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He woke up, and wished he hadn't. His head was pounding, his body seemed largely numb, and he was soaking wet.

Wet..? he thought blearily, and tried to sit up. And screamed when searing pain lanced through him, centered on his back yet setting off every nerve in his body.

"Easy," someone said softly, and hands that were only a little warmer than he was were gently placed upon his forehead. "Lie still. Your back's been wrenched pretty good. You're lucky you're hard-headed, too. You've got a good knot on the back of your skull, but there's no real damage."

His brain was quickly waking up in the face of the pain-charged wave of adrenaline flooding his system now, and finally he managed to put a name to the voice. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Qui," Obi-Wan replied, and his hands brushed through Qui-Gon's hair, leaving the tingling feel of Force-healing in their wake. "Open your eyes."

Qui-Gon did, and it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The faint light filtering down through the clouds above stung, but not much. The shuttle's roof rested above them, keeping the rain out of his eyes. He swallowed and looked around, to find the rest of the shuttle some distance away. "That..." He rasped, coughed, and tried again. "That must have been one hell of a crash. I'm glad I slept through it."

Obi-Wan smiled tiredly. "You didn't miss much, you know. Fire, cursing, landing in a mud hole. The usual."

Qui-Gon reached up with one trembling hand, ignoring white-hot pain enough to wipe away the watery blood that ran down Obi-Wan's face. "You're hurt?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, taking hold of Qui-Gon's hand and lowering it gently. Again the tingle of Force-healing followed the touch, this one strong enough to flow through his arm to warm his back. "Just a cut on the top of my head from something. Nothing bad, and the bleeding's already stopped."

"Anakin?"

"Anakin's fine," Obi-Wan nodded, and the relief Qui-Gon felt was enough to make him almost forget the pain. "There's a cut just above his left eye, and his arms were scraped up, but I already took care of that. His lightsaber was the only one to survive the landing, so he volunteered to circle the crash site. He's already on his way back."

The warm feeling was growing, in spite of the puddle Qui-Gon knew he must be laying in, accompanied by a rising tide of drowsiness. "Are you...?"

Another nod. "Just relax and let me work. You need to be able to walk out of here, because I don't think help will be coming any time soon."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "What about you?" he asked sleepily, part of him still aware enough to worry about his partner.

"I'll be fine. Rest now."

When Qui-Gon opened his eyes some time later, the sky was noticeably darker. But the pain was all but gone. He sat up experimentally and realized he was much drier, probably due to the fire that Obi-Wan had managed to kindle under the slight shelter of the roof. He was sitting in front of it, feeding the blue-green flames with a motley collection of wood. Obi-Wan looked up as Qui-Gon rose. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." Qui-Gon managed to get himself to his knees and moved closer to the fire, never so happy to see an open blaze than he was at that moment. The warmth felt heavenly.

Obi-Wan smiled. "All part of the job description, Qui. But you're welcome."

Anakin appeared through the mist that was gathering around the wreck, bearing an armload of half-rotten wood. When he saw Qui-Gon sitting up, his grinned. "You're okay?"

"Thanks to your Master," Qui-Gon replied, watching with amusement as Anakin hurriedly dropped the wood next to the fire to dry before hopping over to give Qui-Gon a muddy hug. Qui-Gon returned the embrace tightly, glad that they were all still alive and unharmed enough to do so.

"Next time," Anakin said, sitting back with a grin, "buckle up."

"I'll try to remember that," Qui-Gon returned dryly. "Have I missed any new developments?"

"Well, Master Obi-Wan managed to crash us about five miles east of our original coordinates," Anakin said, plopping down in front of the fire cross-legged and holding out his hands to the blaze. "I went that far out in all directions, and there's nothing here but us, a lot of swamp, and those flying things. They look like they might be tasty, too."

"Most of the ration bars are gone," Obi-Wan said apologetically, when Qui-Gon raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "So we'll have to sample the local cuisine sooner or later."

Master of the Living Force or not, when given a choice between killing and eating a living creature or eating a ration bar, Qui-Gon usually chose the former. "I'm with Anakin on this one."

Anakin picked up a stick and poked the fire with it, his eyes rising to track the red-gold embers that rose into the air. "There's bound to be people somewhere on this planet. The missiles we were hit with didn't just pop outta nowhere."

Missiles. Qui-Gon rested his chin in his hands and accessed his short-term memory, mentally reviewing the moments right before the explosion that had rocked the shuttle. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen... There. He froze the image, a technique he had perfected out of long practice, and studied it curiously. "Considering Roinall V's economy, I don't know where they had the funds to get a pair of Barriak concussion missiles. Last I checked, they were illegal in the Republic," he said, opening his eyes.

"And the more expensive for it," Obi-Wan nodded, absently placing another mis-formed log onto the fire.

Anakin shook his head. "Oh, you can get them. I had Master Tet Wuq last cycle, when he offered the extra class on mechanics and weaponry. You know -- the one that's not required? Anyway, he offered it extra, because with all the time he spent out on the Outer Rim, it was becoming a specialty of his, and the regular classes didn't cover it. Master Wuq said the problem isn't in acquiring Barriak missiles. If you're desperate enough, the Barriak Corps accept land. Not whole planets, because the Republic would notice that kind of exchange. Just enough land to cover the cost... " he frowned and scratched in the dirt with his finger, running a calculation that many sentient beings couldn't comprehend without a computer to help them. "Thirty thousand acres per missile."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged a glance. "That's a lot," Obi-Wan said.

"And apparently a lot of people are willing to pull that sort of trade, because Barriak is doing very well for itself," Anakin added. He looked up at them, his small face earnest. "That's not the only thing, though, Master. Barriak missiles are meant to be used in space. For those things to have come off of Roinall, there has to be a launch tower around here somewhere."

"Did they come from the planet, though?" Qui-Gon wondered aloud.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I didn't have much time to look, and the shuttle's systems... well," he trailed off, smiling wryly as he glanced around at the wreckage. "You can see how well that went."

"Master, when it gets light, I want to see if I can get to the shuttle's memory banks. We might not be able to do anything with it here, but maybe once we're back home I can retrieve our last half-hour of flight." Anakin glanced up at the twisted ruin of shuttle roofing over their heads.

Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. "All right. We may need any data you can retrieve. But it's going to wait until we're ready to leave. That's the only roof we have--"

"And we're going to be very wet until we get off this planet," Qui-Gon finished, not looking forward to the prospect. The Healers would probably diagnose them with pneumonia again.

"And I want us all rested enough to catch you if that thing falls," Obi-Wan continued, his eyes studying the shuttle roof's supports -- several ancient-looking gnarled trees.

The rest of the mission was mostly a blur of rain, mud, and rough terrain, with a swift and unexpected rescue in the form of Padawan Garen Muln and his Master, who had been sent by the Council to search for them after the shuttle's Temple transponder had stopped transmitting. The only other thing he could clearly remember had been Obi-Wan's stamina... and Obi-Wan's story.

"Blast," Obi-Wan muttered, sitting down on the first available stump.

"Same or worse?" Qui-Gon asked, helping Obi-Wan remove his left boot and wincing when Obi-Wan hissed in a breath.

"Worse, considering the nature trek we're on," Obi-Wan smiled tightly, removing his wet sock. Jedi boots were as weather-proof as they could be made, but there were limits, especially considering their environment.

Qui-Gon nodded at Anakin, who smiled encouragingly at his Master before climbing a nearby tree. It was becoming common practice any time they stopped; Anakin's Force-healing abilities were still too unwieldy to be trusted, so he kept watch while Qui-Gon worked. Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the foot presented before them, not liking the angry red shade of Obi-Wan's ankle. He rested his hands on Obi-Wan's skin for only a moment before he jerked them away and glared up at Obi-Wan accusingly.

"It's broken, I know," Obi-Wan said in a low voice. "There was a hairline fracture from the crash. Nothing serious, nothing that would have been difficult to heal had we been given the chance." He smiled apologetically. "I was more worried about you at the time."

"I know, but you should have said something -- how did this happen?" he interrupted himself. "It wasn't this damaged the last time we stopped." He was careful to keep his voice soft, knowing that Obi-Wan did not want Anakin to worry.

"The hike through the marsh," Obi-Wan said, gritting his teeth as Qui-Gon quickly and expertly set the break. "When I fell."

"Damn." Qui-Gon sent healing energy into the wound, feeling Obi-Wan do the same. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Obi-Wan jerked a thumb back at Anakin, who was descending the tree rapidly enough to warn them that they had company. "That's why. I've been holding it together with the Force because we don't have a choice." He smiled, the expression somehow made more endearing by the splatters of black mud on Obi-Wan's pale face. "Don't worry, Qui. At most the Healers will just re-break it when we get home."

"Break what?" Anakin asked curiously, joining them.

"Your head, Padawan," Obi-Wan drawled. "Coming out of one of those trees like that."

"Not likely," Anakin replied. "But can we go, please? I wanna see my tenth birthday, and those guys aren't bringing me cake." He started forward, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were obliged to follow. Qui-Gon could only wonder about Anakin's largely cheerful attitude, especially as he was hard-pressed to hold onto his own.

He's seen worse, Obi-Wan answered him, following along carefully and not showing a hint of the pain that Qui-Gon now knew he was suffering from. No conscious memory of it, no, he replied to Qui-Gon's curious look. No real recollections in all these years, thank the Force. But subconsciously, it's all there.

He's light years ahead of other Padawans his age, Qui-Gon agreed. Mentally, emotionally, conversationally, he's already well-versed in the more mature concepts. But he's no diplomat.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. No, he isn't. Never will be, either. Not in his nature.

Conversation ceased for a while, all three of them moving silently as only Jedi could, the Force muffling any sounds they made. And they spent so much time traversing water that footprints didn't need to be considered. But the quiet left Qui-Gon with one nagging question.

How did you get the scars on your left foot? The ones that look like a spider web.

Obi-Wan grinned outright. My foot was crushed.

?! Qui-Gon didn't see how that could be funny.

A building fell on it, Obi-Wan continued, and now he was laughing silently.

What's so damn funny about a building crushing your foot?

Obi-Wan shrugged, letting Qui-Gon help him over a mess of fallen trees, all of them half-submerged in the murky water. I suppose you just had to be there. It was a very interesting mission.

Don't you dare get me all curious and then not tell me this story, Qui-Gon threatened, feeling a moment's frustration for how much of Obi-Wan's life was exactly that – an untold story.

Not this time. It's safe to tell you, especially considering we may be seeing him in the future. They were back on dry land again, though the ground was so mossy they left almost no discernable trace of their passing. It bothered Qui-Gon that their mysterious enemies were still continuing to track them accurately despite a lack of trail. Obi-Wan's story would be a welcome distraction from valid but currently pointless concerns.

Did you know that your last Padawan was a bed-hopper?

Qui-Gon raised one eyebrow in surprise. Not... consciously, no. But knowing my old Padawan, it wouldn't be very surprising. Especially considering that he was a vain, overgrown peacock, Qui-Gon added to himself. He expected a flash of hurt, an old friend of his whenever Xanatos was brought up, and felt only muted sadness.

I'm getting over your loss, Xan, he realized, and the thought was an unexpected comfort.

Obi-Wan's hand had found its way into his and squeezed comfortingly. A prolific bed-hopper, he was, Obi-Wan said. Xanatos had three children resulting from his various unions. One of them is Force-sensitive, and her mother brought her to the Jedi after Xanatos died. Her name is Saini.

Saini? Anakin's friend Saini?! He thought of the dark-headed child with laughing brown eyes and perfectly pale skin. And now the resemblance was acute. How in the hell had he not noticed?

Maybe because she's just like her mother. Except for that pristine skin, there's really nothing of her father in her. Obi-Wan smiled. Don't worry about it – very few people know that she's of Xanatos' line. Mace was afraid that her father's reputation would taint her among the Initiates.

Qui-Gon could only fervently thank the gods that Mace had been in a sensible mood on that day. And the others?

Another girl, adopted out by Xanatos himself. I don't know if he was having a moment of altruism, or if he was just miffed that she wasn't sensitive. She's the eldest. Xenia du Kithrin. She's a political leader on Telos now, behind the Reform party. One of their younger supporters, but by far the most popular.

And wouldn't that irritate Xanatos if he could see her? Qui-Gon grinned at the thought.

Xanatos' second eldest child was the only boy. His name, at least as far as we ever discovered, was Granta Omega. It sounds self-assumed, but knowing the father, possibly not. He looks nothing like Xanatos, but takes after him in every other way.

Dear gods, Qui-Gon shuddered. Another rogue Force-user.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Worse. He's completely Force-blind, and his father left him with the parting notion that it was a failing on Granta's part to have no Force ability.

Qui-Gon could have cheerfully strangled his ex-Padawan at that moment, if he wasn't already dead. "But that was part of your vision," he said aloud, forgetting mindspeech as he considered Xanatos' children. "Wasn't it?"

"Originally," Obi-Wan said, watching as Anakin put his hands on a tangle of vines, the Force swirling about the boy playfully as he politely asked the greenery to part just enough to let the group pass. (Qui-Gon had taught him the trick only yesterday, and Anakin delighted in it, saying the plants thought he was funny.) We encountered him that way, anyway. He'd decided to make up his 'failing' to his father by becoming more of a thorn in the Order's side than Xanatos had ever been. He's the one that caused the building to fall on my foot.

You still haven't told me why this is funny.

Obi-Wan grinned again. Xanatos was very good at taunts, at verbal sparring. Very good at manipulation. Granta did... not have that ability. It was the nature of his taunt when he confronted us that made it funny.

Oh?

He was trying to sound tough. He said: v'neth shakah ru mish Sa'ta pae.

Qui-Gon couldn't help it; he burst out laughing, startling Anakin and the birds that had been nesting in trees above.

Anakin put his hands on his hips, glaring at him. "What's so funny?"

Obi-Wan, his face perfectly serene, repeated the phrase out loud.

Anakin snorted laughter and clamped both hands over his mouth, very quickly turning a bright shade of red.

Obi-Wan smiled mischievously. "I'm so glad I have a Padawan raised on the coarser languages the galaxy has to offer."

"Force gods," Qui-Gon said, still sputtering with laughter. "Did he realize he'd just announced his attention to defecate on himself while singing a Corellian drinking ballad?"

"Not until we fell over each other laughing, he didn't."

They never did manage to find out why they were shot down in the first place, nor why they were tracked through the swamps with such malicious intent. It might have been frustrating, but for the fact that Qui-Gon had more than one mission since his Knighting that had gone exactly that way.

He chose not to worry about it.

Mace sat in a chair in Micah and Tahl's quarters, holding a mug of steaming caff in his hands. Qui-Gon was sitting on the couch, with Obi-Wan perched above him and earning a glare from Micah for his ill-treatment of the furniture. "All but ten of them were Chosen," Mace said, taking a quick sip of the dark liquid. He looked up, his eyes troubled. "All but ten."

"It's surprising, yes, but it happens sometimes," Micah said. "And this bunch probably had the sympathy vote—"

Mace cut him off. "Mic, I've seen the files of the children we brought back to the Temple. According to their Clan Masters, less than half of those children ever indicated the potential to be Knights!"

"At least, not according to the standards we usually hold them to," Obi-Wan said quietly. "The best of the best, remember?"

Mace shook his head. "Obi-Wan, I remember when the Creche Master at the time was positive you would never be a Padawan. Things change, I know that. But this is unprecedented!"

"Do the ones Chosen have the Knight-potential now?" Tahl asked, tilting her head curiously.

"Yes, some more than others. And because of where their focus lay before they were sent away from the Temple, some of the children have quite a bit of coursework to catch up on." He set his barely-touched mug on the table. "Force! Master Tratacek wants to take both of the Sandrunner twins on as Padawans, and is throwing a fit because we won't let him!"

"Why not?"

Mace sighed and glanced up at Obi-Wan. "Because it's not done, of course. You know the rules as well as anyone, Kenobi. One Master, One Padawan."

"Forgive me for sounding like my old Master," Obi-Wan drawled, "but most rules were meant to be broken."

"Sounds good to me," Micah chimed in. "Tratecek isn't likely to find favor with one Padawan over the other, not being a clan-critter like he is."

"What does Yoda say?" Qui-Gon asked, even as Mace opened his mouth, probably to explain why all of that didn't matter.

"Yoda's worried, and that's got me worried. He says that the Force knows what's needed. We may run our teams ragged occasionally, but no one's died from exhaustion as far back as the records go."

Micah snorted his amusement at that. Mace simply looked aggrieved. "What in the hell could happen that we'd suddenly need so many potential Knights?" He glanced at Obi-Wan as he spoke, but if Obi-Wan knew the answer, he was keeping it to himself.

Republic Standard Date 5199, Eighth Month, 14th Day, Coruscant – Audio & Digital Recording –

Time-stamp -- 05:25

I'd better start at the beginning. Just scrolling back through the transcript of this journal tonight looks a bit like the ravings of a madman. Or at least the ramblings of the sleep-deprived.

We did get lucky, though. Our second mission was on-planet -- Chancellor Vallorum requested mine and Qui-Gon's presence at a formal affair of the Senate. Guests of honor, or some such nonsense, for the work we've been doing for him for the past few years. Of course, the only reason we were on-planet and available was from being shot down during our last mission, but that's a pointless avenue at the moment.

Vallorum really need not have bothered. A gift certificate for Dex's would have been more enjoyable. Qui-Gon liked the thought, but we both feel that Vallorum just didn't want to suffer through the affair alone. (I still say he need not have bothered.)

So, we went through with it -- Qui-Gon, Anakin, and I all in our finest. Finest for Jedi, at any rate. We do tend to stick out like sore thumbs, with the mode of dress the three of us have chosen. Luminara does a much better job at blending in during these sort of things.

Poor Anakin. He had the Temple upbringing to balance him, but being in the same ballroom with the people who run the galaxy nearly blew all of his fuses.

Amusing thoughts. I guess I'd rather focus on them, but unfortunately that's not the point of tonight's entry.

Last night we were formally introduced to Senator Palpatine of Naboo.

-Time-stamp: 06:30- Needed tea. Needed to gather my thoughts. Need to get this finished -- Anakin will be up soon.

On Senator Palpatine:

There are so many questions about the things Anakin and I experienced -- about the vision, as we've been calling it, for lack of a better term. Too many questions, and no answers.

But curiosities of the Force aside, I did develop a tendency to be cautious.

So, as soon as we got home last night, and Qui-Gon and Anakin and I parted ways for the evening, I practically threw Anakin at his bed – not that he protested – and began my investigation into one Palpatine of Naboo. Force gods, I'm such a damned fool. I should have done this years ago. Why didn't I?

Palpatine is his political name, just like Amidala will one day be the political name for another Senator from Naboo. That was easy enough to find. But the first stumbling block of my investigation was this -- he doesn't seem to have any other name.

Here is what I do know.

He was elected Senator by the last ruler of Naboo, King Veruna. That led to another side investigation -- rumors of corruption on his part. If it weren't for the peace Naboo has enjoyed for generations, that planet would be in real trouble. Veruna accused of being inefficient would almost be a complement, considering his track record of office.

Palpatine has enjoyed popularity both among the people of Naboo and among his contemporaries in the Senate. The Naboo look upon Palpatine as the only thing their elected King did right in his last term. It was Palpatine who arranged for Naboo's interstellar trade economy to be boosted by an alliance with the Trade Federation. The planet's finances are doing very well, of late. Palpatine's fellow Senators, however... this is the one that frightens me. Palpatine is swiftly becoming the most vocal in opposition to Vallorum's practices. Vallorum is a good man, and a damn fine Chancellor, but even he was unprepared for the problems that were waiting for him when he was elected six years ago. He has done his best, but more and more it looks to the public eye as if he is a failure.

It's interesting to note, if I wanted more proof that I had a very vivid experience four years ago, that Padmι Amidala just finished a two year term as governor of Theed, and after a landslide election, became Queen Amidala several months ago.

Why didn't I look into this before? Any of it? It never even occurred to me to look. It doesn't feel right. In fact, it feels downright terrifying that until I met Palpatine face to face, I never even seemed to remember that he existed. I mean, I remembered who he became, but not who he was before things went to hell.

What's even more frustrating is that I don't even have time to put more thought or research into the matter. We're heading back out again in a few hours.

Damn it all.

Qui-Gon Jinn stared at the sand-roughened features of the man that sat cross-legged in front of him, watching – something he found himself doing a lot lately. He didn't mind the watching, however; Obi-Wan Kenobi, known as Ben Kenobi to the local desert settlers, would always be worth watching. Despite the white that was creeping speedily into his ginger-colored hair, a beard that looked a bit unkempt, and the lines that showed on his face more and more with each passing month... to Qui-Gon, he was still beautiful.

"Stop staring at me, dammit," Obi-Wan said, opening his eyes as he emerged from his meditations. "It's creepy."

"I am not creepy."

"You're blue and you glow in the dark. From my perspective, you're quite creepy." The words were delivered in a rather annoyed tone, but Obi-Wan was smiling, and that teasing spark was shining in his eyes.

"I shall strive not to glow so much," Qui-Gon returned dryly, surprising a laugh out of Obi-Wan, as had been his intent. "Just remember: one day you will be just as blue, and just as luminescent."

"That's a rather morbid thought," Obi-Wan replied, though he looked merely contemplative instead of out-right horrified.

"It's not so bad," Qui-Gon said, mentally amending 'At least, not now.' "You will have the benefit of not having to learn how to do so after you have already died. Learning it post-mortem is... hmm. Frustrating."

"I wish that I had been able to undertake this set of lessons under normal circumstances. Frustrating was learning that this methodology would have been part of the lesson set for Mastery. Instead, I had to be gallivanting about the galaxy in the middle of a war, being shot at on a daily basis, and...flying." He shuddered dramatically.

Qui-Gon raised one eyebrow. "The methodology has a lot to be desired when it comes to the actual circumstances. I did have to learn it to become a Jedi Master, you know."

"Yes, but you were always terrible at interpreting the Code," Obi-Wan immediately pointed out.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to argue – something they seemed to do quite often, though not as vehemently as they once did, and realized all at once that

He was awake, and staring up into the darkness of the transport. Beside him on the narrow bed, Obi-Wan lay heavily against him, breathing quietly. Anakin's much lighter form seemed to be trying to burrow under Qui-Gon's legs.

Qui-Gon managed to shift without disturbing either sleeper, pillowing his head with one arm. It was amazing how quickly he had adjusted to sleeping on any ship's berth with two bedmates instead of one, especially on Republic Cruisers like the Radiant VII, when space was at a minimum. Despite the ship's massive size, creature comforts had somehow not found their way into the design.

Suddenly Obi-Wan's eyes were looking at him in the dark. "Why are you awake?"

"Sorry," Qui-Gon said, his voice pitched low so as to not disturb Anakin. Not that there was much chance of that – Anakin slept like something dead. It could be a bad trait for a Jedi, except that when there was the faintest hint of trouble, Anakin was usually awake first.

"Being apologetic is not a reason for being awake," Obi-Wan muttered, his weight shifting so that he wasn't lying so heavily against Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon kept his dismay mute, because he wasn't sorry for disturbing Obi-Wan so much as he was sorry that Obi-Wan, now that he was awake, was moving a polite distance away.

Well. Polite considering the circumstances.

"I know. I was dreaming, and I awoke before we could begin to argue."

Obi-Wan sat up even more. "You argue with me in your sleep?"

"Apparently."

"Glutton for punishment."

Qui-Gon smiled in the dark. "It's not punishment if I always win."

"You're a true Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan said, yawning. "Big liar."

"Little tales tend to be destructive. Big tales mean songs get written about you," Qui-Gon replied, their banter much more interesting than staring at a dark ceiling.

"So you say. I'll sing the song written about you and Mace during the Stark Hyperspace War. Then we'll see if you change your tune."

Qui-Gon groaned softly at the subtle pun. "You're an ornery bastard in the middle of the night."

"Yes. And this grumpy bastard is going back to sleep, and suggests you do the same. I really doubt we'll be in the Temple long enough to sleep before we go out again."

"Yes, Knight Kenobi," Qui-Gon said, grinning as Obi-Wan only snorted in response. A moment later, a quick nudge with the Force confirmed that Obi-Wan had already put himself completely under again.

Qui-Gon, meanwhile, was still wide awake, and was thinking of the dream again. Since Obi-Wan had collapsed four years ago, he had had many dreams like it, the first one occurring while Obi-Wan was still comatose in the Ward. It had taken him almost a year to realize that the old man in his dream had been Obi-Wan, and it had taken him months to reconcile the horror that seeing Obi-Wan that spiritually battered evoked in him.

The dreams occurred in no particular way, in no particular order, with no particular passage of time between them. He would fall asleep, and suddenly be in the midst of a dream, and just as quickly wake up again, usually in the middle of whatever was occurring. Most of the dreams were lucid, but none of them were under his control. His script was predetermined, as were his feelings while in the dream, and more often than not Qui-Gon woke up bewildered about something Obi-Wan had said or done.

He had no idea why he seemed to keep dreaming about Obi-Wan's life on Tatooine, though it had given him a better glimpse of the training Obi-Wan had put himself through on the desert planet. But it still felt like the Force was trying to give him credit for something Qui-Gon had nothing to do with.

Who's supposed to be comforted by these dreams, anyway? Me, or him?

Their last mission -- the mission before Naboo -- was by far the most peaceful, Qui-Gon might have said, had it not been for Obi-Wan.

Valan'halar was once a beautiful world, mostly agrarian. It would be beautiful again, Qui-Gon thought to himself as they walked down the ramp of their transport. The air was heavy with the scent of burning and ozone from the blasterfire that had nearly torn the thriving civilization apart. But the civil war of Valan'halar had been over by the time they arrived, ended by a Master and Padawan team the week before. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin would never have set foot on Valan'halar if Master Drace Vol had not been gravely injured during the last battle. His Padawan, Galla Brak, had sent in a call for a new team to take over the diplomatic proceedings involved in putting Valan'halar's government back together. The three of them had been available, and after the muddy horror of Roinall VI, it seemed a wonderful change of pace.

Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, ready to make a remark to highlight this, and didn't bother to open his mouth.

Obi-Wan's expression was pleasant enough, and he spoke kindly to the women who had come to escort them, saying he didn't mind their weapons, and after what Valan'halar had just been through, he understood their caution. He was the perfect image of reassurance.

It was Anakin who glanced up at Qui-Gon, slipping his small hand into Qui-Gon's much larger one. He's worried about something. Danger, or some thing or another.

Qui-Gon was once again surprised at Anakin's ease in using the newly established training bond between them, and then gave it over to the Force. (He thought later that Anakin would probably never cease surprising him; it was part of the boy's nature.) Anakin was right, of course; Qui-Gon had learned to recognize Obi-Wan's expressions first as a boy, and then learned an entire set of new ones after Obi-Wan awoke with the knowledge of a lifetime hiding behind his green-gray eyes. This was one of the latter ones -- it was in his eyes, in the tense set of his shoulders, and in the way he worked hard not to alarm anyone. Obi-Wan on high alert.

What's wrong? Qui-Gon asked, sending the query along the much older pair-bond. They were following their guides now, walking through grass that sported the occasional char to show that fighting had taken place here.

Obi-Wan shrugged, a movement that was barely discernable. Just a bad feeling. Valan'halar just ended a massive planetary conflict. It never hurts to be cautious.

Anakin looked about them, taking in the relaxed postures of the women leading them and the sounds of nature rising from the sparse woods to the east. I don't feel anything, he said, faintly petulant.

Obi-Wan smiled and draped his arm across Anakin's shoulders. Then I shall take that as a good sign.

Except he didn't. Every day was the same as they sat down with the Valan'halar to work out the logistics of their rearranged government. The war had come about as a rebellion on the part of the women. For centuries the men had been in total control, running politics, religion, and the comings and goings of their own families with absolute impunity, and some had taken their power too far. The women had decided that enough was enough, and said that they wanted their share of the responsibility. The males in power had rather foolishly declined, alienating most of the females with the decision. The war had not produced a very high body count, but the collateral damage was rather extensive. In the end, the Master-Padawan team Qui-Gon's team was replacing had helped the rebellion -- not because the women wanted to take over, but simply wanted their rights back. They had reached a strange agreement -- the rebellion had issued the edict that men could do whatever they pleased, even if it meant going out and brawling with each other, as long as they helped continue the family bloodlines, and the women would take care of the mundane matters that the men had been in total control of for so long. The strange part was that this was agreed to rather enthusiastically, and had made Master Vol consider that this had been the hope of the men all along. The entire thing amused Qui-Gon immensely, especially since most of the men who were against the change in the first place seemed quite happy with things now.

What didn't amuse him was the fact that Obi-Wan's guard stayed up, incomprehensibly, the entire time, and he would never explain why. The man Qui-Gon had been ten years ago would have found this intolerable. But now he merely held his tongue. He had a partnership to maintain, and Obi-Wan's temper, when roused, had roasted better psyches than his own. And if he had any hopes of entering into a real relationship with the man, picking a fight was not the way to get laid any time this century.

So on the third night of this, Qui-Gon knocked on Obi-Wan's door -- difficult, considering it was a flap of hide, but not impossible -- and pushed it aside.

Obi-Wan, seated cross-legged in the center of the domed tent, opened his eyes. "Most people wait for permission to enter before barging into someone else's tent."

Temperamental. Off to a good start, then. Qui-Gon mentally noted that he was still technically outside the tent, but sensibly said nothing about that. "I know, but it seemed to me that you could use some company."

Obi-Wan raised a copper eyebrow, and Qui-Gon noted that it was highlighted by the light of the brazier hanging from the poles that crossed the ceiling. Living fire. That was what Obi-Wan was. The luminescence of his universe clothed in the body of a man. Qui-Gon almost smiled at himself, wondering what Tahl would say if she knew his old Padawan had turned him into a bloody poet. A bloody awful one, at that. "I just happened to notice that you seem rather tense."

This time the second eyebrow joined the first. "Just happened to notice, did you?"

"Yes. So I decided that something had to be done about it. May I come in?"

"So now you're asking properly?" Obi-Wan smiled mischievously. "I don't suppose I could say no."

Qui-Gon crawled as gracefully as he could into the confines of the tent, made for the use of a people literally half his size. "No. Lie down and take your shirt off."

"So we're going to play doctor?" The smile had broadened into a grin.

Qui-Gon considered it, very seriously, but forced himself to shake his head. "There will be no playing here, I'm afraid. And you have yet to obey me."

Obi-Wan snorted out a laugh and did so, rolling up his tunic as a pillow for his head. "Yes, Master. Will there be anything else, Maste-- ow!" he yelped, when Qui-Gon delivered a slap to his rear. "What was that for?"

"Cheeky impertinence," Qui-Gon said, pulling his pack off his back. In it was an oil that went literally everywhere with him, a habit begun in his Padawanship. After visiting a dry world that had turned his skin to cracked parchment and no relief safe for a human to use in sight, he had practically marinated in the oil upon return to the Temple. Afterward, he found that he liked it still, and kept a supply of it ever since. "Will nothing ever cure you of your impertinence?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied immediately. He was still smiling, and Qui-Gon was glad to see it; he was even more self-satisfied with the fact that he had been the one to create it.

"Good," Qui-Gon replied, and drizzled cold oil on Obi-Wan's back. That earned him a string of curses, and he grinned, capping the bottle before working the oil into Obi-Wan's skin.

"Guhh," was Obi-Wan's vaguely coherent response, as Qui-Gon's fingers sought out knots in his shoulders and sent them warmth, encouraging them to fade.

"This is all your own fault, you know," Qui-Gon said conversationally, working his way down Obi-Wan's spine, satisfied when several loud cracks announced that tension was being released. Obi-Wan muttered something into his tunic-pillow as Qui-Gon continued to unknot overstressed muscles. He worked through everything that could be dissuaded with pressure, and then slowed his hands. Technically, the second part of this massage was also a professional at work, but Qui-Gon was still going to shamelessly use it as an opportunity to explore. Soothing passes of the hands now, fingertips brushing the skin to stimulate nerve endings and increase blood flow. Obi-Wan's skin was pale gold under the brazier's light, highlighting the freckles that had refused to fade with childhood. There were scars here, and Qui-Gon touched them all. Some he knew, because he had witnessed them. Some he did not, because they had happened in Obi-Wan's memories and he was not yet willing to share their causes.

But the most important one his fingers brushed now, touching the circular area in the small of his back, dangerously close to the spinal column. It was from a blaster rifle, and Obi-Wan had lived and healed because that shot had been meant for another. He worked on the muscles in the area, still staring at the faint scar tissue. The image of Obi-Wan's still form draped over Micah's bloody one had haunted his dreams for months. Micah had been hit once with a slug thrower, bleeding badly. The second shot had been meant to execute. They hadn't found the pirate in time to stop him, but Obi-Wan had found Micah in time to save him. The fear that he had almost lost his partner and one of his eldest friends at one time frightened him in a way that Qui-Gon hadn't known he could still be frightened.

"It didn't happen," Obi-Wan's quiet voice broke into his thoughts. "He's still here, Qui."

"I know," Qui-Gon said, stroking Obi-Wan's back gently. "And so are you." Obeying an impulse that he couldn't quash, he bent down and planted a soft kiss between Obi-Wan's shoulder blades.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked curiously.

Qui-Gon smiled, and could answer honestly. "Taking care of you."

Obi-Wan was better after that, though he was still on-guard. The only purpose it seemed to serve, however, was to drive Anakin to distraction. The boy was still trying to discover what it was Obi-Wan claimed to sense, eventually came up short, and grumbled under his breath about intentional vagueness. When Qui-Gon asked him what that meant, Anakin sighed and said that was what he wanted to know.

They completed their work two days before their transport was scheduled to return, and the Valan'halar insisted they stay for a celebration. The celebration turned out to be a drinking contest cleverly disguised as a public holiday, and Qui-Gon was hard-pressed to use the Force enough to stay sober. It was the only day that Obi-Wan seemed to fully relax. It might, Qui-Gon admitted privately, have to do something with the massive amount of Valans Ale Obi-Wan drank, but since he always seemed perfectly sober, the theory was never proven.

The final day was the worst. Obi-Wan's eyes never seemed to settle, always checking their surroundings for the slightest change. It was bordering on paranoia, but since Obi-Wan had never done anything without reason behind it, Qui-Gon was willing to wait and see.

During the hike back to the landing field, Obi-Wan was radiating so much tension through the bond that Qui-Gon found himself on edge for no real reason. Anakin, his teeth clenched firmly together, took hold of Qui-Gon's hand as they walked. Qui-Gon didn't mention Anakin holding his unlit lightsaber in his hand, because he was doing the same.

When they were airborne, with the planet falling away behind them, the tension melted away. Obi-Wan sat down in a chair in the lounge, massaging his temples with his fingertips. Anakin walked up, planted himself firmly in front of Obi-Wan, and crossed his arms. "Now can we ask what that was?"

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression baffled. "I guess it couldn't hurt at this point, could it?"

"It might help," Qui-Gon said, his own tension gone now that the bond was no longer thrumming with it. "I know I'm not the only curious party."

Obi-Wan groaned and leaned back. "I'm rather curious myself. It's only that a certain element I expected to come into play... it... it never occurred."

Qui-Gon knelt down on the floor next to Anakin, who had lost his firm stance and now just looked confused. "You've been to Valan'halar before."

"Yes. Before," Obi-Wan repeated the word that now had a double-meaning for them. "Same time, same mission, same circumstances behind it. Before, however, we were attacked as we were leaving. I don't even remember why it happened. I guess now," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes, "it doesn't make a difference. It didn't happen."

"Is this the first time that something we've done has matched your... previous experiences?" Qui-Gon asked, curiosity roused and ire forgotten.

Obi-Wan immediately shook his head. "It's the first time it's happened in three years. I was starting to think that it would be okay -- that just having the knowledge I do would change the course of things. But that line of thought seems to be incorrect." He suddenly looked tired, more tired and worn than any man of twenty should ever have to be.

"Well, there were changes, since that attack didn't happen," Anakin pointed out logically. "Right?"

"Perhaps." Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Though..." he looked at Anakin. "I think you're the reason the attack didn't take place." "Why would I have anything to do with it? You and Qui-Gon make more logical targets," Anakin pointed out. "Most of them didn't even realize I was a working Jedi."

"Because the Valan'halar of both sexes look upon children under the age of twelve as sacred. No matter who would have attacked originally, no group would willingly endanger a child. They believe the cost to their souls in the afterlife is damning," Qui-Gon said, remembering from their mission summary that Master Vol had been surprised and then delighted by such a thing, and believed it part of the reason for the low casualty rate.

Obi-Wan actually slapped himself on the head. "I'm a bloody idiot. The missions..."

"What about the missions?" Qui-Gon asked, though suddenly he had a very good idea.

Obi-Wan got up and began to pace. "When we first began working together as a team, the missions we were given didn't match any of my previous experiences. At first it was a relief, because it meant things were different." Obi-Wan looked hopefully at Qui-Gon, as if asking if Qui-Gon understood how important this had been to Obi-Wan at the time. Qui-Gon nodded, and Obi-Wan looked relieved. "It was because of our much different status, and in retrospect I should have realized it immediately. But now that we're a Master-Padawan pairing again..."

"Missions more suited to Anakin's training mean that you're more likely to once again see things you had before," Qui-Gon finished. "That, and according to your vision, we're closer to the moment when missions would have been given to a Master with a Padawan nearing his Trials."

"If the Council really did once base our mission assignments for a Master and near-Knight, this is going to happen more frequently. I'm catching up to my own supposed experience level."

"Anakin is still a variable," Qui-Gon pointed out. "It won't all be the same."

Obi-Wan shook his head, ruffling Anakin's spiked hair. "I don't think that will matter much to the Council. There's two of us to look after him, and he's powerful enough – and intelligent enough – in his own right."

That night Qui-Gon stopped by Obi-Wan's cabin with a fresh bottle of oil and a towel, heating both to help work out the tension in his partner's compact frame. If Qui-Gon's hands lingered a little too long sometimes, or if the invigorating strokes of the massage sometimes faltered into caresses, neither of them made mention of it.

"Building a new lightsaber?"

Mace would have startled Qui-Gon, intent as he was on what he was doing, if it hadn't involved such close touch with the Force as well. "Yes. The crystals in the old one were suffering from exhaustion. That's the last time I let Callero talk me into artificial crystals."

"Most of us don't put as much time in the field as you and Obi-Wan do," Mace said. "The artificial crystals just aren't up for heavy use, though some research is going in to figuring out how to extend their life cycles. Mind if I join you?"

"You must be really bored," Qui-Gon said, carefully welding a new bracket into place, "if you're willing to watch me build a lightsaber."

"I'm not bored. I'm hiding," Mace retorted. "The troll wants me to teach the sexuality class to the junior Padawans."

Qui-Gon paused in what he was doing. "Well, he does have a point. You'd have the entire group chaste just from fear of how Councilor Windu would punish them if they messed up and got some Senator's daughter pregnant."

"Your sympathy knows no bounds," Mace sighed. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to teach it for me."

"Masters currently training Padawans are excused from teaching classes, as they must devote all of their time to said Padawan," Qui-Gon quoted primly, removing his chosen Adegan crystal from the box that Callero had supplied. It would create a true emerald blade, as long as he didn't screw up the calibration of the power supply.

"But we always take volunteers."

"You either get me as a teacher, or you send me out into the field," Qui-Gon replied, setting the crystal in the bracket and adjusting the clamps. "And we both know I'm needed more in the field than I am at the Temple."

"So you're saying I'm doomed," Mace said, resting his chin on his hands.

"Actually, I'm saying that if you want to escape teaching, take a Padawan."

Mace jerked himself upright. "Me?"

"Why not you?" Qui-Gon said, enjoying himself immensely. It wasn't often that Mace overlooked the obvious. "It's been over ten years since you trained Depa, and it's not like we have a lack of Initiates to choose from. That little Zabrak boy in the A.L.T. class worships the ground you walk on."

"Adoration or not, I'm too old to take a new Padawan."

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Too old, he says. That didn't stop you from riding my ass about taking Obi-Wan as a Padawan seven years ago, and I'm fifteen years older than you are. Here, watch this." He stroked one finger along the edge of his second crystal and watched as it cracked in half without so much as a protest.

Mace actually jumped. "How in the hell did you do that?"

Qui-Gon grinned mercilessly at Mace. "Magic."

Mace glared at him. "Qui-Gon..."

"Take a Padawan and I'll tell you."

"Fine, Yoda."

Mace stalked off, and Qui-Gon bent back to his work in a much more cheerful frame of mind than he'd started with.

Qui-Gon winced when Obi-Wan's lightsaber slammed down on his own. Gritting his teeth against vibrations his lightsaber created in response to the brutal hit, he lashed out with the Force and pushed.

Obi-Wan leapt back and crouched back down into a battle stance on the middle of the mat. Sweat was running freely down his face, but he didn't look tired. Qui-Gon took a short moment to be jealous before launching a variant of the Eleventh form, an attack pattern they had both been working on for weeks now. "You know, it's not really fair," he managed to say, even as they engaged in the fierce strikes and parries that compromised the maneuver. "What's not fair?" Obi-Wan asked, throwing himself backward to avoid a hit that would have beheaded him, if not for the training sabers they used.

"Well," Qui-Gon gasped out, not in the least bit shamed to admit that he was out of breath. Dueling with Obi-Wan was like dueling with a hurricane. "You're practically half my size, and your strikes make my teeth rattle!"

Their blades crossed as they entered the final steps of the Eleventh. Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me short?"

"Possibly." Their blades parted, and Qui-Gon flipped backwards to avoid Obi-Wan's lightning-fast response. Training blades or not, he wasn't fancying a burn to his throat.

A blur of motion told him that Obi-Wan had anticipated the move. Succumbing to the inevitable, Qui-Gon landed, not surprised to find Obi-Wan's lightsaber at his throat. "Should I be insulted?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon grinned. "Of course not. Your height is an advantage. You can enter most doors without ducking, for example."

Obi-Wan laughed and powered down his lightsaber. "You shouldn't have given up at the end."

"I didn't give up. I wisely yielded to a better opponent."

"Is it just me, or do you become more full of shit with age, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon half-turned to regard Micah Giett. "You think you can do better, then?"

Micah smirked. "Facing off against you in a contest of words? Most certainly. But Obi-Wan? No way in all Hells, my friend. The only people in the Temple who even come close to that level are you and Mace."

Obi-Wan looked amused. "And Mace quit sparring with me when I palmed his credit pouch during an aerial. How'd we do this time, Micah?"

Micah frowned, his teasing attitude replaced with the air of a Combat Master. "Not too badly. Better than last week, to be certain. Qui-Gon, your footwork still needs some work during the second and fifth movements. In fact, I would practice those parts of the Eleventh without a lightsaber for a bit just to concentrate on your movements. You came close to tripping yourself several times."

Qui-Gon grimaced. "I know. I think the only thing that stopped me is the fear of dying of embarrassment."

Micah nodded, trying to remain serious even though the idea obviously appealed to him. "Obi-Wan, on the eighth movement, watch your hands. You nearly lost your lightsaber."

"I did lose my lightsaber," Obi-Wan admitted. "I called it back without even thinking about it."

"Smart man. Dooku can bitch all he wants about that being cheating, but Dooku is teaching classical form. He's not out in the field with his ass on the line."

"That's not fair, Mic," Qui-Gon protested. "Learning the classical forms does have some benefit."

"Yeah. Against another Jedi. Knowing the classical forms didn't do you much good the first time Xanatos raised a lightsaber against you."

Qui-Gon sighed and turned to Obi-Wan. "My former Padawan, will you please tell Micah that it was delightful of him to remind me of that, and for him to kiss my ass?"

"Promises, promises. Better not spout that in front of my wife, Qui-Gon, or Tahl might want to watch," Micah replied, grinning a positively evil grin for a Jedi Master.

"Tell him yourself, Qui," Obi-Wan smiled faintly, catching the towel Micah threw in his direction. "I've got an appointment."

Qui-Gon winced. "The twins and today's experiment. I'd forgotten. Would you like me to come get you when it's over?"

Obi-Wan's smile brightened. "That would be nice."

Obi-Wan was rubbing the back of his head when Qui-Gon arrived in the Healer's Ward. "You look like you got hit by a transport," he said, taking in the dark circles under Obi-Wan's eyes and the messy look to his clothes and hair.

"I feel like it," Obi-Wan croaked out, his voice uneven and hoarse. "You know, I always thought Healers were supposed to be nice. But they just root around in my head with lightsabers and mining drills."

The Healers that Terza had appointed to Obi-Wan's case looked more amused than insulted. Fraternal twins, Su'um-Va and Ra'um-Ve, they were well-known for taking on difficult cases of healing, both of the mind and body. They also had a very high success rate, credited to their close bond. Both were humanoids that could almost pass for full human -- if you ignored the indigo cast to their skin. "If you're making jokes, then you're fine," Ra'um-Ve said, then disappeared as she dunked her head under the flow of water from the sink tap.

Obi-Wan glared at her anyway as the Healer ran water over her face and through her close-cropped black hair. "I'd tell you what you could blow, but I don't like women."

"And I'd have to get jealous, and that's unbecoming of a Jedi Master," Qui-Gon pointed out, smiling enigmatically when Obi-Wan turned his glare upon him. "Do you know that you get downright vulgar when you visit the Healers of late?"

Su'um-Va waved his hand in the air, probably trying to deflect whatever horrendous thoughts Obi-Wan might decide to subject his partner to. "I don't quite agree with my sister," he said, resting his fingers lightly on Obi-Wan's temples. "Though you're right – the session you just experienced was the mental equivalent of my sister and I digging around in your head with lightsabers and mining equipment."

Qui-Gon sensed it when Su'um-Va used the Force to ease Obi-Wan's obvious headache, but it was all he could feel. By tentative agreement, Obi-Wan closed his bonds to both Qui-Gon and Anakin when he was working with Su'um-Va and Ra'um-Ve. Obi-Wan had insisted upon it, saying that neither of them needed to feel the pain the Healers' sessions cost him. Qui-Gon, not agreeing with Obi-Wan's reasoning, had called him a stubborn Bantha's ass. Obi-Wan had then greatly amused Anakin by emitting a pitch-perfect Bantha call.

"Either way, it gets back to the reason why we called you," Ra'um-Ve said, reaching for a towel. "The lightsaber-and-drill method has given us some positive results. They're not the best we could hope for, considering we've been working with Obi-Wan on breaking through that damn block for over six months now..."

"But today is also the first time we've gotten any results," Su'um-Va finished for his sister. "It also gives us the impetus to try for more."

"You just keep bringing on the headache relief and I'm game to try anything," Obi-Wan said, smiling grimly.

It was only a few moments later that the others the twins had called for arrived – Master Windu and Master Yoda. "This couldn't have waited?" Mace said, immediately sighting out the Healers as the source of his trouble. "We were in the middle of a Council meeting."

"Healer's Privilege," Ra'um-Ve said immediately, her pleasant smile verging on a smirk. "Besides, I bet you were bored anyway."

Yoda chuckled. "Impertinent you always are, Ra'um-Ve. Respect you should have for your elders."

"I am being respectful, Master Yoda," Ra'um-Ve said, and then performed an elegant bow that belonged at a Senatorial Ball. Mace rolled his eyes.

"She's just this way because she and Mace used to sleep together," Su'um-Va whispered, leaning close to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan overheard and snorted his amusement. Qui-Gon had to hide a grin when Mace glanced their way suspiciously.

"All right. You invoked Healer's Privilege, and you got us here," Mace crossed his arms. "So what's so important?"

"Ah, yes." Ra'um-Ve and her brother were suddenly the epitome of the professional Healer. "We called the three of you down here because, after several months of intensive work on the mental block Master Kenobi bears, we have finally made some sort of progress. He knew when we began that the block had been placed by a Jedi. We still don't know why, but we discovered today that the Jedi who placed the block had built in an identification pattern."

Su'um-Va picked up where his sister left off. "If that same Jedi were to access the block, it would essentially open a door for them. It's a special kind of block – only highly-trained mind healers and the more powerful Masters would know how to build it. It has a specific function; it's designed to allow the Jedi or Healer in charge of it to access specific memories. Generally these have been blocked off for therapeutic reasons. As therapy with the patient progresses, the memories are gradually released as the patient develops the ability to cope with them. We reserve it for situations in which the subject has been highly traumatized."

Highly traumatized. Qui-Gon closed his eyes momentarily. It didn't seem possible, considering how poised Obi-Wan was most of the time. Then again... He glanced at Obi-Wan, who didn't seem very surprised to hear about the block's function. But then, why would he be? Why should any of them be surprised? The nightmares Obi-Wan suffered were proof enough.

"But there were problems in its construction," Ra'um-Ve continued, frowning. "Our guess is this block was built hurriedly – the Jedi involved knew what they were doing, but it was a rush job. There's just enough of a gap for certain stimuli to emerge, such as Knight Kenobi's nightmares. His inability to remember them is the block trying to do its job."

"Of course, here is where things get interesting. When we finally identified the Jedi who built the block, it didn't seem possible. That the two of them could have done such a thing and say nothing - that struck us as strange. It wasn't until we went back through Knight Kenobi's medical history and spoke with Healer Terza that we realized how it could be possible." Su'um-Va looked almost embarrassed. "The experience that Terza documented, dealing with Knight Kenobi's coma and subsequent vision, is the only explanation we have."

"I suppose that's the reason why you called Master Yoda and I here, then," Mace guessed.

Ra'um-Ve nodded. "Master Yoda, Master Windu, it was the two of you who built this block."

Obi-Wan could only shrug when both Mace and Yoda looked at him curiously. "I don't know why, but in retrospect it makes sense. You were..." Obi-Wan hesitated. "You were the only ones around at the time."

"See now, I can, why you asked us here," Yoda said, leaning heavily on his gimer stick. "If access this block we can, then help Obi-Wan we may."

"Yes," Su'um-Va said, but he still looked worried. "As a Healer, I cannot ask this of you without warning you of the danger. As we said, this is a memory block designed for those who have suffered terrible trauma. If you access this block, you will experience everything it contains."

"You could be stuck with my nightmares," Obi-Wan clarified. "Worse, you'd remember them."

Mace sighed and sat down on the only available chair. "This is excellent news, Ra'um-Ve, Su'um-Va... but you two have the worst damned timing in the galaxy."

"We do?" Su'um-Va tilted his head.

"News to us," Ra'um-Ve replied.

Yoda's ears twitched. "Unfortunate, it is, to learn of something so useful at such an inopportune moment. A mission we have, for Master Qui-Gon, Knight Obi-Wan, and their Padawan."

Qui-Gon sighed. "That didn't take long. Though can't it be put off for a day or two?"

Mace shook his head. "I wish it could, Qui-Gon. But we received a priority transmission from Chancellor Vallorum an hour ago – in fact, it's the reason the Council was in session. He's requested Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan specifically for a delicate matter."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan spoke, his eyes just a little too innocent for Qui-Gon's liking. "What sort of delicate matter?"

"The Trade Federation is trying to increase their profits by blockading one of their principle new sources of income, Naboo, to try to force a contract negotiation. The Naboo have already flat-out refused, but the Trade Federation's droid armies have been amassed around the planet. Vallorum's worried, Qui-Gon," Mace said, glancing up at the taller man. "The Naboo have been relatively disarmed for the better part of a hundred years and don't have the resources to fight off a full-scale invasion, and letting it happen would set a dangerous precedent."

Qui-Gon rested his chin in his hand, glancing at Obi-Wan as he did so. Obi-Wan was following the conversation with a carefully neutral expression, and Qui-Gon knew quite well what tended to be hiding behind that. "If they were allowed to get away with such an invasion with the Naboo, they would try it again."

"And again, and again, if not stopped. Vallorum wants a settlement, he wants it now, and he wants that blockade down. If wind of this gets to the Senate..."

Qui-Gon made a face. "They'd tie it up in the courts until the next decade. Obi-Wan?"

"We'll go," Obi-Wan said calmly. Too calmly, really, but even Yoda didn't seem to notice. Qui-Gon was almost willing to chalk it up to his imagination... but he was pretty sure Obi-Wan knew all about Naboo already. Obi-Wan turned to the Healer twins. "This can wait, Su'um-Va?"

Su'um-Va sighed. "I hate waiting, but nothing will change for us waiting a few weeks to open that door. I'll clear you."

"As will I," Ra'um-Ve said, grinning, "but Terza's going to throw a fit."

As soon as Qui-Gon could get Obi-Wan alone, he cornered him. Literally. "What's wrong with Naboo?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Well, it has a very temperate climate, with very pleasant native as well as old colonial populations. The cities are pretty, the land is fertile... but I could see how you might have a problem with it, given what planets we routinely get sent to."

"I'd laugh if you weren't so wound up about it. I know you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said intently. "I know when something's bothering you, and you practically spaced yourself when Mace mentioned Naboo. Tell me – what's got your knickers in a bloody twist?"

Obi-Wan actually grinned at that. "My knickers in a twist?"

"I picked it up from the locals on one of our last missions. Don't change the subject. What's wrong with Naboo?"

Obi-Wan's grin faded, his entire demeanor suddenly melancholy. "It's the beginning, Qui."

"It's the beginning."