please his lover, savoring the heat of him, loving the whimpering gasp his sudden motion dragged from Obi-Wan's throat. He swallowed around Obi-Wan, forcing that ragged cry from him again, and bobbed over the shaft in his mouth, sucking hard.

Obi-Wan's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling; he looked up to meet Obi-Wan's pleasure-dazed eyes, and his cock surged at the sight. He slowed, sliding his mouth down and back up again once more, watching the way Obi-Wan swallowed convulsively, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He held the shaft in the palm of his hand, pulling off, and dragged his cheek against it, smearing the wetness of his own mouth on his face. Obi-Wan's hands clenched to fists, his head tipping back.

Looking up at him, Qui-Gon understood, suddenly, precisely how he wanted this to go.

He kissed the strong young cock, again and again, his eyes sliding shut, scenting Obi-Wan's musk, one hand kneading Obi-Wan's muscular ass. "Please," he heard himself murmur over and over again, almost inaudible, wanting so much the power of it nearly cracked him into splinters. He had taken; he had accepted pleasure, but he'd never been had-- never been possessed and filled, never surrendered himself up. Never been taken.

It was time to give himself.

He raised his eyes, pleading, nuzzling at Obi-Wan's belly, then rose, sliding into the bed and drawing Obi-Wan down after him. He lay on his back and pulled Obi-Wan over him, parting his thighs to accept Obi-Wan's solid weight, turning his head to the side and offering up his throat even as he pulled Obi-Wan down to kiss him.

"Yes," Obi-Wan purred, and he did, gracefully taking control. He devoured Qui-Gon's throat, one hand on his jaw, holding his head still, mouth both soft and hard, marking him. Qui-Gon writhed under the force of the kisses, the delicate bites; Obi-Wan's cock burned him like a brand, and he thrust against it mindlessly until Obi-Wan slid down and he lost its touch.

He heard himself whimper a protest, but all sense fled his mind when Obi-Wan's mouth sealed over his ringed nipple, and sharp white teeth worried the hard flesh, sending sensation crackling through Qui-Gon like lightning.

He arched, bucking up with all his might, but Obi-Wan rode him, teeth precise and savage, sending flare after flare of pleasure arcing straight to his cock. Obi-Wan's nails found his other nipple and dug in, twisting, and he heard himself scream, his fingers knotting in the sheets, ripping them with a low purring hiss as he exploded without warning, coming so hard his vision went white, pain and pleasure indistinguishable as he lost himself.

He rediscovered self-awareness slowly; his throat harsh and raw, every muscle quivering and disobedient. Obi-Wan lapped softly at his chest and belly, cleaning him, tongue as gentle as his teeth had been fierce.

"Obi-Wan--!" he husked, and felt his lover smile against his skin. Obi-Wan raised himself, feline in his grace, his eyes intent, predatory with lust as he studied Qui-Gon.

He withdrew for a moment, reaching to the bed-table, and Qui-Gon watched hazily as he wrapped a narrow leather strap about the base of Qui-Gon's cock and his balls, pulling it tight through the buckle.

Qui-Gon moaned at the rough constriction of the leather, sinking his teeth in his lip as Obi-Wan cinched it another notch tighter, not letting him lose any more of his half-faded erection. "Shhh," Obi-Wan soothed him, hand warm on his belly. "I want you to come again, but not before we're ready." He leaned in, kissing Qui-Gon, his mouth rich and bitter; Qui-Gon accepted it eagerly, trying to lift his head to pursue Obi-Wan's kisses when he pulled away.

"Roll over." Obi-Wan pressed against his shoulder, and Qui-Gon let himself be moved, still lazy and uncoordinated from his orgasm.

Obi-Wan's mouth trailed over his shoulders, kissing and nipping, and trailed along his spine, tongue drawing silky patterns against his skin, mouth blowing cool air over it and making him shiver. His weight pressed Qui-Gon into the sheets, and Qui-Gon luxuriated in it, shifting his hips to ease his cock, which lay trapped beneath his body.

Obi-Wan took his time, savoring every inch of Qui-Gon's back; by the time he reached Qui-Gon's ass, Qui-Gon could feel blood swelling his shaft again, slow and lazy like Obi-Wan's tongue. He shifted his thighs so that Obi-Wan's chest fit between them, trying to breathe, waiting for what he knew would come next. He was not disappointed; Obi-Wan licked along the cleft and then blew softly, tickling the fine hairs there and making Qui-Gon shiver.

Then Obi-Wan's hands opened him, and he buried his face in the pillow to stifle his moans as Obi-Wan's tongue slid wickedly down, centimeter by centimeter, teasing him with promise. He pushed back, begging, only to be thwarted; Obi-Wan blew over his entrance, and he felt himself clench and pulse with frustration.

"So greedy." Obi-Wan's voice was sultry, rich with passion. Obi-Wan kissed him just there, butterfly soft; Qui-Gon whimpered and received another teasing brush of lips, and then a flutter of wet tongue.

"Please, Obi-Wan!" He could articulate nothing else, it seemed, except broken noises of pleasure.

Obi-Wan kissed him again, more firmly, and Qui-Gon struggled to his knees, frustrated by his lack of control, his inability to move. Obi-Wan moved with him, warm breath along the cleft of his ass, strong hands helping position and brace his thighs.

"Mmmm, yes," Obi-Wan murmured, and licked him harder, a long wet slide from his entry to his balls. Qui-Gon groaned, rotating his hips, pushing up and balancing on elbows and forearms. Every touch of Obi-Wan's mouth and breath quivered through him; his cock dangled free, its leather binding taut, so taut as to be intensely uncomfortable, pushing his balls up around the base of his cock.

Obi-Wan kissed it, licking around the leather strap, nipping at his balls. The unexpected sting of his teeth made Qui-Gon gasp, a noise that was embarrassingly close to a squeak. He struggled for composure, suddenly embarrassed at his neediness, embarrassed at the position, which left him wide open and exposed, completely at Obi-Wan's mercy.

He tried to shift his thighs, but Obi-Wan's hands held him open, thumbs parting the cheeks of his ass and sliding into the creases of his thighs, resisting his attempt. Obi-Wan's face moved close, letting him feel the gust of his breath, and then pressing a whisper of lips against his ass, kissing the crease, licking the kiss, biting the wet spot where his tongue touched.

Qui-Gon shook, helpless, waiting-- and the wet tongue teased him again, circling the entrance to his body, slow and torturous. Obi-Wan hummed with pleasure, and Qui-Gon sensed his intent a moment before he moved-- tongue touching with purpose, tickling, pressing inward.

"Yes, now, please, oh Force--" he heard himself begin to babble, pleas and exhortations, half-articulated endearments, ludicrous in the mouth of a Jedi Master, but all he could really spare attention for was the wet flame spearing him, opening him by slow, velvet degrees. Obi-Wan's breath ruffled against his skin, and the wet, delightful mouth sealed over him, Obi-Wan's tongue fucking him open with slow, measured strokes-- on and on, patient and wicked as it twisted and turned, undoing all his control and destroying defenses he'd never even been conscious of.

He collapsed into the pillow again, shuddering, face wet with tears-- glad of the leather strap that bound him. His cock was already alight with sensation, so hard it quivered, the discomfort of the strap balancing the liquid-hot pleasure of Obi-Wan's tongue dancing inside him.

When Obi-Wan withdrew, lingering to brush a single wet kiss against him, he very nearly mewled with disappointment, but he had only a moment to wait before Obi-Wan's finger replaced his mouth, slick with gel.

Qui-Gon shuddered as it pushed into him, a slow, patient glide, until Obi-Wan's knuckles rested firmly against his perineum, the finger as far inside as it would go.

Obi-Wan waited, patient, until Qui-Gon shifted his hips, shoving back with urgent annoyance; he braced Qui-Gon with his free hand and slid his finger out, then back in again, testing Qui-Gon's resistance before pressing the boundaries farther.

Against his will, Qui-Gon remembered-- remembered the Dramacore holos, remembered Obi-Wan's care and control even under coercion, and understood something of the strength that made him so patient now, the self-control and awareness, developed in a crucible of torment.

"Yes," he moaned, not wanting any ambiguity or uncertainty. "More."

Obi-Wan nuzzled him in silent answer, beard crisp and warm against his ass, and carefully introduced a second finger. Finding it went in easily, he ventured a third.

It had been too long since Qui-Gon practiced his katas, and the third finger burned, stretching him. Qui-Gon struggled up to his elbows again, arms shaking, needing to move, needing to help his body adapt by exerting the small degree of control he still possessed.

Obi-Wan fell still inside him, waiting, letting him acclimate. After a few moments, Qui-Gon rocked his hips, shifting the fingers inside himself; Obi-Wan answered with the slightest thrust and retreat, increasing it by gentle gradations until his fingers moved easily inside Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon could feel sweat trickling along his ribs, his muscles taut with strain and anticipation; he pushed his hips back firmly, and Obi-Wan answered by crooking his fingers, letting the tips curl against the sensitive spot inside.

Qui-Gon bucked up with a strangled gasp, wanting to see Obi-Wan's face. "On my back now," he husked. "I need to see you." Obi-Wan withdrew his hand, wiping it on the torn top sheet, and helped Qui-Gon turn over, settling him amidst the tangle of blankets and pillows, arranging one under his hips.

That was better; he could see Obi-Wan now, his skin gleaming slick with sweat, his face soft, expression abstract, lips curved in the faintest fond smile as he looked down at Qui-Gon. He could watch as Obi-Wan knelt, moving between his thighs; he could see the tenderness and the desire in that beloved face as Obi-Wan arranged his legs, hooking Qui-Gon's knees over his elbows and moving forward, positioning himself, then hesitating, looking at Qui-Gon's face.

"My Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon reached with a trembling hand, sliding his fingertips over Obi-Wan's narrow chest, touching the peak of one stiffened nipple.

"Qui-Gon. Master," Obi-Wan breathed, and pressed forward slowly, exhaling, his lashes fluttering shut, his mouth falling open. He sheathed himself fully, a long, slow glide that left them both gasping and trembling.

Qui-Gon tried to drag a deep breath into his lungs and failed, laboring for air as though drowning. He ran his hands restlessly across his own chest and belly, struggling to come to terms with the sensation inside his body, which only intensified with every breath he drew. He couldn't hold still, squirming helplessly, his cock and balls blazing with the frantic need to come, the leather strap binding him, preventing him from succumbing.

Obi-Wan held himself very still, poised, his eyes raking over Qui-Gon dazedly, as if he had forgotten where he was and who he was with-- or as if he were struggling to contain his passion, to keep his body in check, long enough to memorize the picture of Qui-Gon writhing on his cock.

Slowly he began to move, his muscles flexing, and Qui-Gon whispered his name again-- "Obi-Wan!" reaching out to hook his hands behind his own knees, helping Obi-Wan support the heavy weight of his legs.

Obi-Wan pressed forward, bending his waist, pushing his legs back, and Qui-Gon accepted his weight.

"There," he gasped, when Obi-Wan found just the right angle, and Obi-Wan shifted, supporting himself, then withdrew and pushed in. Qui-Gon hissed, air escaping through his teeth, his fingers digging into the soft flesh behind the backs of his own thighs.

His hands freed, Obi-Wan reached, tweaking Qui-Gon's nipple again, and Qui-Gon threw his head back with a sharp cry, the flesh hypersensitive. Obi-Wan yelped as Qui-Gon's body clenched him, then smiled, sensually triumphant, and began to thrust.

Intense, burning waves of pleasure lapped over Qui-Gon; he rocked into Obi-Wan's rhythm, losing himself in the heat of his eyes. So good, slow and powerful, Obi-Wan's body moving smoothly as he paced himself, building speed gradually until Qui-Gon was rocking hard beneath him, moaning softly at each press of Obi-Wan's hips, lost in wonder at the expression on Obi-Wan's face: tender, yearning lips and burning eyes, tendrils of hair plastering to his forehead and his temples.

He watched as Obi-Wan began to quiver, then abruptly stopped moving, tongue flickering out to wet his lips, and drew a long shuddering breath, mastering himself and absorbing the sensation, then paused for a lengthy count and started again-- slow once more, deliberate, building pleasure anew with his lack of haste.

His thighs trembling, Qui-Gon locked his ankles behind Obi-Wan's back, shifting them both and freeing his hands; again, Obi-Wan began to speed his strokes, catching his lip between his white teeth, thumbs rubbing over Qui-Gon's nipples, and again he stopped himself just before the crest, licking sweat from his own lips, his hands clenching to fists on Qui-Gon's belly as he struggled for control.

"Beautiful," Qui-Gon murmured. "So beautiful, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan bent and kissed him, nearly pulling out; Qui-Gon strained his neck to reach the kiss, which ended all too soon due to the uncomfortable angle.

This time Obi-Wan fucked him harder, still slow at first, hips stabbing forward with sharp, purposeful jerks, and Qui-Gon lost his ability to watch, falling into himself as each snap of Obi-Wan's hips blazed searing ecstasy across nerves already strung taut, near to bursting. He reached out, fingertips stroking every part of Obi-Wan that he could reach-- face and throat, chest and belly, sharp hipbones, the place where their bodies joined. Obi-Wan responded, moving faster, pushing harder, until Qui-Gon was forced to brace himself against the headboard. His cock, flushed angry purple, leaked against his belly, but he did not free the strap, trusting in Obi-Wan's providence.

This time Obi-Wan did not stop. He kept thrusting, mouth falling open, tiny, helpless sounds emerging from his throat. He reached for Qui-Gon's legs, pushing them higher until Qui-Gon could barely breathe. Their bodies slapped together sharply as he thrust, his rhythm starting to fail as pleasure overtook him, his gasps growing louder, hoarse in his throat, until he surged forward with a last powerful shove and lost himself, shuddering deep inside Qui-Gon's body. Spasms wracked him, holding him frozen in time for a long moment.

Qui-Gon watched his bliss with awe, engraving it all on his mind as deeply as he could-- Obi-Wan's expression, broken open and vulnerable, pure love and sweetness in his eyes; his lips, mottled red from the pressure of his own teeth; the gleam of sweat on his skin; the disarray of his hair; the way his nostrils flared and his throat worked as he came, totally lost in his pleasure; the way his body hitched and his muscles trembled; the way his strength deserted him in his extremity and he collapsed slowly atop Qui-Gon, all but boneless.

Qui-Gon murmured broken love words to him, feeling their bodies separate as Obi-Wan softened, and he rolled them to their sides so that he could lower his legs before they cramped. Enveloping Obi-Wan in his embrace, he kissed him over and over, marveling at the way Obi-Wan's strength had turned fluid all at once, leaving him pliant and undone.

Obi-Wan lay in his arms for a long moment, content to be kissed, before moving his hand to Qui-Gon's belly, circling it loosely around his cock. "What have we here?" His voice was low and sultry, his eyes sparkling with humor. His fingers worked the buckle, releasing the strap, and Qui-Gon sighed as Obi-Wan pressed him to his back again.

"I think I'd better do something about this," Obi-Wan nipped at Qui-Gon's lips, then pushed himself up, hands splayed across Qui-Gon's chest. "Hold it up for me."

Qui-Gon obeyed, sliding his hand under Obi-Wan's thigh and bracing his shaft; Obi-Wan moved into position lazily and sank down-- already prepared, slick and ready for Qui-Gon. He came to rest against Qui-Gon's legs, heaving a slow, languorous sigh.

Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's thighs, his hands unsteady; Obi-Wan was tight and sweet and perfect around him, holding his full length easily.

Obi-Wan rode Qui-Gon leisurely, his lashes heavy, his every movement filled with delicious, sensual lassitude. Qui-Gon pushed up patiently, meeting the rocking of Obi-Wan's lithe body, content to let his second orgasm build more slowly than the first. He bent his knees and braced his heels on the bed, tilting Obi-Wan forward, and Obi-Wan sighed with pleasure, reaching to catch Qui-Gon's hands and lace their fingers together so he could balance himself against Qui-Gon's hands.

"So good." Obi-Wan's eyes shone, soft aqua in the firelight, pupils deep and dark. He added a subtle shimmy to his motions, which made Qui-Gon shiver and push up with growing enthusiasm, lifting them both off the bed as Obi-Wan completed each downstroke. Obi-Wan gave a low, breathy grunt of satisfaction, his fingers tightening.

"Oh! Yessss. Harder." He let his head tip back, the long line of his throat working as he swallowed. Qui-Gon pushed up sharply, and they broke rhythm, Obi-Wan stilling as Qui-Gon gave him a half dozen short, fierce strokes. Obi-Wan cried out, inarticulate, and Qui-Gon guessed his cock-head was pushing right at Obi-Wan's prostate, so he did it again, watching Obi-Wan's cock thicken and begin to lift up toward his belly.

"Want you to fuck me over the comm table next," Obi-Wan moaned, his voice husky. "And up against the window. And in the bath. And against the wall. And over the pilot's chair in your ship. And on the table in the refectory."

"Save at least one for tomorrow," Qui-Gon whispered unsteadily. "I'm an old man."

"I'm just getting started." Obi-Wan panted softly, speeding the pace, his thighs flexing. Qui-Gon met him halfway, lifting up and dragging him down for a kiss; Obi-Wan moaned into his mouth, tongue swirling around his.

"Want to try this on your knees?" Qui-Gon murmured against his lips, and Obi-Wan dismounted, kneeling for him; Qui-Gon moved up behind him and clasped his waist, dragging him backward even as he lunged back inside, a single swift stroke that made Obi-Wan keen. "Fuck!"

"As you wish." Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan up, tweaking the golden ring in his nipple, and thrust deep into him, unleashing his strength cautiously at first, then with growing confidence.

"Harder, yes, like that--" Obi-Wan gasped, voice breaking, as Qui-Gon gave in and bent him back over, riding him hard. "Ah!" He wrung short, sharp cries out of Obi-Wan's throat, catching his slippery cock in a firm grip and pumping it fast.

"Fuck, yes. Fuck!" Obi-Wan stammered, clutching at the pillow, his elbows quivering. "Master...!"

Qui-Gon clutched Obi-Wan's hip with his left hand, refusing to let him collapse, and drove into him fiercely; Obi-Wan let out a low wail and writhed, his cock jetting pearly fluid onto the sheets, his muscles wringing Qui-Gon tightly and dragging his own orgasm out of him with unexpected suddenness. Qui-Gon heard their voices mingle, his shout hoarse and triumphant; then they collapsed together, Obi-Wan's back slick with sweat, his lungs struggling to draw breath under the weight of Qui-Gon's heavy body.

"No, don't move," Obi-Wan gasped, catching his hand. "Want to hold you inside me." Qui-Gon buried his head in Obi-Wan's neck, biting softly, tasting salt, his cock still deep in Obi-Wan's body. They lay there, still, their breath slowing, until Qui-Gon shrank and slipped out; then he slid off Obi-Wan and gathered him up in his arms for a deep, lazy kiss, both of them half-asleep by the time it ended.

Qui-Gon slid his hand over Obi-Wan's back and down along his ass, purring, sated; Obi-Wan drew a luxuriant breath and his lips moved softly against Qui-Gon's throat. "Finally," he mumbled, but Qui-Gon was already fading into sleep.

Yoda stood beside a table at the foot of the main stair, watching as the assembled Jedi waited in line, each one preparing to record his vote on the data pad that had been set up for the purpose. The Council would be made up of the six Jedi who received the most votes; then it, in turn, would choose its leaders.

Obi-Wan nodded to Yoda before he made his choices; finished, he stepped aside to join the growing group of Jedi who had already voted, lingering nearby to learn the results of their selection.

He thought it was a foregone conclusion that Qui-Gon would be chosen for the Council, but he had his worries about what might happen then. It was all but unheard of for a Knight such as himself to be chosen as a Councilor, much less as Master of the Order, in spite of what Yoda might think. And he worried, too, about Qui-Gon's status-- though they had come here, though they knew of his sacrifices as well as his transgressions, had the Jedi fully accepted him? Did they see him as Obi-Wan and Yoda did?

Fidgeting would benefit no one, so he kept his body still as the voting progressed, not looking at Qui-Gon, who stood slightly apart, as cool and aloof as ever-- though Obi-Wan noticed an unusual tendency to shift from foot to foot, as if he felt a certain mild discomfort in his lower body.

He let his amusement lift the corners of his mouth, still looking carefully in a neutral direction; they had been rather late to arrive at firstmeal, and for good reason. He didn't envy the housekeepers who would have to tend Qui-Gon's rooms this morning; "shambles" was a polite word for the wreck they had made of the bed, not to mention the bath.

The voting finished, then they waited for the last of the remote votes to trickle in; the data pad chimed when its chrono countdown expired, and Yoda lifted it serenely.

"Councilors of the Xinune Temple, these Jedi will be." He paused, gazing around the room, and Obi-Wan resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at the old master's sense of drama. "In order of votes from least to most: Master Wohta. Master Trebor. Knight Istae. Master Jinn. Master Ti. Knight Kenobi."

A whisper arose throughout the room; Obi-Wan was glad to feel the optimistic response to the announcement, a pleased sensation resonating through the Force. Slowly, pausing to deliver congratulations, the Jedi dispersed, leaving the six Councilors alone, forming a loose ring around Yoda.

Yoda turned a slow circuit, studying each of them in turn, his ears raised high; Obi-Wan was pleased to see that he approved of the choices. Most of them were his own first choices-- each of them had arrived early, and undertaken important roles in securing and administering the facility before the downfall of the Sith, and had maintained his activities in the days since.

"The will of the Force is well-served this day." Yoda concluded his study, moving to join the circle. "Who now will lead this Council as Grand Master of the Xinune Temple?"

Shaak Ti spoke first. "Master Jinn."

"Master Jinn," Trebor concurred.

"Knight Kenobi," Wohta differed firmly, and Istae echoed him. Obi-Wan blinked, startled.

"You honor me." He bowed to the two of them. "But I must cast my vote also for Master Jinn."

"Your vote, Master Jinn?" Yoda faced him serenely.

Obi-Wan gazed at Qui-Gon in alarm, seeing the slight smile that quirked his mouth. Oh, no. No.

"I must also choose Knight Kenobi, Master Yoda." Qui-Gon bowed low.

Obi-Wan glared at him, contemplating a dozen varieties of murder.

"Hrm." Yoda leaned on his stick. "Unexpected, this stalemate." His ears remained elevated, and his eyes twinkled. "As Grand Master of the Coruscant Temple, independent observer of this proceeding, I propose a compromise. Knight Kenobi to be named Master of the Order, and by reason of experience, Master Jinn to be named Grand Master, both provisional upon the continued approval of this duly elected Council."

"Agreed," Obi-Wan injected hastily, still glowering at Qui-Gon.

"It is acceptable." Shaak Ti nodded.

The others agreed as well, after a moment's consideration, and Obi-Wan nearly collapsed with relief.

"First among equals, you will be." Yoda gestured them all down, and they knelt before him. "Guide now these Jedi with insight and compassion, strength and wisdom. And may the Force be with you." When he stepped back, they all rose, bowing deeply to him.

"Much have you to do, no?" Yoda watched, austere, as four of the High Councilors departed, then lifted his gaze to Qui-Gon, pursing his lips. "And much have I to do, as well. Anxious, Master Windu will be, to hear the outcome of this vote." He cackled, jabbing his stick at Qui-Gon's shin. "Contact him, you will, and we will listen. Headache he will have, I think. Yes?"

"Yes, Master Yoda." Qui-Gon glanced aside to Obi-Wan, who stifled his laughter behind his palm and followed them out, in search of the nearest holocomm.

Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force.

--The Code of the Xinune Temple

PART IV - Glossary