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Rituals of the Sacred and the Mundane

by Sian (sian@randomadventures.com)

Archive: M_A

Home Page at Lori's Hawkson -- http://www.hawksong.com/sian/index.html

Category: POV

Rating: R

Pairing: Q/O

Summary: The rituals of Obi-Wan's life.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters contained herein belong to someone else and I'm just conscripted them for my use. No infringement or disrespect is intended.

Feedback: Yes, on-list or off

Story Notes: Rituals of the Sacred & The Mundane was first published in the wonderful zine Rituals & Meditations (still on sale ;-)

To my betas all my thanks as always. I would be nothing without you.

Sometimes I feel the most useful things I was ever taught came during my first days in the crčche. Which is not to say said knowledge hasn't been updated, modified or refined over the years through my own experiences and by the guiding hand of my Master or other Masters. But if I had to pick one thing to be most grateful having learned as I became a Jedi, just one thing to pass on to a new generation and our new hope, well it wouldn't be anywhere near as difficult to come up with it now as it had been in my second year philosophy class.

No doubt if present to be asked now, as then, many of my peers choose learning to handle their lightsaber, or learning to harness the Force. And those teachings were and remain valuable, as they are much of what defines being a Jedi, at least in the minds of others standing outside of the Order. Our lightsabers are the most recognizable symbol of our teachings, surpassing even the use of the Force, as there are other beings, other powers such as magic or psychic abilities that mimic many of the outward examples of such an inward discipline.

Still others would undoubtedly praise the tenets of the Jedi that we were not only taught, but were expected to always observe: defense of the defenseless; serenity over passion; knowledge over ignorance; surrendering our anger, our fears, surrendering ourselves to a greater good. And like our sabers or the Force, such codes are and were useful tools, not only in being Jedi, but also as sentient beings trying to cope with a Universe that was and still is ever changing. Even when the greater good no longer cared and the defenders became defenseless, there was the code to fall back on. No reward in following the Light, other than the Light itself.

Which is quite enough, especially in face of the alternative.

But for me over the years, other teachings proved of greater importance for just a point in time. Yes, I studied diplomacy to help avoid bloodshed and senseless lose of life; practiced glibness so that I might convince another of my unimportance -- or my might. I embraced the paths of healing and encouraging growth so that I might save someone's life, or a world's. And I eventually even learned to live in the moment lest I lost sight of what was truly important, even as I sought out the future so that I could at least retain hope.

But from the very beginning of my days and to the very end, from the very core of all of those teachings and the very core of my being, it has been the rituals that saw me through every hardship and allowed me to appreciate every joy. They, as much as any teachings, were and are my and the Jedi's connections to the past and future, and to each other.

1. Reaffirmation

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan -- at least for now -- to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, knew he was lingering in the shower longer than expected, longer even than was prudent. Which was stupid and would no doubt only add to the trouble he was in already. It wasn't like postponing things would make what he had done or was now doing become blameless. Even if his Master took mercy on him and didn't add his current cowardice to his list of failings, the list was already quite long enough to ensure he wouldn't be able to sleep on his backside come the night.

Additionally by staying, Obi-Wan ran the risk of the extended embarrassment in front of his peers should Master Qui-Gon tire of waiting and come in to chivvy Obi-Wan back to their shared quarters. The other Padawans would be laughing at him, his Master would be angry with him, and the Council --

Obi-Wan didn't want to think of what the Council would be saying. Or doing. Because it wouldn't be him they would chastise or censure. To the Council, it was a Padawan's Master who was more at fault when a Padawan failed, or so it seemed, given Master Qui-Gon's residual guilt over Obi-Wan's predecessor. So he was not only hurting and embarrassing himself, but also the one person whom he never wanted to see hurt again.

That being said, he still was hiding, of course. In part from wanting to put off his pending punishment, but even more so to keep for just a little while longer from having to see the look of disappointment he knew would be on his Master's face, a look even worse than those he was now being given by his peers.

Laughter, shame, anger or condemnation; the satisfaction and hostility being shown by the others over his failure was actually easier to accept than the pity he saw in the eyes of his few friends. He thought of being hostile right back, of just alienating everyone so that he wouldn't have to face dealing with anyone, but that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, and so would accomplish nothing of value.

He might never become friends of those who had once orbited around the now deceased Bruck Chun, but Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that he would need to change their confrontational attitudes into at least neutral acceptance if not, eventually, respect. If he could manage that, then he would be less likely to be goaded into such a stupid lapse of judgment as he'd just engaged in with Aalto.

Obi-Wan knew it shouldn't have mattered to him that Aalto's hand had been extended only because of rules of sportsmanship. That the spiteful words whispered beforehand were the other boy's shame to carry, not Obi-Wan's. No, his own loss of honor had come from shunning that hand, his lack of response not only reflecting poorly on his own manners and actions, but also showing disrespect to the example his Master strove to set, and an overall dishonor to his Master's teachings.

If a Jedi couldn't get along with someone raised in the same traditions and mores, how could he later expect to interact productively with people that were not? Or with people who actively feared or despised who he was or what he represented? Here the consequences for such an action would likely be a paddling, extra chores and meditations. But in the field, such an action could result in dire consequences to peoples' very lives. Disagreement, despair, war. Death.

Oh, so many failures on so many levels, in just one little fit of anger. And a continuance of the very reasons his Master had first declined to accept him as an apprentice.

No more.

Obi-Wan ignored the tears mingling with the shower water, just as he ignored the too nearby presence of friends and non-friends alike. He was a Jedi-in-training, a Padawan, and while there would be more failures and more punishments in his future (no doubt even after he achieved the rank of Master should he be so fortunate, given the trouble his own Master seemed to get into with the High Council), he had voluntarily chosen this life and all that it meant to be a Jedi. The sacrifices, the failures. And the rewards. He had and would forever choose the Light over the Dark.

Maybe it was time to again recognize and reaffirm why.

Stepping out of the shower and quickly toweling himself off, Obi-Wan then moved with deliberation to his locker, to the tunics and leggings wadded up within. After carefully taking each item of clothing out and shaking free the wrinkles, he first folded those to be put on as he should have already done so properly in their original removal from his body. Then he began reclothing himself, reciting in silence each tenet of the code as he donned each piece of his uniform.

From this point on he would do this, perhaps not always taking the same amount of time, or showing the same reverence, but at least he would always have and remember this moment should he need it and be able to recontruct it. The code, the cloth, the commitment.

And so it was that when he was finally ready to face his Master he did so with calm, ready to accept his punishment. Ready to learn from it and move on.

2. New Shoes

Even as a child initiate, Obi-Wan had dreaded going to the shoemaker. It took too long to be fitted, and tickled unbearably. It was also way too easy to later lose track of one of the shoes, or one of the ties, causing him to be late to his lessons, or dinner, causing him to get into to trouble and have to return to the shoemaker with an apology for not caring properly for the other's work.

While the type of shoe you wear, young Kenobi, is an indication of your years, how you care for them an indication of your maturity. By losing or damaging them, you are showing disrespect to the cobbler and his skill. Is this how you wish to be known?

There was little he could answer to such question. Of course he valued the other's time and effort, but the items were just shoes. It wasn’t as if he had a say in choosing them. Nor was it the style he was allowed to wear -- or even the length of his braid -- that proved him on his way to becoming a Jedi in the first place. Clothing, indeed his appearance at all, was someone else’s concern, and in his own, only ego and arrogance. Something to be endured, or simply tradition. Surely the proof of his aging was in the performance of his katas or tests, his maturity in the level of his understanding of the Force and the Code.

"Leeto, my old friend!"

For a moment Obi-Wan felt a measure of distress as his Master allowed himself to be engulfed by the slightly grotesque being who waddled through a broken wall of smelly leather pieces and strips. He knew his concern was misplaced; the only danger Qui-Gon was in here was from being smothered or suffocated.

No, his real concern was just frustration in not only missing out on a chance to spar with Master Qui-Gon against another Master and her older Padawan, that had been canceled as soon as his Master had found out he could get an appointment with this particular shoemaker. Along with having to come along, simply to watch his Master shop. He certainly didn't need any new boots -- any new shoes of any kind. And with sparing being out, he would have then preferred to stay and work on his studies instead of wasting his time here in something so non-productive.

Obi-Wan also found himself growing embarrassed by the amount the other two were carrying on. Getting excited about the color of the hides, or how well they had cured, was actually rather nauseating given that the leather had once belonged to a living creature, and despite Obi-Wan's knowing that the animals had been initially hunted for food or out of defense for another instead of strictly for sport or … footwear. He deflected their attempts to engage him in their profusion of enjoyment, although not going quite so far as to give offense or embarrass his Master by his lack of interest. After the recent spate of receptions and treaty signings they'd been sent to by the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan had grown more adept at disguising his true feelings on any subject, both in his body language to others, and in his mental shielding from his Master.

And maybe even from himself.

With a start, Obi-Wan realized another underlying source for his current discomfort.

Jealousy.

In the three years he had been Master Qui-Gon's Padawan, he had only seen his Master this demonstratively friendly maybe twice before. And, like the restaurateur Dido and the pilot Morgan, this half Gammorian, half the Force only knew what race, this ... cobbler wasn't Jedi or even a close friend to so deserve his Master's attention.

Wasn't Master Qui-Gon's Padawan.

The trip back to the Temple grew even more uncomfortable for Obi-Wan, although he worked as hard to hide his hurt as he had his frustration. He had always known Master Qui-Gon had taken him as a Padawan out of duty, but had previously found comfort in the same sense of duty, of knowing his Master approached Obi-Wan's training with the same dedication as the elder undertook any mission. Now to find out the other wasn't always so damn stoic...

Serenity over passion and duty be damned!

Oh, Obi-Wan knew he could never expect Master Qui-Gon to be his friend, not like Reeft, Garen or Bant. Nor could he envision that type of relationship between the two of them anyway. Obi-Wan knew he needed -- and did truly appreciate -- someone who was teacher, mentor and disciplinarian. But just once it might have been nice to see that type of easy affection directed his way for something other than relief at them having survived another mission, or pride in Obi-Wan's ability to perform above expectation.

"Not that way, Padawan, at least not yet."

Obi-Wan simply blinked at the words that could not be in response to his thoughts, and allowed himself to be steered away from their quarters. Curiosity began to overtake the hurt, but Obi-Wan found his emotions quickly sliding back into embarrassment. Surely by not going back to their shared quarters before storing the boots away meant that his Master intended to show them off to someone else?

When Master Qui-Gon instead turned down the corridor leading away from the domestic levels of the temple, then gestured his Padawan through the opening into the Grove of Streams, for a moment Obi-Wan brain froze in utter confusion and he couldn't bring himself to move another step.

"Come, Obi-Wan. This won't take that long and you might even enjoy it."

Completely nonplused, Obi-Wan watched his Master meandered about no less randomly than several of the streams crossing the enclosed gardens, before promptly setting himself down along one of the muddier banks. While Obi-Wan dutifully followed in the meandering, he couldn't bring himself to sit down. And again found himself actually frozen when Master Qui-Gon buried one of the brand new boots they had just spent three hours acquiring, not quite to its top within the mud.

"There are two, Padawan," his Master waved and smiled broadly, his smile suddenly increasing in size as he added and arranged the filthy, viscous, tenaciously sticky spatters to any portion of the leather than might have initially escaped being covered. Some splashed across Obi-Wan's own boots and halfway up one of his pant legs but there was no apology, nothing but that damn smile. Indeed, Master Qui-Gon looked quite like an initiate playing at making mud pies, completely unmindful of the mess he was making of himself or the mess he had made of his Padawan. The mess he was expecting his Padawan to want to join him in making.

"Master, I -- you -- I really do need to be studying for tomorrow's stellar physics exam," Obi-Wan managed to get out, not sure if he was more mortified to hear the squeak in his voice that hadn't plagued him since becoming Master Qui-Gon's Padawan, or by the near mindless expression of joy on his Master's face.

"Are you sure, Obi-Wan? I'd --"

"Yes, Master, I am sure. I am having a bit of difficulty with visualizing the differential in the gravimetric bands and --"

"Well then, perhaps I should help you instead," Master Qui-Gon said quickly and started to tug on the boot that the mud didn't want to give up.

"Nooo, that's okay, Master, really," Obi-Wan interrupted back again just as quickly. He didn't particularly want to see the outcome of this empirical example of an intractable object and an immovable force. And especially didn't want to be anywhere within the radius of the inevitable fall out on his Master imposed his will over physics. "You just keep on … whatever it is you are doing, Master, and I'll see you around dinner time."

"Well, if you insist, Obi-Wan," and Qui-Gon let go of the boot, which disappeared back under with a disquieting sucking sound.

Obi-Wan simply nodded and backed away, barely turning in time to avoid running into Master Yoda, then not quite far enough away before hearing the odd exclamation of what sounded like pleasure when Master Yoda saw what Obi-Wan's Master was doing.

He understood little of what had happened today and resolved to meditate after his studies.

And thusly he found himself occupied less than an hour later. Although Obi-Wan had truly needed to study, it had turned out that he understood the course material far better than he had initially supposed. And so he'd also been able to take the time to remove his stained clothes and don a new set, using that action to focus on his dedication and duty, and to let go of his confusion and emotions before sinking into the restorative calm of meditation.

Obi-Wan fully expected to be asked to assist Master Qui-Gon in cleaning up his Master's new boots. He had even spent a little of his time in coming up with a short speech as to why he shouldn't have to.

Yes, seeing to his Master's clothing was part of a Padawan's duties on a mission where his Master needed be concerned over the greater good instead of every little detail. Even looking after the items were damaged or dirtied in the normal course of day-to-day happenstance was expected, and not particularly onerous, given Obi-Wan liked doing things for his Master. To be expected to clean up after someone who had willfully made the cleaning necessary, however --

Except he wasn't even asked.

Nor asked to come along the second time his Master needed boots less than a year later after a disastrous mission on icy Hoth.

It had taken several more months and many more meditations for Obi-Wan to understand that while not only conditioning the leather to insure the boots would hold up to the riggers of a Jedi's life before being called upon to do so, his Master had also been offering to include Obi-Wan in a ritual that the other had learned when a Padawan himself. The entire process had been a crucial step in increasing the closeness between then Padawan Qui-Gon and Master Yoda all those years ago.

Obi-Wan had been offered the very thing he had found himself wishing for.

And had turned it down.

3. Remembrance

Although tired enough to fall asleep standing -- indeed, he wasn't sure he hadn't already done so during the last, pretty much blank hour of the march -- Obi-Wan forced himself to sit and toe off his boots. He then carefully checked every bit of the scuffed and discolored leather with fingers, sight and Force, finding nothing untoward, fortunately. Once more Leeto’s extraordinary craftsmanship had endured, despite another eighty kilometers across barren land including crystallized ash and sharp silicates of past lava flows. His hands had fared far worse, along with his knees, despite wrapping around both, strips of what had formerly been his cloak. But his boots had held up over one more evening and dark night, and so he'd be able to continue after the day's heat cooled into something bearable, whereas so many had not.

The first evening of the march he'd been one of seventy-three, the only Jedi, but not in charge of the exodus, and not even actually responsible for assisting with their safety. He'd been on a mission, yes, but not one that should have involved anything more strenuous than finding the books that he needed up on a shelf he couldn't easily reach, or stored deep within the unorganized cellar of the frontier town's library. His Master wasn't even on the moon with him; the both of them knowing there were many better things for a Jedi Master to be doing than watching his apprentice doing field research.

That was the only good thing about this trip. While Obi-Wan would have found his Master's presence a comfort and his assistance invaluable, it was better that Master Qui-Gon had been spared the cataclysm that had befallen and disrupted the moon's very pattern within the Force. The event had proven disorienting enough to Obi-Wan that it had been several hours before awareness returned and he discovered he'd been evacuated along with the rest of the survivors. How much worse would it have been for Master Qui-Gon, with his much stronger connection to the Living Force?

Upon regaining his senses, Obi-Wan had done everything he could to help his fellow refugees. And at subsequent rest stops before the heat of the each new day made any movement impractical, he used his meager healing talents to aid those who'd been hurt in the initial evacuation, or those whose feet were now raw with blisters from hundreds of kilometers of travel that ash and other atmospheric disruptions made necessary to be conducted on foot.

After insuring the viability of his boots one more time, Obi-Wan then carefully unwrapped his knees and hands, shaking out the shards that had gotten trapped within anyway, and could have ultimately done more damage to his person than were his occasional stumbles. He spared a trickle of his rationed water to clean away the sweat and dirt that could also cause infection, preferring to use his steadily waning Force strength not on himself, but for the others who had neither his Jedi gifts or the blessings of such rigorous training that helped him endure this trek.

Even after depleting whatever reserve of Force energy he had managed to reclaim this fifth morning, Obi-Wan did not yet turn to the oblivion of sleep, as were his companions. There was yet one more task to be done. Although not his responsibility, and certainly not his fault, Obi-Wan couldn't sleep until he said words of remembrance for those needing be left behind.

Begun the night of the first time he'd ever killed someone, Obi-Wan had felt needing to remember what he'd been forced to do, yet also to remind himself death had been necessary, and that his saber had been and would continue to be only a tool.

That first time, still it had taken every ounce of fortitude he possessed to touch the weapon again.

Now he touched it not only in reverence but also practicality. Pulling apart the casing he found evidence even here of his current trials. Sliding out the silicate debris took little time, insuring everything cleared and cleaned a little more. Both were tasks that, along with testing the various components, Obi-Wan could perform with his eyes closed, however.

Or in the light meditation of remembrance.

A prayer for the dead, a prayer for the dying. Then one for the living and for the future. For Leeto, the cobbler. For his Master.

And for the love Obi-Wan felt, but had not yet properly expressed.

4. New Friends

"Obi-Wan, I will be fine. And you will be fine."

"But --"

"What is it you doubt, my Padawan? Your skill or my ability to train you to those skills? Or are you questioning my ability to look after myself? Or yours to do so, without supervision?"

There were so many things Obi-Wan could say. Not that he really doubted his ability to handle the negotiations. But being intellectually aware of ones own abilities did not mean he wanted to have to use them in such a … solitary fashion.

Unfortunately, no one could have predicted that his Master would have been exposed to a virus while they'd been home between missions that had stayed incubating well until they had left for another. Or that their mission to Celvis would leave the Jedi Master stuck on the ship in quarantine while Obi-Wan needed go to oversee the treaty negotiations.

"Surely you are not telling me you haven't done the research?" Master Qui-Gon said with the slight upraise of a brow when Obi-Wan didn't answer his early jibes.

At that question, Obi-Wan simply leveled a furrowed stare at his Master. During the second year of his apprenticeship Obi-Wan had taken over the task of learning their mission details. He no longer remembered whether doing so had been because of some form of minor punishment or simply as more training, only that he had appreciated the opportunity to more fully participate in their missions as an assistant instead of just as a student.

For a time his Master had also studied more than the brief which familiarized them both with why the Jedi were being sent, but once he was confident in Obi-Wan's ability and dedication to the full material, Master Qui-Gon had stopped bothering with the minutia. And over the subsequent two years, they had discovered it to be a completely acceptable division of duties.

His Master's strength lay in the Living Force, in reacting to the circumstances and situation. To the moment. Obi-Wan's ability, on the other hand, was more with the Unifying Force, which allowed him to see and discover the patterns within the details. One never knew which would be more important in any given mission.

"Obi-Wan." Although a patient man, Master Qui-Gon was not used to being ignored. Especially by his Padawan.

Obi-Wan made a conscious effort to relax his stance, letting his arms drop to his sides before taking a step forward toward the nest of cushions and blankets his Master had surrounded himself within. "I am bothered by all of those things," he finally admitted as he fussed with arranging anything that might bring his Master more ease.

"Well, all of the first things," he amended with a slight upturn of the corner of his mouth. "I do know the material, and am confident that I can deal with the mission as it stands." He then let his mouth drop into the beginnings of a frown. "I am even reasonably confident that I can deal with any of the likely stumbling blocks that would keep all parties from concluding the affair to the Republic's satisfaction. But if something does go wrong, it will certainly mean more time will need to be devoted to smoothing the way instead of ... instead of being here."

More time away from being here where he was needed and needed to be, although he didn't say those words and, perhaps, didn't really need to.

His Master reached out a slightly trembling hand and stilled Obi-Wan's own compulsive movements. "We will both be fine, Obi-Wan."

Said with all of the confidence of a proud parent, plus with what might have been a slight arrogance. Whether the arrogance because of his faith in his Padawan, or simply in his superior command of the Force which should have given him warning if something was going to go wrong, Obi-Wan desperately wanted to believe his Master's quiet words as truth.

And not to believe in what he thought the Force was telling him.

As Obi-Wan's own Force sense had been off since his Master had first taken ill and he knew his concern and care was valued, he also knew his Master thought the depth of his concern overstated. Which is why he was hesitant to bring it up once more.

"I will come back and check on you as often as I can," he finally said as he tucked his Master's too cold hand back under the blankets. "And I will call you if I run up against something I need your advice or help with. In that I expect the same courtesy, Master," he then added with perhaps a little more force than was generally considered prudent between Padawan and Master.

Nevertheless he didn't soften the fierceness of his gaze until he got Master Qui-Gon's nod. And he Force lifted the second communications unit and brought it close enough to be reached by a hand instead of needing the Force; his Master would have to rise to deal with his basic needs, but Obi-Wan wanted to ensure as little of that as possible, along with relieving Qui-Gon of the necessity of using the Force.

The virus wasn't usually particularly virulent, but it was tenacious; in all likelihood its physical symptoms would continuing to plague his Master well into their trip home. Additionally the virus mildly disrupted Force use, creating energy surges that could be difficult to control without another’s help, as well as ebbs that caused a continual ache.

By also moving a small, mobile cooling unit into the emptied cargo hold that his Master had taken refuge in to better indulge his long frame than was allowed for in the berthing compartment, Obi-Wan had insured Master Qui-Gon had food and drink to last several days. And he should only be gone two days at the most, even if the opportunity to return during negotiations didn't arise.

When two days abruptly turned into four, and still no end in sight of the petty squabbling that had descended upon the negotiation within the first hours of the first meeting, Obi-Wan began wishing he'd gotten ill too. Or that the decontamination procedures he'd dutifully submitted to hadn't worked, so that the delegates would succumb themselves, thus giving him an opportunity to do more than call his Master infrequently.

Not to mention that either scenario might have allowed him to get more than four hours of uninterrupted sleep at a time.

That the current failure in getting the treaty signed would not be resulting in bloodshed or war was the only reason Obi-Wan hadn't taken one of the very few opportunities he'd stolen to contact the Council instead of just his Master, and beg them send someone else. Fortunately all involved parties had at least understood the futility of violence to solve their petty disputes. Indeed, they remained remarkably friendly, not only to Obi-Wan, but to each other. It was almost as if they were enjoying the bickering --

Had one of the delegates been present in that instant of realization, Obi-Wan would have willingly smacked her, consequences be damned! As it was, he barely stopped from bashing his own head against the window he'd been taking to sitting within its frame and staring out in the vague direction of their ship in the few minutes of break time the others insisted taking every two or so hours.

These breaks were never long enough for him to go to his Master, not even really long enough to enter into some kind of centering meditation that might have at least made up for the lack of sleep, though were he more experienced either as a Jedi or in solo negotiating, no doubt Obi-Wan could have found some way to seek solace even in five minutes' time. It was, however, long enough for him to begin to see the underlying cause of the ongoing dispute.

Obi-Wan let several possible scenarios play out within his mind, judging each through perceptions honed by Jedi training without actually calling upon the Force. While he, like every other Jedi generally looked to the Force for guidance and understanding of a given situation, lately when Obi-Wan tried what some cultures called auguries, his review of likely actions and potential consequences through the Force turned more into something akin to actual flashes of the future, a sort of prescience, yet muddled and more distracting than useful. Had his Master been present to help him sort through the Force visions --

Had his Master been present, Obi-Wan's review would be for training purposes or as a second viewpoint only, instead of as the sole arbitrating judgment of the Jedi. Which, in this instance had determined his male presence in the midst of the solely female composition of the two negotiating teams had proven more interesting than the agreement they were trying to reach. Likely it would have been little different had Master Qui-Gon been present and indeed, perhaps worse. His Master's physical appeal had been proven time and time again by the offers, suggestions or out right attempts of seduction Master Qui-Gon inspired during missions and attempts to relax alike.

Certainly Obi-Wan hadn't been immune to his Master's inspiration …

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and held it until bright flashes edged out the beloved yet inappropriate image too easily called up upon dark canvas of his closed eyes. Ever since the moon of A'yin, Obi-Wan had come to realize his feelings for Qui-Gon had grown beyond that typical between father and child, or teacher and student. They were becoming partners -- shield brothers -- and as their relationship and responsibilities became more complex, so had their feelings and responsibilities to one another. At least on his side of the relationship.

They had already survived Obi-Wan's sexual awakening and his subsequent infatuation with his Master, their relationship actually emerging out of that stronger. And while he could hope the same might happen of his recent, more romantic feelings of love for Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had not been quite ready to put that hope to the test, even when he feared he would die before having the opportunity to express them.

Thus the little trick to wipe Qui-Gon's image and inspired desire from Obi-Wan's mind, and to recenter his energies and focus into something as simple as drawing in a breath to starving lungs. Drastic, perhaps, but so far as effective as a cold shower, and something he could draw upon anywhere, any time.

Which worked yet again, except this time the attempt to refocus also showed him how his feelings for Qui-Gon could be used for the mission -- to end the mission.

All he had to do was acknowledge his concern for his Master publicly. Given an emotional reason to come together, he didn't doubt the ladies would discontinue prolonging the negotiations so that he might be able to return to his beloved. Even just asking for their help would likely consolidate the nature of their attentions and show that he -- that a Jedi not always be aloof and outside the concerns of everyday life.

Then all he would have to do is misdirect his Master in why he was so convincing in his need for their assistance.

Or tell him.

5. Respect

"Disagree you do, with your Master's conclusions."

Obi-Wan didn't want to think about how Master Yoda knew. Not even Qui-Gon knew that yet. Obi-Wan wasn't even sure he could be seen in the background of the visual pick-up, though he had schooled his expression to neutrality just in case, so it couldn’t have shown in his expression that likely hadn’t even been seen -- But ignoring or lying to a Councilor was even more unthinkable than doing so to his Master. Quickly Obi-Wan found himself taking a step forward.

"Meaning no disrespect to my Master," yet Obi-Wan couldn't look Qui-Gon's way and still speak thus directly, "yes, Masters, I do disagree."

His shields were also raised and sealed tightly -- out of fear, out of embarrassment, but also so that he wouldn't be distracted or unduly influenced by his Master's own thoughts. Just as Qui-Gon had been doing against his now and for several years in their relationship. Both of them had found it a little to easy to be persuaded by the other’s emotions and had taken steps to keep that from happening.

"Soundly reasoned your Master's report was, Padawan. Logically drawn were his conclusions. Given that previously involved he has been in first contact judgments whereas you have not, why wrong do you feel he is?"

Obi-Wan's only solace was that Master Yoda often sounded accusatory when asking even simple questions. Given that the ancient one's ears were resting level -- and that the questions were not coming from one of the other members of the Council -- Obi-Wan could at least pretend that the question was purely academic instead of something that had the potential to alter his and Qui-Gon's Padawan/Master relationship.

Again.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, unmindful of how it might show his nervousness or undermine his conviction. He was nervous, but more so in how his Master might react, than how the Council would. He and Qui-Gon had been working to readjust to one another ever since Celvis, and Obi-Wan's need to speak of his more than filial feelings. He still used his trick of holding his breath, but instead of trying to distract himself from his feelings as it had been before, he reached instead for the clarity and focus such a deep level of awareness in his own body had then been granting him.

White flashes interposed themselves over the image of Master Yoda's infinite patience, as Obi-Wan now rarely closed his eyes when thusly claiming focus. He actually showed little of his effort; someone less perceptive than a Jedi would in fact only see that he had stilled with the outward appearance of Jedi serenity and thoughtfulness.

"Masters," and this time Obi-Wan managed to turn just enough that Qui-Gon might know he had been included in Obi-Wan's word of respect. "While agreeing with all of the reasons my Master has given as to how first contact with the Republic might aid the people of Liad, I am not confident the benefits will outweigh the detriments such a disruption would engender to their culture."

Obi-Wan took another deep breath, not so much to focus, or maybe it was. But it was also simply a pause to give opportunity for anyone to interrupt and send him away while those with greater experience determined what would happen to a world and its people. Yet no interruption came. And other than a near imperceptible nod of Master Yoda's head encouraging him to continue, no one else even moved.

"We have received only a scout's perception of Liad society, a scout who freely admitted that he is considered … odd for his people." Obi-Wan's words and thoughts now came freely, in conviction instead of concern for his standing. "The information that Scout Captain Daav yos'Phelium provided about his world and people was no doubt prudently censured despite the importance of personal honor and honesty to this person and his society. Or at least it was colored by his own personal situation and circumstances; few species are truly open enough themselves to accept that others would offer aid with no expectation of reciprocal favor or reward."

His gesture was meant to encompassed even those arrayed in the chamber outside of the visual monitor transmitting back from the Council, for each member within knew whereof he spoke in this. Even those species and societies well versed in knowledge and example of Jedi altruism rarely believed in it.

"Given the rigid structure of Liad's clan society along with their bias against those they perceive as non-Liadens, the varied species, governments and philosophies of the Republic would be a culture shock akin to offering member status to a pre-space flight society." Finally Obi-Wan turned the last degree to be able to take in his Master's expression, at least from the side. But could read no more from it than he could Master Yoda's.

"Yes, it is deplorable that the Liad government alters their own people genetically and psychically without receiving consent, or even making free this knowledge after the fact to those it has so wronged. But that will eventually change, as all secrets are eventually found out." Again he lifted his hand, this time in a less broadly sweeping gesture. "The same will be for the discovery that those they disdain or war against are all from the same original genetic stock, as with the fact that Liadens probably originated in one of the systems now in the Republic."

Though the gestures had actually expressed his confidence in his words, Obi-Wan now tucked his hands inside the voluminous sleeves of his robe lest the others think he spoke from emotion instead of logic.

"Any one of these reasons is valid for intervention as my Master so eloquently has proposed. Yet the fact that there are multiple reasons to intervene shows why it cannot yet happen. Exposure to the Republic now would destroy Liad society as a whole, or at least lead them to some form of extensive civil unrest. And while individuals would gain a freedom they are certainly entitled to, I think even they would come to … regret what was lost in gaining that freedom." Another deep breath for calm and clarity.

"Esteemed Masters, I would propose instead of initiating first contact with the Liad government, that the Republic -- no, that the Jedi maintain close and careful interaction with their Scouts at this time. There are enough of us with the same general characteristics of the Terrans of their acquaintance that we could watch for the inevitable changes to their society and then make the recommendation for full contact. After they are better prepared to handle this as a culture instead of as individuals."

"And what if someone else runs across one of these … Scouts?" Master Rancisis asked from the right of Master Yoda. "You suggest we keep our own secrets from the Senate, from the Chancellor, yet without even acknowledging the consequences?"

Glad that he had hidden his hands from sight as he now tightened his grip, Obi-Wan was fairly confident his sudden disquiet was not visible. Nor did he fear his Master picking this up; the most political of those on the High Council had never shown a particular like to either of them.

"From all we've been shown and observed, Liaden Scouts are expected to make the same type of initial judgments in such a situation as Jedi are, and seem to have some of the same lesser Force abilities in which to do so. And as survival, therefore, in these situations often depend on an exchange of information, no doubt we would be informed of any unpleasant contact with a third party, out of courtesy or warning. Should Liad be discovered by someone like the Hutts, we could simply make a recommendation of initiating diplomatic overtures before one of our ... contentious species take the opportunity to exploit or enslave a new world."

"Still with no thought to how the Senate would react to our withholding this information, Padawan?" Oppo Rancisis restated with more than a touch of acerbity.

Obi-Wan froze, save for a blink. It was one thing to be aware of the political machinations required to keep the Jedi funded, for all that they were supposed to be apolitical and the neutral enforcers of the Republic peace. It was quite another to be asked to comment directly on something that the Order in general ignored, or left the High Council to deal with alone. Indeed, he could feel Qui-Gon stiffen beside him, almost taste a hint of his Master's displeasure, not directed at him, but on his behalf.

On the other hand, political ramifications were a fact of existence, and certainly part of the bigger pattern every individual action helped create. If his and Qui-Gon's disagreement in this instance was as much a matter of their differences in how they perceived and interacted within the Force, Obi-Wan couldn't discount a portion of that pattern he'd championed over his Master's emphasis on the rights of the individuals just because he didn’t want to have to acknowledge it.

"Jedi are tasked with safeguarding the worlds and members of the Republic," he began carefully, taking one more step forward before his Master made motion to take the attention off of his Padawan. "Willfully withholding information from the Senate as it regards a specific mission or a member world could certainly be argued as mishandling our charter. But this situation arose out of responding to a distress beacon, not from any mission my Master and I were sent on. Therefore we acted as individuals and not members of the Republic. Or even as Jedi." He found himself raising his chin and had to stop himself lest it be deemed a direct challenge.

"It might also be argued, Masters, that our withholding of this information is on the Republic's behalf -- Liad is involved in a war with the Yxtrang, after all. It would only be prudent to study the situation more fully to insure that we consider allying ourselves with those best able to embrace our tenets and laws, instead of those initially perceived to be victims."

"Spoken like your Master's student," Mace Windu said from his position on Master Yoda's left. While the words and even the tone were almost as acerbic as Master Rancisis', the dark-skinned Master had also done nothing to hide his grudging respect for the offering. Or maybe it was simply rueful amusement in discovering that there was yet another Jedi willing to argue against the collective wisdom of the High Council.

"Go find some way to amuse yourself for the next hour or so while we further consider both of your proposals," Master Windu than instructed with a near negligent flick of his fingers. "And you might want to … assist your passenger with his rest to mitigate any further exchange of information that just might have to be taken from his memories."

"As you say, Master Windu," Qui-Gon acknowledged their dismissal. "May the Force guide your wisdom and decision," he added even as he shut down the holographic relay. Obi-Wan wasn't certain whether the last had been heard at all on the other end; certainly the connection had been cut before one of the others might have questioned whether his Master's wish had been heartfelt or simply sarcasm.

Knowing that he'd not be able to escape without having to discuss what had just happened, Obi-Wan strove to keep himself from now lowering his chin. Or his eyes. He had meant no disrespect to Qui-Gon, but certainly to be so publicly challenged by one's own Padawan was disrespectful --

"I expect they will be more than an hour," Qui-Gon offered with a snort as he turned back from the console and the screen that overlooked the battered ship without. "No doubt we'll have time to check on our guest, eat, and finish the repairs on his ship, although I suppose the last is also something we should wait on until they do make a decision. If it is decided that we need to take his memories of our presence, he would have a hard time explaining how his holed ship came to be fixed. And I do not intend to put him back in such danger by holing it again."

"M-master?" Obi-Wan felt almost as disconcerted by Qui-Gon's words and manner as he had from Master Rancisis.

With just a step Qui-Gon was looming over him, but the expression directed downward more mirrored Master Windu's than it did the former ruler of Thisspias.

"It's of little consequence, Padawan," he said with a wry twist of his lips. "No matter what is decided, I doubt we personally will be allowed further involvement. Our objectivity is compromised by our obvious concern for Scout Captain yos'Phelium and his people."

"I … I understand that, Master. But shouldn't we -- aren't you going to --"

"What, chastise you for pointing out Master Rancisis' folly in concerning himself with politics instead of people?" Qui-Gon raised his brow then his hand to place a strong hold on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You certainly handled him with more grace than I had planned to. Indeed, had you not spoken when you did, I might have set up our guest for more than just a memory blurring, not to mention what type of missions we might have then been sent on in punishment for my lack of tact. No doubt, everyone's continued health is owed to you."

Obi-Wan found himself wanting to sit down, or at least lean against one of the seats they had not taken, out of respect for their need to petition the Council for an opinion. But Qui-Gon's reaction and touch was also bracing, even if he was still expecting Qui-Gon to be upset with him.

"Then you are not bothered that I contradicted your conclusion? I mean, I know you encourage me to give my own opinions, but that's in private, and …" Obi-Wan shrugged under his Master's tightening grip and finally dropped his eyes from that too open regard.

"Of course not, Obi-Wan," came immediately, and the hand left his shoulder to touch his cheek.

As Obi-Wan again met his Master's gaze, he watched a full and genuine smile overtake the other.

"Would you have offered your opinion even if Master Yoda hadn't asked it of you?" was asked solemnly, however.

Obi-Wan took a few seconds to really consider before he nodded his head. "Yes, Master. Something had been bothering me, but I hadn't yet fully realized my objections until you finished your arguments in favor of first contact. Of course, I would have preferred to have been able to bring it up to you instead of to the Council, but …" He shrugged again. "You know I was challenging only your conclusions, not you, yourself."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to nod. "As did Master Yoda if you recall," he said with something akin to pride. "This is grounds for celebration, my Padawan, not censure. Especially when you handled your grilling with such aplomb. We both gave well-stated cases based on logic and our perceptions. If there was only one right answer in situations like this, it wouldn't be Jedi making the decisions."

Obi-Wan let out the last of his tension and unconsciously leaned into the hand Qui-Gon still had against his jaw, though he thought to pull away once he became aware of what he had done. Once again he let out a breath without drawing another one in, then needed drawn one instantly when Qui-Gon brought up his other hand to cup him with both.

"Do you really need to do that, Obi-Wan?" he was asked gently.

"You kn-now?" he stuttered.

The smile was gentled too. "You do manage to look convincingly serene, my Padawan, but even shielded there is still a jarring suddenness in the masking of your emotions. Once I determined you weren't going to pass out before letting yourself breathe again, I found no reason to make you self conscious about it, and it is obvious that your focus and centering is greatly improved after this little trick. So my only concern is that you seem to do this most often when to hide yourself from me. Do you really need to?" Qui-Gon asked again.

Obi-Wan shook his head, still careful, however, not to get too caught up in what his body was insisting to be a caress. "Need, no, but --" And he couldn't stop another deep breath. "You know how I feel about you."

Not even stated as a question, still Qui-Gon nodded in answer. "And you know that I feel the same?"

This, this was a question. The question.

Obi-Wan had made his painful confession of love while Qui-Gon had been recovering from a nasty virus. And although Qui-Gon had then assured his Padawan his love was reciprocated, Obi-Wan had never been sure if the words had been merely to allay his stress over Qui-Gon's illness and the mission Obi-Wan had been forced to complete with little assistance, or even simply a fevered, automatic response. Certainly he knew his Master would never have consciously lied just to make him feel better, not about something this important. But as they had never discussed it further in the subsequent months --

"Obi-Wan?" The hands that cupped his face were definitely caressing, soothing. As were those remarkably blue eyes staring down at him.

"I guess I was afraid to believe, Master," he said in a near whisper, then cleared his throat and offered more. "It is all to easy to will away my emotions instead of dealing with them."

Qui-Gon leaned even more forward. "Even now, my Padawan?"

He was suddenly holding his breath again, was hyper aware that the air he held within his own body had come from Qui-Gon. And that his heart and body now pulsed in tandem with Qui-Gon's. How could he not believe in that guileless blue he could lose himself within for an eternity? Or the solidness of the fingers that had always soothed his hurts and fears, and now sought to offer and soothe something more.

"How about you leave your breathing ritual only to focus and center, Obi-Wan? Or would it be better that I make up something similar for myself, that we might know each other's concerns without expressing them?"

Obi-Wan turned so that he could touch his lips and nuzzle the callused palm, not sure how to answer. His Master hadn’t been mocking, not really, but nor could he tell if Qui-Gon had been serious. Or was seriously bothered by Obi-Wan’s use of the technique.

"Mine could start upon awakening with you at my side each morning," Qui-Gon then continued and gave Obi-Wan all of his answers.

He instantly pressed a kiss, this time also tasting all that was being offered, and then nodded shyly as if he truly needed to give permission for being given his heart's desire. And again Qui-Gon's stentorian voice rolled over him in comfort. And consideration for something else entirely.

"My first sight would then be of you, as yours would be the first taste crossing my lips."

Obi-Wan used tongue and teeth this time, not just tasting but marking, feeling, learning. Believing and accepting what he was being told at last.

"And you, Obi-Wan? Will you remark upon this change in our lives with a new ritual?" was whispered into his ear and neck before Qui-Gon's lips began taking their own measure.

While a small part of Obi-Wan regretted that he could have had this earlier had he but believed -- in Qui-Gon -- in himself -- he also understood why Qui-Gon had not just told him outright of his returned love before this moment. As he had just now stood before the Council and become recognized in opposition to his Master, so too he needed to recognize himself such independence before their relationship could have taken this next step. Qui-Gon Jinn would no more be interested in becoming intimately involved with someone not willing to be an equal partner, than Obi-Wan Kenobi was willing to enter into one as a subordinate.

Which made the nature of his new ritual almost foregone. Lifting away from the hands so that he could now see as well as taste directly, Obi-Wan also reached up and began to remove the leather that bound his Padawan braid. In this they would no longer be Master and Padawan, so what better than to soften the most visible symbol of that relationship?

6. New Clothes

"Ah, Master, how was Padawan translated to the Wyflians?"

Obi-Wan's voice broke but, frankly, he had other things to worry about than how young he suddenly sounded. It wasn't the single bed accommodations they had been given that was so troublesome; such was common given how often Jedi advisors were the last folks to be concerned about placating in the face of a dispute significant enough to involve them in the first place. Even those societies that didn't misunderstand the Jedi to be primarily a religious order often expected he and his Master to be aesthetics, given how plainly all Jedi dressed and the Order's refusal to accept payment for their aid.

And certainly one bed was more appropriate given the major change in their relationship seven months ago when they had become lovers. It was certainly better than the times past when Obi-Wan had been assumed to be a child and had been allocated a bed too small for even his short height. This single bed, however, while gratefully large enough for two of Qui-Gon's size, also came with … accessories.

"I would imagine, rather than misunderstanding the word Padawan, our hosts have placed too broad an interpretation of the word master."

Qui-Gon's own voice was a curious mix of shock and interest, the low burr of his native accent strong enough to send chills across Obi-Wan's skin. Or maybe it was just the easy way his Master began handling the various bits of leather, chain and instruments more aptly found in an interrogation setting than a bedroom.

Several of the items were actually attached to the bed frame; two sets of cuffs and a couple of electronic devices, but the rest had been artfully arranged across the shiny sheets, with little left to the imagination of their intended use. There were also clothes, necessary as the colors of their Jedi garb actually offended the sensibilities of those they were expecting to meet with come the morning. But those by size that should be for Obi-Wan to wear at that meeting were just as -- and perhaps even more -- disturbing than the items left undoubtedly for their private use.

"Master, I can't -- you can't expect -- I am not wearing any of that!"

"What is it about the items that distresses you so, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon cleared away enough space in the center of the bed that he could sit surrounded, and held his hand out for Obi-Wan to join him.

Who did so very reluctantly, even when Qui-Gon pulled him in between his legs and try to coax him to relax enough to lean back against his Master's chest.

"Is it that you are concerned with how you might look in any of this, or is it because you are unsure of what all of them are used for?"

Obi-Wan stiffened. "How about both of the above, plus being concerned with not being taken seriously."

Even by you, though he did not say the last out loud.

"My Master though you may be, I am not some sort of pleasure slave!"

Which might have been more effective had Obi-Wan not found himself becoming aroused by Qui-Gon's attempt to relax him, instead of calming down.

Qui-Gon stopped kneading the muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulders and back, and instead dropped his arms down around Obi-Wan's chest to pull them together in a hug with his bearded chin resting now over Obi-Wan's shoulder. "The only humans present tomorrow outside of ourselves are three of the seven religious observers offered by the Senate. None of the others are even remotely humanoid, and so I doubt would know a human pleasure slave from a gundark. And as our hosts wear little more than a harness around their wings, and a belt to carry their tools, you could look at what they have offered for you as an effort on their part to have you fit in instead of standing out."

"Then why don't they have these things in your size?"

He knew he sounded petulant, which was just as damning to his purpose and resolve, as was his still, only half-controlled arousal. How could he take himself seriously when even the slightest touch from his Master enflamed him?

"Because none of their species reach my size?" was offered with gentle humor. Qui-Gon then Force lifted the large rectangle of cloth that might more suit as a tent than clothing. No doubt his clothing for the following day.

"Having seen that they needed to clothe us upon our arrival, obviously this was the best they could do in the time allotted,” he said of the wild profusion of reds, golds and turquoise. Certainly the effort to assemble something for me so intricately tooled and filigree as that offered you would delay the ceremony for days."

Qui-Gon was right in at least that. Although he had never seen leather naturally coming in the jewelled blues and greens before him, the true artistry lay in the inlays of silver shot throughout the leather. While to his eyes the pattern was abstract, there was something almost recognizable within, something more seen from the corner of his eye, or though the Force.

Nor could he deny how such design might look pleasing to the eye. Even had their link not been so open because of their position next to one another, Qui-Gon's own heightened interest was unmistakable as he traced his fingers around one of the patterned whorls. Which might have been enough for Obi-Wan to consider relenting to wearing the belt and harness in private, but he still could not imagine being seen thusly by someone else.

"Qui-Gon, I don't think I can do this."

The words were almost impossible to say, the realization even harder to accept. Of course Obi-Wan had previously failed in his duty during a mission; Jedi he might be, but not even Master Yoda was perfect. On the other hand, he had never before outright refused his part in a mission.

When he'd been younger, pride and insecurity warred within him, yet also insured his obedience to the point that he had never questioned his tasks or responsibility after Melinda/Daan. As Obi-Wan grew older, as Qui-Gon had begun not only to ask but to value his opinion, there had certainly been times his duty parameters had changed from the Council's initial assessment. Given his Master's own propensity to modify the profile of a mission based on evaluating the needs of those they were aiding, no doubt it would have been more worrisome had Obi-Wan not occasionally challenged his own involvement.

"Would it help if we exchanged roles during the ritual? "

As often as Obi-Wan had thought he could handle such a circumstance in missions past, taking the lead in this situation with Qui-Gon's only purpose in support for him, was not any more appealing. Might even be worse, in fact.

He shook his head. "I …" but he couldn't explain what he wanted.

Very gently Qui-Gon directed Obi-Wan to turn so that they were now facing one another. When Obi-Wan would have pulled his knees up and adopted a defensive posture, Qui-Gon instead brought his own legs together and encouraged Obi-Wan onto his lap so that they might be able to wrap around each other.

"What is this really about, Padawan? We have needed to wear less before in the performance of our duties."

Obi-Wan ducked his head, avoiding the concern in Qui-Gon's expression though it was just as obvious through their link. "I suppose that's part of it," he said very softly. "Then it was we. And it was before …"

"Before?"

Obi-Wan didn't resist as Qui-Gon maneuvered so he could tilt Obi-Wan 's head up.

"Before we became lovers, you mean?"

Obi-Wan nodded. It hadn't been so much the concern he was trying to avoid, but the confusion, the not quite contained flash of distress and surprise in Qui-Gon’s eyes. And the hurt. The problem was, he was feeling all those things himself, along with even greater confusion. And he wasn't exactly sure why.

"Do you regret -- have I overstepped my --"

"No!" Obi-Wan said quickly, and brought up his own hand to touch Qui-Gon's face, to stroke along that wonderful, crooked nose before cupping his hand along the beard that covered his Master's jaw. "I don't know if I can explain it to you, since I'm not sure what the problem is myself. It's just …" He paused and took a deep breath for clarity, to which Qui-Gon offered him a gentle, indulgent smile.

"All my life I have had to fight to be where I am now. First it was against the training Masters with their concerns over my emotions, my anger. Then against you to accept me as your Padawan, and the Council after Melinda/Daan. And you again because I had betrayed your trust --" He brought his hand around to stop the words of denial Qui-Gon would have offered.

"I know that all along I was really just as much fighting against my self, and that acknowledging that helped me earn your trust and affection. And believe me, every fight was worth it. But when I also had to fight for our relationship, not only against the Council, but you yet again, to learn that you all still had doubts about my commitment to the Jedi --"

This time Qui-Gon wouldn't stay silent. "I have never doubted your commitment to the Jedi. Yes," he hurried on, it being his turn to silence a protest with gentle fingers, "yes, maybe I did and still do express some concerns regarding the path you are taking, but I -- and the Council -- know you will become an extraordinary Knight, my Obi-Wan. If you still doubt that yourself, then I have been remiss --"

"That's part of the problem, Qui-Gon. I have never doubted I would make a good Jedi. Even as an initiate I have known -- I could see -- the good I would eventually be involved in bringing about. All I needed was a chance to convince all of you of that."

Of course it was that knowledge along with the frustration of having so many obstacles placed in the way, that had for so long driven Obi-Wan from actively developing his Force talent of prescience. Being shown by the Force when he'd been but a child what his future should have been, well, even now, when it appeared that only the mundane obstacles of life seemed to be left, he too often shied away from trying to know more.

Obi-Wan couldn't put all of these thoughts and feelings into words, in part because they weren't especially appropriate behavior for a Jedi and might sound like he was angry or arrogant, maybe even ungrateful and unappreciative. Even knowing he was meant to be a Jedi had never meant he could do so alone, or that he would have wanted to. That he hadn't become a stronger person because of the obstacles all along.

For a moment the image of a woman surfaced from Obi-Wan's memories.

He'd gone to Jedi Knight Tahl in the first days after Melinda/Daan and the horror his life had become; his conditional return to the Jedi but not as his Master's Padawan. Being on probation and judged by the High Council, then becoming involved in the intrigue that had resulted in a fellow Padawan's death, he'd been wallowing in guilt, and more than feeling a little sorry for himself.

But he was also having terrifying nightmares, constantly reliving Cerisa's dying in his arms on Melinda/Daan. Only sometimes it was not the young woman he -- in another life -- might have grown to love. Sometimes it was Bruck or Master Yoda who had been a target of the Dark Jedi who had led Bruck astray. Sometimes it was even Tahl herself, as Obi-Wan's decision to stay on Melinda/Daan had come close to causing Tahl's death and he'd not yet really dealt with that guilt.

Then the visions turn to being his Master dying in his arms.

Since at that time he and Qui-Gon had still been estranged over his leaving the order to fight for cause he believed in, Obi-Wan had no one else he felt he could turn to but Knight Tahl. She had stood up for him against the Council, against his own Master, even though she herself was just coming to terms with injuries sustained on Melinda/Daan that had left her blind.

If a Jedi truly believes in and follows the way and will of the Force, then that Jedi must also have faith that the Force never asks for more than they can give.

"Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon's gentle prodding brought Obi-Wan back to the present, and his present dilemma. "Somehow, seeing all of these … clothes and toys has brought up a lot of not quite so dealt with insecurities, Master," he finally offered with the smallest of smiles. "I not only misread our hosts intentions, but resented them. And you, because you found the whole thing amusing."

"You thought I was laughing at you instead of the situation?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "We have both been working so hard at being equals as lovers, yet your reactions to this inequity," and he gestured widely with the hand still not resting alongside Qui-Gon's jaw, "your amusement and excitement to what I perceived as a slight aimed at me, well, all I could think was that you were somehow agreeing, that somehow the change in our relationship had been wrong, or temporary, or --"

"Oh, Obi-Wan --"

"No, it's okay, Master. Qui-Gon." He brought up the hand he'd been gesturing with and cradled his Master's face between both sets of fingers before leaning in for the softest of kisses. "We've been trying too hard instead of just acting to our natures. Which, I think, has led us to the very difficulties we were trying to prevent. You are my teacher, my mentor, my Master, and that will not change just because I get a little older and eventually pass my trials. I know you feared taking advantage of your authority over me should we become lovers, but you never have in any other aspect of our lives, nor have I always deferred to your wishes anyway. Nor even to your orders as you must admit. I think I forgot that there might have been purpose to my defiance beyond showing me how precious our being together in any form has been."

Obi-Wan let himself lean back into the hand that drifted up to touch his braid then cup the back of his neck, his eyes even closing for a moment in the sheer comfort those touches brought him.

"So if that was not your fear, why all the upset?" Qui-Gon prompted, his voice as gentle as his caresses. And not at all judgmental.

"I think it was just after Telos that I knew where I stood in your heart, even if it took me much longer to convince you of that," he reopened his eyes with a chuckle and brought their foreheads together. "Unfortunately that confidence has never helped me deal with how others look at us. For a long time I have feared the Council was convinced our re-pairing after Melinda/Daan was a mistake. It's certainly part of what held me back from telling you how much I loved you. And once I finally did, once we did become lovers, I guess I still feared that somehow the Council, if not the Senate, would use it against us. That somehow our relationship would get in the way of our being Jedi. I've been afraid that somehow, one day we will be forced to choose, and this mission --"

Shrugging, Obi-Wan stole a taste of the lips beneath his. "This one, or the next, always the next …" He chuckled again, not trying to make light of this self-discovery, but of his reaction to it. "I got so tangled up in our feelings and our fears that I forgot to listen to the Force."

By the catch in Qui-Gon's breath and the spike in his emotions over their link, Obi-Wan realized he hadn't been alone in this. Of course not. Had Qui-Gon not been ignoring the Force as much as Obi-Wan had regarding their evolving relationship, they would have come to this epiphany -- or crisis -- much sooner. Or never needed it in the first place.

"Shame on you, Master," he chided with growing laughter. "For one who professes to live in the moment and follow the will of the Force even in defiance of the Council, you have quite a blindness to your own place within it."

"No worse than your refusal to acknowledge the seamlessness of our joined pattern, my Padawan." Qui-Gon's own tone held only light, without a hint recrimination. "We have yet again become our own worst enemy, a failing perhaps joint meditation could address."

And before Obi-Wan could respond, Qui-Gon was suddenly twisting them both until his Master lay supine amongst the items that had triggered everything, then pulling Obi-Wan tightly into his embrace and kisses while fingering the ties off of Obi-Wan's braid.

"I don't think the training Masters would approve of your meditative form or substance, Master," Obi-Wan laughed and pulled back just enough so he could catch the breath Qui-Gon kept trying to steal away.

"The forms of joint meditation are meant to be adaptive, my love, and always work better when allowing for the personalities and relationship of those involved, or so a Padawan -- and the Force -- has just taken delight in pointing out to me."

Pleasure lit Qui-Gon's eyes though they had darkened near to deep indigo from his growing desire. When Obi-Wan still maintained a small distance between them, bracing himself away with what he hoped was a stern, or maybe contemplative expression, his Master simply growled and used his greater strength and command of the Force to sweep them around even further until it was Obi-Wan's back against the sheets. He found his entire body engulfed by his Master's, with no opportunity to resist.

Nor any desire to resist.

Not even when Qui-Gon swept Obi-Wan's arms up above his head so that they both could feel the intriguing blend of leather, fur and metal from one of the cuffs.

"If you're concerned with not being able to keep still during our meditation …"

A thrill shot through Obi-Wan's body, straight to his cock, which Qui-Gon was rhythmically grinding against with his own. The thrill also spiked across his thoughts and sparked his imagination, bringing up long forgotten fantasies and buried desires.

Obi-Wan knew he would never prefer to be restrained over other forms of their lovemaking, yet he could suddenly see how this could be used -- yes, adapted -- for those times when one or both of them got too caught up in trying to be what the other expected instead of just being themselves. Or refused to listen to the Force. Today it would be a form of punishment, as he was already aching to touch his Master absolutely everywhere, but like all effective punishments, it would be done only out of love to correct an error in judgment.

Nor, he had to admit to himself, would it be without its own pleasure, even were that pleasure only in indulging his lover in something that very obviously excited him. For that, Obi-Wan would endure almost anything, just as would Qui-Gon for him he now knew -- or knew again.

Even unto occasionally ceding Obi-Wan control in a reverse of their current situation.

He licked his lips and gave Qui-Gon a nod, allowing all of his love and trust to shine through his eyes and his thoughts. But even amidst such heady emotions, he couldn't help but also let forth a burst of humor.

Cuffs and a cock ring would certainly be a damn sight more interesting tool of correction than Master Yoda's gimer stick!

7. Release

"No!" the youth screamed, not only throwing the wooden training bokken, but throwing it at Obi-Wan. And using quite a bit of his formidable strength in the Force to do so. Anakin Skywalker had little control of strength or Force, however, so Obi-Wan simply sidestepped the missile instead of using his own Force abilities against the youth who was to be his Padawan.

When the wooden blade jerked back up and again headed his direction, Obi-Wan let a little of his own emotions loose. "Enough, Anakin!" he snapped, and wrested control of the bokken away from the boy, pulling it into his own hand. "Until you show regard to the care of things you have borrowed, those things will be denied you. Now return to your room until I come get you."

Obi-Wan purposefully didn't mention Anakin's major transgressions, his loss of temper or his direct attack against another Jedi. Were the boy anyone else, the first would have earned Anakin a series of demerits and long sessions of meditation. And the second -- the second was grounds for complete dismissal, though likely Obi-Wan could have counseled for probation instead, were the boy's actions to come under scrutiny and censure. After all, what had been good for the Master when a Padawan himself, should now be good for the new Padawan …

But Anakin wasn't really yet a Padawan, and would never be a normal one, even if they made it to Anakin's vows. Nor was Obi-Wan really any kind of Master; a real Master would have been able to anticipate Anakin's frustration before the boy gave into his anger and fear.

Actually, a real Master wouldn't have even suggested that the two of them be here in the training room. It was much too soon to be thinking about any sort of weapons training.

On the other hand, everything had been so different and frightening to Anakin upon his arrival at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan had had little to offer the boy by way of entertainment or even comfort. Their first day upon their arrival from Naboo had been spent moving into new quarters, showing the boy where the various rooms and stores could be found, then taking him to one of the ship hangers.

There Anakin immediately immerse himself within the familiarity of parts and schematics, actually assisting a couple of the mechanics in some of the basic maintenance work and simple repairs. Anything to help Anakin from dwelling on leaving his home and mother. Or on the number of people who had died indirectly by Anakin's hand, although the boy had killed only in defense of so many others.

Anything to keep Anakin from dwelling on how many promises to him -- how many dreams -- had already been broken because of one particular death.

That neither of them had yet talked about.

But then Obi-Wan was hiding from that too, along with his responsibilities. And so it had been easier on the second day to let Anakin be impressed and distracted by watching several of the sparing sessions constantly underway in the Temple's training salles, then acquiescing when the boy asked to learn a little of what he'd been watching.

Even for normal Padawans, weapons training took place only after years of study and grounding, after beginning to learn of one's place in the Force. Anakin had none of that knowledge or understanding, not really even the understanding that Jedi only fought to protect, that all of their training was for that end and not a source of excitement or pleasure save for the recognition of gaining skills to defend.

The boy most certainly did not want to hear that it would be years before he'd be crafting his own lightsaber and likely months before he'd even pick up one of the training sabers. Or that he would need to strengthen his body and learn the basic forms before getting an opportunity to even spar with wooden weapons.

Had Obi-Wan been a real Jedi Master, he wouldn't have let his own exasperation take control when the boy complained, the complaints then turning into ranting and a refusal to try anymore katas until Obi-Wan let Anakin spar against him. Certainly his own Master would never have given into such emotional blackmail -- or maybe it was just giving into his own pettiness when the boy quickly found himself disarmed, and on his back, then his knees, being shown with every opportunity what happened when refusing to learn the forms.

"All you want to do is train me to work for you instead of teaching me what I want to learn!" Anakin was now hissing as he lifted his head in defiance yet again of Obi-Wan's instructions. "You are no different than any of my other Masters."

Obi-Wan stiffened, his own harsh words dying unsaid. They had only spent five days together, and already Anakin knew how to flay Obi-Wan to the bone.

"Anakin …" but not even taking a deep breath could center him now, only hurt almost worse than Anakin's words had. The breath -- everything reminded him of what he had lost, no more so than the boy.

"Anakin, this is only about what you want," he tried again. "Unless maybe you feel … maybe you don't really want to become a Jedi --"

"I knew it! I knew you didn't want me! You will never be my Master, never be Master Qui-Gon --"

Anakin stopped, abruptly, though whether he actually saw the pain Obi-Wan could not keep from his face or simply because of Anakin's own sudden heartache for the one who could no longer look after either of them, Obi-Wan had no idea. The trouble was, that although Anakin's latest tirade was bitter salt to his already raw emotions, the boy was also right. Obi-Wan hadn't wanted the responsibility for Anakin -- hadn't even trust the boy in the beginning, and had seen only darkness in the future of training the boy. He most certainly would never be able to be the type of Master Qui-Gon would have been for the boy.

In truth, he was no type of Master at all. His knighthood had been conferred in haste, a result of his having survived the Sith that had killed his Master. Then accepting a Padawan -- Anakin -- to answer his Master's dying wish. Oh how he would have given everything for just one of those things not to have been true.

He hadn't even had the opportunity to grieve. Seven days ago had seen the battle and Qui-Gon's fall. The following day had been spent assisting with the restoration of war-torn Naboo, awaiting the High Council's arrival, and preparing for Qui-Gon's funeral. Then the celebration, looking out after Anakin, and the trip home. Only to have to move them both into new quarters and look to get Anakin settled. And be called before the Council, the Senate, the Healers -- going over and over again what had happened on Naboo. He hadn't yet set foot back into his and Qui-Gon's quarters, hadn't gathered any of his own things, nor packed up his Master's. His lover's.

The other half of his soul.

"Knight Kenobi! Control yourself and your Padawan!"

Obi-Wan was moving without conscious thought at Master Eeth Koth's reprimand, knowing all to well what would happen next. A heartbeat, a breath, and all sense of the Force cut off in the salle as the horned Councilor turned on the shield generator, completely unmindful of how the sudden absence of the patterns of life that was forever the underlying sense of the Force to one sensitive might feel. But Obi-Wan ignored the sudden throbbing in his own head and was there when Anakin cried out and collapsed, at least able to cushion the boy's fall even if he couldn't stop it.

"Have care, Knight Kenobi," the Councilor cautioned harshly before Obi-Wan could do anything but growl his displeasure and disgust at the other Jedi. "You were told that if you couldn't control Anakin, we would."

It would be so easy to let all of his anger spill out; had it been someone other than Master Koth, Obi-Wan might have even suspected the other was challenging him thusly in order to give Obi-Wan the outlet that even the Healers had been encouraging he find.

"Was there something I could assist you with, Master Koth?" he ground out instead.

It didn't help that the Master was Ikotchian, probably a variation of the same race as the Sith who had slain his Master. Nor that he needed struggle to gather Anakin up into his arms.

One of these days real soon he would need to go to the Healers and have his shoulder looked at, since any attempt at self healing since his fall from the catwalk, then down and barely catching himself on a protrusion in the melting pit on Naboo, was doing little to eliminate the torn muscles and deep bruising he had sustained in that battle. But as the injury just slowed him down, hadn't been enough to keep him from his duties, in this too, Obi-Wan managed, cradling Anakin to his chest as he rose with the boy and started forward to take him out of the shielded room.

"Or have I your leave to see to my Padawan's well being?"

Master's Koth's expression was flat and emotionless. "If I thought that was what you were capable of doing, Knight Kenobi, I wouldn't be here in the first place. But from what I overheard --"

Obi-Wan was getting real tired of having change of status thrown in his face, since it certainly no longer had the meaning it should have with Qui-Gon not present to share it with him. Nor was it, by the other's tone, something to be proud of anyway.

"Yes, well, Master Koth, you and the rest of the Council gave up any rights over Anakin when you denied his rights in Chamber," he snarled right back. "The only one who can take Anakin away from me is Anakin himself," he continued with no concern for making threats -- or enemies -- at this point. "And as for what you overheard, if that is what Anakin truly wants, I will be the first to see he gets back to Naboo, Tatooine or anyplace else the boy asks!"

"That would solve most of your problems, wouldn't it, Kenobi? Rid yourself of the boy and the responsibility. But only after convincing yourself it was the boy's wishes and not your own. Never mind that in even thinking about it you do your Master dishonor. But oh, that's right," the Councilor continued with nary a change in expression or tone, just his damning, emotionless accusations.

"You already did your Master dishonor with regard to the boy. I'm sure you never expected it to get so far out of hand, but haven't you yet figured out why you moved so slowly in trying to catch up to the fight? A little payback, perhaps, for how your Master -- your callous lover -- treated you in the Council chambers, casting you aside for someone else? What, did you figure he would take you back after he got hurt and you saved him? Only you weren't fast enough -- good enough to save him, were you, Knight Kenobi?"

With only the barest thought to use the Force to slow the boy down as he let him drop, Obi-Wan turned all of the rest of his attention -- and the Force -- against the other. Red washed across his vision, anger this time tinting what before had been veiled by security fields. The redness, the horns, the mocking, all beating against his vision and his mental shields --

Although a part of Obi-Wan knew he wasn't back on Naboo, that the Zabrakian in front of him was one he had respected if not yet claimed as friend, he was so tempted to give into the anger that he had foregone against the Sith. Oh, he had felt the anger then, felt maybe even hate for the one who would be able to eventually claim killing them both as he had destroyed Obi-Wan's soul.

But Obi-Wan had still been tied to Qui-Gon then, through their bond and through a lifetime of being together. And although he had harnessed his fear and anger and hate in order to fight the Sith, he had never let them loose. Not even to end the battle quickly enough to maybe get to Qui-Gon in time to save him.

To loose control would have been to call upon the Darkness that had permeated the room and their foe. Obi-Wan might have ended the battle earlier, but he never could have healed his Master with that Darkness. Nor could he have even gone to him, been with him as he died and offered what little comfort that he could. Not if he had succumbed to the Darkness.

But now Qui-Gon was gone, into the Force but out of Obi-Wan's life, and it would be so easy to just let the Darkness take him. He truly didn't care about the boy. No longer cared about becoming a Knight, and --

And he would lose everything important to him were he to do so.

All of his life he had been taught to let go the emotions that otherwise could control his actions, to resist the Dark and to believe in the Force. And although the Dark was also a part of the Force, it was not a part he followed, was certainly not the part he would one day again find Qui-Gon within. To give into the Dark now was to renounce his life and his love.

"Noooo!" The word was torn from his throat now as it had been on Naboo. And once again Obi-Wan turned from the abyss within his mind, still screaming, grieving, but not lost and damned forever.

The screams within and without brought him out of his trance. Or perhaps it was simply because the induced vision was now over that Obi-Wan once again grew aware of his surroundings. He knew he should be embarrassed to find that he was lying in Master Windu's lap, or that Master Yoda was rubbing his temples and crooning something in a language as long dead as was the ancient ones' homeworld. Instead, their closeness and caring actually brought Obi-Wan comfort; even Master Koon's brisk rubbing of his leaden arms and fingers only now coming back to life with an ache that echoed the one in his head. And the ache in his heart, as it should have been Qui-Gon, would only have needed to be Qui-Gon, to soothe him through the last of his trials.

"Confer Knighthood upon you the Council will," Master Yoda's words were suddenly understandable. "Know your lose it cannot replace, but proud you should be, as no finer tribute to Qui-Gon's teachings will there be than Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi."

This time when Obi-Wan took a deep breath for control, he could find a small measure of calm and most of his composure. He offered a nod to the three Councilors who had stood vigil in his own Master's place, and slowly made to rise. Touches by Masters Windu and Koon expressed more than any offered words could, then the two left him alone with his Master's Master.

Although Obi-Wan moved with no more fluidity than Master Yoda's ancient bones could manage, he managed to reach the side of the room where he then dried the sweat from his face with a napkin set by a pitcher. He pour a glass of the water, drinking it slowly and as it soothed the roughness in his throat, he let Master Yoda's connections to him and the Force soothe his battered feelings. At last ready to face the ancient one, Obi-Wan still took a minute to straighten his tunics and belts, to once more put on the cloak that someone had thought to collect from the hanger where he and Qui-Gon had discarded them before the battle.

Serenity over passion.

Knowledge over ignorance.

Defense over aggression.

For ... Force over D-death.

One last deep breath and then he turned and lowered himself to one knee before bowing before Master Yoda.

"And the boy?"

"Trained to be a Jedi he will. But agree with the Council's decision I do not!"

Obi-Wan offered a smile, knowing the other wouldn't call him on its brittleness. Knowing he wasn't the only one feeling Qui-Gon's loss so keenly.

"How do you bear it, Master Yoda?" he asked at last, asked the question that every Jedi from initiate to Master had at least one time thought about or dwelled upon. As the oldest living Jedi -- as one of the oldest living beings within the entire Republic -- Master Yoda had seen more death than any general or healer. And so much of it coming to compatriots, to friends or family instead of just faceless, nameless victims that plagued most other sentients.

"How can I not?" the old one said gruffly, but from understanding and not anger. "Outlive you all, sometimes I think will I do."

A fear Obi-Wan sometimes held himself, when first waking from his main, reoccurring nightmare over the years. But as horrible as that abstract loss had always felt, it was nothing compared to this most personal loss. More than giving into the Darkness, during both his physical trial as the Council had judged his battle with the Sith to be, and with the mental trial of Knighthood, Obi-Wan had just wanted to give into the Force and join Qui-Gon in death.

"There is no death --"

Obi-Wan snapped his head up, his expression stopping Master Yoda's words. A platitude and one he knew he would be hearing over and over in the days to come as others learned of Qui-Gon's death and strove to help him deal with it as they tried to deal with it themselves. Certainly not something Obi-Wan wanted to hear now of all times, or ever from his Master's Master.

Yes, he knew, and sometimes even could believe, but --

"Once believe it here," Master Yoda said with a strong push to the top of Obi-Wan's head with his clawed hand, "feel it here you will." Another push against his chest, against his heart. "In time speak to you the Living Force will, with the voice of Qui-Gon. Who are we to say his voice it is not?"

Obi-Wan let loose a little exhalation of breath that was part sob and part laughter.

"Talk to him back you should," Master Yoda went on, muttering more to himself now as he was wont to do when in his own rooms and, therefore, simply Yoda and not a member of the Council, not even a Jedi Master. "Talk to his mother too, should your Padawan. Letters, recordings, a journal perhaps. One day these things they both will be able to hear."

8. New Vows

Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry in hearing Anakin's voice talking to his mother from beyond the door he glided passed. Anakin had taken to telling his mother about his day from the first evening he had come to the Jedi Temple, ten years ago. But surely he could forgo such communion just once? It was his wedding night, after all, and how many brides wanted to share their husband's attention with his mother?

Of course Amidala would have gladly shared Anakin's attention had Shmi been able to attend their wedding. Had they been able to find Shmi and free her from whatever Master she had most recently been sold to. Had they been able to free Anakin's mother, or any of the slaves on Tatooine, Rengis or any other of the non-aligned worlds of the Outer Rim. But since the Jedi and the Republic could barely look to their own internal troubles --

Now who's indulging in inappropriate behavior?

As always, self chastisement echoed with Qui-Gon's voice, and Obi-Wan stopped in his restless wanderings to simply stop and let the Force move through him, even in disappointment. He had never found out if Master Yoda had truly believed Qui-Gon would come back to him through the Force, or if telling him so set up a simple wish fulfillment. But indeed, the Living Force spoke to Obi-Wan in Qui-Gon's voice, never more so today as when he had stood beside his Padawan at Anakin's marriage to the Queen of Naboo.

And almost, almost it was enough. Indeed, Obi-Wan felt happy, well at least felt happiness for Anakin, for Amidala and for the people of Naboo who finally seemed able to put the horrors of the war and restoration throughout the last ten years behind them with the wedding of their beloved sovereign and one of the war's great heroes.

A good example, too, and something Obi-Wan had every intention of following.

But now, amidst the very buildings of his memories and in seeing the all too many reminders of what he had needed sacrifice in Naboo's war, he wasn't quite as ready to move on as he had so told himself. Obviously he should not have avoided joining his Padawan in Anakin's returns to Naboo as the boy -- no, the man -- had begun courting his royal angel even as he had been training to be a Jedi.

It had been much easier, however, to encourage the two meet on Coruscant when they could manage to find the time to fit their relationship in between their duties. As Queen, Amidala often needed consult with the Senator who represented her planet to the Republic, nor was anyone surprised also to see the special interest the Supreme Chancellor had taken to shepherding the ruler of his homeworld in her maturity.

Obi-Wan had returned to Naboo exactly three times in the years since Qui-Gon's death. The first had been out of duty, overseeing the renewal of the treaty between the Humans and Gunguns. But like then, he had not set foot in Theed the other two times either, agreeing only to a tour of the recovering countryside, and later journeying with Anakin to meet Amidala's mother who still lived in their original mountain home.

Now, this night and being in the palace, it didn't matter that the last time here was ten years ago, or that much of Theed had been rebuilt. Too easily Obi-Wan could still see evidence of the battle, could relive it and the day afterward did he but close his eyes. Which is why he was wandering the halls instead of seeking his rest as were the other revelers.

And hearing Anakin talking in the air to his mother instead of his Padawan whispering sweet words into his new bride's ear.

"Please tell me I was never that single-minded," he whispered into the Force. But of course he didn't need to hear any answer to know that he had been. That he still was, and about many things. Like talking to Qui-Gon when he never expected an answer.

But maybe it was time to put at least something to rest.

Obi-Wan found his feet taking him to the hanger, then the power station, retracing the path so frantically rushed over in their battle with the Sith. Even with his eyes open he could retrace every move, could relive every swing, feint and parry. At the catwalk where he'd been kicked over, Obi-Wan jumped down, again marveling at how he had caught himself before plunging to his death, at how he managed the leap back upward, whereas now he needed find the steps leading up to resume his steps.

Too bad the adrenaline and his extraordinary connection to the Force in that time had not ultimately mattered. Obi-Wan had still been too slow to join his Master before the damned security fields had kicked in. And too slow passing through them. This time he waited as he had in the past, counting the seconds, remembering the number of steps between the last barrier and the first.

Even now, even at the utmost peak of his strength, skill and abilities, he found he couldn't make it from one end to the other in one cycle of the fields. And, he supposed as he reclaimed his breath, knowing this did help. As had the passage of time to recover from his loss.

As much as he would ever recover.

Standing before the melting pit Qui-Gon had died beside, that he had almost died within before consigning the Sith instead to its fiery maw, Obi-Wan dropped to his knees. There was no blood any longer, no commemorative markings, of course, and not even a lingering dissonance in the Force. But Obi-Wan needed no help to find the location of his Master's final breath.

Only finding it, like finding out that once he had fallen he couldn't have joined Qui-Gon in time, released some of the pain he held within his heart instead of adding to it.

All at once Obi-Wan reached into one of the many pockets of his belt, withdrawing the thin braid that had been the mark of his simple relationship with his Master, yet had come to represent everything between them. He would have liked to have been able to burn it with Qui-Gon's body, but the Council had not yet advanced him to Knighthood before Qui-Gon's pyre, and afterward it had been too late to add it to the ashes.

The ties had yellowed and aged, but still the braid had held tight. He gave half a laugh as he now started to unravel it; never since Qui-Gon had he unwoven it, literally or figuratively. Ten years. And now, when at last he could, when he did, letting the hair spill across his fingers and down into the melting pit, still his heart stayed plaited to his one and only love. The love he held in Anakin, in his friends, in his duty would be enough.

As was the love offered in his dreams.

And maybe now he could actually embrace those dreams, instead of turning away and denying himself their comfort.

9. Resolve

"General -- Obi-Wan, wake up! It's over, it was just a dream."

With a start Obi-Wan jerked awake, automatically pushing away the hand that Bail had placed on his shoulder. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, only that this had become too routine in the weeks that had followed Anakin's turning for Obi-Wan to take much more comfort than just in the fact that no one else was aware of this lingering weakness.

And weakness it was most definitely becoming; he only seemed to sleep a few hours before the nightmare would again come upon him. Part of it was true, a remembered past, while part was only fear, future. Unfortunately Obi-Wan was rapidly loosing sight of which was real. Which could become real. What he needed was to return to Coruscant, to loose himself within the warmth and comfort of home and friends.

Or at least to find time to mediate on what had just happened. And the other memories it had invoked within him.

Obvious only now, Anakin's turning would be the next step in a primarily undeclared war between the Jedi and the Sith. But only Obi-Wan and the Jedi seemed to care that Emperor Palpatine was the Sith. Or that he had turned the Chosen One of prophecy against his Master and to the Dark.

The newly self-proclaimed Emperor had done all of his tasks well, disguising himself and his ambitions under promises of protection in lieu of temporary suspensions of freedoms when the acts of terror and piracy suddenly exploded beyond the Core Worlds, then the wars brought inward by the Mandelloreans and Clone Makers. The Republic -- no, Empire now -- had its own army outside of and above those fielded by the member worlds.

Being Jedi was not illegal, not yet, but Obi-Wan and several of the others knew it was coming. Already many member worlds turned to the new Imperial Forces to fight for them instead of the Jedi, and on some worlds Jedi were actually being banned or hunted as being the harbingers of the clones and the source of the Mandellorean hatred that had sent system after system clamoring for Imperial assistance.

For almost three years Obi-Wan had been in the field, seeing other Jedi only when the paths of different planetary forces aligned themselves against too many threats. He hadn't really had time to concern himself with anything other than the wars. And his Padawan, but obviously not enough.

And none of that had changed, was now actually worse, as his concern for Anakin needed be to stop him.

But it wasn't as if he was bereft of friends; both of the Bails had proven stalwart companions and shield brothers, as had several others. Unfortunately, most of his friends were likely to soon loose their positions and power as the Senate, like the remnants of the Jedi Council, would soon become ineffectual in temporizing the Sith's ambitions.

Obi-Wan gingerly lifted himself from the bed he no longer seemed very able to sleep in, this time allowing Bail to help steady him when his leg buckled under him. Mentally and physically he still needed healing from his last confrontation with Anakin. But there was no time, not when his former Padawan had sworn to make those who had supposedly betrayed him pay.

There were times -- only several times every hour of every day -- that Obi-Wan railed at Fate and the Force at how he had only almost died in battling Anakin. His own death, however, would have been too easy; he still needed to atone for failing Anakin. For failing Qui-Gon.

And he knew that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

"What's the ship's status?" he asked of Bail, knowing, however, that if anything was amiss, he would have been woken before the nightmare made doing so a necessity.

"Perfectly fine," Bail said with a smile that rarely failed to lighten Obi-Wan's mood. Although there was absolutely nothing to be smiling about, the ruler of Alderaan nevertheless almost always managed to find one. Which courtesy usually then forced Obi-Wan to return.

He didn't really mind. Nor did he shake off the hand Bail still offered, even though he no longer needed the other's physical support to keep standing. In the beginning of their service together, that hand had been offered in more than friendship. But Bail had not persisted when Obi-Wan had gently turned him away.

And now, now, any touch was a comfort. A reminder that he wasn't as alone as he felt.

He would even let Bail help him dress, as his recovery wasn't really far enough along for him to bend and contort into the uniform. He should have asked for a valet, of course, instead of demeaning a head of state to be his body servant. But Bail had been the first one to find him on the lifeless moon, had acted as healer and confessor.

Now, too, they needed hide the extent of Obi-Wan's injuries and vulnerability lest rumors or reality further demoralize the army and the fleet. Few might really understand what it meant to be Jedi -- or Sith -- but Obi-Wan was theirs whereas Anakin had left them. The two had been Clone War heroes. Something Bail had shamelessly played upon in recruiting allies and volunteers, would still need to use in order to keep hope alive in the face of all the new changes sweeping through all of their lives.

And it just wouldn't do for anyone to realize how easily a Jedi could be hurt.

Instead of the uniform that marked him General, Obi-Wan found himself reaching for his tunics and robe.

"Obi-Wan?"

He let Bail take the homespun cloth from his hands, turning next to a small recess in the wall without answering. Inside were lightsabers, three lightsabers, though it had come as a surprise when Anakin had actually thrown the first one he had crafted to his Master's feet before drawing the one he had made to proclaim himself Sith. For a moment Obi-Wan's fingers lingered over the pitted casing and his heart contracted painfully.

He had been so proud when Anakin had chosen his former Master's hilt as its model. While Obi-Wan had actually carried Qui-Gon's for a time after his Master's death, eventually he had crafted a replacement for his own lost at the same time, and Qui-Gon's had sat in a place of honor in their quarters to inspire them both.

Just as Anakin's would now, as a reminder of his own complacency and arrogance though he could only hope that one day it would serve to instead let him remember the Anakin he had -- still -- loved.

Leaving aside Anakin's, he then ran his hand along Qui-Gon's, fingering each little ding and scratch, bringing up memory of what had caused each one either from witnessing, or from Qui-Gon's many stories of his own Knighthood. There had been a lot of stories; they had had thirteen years together.

Just as had he and Anakin.

He refused to let that symmetry and symbolism stay his purpose, however, and at last pulled out his own. The Emperor nee Supreme Chancellor had cautioned General Kenobi from wearing it, seemingly concerned that those who were to take Obi-Wan's orders would be confused that he didn't wear what they did, that he didn't wield the weapons they wielded, and therefore would not adhere to his authority. A concern the Jedi Council had let themselves be swayed to believe. As they had so many others.

So be it. He had never wanted that type of authority anyway. It would be as a Jedi that he would now fight, now and until he drew his last breath and passed into the Force.

"General?"

At last he looked over his shoulder at Bail. "No longer, my friend." And he began to pull back the hair that had never quite reached the length his Master's had, yet was still long enough to be caught up in the ties he now removed from a well worn belt and pouch.

There had been six, two of which had replaced the beaded ones that had kept his Padawan braid intact and tucked away in the same pouch for ten years, only to be undone and sacrificed the night of Anakin's wedding three years ago. Two more he had given to Anakin when the boy's own braid had finally lengthened enough to use them both, the one physical thing they had shared of Qui-Gon's. Obi-Wan supposed Anakin had cast them away as he had all other things to hurt his Master when the boy turned from the Jedi.

But that still left Obi-Wan with two, one of which had been frayed almost beyond use even when he had removed it from Qui-Gon's hair on that last day. He twisted them together and used a little of his connection to the Force to strengthen the entwining. It needed last only a few more years -- maybe ten, twenty, entwined like he and Qui-Gon were intertwined. His memories and his Master's, his skill the result of Qui-Gon's training. And their love, forever a part of him through the Force.

"Bail, you know the next thing Emperor Palpatine will need do to further consolidate his position is foster complete dependence on his … protection. He'll call for disbanding all of the old combined Republic forces. He'll not be able to yet break actual alliances, or forbid planetary troops, but --"

"But if he isolates us further … " Bail nodded. "The troubles will continue to cause more and more worlds to turn to him, without any of them realizing -- caring -- whom they have gotten into bed with."

"And that will further cut off support from or to the Jedi," Obi-Wan nodded himself as he shrugged into the first of his tunics. "But I -- I can, should, try to serve as a visible reminder for as long as I can get away with it."

"Not even Palpatine can move against you." Bail let wryness twist his lips. "Too many of his own troops were veterened under your command against the Clones."

Clones financed and outfitted by Palpatine Obi-Wan now knew, but had no proof.

Yet he didn't contradict the other's misplaced optimism. Nor mention that Palpatine had no immediate need to remove or discredit one Obi-Wan Kenobi anyway. Not when he had Obi-Wan's former Padawan to do so for him.

Well, Anakin could only kill him; he could never hurt him more than he already had by turning. Nor could the boy -- or his Master -- ever hope to stop Obi-Wan from being a Jedi.

10. New Hope

Obi-Wan, you can come in you know," the woman said softly, out of deference for the sleeping child in her arms, and, no doubt, because of the fragility she had been able to sense when he'd handed the baby over.

"Thank you, Beru, but we both know it is better if I do not."

"I know Owen has -- you know he doesn't mean what he says," she corrected herself, voice tightening in worry and compassion. "He is just --"

"He is just more right than he knows," Obi-Wan interrupted, his own voice hoarse with emotions too long suppressed.

Amidala, dying in his arms just as Qui-Gon had, needing to separate the twins, leaving Leah with Bail ...

He had hoped -- they all had hoped that her babies would have kept Amidala focused, strong, and they had. But for only a few months beyond am Alderaan year. In some ways, the destruction of the Jedi Order on Coruscant and the deaths of so many, had been as bad for her as it had Obi-Wan. For she had been the one needed to keep Obi-Wan from just giving up, from surrendering to his doubts, fears and guilt.

He hadn't been able to tell her it had been Anakin's hand behind the attack for all that the rest of the Empire thought it had come from one of the terrorists/rebels/hired mercenaries that now ran free throughout the worlds. But he hadn't needed to tell her; her link with his former Padawan had lasted longer than his own. She had known, and she had never fully recovered from the truth they had both tried so hard to deny.

Obi-Wan couldn't deny it any longer, of course. Anakin was gone, not only lost to the Darkness, but now a true Sith, the absolute antithesis of what they had all tried to help him become. Anakin had become the enemy, almost more so than his Master, for with Anakin -- no, Darth Vader now -- his hatred of the Jedi was no abstract thing of philosophy. Vader's hatred was personal, honed by a Council's fears, an Emperor's lies, a boy's insecurities, and a man's broken heart.

"Obi-Wan?"

He turned at last to the woman he hoped would have enough love to forgive her brother-in -law for what he needed her to do, and enough to love a babe that was not her own.

"Owen is right, Beru, if not for the reasons he thinks," he offered with a weary, brittle smile. "The boy needs a family, not a Master. To know that he is loved as himself, instead of as an answer to a prophecy. Or seen as a burden. It's where we went wrong the first time. Where I went wrong. But I, I cannot f-fail again."

She stepped forward, trying to offer the comfort Obi-Wan couldn't accept. "But you do love him," and she gestured to the boy in her arms with the hand that Obi-Wan had automatically rebuked. "And you would be welcome to stay with us," she tried again.

He took another step away and shook his head. "You and Owen have your own life, Beru. And I've mixed you up in mine too much already." But he couldn't look down at Luke. "It would be too dangerous, together we would focus too much of the Force and Vader's attention where it must not be."

It was why he'd needed split up the twins, why he avoided joining Yoda on Dagobah, or even would try to track down any Jedi that might have survived the purge. They would all have to be alone now, hidden. Waiting.

Watching.

"Where will you go?"

Obi-Wan started to lift his cowl against the wind that was beginning to rise. "I'll stay nearby, at least near enough to help you should any of you need me." The sand was whipping up along with the wind, and Obi-Wan knew he needed to leave so that Beru would see to Luke's care. And her own.

Just scant hours on Tatooine, and once again a storm rising. Once again his life, all he knew and all he had faith in, was about to be tested.

And changed.

"You and Luke need to get inside," he cautioned. "And I need to set off. With a storm coming, Owen will soon be back and it would be best if I am not here when you tell him about Luke."

Beru took a moment to settle Luke within his swaddling, then didn't let Obi-Wan avoid her hand this time as she placed it against his trembling shoulder.

"You will always have a home here, Obi-Wan."

He gave her a last smile over that shoulder before ducking away. "It's Ben now, Beru. As far as the Empire knows, Obi-Wan died with the rest of the Jedi."

"Just don't let Ben forget his debt to Obi-Wan then," she whispered to his back. "And don't let guilt cause you to forget Obi-Wan. Luke will need him one day, will need to know, will deserve to know about the Jedi. And about those who loved him enough to give him away."

Even if he hadn't been cursed/blessed with an eidetic memory, Obi-Wan would never forget the steps that had led him here to Tatooine and his brother's wife. He only hoped these memories -- and his guilt -- didn't drive him mad before he could perform that last duty.

"Good-bye, Beru." Obi-Wan moved at last to enter into his speeder. "And thank you," he breathed, not looking back at Luke, unable to look back at Luke. Unable to look back at all. Only forward.

And to the Future.

Like knowing he'd have to clean out the sand from the casing of his saber in a few hours. And every day he stayed on this wild and unforgiving world. An old ritual.

He had so many to remember, but there wouldn't be enough hours in the night, or even in the day of a world with two suns. Not enough grains of sand in the vast Dune Sea he'd now call his home, to remember each one he needed to.

But he would try, just as he would continue to wear his tunics and robe. Reaffirming -- remembering -- what he was. Who he was.

And who he still needed to be.

He would watch, and remember, and endure. Living only in the moment, and looking only to the future.

He would wait as the Force waited. Patient and with hope.