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Dimly, Obi-Wan was aware that he was dreaming, but then, logic had never really applied in his dreams. He was still tense, still stalking back and forth, willing the red barrier to cycle again so he could rejoin his Master. His braid flew out behind him as he paced, unable to sit still. How Qui-Gon could stop to meditate in the midst of something like this, he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The fields cycled, and his lip curled in an involuntary snarl as he prepared to run. He saw Qui-Gon immediately leap to his feet, and then halt in surprise. The Sith was no longer anywhere to be seen -- but someone else was. Just as Dark, his features completely hidden, he raised his lightsaber in a strike that was impossibly fast.

Obi-Wan screamed, too little, too late. The lightsaber pierced Qui-Gon's chest, his Master unable to react in time to this new player. He fell, and Obi-Wan stopped in horror as the Dark one raised his head. Eyes gone yellow with corruption stared into his own, and Obi-Wan barely heard the other one begin to laugh.

He forced himself awake, staring up into the darkness of the Temple on Coruscant, and instinctively reached for Qui-Gon. He touched fabric, not bare skin, and looked at his mate in surprise.

There was a stink of burnt ozone in the air, one that he hadn't noticed until now. Qui-Gon was fully dressed, his long hair fanning the pillow. Streaks of gray were visible in the dim light. Obi-Wan moaned under his breath, gripped by familiar fear. He moved the sheet aside, catching sight of the lightsaber wound before steel-blue eyes snapped open, staring at him coldly.

"Foolish boy," the thing beside him whispered wrathfully. "There are some things that you are never going to understand."

Obi-Wan screamed, this time waking up fully and bolting upright in bed. He stuffed a hand into his mouth, biting down fiercely, and a second terrified scream lodged itself in his throat.

Strong, warm arms wrapped themselves around him, and Obi-Wan released a ragged breath, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax back against Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, reassuring him with his presence and his warmth. "Nightmares again?" he asked softly.

Obi-Wan nodded ruefully, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. "I think my brain is trying to kill me." For a moment he simply enjoyed the sensation of being held -- he was used to having to deal with his demons alone.

"You never have to do that again, you know," Qui-Gon said to him softly, responding to the inadvertently broadcasted thought. "I will always be here for you, if you wish it."

Obi-Wan turned around to face him, staring up into warm blue eyes. "I do wish it."

Qui-Gon smiled at him, sleepiness unable to disguise the happiness Obi-Wan's words gave him. "Then lie down with me, love, and let me hold you as you sleep. Let me keep the dreams at bay for once."

Obi-Wan crawled into his lover's arms, letting himself be comforted as Qui-Gon drew the sheets back over them both. He fell asleep again after only a few minutes of feeling the rise and fall of Qui-Gon's chest against him.

He did not dream again.

The next day it seemed most of Coruscant was buzzing with news of the Trade Federation's blockade of Naboo -- and most of it centered around the fact that the Senate seemed unwilling to do anything about it. "Are they so used to inaction that they can't even be bothered to lift their fingers, even for their beloved popularity?" Micah Giett paced back and forth inside his and Tahl's quarters.

"Mic, they're politicians. Right now they're trying to figure out which option will serve them better." Qui-Gon watched the man pace, noticing as Micah's limp become more and more pronounced. "Please, sit down before you fall down." Mic glared at him and then winced in pain, quickly sitting down in a nearby chair. The injury that had nearly taken his life had never healed as well as Terza and Abella hoped.

"At least they didn't call the vote to elect a new Chancellor," Obi-Wan pointed out, looking pensive. "Though I'm worried it might occur to them later."

"What did happen?" Qui-Gon asked, having since realized that as long as an event had already happened, in both instances, Obi-Wan was not quite so reticent about discussing it.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, his hands buried in the sleeves of his robe. "By the twelfth hour today, we had a new Chancellor. Didn't do the Naboo any good. Or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever you told Valorum yesterday, it seems to have helped."

Micah raised one eyebrow. "And this is coming from the man who always bitched at me about neutrality."

Qui-Gon merely shrugged. "Self-preservation overrides political neutrality, in my book."

"Where's Tahl?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly. "She was supposed to be back before us."

Qui-Gon and Micah glanced at each other, and Qui-Gon thought they probably looked about as subtle as a Mynock in heat. Obi-Wan knew that Tahl had taken her Padawan, Bant, to do research, and nothing more. Even now, Qui-Gon was leery about telling his partner what Terza had found in his midichlorian count. "She was supposed to be, yes," Micah said finally. "But then she found a new lead, sent me a nice little blunt message telling me that our bank account was going to dwindle a bit, and headed on to Morous IV. Said they've got a fantastic archive there."

"That they do," Obi-Wan agreed. "What's she looking for?" he asked casually.

Micah and Qui-Gon looked at each other again, Mic raising one eyebrow as if to say, ?What could it hurt?' Aloud, he said, "She's been researching the Prophecy of the Chosen One, pretty much since Qui-Gon sliced your braid."

Obi-Wan tilted his head in acknowledgement, smiling faintly. "I rather thought she would. She's been looking at me like she would desperately love to talk about something, but then doesn't. I assume there's been a reason you didn't want me to know?" His expression was mild, but there was a hint of something in the bond, elusive enough to be just out of his reach. "I've been curious about it myself, but there hasn't been much time for research." Obi-Wan looked unhappy about that, and suddenly Qui-Gon put a name to the elusiveness -- it was the self-directed anger Obi-Wan had felt yesterday during landing.

"Obi-Wan -- " Mic began, and Qui-Gon raised his hand, cutting him off. He knew now that the time for discretion in this matter was over. "Mic, it was my decision. I'll tell him."

"Tell me what?" Obi-Wan said, glancing back and forth between them, brow furrowed. "What in the Force have you been keeping from me? And it better have been with good reason, dammit, or I'll..." he glared at Qui-Gon. "I'll burn those pants!"

The threat almost made him smile. "Do you remember when Terza took Anakin's midichlorian count, when he first arrived here?" Obi-Wan nodded. "She took yours as well."

"Well, yes," Obi-Wan said, confused. "She said she needed..." he trailed off, a dawning look of comprehension in his eyes. How different?"

Qui-Gon stared at him, wishing that he didn't have to say. Wishing that he didn't know. "Twenty-two thousand."

"Twenty-two..." Obi-Wan breathed faintly. "I suppose saying something about it not being possible would be a pointless exercise, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose it would," he replied. He lifted his arms in invitation, almost without thinking about it, and Obi-Wan willingly stepped in close, allowing himself to be held. Obi-Wan sighed, his body tense in Qui-Gon's arms.

"Damn," Micah said in disgust. "I lost the bet."

Qui-Gon glared at his friend as Obi-Wan sputtered laughter against his chest. He turned his attention back to Obi-Wan when Mic looked unrepentant. "Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan tucked his head under Qui-Gon's chin, breathing in deeply. "I'll be fine. To tell you the truth, after the initial shock I'm not even sure if I'm really surprised. I sort of got used to strange things happening to me some time ago."

So does this mean I get to keep the pants? he sent through the bond.

He could feel Obi-Wan's amusement, even without the Force. Yes, you may keep the pants. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I decided not to tell you at first because I thought, after everything that had happened, you might need time to adjust. And then I didn't tell you because we were no longer sure what it meant." Qui-Gon grinned. "And because you know so bloody much, maybe the rest of us mortals wanted to be able to keep some secrets."

Come on, Obi-Wan said, tugging on Qui-Gon's hand, leading him towards Micah's couch to sit. "I need you both to tell me what Tahl has found so far."

They did so, and it didn't take long -- the Jedi who were privy to Tahl's findings didn't know much more than what was already in the Archives. Obi-Wan leaned back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You know, I would almost swear that it all sounds familiar?"

"Anything specific?" Mic asked, turning his walking stick around in his hands in a move abbreviated from a kata. "Tahl could sure use a hint at this point."

"I... no. Sorry," Obi-Wan shook his head. "But if you're right about the concept of the Three, then I'm willing to bet that there's someone else running around the galaxy with a higher than average midichlorian count."

"I hadn't even thought of that," Qui-Gon said, surprised. "Who could it be?"

Obi-Wan answered them by lifting his hands in dismay. "I don't know. This is as new to me as it is to you. And I'm not about to go around poking everyone I meet with a blood sampler to find out." He lifted himself from the couch. "I'm sorry, but I need to go. I promised Anakin that I would meet him for lunch."

"Would you like some company?" Qui-Gon offered.

Obi-Wan glanced at Micah. "Thank you anyway, but Master Giett has that scheming look on his face again. I'm going to leave you to his tender mercies."

Qui-Gon gave him a pained look. "Abandoning me already," he said mournfully.

Obi-Wan raised one eyebrow before leaning over him, kissing him thoroughly in front of a completely boggled Micah. Never, he sent softly.

Qui-Gon watched him go, knowing that he looked completely besotted.

"Well," Micah said finally. "I think I should have guessed. You looked far too happy when you walked in my door this morning."

"I am far too happy," Qui-Gon said, resting his hands on his knees as he leaned forward. "And worried. Obi-Wan is angry about something, and has been since we got to Coruscant. I'm almost afraid to ask why." Though Obi-Wan had promised he would tell him. Qui-Gon just wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I'm almost certain it has something to do with the Sith."

Micah nodded. "After what happened, I'm not really surprised. And then in the Council Chamber... Adi told me what happened. That shielding sounds damned useful."

"You weren't there," Qui-Gon shook his head. "It's ... it's horrifying." He clasped his hands together, remembering what it had been like. "No one should cut themselves off from the Force like that. It's unnatural."

"I'm not entirely sure that's what he did, Qui-Gon," Micah shook his head. "Does Obi-Wan really strike you as someone who would willingly cut himself off from the Force?"

"I... no. Of course not," he said finally. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," Micah said, slamming his staff down on the floor with enough force to make Qui-Gon jump. "I'm not a Combat Master for nothing. You take away your enemy's advantages, not your own. I say he didn't cut himself off from the Force -- I'd say he hid within it. And I'm going to ask him to teach me how to do it."

"Why? So that you can hide from your enemies and bash them with that stick of yours as they walk by?" Qui-Gon asked, the very thought amusing him greatly.

"Hell yes," Micah responded instantly. "That sounds like a fantastic idea."

Qui-Gon paused. "You're serious, aren't you."

"Yes!" Micah practically shouted. More quietly, he went on. "Teaching the A.L.T. class is great, Qui-Gon, don't get me wrong. But I'm oh so bored, and have been for quite some time. My mate has been useful for years, despite what happened to her. Maybe it's time for me to be useful again, too."

He looked at his friend thoughtfully. "Maybe it is. What about Garen?"

"Garen will think it's a fantastic idea. My Padawan may spend all of his time becoming one of the best pilots we've got, but he's going to need some field work before his Trials. Besides, then there's someone who can save my ass if something goes wrong."

"So what are your plans for the day?" Obi-Wan said, pushing away his empty tray. Not that there had been much on it to begin with -- he still stood by his opinion on commissary food.

Anakin didn't have any such limitations, and was making a second tray's worth of food from the kitchens disappear at an inhuman rate. Growth spurt, Obi-Wan suspected. "Well, I'm not scheduled to be in class, since we're still kinda working on our mission. I was thinking of going to the creche to play with my friends."

"They do have classes of their own, though," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Yeah, but I checked with Terrilanar, and she said it was okay if I volunteered to help her with the rest of the Falcons." Anakin shoveled more food into his mouth, almost as if he was afraid it was going to go away. "Besides, I missed them. And there's whispers that Saini is going to be Chosen soon, so I want to see her before it's just about impossible to catch her in the Temple."

Obi-Wan grinned at Anakin's enthusiasm. "I'm not going to stop you, Ani. You deserve some free time -- take it while you can get it."

"Okay," Anakin agreed, completely willing. "Do you know when we're going back to Naboo?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped. "Do you think we should?" he asked blandly.

"Well, yeah. If we're going to be able to get the Trade Federation off of Naboo, we have to. Besides, if the Naboo and the Gungans don't make that peace, Jar Jar's never going to be able to go home."

Obi-Wan sat back, staring at his Padawan blankly. "You remember."

Anakin ducked his head. "Not everything," he said apologetically. "But this... it was really important last time. I remember a lot of it." He looked up at his Master hesitantly. "You're not mad, are you?"

Obi-Wan sighed internally. "No, Ani. I'm not mad at you. I'm just concerned, is all."

"You don't have to be," Anakin pointed out. "Look at it this way -- if I know what's going to happen, I can be prepared for it when it does happen. And then I can run away."

"I suppose so." Obi-Wan attempted a smile. "You should get going -- you're going to want to change clothes. The Falcons are supposed to help the little ones paint today."

Anakin nodded, inhaling the rest of his food in record time. He stood up and walked -- very quickly -- to return his and Obi-Wan's trays before rushing out of the commissary.

Obi-Wan was thinking of doing the same when he was effectively boxed in. Abella sat to his left, Garen to his right. Before he could say anything, Reeft and Aalto took the seats directly across from him. "I do believe this is an ambush," he said tactfully.

Aalto gave him a broad grin. The animosity that had once been in their lives had long since been dealt with, and now he was just as welcome as the rest of his friends. "Well, yes. You're always involved in all of the fun stuff, Kenobi, and we want the details that don't go out in the daily reports."

Garen elbowed him playfully. "Yes. Us poor, pitiful Padawans don't rate the exciting stuff. By the way, would you like some caff? A lot of it?"

Obi-Wan observed the mug of steaming caff clenched tightly in Garen's hand, then noticed the very wide-eyed look his friend was giving him. "I think you'd kill me if I tried to take it from you. Gods, Garen, how much have you had?"

"Of this?" Garen took a long drink, decimating half of the cup's contents in one go. "That depends. What day is this?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "What in the hell are you doing?"

Reeft smiled. "He's taking all of his licensing finals at once this week, so he decided to study them all en masse." Reeft's smile broadened. "He vibrates."

Obi-Wan hid a grin. Ever since Garen and Reeft had decided that they really liked each other, last spring, his friend had been a bit less shy. About everything.

Abella was sitting close by his side. Very close, he realized suddenly. "Is there something you need?" he asked politely.

The Chitanok girl eyed him curiously, and then dropped her nose against his shoulder and sniffed. Then she sniffed him again, taking a long, deep breath. She settled back in her chair, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "When?"

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at her. "Last night, you wench."

"Ah, gods!" she exclaimed, giving him a dirty look. "I was off by one day. One! I was so bloody close!"

Aalto looked highly amused. "Force, it's about time. I thought we were going to have to trick the two of you into bed."

Reeft smiled broadly at him, and Garen grinned and hugged Obi-Wan around the shoulders. "Excellent news. This calls for more caff."

"Garen, you're going to explode as it is," Obi-Wan laughed, ducking out from under Garen's arm. Reeft was right; Garen was vibrating.

"Yes, well. I need something to take me off of the fact that I lost that bloody bet. I had it pegged for two weeks from now." He slugged the last of the caff down his throat.

"Don't feel bad," Obi-Wan said sympathetically. "I lost, too."

There was a short moment of silence, and then Abella punched him in the arm. "You sneaky bastard! You bet on yourself!?" she said, laughing.

He shrugged, face completely inscrutable. "No harm in it. After Anakin let it slip that there was a pool on us in the first place, I thought it was sort of funny." Garen, he noticed, had slipped off long enough to refill his mug of caff.

"So who did win?" Aalto asked, looking around. "I'm not even sure who started this thing in the first place."

Abella grinned, showing off her newly grown sharp teeth, marking the Chitanok entry into adulthood. "Ask Master Windu. He knows." She leaned against Obi-Wan conspiratorially. "So what was it like?" she asked shamelessly.

That earned her a glare. "The entire bloody Temple knows that I'm having sex, and who with. That's all the information anyone is ever going to get."

"Geeze, that's too bad," Garen said sadly. "I could have used some new material."

Obi-Wan looked askance at him, and then, with elaborate movements, scooted as far away from Garen as he could get while the others laughed.

"Anyway," Reeft said, giving Garen a speculative look. "I can fix that. "

Obi-Wan's commlink went off in his pocket, and he wanted to curse. It was so rare that the people he had grown up with were all in the Temple at the same time... "Kenobi," he said, knowing immediately that it wasn't Qui or Anakin. They had much more efficient means of contacting him.

"Obi-Wan, it's Depa," the older woman's voice filtered through the comm speaker. "I hate to bother you, but there's a problem."

Obi-Wan frowned, lowering the volume so that he and his friends could hear Depa Billaba, but no one else would. "What's wrong?"

"Master Jill-Hyra has gone missing. She was supposed to meet with the Healers early this morning, but never showed, and scans don't show her anywhere inside the Temple proper. I thought you might be able to help me find her, especially after yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" Aalto hissed, and Obi-Wan waved him to silence.

"I can try," Obi-Wan said, thinking quickly. "Where are her quarters?" Depa told him, and he glanced around the table at his friends. All of them were accomplished Padawans, and except for Abella, were destined soon to be Jedi Knights. "Okay. I'll be there in five minutes." He flipped the comm off, wanting to bite his lip and resisting the urge. This was something else that was unexpected, and he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or cross.

I should have taken the time to deal with this earlier, he thought angrily. And I didn't. If something happens today, the fault is mine. He stood, touching the lightsaber on his belt briefly.

"So where do you think you're going?" Abella asked him flatly, gripping his arm.

"Especially without us?" Aalto said, rising with the others.

Obi-Wan looked back at them, pride and worry warring within him. He saw the stubbornness in three sets of eyes and knew that there would be no dissuading them. "If you follow me, you do what I or Master Billaba says," he said tersely, needing them to understand this. "No matter what. I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen. If I say to run, you run. And if your Masters don't want you involved, you don't go. Period."

Abella smiled at him, a hint of the Chitanok predator revealing itself. "We understand, Obi. We're Jedi, same as you."

"Even if this just winds up being retrieval, it's still a hell of a lot more interesting than what my day called for," Aalto grinned. "Damned laundry."

"Then filter that caff, Garen," Obi-Wan ordered quietly. "And contact your Masters."

All of them met Depa just outside Jill-Hyra's quarters. The Jedi Master raised one sculpted eyebrow at the group. "Master Obi-Wan, you seem to have multiplied in the last twenty-four hours," she said, smiling.

"Master Depa," he said, smiling slightly in return. "I ran into a group of volunteers. They promise to do as we say, should anything drastic become necessary."

"I hope it does not come to that," she said softly, quickly overriding the lock on the door as she spoke. They stepped into Jill-Hyra's quarters, and the Darkness was like a slap in Obi-Wan's face. He found his hand hovering just above his lightsaber and forced himself to leave his arms at his sides. No one was anywhere in the suite, that he was certain of.

"Holy gods," Garen said, glancing around. "This place is fucking rank -- sorry, Master Billaba," he said apologetically. "But it is."

"That's all right, Padawan Muln," Depa replied. "I find I am quite fond of your apt description."

Abella rubbed at her furred arms. "How were we not feeling this before the door opened? The entire Temple should be able to sense this!"

Aalto rubbed at his skin, frowning. "It feels like it wants to stick. I don't know about you folks, but I'm going to shower after this until I lose a couple of layers of skin."

Obi-Wan nodded absently in agreement. He stepped further into the room, the altered currents of the Force trying to cling to him, whispering of dark things. There was a marked barrier that surrounded the entirety of Jill-Hyra's rooms -- a variant of the shielding he'd demonstrated yesterday. He had sensed none of this when Jill-Hyra had been around him, unless she had been hiding it. Or perhaps... he shuddered at the thought. Perhaps someone else had hidden it for her. "Abella, can you scent her?"

The young woman nodded, and she didn't look happy about it. "You humans tend to reek if you're nervous -- and this Master, she's definitely got something on her mind. She was still here this morning. Jill-Hyra left two, maybe three hours ago. If that."

He found Jill-Hyra's Force signature finally, the pale yellow and gold strands nearly lost in a stranglehold of black and gray filth. "She's been coerced," he said, the truth of Jill-Hyra's actions finally becoming clear. "And I didn't see it." He cursed himself thoroughly, turning around to face the others. "We have to find her. Now."

"You lead," Depa said grimly.

Qui-Gon left Micah in the process of trying to contact his lifemate. They had, in truth, accomplished very little, but Qui-Gon didn't mind. After the past few months, it had been a relief to do something as simple as plan for a friend's future. Anakin? he broadcast, nudging the training bond he had with the boy.

Yes, Master Qui-Gon? Anakin replied, sounding distracted. Did you need something?

I was just wondering what you were up to today, Qui-Gon replied. It seems to involve herding small children.

I'm helping the Falcons with some of the younger kids, Anakin said, happiness filtering through the training bond. I missed hanging out with them, even if we are having to duck flying paint.

Qui-Gon chuckled quietly as he stepped into the nearest lift. Do you mind if I join you? It sounds like a really wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

Sure, you can join me, Anakin said, a bit confused. I just thought after last night, that you and Obi-Wan would like some time to yourselves.

Qui-Gon nearly stumbled. You... heard that?

No. Anakin giggled at his discomfort. But Obi-Wan looked a lot happier than he usually does. It wasn't hard to figure out.

I'm being heartily embarrassed by a nine year old, Qui-Gon thought. So who won the bet? he dared to ask.

I did, Anakin replied smugly.

Qui-Gon laughed, stepping off of the lift and into a raucous downpour of happy voices. The younger children were completely enthralled with the presence of the Padawan and near-Padawans. True to form, there was paint everywhere. Qui-Gon resigned himself to colorful handprints all over his tunics and stepped into the crowd.

"Master Jinn's here!" a little boy cried, and that seemed to be the signal. They all attacked at once, and Qui-Gon knew he was doomed. Anakin grinned at him, his face smeared with paint, as his swarm of Initiates migrated over to where Qui-Gon stood.

Trying to look incongruous as they walked quickly through the Temple's public areas, Obi-Wan led them all unerringly to a lift, punching the button for the lowest floor. It let them off in a quiet area, and from there it was the stairs. They walked down circular passageways for a time, and the further they went, the less used the Temple felt.

They crossed a small room, pulling their lightsabers out for a light source as light became less and less reliable. Finally Obi-Wan tried a door that moved easily, and they stepped into total darkness. Lightsabers ignited, and the five Jedi looked around in awe.

"Holies," Garen breathed, holding up his lightsaber to reveal the graceful arches of the ceiling overhead. "I didn't know anything like this was down here."

Judging by the dust, this area of the Temple had been out of cleaning rotation for a long time. The walls were of much older construction, far more decorative than the higher levels. There were panels in the walls that might once have provided light, but they flickered dully, their power cells almost completely dry.

Abella reached out, gently tracing the artful, sweeping lines that graced the walls at shoulder level. "This is incredible. This must be the original part of the Temple." Her eyes flashed in the glow of the others' lightsabers. "How old is it?"

"About a thousand years," Depa answered her. "We're actually not far from Coruscant's surface. That is why there is no light -- see, there are windows there." She gestured over to their right -- a long bank of clear glass lined the hall. The only view was darkness. Some of the windows had broken, from age as well as environmental abuse. The air had a thick, fuzzy quality that made breathing difficult.

Obi-Wan listened with one ear, trying to sort out Jill-Hyra's path from here. She had been much more careful about her Force signature after leaving the Temple proper. He looked down, scuffing his boot through the dust that lay upon the floor, and then walked forward, raising his lightsaber.

She had not been so careful about the footprints she left behind.

"This way," he said softly.

They found her alone in a small, empty room, pacing back and forth. Obi-Wan caught a glint of metal in her hands, almost hidden from view. She looked up as they approached, snarling. "Stay away from me!"

Obi-Wan dropped back, letting Depa take the lead. The Chalactan woman gazed serenely upon the other Master. "We missed you this morning, Lofla."

"I know," Lofla Jill-Hyra said, glaring at the rest of the Jedi with Depa. "I see you brought the play-Knight. And friends of his, too?"

Depa inclined her head. "Yes, I did. I asked Obi-Wan to help me look for you. These Padawans wished to help us, as well."

Jill-Hyra kept turning the piece of metal around in her hands, but Obi-Wan still couldn't see what it was. "I'm sure you did. Give her to the mind healers, they'll fix her! Obviously there's something wrong with her!" She looked pained as she spoke, as if she desperately wanted to agree with them, but could not.

"Lofla, I am your friend," Depa stepped forward, holding out one hand. "I was concerned for you. Why did you come here?"

"Because I had something I was supposed to do," Jill-Hyra said. "One last thing, and then there won't be a thing wrong with me anymore." She clenched the object in her hands tightly, the light shining on it fully, and Obi-Wan knew exactly what it was.

A detonator.

"Depa," he whispered, a lump of ice suddenly forming in his chest. He was suddenly, horribly, desperately aware of what Jill-Hyra planned to do. Anakin!

"Lofla, what is it that you have?" Depa asked, her eyes widening in surprise as she, too, realized what the other woman held.

"He gave it to me," Jill-Hyra said, tears running down her cheeks. "He gave it to me." Her hands still clenched tightly around the device, she moved one finger and depressed the trigger before any of them could move to stop her.

Anakin jerked upright, eyes wide, completely ignoring everything around him. Master? He glanced around, finding Qui-Gon in the mess of children. Master Qui-Gon, we have to get everyone out of the creche!

Qui-Gon stopped in the midst of what he was doing, meeting Anakin's frightened eyes. Anakin, what -- and then he felt it, too -- a rush of premonition, warning him of the terrible thing about to happen.

There was a series of muted explosions, and Qui-Gon felt their vibrations beneath his feet just before the floor seemed to fall out from beneath him. Then his teeth clamped together viciously when the fall abruptly halted with the floor now several inches lower than before. "Come on!" he said, projecting his voice for the small crowd of suddenly bewildered children. "We're going out into the gardens. Everyone grab a partner and head for the door. Anakin is going to lead you. Hurry!" Anakin nodded his understanding, grabbing the hand of a small girl next to him while Saini picked up the youngest child. They led their charges through the doors and out into the hall, instinctively avoiding the lifts.

Terrilanar roared, catching his arm as Qui-Gon nearly stumbled when the floor cracked beneath them. [Come on!] she said, and they both raced further into the creche. Instantly they were met by a cloud of dust and smoke. He could hear so many high-pitched cries for help, but could see nothing. Chips of the ceiling rained down on them. "How many?" he yelled.

[Too many!] Terrilanar replied, howling her grief. [Most of the clans stayed in the creche today.]

Qui-Gon hit the emergency transponder on his commlink. It would send a signal through the Temple's network, activating an alarm that would be immediately noticed. Already he could feel curious/concerned/horrified impressions of other Jedi as they approached the creche.

Help us! the Wookiee screamed at those who were gathering. We need everyone here! NOW!

"Go that way!" Qui-Gon said, pointing into one of the rooms where he could already see flame. "Find who you can! I'll go this way!" Terrilanar rumbled her agreement, her giant frame disappearing into the smoke.

"No!" Abella screamed, falling to the ground as the floor moved sickeningly beneath her feet.

Obi-Wan dropped his lightsaber, forgotten, to the ground. He could feel the damage to the Temple, could sense the great support posts that the creche had been built upon giving way. Without thought he reached out, his arms raised, and held them in place with the Force.

The great pillars protested, trying to escape what held them, damaged beyond repair. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and held, keeping the creche above them stable. "Go!" he yelled, the upper foundations his only priority. "I'll hold it long enough for you to get everyone out!"

Dimly he heard another scream, one of rage. There was a flash of light and the cry ceased. Depa's hand gripped his shoulder. "Obi-Wan!" she yelled.

"I said go!" he yelled back, not seeing her, not seeing anything but the Temple's foundations in his mind's eye. "Go help them!"

His shoulder was squeezed. "We will return. I promise."

He could hear the others leave, puzzled when he heard only four sets of retreating feet. But Jill-Hyra didn't matter now. He settled to his knees, directing the Force to fill the gaps, to shore up the ruined columns. There was a sense of danger, and he traced its source, finding one more explosive charge ready to detonate. His brow furrowed, and he dismantled the charge with a thought.

If only he could have done the same to the others.

Qui-Gon dropped down through cracked rock, seizing a human girl and her friend, who were clinging tightly to each other. They smiled up at him, trusting him to save their lives. He smiled back, lifting them out of the crevice with the Force. Holding them both slung over his shoulder, he ran with Force-enhanced speed for the green light that someone had placed in the creche's entryway. He felt Mace join him as he ran, a small Zabrack boy held tightly in his dark arms. How many more? he asked, leaping to one side when another piece of the ceiling above them gave way and crashed to the broken floor. Nothing in the floor had given way, but even over all of the noise he could hear it, groaning and splintering.

Three! Mace responded tightly. All of them in the direction I came from.

Qui-Gon deposited his precious cargo, letting the girls be claimed by the Healers who had flocked over from their part of the Temple to help. I'll go, he said, catching sight of Anakin amidst the chaos, helping Saini move the Initiates that weren't injured down to the gardens. The hallway was filled with crying children, working Healers, and the dust-covered, soot-stained Jedi who had come to help them. Master Yoda watched over the children in the gardens, keeping the unharmed children entertained. Or at least occupied. Qui-Gon didn't think they would truly allow themselves to be distracted from the fact that their home had just been destroyed.

I'll go with you, Mace offered, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

You need to stay with Tuuvino, he told him. Your new Padawan needs you.

Mace looked as if he was about to protest, then smiled ruefully, accepting the truth of Qui-Gon's words. Hell of a lousy way to claim a Padawan. "Go," he said aloud. "I'll send someone else as soon as I find an able body."

Qui-Gon nodded and ducked back into the debris cloud, took a breath and nearly choked. Still coughing, he ripped a long piece of raw silk from his tunics, wrapping it around his nose and mouth to filter out the poison in the air. He ran back in the direction that Mace had appeared from, noticing immediately when another Jedi began to shadow him.

There was a broken pillar blocking his way, and he stopped long enough to climb over it. Quinlan Vos appeared beside him then, and Qui-Gon gave the younger man a hand up. "Lovely day, isn't it, Master Jinn?" Quinlan asked sardonically, his teeth bared in a fierce, angry grimace.

They jumped down, and a wall of fire rushed up through a gap in the floor. The two Jedi ran through it, singed but having no time to worry about burns. This part of the creche was rapidly going up in flames from a broken gas line.

"What happened to that damned fire repression system?" Qui-Gon barked out, trying to feel out the location of the last three children with the Force. There. All three were huddled together under a table, so covered in dust that they were blending in with the smoke. "That way!"

He and Quinlan jumped onto the lower part of the floor, pausing when it tried to shift beneath them. "The sensors were probably damaged," Quinlan shouted, answering his question. "We'll have to get the computer to turn it on manually!" Quinlan opened his arms. "Come on, younglings! It's time to go!"

The two frightened Initiates climbed into the waiting Knight's arms, watching with huge eyes as Qui-Gon gently lifted the third. He cradled the unconscious Twi'lek boy, recognizing him as part of Obi-Wan and Micah's A.L.T. class. "Okay, then!" Quinlan said cheerfully. "Time to go!"

They jumped back onto the steadier part of the floor. Quinlan lifted the two children to the top of the fallen pillar, letting them scrabble over, before he jumped to the top. Qui-Gon lifted up Sia'me, letting Quinlan take him long enough so that he could scale the pillar as well, which was growing hot to the touch. They both jumped down, once again taking the children into their arms. Now they could both run with Force-enhanced speed along a relatively clear path, leaving smoke and flame behind them.

They stepped back into the hall, where the air was instantly clearer. One of the Healers had installed a force field that kept the noxious fumes and dust from drifting into the area. "Is that all?" Terza asked, appearing in front of him to take Sia'me from his arms.

"That's everyone," Qui-Gon said. At his words, there was a slow, creaking groan from behind him. He, Terza, and Quinlan turned to look as the tortured ceiling caved in behind them. There was a terrible roar as the already-stressed floor, burdened anew, finally gave way. More Jedi stepped up, armed with portable extinguishers and started working on putting out what fires they could reach from here. "Another team's trying to access the area from the floors above," Quinlan explained. "Though we're damned lucky that the creche was built to be a self-sustaining system. If it hadn't been, the entire Temple would be falling down around our ears."

Qui-Gon glanced back at him. "If that had been their goal from the start, I don't think we would have noticed until it was too late."

Quinlan shuddered. "Don't say crap like that. I'm going to have nightmares as it is.

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement. He turned away, fighting to get through the influx of people without bumping into working healers. Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan approaching, and the younger man was broadcasting tiredness even though Qui-Gon knew he was trying not to.

He found Obi-Wan at the head of the stairs that led down into the oldest parts of the Temple, and shook his head sadly. Obi-Wan bore Master Lofla Jill-Hyra's body in his arms.

They placed her body on the floor of the Great Hall, before Obi-Wan slumped down to sit on the lowest step of the massive staircase. He rested his head in his hands, his eyes red-rimmed. "I guess Depa did that," he said, his eyes flicking over to where Jill-Hyra lay, a lightsaber burn crossing her body from shoulder to waist. "I was so concerned with the foundation..."

Qui-Gon sat down next to Obi-Wan, pulling the unresisting man against him. "I thought that was probably you, love. Thank you. You gave us all enough time to get the children out."

"I should have done something about it before it came to this. I knew something felt wrong about Jill-Hyra... and then..." he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "This is my fault."

Qui-Gon shook his head vehemently. "No, it's not. Jill-Hyra made her own decision." He glared at the older woman's body, not yet sure what the Council would decide to do with her.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again and stared at him, haunted. "No. No it wasn't, and I don't know how long it's been since it was not her choice to make. She was coerced, Qui. And I missed it." He laughed shortly. "I even know why I did. Doesn't make me feel any better."

Coerced. Jill-Hyra was a stubborn individual, from what Qui-Gon remembered of working with her, and had been strong in the Force, secure in her place in the universe. If she could be coerced...

No. We would not all be such easy marks. Jill-Hyra let herself be distracted, and left herself vulnerable, I think. The darkness preys on that - preys on weakness, not strengths. Obi-Wan scrubbed at his eyes with his hands tiredly. Qui, your mate is not a perfect man. I allowed myself to become complacent, despite everything I knew. It was my weakness, and it was taken advantage of. I'm angry at myself because it has cost us dearly.

What are you talking about? he asked in confusion.

I promised you that I would explain, Obi-Wan said, taking Qui-Gon's hand in his own. I was going to, last night... but then I got a bit distracted. He smiled as he said it, his face reflecting his love and his forgiveness of the distraction. So I will do explain now. When I shielded myself from you and Anakin on Queen Amidala's ship, it wasn't just to see if I could still do so. It was also so that, maybe, I would be able to see if my suspicions were correct.

And what suspicions would these be?

Obi-Wan laced their fingers together. I wanted to know why I had notions and ideas to research certain things, certain people, during quiet time on missions. But whenever we returned to Coruscant, I forgot about it. It just suddenly... wasn't a concern any more. Yet, when we would leave, I would think of it all over again. Then, when we met one of the Senators a few months ago, I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I wanted to know why.

He took a deep breath. I asked the Force to help me see... if there was anything to see. And there was. I can show you, but it will be difficult.

Qui-Gon thought about it, knowing that if Obi-Wan said it was difficult that he was being truthful. Show me, he decided.

Obi-Wan smiled at him, and then he reached over to take Qui-Gon's other hand as well. "I'm sorry, but it'll hurt a little bit."

Qui-Gon felt it as Obi-Wan began to softly touch his mind with the Force. Nothing was intrusive, and Obi-Wan did not ask for or try to gain entry into his thoughts. He seemed almost to be looking for something. Then he felt Obi-Wan grip something that he had never even known was there, and there was a bit of pain when he peeled it away. The strange energy was dark and cloudy in his mind's eye, and in the real world Obi-Wan made a face before burning it away. "What am I looking for -- gods," Qui-Gon whispered.

There was red haze everywhere he looked.

It lay on the stairs and on the polished floors. It filtered in with the light through the windows. If he refocused his senses and looked out of the windows, the red layer was everywhere, covering everything. Even the sky was discolored by it. "Sith, Obi-Wan. What is that?!"

"It's a veil," Obi-Wan replied softly. "A very subtle, very well-created piece of dark art. It's in place over the entire planet."

Qui-Gon stared at it, feeling his skin prickle in fear at the realization that the veil had just been covering him, too. "What does it do?"

"As near as I can tell, it makes people... forget. Or not quite forget," Obi-Wan explained, trying to clarify. "It alters the way the Force speaks to us."

Qui-Gon shuddered at the thought. He was so entwined with the Force that he sometimes couldn't tell where it ended and he began. This... this was more horrible than any shielding. "Why?" he whispered.

"I remember Master Yoda saying, once -- ?Hard to see, the Dark Side is.' I always wondered about that -- Darkness seemed pretty damned obvious every time I ran into it." Obi-Wan's mouth twisted in bitter amusement. "I always wondered why the future was so clouded, when I or Yoda or any of the other Masters meditated on it. Back then, we surmised that maybe there was too much change to get even a hint of an actual outcome. Now... I know differently."

"The Sith Lord is here, now, on Coruscant. He has been here for years, and unless I or the others come up with something brilliant, he will be here for years to come. He hides in plain sight. The entire Council has met him, bowed to him in greeting. No one has sensed anything. They will not sense anything now, unless he drops his shielding, and the Sith will not do so willingly."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, most of him still in shock. The rest of him wanted to plan. "It would probably be safer to dispatch the Apprentice first," he said finally. "I don't think I ever want to have to deal with two at once."

"It would certainly get the Sith Lord's attention," Obi-Wan said, leaning his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Do not tell the others this yet, especially Yoda. I think he would figure it out. Worse than that, I think he would decide to do something about it."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Qui-Gon mused.

"Yes it is. Because Yoda does not yet know exactly what we face. He... " Obi-Wan paused, as if arguing with himself. Finally he shrugged. "He lost to the Sith before. It was not fatal, but it was a near thing. And even if this time, Yoda were successful, the repercussions could still destroy us. The Sith's public identity has built up an incredible power base, with many supporters. There are already whispers among those supporters that the Jedi are not so well-loved as we like to think we are."

So they were damned both ways, then. At least until another choice presented itself. Qui-Gon looked up as he sensed others approaching -- Micah Giett, Mace Windu, Depa Billaba, and Quinlan Vos. Depa's face became grieved as she realized they were keeping watch over the body of her dead friend.

Mace stared down at the dead woman before closing his eyes and looking away. "I'm not sure what we should do about her. If she was coerced, then we owe her a pyre. But I'm really not in the mood to be so... magnanimous."

"So we'll stuff her in deep freeze for now. Gods know we've got enough to worry about tonight," Micah said, leaning heavily on his staff. "We've got seventy children with no place to sleep."

"We'll double up, then," Qui-Gon suggested immediately. "None of those children are going to want to sleep alone. There have to be empty quarters available, and when we fill those up, we'll spread the rest out among us."

Quinlan grinned tiredly. "Well, my quarters are empty and fair game, then. I have a... er, friend, that I'll be spending the night with. My Padawan can split a room with her Padawan."

"Then my quarters are available, too. We'll just temporarily invade Qui-Gon's rooms," Obi-Wan offered. "Saini and Anakin will probably want to room together, unless she gets Chosen before the day is over."

"She may well be Chosen tonight," Micah said. "She was being watched rather closely by Master Ch'tall'ah, despite the chaos."

Mace nodded. "All right -- Obi-Wan, you are the most familiar with the damage. Tell me what you know."

"Jill-Hyra set charges on almost all of the support columns that the creche was built upon. I can't say what kind they were until we dig out whatever's left... but I've got a fairly good idea of where they came from. There are enough black markets in the lower levels that she could have purchased them herself, but I don't think that's the case." Obi-Wan regarded Jill-Hyra's body sadly. "I think she was trying very hard to fight the coercion, but her defenses were so broken down that she couldn't gain any ground. When she fell to that Force suggestion so easy in the commissary..."

"Not even the Healers could find it," Mace said quietly. "So you can stop beating yourself up over that. They were in her head repeatedly for months and noticed nothing."

"Besides, thanks to you, this is the only body we have," Micah pointed out.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "There will be repercussions to this. For us as well as everyone else."

"Oh, great," Quinlan muttered. "Now I've got something to look forward to."

The evening newsfeeds were full of news about the Temple bombing, and paid no attention to anything else. Even the major sky traffic collision, occurring as pilots reacted in shock to the explosion, was just a barely mentioned side note.

The blockade of Naboo had been completely forgotten.

Epilogue:

After months of frustration, Tahl finally caught a break. The Jedi Library of Morous IV was a fantastic place that, under normal circumstances, she could have spent months in. The treasures the people had gathered in appreciation of the Jedi rivaled some of the finest collections on Coruscant.

The Library had even contacted her first, hearing of Tahl's search from other researchers they had met along the way. Saying they would be able to help her, they told Tahl something that was music to hear ears -- the Morous IV Library housed nothing other than the original copy of the Prophecy of the Chosen One, written by Master Abhin Sal-Tur in the early days of the Republic. She had told no one except Bant, not wanting to get the Temple's hopes up if her evaluation of the text proved inconclusive.

She sent Bant off to search the library's archives for more references to the Prophecy, knowing that if anyone had made a study of the document it would be on file.

The head Librarian, a tall woman whose voice sounded like gentle wind over reeds, led her with muted steps through the vast rooms. The place was more like a museum than a library, really.

Then the quality of the air changed as Tahl was led into an environmentally controlled area, probably one of the vaults. "This is it," the other woman --Kerin - said, her soft voice alight with excitement. "I will place it here on the table," she said, knocking on the surface of it so that Tahl could feel the vibration and place its location in the room. "If you wish to touch it, then I must bathe your hands with a chemical. It burns a little bit, but it ensures that no oils or toxins will degrade the text."

Tahl willingly held out her hands, fighting back a grimace as the foul-smelling liquid touched her skin. It took only moments to dry, and then Tahl stepped forward, finding the table unerringly.

She laid her hands carefully on the parchment, easing her touch when the ancient paper crackled threateningly. Kept in a case that was airtight, away from the light that would also break down the sensitive fibers, the text was actually in surprisingly good shape. "Has anyone transcribed it?" Tahl asked. "I can tell that the ink is not nearly as strong as it once was."

"Yes. But I thought that you would enjoy touching the real thing. Your reputation in research and archival studies precedes you, Master Tahl, and we enjoy being able to give you a chance to deal with the real item."

She nodded, grateful. Four thousand years old, she thought wonderingly. A time traveler is in my hands, all the way from the second great Sith War. Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, Nomi Sunrider, and all the drama a Jedi child could ever want.

She had trained her hands to feel for the things that her eyes had once shown her. Now she could feel age with her hands with startling accuracy. Tahl could identify paper by feel, and with the Force she could read inks long since faded into faint blurs. Her fingers even now traced the lines of the Prophecy itself -- written in Gaelanor, complete with the culture's triangle motifs framing the written words. But the writing had been crudely done, as if the Master had been in a great hurry. It didn't match other works of Sal-Tur, on file in the Temple Archives. They had all retained the Gaelanor gracefulness. This was not graceful. More than that; even the paper felt wrong.

Without moving, she spoke to Kerin. "Has this been dated?"

"It was gifted to us by a Jedi," Kerin said immediately. "He placed the date on the parchment himself, so it was a date we trusted. It is at the bottom left of the paper, beneath Master Sal-Tur's signature."

Her fingers found the date well enough, or the place where it might once have dwelled. The ink was too far gone for her senses to translate. "Has it been chemically dated since then? It's standard procedure in dealing with documents of this importance and age."

"I... no. It has not," Kerin said, confusion in her voice. "But the Prophecy has been in our possession for a thousand years, given to us by Master Sal-Tur personally. This is recorded in the archives, if you need documentation."

"Did he?" Tahl managed to say, her mouth dry. An out of the way place, Morous IV is. They've built a shrine to the Jedi over the years, and they've got the artifacts. But the Morous focus on the last millennium; they consider it their specialty. They tie it to the founding of their colony. They do not know all of our history. How perfect it must have seemed...

"Kerin, Master Sal-Tur died at the right hand of Master Nomi Sunrider during a rebellion on Teta... four thousand years ago," she said, trying to break the news to the Librarian gently.

The archivist let out a horrified gasp. "Master Tahl, our paper cannot be a fake! We have kept it here for a millennium!"

"The paper is not a fake," Tahl said softly. "But I think the one who brought it to you was. Can you have this dated?" she asked, reluctantly removing her hands from the paper. "It is desperately important."

"It ca be arranged, Master Jedi," Kerin said, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the room as she stepped forward. Paper crackled only slightly. "I will have our best chemists sample it. If it is dire, I can make sure the results are available in a few hours."

"I don't think it's dire, but it is important. I need to get back to Coruscant as quickly as possible. I do not think your document is a fake, Librarian Kerin. But your author should now be considered anonymous."

"Master Tahl, if Sal-Tur did not write this prophecy, then who did?"

Tahl shook her head slowly. "I don't know." She touched the lightsaber that was tucked neatly away in her sash. "I have a bad feeling about this."