Master Apprentice Archive Once in a Lifetime Quick search:

Archive: T.O.T.O., Master Apprentice

Category: POV, Angst

Pairing: Q/O, Q/Other implied

Rating: R

Website: http://www.glassworld.org

Feedback: Yes, please, may I have another? Any time, any way, onlist or off. Good or bad, I can take it. ghouses@ureach.com or ghouses@yahoo.com

Summary: Qui-Gon let go of the past to take Obi-Wan as his Apprentice. But can Obi-Wan ever be first in his heart?

Warnings: Could be spoilers; click here

Disclaimer: "This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended." That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Notes: A big Thank You goes to Fox, who beta'd this puppy not once but TWICE and made me laugh and actually think while doing so. I made changes after the final beta, so if (when) you find errors, blame them on me. Gloriana also helped whip the first section into shape, and her remarks concerning the last parts stuck with me until I buckled down and tried to make things (hopefully) clearer.

Notes2: This story mentions events from the Jedi Apprentice books. But if you've not read them, never fear! I'll tell you all you need to know. Before Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon took an Apprentice named Xanatos, a boy from a rich, powerful, political family who lived in Thani, the capital of the planet Telos. When Xanatos grew up, Qui-Gon thought he was ready to be made a Jedi Knight, but Yoda insisted on one last mission to Telos, which was embroiled in a civil war caused by Xanatos' father. On that mission, Xanatos turned to the Dark Side after Qui-Gon was forced to kill Xanatos' father. Xanatos fled, and continued to cause trouble, threatening Obi-Wan on a planet called Bandomeer before he was even Qui-Gon's Apprentice. He later committed suicide on Telos by jumping into a boiling black pool of acid to escape capture.

There. I just saved you $40 in book purchases *g*

"He was one of those who are damned to love once."
--Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Anakin found me almost as soon as I set foot in the Temple from my latest mission. I nodded acknowledgement to him, but didn't stop or even slow my pace. The information I had was vital to Jedi still in the field, and I needed to brief the Council immediately. That's what I told myself, anyhow, and it was mostly true.

My respite was short, however. Anakin was waiting for me outside the Council chambers. He fell into step beside me, pent-up energy and sadness rolling off him. I don't run from unpleasant situations, I told myself. And that is mostly true.

I finally broke the silence. "How is he?" But now that Anakin had my attention, he wasn't speaking.

"Much worse. I don't think he'll survive the week." His voice was hoarse, and I felt a quick stab of sympathy for him. Qui-Gon had always been good to him. Was responsible for Anakin having a life as a Jedi instead of a slave. I could understand how hard this must be for him. To see the closest thing he'd ever had to a father in pain...

"I'll make time to come by and see him before my next mission."

At that he stepped ahead of me, turned to face me, and stopped. A solid wall of Jedi Knight, but it wasn't his physical stature that drew me up -- it was his determination. He wanted something of me beyond informing me that my old Master was dying, and he was going to get it.

Anakin's sense of what was honorable had been incubated during his childhood as a slave, but Qui-Gon and his unorthodox methods had nurtured it. He wanted to repay Qui-Gon for all the kindnesses he'd been shown, and I had a bad feeling that repayment meant an action on my part that I would find unpleasant, or counter to the Code. Or both.

And Anakin knew this. Qui-Gon and I had been estranged since my Knighting day. My Knighting night, to be more specific.

I don't know how much detail Qui-Gon had passed onto Anakin -- and I didn't really want to find out -- but there was this immovable Jedi object in my way, when all I wanted was to go to my small suite of rooms. I suddenly felt old, and very tired.

I raised my eyes to his. "What?"

We talked while sitting in comfortable chairs on a balcony that looked out over the vast interior of the Temple. A hundred levels of quarters, training rooms, meeting rooms, libraries, balconies and more stretched above and below us, a hive of beings in tune with the Force. I felt out of place, like a sharply misplayed note in a soft sonata.

"He's in the last stage of the illness. He can't even see anymore, and he's not lucid. He keeps asking for... him. It's all he wants before he dies. He can't remember what really happened. He's convinced I'm keeping him away."

Anakin closed his eyes, but not before a tear leaked out from under his fair lashes. "I want to give Master Qui-Gon what he wants. I'm somewhat skilled at disguising my Force signature, but he knows me too well. He'd see through me in a second. But you..."

My throat tightened. "No," I managed to whisper.

Never. Not that.

"Obi-Wan, you don't understand! He calls for him constantly. It's all he cares about. I think he would calm down and allow me to ease him into the Force if he could see him again!"

I heard the hurt and need in Ani's voice, but how could he ask this of me? I stood and began to walk away.

"Obi-Wan, wait -- please!" He caught my arm. "He's blind, he's constantly on the verge of hysteria, terror." I jerked it out of his grasp and didn't stop. "He deserves to die in peace! How can you be this petty?"

I wheeled on him. "And just what do you know about it! What do you know about being led on for years, about keeping your heart only for one person because you thought you were destined for him -- hells, were destined for him, only to have him deny you and the Force for someone who didn't deserve..."

I broke off. I was yelling at him -- in the Temple.

"Anakin...I'm sorry," I finally stammered in a softer voice. "I know what you must think of me. I don't hate him. I just don't know that I can do it."

Chosen One though he might be, he couldn't force me to do this.

He stepped close and put his hands on my shoulders. "You can. You're the only one who can. Maybe you need this as much as he does. It's been fifteen years, Obi-Wan. And...I know you don't want to hear this, but I really don't think he can help it. If he could have, he would have. He was only able to love once..." His hands tightened. "You've helped me before. Please..."

I hadn't expected him to beg. His urgency, his unexpected kindness, and gods, the truth behind his words had beaten me down. I'd do it, but he was wrong about one thing. I didn't need this. I could have gone forever without it.

I nodded to him.

I went to my quarters to unpack, change, and meditate. I'd agreed to come to Qui-Gon's rooms at seventh hour, and I needed every second of the intervening time to examine my feelings. If this was going to work, I couldn't bring old resentments with me. Resentment. Such a mild word for what I have felt all the years after that night.

I needed to start with remembering what I'd worked so long to forget. So after a shower and a light meal, I sank into meditation – not to forget, as I'd done so many times, but to remember.

We'd begun to desire each other physically a few years before my Apprenticeship came to an end. I'd been through the infatuation phase years before: Qui-Gon was my Master and could do no wrong – that sort of thing. But I'd never lusted after him. On the contrary, as a teenaged boy, I found my age-mates far more fascinating. Although (as in everything) a Jedi is discreet, I'm sure he knew about my relationships. He was happy for me. If he saw me as more than his Padawan, he kept the feelings to himself.

So it wasn't more than two years before Naboo that it started -- in a training hall, of all places. I was shadowing him in step-for-step while learning one of the most advanced 'saber techniques he knew. By then, we both knew that I would eventually become the better swordsman. Qui-Gon gloried in this knowledge, although like so many other things, he kept his pride to himself.

It was hot, and he'd removed his tunic to demonstrate a new move. It was part of a series I could not seem to get right, and I fell out of the movements to stand back and watch.

And I saw.

He was aging, his beard was grizzled, his body was scarred. His gait while sparring always seemed a bit lumbering to me, although I'd long since learned never to underestimate his ability. His feet were big, even on a man his size, and his stomach always seemed a bit fleshy, even though he was all muscle. His face was weathered, with heavy worry lines furrowing his brow, an uneven nose, and eyes set too close. He preferred to wear his hair severely pulled back, which did nothing to minimize a too-prominent forehead.

He was beautiful.

After he demonstrated, he began the series of moves again, expecting me to join in. When I didn't, he looked up and saw me watching him. Recognition flared in his eyes (how I loved those deep blue eyes!) and I realized my gaze was welcome. Overdue.

Well. Where had I been all this time?

He lowered his 'saber, and we simply regarded each other for a few moments. I think I was wearing a tight grin. Then I removed my own tunic and wiped my face with an exaggerated motion, watching him as I did so.

It was his turn to smile.

I could have stood there all evening, wasting valuable training time, but he was too much the Master to allow it. He motioned me to begin the movements with him, and the matter was dropped, but not forgotten.

That night, after he'd showered and was combing his hair out at our common table, I startled him by removing the comb from his hands and gently working out the tangles myself. That was the start. There were more brushes in narrow hallways, more tight quarters on missions. We became bolder with each other regarding our state of dress -- or lack thereof. Towels became the only items we wore after showers and until it was time to sleep. Qui-Gon took to re-plaiting my braid while we faced each other and stared into each other's eyes.

I finally realized it was up to me to make any kind of move beyond flirting. One night, as I brushed his hair while he sat, I leaned down and began to gently kiss his forehead, eyes and nose. He lifted his head, and I sat right down by straddling his lap and kissed him in earnest. I was so keyed up at that point that it was a very passionate, wet kiss, and the next thing I knew, he had enveloped me with those long arms and we were gasping at each other's touches, strokes and nips. We quickly shed what little we were wearing, and I slid down between his knees to take him in my mouth. The gasp -- nearly a shout -- he made was perhaps the most satisfying sound I'd ever heard a lover make.

Because it was about love, not just making love.

Such fancy thoughts were soon relegated to another part of my brain. I couldn't get enough of him. I began pumping myself with one hand even as I sucked him, and stroked his sac with the other hand. I think he wanted something more... elegant for our first time, because he made a half-hearted effort to pull me up, but then sank back in the chair, spread his legs, and began petting me by stroking my hair and twisting his fingers through my braid.

As loud as he was when I started, I only knew he was about to come because his whole body stiffened and he thrust up into my mouth once, twice. As he filled my mouth, I shifted my gaze up to see his head thrown back, eyes tightly shut and mouth open in a silent shout.

I came myself, pulling my mouth away to shout at the sudden completion, then dropping my forehead to his thigh as I tried to even out my breathing.

After a moment, he reached down and drew me up into his arms, unmindful of my somewhat sticky state. He cradled my head in his large hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheekbones. I leaned in, hesitant, but he eagerly met my lips, breaching my mouth with his tongue to taste himself.

I broke the kiss and sat back on his legs, straddling him again on the generous chair, and just looked at him, seeing him as I had in the training chamber, seeing him simply as a man. He was flushed, excited, and yet languid from release. I reached around his head and pulled at the leather tie I'd put in place only moments before, and his hair fell around his face as I slid it down and off.

I also reached out to touch him using the Force, through the bond we shared.

Now, many non-Force-users misunderstand bonds, especially the way Jedi use and create them. They think bonds allow Jedi telepathy, but it's more like empathy. The level of empathic awareness varies by the individual Jedi and the intensity of the bond. A strong Master/Padawan bond will allow each partner to know the general physical state of the other. Some pairs, like Qui-Gon and myself, could also sense some emotions as well; mostly the stronger sort, like fear, surprise and grief.

Then there's the popular theory that Jedi are constantly aware of each other because of bonding, that they can track each other's physical movements like a Kelnhar bloodhound follows the scent of its mate -- but that's not the case at all. A bond is simply an extension of a Jedi's mental awareness. A person trained in the Force can easily control the projections and mental "chatter" that feed a bond, much like having a built-in thought filter. Just as each humanoid has a unique retinal pattern, each strong Force user has a unique mental frequency. Tuning your mental senses to detect another requires compatibility and consent, but also skill.

Quite a bit of skill and practice. It's the mental equivalent of being in two places at one time.

As we sat holding each other, basking in the physical serenity of our act, I reached out to the unique mental signature that was Qui-Gon within the Force. It seemed as natural as breathing, as natural as the act we'd shared, to attempt to take more from the bond than affirmation of life and general mood. Just as our relationship had expanded irrevocably and exponentially beyond what it had been, I wanted matching intimacy from this.

I reached out with all the love and respect I had for him centered in my mind. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, savoring and sorting through the new projections. Then he smiled, a most tender smile, and sent a similar set of feelings back to me. His sending -- the enhancing of our bond by Qui-Gon -- was more subtle and elegant and soothing coming from him. It was the difference between a sudden gust of wind and a sweet breeze. He was teaching me by example, even in this.

I felt a kind of mental tingle, and then a pain, the sweet pang of love that anyone can feel in their body, in their gut, but with my whole mind. I was surprised to see his eyes water, until I realized I had tears blinding my own eyes.

I felt small again, younger, and found myself hugging him tightly. When he wrapped his arms around me and stroked my back, I understood why he'd wanted a different, less urgent first time for us.

He stood, and I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist. While much smaller than he was, I was completely grown and fit, and I smiled against his neck as he called the Force to assist him in carrying me to his bed.

"Hush, you," he said, and I could feel his amusement in my mind.

Our new relationship made the remainder of my apprenticeship paradoxically harder and easier.

Our teamwork benefited, because of the ease with which I could feel Qui-Gon during training exercises and missions, but my teamwork with others suffered. I was so used to relying on our bond that I kept second-guessing my partners and myself when I had to work with other Jedi.

I began to resent the time I spent in training that took me away from him, and the missions and appointments he kept on his own. Yet I learned a patience that comes from being deprived of what had become my seventh sense -- the five all humans are gifted with, my Force sense, and the accustomed, welcome, loved, taken-for-granted new sense that was Qui-Gon.

I remember one evening with clarity, despite the number of years between action and remembrance. Master Emil had taken a group of Padawans through a series of scenarios, the culmination of each being a situation seemingly impossible to resolve within the confines of the Jedi Code. Yet we each had to play the scenarios out. No one Padawan was wrong, but none was entirely right, either. The point was to tear down the training we'd received since the creche -- that following the Force in the Light would always bring about a satisfactory result.

The exercises are collectively called the Menjordan Conundrum, and I was droning on about it early one evening like an excited Initiate. Qui-Gon was busy in our common area, accessing via terminal the data he needed preparatory to a short solo mission, and told me he didn't have time to discuss it.

Qui-Gon's Padawan would have respectfully, if impatiently, backed off. Qui-Gon's new lover effectively distracted him with some well-placed kisses along a particularly sensitive patch of skin on his neck, and proceeded to prattle on with my own personal theory of how the Conundrum might be solved. After a while, it sank in that he was saying nothing, and I asked him if he'd ever thought about the exercise.

"No, Obi-Wan, I've never pondered the mystery of the Menjordan Conundrum!"

The teacher would have been subtler in his chastisement. The lover was simply irritated at my behavior.

Stung, I left our shared quarters and headed for a study node frequented by Padawans of my age and station. But when I got there I deliberately avoided their company, and listlessly punched up entries on the Conundrum from a terminal at the far end of the hall.

Even then, I knew I'd set down a path that set me apart from most other Padawans. It would have been a comfort to seek diversion in their company, but I certainly had no desire to divulge information about my new relationship, which I would have been forced to do if seeking their sympathy.

I'd reread a Jedi theoretician's thoughts on the Exercises about five times, without actually absorbing any of the text, when I sensed Qui-Gon settle beside me. I felt his mental presence at the same time I felt his physical presence. Either he was muting his emotions, or I wasn't listening. Probably both.

A miffed lover might have ignored him, or waited for him to make the first move of apology, but the Padawan was simply heartsick and turned to him right away.

We apologized to each other and ran through what had gone wrong and why. He wanted me to return to our quarters then, but I could think of at least a dozen more ways I wanted to distract him, and he did have a tremendous amount of work to do in a very short time. I remained at the study terminal until he left Coruscant several hours later.

He only raised his voice to me one other time during my Apprenticeship. Naboo.

It's still difficult to think about those days and nights. What started out as a simple, hush-hush mission at the request of the Chancellor turned into one of the defining moments of the Republic. The difficulties of our equal relationship as lovers, yet unequal status as Jedi, were never as apparent, and culminated in a nasty argument over Anakin. Yet the advantages of our enhanced bond were never as apparent as when we successfully fought and defeated a Sith.

To say the pluses outweighed the minuses would be the understatement of the millennium. As the creature began to retreat, then panic under our coordinated onslaught, he reached out for guidance to his Master, and Qui-Gon was able to follow that Force thread to its intended recipient.

After the fact, every Jedi who knew Palpatine claimed he or she had always had a bad feeling about the Senator; but, truth be told, we had all been caught unawares.

I was distracted from my meditation by the sound of the message unit's chirp. No. To be honest, I'd have not heard half the temple crash down if I were truly tuned to a Force-enhanced meditation. But my memories were coming closer to that night and I would have welcomed any reprieve.

I didn't recognize the name of the party calling me, but the extension code originated from the Quartermaster's section. I answered, and a female voice announced without greeting or preamble that she was a friend of Anakin's and could I shave my beard and come to the Mission Requisition area right away? I don't startle easily, but I admit I missed a beat before I reluctantly agreed. As much as I didn't want to remember, that much more I dreaded what was to come at seventh hour, and I knew meeting this person was the first tangible step along that road.

I arrived at the south wing of the sixtieth floor -- always a hive of activity, with Jedi acquiring and returning implements, clothing, weapons and disguises for various missions.

Feeling quite exposed without the beard I'd worn for the past decade, I scanned the area, not knowing what Anakin had arranged. A tall human female motioned to me right away, and I followed her down a corridor and into a small room with a workbench. She introduced herself as Knight Meniiyan Dess, sat me down in the room's only chair, and immediately began prepping my face for a plasmer mold.

She was nervous, and talked as she worked to hide it. She'd been Ani's first friend when he came to the Temple. Brought to the Temple late herself, at age four, she understood what he was going through. They'd helped each other out over the years, and she was glad to lend a hand with this, even if she wasn't quite sure what was going on.

Meniiyan was assigned to Requisition work while she recovered at Temple from a mission injury. I think she was under the impression that she was helping me prep for a less-than-sanctioned mission, and I suppose that was mostly true.

She swabbed all oil, dirt, and what felt like two layers of skin from my face, then brushed on the liquid material, which assumed a rubbery texture within seconds.

After carefully cutting out nostrils and eyeholes, she peeled the ultra-thin mask off my face and placed it on a specialized, head-shaped lathe. Consulting a datapad, she began making fine pits and raised ridges on the surface, using extra bits of plasmer, a patterned block and a tiny scalpel. With a sick feeling, I realized what she was doing, and wondered exactly how Ani had come by the specifics. The level of detail was more than he could have seen from one glance. Had Qui-Gon told him? Had he "coaxed" the information from sealed Temple records?

She was done quite quickly, and turned on a heating unit inside the lathe to seal her work. Plasmer is a technical wonder. The material, once molded and set by high heat, is durable, and takes the coloration and natural skin temperature of whatever humanoid skin it's placed on.

She helped me fit the new mask over my face, adjusting the nostril holes. Plasmer all but disappears into skin, so there is no need to adjust for a hairline; one merely leaves a small space of natural skin before the hair begins. Even eyebrows appear natural under the transparent material. She handed me a small mirror (assuming I knew what I was supposed to look like) and my face appeared to be a mass of fine scars, all tiny pocks and ridges. I brought my free hand up automatically, and felt ridged scar tissue; it was warm, but not as pliable as unmarred skin.

I sat staring at my changed image so long Meniiyan asked me if she'd missed something, and I quickly assured her the work was excellent. I removed the mask and she rolled it right up and placed it in a small cloth bag.

I thought we were through, but she moved behind me and combed her fingers through my hair. Pulling out a drawer from her workbench, she removed a fine-toothed comb, and began adjusting a small display set into the handle. I knew what this was for, having used one myself many times on missions.

"Hair color doesn't matter."

She frowned and consulted the datapad. "It's not meant to be black?"

"He... can't tell hair color by touch." It was a sorry explanation, but all I could think of at the time.

"What about hair texture?"

I nodded my assent, and she brought out a similar device and brushed it through my hair thoroughly. In its wake was finer, straighter hair.

"It will assume its natural texture in a few cycles."

I gave myself another cursory glance in the mirror at her behest, complimented her for the quick work, and stood to leave. The mask in its bag tucked neatly into my belt, and my hood hid my hair.

"I'll have the clothes sent to your rooms by sixth hour."

Anakin again, being thorough.

"That will be fine. I thank you for your discretion, Knight Dess."

We bowed to each other and I left, returning quickly to my rooms to resume the meditation. Where was I? Ah, yes. After Naboo.

As soon as Qui-Gon had recovered from the 'saber blow from the Sith Apprentice, I was Knighted.

My ceremony was public and quite heavily attended, for several reasons. Among them were the unusual circumstances of the Naboo mission that served as my Trial. Then there were the rumors regarding my deeper relationship with Qui-Gon. To this day I don't know how that became common knowledge. I had never spoken of it and Qui-Gon insisted he hadn't either. While not expressly forbidden among Jedi the way outside commitments were, it was uncommon. I suppose it's possible my behavior during Qui-Gon's recovery was the culprit. My reaction probably went beyond that of a distraught Padawan.

Also, many Jedi who spent most of their lives in the field were back on Coruscant. The Temple as a whole and the High Council in particular were trying almost desperately to discover how Palpatine had deceived them so easily. The Senate was more than happy to classify his turning and ascent to power as Jedi business. Ferreting out Palpatine's network required the combined expertise of nearly one hundred Jedi, and most were at Temple being briefed on new assignments when my ceremony took place. They were curious to see the Padawan who had defeated a Sith.

Finally, this ceremony was one of special importance to Qui-Gon. My Knighting was a kind of personal victory, following the taint of having his previous Apprentice turn to the Dark. Not only had Xanatos turned on the cusp of his own elevation to Knighthood; he had also attacked the Temple by turning an age mate of mine, still an Initiate, to the Dark side. Ever theatrical, he'd actually committed suicide a year later on his home world of Telos by falling into an acid pit to avoid capture. All of Qui-Gon's friends and associates who'd supported him during that desperate time were on hand and thrilled to see him cut my braid.

My maverick Master gave them all their money's worth. At the ceremony's conclusion, he pulled me close, tipped my head back with both hands and gave me a kiss that was... thorough.

The crowd was murmuring by the time he pulled back, and then they began to clap. I was so astounded my mouth held the position of the kiss until he pushed up playfully on my chin, making my teeth click, then turned me around to present me.

That was easily the happiest day of my life.

That night I told Qui-Gon my deepest desire. I wanted to twine our life Forces together through our bond, transmuting it into a lifebond.

We'd gone back to our shared quarters and waited a bit impatiently for Ani to finally tire and go to sleep in my old room. We then retired, and started our own -- quiet -- celebration. I was tentative at first. I wanted to make sure he was fully recovered, and my careful touching brought forth all the fears I'd repressed over his dire injury. I was stroking his chest, brushing close to the healed wound, when I broke down and began my Knighthood by crying.

Qui-Gon proceeded to show me just how healthy he was, and my body responded with equal vigor. My fear was replaced by lust, love, and confidence in our future together. He loved me with his mouth, and then drove into me vigorously, stopping only to lean back on his knees and pull me up to straddle him, one of my favorite positions.

I placed my knees atop his thighs for leverage as thrust up into me, and balanced by grasping his shoulders. This gave him easy access to lean in and suck my nipples, while his hands covered my ass, pulling and lifting in time with our thrusts. Somehow having to be quiet while I felt his teeth gently graze my nipples, felt his coarse hairs against my hole, felt his exhalations become shorter and harsher against my sweaty skin made the act more private, intimate, and sacred then ever before. I barely remembered to restrain my cry when I came, my cock pressed into his stomach. He bit hard on my collarbone to muffle his own shout and followed me, shuddering as deep inside me as he had in my mouth our first time.

He lowered me back to the bed and kissed me soundly. Our emotions were as open to each other as our current bond allowed, and I suddenly found the courage to broach the topic of a lifebond with him.

Lifebonds are probably the most misunderstood of all bonds to non-Jedi. The name is a misnomer; one's life is not dependant on the bond. It's more of a Force marriage, though most Jedi wouldn't like this description, given the Order's position on excessive emotional attachments. But just as marriage entails entwining a couple's lives and resources, so does this type of bond entwine the mental energies of two Jedi. While partners in a marriage can still have secrets from each other, this is not possible with a lifebond.

Qui-Gon held my hand while I blurted out my intentions, but he didn't immediately agree. In fact, he'd stopped allowing his emotions to flow out to me. I didn't doubt that he loved me -- I was more curious and anxious than hurt. I gave him time, and he finally spoke.

"Never doubt that I care for you, Obi-Wan. But I'm much older than you, and I've had strong bonds with others..." he broke off.

I began to understand. Part of the process allows each mate to examine bonds of various types the other has entered into. For most Jedi, such an intimacy as a Force bond of any sort is reserved to mates, very close friends, Masters...and Padawans. Xanatos. Qui-Gon was in some way reluctant for me to examine the bond he'd formed with his former Apprentice. An Apprentice who'd tried to destroy him and me.

I brought our joined hands to my lips and kissed his fingers. "I know you loved him -- he was your Apprentice. I wouldn't expect less of you." Pausing, "Is that the only reason? I know this is sudden..."

Qui-Gon laughed softly then, though his eyes were somber. Oh, how I loved his laugh and smile. "That is quite a large reason. But if you truly want to bond with me, how can I deny you?"

I must have smiled like a fool, because he laughed again. Louder, but not so loud as to wake Anakin, and that was the last sound either of us made that wasn't part of lovemaking.

That night was easily the most joyous of my life.

The next evening saw Anakin comfortably ensconced in the quarters of Qui-Gon's old friend Plo Koon, ostensibly for the purpose of further evaluation before he formally became Qui-Gon's Padawan. The Council was very curious about this boy who'd disabled a 'droid control ship by simply following his instincts, and Qui-Gon told me with a chuckle that Plo had had to fight Yoda and Adi Gallia for the privilege of babysitting.

We'd meditated separately, bathed ourselves thoroughly, and now knelt facing each other on Qui-Gon's large sleep pallet, dressed only in sleeveless tunics. We began the bonding by opening our minds to each other, but this was a different type of openness than we'd previously shared. The level of awareness and trust as we slipped into each other's consciousness was almost mentally painful. Years of discipline were deliberately discarded as we extended our consciousness without reserve into each other's minds, while simultaneously tearing down our mental barriers -- but only with regards to each other. It was hard work, and we were sweating with exertion at the end of it, though we hadn't moved a muscle.

Finally, we were at a place at once inside our normal selves but also basking in the luminance of the other's presence. I opened my eyes, as did Qui-Gon -- and I could alternately see him and see myself from his eyes. It was only in this hyperaware state that lifebonding could begin.

We would learn each other's thoughts, fears, emotions, likes and dislikes, and our own memories would remember the other's. After this was over, we would be able to achieve this state more easily as time went by. I was extremely interested by the possibilities the lifebond would afford in lovemaking, and could simultaneously feel Qui-Gon feeling my sexual need and hear his amusement.

We were equals in this, but a dozen years of deferral on my part and leadership on his made it seem natural that he would probe my mind and memories first. It was now well into the second hour of our meditation, and the state was more familiar to me. Nevertheless, it was an anxious time. There were no barriers, and Qui-Gon could see my petty worries, frustrations, sexual experiences and fantasies. I felt as if I were being judged, and wondered if I would be found lacking.

I needn't have worried. His mind in mine was like a gentle caress, mapping my desires, fears, experiences, and my deep love for him. I could feel his affection as he withdrew, pulling my consciousness even tighter into his so I could map his mind with mine.

It was hyperawareness, in that I could see everything at once, yet I could sift through individual memories and emotions. Qui-Gon's mind was represented to me as a vast, round chamber with each strong memory a scene I could touch and sink into.

There were bits and fragments from years of missions. He didn't like the color yellow, yet liked yellow dremmi flowers better than pink ones. I felt the first time the child Qui-Gon had touched the thrilling, yet calm, touch of the Living Force during a meditation. Smells, familiar and unknown; the sensation of swimming in cold, deep water. I knew how his muscles ached after throwing up for hours from food poisoning, and how even now the smell of fresh crowder fish made him nauseous. How sex felt from within his body. His first time -- with a lovely female Twi'lek -- and his last time with me, just the night before. The odd, crinkly feel of a knife cutting through braided hair.

Finally, I began gently touching and exploring the bonds Qui-Gon had forged with others. I had only the one with him, but he had several. Only those with his old master and first Apprentice, Shirtha, were active. I could feel along them to sense the living presences on the other side. It was in this way that Qui-Gon had discovered the Sith Apprentice's Master.

A bond forged with his best friend from his youth had the mental texture equivalent -- to my interpretation -- of a brittle, dried, decaying rope, tied on one side to Qui-Gon, but floating free on a mental breeze on the other. That friend had died nearly twenty years ago, and I could instantly feel the pain associated with the loss, as Qui-Gon himself had felt it all those years ago. My hand reached out instinctively and touched his face.

Yet another, weaker, bond was with an old lover. It lay quiescent, since their split a decade ago. They'd remained friends until just a few years past -- and I instantly knew, in the sometimes-jolting way this joining provided, that the friendship had ended because of his growing attraction to me, and her disapproval. Qui-Gon no longer cast feelings through that bond, nor did he open himself to any from her. I moved on to the last.

Xanatos. Qui-Gon tensed, in body and spirit, as I began exploring that bond. He'd cut himself off from communication twenty-two years before when Xanatos had turned to the dark side. Xanatos has perished eleven years later on Telos, so I expected the bond to be fragile, crumbling, dead.

But it wasn't.

Shocked, I poured energy into tracing it, even as Qui-Gon gasped. He'd avoided the pain of that lifeless bond to Xanatos because he'd assumed, as we all had, that Xan's fall into the acid lake had killed him. But there was definitely a living presence on the other end.

The life Force was muted, disdainful, sad, and listless. I knew in a flash I could follow it, and with Xanatos unsuspecting, perhaps even discern his location. The Jedi needed to know this! He was a dangerous killer, a rogue, and if we could just...

It was then that I felt Qui-Gon tense and panic, and attempt to expel my presence from his mind. He's in shock, I told myself. I just need a second longer and I can find out...

"STOP!"

I heard him shout before it registered that he'd also struck me across the face to break my concentration for the bonding.

It was the mental equivalent of leaning against a door, only to have it suddenly open. I actually fell forward and had to brace myself on my hands. I looked up at him in utter confusion, but he was paying me no attention at all. He was gasping, with his eyes tightly closed; then he got off the pallet and began to pace. I just watched him, frozen in stillness against his hyperactivity. Then he stopped, and his face transformed with joy. He brought his arms together as if he were hugging someone tightly, and started...to sob.

"Master? Qui-Gon?" I asked. Pleaded. But he didn't hear me.

"He's alive." His voice broke as his whole frame shuddered. "Oh, Force, I hadn't dared hope."

It hadn't sunk in at first. I'd felt outside of myself. I was still in a hyperaware state, but there was no longer anything for me to concentrate on. He'd withdrawn from my mind so quickly, and his emotions had shifted so rapidly, that I had blurred mental vision and was physically dizzy.

The mental shock didn't last long -- couldn't last -- and when the pain hit, all I knew was the need to get away.

I was numb, and weak as if I'd been fasting, when I staggered to my feet, pulled my cloak around me, and half ran, half stumbled from our quarters, barefoot. One step, another step. It only mattered that I was putting distance between myself and the source of the pain. I wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that no distance would ever be enough. I must have made quite a sight as I lurched along the Temple's corridors with my hood up and my arms wrapped around myself. I remember thinking if I unclenched them, I'd just flow away and cease to exist.

I found myself in the Field Jedi wing. Rarely at Temple, these operatives had little need for permanent quarters, and were assigned rooms as needed. Any Knight was welcome here, and I walked up to the communal door and tapped in a request for a room on the datapad. My hands were quite steady, I noticed with some surprise. The request wasn't approved for a half-second, and I had time to wonder what I would do if the Temple records hadn't been updated with my new status.

But the request was approved with a beep, and the screen lit up with the number of my tiny room.

I went in, fell onto the bed, and slept. Or passed out -- I don't know which; I just knew that the pain went away for awhile.

I stirred in my meditative state, and considered breaking the trance. I'd already gone past the memories I would need for Anakin's plan, but I'd never actively tried to remember any of what followed our bonding night. Something Anakin had said earlier was true, damn him; I needed to work through this.

But it was quite difficult to think back on what happened next. Of course the memories themselves were painful, but it was literally difficult to remember details, and I couldn't do it casually. Which meant I hadn't done it in fifteen years.

I was suffering, I learned later, from mental shock. The bond had indeed formed, but badly. Lopsided wasn't normally a term I would apply to one of the pinnacles of Jedi achievement, but there it was. Qui-Gon had already imposed himself in my mind, but I hadn't finished bonding with him. The rending of our efforts by Qui-Gon had left me addled, but not affected him at all.

I settled again, and let the memories, such as they were, flow in.

When I woke up, Qui-Gon was there, sitting beside me on the bed. I felt confused, dizzy, disoriented. But Qui-Gon was there, so it was going to be all right.

"Obi-Wan, how are you feeling? I knocked for a long time..."

I nodded -- speech was too hard. He looked concerned and haggard. My Master should never look that way. I reached up to touch the frown lines between his knit brows and smiled at him.

"Obi-Wan, we need to talk about what happened and why -- I know you want an explanation."

Talk? Talking was hard. I sat up -- and promptly fell over on my side. Dizzy and giggling, but Qui-Gon still looked concerned. He didn't think it was funny. I tried to be more serious, and he reached out and helped me sit upright.

Oh, those hands! Warmth and love and home -- no matter where we were -- they were all in those hands. And now we would never be apart because...

There was a sudden flash of pain and I cried out and thrust my face into Qui-Gon's chest. Better, that felt better. Warm and smell good and I started nuzzling him with my mouth. Needed to be closer, needed...needed...

He was talking to me again, too much talking but then he took my head in his hands and made me look at him.

So stern and I was giggling and trying to kiss his fingers. Oh, yes, that was what would make things better. Something was wrong, but whatever the unease was, that would make it better and I just needed to get closer and rub against him. Yes, that felt better but now he was moving away, and it got cold and...

"Obi-Wan!"

Concentrate. I tried to speak again, it was important to Master, but I couldn't and I shook my head. I can't, Master.

I must have done a bad thing because he let go of me and buried his head in those hands that had touched me.

Master, so sad, don't be sad. We're together! I started petting his head and that lovely long hair. So pretty.

He looked up and I smiled. See, everything is fine. Good and warm, then he laid me back on the bed and stroked my face and said something that made me yawn and then I was sleepy.

I'll close my eyes -- but just for a minute. Only a minute because Master is sad and I need to stroke him and make him happy.

I slept.

When I woke I was myself again, and alone in a dark room. The Field wing room. I lay still for a minute, wanting to orient myself. What had happened?

Then it all hit me and I sat up quickly only to cry out from a sharp pain that felt like I'd been lightsabered through my right eye. Breathe deeply -- concentrate. Slowly, the pain receded to a more tolerable level and I was able to stand.

I was no longer disoriented but I did feel...empty. The bond. We'd not completed the bonding! Xanatos! Pain...

Calm, calm, I calmed myself as I'd been taught and tried to look at the situation objectively. I badly needed to understand what had happened, but instinctively realized there was danger in actually doing so just now. So I mentally treated the situation like a crisis on a mission. Establish priorities and divorce yourself from feelings so overwhelming they could cripple you and get you killed.

I reviewed what I knew. Qui-Gon and I had begun a lifebonding process. I'd either gone farther than he, or I was more inexperienced and susceptible to the bond than Qui-Gon. Probably both, because Qui-Gon seemed functional, while I obviously was not.

I'd discovered Xanatos was alive. I had to shut my eyes against the pain, the disorientation, against the gibbering maelstrom it would be so easy to let wash over me.

Calm. Think.

Qui-Gon had broken the bonding -- obviously at a crucial time for me -- because I tried to discern Xanatos' physical location.

Qui-Gon. He'd tried to explain earlier. I checked a nearby chrono -- nearly a full day had passed. He'd been here before. Where was he?

Just realizing how much time had passed made me aware of my body's needs. I'd coaxed the pain to a tolerable level, and was able to stagger to the 'fresher, still clothed only in my robe.

I made short work of the facilities, then made my way the room's small, but well-stocked kitchen area.

Qui-Gon had always dwarfed the kitchen in our quarters... Stop. Stop. Assess the situation. Think, don't feel.

I wolfed down a protein bar, then promptly staggered back to the 'fresher and threw it back up.

All right, there were more aftereffects than I'd realized.

I started again -- slowly -- with some juice, and while it didn't settle well, it didn't reappear.

With my basic physical needs met, I examined the problem again. I considered simply comming Qui-Gon, and the thought of talking to him, seeing him, touching him almost overwhelmed me, but I maintained a kind of control. I wanted to understand more about what had happened. Perhaps he'd left me a message. I sat myself in front of the comm unit.

Yes. I reached out to activate the message, and my hands were only slightly shaking.

Any slight semblance of calm I'd gained was lost as Qui-Gon's hologram filled the small projector's surface.

"Obi-Wan..."

The image paused. It was not characteristic of my Master to be at a loss for words.

"You deserve an explanation for what has happened." He paused again, introspective, then started in a less formal tone.

"I loved Xanatos. For years after his death, I mourned him. Wondered what I might have changed in order to help him. We never shared more than a Master-Apprentice bond, but I planned to approach him after his Knighting.

"After he turned, I saw no one, was with no one. I know I've told you this before -- and I'm not sure you want to hear it now -- but you allowed me to feel again. I'll always be grateful to you for that. As you grew up, I grew to realize how beautiful you were, and, Force help me, I desired you.

"I thought to myself, if he ever feels the same about me, I will act on it. I'll not lose another opportunity. When you did, I was happy. I thought -- this is hard to say, my Padawan -- I thought I could begin again. That because you'd helped me enjoy life again, I could learn to be in love with you.

"But knowing Xanatos is alive, I cannot bond with you. I realize now..." He stammered, then started again. "I realize I was fooling myself. And knowing how you feel about me, it is not fair for me to be with you again in that way. Even it were, I couldn't. Not now.

"I hope, very deeply, that we can keep our friendship. I leave that up to you, and will abide by your wishes.

"You're probably wondering where I am. I'm sorry it was necessary to issue a Force suggestion to sleep, but you were not rational when we last spoke, and I knew you needed rest.

"I'm securing other quarters for Anakin and myself. Our rooms are yours for as long as you want them -- I've transferred them to you.

Ani is still staying with Plo Koon -- he's made friends with Plo's young Padawan."

Qui-Gon's image stopped. He glanced away from the holorecorder and towards his feet. I paused the recording for a few seconds to brace myself and then continued.

"I placed myself on the Field Knight duty roster again, requested an immediate mission, and was granted one about an hour ago. They know not to give me anything too dangerous or long-term with Anakin still not up to an Initiate's level training.

"I...exaggerated the amount of time it will take me to finish this mission, Obi-Wan. I already have my contacts in several systems looking for Xanatos, and I plan to take a day or two after completing the mission to search, should those contacts provide any leads.

"Obi-Wan..." He sighed deeply, and those eyes bored through the holorecorder and into me. "I tell you this because you would suspect, and probably work it out anyway. I ask that you not go to the Council with the information that I will be questing for him. They wouldn't understand. If you will allow me this, I would be grateful." His voice had dropped to a whisper. He looked as if he would speak again, but only shook his head slightly and reached towards me to stop the recording. The image crackled and disappeared.

Let no one say that Qui-Gon hesitates when making decisions and implementing them.

So that was it? He'd cast me out of his life and left me his quarters? He'd apologized to me, bade me not disclose his secret quest, and was off with a new Padawan to look for his old one?

Suddenly the answer became clear, and I chided myself for ever doubting him. Qui-Gon was suffering from the incomplete bonding. While I experienced pain, Qui-Gon had become delusional.

It was time to act. I knew my Master loved me, and it was up to me to rescue him, to get him to the Healers. Then the universe would make sense again, and everything would be fine.

My heart was thumping as I checked the duty roster. Qui-Gon's transport wasn't set to leave for another hour, and I breathed my relief. I quickly found the location of the quarters he'd chosen for Anakin and himself, and went to our old quarters to pack.

"I'm coming with you."

Qui-Gon had whirled, quite gracefully actually, and faced me where I stood inside the doorway he'd not bothered to lock. I set my travel bag on the floor just as Anakin walked into the sitting area, struggling with a pack that looked impossibly large for him.

"Master, should I take the spanner tool set AND the hyperdrive wrenches?" He stopped and smiled when he saw me. "Hello, Master Obi-Wan!"

"Hello, Anakin."

"Are you coming with us? That would be wizard!"

"Ani," cut in Qui-Gon, "you needn't pack any tools. We'll only be gone for a short time. Would you excuse Obi-Wan and me for a few minutes?"

His tone was kindly, even indulgent, but Anakin was as quick as I to pick up on Qui-Gon's suddenly darker mood. My smile faded, but my determination did not.

I would see him through this quest, and then we could pick up where we left off. My right temple chose that moment to start throbbing.

Ani looked confused, but dragged his heavy pack back into his room.

Qui-Gon turned to face me with a look of exasperation and sadness.

"Obi-Wan... what are you doing here?"

I stepped forward. "I told you, I'm going with you. If this is something you need to do -- have to do, then I'll see it through with you."

"You don't understand," he sighed.

"I think I do!" I finally raised my voice in frustration. "You haven't moved past the guilt, Qui-Gon. But you'll see, when we finally catch up to him that there's nothing for you to feel guilty for."

I paused. "I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I'll not give up this easily. Not to him."

"You hate him, don't you?" he asked quietly.

I had to laugh then, even though it ratcheted up the pain. "No. I have reason to; he tried to kill us on more than one occasion, but no. I've released that anger."

"Then release me."

I shook my head, but stopped, because the motion made me dizzy. I had all I needed to assuage that pain in this room... It was my turn to say, "You don't understand."

"Oh, but I do," he shot back. "You don't think my love for him has value, because he's strayed from the path of Light. You think I owe you, and maybe I do, but that debt will have to stay unpaid."

He began to pace. I wanted to scream, shout, shake him, but my feet were rooted to the floor and my throat was tight.

"Obi-Wan, don't you see? Our bonding was based on a falsehood. I didn't know the man I loved wasn't dead. It's tragic, but you are young. You will move on. You'll meet someone and wonder why you ever bothered with your old Master."

He stopped in front of me. "I care for you deeply, Obi-Wan. I always will. You're talented and vibrant. I told myself that should be enough. If my handsome Padawan-turned-Knight wanted to bond with me, then why should I refuse him?

"But you know what Xanatos means to me. I love him. I can't abandon him."

He spoke simply and forcefully, and I could see that he'd justified everything to himself. He really believed his love and determination could redeem Xanatos. And that I would look back on this episode of my life and chuckle as I told the tale to my new love. I wanted to tell him how much I was hurting, but I was afraid. Afraid that there was a way for the healers to undo even this sorry, fragile connection to him, and then I'd be left with nothing, not even pain.

I finally found my voice. "You may not owe me, Qui-Gon, but let me join you anyhow. Just until you find him and..." I had to word this carefully. "Until you find out for sure what mental state he is in now. It may not be safe for Anakin."

His eyes blazed at that, and I knew then that my earlier optimism was born of desperation. It was all lost, though I hadn't accepted it until just that moment.

"I can take care of my own Padawan, Obi-Wan."

Like you took care of me when Xanatos threatened us, I thought? Only by working together against him did we both survive, and I was further along in my training than Anakin. Ani didn't even have a lightsaber...

"Qui-Gon, surely you see that Anakin will be in danger," I persisted. Qui-Gon's eyes had narrowed to slits and it seemed that he was holding himself still only by willpower.

"You're stealing time for this...quest from your mission without telling the Temple coordinators or the Council. If something happens, they won't know where you are to help you..."

"You should leave now." His voice was low and dangerous.

No. He was my lover. We were pledged to each other. He'd kissed me openly in the Temple. I was going to help him through this and then everything would be all right. Maybe I shook my head, but I didn't budge.

He came to me then, glowering above me, and it was all I could do not to launch myself at him. The bond screamed at me to touch him... I looked at his eyes, beautiful even in anger. I could see the few loose strands of his hair that never seemed to stay pulled back. I could smell him.

"Don't..." I stammered.

His face softened, and he raised one hand out to me, like he was going to touch my face, and I leaned in. He caught himself before he touched me, stood back and wrapped his cloak around himself.

"Go now, Obi-Wan. You are a Jedi Knight. It's time for you to pursue your own path."

I was ready to play the last sabacc card I had. I was about to remind him he'd told me he loved me -- ME -- in a desperate, schoolboy, accusatory style. My mind, racing fast despite my body's sluggishness, cast about for an example. Any time when he had declared his romantic love.

And there was none.

He'd never told me he loved me. Not in words, I thought, but surely in thought -- through our bond.

No. Affection and happiness? Yes. Love and joy...no.

Oh, Force, he'd settled for me when the loneliness had become too much. I'd been a second choice all along and I'd never even realized it.

I opened my mouth to scream at him, to curse him, to say anything, but nothing came out. Then I was kneeling on the floor with my hands on my temples, trying to will away the new, stabbing pain.

I felt his arm on my shoulder. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

I snarled and stood up and backed away from him.

"Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!"

The door to Anakin's room flew open and he trotted out. "Master Obi-Wan?"

I fumbled for my travel bag, my eyes never leaving Qui-Gon's face with its startled expression. I found the bag and backed out the door, and out of his life.

Buzzing again. I brought myself out of the meditation, and found I was curled in a ball on the floor, with my hands clasped tightly around the back of my neck. My breathing was ragged. I'd never before left a meditation in a different physical position as when I started one, but then I'd never put myself through anything like this.

Buzzing.

The comm unit again, a reminder, not a message. It must be time. I uncurled and stood, my muscles protesting, joints and vertebrae popping.

I unwrapped the bundle of clothing that Anakin had sent to me. A black silk shirt and simple black leggings. Was he always this detail-oriented?

As I dressed, I reminisced about my life since that day nearly fifteen years ago. I'd wanted away from the Temple, of course. I remember walking back to our quarters, requesting a new room and a mission -- in that order. I only took what I needed, leaving most of our scant possessions behind. By the time I'd moved my essentials to the former, I'd received the details about my first mission as a Knight on my datapad.

There's little to remember after that. By chance I was assigned an undercover mission shortly thereafter to Defrell Prime. I excelled at my role, and the Jedi field agent with me realized that I was masking my own Force presence, and building a complete persona for my cover.

He was one of only a few Jedi skilled at such Force techniques himself, and began teaching me his specialty, never realizing that the sheer mental pain made it easier to exist outside of myself.

I soon surpassed his skill level, and began taking on missions that were more and more dangerous. I blended in with the scum and villainy of the galaxy, and was commended by the Council for doing so. By using what I called the "seamier" side of the Force, I learned to spy, infiltrate, suppress my own presence and even impersonate others by looks and voice. I became a key player in the effort to defuse Palpatine's elaborate network of darkness, and went everywhere from the Banking Guild's secret hideaway on Geonosis to the clone factories of Kamino.

My...specialized missions allowed me extremely high-level access to confidential records the galaxy over, and quite a bit of latitude and free time.

While Qui-Gon was busy shaving a day or a week off missions and using the time to attempt to track Xanatos from month- or even year-old leads with a young Padawan in tow, I quickly discovered where he was, and learned to predict where he would move to.

This was no longer the same nemesis that ran a corporate empire and dominated an entire planet on force of personality and by deadly cunning. Something had happened to Xanatos after his near-fatal escape on Telos -- some twenty-six years ago now, I realized with a jolt. He maintained a low profile, often staying in seedy quarters on backwater planets. He didn't seem to care that Qui-Gon was looking for him, although he knew he was being tracked, and he only moved on those (very) few occasions when Qui-Gon was actually close to discovering his whereabouts.

I didn't divulge Qui-Gon's secret obsession to the Council, but I didn't feed him any information on Xanatos, either. From my point of view, there was no way such a meeting would be beneficial to Qui-Gon, and it could be downright dangerous to Anakin.

Anakin.

One of the things I hadn't expected to miss when I was expelled from Qui-Gon's life was seeing Anakin grow up. I would catch glimpses of him and his Master at Temple -- all right, I conspired to catch glimpses -- and he grew like a weed. In height and in his grasp of the Force.

It wasn't long before I could call to him using the Force on those occasions when we were both at Temple, and he'd sneak away to meet with me. There weren't as many as I'd have liked -- I went on as many missions as I could, and Qui-Gon spent all their scant free time on his quest to find Xanatos. I was fond of meeting Anakin in the numerous Temple gardens, where we could talk undisturbed.

I didn't tell him outright that I knew where Xanatos was, but at some point several years into his Apprenticeship he figured it out.

"You're more attuned to him than Master Qui-Gon is," he stated flatly at one meeting.

There was always something disconcerting about how Anakin challenged authority -- and other people -- but I put it down to being raised by Qui-Gon. If I'd apprenticed the boy, he would surely be more demure and respectful.

"Perhaps..." I countered quite grumpily and left it at that, but he knew. While he was curious, I don't think he was in any hurry to meet Xanatos for himself, and never asked me for specifics.

At another meeting a few years later I said, "Anakin...let me know if by chance you are ever close to finding him. You have my comm frequency. Qui-Gon isn't thinking rationally about this, you know."

I didn't know how he would take me criticizing Qui-Gon, even with such a gentle statement. But he only nodded. His eyes were sad. "I know, but it makes him happy when he thinks we are coming close."

It was then that I realized just how much Anakin knew. He was curious, smart, and more gifted in raw Force talent than anyone of his generation. I'd been meeting him through the years to let him know I was a resource if things went bad, when he'd known all along what the game was. My respect for -- and discomfort with -- him went up several notches.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'd have liked to have been an... official part of your life, you know." I was surprised when I said it, but it was true. He gave me a sad smile and left. Our meetings were always short.

While I tried to stay in touch with Anakin, seeing him on as regular a basis as I could manage, he only contacted me a few times. I think he felt it was disloyal of him to do so. So when he did, it was with important news to impart.

One time was when he'd returned from a mission to Yavin at fourteen. On their way to the spaceport of the capital city, Anakin had felt a disturbance in the Force that only his senses were finely attuned enough to detect. Some powerful Force user was muting his or her presence. He'd made some excuse to Qui-Gon about stopping to pay off a contact, and told him he'd meet him at their ship. And then he'd circled behind Qui-Gon and kept his mental eyes open, soon finding the lurker following them.

It was Xanatos. He'd recognized the figure from holo pics Qui-Gon had showed him, and from his own clandestine research. His black hair was now streaked with silver, his face marred by faint scars, but he was dressed in characteristic black. He leaped from building rooftop to rooftop, keeping up easily with Qui-Gon's long stride through the dusty streets. Then, as Qui-Gon passed directly below him, he Force pushed a heavy piece of equipment from a warehouse roof down on him.

Except that the crate didn't land on Qui-Gon, it landed two steps behind and to his right, where his Padawan would normally have walked.

Qui-Gon looked up with his lightsaber raised, and Xanatos allowed himself to be seen, before disappearing into the teeming, crowded city with Force-enhanced speed.

Anakin quickly caught up to his Master, who'd extinguished his lightsaber and was standing mute as the startled crowd settled down, and the crate's six-armed green owner began screaming about her loss.

It got through to Qui-Gon, then, the danger he'd exposed them both to. Even as Anakin related the tale I wondered again about Xanatos' almost lethargic response. He could easily have killed Qui-Gon -- or he thought he could have -- but he hadn't bothered. Lethargic or indifferent, one thing seemed obvious: Purely by accident, they'd caught up to Xanatos, and his warning was clear. Stay away.

Qui-Gon gave up the quest after that, although he went on two personal trips to meet with "old friends." I didn't need an intelligence report to know where he was headed.

Another time when Anakin contacted me of his own volition, he was grown and nearly ready for Knighting at nineteen -- an astonishing accomplishment, considering his background. He and Qui-Gon had just returned from Tatooine. He'd been dreaming of his mother, and Qui-Gon took those dreams seriously, accompanying him to Tatooine in time to save her from certain death at the hands of an indigenous tribe.

In that instance, Qui-Gon had served him better than any other Jedi Master would have. I'd probably have told him not to center on his anxieties if I'd been his Master. His loyalty to Qui-Gon went up immeasurably after that -- it was a level of devotion that bordered on the dangerous.

But then what did that say about me, or about Qui-Gon himself? I kept my thoughts to myself as Anakin excitedly explained what had happened on his home planet.

I wasn't sure why he had asked to meet with me, but I felt a small and unaccustomed glow of contentment that another being wanted to relate an important piece of personal news to me. I think he wanted me to know Qui-Gon was all right and still grounded in the Living Force and the Light.

Whatever the reason, it was nice to sit and speak with him. I moved, those days...these days... almost as a ghost in the Temple. I went from one secret mission to another, more secret mission, and kept to myself when on Coruscant. I spent more time by far maintaining my network of contacts than connecting with fellow Jedi.

For once I could empathize with my old enemy. We were alike in our sterile, shiftless existences.

There had only been one time in fifteen years that I'd reached out to another -- and it had turned out rather badly.

Several years after Qui-Gon and I parted, a particularly nasty mission injury sustained after a fall into nest of gundarks necessitated an extended stay in the Healers' wing. It was there that I became infatuated by a newly appointed Healer named Desra Rau who was assigned to my rehabilitation. She was lovely, strong-willed and decisive, had a good sense of humor, and was obviously interested in me.

Anakin came by to visit with me in the infirmary at my behest, and he had grown so tall! I realized that nearly a year had passed since one of our infrequent meetings. I realized how alone I'd been keeping myself. I resolved in that instant to try and change things, even if the Force was screaming to me it was all wrong. I joked and talked a bit with Anakin and introduced the two, and when Anakin left I asked Des if I could see her when I was healed and out of her care.

We saw each other casually for several months, while I labored at physical therapy to regain my strength. I could tell she was beginning to care for me deeply, and I valued her friendship. I could also tell she was frustrated that I'd kept our relationship platonic. Finally, in her usual, direct manner, she asked if I would spend the night with her, and I accepted.

On the appointed evening, I arrived at her quarters wearing casual clothes and bearing a gift of a blooming plant from her home world. She made me dinner and we talked, then ended up on the couch, then in her bed. All the time we touched and undressed each other, the pounding, stabbing pain in my temple became worse, but I wasn't going to give into it, or to the feelings of wrongness and betrayal that were just as powerful. Why didn't I deserve this? Why must I still feel bound to Qui-Gon?

I'd sublimated my own physical desires since he and I parted through exhausting missions and meditations. On those rare occasions when the need became too much, I stroked myself quickly and efficiently, trying not to give into the bond's urge to think of Qui-Gon's large hands, his mouth, his sex. I sometimes succeeded.

But now I had a chance to be with another being -- one who actually desired me. Des was willing and excited, and I rolled us until I lay atop her, kissing her deeply and parting her legs with mine.

And then I knew I was going to be sick. Oh, not good.

At least I had enough of a warning to roll off her first before I threw up her dinner on the sheets.

As soon as I broke physical contact, the pain receded and the Force currents around me went back to their normal state, which meant disturbed but -- like the pain -- bearable again.

She was self-confident enough to realize the problem was with me, not her, but she was hurt when I wouldn't confide the whole truth to her. We parted with her thinking that I was only still pining for my old Master, and that was partly true.

The end of our...courtship was the last time I sought out Jedi companionship outside the boundaries of a mission. Two years later she bonded with another Healer.

That aborted relationship had driven home to me my need for isolation. The pain and the bond had stunted me in a crucial way, and if I hadn't been a Jedi -- if duty hadn't been drilled into me nearly since birth -- I probably would have chosen to excuse myself from this dim and pain-filled existence. Just like Qui-Gon thought Xanatos had all those years ago.

I finished dressing and put my Jedi cloak over the new clothes, pulled the hood up over my fine-textured hair, and set out for Qui-Gon's quarters.

When I got to Qui-Gon's quarters, Anakin was waiting for me. I was nearly in role now, and had wrapping myself in the Force presence I'd remembered on Bandomeer and Telos as surely as I'd wrapped myself in these clothes. He met me in a large sitting area with multiple cushions, and I cued him to check my mental work as I shucked the robe and donned the plasmer mask.

He closed his eyes and I felt him skim over my consciousness; then his eyes flashed open in surprise. He knew I was good, but altering one's own presence in this way, along with voice and mannerisms, was outside of most Jedi's talents. I'd wondered once or twice if this skill was even of the Light side, but the Council never questioned it, as it often served their purposes.

He nodded once, and I felt an incongruous bit of pride that I'd unsettled him, even frightened him a bit.

But this was what he'd wanted.

He turned and strode through Qui-Gon's bedroom door, and I dropped the last vestiges of Obi-Wan Kenobi as I followed.

The lights were dimmed -- maybe more for Anakin's comfort than Qui-Gon's, who could no longer see.

I'd steeled myself for any way Qui-Gon might look, as I knew his disease could often degrade the body as well as the mind, but he didn't look much different than the last time I'd caught a furtive glance, some three years ago in the Temple's hangar.

He was thinner -- that was to be expected of anyone bedridden for months -- and the hair was now more silver than silver-brown, but this wasn't some barely breathing monster. This was my Master. He slept uneasily, often gasping, and his eyes fluttered.

Anakin approached the bed and leaned over to him. "Master." Qui-Gon jerked awake and grabbed for Ani, clinging to his arm. "Master I found him."

Qui-Gon gasped, "Xani? You found him?"

"Yes, where you suspected he was. It took some...aggressive persuasion, but he agreed to see you. He's here."

"What?" Sightless eyes scanned the room and I felt him reach out with the Force in a jerky, frail way. He gasped when he "found" me.

"Qui-Gon, my old Master," I said haughtily, and Anakin glared at me. He didn't know what I'd planned, what I needed to do to make this work. Qui-Gon was sick and delusional, but not stupid. Anakin annoyed me -- arrogant Jedi pup, and I waved him away. Stupid Jedi, no wonder I left the Order. I only wondered why I'd wasted my time in their petrifying ranks as long as I had.

Reluctantly, with another glare almost comical in its intensity, Anakin pulled his arm from Qui-Gon's grasp and backed away from the bed.

Qui-Gon quieted and attempted to sit upright. He failed and the slight exertion left him breathless. I didn't help, but I did draw nearer. My boot heels made heavy thuds on the stone floor.

"Well, well. My Master isn't quite so powerful now as when he ripped my life away."

"Xani, Xanatos..." He coughed roughly and tried again. "Xan... I've wanted to talk to you for so long now. I have so much to say."

"Well, you've covered every iteration of my name there is. What is it you want to say so badly before I decide I'm as mad as you are for ever coming here?"

"Xan..." He calmed himself with effort, and then whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry, so sorry."

"That's a good start, Qui-Gon. Perhaps you could be more specific. There are things you did to my family and to me that require more than a general apology. There are things you did for which you should pay with your life... but it looks like that will happen soon enough."

Again I felt Anakin's anger, and fixed him with a glare as he took a step closer. He thought I'd planned this as some kind of twisted revenge. I pointed towards the door and he withdrew again to the wall, but didn't leave.

Qui-Gon reached out, and I allowed him to grasp my hand and pull me to towards him to sit on the bed.

"I love you." The words came from his throat as a forceful moan, more of a haunted cry than a statement. "I wanted so badly to lifebond with you, but I never told you. I thought it wasn't my place while I was still your Master."

I growled and pulled my hand free roughly, but remained sitting on the bed as Qui-Gon continued.

"You were so bright in the Force! If I'd told you, if you'd known, maybe you wouldn't have chosen the Dark path. Maybe I could have been your family."

He stopped then, and his breath became a series of panicked gasps. He'd planned this out, I realized, had probably planned what he wanted to say for years. Now that it was done he faltered. Exhaustion got the better of him, and his head lolled back on the bed as he closed his bloodshot eyes. Tears flowed from them, and streaked his lined face. He flailed about weakly for my hand. I allowed him to grasp it again; the hand that pulled mine to his lips was trembling badly.

"Please..."

The plea was a groan that came from the core of his being and he began to shake. It was time to complete my mission and ease his pain.

I reached out with my free hand and softly traced his face, then wiped away one cheek's tears with my forefinger. His eyes shot open and turned towards me and he quieted again.

"Master," I said, my own voice rough, and suddenly I no longer needed to be Xanatos to say what must be said.

"Damn you, Qui-Gon. I've tried so hard to stay angry with you. Anger drives me. It's the only thing that keeps the pain away.

"But I chose my path. I could have done anything after we...parted, but I became this," I hissed.

I took Qui-Gon's hand and raised it to my face to kiss it. He hungrily stroked my face and gasped as his touch revealed the scars he'd only glimpsed on Yavin. "Oh, my Xan, what happened?"

"I highly recommend not diving into acid pools to escape capture, even if you are covered in a supposedly acid-proof polymist ointment." Sarcasm could hide the pain.

"Oh," he groaned. "I drove you to that, oh, Xani. Part of me died when I saw you fall."

I bowed my head and let him stroke me while I regained my resolve and pushed away the pain from his words.

"How is it that you still love me?" I replied. "I've not wanted you to see what I'd become. It's why I ran when you searched for me."

Qui-Gon became agitated again, and grasped my shoulder with all his failing strength. I felt him draw on the last of his energy to speak clearly. "How? Oh, how could I not love you? You are my beautiful Padawan, the only person I truly loved. I failed you. You don't know, can't know how many times I went over what happened on Telos, and all the events of all the years leading up to that moment to pluck out the times I failed as your Master. The Council was jealous of your abilities and your lineage...

"But please, please forgive an old man who only loves you. I thought..."

Again he stopped and struggled against a racking cough. I lifted his head up, then pulled him into my arms to give him relief. His head came to rest against my black silk shirt, and he grabbed onto the material.

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was still steady. "I thought in my arrogance that if I could find you, if I could make you see the error of your ways, that it would bring you back to the Light. But that was vanity, because it was I who failed you all along..."

He broke off, and his face twisted as he fought to not cry, but I soon felt his harsh sobs against my chest.

"I... I put Obi-Wan and Anakin in harm's way tracking you, and if I'd ever driven you to hurt them, you would have been lost forever."

Oh, Master. What part of this was your illness talking, and what part did you really believe?

Force. Bandomeer... Did Qui-Gon know that Xanatos was on Bandomeer? How long had he been searching?

I shushed him, kissed his fingers, then laid him back gently and kissed his cheek and eyes.

He started to speak again, but I stopped him by stroking two fingers over his cracked and quivering lips.

"Master, I have done little worthwhile with my life, and I won't hear you apologize to me," I said and my own voice broke then. "I made my decisions knowing you loved me. I threw away that love, and our future.

"I still love you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I'd give anything to have you back."

"Xani," he said softly, "you never lost me."

Those words broke my resolve, and I cried freely then. I leaned down for a kiss, which he returned with a contented sigh as best as he was able. The pain that was always a part of every action, every waking minute eased when I my lips touched his, and something crumbled in me and I pulled him into my arms again and held him tightly while I sobbed.

"Shhh, shhh," he comforted. "It's all right now, Xan, you're home. Please don't leave." I shook my head. "I mean after I'm gone, please don't leave the Temple. Stay. Ani will find a way. Please stay."

I nodded against his neck and wept as the pain receded even farther at this close contact. I railed against the irony of what I'd done to gain that contact -- and became aware of a new pain, a simple physical pain which sucked all the air from my chest and made a band across my throat as my cries became hitching breaths.

I finally pulled back, and thought for a wild second that he was gone. His face was so peaceful and his eyes were closed. Then Anakin was there and he lightly carded Qui-Gon's hair from his eyes and whispered, "Master Qui-Gon, it's time to rest now."

No! I'd forgotten about the plan, forgotten how this was a kindness to Qui-Gon. The bond -- no, I -- never wanted separation ever again. I grabbed Anakin's tunics and tried to push him away. My leverage was bad; he braced himself and didn't move. My panicked resolve crumbed as he stared me back down to reality. After a long moment I nodded to him, and carefully gathered Qui-Gon into my arms again.

"Rest, Qui-Gon," Anakin said again. "We're here and we won't leave. Just rest, Master."

I could feel the Force energy he placed into those words. It was more than a suggestion, yet the tone was gentle as if he were taming a wild beast. Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered, then he relaxed fully, except for one hand, which still lightly gripped mine. His breathing slowed, and I instinctually sought his Force Presence. It was peaceful, joyous even, as it slipped quietly away. I felt then, in the last few seconds of his existence, what I'd never felt from him before. Unconditional love.

Without a thought, I sent my own Presence after his.

I chased, I craved, I wanted that love for myself, and so I stretched myself, willing to separate from this existence to feel the bond sated. To know that love again, even if it wasn't for me. But just when I thought I'd done it, just when I glimpsed and fully fathomed the Force energies that bind the universe, I began slipping back. I fought for the space of a thought, feeling rather like a child who says she will hold her breath until she dies.

But I retreated faster and faster until I was aware of sound, of light, of my body slumped over Qui-Gon's and then of falling onto the floor with a thump. And then I slipped away into nothing.

When I came to I was lying on the cold floor. My back ached, my face felt sticky, and I was momentarily disoriented. Someone had placed a blanket on me -- I could feel its warm weight. I opened my eyes and realized I was still in Qui-Gon's bedroom, beside his bed. Something brushed my shoulder, and I started, my imagination telling me it was his cold, dead hand, but it was only a bed blanket, hanging over the side. I pushed myself up on my elbows, expecting to see his body when I peered up above the level of the mattress...

Then the door flew open and Anakin was there. He knelt beside me and I let him gently push me back to the floor. I didn't have much of a choice. My slight movement had weakened me. My limbs felt shaky and I was dizzy.

"He's gone -- I've taken his body to the pyre chamber."

I didn't want to think about that, about Qui-Gon lying atop a stone slab, waiting for immolation. I felt cold inside, completely drained of sorrow, and disconnected from reality. There was an emptiness...the bond... But something told me not to think about that just now. I realized that I very badly wanted to stay in this detached state until I was away from here and back in my quarters. But Anakin was there and I had to deal with him. While I skirted around my grief, I couldn't keep all of my anger at bay, and asked shortly, "Just how long was I out?"

"It's been almost two hours now; we were worried." His eyes were red-rimmed and sad, but his voice was calm, almost as if nothing unusual had happened and he'd caught me napping. That voice frayed my patience.

"You left me on the floor for two hours?" I snapped.

"I told him not to move you," another voice said. "I wasn't certain about your condition."

I looked up, and confirmed what I thought. Desra Rau.

"Blast! Anakin, is there no insignificant detail of my life you don't know about?" I yelled weakly.

"Oh, thanks, Obi-Wan," she said, but her tone was more doleful than angry.

"Sorry, Des," I muttered as she, too, knelt beside me and gently pressed her fingertips to my temples.

Her touch eased my lassitude, but I didn't like the confused look on her face -- the Des I remembered was anything but hesitant.

"Can you stand up?" she asked.

Anakin and she had to help me as I carefully sat up, then moved to my knees, then stood. Something was different.

I wasn't nauseated, and there was no pain.

No pain. That happened sometimes. I'd wake up, or reassume my own persona after a mission, and I might be gifted with seconds, even blessed minutes before the pain came crashing back. But this was different.

I looked down at her worried face, and up at Anakin's anxious one.

"I'm fine... I think. Des, what's happened?"

She led me out of the bedroom, and nodded to Anakin, who left quietly. I caught this peripherally, being trained in observation, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was mesmerized by the absence of pain.

I took in the sitting room, even as Des had me sit on a low couch. When I'd arrived a few hours ago, it had been as Xanatos, and I'd not chanced loosing my mental focus by looking around. But now emptiness gnawed at me, and I needed to concentrate on something besides its cause.

The room was decorated simply, much as our shared quarters had been those many years ago. On a waist-high shelf that ran the length of one wall sat holo emitters with a variety of images. I thought my mental numbness meant I couldn't hurt any more, but seeing so many proudly displayed holopics of Anakin and Xanatos saddened me.

There was but one image of me, and I stared at it. It looked as if it had been taken in Council chambers -- in the background one could see the unique windows that afforded the spire chamber a grand view of Coruscant's government district. It was from a proceedings vidfile then -- an image of me briefing the Council after a mission; just standing there in full Jedi garb. I didn't know what to think of it, and I was tired, so tired, so I turned my attention to Des.

It made sense that Anakin would call her if he were worried about me, despite what I'd said to him. I had introduced them after all. I surely scared him by passing out, and he turned to the only person he'd ever seen me be friendly with.

"Obi-Wan," she asked, breaking me out of my unpleasant reverie, "what nature of bond did you have with Qui-Gon?"

I sighed. There seemed little point in subterfuge at this point. "It was a lifebond -- but only for me. I never told you. No one knew, not even Anakin."

She stared at me with an astonished look for a long minute, then shook her head. "That explains a lot. But how..."

"It's complicated," I interrupted. "Was complicated... He was a willing participant when we started but then..."

I couldn't explain it to her. Not now. I couldn't put myself through that again. The events of the day still seemed distant to me, and I needed to hold onto that feeling. I shrugged and said, "He wouldn't complete the bonding with me."

She said softly, "You must know this already, but the bond is gone now, Obi-Wan. That is why you're not feeling pain. The bond is not just dead -- it's as if it had never been."

Gone, all gone. But I couldn't think about that, wouldn't think about that. Something nagged at me, and as I glanced at the wall of holos, the anger bubbled up again. "Why does he have that picture of me? He had dozens of holos from when I was his Padawan. Why that one?"

I didn't expect an answer to my malapropos question, but Des gave one anyway. "You look confident. Independent and purposeful. Maybe that's what he wanted to believe -- that you were fine after all. That he'd raised to Knighthood a successful, powerful Jedi."

It made sense. After all, Qui-Gon was nothing if not a master of self-delusion. But I didn't want to think about that, and there was something I could now clear up with Des. I looked away from the holo image of myself. From the Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon wanted to see.

"Maybe...maybe now that you know about the bond, you can forgive me for being a cad that night," I chanced.

"I never thought you were. I knew there was a reason for all that, Obi-Wan, I just didn't know that there was no way out for you."

I stared at her, and the hum of anger I'd felt since waking was suddenly a roar. "My own little Menjordan Conundrum? Is that what you mean?" I spat out the words, surprised at my vitriol.

"Yes," she said sadly. "There was no way to resolution for any one of you." She kept her tone low, but stood up to my ire.

I leaned my head back on a soft cushion and closed my eyes against it all.

"What are you going to do now?" she finally asked, hesitantly.

"Get a drink. Wash the plasmer residue off my face. Grow my beard."

She snorted loudly, but didn't leave off.

"You could do diplomatic work again. It's what you were trained for, after all."

"I have observed that most diplomats prefer it when I sneak in the back door and eliminate their problems with...aggressive negotiations. But yes, I should now be able to center myself enough to do diplomatic missions. And to think it only cost fifteen years and the death of my Master to get me ready!"

I started to laugh then, but it sounded harsh even to me, and then the laugh turned into a cry, then a moan. I started to rock back and forth as indifference turned to anger turned to pain turned to despair. I must have screamed then, my throat felt raw afterwards. As much as I hated the pain, I always knew somehow that the alternative would be worse.

Des caught me and pulled me to her while I finally succumbed to the sorrow of the day, of the past fifteen years, of my life. She kept me seated so I wouldn't break anything or hurt myself or tear at my hair.

I spent myself, finally, and my tantrum was reduced to shaking hands and ragged breath. Des still had her arms around me, and I became aware of... Skin. The closeness of her, the softness of her breasts, the scent of her hair... It was like drinking Corellian fire-brandy on an empty stomach. My senses were immediately filled with the sight, smell, and feel of her, and then I groaned and pinioned her face with my hands and kissed her hard to taste her.

She allowed it, sat there calmly and passively until I pulled back and buried my head in my hands in shame, and then softly stroked my back.

"And that. What did it cost for me to be able to do that, Des?" I asked rhetorically. I gripped my hair, something I did when the pain became overwhelming, but there was no pain this time, only a tingle on my lips and an unwelcome ache in my groin.

I found the courage to look up at her, finally. "I apologize, Des. That's twice I've used you as an experiment." I paused. "Are you still bonded with Venna?"

"Yes."

"She's a lucky woman. I'd rather not have her come after me," I said with a very shaky laugh. It was a close as I could come to humor.

"I think I can hold her off," she said, and gave me an indulgent smile.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about upholding my reputation around you. You've certainly seen me at my worst."

"Oh, was that night the worst you could do? You didn't defecate on the bedspread you know. It's not like you to leave a job undone."

She surprised me and I laughed, and the sound was right this time, even though it ended in a hitched breath. My entire world was unhinged. I was laughing with Des in my dead Master's quarters, without pain, yet hurting so badly in my soul.

"But I've seen you at your best as well, Knight Kenobi. What you did in there," she nodded at the bedroom, "was unorthodox, but compassionate. I know you don't want to be, but you're finally free."

She was right. After all these years, the thought of being free of the bond was unsettling. It was how I'd defined myself. We sat for a few more minutes in the quiet room, until Des said, "I should probably be getting back. I was on duty when Anakin contacted me." She hesitated, then said almost shyly, "Please think about what I said."

"Thank you, Des," I said simply. "I will think about it. I already have an idea of what I have to do..."

She stood and held out her hand, and I let her pull me up and help me with my cloak. I gave her a hug, and a chaste kiss.

We walked to the door and I hesitated before leaving, looking around for some sign, some memento. But there was none. I'd left them all behind in our old quarters a thousand years ago.

We parted without words, and I drew up my hood and began the walk back to my rooms. I was still unsteady and it was slow going. The long summer day was coming to an end; through the corridor's windows I saw the sun glinting orange off the tall buildings surrounding the Temple.

I did know what I was going to do next. The plan had formed even as I'd spoken aloud to Des. I was going to meet Xanatos. There would be no searching involved. For the past three years he'd been in the same place -- a place Qui-Gon would never have looked. My contacts informed me that Xan had gone home. He lived in a small house, on the outskirts of a small village on Telos, far away from the bustling capital of Thani. He acted, under an assumed name of course, as a trader's agent, making sure the local farmers got an advantageous price for their goods at market. I had no doubt that with his abilities the people he served were enjoying the highest prices for their grain they'd even known.

He'd finally had his scars removed sometime before settling there -- they made him too distinctive for the anonymity he obviously sought among his people.

I didn't expect anything from him, and knew the most likely reception I would get would be hostile or indifferent at best, but there were questions I had to ask that only he could answer.

What had really happened between him and Qui-Gon that led to his leaving the order? What might explain the half-crazed, brutal existence he lived for ten years after that? I knew the official story; now I wanted to know the truth.

What might running from your Master most of your life do to a person?

For the both of us had surely been running from Qui-Gon Jinn, and he from and to us. Xanatos and I were inextricably linked by him.

Heretofore, the truth had not been my friend. But if I knew the whole story, or at least his point of view, maybe I could stop wondering 'why' and start to forgive and to heal.

I arrived at my quarters wanting nothing more than to mourn and sleep. But the hour was late, and I had to clean up and change my clothes for Qui-Gon's cremation. I didn't owe him anything, but there was one last thing that needed to be done that only I could do.

At his wake Anakin and I will be expected to speak, as his former Padawans. I will say Qui-Gon Jinn had a generous heart, and that he never knowingly hurt a soul. And that will be mostly true.

End