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(Continued from makingroom.html)

Part Four

When the door chimed, Qui-Gon straightened and stretched. He looked around with satisfaction, pleased with what he'd accomplished. His private study had been transformed.

The curtains were drawn open and the morning sun shone in, dappling the floor with warm light. The shelves and desk were bare and waiting. The sleep couch was freshly made. The room looked ready. Expectant, even.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he went to receive his guest. It was Tahl, of course, holding a covered tray. "Good news," she said with a smile. "I brought breakfast."

He laughed lightly, kissed her cheek, and ushered her in.

"Please, join me," he said. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thanks. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no. I've been up for hours."

She frowned at him. "You haven't slept at all, have you."

He took the tray from her without answering, and she scowled. "Have you been pestering the healers all night?" she scolded.

"No, Tahl," he said patiently. "I haven't called them once." She looked skeptical, so he explained. "Obi-Wan's shields are lowered. I've been checking on him from time to time. He's still asleep, and doing much better."

"Oh, Qui-Gon, I'm so glad to hear that," she said warmly. She followed him into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway as he prepared the tea. "Your training bond is very strong already, isn't it? Some pairs work for years to achieve that."

"It is strong," he agreed, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "We had a connection from the very beginning, much to my dismay."

Tahl grinned and listened to the running of the water and the quiet clatter of china as he worked. "You're different this morning," she observed presently. "You feel very... cheerful. Are you sure you're all right?"

He laughed again, an easy, relaxed sound that made her tilt her head, assessing.

"I'm very well, thank you," he assured her. He took her hand and pressed a mug of tea into it. "Come with me."

He led her into the common room and they settled comfortably on the floor. "Mmm. Still warm," he said appreciatively as he handed her a muffin. "Did you bake?"

His voice was innocent, but Tahl recognized a joke when she heard one. She snorted. "Don't make me laugh. I sent TooJay to the kitchen for them. That droid occasionally has its uses." She leaned back against Qui-Gon's big chair and took a sip of tea. "Now tell me. What have you been up to all night?"

Qui-Gon swallowed a bite of muffin and said contentedly, "I've been preparing my padawan's room."

"They're letting him return to his quarters? I can't believe they're releasing him so soon!"

"He's not returning to his quarters," Qui-Gon corrected. "He's moving in with me."

Tahl stopped chewing. "He's moving in with you?" she parroted. "That's wonderful! But... oh, Qui-Gon, you're *not* putting that dear boy in The Cave, are you?"

"The *cave*? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your cave. That dismal room you retreat to. That place you hide. Your fortress."

"My study?" he queried dryly.

Tahl gestured dismissively. "Call it what you will."

"It's not a cave," he said a trifle defensively. "I love that room."

"I stole a peek at it once, Qui-Gon. It's a cave. How you could meditate in there I'll never know."

Qui-Gon felt a little deflated. "It's not a cave," he grumbled. "And I don't hide."

"Oh *please*."

"You're being a rude guest," he chided delicately. "But, for your information, I spent the night clearing that room for Obi-Wan. And it looks very nice if I do say so myself."

Tahl put down her cup. "Show me."

"...Tahl."

She tsked impatiently. "I know I'm blind, Qui-Gon. But I can still 'see.' Show me."

Qui-Gon paused, then rose to his feet, pulling Tahl up with him. He put his hands on her shoulders, steered her to the study and pushed open the door.

Tahl entered the room cautiously and stood there for a moment. She stretched out her hand; her golden skin glowed in the sunlight. Carefully, she walked forward until her knee touched the sleep couch, which now occupied the center of the room. She sat down slowly and brushed her hand along the soft blanket. She breathed in deeply.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway watching her, feeling strangely nervous. He waited. When Tahl finally turned to face him, she smiled, and Qui-Gon thought she'd never looked so beautiful.

"He'll love this," she said.

As they walked down the corridor toward the healers wing, Tahl had to skip to keep up with Qui-Gon. "What I want to know," she said as she caught his robe and slowed his pace slightly, "is how in all the heavens you got Mace Windu to agree to this."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I haven't told him yet. He'll find out soon enough."

"Qui-Gon!" Tahl yanked on his sleeve and brought him to a stop. "Is this some kind of power play?" she demanded.

Qui-Gon looked genuinely surprised. "No, Tahl, it isn't. And... that's insulting."

The Knight shook her head and said bluntly, "What's insulting is ignoring Mace's authority in this situation. Don't show him disrespect, Qui-Gon. Like it or not, he is in charge of Obi-Wan right now. You are not."

Tahl couldn't see the annoyed, thin set of her friend's mouth, but she could easily feel him bristle at her comments. "Listen," she said. "If Mace's feelings don't concern you, at least, please, think about Obi-Wan."

"What do you mean?" he said in clipped tones. "Obi-Wan will be very happy about this."

"He'll be thrilled," Tahl agreed. "And that's precisely my point. You can't march into that child's sickroom and tell him he gets to move in with you, only to have him devastated when he's denied it. That would be cruel, Qui-Gon."

Tahl listened to the angry sound of Qui-Gon's breathing and was faintly surprised when he suddenly said, "You're right."

Qui-Gon sighed, took a moment to release his frustration, and continued calmly. "I'll talk to Mace first. I will ask... permission...," his teeth clenched at the word, "to have Obi-Wan move in with me."

Tahl nodded with approval. "Good."

"But I'd still like to see Obi-Wan right now." He took her arm. "Let's go."

When Qui-Gon saw the little group in the waiting room, he abruptly stopped, nearly tripping Tahl.

Mace Windu and Master Sedjik were talking quietly together, with Aalto Ai'dain standing uncomfortably beside them, fingering the bandage near his left temple. Aalto saw Qui-Gon first, and took an unconscious step backwards.

"Um," said Aalto in an inarticulate attempt to announce Qui-Gon's presence. Mace and Sedjik glanced up.

Qui-Gon eyed them warily. "Why are you here?"

"Master Sedjik has requested that Aalto be allowed to see Obi-Wan," explained Mace.

"He may not," Qui-Gon calmly informed them.

"The healers have already consented, Qui-Gon, and so have I," said Mace easily. "This is no concern of yours."

"No *concern*..." stammered Qui-Gon in disbelief, as Tahl exclaimed, "Mace!"

Mace blinked, then spoke with faint but sincere regret. "I am sorry. I phrased that badly. But... Qui-Gon, this is a matter over which you have no authority."

Qui-Gon's shaking hands opened and closed impotently, and he slowly folded them into the sleeves of his robe. Tahl tightened her grip on his upper arm, and he felt simultaneous gratitude and annoyance at her restraining presence.

The silence lasted only seconds, but it seemed painfully long. Aalto looked ready to flee; however, it was his whispered aside to Master Sedjik that broke the stillness. "If... if he doesn't want me to...." he tried meekly, and Sedjik sharply said, "Hush."

The diminutive master took a step toward Qui-Gon, who was fairly vibrating with controlled anger. Her brown eyes were strong-willed but warm, and she held out a conciliatory hand. "Qui-Gon, allow me to reassure you. My request is intended as a correction for my student, and a learning experience for both boys. The visit is an apology. I intend no harm or disrespect to you or your former apprentice."

"He is not my *former* apprentice," seethed Qui-Gon. "He is my padawan."

"Qui-Gon...," grated Mace, his exasperation poorly veiled. He blew out a breath and suddenly turned to Aalto and Master Sedjik. "Go. See Obi-Wan. The decision is mine to make, and I've made it." He looked pointedly at Aalto. "Keep it brief. Keep it civil. Now go."

Sedjik put her hand on Aalto's shoulder and guided him away. The boy glanced back nervously as though afraid Master Jinn might attack from behind. He saw Qui-Gon's expression and picked up his pace.

Speechless, Qui-Gon watched them go. He barely noticed when Tahl left his side.

The Knight strode forward, stretching a hand before her until it met Mace's solid chest. "Master Windu, a word with you, please," she said quietly.

Mace's eyes sought Qui-Gon's. Their gazes locked and held, even as the Councilor allowed Tahl to lead him from the room.

Once alone, Qui-Gon pulled his clenched fists from inside his robe. He stared down at his hands and flexed them slowly. Powerless, they trembled.

"What the *hell* was that?" demanded Tahl, dropping all pretense of decorum.

Mace's brows rose in surprise at her tone, but he was given no chance to respond.

"I no sooner lecture Qui-Gon about showing you disrespect, when you casually *diminish* him with a callousness that amazes me! And I accused *him* of playing power games!"

Mace shrugged her off, irritated. "I'm not playing games. I have a job to do, and I'm doing it. And I don't have time for speeches from you, Tahl."

"Well, *make* time, Mace!" Tahl heard the uncharacteristic fury in her voice, and immediately fought to calm herself. When she spoke again, it was with a reassuring trace of her usual humor. "You know, you should be thanking me for your rescue. Qui-Gon was about to go for your throat. Force knows *I* wanted to."

Disarmed, Mace smiled wryly. This was the Tahl he knew and liked so well. "Qui-Gon has a good friend in you," he said as he led her to a nearby bench. "He doesn't deserve you, Tahl."

"Of course he doesn't. Don't change the subject."

Mace sighed wearily as they sat. "Tahl, I'm not trying to be difficult or cruel. I agreed to Master Sedjik's request because I felt an apology between these boys was perfectly reasonable and appropriate. It will be good for them both."

"You're probably right about that. But Mace. Put yourself in Qui-Gon's place. He cares so deeply for Obi-Wan! That child is the first person he's allowed into his heart in nearly ten years, and you're trying to shut him out of his life. I'm sure you have logical reasons for your doubts about their relationship, but please. Please don't tie Qui-Gon's hands. I know his defiance frustrates you. But he'll acknowledge your authority if you'll just allow him a *role* in this process."

Mace looked down into her green and gold eyes, which were focused earnestly on his left shoulder. He gently lifted her chin toward his face, and Tahl smiled somberly at him. "You say you want what's best for both of them," she persisted. "So talk to Qui-Gon. Listen to him. Consult with him about Obi-Wan." She shook her head. "You can't expect him to stop caring for this boy, Mace. You can't. *Please* respect his feelings."

After a long, thoughtful silence from her companion, Tahl was once again surprised to hear, "You're right."

Qui-Gon studied his hands, resolutely steadied them, then lifted his head. He strode grimly off toward Obi-Wan's room.

But he stopped a few paces into the hallway, his attention drawn to the scene before him. From a discreet distance, he watched as Master Sedjik spoke softly to Aalto Ai'dain. The boy was many years younger but several inches taller than his teacher, and he looked down into her face seriously, nodding in acquiescence at whatever she was telling him. Then Sedjik reached up, patted his cheek, and gave him a little push toward the door. Aalto opened it slowly, peered inside, then went in.

As the door closed behind the boy, Qui-Gon advanced down the hall and Sedjik caught sight of him. He saw her lift her chin and steel herself for a confrontation. But he merely approached and stood non-threateningly before her. "Do you trust him?" he asked quietly, his eyes beseeching her for honesty.

"Not as far as I can throw him," answered Sedjik frankly. "But he will behave with Obi-Wan. I promise you that."

Qui-Gon nodded, then gazed pensively at Obi-Wan's door. He had a fierce urge to throw it open, fling Obi-Wan's attacker from the room, and carry his padawan back to the sheltering walls of the new home that awaited him. To hell with Mace Windu and his Force-forsaken authority.

The need for restraint galled him. But for the sake of his future with Obi-Wan, he would find the strength for surrender.

Sedjik considered his profile, the rigidity of his shoulders and the flicker of tension in his jaw. "You never thought you'd take another apprentice, did you, Qui-Gon?" she asked candidly.

"No," he murmured.

"Neither did I. But I'm about to ask that undomesticated child in there to be my padawan. Can you believe it?"

"No," he repeated, turning to her with the vaguest hint of a surprised smile.

Sedjik sighed. "I'm too old for this. But what can I say. I love a challenge."

The two masters turned back toward the door, contemplating.

"The Force moves in mysterious ways, doesn't it, Qui-Gon?" Sedjik remarked, pondering.

"Very mysterious," agreed Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan was resting quietly, eyes closed, waiting patiently for the one he knew would come. He felt sore and weak, but immeasurably better than yesterday, and he intended to display nothing but reassuring strength to his visitor. When he heard the door open, he raised his eyes in welcome... but his smile died on his lips when he saw, not his master, but Aalto Ai'dain standing in the doorway.

The other boy stood awkwardly, glancing from the foot of the bed to the cardiac monitor and back. Finally, he cleared his throat and lifted his face toward Obi-Wan, focusing somewhere in the vicinity of his pillow. "Hello," he muttered. "Obi-Wan."

"Hello, Aalto," answered Obi-Wan slowly, his eyes narrowing with distrust.

When Aalto made no move to progress their conversation beyond the opening pleasantries, Obi-Wan said, "So... what are you doing here? Does Qui-Gon know you're here?"

Aalto's eyes shifted nervously. "Um... yeah. He, uh... knows."

"Oh," said Obi-Wan, surprised.

"He's really mad, though," volunteered Aalto. He managed a half-hearted sneer. "Guess he thinks I'm dumb enough to attack you even though you're strapped to a machine and this place is crawling with masters."

Obi-Wan swallowed. "But... you're not dumb enough to do that, right?"

Aalto shrugged. "No. I guess not."

"Well... good."

"So. You're hurt pretty badly, huh?"

Aalto seemed a little too self-impressed for Obi-Wan's taste. "Oh, I'll live," he responded, nonchalant. "Sorry to disappoint you."

His visitor snickered at that, but Obi-Wan refused to join in. He'd stopped being intrigued by Aalto's presence and was ready to get to the point. "Why *are* you here, Aalto?"

Another shrug. "Windu and Sedjik said I should apologize to you, so.... Sorry."

Obi-Wan's interest abruptly returned. "They're making you apologize to me? Why?"

Aalto shifted his feet, and it was clear he wanted to avoid the question. "Because... I told them the truth," he mumbled. "Told them I started the fight."

Obi-Wan stared at the other boy, open-mouthed. "You told.... I... I was sure you'd *lie*! You told the truth? I can't believe you told the truth!" Raising his voice was a mistake; Obi-Wan choked on his words and coughed harshly. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around himself in desperation, trying to control the breathtaking pain in his chest.

Aalto looked alarmed when the coughing persisted, and he took a few faltering steps toward the bed. "Hey. Hey, stop it. You need a drink?" He quickly poured out a glass of water from the bedside table and thrust it at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's eyes were screwed shut tightly and he made no move to accept the glass. He focused on his pain, releasing it as best he could. When his coughing subsided, he lay there weakly, concentrating on slowing his respiration and heart-rate.

Once he'd recovered himself sufficiently, he opened one eye and surveyed the very startled boy who hovered near the bed. "You told the truth," he murmured with profound amazement, knowing full well his words and tone were insulting.

Aalto set the water glass down hard, carelessly spilling on the tabletop. "Yeah, I did. Guess I'm just a really great guy. Sorry I hit you."

"And kicked me," Obi-Wan helpfully reminded.

"Yeah, that too," said Aalto impatiently. "I have to go, Obi-Wan." He took a step backward.

"Wait." Obi-Wan turned serious. "Wait, Aalto. I'm.... I know you're upset about Bruck, and--"

Aalto interrupted angrily. "Let's do this without talking about Bruck, all right? I will not speak to *you* about *Bruck*!"

Obi-Wan bit his lip, and nodded.

Aalto caught his breath, disturbed by his emotional outburst. "Look, just... accept my apology and apologize back so I can go, okay?" He tried to assume a cool, aloof air, and resumed his earlier preoccupation with Obi-Wan's pillow.

But the fierce, lonely grief Aalto was hiding washed through Obi-Wan with staggering intensity, leaving him guilt-stricken and distressed. It stole his breath, reminding him of the desolation he'd felt at his own friend's death. He shut his eyes, suddenly afraid the tears he had shed during Bant's visit might return to humiliate him again. Force, he'd thought he was over this. Where was his control? He needed Aalto to leave. "I accept your apology," he said in a heartfelt whisper. "And I'm sorry, too. Very sorry."

Obi-Wan's obvious anguish and sincerity seemed to unbalance Aalto, robbing him of the bitter animosity which had been his refuge since Bruck's death. Confused, he drifted toward the door. "Okay, well... I'll go then." He paused and looked back at Obi-Wan, who lay pale and unmoving, eyes closed, face turned away. "Obi-Wan?" he said, hesitating. "Get well, and... may the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan turned his head, stunned, but Aalto was already slipping out the door.

Part Five

In the hallway, Aalto walked past the two waiting masters without a word or glance. Sedjik looked up at Qui-Gon, concern furrowing her brow, then she strode off to catch up to her student.

The apprehension Qui-Gon had been prudently banking flooded him again, and he quickly pushed through the door into Obi-Wan's room. At first, his apprentice seemed not to notice him; the boy gazed beyond him unseeingly, an empty expression on his drawn face.

Slowly, Obi-Wan looked up at his master. Qui-Gon watched as the blank features dissolved into a bewildered sadness. Oh, he looked lost.... Qui-Gon swept to his side, seating himself by the bed and taking Obi-Wan's cold hand into his own.

The comforting gesture seemed to upset Obi-Wan, and though he didn't pull his hand away, he turned his face from Qui-Gon and brought his other hand up to cover his mouth.

Qui-Gon felt it then, and saw it; the faint tremors that seemed to take control of his padawan's body, shaking his limbs and his shoulders almost imperceptibly.

Obi-Wan spoke, more calmly than Qui-Gon would have expected. "Master. May I be alone, please?"

Qui-Gon ignored the request. "Did he hurt you, Obi-Wan?" he asked in a soft voice that hid his tension well. If this enforced visit had harmed his padawan in any way, Qui-Gon would not forgive Mace Windu, would not forgive himself for allowing it to happen....

But Obi-Wan shook his head. "No." His voice was muffled. "He apologized, he wished me well." His hand began to shake within Qui-Gon's, and the master pressed it more firmly between his palms. "I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan suddenly gasped. "I don't know what's wrong with me!" He drew a quick, shuddering breath and tried to pull his hand away, but Qui-Gon only tightened his grasp and reached out to capture the boy's other wrist, pulling it down, exposing the naked grief and shock that twisted Obi-Wan's young face. "Oh," breathed Obi-Wan, embarrassed. "Go! Don't...." He couldn't finish the sentence, and he bowed his head away, ashamed.

"I'm not going to leave, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon quietly informed him. His fingers brushed Obi-Wan's chin, bringing the anguished face toward him. "Don't turn from me, Padawan."

Obi-Wan was unwilling to look up. "I'm all right. Please go. Please, could you--" His breath hitched in his chest, startling him. His desperate efforts at control were failing, he was failing.... "I'm sorry," he whispered again, an edge of panic in his voice. "I'm... I can't...." He finally raised his questioning eyes, bright with fear and unshed tears. "Master," he pleaded.

Carefully, Qui-Gon leaned over and drew his trembling apprentice into his arms. Mindful of the boy's agitation and his fragile physical condition, he pressed Obi-Wan's head to his shoulder, resting his cheek on his padawan's hair.

Obi-Wan hadn't been held like this since he was a young child, and he wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't want to be weak, didn't want to need this.... but the warmth and safety he found in his master's embrace overwhelmed him; the tears spilled from his eyes. "What is this?" he whispered. He winced as a sob wracked his injured body.

Qui-Gon slid a hand to the center of the boy's chest and eased the pain with a gentle wave of Force. "You've been injured, you're tired, drained," he said, his voice soothing and patient. "Your control is affected, Padawan. Don't be afraid." He listened to Obi-Wan's struggle for composure. "Is this about Bruck?" he suggested softly.

Obi-Wan murmured brokenly into his shoulder. "I don't know... I think so... and...."

"Shh. You're fine. We haven't had time to deal with this yet. We will. It's all right."

Obi-Wan could hear no censure in Qui-Gon's voice, no reprimand for his shameful lack of control. There was nothing there but compassion, nothing but strength, affection, support.... With a gasp, Obi-Wan gave in. He wrapped an arm tight around his master's waist, his fist clenched urgently into Qui-Gon's tunic, and he cried.

Mace Windu backed silently from the doorway and leaned against the corridor wall, dazed. He'd come looking for Qui-Gon and had found... well, *Qui-Gon.* The Qui-Gon he once knew. The warm, open man that Mace feared had left the Jedi Order on the same day Xanatos did, nearly ten years before. But here he was again -- kind, strong, unreserved, sometimes tender-hearted to a fault -- and big as life in the next room.

Mace shook his head in wonder, a smile growing, brightening his dark eyes. He'd feared his old friend was lost, replaced by a remote Jedi master who Mace often felt was a stranger to him. Somehow, Obi-Wan Kenobi had found Qui-Gon Jinn.

Mace laughed softly. He'd have to thank that boy.

Obi-Wan's tears gradually slowed and stopped, and he lay quietly, finally at rest. His hand still clung limply to the back of Qui-Gon's tunic, his head was pressed to his master's damp shoulder. He felt exhausted, and utterly incapable of moving. He lay still, allowing himself to be comforted by the warm breath in his hair, the warm hand on his back, the rhythm of the heart that beat beneath his cheek. He could fall asleep here, he thought wearily.

Oh, Force. What if he fell asleep here. What a *baby*, crying himself to sleep in his master's arms. What Qui-Gon must think of him! Awkwardly, Obi-Wan lifted his head and drew away from his master's embrace.

Qui-Gon settled his student carefully against the pillow, and smiled. "Feel better?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Yes. Thank you, I...." He noticed the sodden patch on his master's tunic, and grimaced. "I got you all wet."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "It'll dry."

"I'm... so sorry, Master. I haven't behaved like that since...."

...Cerasi. Obi-Wan fell silent, remembering his grief and the soul-numbing loneliness that accompanied it. There had been no one to hold him then, no one to turn to for comfort. He'd nearly lost himself in his mourning.

Qui-Gon nodded, knowing where his apprentice's thoughts dwelt. He reached out one finger and neatly wiped away a tear that clung to Obi-Wan's jaw. "It's all right, you know. Don't be ashamed of your grief. Don't fear it. It has its time and place, Padawan."

The master held his student's gaze. "There will come times you must remove yourself from it, though. Duty first, Obi-Wan. It is the nature of our calling, and you understand this, I know."

"Yes. I do," said Obi-Wan.

"But it is necessary to confront your emotions, not to suppress them. Examine your feelings about Bruck's death, Padawan. Know yourself. And know this: You were not responsible for his fall. His choices, his mistakes, and the power of the Dark Side led to his death. You did what you could to save him."

Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan's tentative nod of acknowledgment, then said, "Meditation will bring you peace. And I will help you."

"Thank you, Master." There was a wealth of gratitude in the quiet voice.

This scene was familiar. Qui-Gon realized that he and Yoda had said nearly the same words yesterday, when they'd spoken of Xanatos. He was struck by the symmetry, by the natural cycle of things -- death and life, injury and healing, guilt and pardon. Masters and Padawans.

He could imagine Obi-Wan replaying this scene in the future, with a child as yet unborn. A knight offering strength in his padawan's struggle with darkness and pain. Obi-Wan would be a good master. Qui-Gon smiled. They were links in a chain that stretched back through a thousand generations, and, Force willing, would stretch through a thousand more.

But for the present, there was healing to be done, his own and Obi-Wan's. They would work through this together -- their grief, their guilt -- and would emerge stronger, as master and padawan, and as Jedi.

Qui-Gon ached to tell Obi-Wan of his plans, of the new home that waited for him. For them both. But... duty first. Qui-Gon sighed. Mace Windu first.

Qui-Gon looked down at his padawan. Exhaustion painted dark shadows beneath the still-bright eyes. The boy was watching him, no doubt curious about his master's thoughtful silence.

Obi-Wan spoke timidly. "Master, may I ask...."

"Anything."

"About... Telos." Obi-Wan found himself unable to say Xanatos' name to his master just now.

"Yes?"

"Master, have... have you found peace?"

Qui-Gon didn't speak for some time, and Obi-Wan wished he could take back his presumptuous question.

Finally, carefully, Qui-Gon answered with honesty. "My Padawan, when I speak to you about facing your emotions, about not suppressing them.... I speak of a lesson I have been very slow in learning. I hold much about Xanatos within me, much that remains to be conquered. I still seek peace. I will for some time."

Obi-Wan was moved by the candid reply he'd been honored with. He reached out and tentatively touched Qui-Gon's hand. "Master, what you said to me about Bruck.... Your words are very wise." He dropped his eyes, but his voice was earnest as he softly quoted, "You were not responsible for his fall. *His* choices, *his* mistakes, and the power of the Dark Side led to his death. You did your best to save him."

Astonished, Qui-Gon regarded his young apprentice. He reached down and pulled free the braid caught beneath Obi-Wan's shoulder, running it absently through his fingers. "You have helped me so much already, my Padawan," he reflected, "and you don't even know it. You've helped me to put the past in its place. And to make room for the future."

Suddenly, Qui-Gon dropped the braid, tousled his padawan's hair in a surprisingly affectionate gesture, and stood. "And I must tend to the future now, I think," announced Qui-Gon with a smile. Abruptly he turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, "Rest well, Obi-Wan. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Mace Windu. Where in seven hells was Mace Windu, grumbled Qui-Gon. For two days the man had habitually appeared when he was least welcome, and now when Qui-Gon actually *wanted* to see him he'd disappeared.

The Council wasn't in session, Mace wasn't in his offices or rooms, he taught no classes at this time... not in the training halls, not in the gardens, no one had seen him... where the devil was he hiding himself? Frustrated, Qui-Gon pushed through the door of his quarters.

...And found the object of his fruitless search sitting placidly on his sofa. Drinking his tea, reading one of his books, and eating his last muffin.

"Master Windu." One eyebrow arched sardonically. "No need to stand on ceremony. Please, make yourself at home."

Mace glanced up from the book and swallowed his mouthful. "Qui-Gon. Good muffins. Did you bake?"

Qui-Gon stared at him. "No, Mace, I didn't bake."

"Oh." Mace raised his mug. "Care for some tea?"

"A gracious offer. No no, don't get up. I believe I know where everything is."

Clearly, sarcasm had no effect on Mace Windu. The man merely nodded and resumed reading. Qui-Gon stood staring for a moment longer, then moved into the kitchen, poured himself a cup and returned. He watched as Mace licked his thumb and turned a page.

"Good book," murmured Mace.

"I know," said Qui-Gon.

Finally, Mace looked up, as though truly noticing Qui-Gon for the first time. "Forgive me!" He set the book aside and motioned to a chair. "Please, have a seat."

"Too kind," said Qui-Gon, sitting.

For all of Mace's outward ease and insolence, Qui-Gon sensed a bit of discomfort from him. Interesting. Mace had certainly never felt uncomfortable lecturing him before, and Qui-Gon could only assume that's why Mace had lain in wait for him here -- to lecture him once again about Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon steeled himself. He had sought out Mace with one goal in mind: to be granted permission to take in Obi-Wan despite his probationary status. Qui-Gon resolved to listen calmly to the inevitable speech. He was prepared to acknowledge Mace's authority -- his *temporary* authority -- over Obi-Wan. He was prepared to acknowledge his own lack of official recognition as Obi-Wan's master, if that's what the Councilor wanted so badly to hear.

Mace cleared his throat. "Qui-Gon. We need to clarify some things between us."

"I agree."

"Do you? A promising beginning. First thing we've agreed upon in some time."

"True."

Mace paused, and for a moment Qui-Gon thought he seemed uncertain of how to proceed. Most unusual. But the moment passed, and Mace inclined his head. "Tell me. How is Obi-Wan?"

"As well as can be expected. His injuries are healing adequately." Qui-Gon looked down, studying the cup dwarfed within his large hands. "But much has happened in the last months. My... Obi-Wan... is recovering from many things."

Qui-Gon knew Mace noticed his avoidance of the word "padawan." It was a small concession, perhaps, but Mace would understand how it cost him to yield on this.

The Councilor leaned back and steepled his fingers. Qui-Gon waited; he had offered an opening, and Mace was too skilled a duelist not to press the advantage.

"*Your Obi-Wan* is a challenge for me," Mace began sedately. "He has been my charge for only one day, and an all-consuming task it has been, too. Though it occurs to me that my interactions with the boy have been practically non-existent. Instead, I've spent much of my time defending myself from you."

Submission was not typically in Qui-Gon's nature, though he could acquiesce with ease when needed. Well, perhaps not with *perfect* ease. "Master Windu, I apologize. Despite your reprimands, I've had poor success at inhibiting my concern for Obi-Wan. My desire for his well-being has led me to be less than cordial to you, and I am sorry."

Mace smiled to himself. A backhanded apology, but he would accept it. "I, too, am concerned about Obi-Wan," he said mildly. "He will need care during his recuperation, and my schedule won't permit me to provide the attention he needs. Qui-Gon, I wanted to advise you of this personally. I have decided to release Obi-Wan into the custody of a guardian."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. So this was why Mace had come to see him. To urge his cooperation, his non-interference as Obi-Wan was given to another's care?

"Mace. Please..."

"Hear me out, Qui-Gon. I understand your concerns, and I want to assure you that I've selected the boy's guardian carefully. He'll be in the best possible hands."

"Mace--"

"Once he has recovered, Obi-Wan's probationary period will begin in earnest. His guardian will assist with meeting the terms of his probation and will consult with the Council to determine when the boy is ready to resume duty as a padawan."

Qui-Gon drew a steadying breath. "Mace. This guardian. Does he know Obi-Wan? Does he know what he's been through recently? If I could speak with him, I could--"

"That won't be necessary, Qui-Gon."

A pause, then Mace leaned over and pried the cup from Qui-Gon's hands. "You'll shatter this if you're not careful," he muttered. "Now." He frowned. "About your quarters. They simply won't do."

Qui-Gon looked up slowly. "My *quarters*?"

"I have a reputation as a stern man, Qui-Gon, but even I wouldn't consign Obi-Wan to The Cave."

"...The cave.... Mace?"

"That's what we all call it, you know. Hardly a fitting room for a young boy. Surely you can't expect him to move in there."

Qui-Gon blinked. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "It's not a cave," he said quietly. "It's Obi-Wan's room. Let me show you."

Part Six

After a conversation with Obi-Wan's healers, Qui-Gon slipped quietly into the boy's darkened room. He found that his apprentice wasn't alone.

Master Yoda was perched on the bed, his gnarled hand resting on the sleeping boy's shoulder. The old Jedi's eyes were closed, his mouth pursed into a thoughtful frown of concentration.

Qui-Gon moved to leave, but Yoda opened his eyes and beckoned to him. "Healing well, he is," he grunted softly.

Qui-Gon nodded and glided silently to the bed. "The healers say he may be released tomorrow."

"Take him home you will, hmm?"

"Yes," said Qui-Gon, surprised. "You know about this?"

"Spoke with me, Mace Windu did."

Qui-Gon studied him. "Master, was my guardianship of Obi-Wan your suggestion?"

"Interfere I do *not*, Qui-Gon," Yoda said with a scowl. "Mace's own idea it was. Sought my approval he did."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I thank you both," he said sincerely.

"It is as it should be." Yoda turned and contemplated Obi-Wan, whose face was serene in sleep. "This one," he murmured, "much to accomplish he has, and strong he must be. Guide him well, Qui-Gon."

The enormity of the task before him weighed on Qui-Gon for a moment. He knew with certainty that he was meant to train this boy. And yet, for so many years, he had vowed that his days as a teacher had ended. Learning to trust himself again was far harder than trusting another apprentice.

Yoda held out a hand, and Qui-Gon took it obediently. The ancient master pressed Qui-Gon's hand to Obi-Wan's heart, and covered it gently with his own small claw. "Patience he will need," intoned Yoda. "Much patience to fulfill his destiny, and this you must give him. Prepare him, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, but looked at Yoda with a troubled brow. His voice was hushed. "Master Yoda, what do you see?"

Yoda's eyes narrowed. "Uncertain the future is. Clouded, dark. A great task, I see for him. Much courage he will need, and this he has. But help him to learn patience you must."

"My Master... I will," Qui-Gon pledged.

Yoda shook off his somber mood and slanted a look at his former padawan. "Happy you are. This I've not felt from you in some time. Pleases me it does."

"I *am* happy," said Qui-Gon, sounding faintly amazed.

Yoda patted Qui-Gon's hand. "No longer do you need The Cave, my Padawan. Prepare it for Obi-Wan you should, hmm?"

Qui-Gon gave an exasperated sigh. "The room is ready, Master, as I've already told Mace and Tahl."

Yoda chuckled. "Good friends you have, Qui-Gon. Care for you they do." He began to carefully struggle his way off the bed. "Waking, your apprentice is. Leave you with him I will."

The old master limped to the doorway, mumbling quietly to himself. "A strong Jedi is Obi-Wan, and full of Light. Good for you he will be." Qui-Gon knew he was meant to hear.

Obi-Wan felt his master's presence next to him as he awoke. He kept his eyes closed and reached out to sense his mood. Qui-Gon had left so abruptly before, with vague but determined words about looking to the future. Obi-Wan had been very curious, and had intended to stay awake until Qui-Gon returned, but the light healing trance he'd begun had quickly deepened into slumber.

Qui-Gon was back now, and his apprentice sensed... peace. Satisfaction. And a faint undercurrent of... anticipation?

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see his master in profile, gazing thoughtfully toward the open door. Sensing his regard, Qui-Gon turned to him, his expression warm and solemn. Obi-Wan smiled at him.

"Well, here you are," Qui-Gon greeted softly. "Padawan. I've spoken with the healers, and they're pleased with your progress. They are willing to release you tomorrow."

Obi-Wan was glad to hear it, but there was more to this story, he could tell. He waited, his eyes locked to his master's.

"You will need care as you recover, though. Mace Windu has appointed a guardian for you, Obi-Wan. Someone to tend to you as you heal, and to assist with your probation."

Obi-Wan held still. Please.... He swore he would gracefully accept whatever he was told, but... please....

Qui-Gon's eyes were calm, his voice was low and steady, and Obi-Wan listened carefully, waiting for the words.

"I am your guardian, Obi-Wan, and I intend to remain your master. Your home is with me now, if you so desire." He paused. "Is this what you wish?"

Obi-Wan released a breath and spoke with a formal composure that was beyond reproach. "Yes, my Master. It is what I wish." Suddenly, the loneliness and uncertainty of the past weeks seemed to drain away, and for all his lifetime of training, he couldn't suppress the joy that overwhelmed him. He laughed, elated. "I've never wished for anything more!"

Qui-Gon matched his apprentice's delighted expression with a smile of his own, his deep blue eyes alight. "Then tomorrow, Padawan, I'll take you home."

This is ridiculous, thought Obi-Wan as he was escorted through the Temple corridors. *Say something*, he hissed at himself. Force, he felt awkward.

"Feels good to be leaving the healers," he said, extremely cheerfully.

"I imagine it does," came Qui-Gon's genial voice from behind him.

The silence resumed, broken only by the soft, annoying hum of the repulsor chair that carried the young Jedi along. Obi-Wan surprised himself by sighing audibly. His eyes widened; he hoped fervently that his sigh sounded merely content, and not unhappy.

He had been in an agitated state of nervous excitement all morning, had barely touched his breakfast tray as he waited for Qui-Gon to come for him. He'd chided himself, reflecting that, from the creche through the academy, every student at the Temple dreamed of moving into the masters' wing to begin a new life as a padawan. And after several months of a tumultuous, uncertain apprenticeship, his day was finally here... so why did he feel so melancholy?

Qui-Gon guided him past a training hall, where a group of students stood chatting after class. Obi-Wan recognized several of the padawans who had stared at him two mornings ago in the dining hall. They seemed even more curious now, and Obi-Wan tossed them a pleasant smile as he passed.

He sincerely wished this ride was over.

"Would you like to stop?" Qui-Gon spoke for his ears only.

"No!" said Obi-Wan quickly. "No, I'm-- Let's keep going."

Qui-Gon steered him along for another five interminable minutes, then turned a corner into a hallway Obi-Wan had never been in before. To his alarm, his dismay increased, and he fought desperately to release it before Qui-Gon could sense his unease.

Ohhh... too late. Qui-Gon abruptly halted their progress in a small, garden-side alcove. He crouched down beside the boy, his expression grave.

Obi-Wan felt awful, and dropped his eyes to his tightly folded hands.

Qui-Gon looked expectantly at him for a moment; "Obi-Wan?" he softly prompted.

Obi-Wan knew he had just been asked a question, but he feigned ignorance in an effort to dispel Qui-Gon's concern. He brightly replied, "Yes, Master?" and was crushed to feel a quickly censored flash of disappointment from Qui-Gon.

The apprentice lifted repentant eyes. But his master's features were solemn, not stern. "Talk to me, please," Qui-Gon instructed gently.

"I am sorry, Master, I'm not...." Obi-Wan sighed, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. "Obi-Wan. If you've changed your mind--"

"No, Master!" Obi-Wan shook his head earnestly. "Of course not! I've wanted this forever, I always have, I--" He stopped, suddenly understanding. "Just not like this," he concluded quietly.

"Not... like this." Qui-Gon placed a hand on the hovering chair and raised his brows, inquiring.

Uncomfortable, Obi-Wan shrugged. "I always imagined moving into your quarters... *walking* into your quarters... as your padawan. Not... as a burden."

"Obi-Wan."

"I'm glad you're my guardian," Obi-Wan said hastily. "And I'm grateful you want to care for me, that's very kind, but...."

"Kind!" laughed Qui-Gon fondly. "I suppose it is. Well, Obi-Wan, masters and apprentices have to rely on one another for help from time to time. In the years to come, you will doubtless be called upon to care for your old master. Unfortunately, I can assure you of that." Qui-Gon tilted his head to meet the boy's lowered eyes. "And understand this, Obi-Wan: The Council may call me your 'guardian', for now. But you must know that I consider you my padawan. *Never* my burden."

Qui-Gon studied him for a moment longer. Then he held out his hand.

Obi-Wan glanced up curiously. He placed his hand in Qui-Gon's, and was astonished when the Jedi stood, cautiously helping him up, supporting him with a strong arm. Qui-Gon nodded at the door directly across from them. "We're home, Padawan. Walk with me."

Obi-Wan was happily insensible to any physical pain or weariness as he slowly crossed the hall at his master's side.

"You realize," murmured Qui-Gon as they walked, "that if the healers catch us, my tenure as your guardian will be very brief indeed."

Obi-Wan grinned and tried to limp faster, but Qui-Gon stayed him with a firm hand. "Carefully, Padawan. I'll risk the healers' wrath but not your health, if you please."

"Yes, my Master," said Obi-Wan, relishing the words as never before.

Two more steps, and they were there.

Qui-Gon palmed open the door and assisted his apprentice into his -- their -- quarters. He felt Obi-Wan hesitate in the doorway, felt the gentle shimmer of the Force as Obi-Wan subconsciously took measure of his new surroundings.

Obi-Wan's curious gaze wandered the room. He noted the simple but comfortable furniture, the abundance of green plants, and the intriguing collection of belongings: a multitude of real, bound books, the old-fashioned wooden clock on its shelf, the low meditation table in the corner with its single, large candle. Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan's surprise and pleasure as the boy noticed two meditation mats on the floor and recognized one as his own.

"I like this!" murmured Obi-Wan. "It... feels like you."

Qui-Gon smiled and felt himself relax. He was startled to realize he'd been anxious for his padawan's approval.

Obi-Wan swayed suddenly, and Qui-Gon tightened his arm around him. "The tour can wait, I think," he said lightly. "You are going straight to your room." He guided Obi-Wan across the floor, and pushed open the door to his former study.

Obi-Wan caught his breath. This *was* his room. He could feel it. Sunlight spilled through the window, shining on the neat study desk and the narrow sleep couch with its quilted blanket. His own lightsaber hung on the wall nearby. Near the ceiling, his model ships blinked and circled quietly. And his stone -- his birthday stone from Qui-Gon -- rested on the bedside table.

Obi-Wan looked up at his master, his eyes warm with emotion. Qui-Gon smiled at him and helped him to the bed, settling him in carefully. As Qui-Gon fussed with the blankets, Obi-Wan reached for his stone and slipped it into the pocket of his medical-issue robe. "I missed this," he said quietly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "I thought so. Be still, now." The master laid his hands lightly on Obi-Wan's chest and closed his eyes. He tested delicately for heart rate and pressure, then sent the boy a comforting wave of healing warmth. Obi-Wan sighed gratefully.

"Rest well, Padawan," said Qui-Gon. He straightened to his considerable height, then swiftly ducked as he was nearly struck in the head by one of Obi-Wan's toy fighters.

Obi-Wan did a terrible job of stifling his laughter, disguising it as a cough which quickly turned into the real thing.

"Very amusing," Qui-Gon dryly admitted, stooping again to pat the boy's back soothingly. "I suppose I'll have to get used to those."

"Sorry, Master," choked Obi-Wan.

The door chimed then, and Qui-Gon excused himself to answer it. He was delighted to find Tahl there -- holding another plate of muffins.

"I baked," she said with a grin. She handed him the tray, blew him a good-natured kiss, and started back down the hallway.

"Thank you, Tahl!" he said with a laugh, and she casually waved back at him.

"Oh, don't thank me 'til you've tried them."

Touched by her kind gesture, Qui-Gon looked after his friend for a long moment, then stepped back inside. That's when he noticed the note.

He unfolded the small piece of paper, and read:

Obi-Wan -- welcome home.
Qui-Gon -- welcome back.
Force be with you both,
Tahl
(Bant helped me bake these, so they might actually be good.)

Qui-Gon tucked the note into his robe with a smile, and called to his padawan. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, Master!"

The rest of the morning was spent in easy conversation in Obi-Wan's room, with Qui-Gon surprising both himself and his padawan by reminiscing about moving into Yoda's quarters as a young apprentice. The image of a very lanky, very awkward Qui-Gon settling in among Yoda's tiny furnishings was hilariously inconceivable to Obi-Wan, and he held a pillow to his ribs to ease the ache of his laughter. The time passed quickly, until Qui-Gon demanded that his padawan sleep for a while.

Dusk had fallen. Qui-Gon found himself squinting at his book in the half-light, when he sensed that Obi-Wan had awakened in the next room. He allowed the boy some time to himself, then tapped lightly on Obi-Wan's door.

He found his padawan gazing out the window at the colors of the sunset, clearly lost in thought. Obi-Wan turned to him, his expression solemn, his green eyes serious.

"Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Master...." He spoke unhurriedly, musingly. "Did this room belong to Xanatos?"

Qui-Gon paused, then pulled the desk chair to the bed and sat. "Yes, Obi-Wan. This was Xanatos' room. Does that trouble you?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, concentrating. "I... I can't *feel* him here," he said thoughtfully. "Can you?"

"No, Padawan." Qui-Gon shook his head slowly. "Not any more. But he was a presence in this room far longer than I should have allowed. I've realized--" he trailed off, then corrected himself with a smile, "That is, wiser friends have helped me to realize that he was not truly gone until I prepared this room for you."

His apprentice seemed unable to speak, so Qui-Gon softly continued. "This is your home, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your home, Force willing, until you are raised to Knighthood. Can you find peace here, my Padawan?"

Obi-Wan nodded, warmed by the feeling that he was exactly where he belonged. "Yes, my Master. I already have."

END