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The Chosen

by Sarina Argus/Aya

TITLE: The Chosen

Author: Sarina Argus/Aya

Rating: NC-17

Summary: AU, WAY AU. What if Qui-Gon never took Obi-Wan as a padawan?

Archive: Please do so. Just let me know. MA. Temple Library, OKEB, QJEB, Myths, Prudes, and BIC please do.

Author's Note: Again I say, this is WAY AU. We're going to pretend the JA books #2-whatever NEVER HAPPENED. That is, Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan go.

WARNINGS: Slash, non/con. If you don't like it, um.. I'll tag that part so you can skip it :)

Disclaimers: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. The original characters, this idea and story is mine. No money made from this fic, done only out of love.

Feedback: Please please please please please please say something. This fic was hard to get just right. Let me know if what you think.

The first year was the hardest. They kept him hidden, Force blind, drugged more often than not. It wasn't a comfortable existence. But he was Jedi. He survived.

The second year, he was close to giving up hope. Surely the order wouldn't have given up on him by now. He had friends, powerful friends as well as a powerful master. Well, former master, he corrected himself. Surely he wouldn't have given him up without seeing a body or feeling his presence in the Force. The others would laugh, 'You're fooling yourself, old man. Whatever you were before, those days were over."

The third year he was traded away like a beast.

And now he found himself on the block again, his dealer showing the slave off as best as he could. Not many buyers this time, he thought ruefully. Am I truly that old? That useless? He stood up a bit straighter, his face a mask of serenity. He'd not been able to call on the Force for some time because of the slaver's implants, but his training had not left him.

"I'll give you 200 for him, no more." A new voice called out, and Qui-Gon grit his teeth.

"Two hundred? You bankrupt me!" his dealer wheedled. "He's worth at least five."

"He's too old, and too proud. I'd most likely end up killing him before breaking him. I'm only offering because you're desperate." The buyer read him well. "Two hundred for him, and three for the woman."

The dealer hesitated, then nodded. And Qui-Gon Jinn, once revered master of the Jedi Knight order, now found himself at the mercy of a new master.

The trip across the desert was long, but cool in the night air, and Qui-Gon wondered what kind of man his new owner was. He glanced at the cloaked figure, whose features were all but hidden in his flowing headscarf. Thinking back at how quickly the deal was closed, he wondered if his new master was as calculating as he appeared to be.

What ever he was, he was a merciful one. The woman he bought begged that he buy her child as well. The boy was also up for sale, but was advertised as an amoran so the price was much higher. Yet, he paid the asking price without flinching, though it was obvious the man wasn't looking for a pleasure slave. Qui-Gon glanced again at the man, a question on his lips.

"Ask already, or sit still. It's very distracting."

Qui-Gon blinked, startled by the amusement in the rich tenor. "I was curious why. I doubt you lack for companionship. You don't seem the type."

His new master snorted. "Just looking out for my interests. I'm not foolish, and it was a small price to pay for loyalty." He paused a moment, then added, "Not that it should matter to you."

"I was just concerned for the boy," Qui-Gon started.

"Oh?" Gray eyes turned to him, piercing him with a look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about a child's welfare?"

The older man flinched. "I'm not a monster," he protested.

"No, you're a slave. My slave, and you'll do well to remember that." The young man turned his attention back to the sands, leaving Qui-Gon at a loss for words. Turning his attention to the manacles on his wrists, he began the meditation of the wind.

The farming compound was not large by any means, but looking at the advanced technology, the well-maintained droids and the number of beings awaiting the skiff, it was a very successful one. Qui-Gon was led off down the ramp into a holding compound and into a large building. There he was stripped, cleaned and dressed in pale leggings and a loose white shirt. He was then led by another droid to a waiting area.

He didn't wait much longer. His owner strode in, tossing his cloak to a waiting servant before helping himself to a drink. "I trust you were fed before the auction," he said, keeping his back to the larger man.

Qui-Gon shook his head, his hands bound in front of him. "None of us were."

The young man motioned to an older female servant. "See that the others are taken care of." She curtseyed quickly, then started out. "And please bring dinner for my guest." She nodded and left them alone.

He finally turned and faced Qui-Gon, who was suddenly struck with a sense of deja-vu. "Have we met before?"

The younger man smiled, though it was hardly a comforting look. "A long while ago, Qui-Gon, though I wondered if you'd remember me." He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest.

"I apologize. These past years are hardly what I would consider to be routine for me."

"I wouldn't think so. This is hardly the place I'd expect to find the legendary Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Not that I'm complaining, of course."

Qui-Gon blinked. "You know me?"

The young man gestured to a large chair across from him. "Of course. Anyone familiar with the Jedi order knows your reputation." He strode around the room, waving his glass as he spoke. "Rebellious, arrogant Qui-Gon Jinn, curse and blessing of the Jedi Council. A man whose heart was so hardened by the turning of his second apprentice, he swore never to take another apprentice, will of the Force be damned."

Qui-Gon flinched at that his words. "You have me at a disadvantage sir."

"Good." The young man smiled and took a seat across from Qui-Gon. "How many boys and girls did you send to the 'corps?' Ten? Twenty? All because of your Sith-be- damned pride. Setting his glass on the table between them, the young man leaned forward, resting his chin on his tented fingers. "Dreams died and lives ended because of your vow. Yours and others like you."

"It was the will of the Force..." Qui-Gon muttered, then was cut off by a bitter laugh.

"It was the will of the Force that we be brought together. Yoda saw it, I saw it, the whole damn order saw it. Everyone but you. And now the Force brings you here. To me. We were destined to be together." Another unsettling smile. "Ironic that you are not the master in this case."

Qui-Gon glared at him. "Who are you?"

He swept up his glass in a silent salute. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you belong to me."

Qui-Gon stared at the young man whom Yoda wanted him to take as his third padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. A talented young man whose Force signature almost blinded him when they met during the choosing. The boy wanted so much to be a Jedi, wanted to serve the Force as a knight. Kenobi's desire was so strong, it frightened him then, so much so Qui-Gon rejected the boy that begged to be his apprentice. He let the boy go.

The man the boy became smiled again, and that smile frightened him. Even with Qui-Gon's suppressed force sensitivity, he could feel Kenobi's signature, stronger now with light and dark energy flowing through him, shifting in the air between them as he tossed back a wheat-gold lock of hair.

"I don't suppose you expected to see me again, did you Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and raised his glass to his lips.

"I must say it is not exactly what I expected," Qui-Gon answered, gathering his wits about him.

"And what were you expecting, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon flinched at the scorn that dripped from the honorific. "I was expecting to be treated like a slave."

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow. "And how would that be? Bound, gagged, left naked and vulnerable in the dark? Or maybe tortured and beaten for not performing up to standard." He set his glass down lightly. "It can be arranged, you know. I'd hate to disappoint you a second time..." He chuckled then. "Not that it would matter in this case, as I have no desire to cast you aside."

"What do you want?" Qui-Gon asked through clenched teeth.

Obi-Wan drawled, "For now, I want to know exactly what kind of man throws a boy away. What kind of people condemn their young to such an existence?"

"The Jedi do not throw away the young, they show them the path..."

Obi-Wan cut him off. "Yes, yes, they show them the path the Force has chosen for them. Don't tell me you actually believe that babble, I thought you were more intelligent than that."

"Well obviously you've not done badly," Qui-Gon noted as another servant brought in a tray piled high with food. "With servants, plenty to eat, you are more fortunate than a mere knight."

Obi-Wan laughed bitterly. "No thanks to your order, Qui-Gon. This," he said, gesturing to the surroundings, "came from several years of very hard work. And powerful connections."

"So you no longer serve the agricorps?"

"You could say that," Obi-Wan replied. "More accurately, I did not fit into the mold of a model agricorps slave."

"So you left."

"No. I was sold."

"Sold?" Qui-Gon was incredulous.

"For five moisture collectors, a cask of Alderaanian brandy and a night with three of the dealer's favorite women." Obi-Wan shrugged. "At the time, it was the most they'd paid for Jedi-trash. I suppose I should be happy with that." He refilled his glass. "Master D'fnee took one look at me and saw what he called my 'true value.' He then contacted the dealers and sold me to the highest bidder. And as he put the binding collar around my neck, he said, 'Think of the good you'll be doing the others, and the order.' He patted my behind, groped me a bit and turned me over to my new owner. Wine?" he offered.

Qui-Gon sat, incredulous. "You were sold?"

Obi-Wan poured him a glass. "Of course. All the pretty ones are. Neela was sold as she didn't have the 'gift' for farming. She died there you know." Obi-Wan's gaze went distant. "They sold her to a group of mercenaries. She didn't survive the first night."

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon offered, unable to meet the younger man's stare.

"So was D'fnee. He had to give back half the fee." His voice was so matter-of-fact, it unsettled the Jedi master. Just as Obi-Wan had hoped. "And he was chosen by your council to nurture the poor children deemed unworthy by people like you. You must be quite proud."

"Is that why I'm here? To pay for his crimes?"

"Hardly." Obi-Wan smiled then. "I have other plans for you, but for now please eat. I have a wonderful cook, she does wonders with the meager supplies we have available." He turned to the figure entering the room.

The boy was 12, maybe 13 years old, with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His hair was cropped short in front, with a long tail falling from his nape. He barely gave Qui-Gon a glance before turning to Obi-Wan.

"Master," the boy started, "I've finished the last forms and my meditations."

Obi-Wan smiled and called the boy closer. "Has Garen approved you to move on?"

The boy nodded. "He said I should be able to move on to blasters and blaster bolts."

"Excellent," Obi-Wan patted the boy's shoulder then gestured to Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, this is Anakin Skywalker, my simulan or student."

Anakin looked the older man over, sizing him up. "It's good to meet you, sir." Eyeing the meal, he added, "My mom made that. She's a really good cook." Glancing back at Obi-Wan, "Master?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Of course, Ani. I was just waiting for you. I know how much you dislike dining alone." He glanced at Qui-Gon again. "I know you don't care for children, but I hope you don't mind Ani's presence. He and his mother always share meals with me."

An older woman entered, carrying another tray. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. One of the girls needed my help."

"Not at all. I was just introducing our guest to Anakin. This is Anakin's mother, Shmi." He gestured to Qui-Gon again. "Shmi, this is Qui-Gon Jinn, late of the Jedi order."

"You're really a Jedi?" Anakin stared openly at the older man.

"Yes, I am," Qui-Gon answered softly, puzzling out the strange looks both the boy and his mother gave him. Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan, who nodded solemnly, then back at the large man. He snorted quietly and turned his attention to his meal.

"Please eat, Master Jinn," Obi-Wan drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Lady Shmi is a wonderful cook." Shmi smiled slightly at Obi-Wan, then turned a wicked stare to Qui-Gon.

An awkward silence fell over the room. Qui-Gon ate lightly, carefully watching both his would-be apprentice and the boy who called Obi-Wan master. There were strange currents there, quick sly glances that turned into dagger looks towards Qui-Gon. He'd not felt this uncomfortable in a very long time.

"Mister Jinn, why did you throw my master away?"

Qui-Gon met the boy's blue eyed gaze. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do." The boy set his fork down and stared at him hard. "You were supposed to be with my master. I can feel it now, just like my master and I are meant to be together. But you didn't want him. Why? What was wrong with him?"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and glanced at Obi-Wan. The young man settled back into his chair and watched him, amused.

Anakin continued. "Well? Didn't you like him? He's really nice and a wizard Grey. Why didn't you teach him?"

"Anakin, I don't think I can answer that," Qui-Gon answered.

Anakin stared at him a moment longer, then turned back to his master. "You were right, Master."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Anakin nodded. "He is a coward."

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon. "Anakin, I'm sure that Mister Jinn would prefer his faults not be pointed out in such a blunt fashion."

"Yes master," the boy nodded. "I apologize, sir, if I've offended you." He gave Qui-Gon another sly look and quickly finished his meal.

Qui-Gon, again was at a loss for words and rather than flounder, turned his attention back to his meal. "Madam," he directed to Shmi, "may compliment you on a fine meal?"

"Thank you sir," she answered curtly. Turning to Obi-Wan, she raised a questioning eyebrow. Obi-Wan nodded. "If you'll excuse us," she said, standing quickly. "Anakin?"

Anakin rose then bowed to Obi-Wan, "Master..."

Obi-Wan smiled warmly and ruffled the boy's hair. "Rest well, simulan. We have a long day ahead of us." Nodding to Shmi, "Good night, and thank you again for a wonderful meal."

Shmi curtseyed, then led her son from the room. Obi-Wan watched them leave then turned back to Qui-Gon.

"Now then, I'm sure you have questions for me before we proceed."

Qui-Gon studied the young man for a few moments. "What do you want from me?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "What do I want? That's hardly a question I can answer to your satisfaction over a glass of wine. Wouldn't you want to start with something easier?"

"No, actually, I'd like you to explain what I'm doing here. Why did you want me?"

The smile faded. "Let's get one thing straight, Jinn. I don't want you, I own you. The Force brought us back together after you, in your arrogance, chose to ignore its will. You brought this fate upon us both."

"You didn't have to buy me."

"And you didn't have to cast me off. But because of your hubris, many initiates were cast off by knights who followed your example, not wanting to commit to training the next generation, regardless of what the Force dictated."

"You blame me for them?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I'm not ignorant enough to blame you for the acts of so many knights, but I can blame you for the precedent you set in choosing this path. And may I point out that regardless of what you say, the Force destined us to be together, else you'd not have crossed my path again." Obi-Wan drank his wine in several swallows before setting the glass down lightly on the tabletop. "The rebel Master Qui-Gon Jinn set his Force destined apprentice aside, for fear he'd train another only to walk the dark path..."

"That's not why I did not choose you." Qui-Gon interrupted.

"Then why?"

Qui-Gon thought back, remembering the young boy from so long ago. "You seemed... too angry. Too desperate."

Obi-Wan laughed. "I had just turned 12 and was attending my last choosing. You were my last hope, Qui-Gon, of course I was desperate."

"Both you and Initiate Chun. He wasn't chosen either."

"I know," Obi-Wan answered. "He arrived several weeks after I did. And was sold to the same traders I was, but he didn't fare as well."

"What do you mean? What happened to him?"

Any further conversation was cut off as another young man came in. "Ben, fifteen on the late shuttle. D'fnee is furious."

Obi-Wan was on his feet in an instant. "Who's out there?"

"Siri. It's her time." The young man turned and stared incredulously at the older man. "Ben, is that..."

"Did she put up much of a fight?" Obi-Wan cut him off, grabbing his outer cloak.

"Yes, unfortunately. We ended up sedating her. She'll be all right."

Obi-Wan nodded, then turned to Qui-Gon. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do. My people will see you to your room." So saying, he turned quickly and followed the other man out, leaving behind a bewildered Qui-Gon Jinn.

It would be several hours before Qui-Gon was summoned again. This time he was led to a severe looking office where Obi-Wan, or Ben as he was now known, waited.

"I apologize for shuttling you off so quickly, I had business to take care of." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Please, I need to send a communiqué before we continue our discussion."

Qui-Gon lowered himself into the chair as Ben activated the comm. Several moments passed in silence. Then a dark figure appeared on the holopad in front of him.

"Obi-Wan, its good to hear from you again."

"Thank you Mace," Obi-Wan smiled. "It's been a while."

"Too long." A long pause. "Did it go well?"

"Like clockwork. Tell Adi that Siri is here and unharmed. I'll do the mind wipe in the morning and send her on her way."

"She'll be glad to hear that. Siri isn't ready for the truth just yet."

Another pause. "I know Siri's well being wasn't the reason for this contact, was it?"

Obi-Wan flashed a wicked smile. "Actually, there is something else. There's someone I'm sure will want to say hello to you." He turned the pad to face Qui-Gon. "Look what I found..."

Qui-Gon watched the councillor's eyes widen in shock. "Qui-Gon?"

"Mace, thank the Force. I'd all but given up hope of ever being rescued."

"Qui-Gon, I had no idea..." Mace started. "No one could feel you in the Force, not even Yoda. We thought you were dead."

"As you can see I'm very much alive, but I'll explain that when I'm back at the temple. Tell Kenobi to release me."

"I can't do that Qui."

"What do you mean you can't do that?" The older man was incredulous.

"What he means," Obi-Wan drawled, "Is that You. Belong. To me."

Mace stammered, "Obi-Wan is your master now, Qui-Gon. You'd do well to listen to him. We'll speak again later." The image disappeared.

"Wait!" he shouted. "What is that supposed to mean? What's going on?"

Obi-Wan turned the pad off. "Mace, Adi, as well as several of the knights, masters and councillors share my more enlightened view."

"And what view would that be?"

"We believe a war is coming, and we want our side to win."

"Your side? The Dark?"

The younger man chuckled. "Such a quaint but archaic word. Dark, Light, it doesn't matter, as they are so alike in nature it's pathetic." He paused a moment to sip his neglected water. "The Force is neither dark nor light. The use is subjective. But while the Jedi are designating the worthy and the saved, and the Sith rely only on two, there were countless others being cast aside. Until now."

"What are you saying?"

"You left me to die on that Force-forsaken planet. You felt the will of the Force and tossed it aside, like refuse. Like all the others. The initiates not good enough for your sacred order. But I survived, and with my help, many more did as well. And when the Sith choose to reveal themselves, they may count us allies. For as long as it suits our purposes."

"The Sith have been dead for centuries..."

"Are you so blinded by your mindless teaching that you can't feel the darkness around? Even Mace feels it, KNOWS it." He flopped back into his chair. "Oh yes, I forget, you were a student of Yoda. That would explain it all."

This sparked a bit of defiance. "Do not speak of my master that way."

"I'll speak of the old troll however I wish." His gaze went icy. "Though I don't know why you show such concern. He was the one who tried to convince you to take me as your padawan in the first place. He engineered it so you'd accompany me on the transport to Bandomeer. I suspect he was quite upset when you returned, apprentice-less."

Qui-Gon looked away, his shoulders falling a bit. "He was not pleased with me..."

"Furious, from what I'd been told. Mace said he would not speak to you for weeks, and was livid with you when Master Df'nee sent word that I'd died of some strange illness." Ben leaned forward, his chin resting on his tented fingers. "Did he blame you for that?" When Qui-Gon's chin lowered, Ben continued, "He did, didn't he. And what did you tell him?"

Qui-Gon mumbled softly, "I said it was the will of the Force. And he..." his voice broke, "he shook his head at me, and said he'd have no more to do with me."

"And then you began getting all the dangerous assignments, which you accepted without complaint. You must have had a suicidal streak, being cast off as you were."

He winced at the memory. "It's all in the past."

"Of course it is." Ben called in his servants. "Take him back to his quarters." Turning back to the older man, " We'll talk again later. I have business to attend to before I turn in for the night." Finishing his water, he smiled. "Pleasant dreams."

Qui-Gon barely slept that night, and alternated between meditation and self-pity. Mace would be no help, and from what he gathered, neither would any of the council. What little sleep he had was plagued by memories of his last meeting with his former master.

"A very powerful Jedi he would have been!" Yoda's cane tapped harshly on the marble floors. "And now, gone! Dead because of you!"

"It was the will of the Force, my master," he started and was promptly thrown to the floor with a wave of the gnarled hand.

"Will of the Force it was for you to teach him! Will of the Force it was that he become Jedi! Our future, in his hands it was! Forseen it I have! And now, gone!"

"Master," he pleaded.

"No more!" Yoda shouted. Then more quietly, "No more will you trouble me, Qui-Gon Jinn. Changed our destiny, you have because of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of losing another. Blinded were you by fear, Qui-Gon, and now suffer will we all. No more will I speak to you Qui-Gon. Defied me you have, for the last time."

"Master, wait, please..." he called, the gimmer tapping growing louder as his master walked away.

Qui-Gon bolted upright in his bed, shivering despite the heat. His breathing was ragged as he struggled to regain his composure. He attempted his basic breathing exercises, feeling like a lost initiate as he drew his knees to his chest.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," he chanted softly, rocking himself back and forth. "There is no passion there is serenity, there is no ignorance there is knowledge, there is no death, there is the Force..."

Do you really believe that? Ben's voice echoed in his mind.

He chanted louder. "There is no emotion there is peace. There is no passion there is serenity. There is no ignorance there is knowledge. There is no death there is the Force."

I'd pity you if you weren't so damn amusing.

"Leave me alone," Qui-Gon whispered and then chanted desperately, "There is no anger there is peace. There is no passion there is serenity, there is no ignorance there is knowledge. There is no death, there is the Force."

Care to test that theory?

Qui-Gon stopped chanting and felt soft chuckling in his mind, then silence. It would be a long time before he would close h?"

Ben's expression went flat. "No, I haven't. Or have you forgotten that I own you."

Qui-Gon grit his teeth as got to his feet.

Ben motioned to the shirt he wore. "Take this off."

Qui-Gon pulled the thin garment over his head. Old scars marred the once smooth skin.

Ben gestured at a random mark with the cheroot. "This one, how did you get it?"

Qui-Gon glanced down at his chest. "I was 25. Newly knighted. Mace and I were on our first mission as a team and it went wrong."

"The mark is too thin for a knife wound and too precise for a blaster mark."

"It was a vibro-ax. Mace has one on his back similar to this."

Ben nodded, "Yes, I know. Nasty scar." He pointed the glowing tip at a pale welt that curved around his waist. "This is from a whip." Qui-Gon nodded. "And this," continued Ben, "is a lightsaber burn. Where did this come from?"

Qui-Gon mumbled his answer, then felt the heat from the tip of the cheroot.

"I'd rather wait a few days before permanently marking you." Ben's voice was flat, emotionless. "Who gave you this?"

"Xanatos."

"There," Ben cooed, "was that so difficult?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and began his mental chant. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion there is serenity. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no death, there is the Force.

"Does that help, all that ancient Jedi drivel?" Ben asked. "You're thinking loud enough to fell a bantha." At Qui-Gon's stricken expression, he smiled. "Does it bother you? Being so close to the Force without being able to feel it? Or use it?" At the older man's silence, Ben continued. "I spent a good part of my life like that, first learning all the wonderful things the Force can do, then being told I was not good enough to use it, then being cut off completely."

"Who finished your training," Qui-Gon asked.

"Who said I was finished?"

"Is that why you brought me here? To finish your training?"

Ben shot a dagger look at the Jedi. "You put too much value on your knowledge, old man. Why would I give you the means of destroying me again?"

Qui-Gon lowered his gaze.

Ben backed away and spread his arms, more calm now. "Isn't the Force an elusive, ever-changing energy that takes more than a thousand lifetimes to understand completely?"

He paused a moment then continued. "To answer your question, I learned what I know now from several different masters." He turned quickly and headed to the door. "Come, our meal is waiting." When Qui-Gon reached for his shirt, Ben stopped him. "Leave it."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. And the boots too. I want you barefoot."

Qui-Gon started to question him again, but the look in Ben's eyes changed his mind. He followed the younger man from the room.

They entered a large dining hall. Already there was a large group waiting, who either nodded to Ben or stared openly at Qui-Gon. He suddenly felt very exposed and began to chant mentally again.

"Be thankful I let you keep your trousers. I'm sure there's more than one person who'd want to survey you completely." Ben led him to a chair at the head table. "But then I'm sure you've gotten used to it. It only took me a few months. By then, I had nothing left to hide."

Qui-Gon sat and folded his hands in his lap before him. Ben stood behind the chair next to Qui-Gon and called greetings to the others before taking his seat. Soon dishes of food were passed around the tables, followed by pitchers of drink. Everyone ate heartily, calling out jokes, telling stories and discussing the mission from the previous day. Qui-Gon at first refused the meal, then thought better of it. He'd need his strength if he was to escape. As he ate, he listened to the conversation around him.

"What about the ship, Ben? We can hardly throw her into space," called one young man.

"We can't keep it here," a Mon-Calamari shouted. "With those markings, it screams Jedi all over it."

"We could sell her whole or in pieces. She's still fully functional, or will be when we get done with it."

"That ship spells trouble. There's no way of getting rid of it without being found."

Ben held up a hand. "Did anyone check it for a homing beacon?"

"Twice," the Dressalian answered between mouthfuls of food. "We found 3, and jettisoned 2, just as you instructed."

"And the third?"

"Set in that container you sent to D'fnee." The entire company began to laugh as he continued. "They'll be chasing their tails then demanding the truth from the frog."

"I wonder what story he'll tell them this time, especially since Siri won't be able to help him," Ben mused. "Her mind was surprisingly simple to clear."

"What explanation will she give him?"

"She won't." Ben chuckled. "I didn't feel a need to make up a story for her. She came to try and find the missing ships. She promised the council she'd find the pirates that were looting the temple. I'd rather keep her grasping at shadows."

"She'll look as stupid as he will," the Mon-Calamari snorted. "Not that it would be a big stretch for her."

"You still angry at her, Bant?"

Bant smiled. "Not anymore..." And the company began to laugh again.

"What about the initiates?" Qui-Gon asked quietly. Many sets of eyes turned to him, glaring.

"Why do you care, Jinn?" Bant spat.

Qui-Gon ignored the young woman and asked Ben. "What about the children. What did you do with them?"

Ben raised an eyebrow. "They're safe. Safer than they would be had Siri completed her trip. The traders are back and D'fnee is woefully understocked. They'll start taking their business elsewhere." Ben smiled at the others then and turned his attention back to the group. "In any case, Mace has been notified and will be handling this investigation. Who do we wish to give up this time?"

Garen answered softly, "Palder, from Sonboh. Another three bodies were found in the wastes." A shudder ran through the room and silence fell over them. "These were from Teacrux, the hydro-corps settlement. They were reported missing as runaways several months ago."

"Any objections?" After several more moments, Ben nodded. "Very well, Palder it is. Whose turn is it?"

"Mine," Garen replied.

Ben looked at his friend with concern. "I'll go in your place if you wish. You don't have to."

Garen shook his head. "No, I need to do this. These are my trials." He looked up with a soft smile. "Then I'm pulling training duty for the next 3 cycles."

Ben nodded. "Done. I'll make sure the next run nets you some kermana jellies." He then turned to Qui-Gon. "Garen was sent to the hydrocorps with Bant. I'll let you sort out the rest."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "You can't tell me the council is unaware of this. Surely someone would be watching out for the children..."

"The council washes their hands of the initiates the moment the ship leaves the docking bay." Another man entered the room, robes billowing out behind him. "All they care about is who is left. The class of padawan learners. The rest are just numbers to them. Statistics to pad some council member's next funding requests."

Ben smiled as he stood and shook the outstretched arm. "Master, I'm glad you're safe. A great many things happened since last you were here." Turning back to Qui-Gon, he added, "I believe you know each other."

Qui-Gon stared at the outstretched hand before raising his gaze to the man across from him. Deep blue eyes sparked in recognition and amusement. He felt the blood drain from his cheeks as he was greeted by a deceptively mild voice.

"It's been a very long time, my master." Xanatos, late of Telos and Offworld Corporation, smiled back at him. "I wasn't planning on staying long, but now..." He turned back to the younger man. "Ready my rooms, Ben. Qui-Gon and I have a great deal of catching up to do."

Cool air brushed across Qui-Gon's shoulders as he followed his former apprentice to another part of the compound. Ben was occupied with his student's lessons, but would be meeting Xanatos at the 'yards' later, whatever they were. For now, he was at the dark-haired man's disposal.

"Did you get enough to eat this morning, Master?" Xanatos let the last word drip off his tongue like syrup.

"Yes, thank you. Your padawan was quite considerate."

"He's not my padawan," Xanatos noted.

"You trained him..."

"Qui-Gon, padawan is a Jedi term. A child with worth to a Jedi knight. I was a padawan," he explained. "Obi-Wan is my apprentice, one I teach to take my place and follow in my path."

"I taught you..."

"You conditioned me. You wanted to create me in your image. There is a difference."

Xanatos watched the older man squirm under his very amused gaze before removing his cloak. "How long has it been, Qui-Gon?"

"Not long enough," he muttered softly.

"Still bitter, master?" Xanatos chuckled. "You haven't changed. Still too stubborn and arrogant to see beyond the here and now... but then you were too in touch with 'the living Force,' weren't you." He waved his hands for dramatic effect. A silence fell upon them and lingered a few moments.

"You've done well for yourself." Qui-Gon said quietly.

"You'd be amazed how useful a Force-sensitive smuggler is. I was good, but Ben... he's been unbelievably successful in this business." Xanatos poured himself a drink and kicked off his boots. "And so strong in the Force... If I hadn't found him, taken him under my wing...

"He'd be fulfilling his destiny as the Force guided him."

"Gods, Qui-Gon, don't tell me you believed his Force-guided destiny was to play whore to deep spacers in every way possible." He paused a moment before continuing, meeting Qui-Gon's stunned look with an equally icy gaze. "That's how I found him. Naked, bound, being used by a Gamorrean in one end and a Taltosian in the other. He would have been screaming otherwise." At Qui-Gon's stunned stare, he smiled. "I'd bought time in the slaver's harem. Beautiful creatures, men and women existing only to service a person. For a price." He sipped his drink. "Ben was one of his premiums. 'Near virginal, barely broken...' How could I resist such a challenge. And then I saw him. The implant D'fnee put in him could barely mask the fear pouring off him. The dark energy. And he looked at me and all I could feel was you..."

"What are you talking about?"

Xanatos set his glass aside and slowly walked over to the sleeping mats. "He hated you. All he could think of was what the Force told him was his destiny, and the arrogant ass who took it away from him and condemned him to that existence." He flipped the top sheet back and sat on the edge of the bed. "Naturally I waited until they'd finished, after all, wasn't it you who taught me to wait my turn."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard, thinking about the expressive blue eyes he remembered.

"Anyway, they left, and he crawled to the corner, whispering that he'd be right with me. Gods, he was frightened." He stood again and picked up his glass. "He wasn't bad. I mean not as good as he is now... but then that comes from experience," he spat, piercing Qui-Gon with a cold stare, "doesn't it, master."

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon breathed.

"So was I."

Qui-Gon hesitated. "I'd hoped... I saw so much potential in you."

"As I did in Obi-Wan. But there's difference between us. I didn't punish Obi-Wan for believing differently than I did."

"I never punished you for holding different beliefs..."

"No." Hanging his cloak on the wall, he began loosening the ties to his shirt. "You never punished me, but you made me feel less than worthy, less than intelligent. You humoured me, made me believe I was making a difference, that we were making a difference as Jedi, when in fact we were just perpetuating the lie."

"What lie. What are you talking about?"

"The Jedi order are not protectors of the galaxy, they are mercenaries for a omnipotent, sanctimonious council. Trained thugs who serve by way of this all-knowing, all-powerful Force. But not the whole of the Force. Just the part the chosen few deem acceptable."

"That's not true, Xanatos," Qui-Gon mused softly. "You are still bitter about the life you left behind..."

"And you're still as blind as you always were! The council is not infallible, they never have been! You used to harp about how foolish they were..." Xanatos slammed his glass on the table, scattering shards of broken glass. "Do you remember that mission we had to Peralta 3? The one where we were to protect the regent until his coronation? I told you something was wrong, that I felt it. And you dismissed it as my misguided longing for my birthright. 'Padawan, you'll understand one day how much you've gained as a Jedi.' Remember that?"

Qui-Gon nodded slowly.

"After we left, he instated laws and commands that led to the genocide of half of the population! Millions were killed because of us, because we stood by and did nothing! Was that the Will of the Force?"

"It was not our place to..." Qui-Gon started.

"Sith, Qui-Gon, it's always the same excuse," Xanatos interrupted. "'The Force wills it. It's not our place to question.' Gods, I never thought I'd see the day the rebel master Qui-Gon Jinn, the man who challenged the council about the 'will of the Force,' falling back on their same, tired excuse,

'It's not my fault, it was the will of the Force.'"

"I have always served the Force as it willed me." Qui-Gon met his gaze again. "My choices didn't often mirror the opinion of the council, but still I followed my instincts."

"And what part of your instincts told you to seduce me?" Xanatos asked.

"I..." he stuttered, the blood slowly coloring his face, "it's what I thought you wanted."

Xanatos laughed. "I wanted a great many things then, old man, but you as a lover wasn't one of them." He dropped his shirt to the cool floor, then surveyed Qui-Gon with another glance.

"Which is why we stopped. When you wanted me to." Qui-Gon replied, tensing as the younger man approached him. "You told me you didn't want..."

"I didn't want you then, Qui-Gon. I didn't want anything to jeopardize my training." He raised his hand to Qui-Gon's throat. Qui-Gon flinched at first, then stood perfectly still as he began to separate his mind from his body. This body.

"But now..." Xanatos slid a hand over Qui-Gon's chest, causing a shudder to ripple through the older man's body.

Qui-Gon felt himself begin to respond to the expert touch. "Xan," Qui-Gon breathed, using his padawan's old nickname.

"Get into bed."

Qui-Gon hesitated. Xanatos' voice was much sharper this time. "Get into bed."

"Why?"

Xanatos laughed wickedly. "Why indeed? Because I said to."

"Xanatos..."

Xanatos quickly grabbed Qui-Gon by the hair and threw him across the room. "I don't know what you expected from me, nor do I care. But what you need to understand is this. You are no longer a Jedi Master, no longer a Jedi knight. You are Qui-Gon Jinn, bound legal property of Ben Kenobi, my apprentice, and while in these quarters, you answer to me. I don't give a damn about his revenge on you or your hurt feelings. All I care about is a body to relieve myself with." Stalking over to the prone man, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his trousers and with a Force-assisted pull, tore the garment away.

Qui-Gon felt the panic in his throat as memories of his last few years came back in a flood. The look in the young man's eyes was no different than those who assaulted him before. "Xanatos..."

"Just think, master," he drawled in response. "I'll be able to show you everything I've learned. You used to enjoy reviewing my lessons with me..."

He began to recite the code again. "There is no emotion, there is peace," he thought, steeling himself for the assault. He'd been used before, by strangers, his former owners, the dealers. Those times he'd call on his teachings, mentally reciting koans or passages to focus his mind on, pulling it away from his violated body. It was the one place they could not touch him The one place he'd be left alone.

If you'd rather do it this way, I'd be happy to oblige. Xanatos' laughter filled Qui-Gon's head.

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. He was greeted by the same predatory smile, which slowly began to fade.

"I'm growing very tired of this, Qui-Gon. Get. Into. Bed."

WARNINGS: this part is non con, if that ain't your cup of tea but you want to fig what else goes on, just skip to the next part.)

Qui-Gon swallowed hard. He slowly began to crawl up the side of the bed when he felt himself pinned by invisible hands to the side, stomach down, his legs slowly being nudged apart.

"Is this how you want it?" Xanatos purred. "I believe this is the position you preferred then." He ran a hand over Qui-Gon's lower back, trailing his fingers down the cleft of his buttocks. "Then again, I was usually in your position, wasn't I?"

Qui-Gon grit his teeth, drawing in deep breaths. His forced calm was shattered by a quick slap to his buttocks.

"Wasn't I?" Xanatos growled, loosening the belt to his trousers.

"Yes," Qui-Gon whispered.

"And you wanted it that way, didn't you?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon heard a dull thud behind him. He felt warm wetness run the length of his cleft, washing over him once, twice...

"And you want this don't you?"

"No, Xan, please..." He felt the warm hard shaft easing between his slick cheeks. It teased at the opening, then he felt Xanatos angle his hips upwards

Xanatos grabbed Qui-Gon's hips and pulled his body against him roughly.

"Well I want this." He pulled back slightly before pressing into the older man's body. "I want this now..." And Qui-Gon felt the pain down to his toes, though his fingertips and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as Xanatos moved against him, sliding into him with short hard thrusts.

The slap of skin against his thighs, the tearing of soft tissue, the edge of the bed cushion pressing into his stomach, the linen that tangled his beard as he was taken, he'd remember all of this later, the curse of his Jedi training. He remembered teaching Xanatos about observation. They would walk through a room and upon leaving, Qui-Gon would question him about it, wanting to know specifics, scents, minute annoying details that any casual observer would disregard. Even at the temple, Qui-Gon would test him about what was different in their shared quarters, making him remember minute details in everything they did. Xanatos was talented, but did poorly with those types of exercises.

As for himself, he could tell if his padawan changed the order of holovids on his shelf, the position of the plants in the windows, whether his chair had been moved even slightly. It made him a skilled field man and a cursed slave.

From the beginning, he remembered every person that took him: their smell, their feel, the way they used him. His first owner enjoyed it and was flattered that one of her whores would be so attentive. But when the novelty wore off, she sold him for a small speeder and two maintenance droids. And yet, still he remembered.

And now, he was remembering the first time he'd initiated this type of intimacy with the young man now pistoning him. He remembered the look in Xanatos' eyes as he brought the boy to his first climax with him, the crooked smile on his lips as he looked up at his master in wonder. "Was that...?" Xanatos had asked in hushed, breathy tones, and Qui-Gon smiled and brushed back his dark hair, saying "Yes, padawan, and it was wonderful..."

He'd initiated their relationship then, teaching Xanatos about his body, his sexuality, about the intimacy between lovers. He remembered all that now, painfully bringing the irony of these moments to the front of his mind.

"You never let me do this to you, old man," Xanatos growled, "not once did you let me fuck you." He gripped Qui-Gon's hips tighter as he continued. "Were you afraid to let me inside?

Qui-Gon closed his eyes tighter, beginning his mental chanting, willing his mind away from his body. 'There is no emotion, there is peace...'

How does it feel now, master... Xanatos asked, pulling him back.

Qui-Gon whimpered, his thoughts more broken apart. 'There is no passion, there is serenity...'

Xanatos' movements became sharper, more spastic. Tell me how it feels... he asked again, each word punctuated by a hard thrust.

Qui-Gon gripped the bedding with shaking fingers. He felt Xanatos reach around his hip and begin stroking his soft shaft. He felt Xanatos touch and tease his most sensitive areas, sending sparks of sensation though his groin. He willed himself not to respond.

I can make you want this, old man.

Qui-Gon bit into the bed linens, feeling the tears burning beneath his lids.

Xanatos slammed into him deeply, and Qui-Gon felt himself flooded with warm wetness. The young man shuddered, thrusting twice more before pulling himself away. Rolling onto the cushion, He dragged Qui-Gon up onto the bed, smoothing his hand over the man's mussed hair.

"You're a good fuck, old man. Perhaps later we can..." A loud knock interrupted them. Xanatos called out, "What is it?"

The door opened and Bant, the Calmarian woman entered. "Ben wants you.

There's a problem." She glanced at Qui-Gon. "What should I do with him?"

Xanatos stood and dressed quickly. "Get him cleaned up, I'll send for him later." Grabbing his cloak, he shot a quick glance at Qui-Gon and turned to leave. Stopping at the door, he turned, smiled and tossed a small object on the bed.

"For your services."

Qui-Gon stared at the blue shell as the door clicked shut.

"On your feet, old man." Bant's voice took a rough edge.

"My clothing..." Qui-Gon mumbled, pulling himself off the bedcushion.

"We're going to the baths, Jinn. You won't need them there." She picked up the shell and examined it closely. "This is Calamari."

Qui-Gon nodded, wincing as fierce pains shot through him. "A gift from a senator who asked me to negotiate a peace accord. He said it would bring me serenity."

Bant grabbed his arm and guided him out of the room. "What was he doing to with it?"

"I..." Qui-Gon sighed. "I gave it to him for his 13th birthday."

Bant smiled slightly. "Ah. The ever important padawan gift. Not that I'd understand any of that."

"You were never chosen."

Bant's expression fell. "I wasn't good enough. Too many knights thought a Calamarian would be too much of a liability in the field. And the only hope for advancement is field work. So, Garen and I were shipped to Teacrux." They entered the large shower areas where Bant positioned Qui-Gon under a nozzle. Moving across from him, she activated the sprays. Warm water washed over Qui-Gon falling over his now sore muscles. Bant seemed to relax as well, her mood becoming unguarded.

"You were sent to the hydrocorps," Qui-Gon continued. "And Kenobi took you?"

Bant hissed at him, her eyes wide. "Ben saved us both. He and Master Xanatos were trading on the planet and felt me in the Force."

"You called him?"

"He found us." She folded her arms over her chest. "Palder drugged us and left us wandering the wastes. Not before they took their pleasure with us of course. Of course, a Calmarian doesn't hold the same attraction a humanoid, so he decided I was expendable. Garen wouldn't leave my side. We were all we had left. He even fought with some of the 'nurturers.'" The last word was spat with utter disgust. "In the end, they left us to die in the lowlands. The wastes." She snorted, "I kept thinking, 'This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't what the Force meant for us.' Garen and I searched the wastes, traveled as far as we could looking for help. And do you know what we found?" She stared into Qui-Gon's eyes, her own eyes flat and expressionless. "Bones. Bones and implants."

"What kind of implants?" Qui-Gon asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The same kind we all get when we're thrown out..." She smiled faintly. "Oh yes, I forgot, you never got one of those implants." She reached over and tilted his head to the side, examining his neck. "Like this one, Jinn. Only yours is a bit more crude... no wonder..."

"What do you mean?" he asked, pulling away.

"We could hear you all they way down in the yards," she said, smiling at his discomfort. "I knew you had a strong mind, but 'la, Jinn..." She eyed him carefully. "And now you're ours."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll understand soon enough." She turned off the water and tossed him a thin towel. "Here, dry off. The knife will be here soon. She's not staying long and Ben wants you tagged."

"Tagged?"

"He wants your implant changed." She tossed him another set of leggings, this pair thinner than the previous ones. "Why, I don't know. I told him it was a bad idea."

Qui-Gon thought about losing what little touch of the Force he still felt and shuddered. "Why doesn't he just kill me?" he mumbled.

"You don't get off that easy." She grabbed his shoulder and led him from the baths. "If the Force meant for you to be dead, we'd not be speaking now."

"You still believe in Force-guided Destiny?" Qui-Gon barely stifled an incredulous laugh. "With all that has happened, you believe you're still serving the Force?" He quickly found himself slammed into the floor, gasping as the breath was squeezed from him.

"How dare you question Force-guided destiny!" she raged, dragging him across the floor. "You put this in motion by going against its will! Or did you think of that?" She smiled in triumph. "You never have..." She laughed then, a chilling laugh. "It's never occurred to you that all of this was your fault, that the Force could be punishing you for challenging destiny! Gods, Ben was right, you blind foolish old man!"

Qui-Gon found himself pressed onto another table, his arms and legs immediately tethered with thick leather straps. He suddenly felt weak, and turned to the Calmarian.

"It's the rock embedded into the table, Jinn. It inhibits whatever Force-sense you have left." Tightening the straps, she smiled down on him. "She'll be right with you, Jinn. Try to relax."

"Please," he whimpered.

"Please what?"

hey would drug him long enough to snap the thin metal band around his neck. He'd never forget the panic that rushed through him, being suddenly lost. At first he indulged in self-pity, before another prisoner literally knocked some sense into him.

"You think your gift makes you special," the young man shouted then. "That with it you're somewhat superior to the rest of us, and without it, you're nothing. Open your eyes. You are what makes your gift special, because of your ability to use it. It's a tool, not a crutch, and until you realize that, you really are nothing."

The young man was right, of course and they found a way out of there. He was not surprised to learn the young man was force-sensitive, but his parents chose not to let him join the Jedi. He remembered the smile on the man's face when he was reunited with his family and wondered, not for the first time, what he'd actually lost and who had made the wiser choice.

When the slaver put the implant into his neck, he'd steeled himself for the loss. What he'd not expected was the whispers of the Force that would haunt him when he least expected. Those hurt most of all.

Kenobi was right. Training all his life, seeing and knowing what was possible, what he could make possible, and not being able to effect any sort of change was devastating. Qui-Gon was a master with several years of experience benefiting him, not an initiate. He knew what he was capable of.

And yet from what he witnessed here, Kenobi was as capable as he was; perhaps more so. If what half Xanatos and Bant said was true, the young man overcame a great deal to accomplish what he had and recruit the allies he did. And if Kenobi's fate was no different from what other rejected initiates faced, what was his order doing?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices in the outside hall. His eyes slid shut and he bit his lip to keep his breathing under control. Panic would not serve him now.

Several minutes passed and the door remained shut. The voices outside were louder, more animated, and from what he could tell, one was Kenobi. The other he suspected was the 'knife.' Perhaps the person was arguing with him about replacing his implant. Healers had a higher code of moral ethics than even Knights did. Perhaps the healer was arguing for Qui-Gon's very life.

Then again, nothing was as it seemed here. Perhaps the knife recommended killing him outright. Save everyone the trouble of having a useless old man around. Or perhaps Xanatos wanted to take Qui-Gon with him and Kenobi and the healer were disagreeing over the precautions to be taken before sending him of with Kenobi's 'master.'

Finally the door slid open and Kenobi walked in, followed by Bant and another young woman, who was still arguing.

"Ben, you're making a mistake. A knight-no, a master is too dangerous to let loose among us. You'll undo all the work..." The young woman's voice faded to whispered recognition. "Master Qui-Gon..."

Qui-Gon turned towards the voice.

"By the gods, we thought you were dead." Qui-Gon blinked slowly as gentle hands turned his head to one side checking the position of the implant.

"Ben, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he isn't 'Master' anything anymore. He's property. My property."

"He's not just property and you and I both know that. What are you trying to prove?"

"You know what I'm trying to do. What we're all trying to do, right Bant?"

"But what does this have to do with anything?" She brushed Qui-Gon's hair away from his neck. "This isn't what we need."

"I know you..." Qui-Gon breathed bringing his eyes slowly into focus.

"Knight Kender, sir" the healer replied, "Master Toth's padawan." She reached into her pouch for a small metallic datapad. "How long have you had the implant?"

"Since I disappeared."

"Almost seven years. How much can you feel?" She laid three fingers over the implant and punched buttons on the pad.

"Hardly anything at all." He drew a slow breath. "Sometimes I can sense emotion, but only when the emotion is intense and nearby." Focusing on her face, he said, "Kender, I do know you. How is your master?"

"Dead." Her voice went flat with pain.

Qui-Gon flinched at the plainly spoken word. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," she responded, never breaking from her ministrations. She began laying out instruments. "Bant can go if she likes. We can handle him."

Kenobi looked at Bant, who nodded, then left the room.

"What are you going to do?"

She glanced at Kenobi and exhaled hard. "Your master wants me to replace your implant with one of ours. I was just advising him it would not be wise."

"Tell him why, Shara," Kenobi drawled.

She shot another look at him, then explained. "As a body gets used to the implant, the midichlorians become less active. Over time they can go completely dormant."

Qui-Gon studied her face, trying to read her expression. "Go on."

"I'm not sure how your body will react to my removing your implant." She sat back on her heels. "Given the amount of time you've had your implant, the ways you used your sensitivity and your midichlorian count, it would be ill advised to do this to you at all. With the abuse to your system, being reopened to the Force would make you violently ill."

"Or drive you completely insane..." Kenobi added, the smile curling on his lips.

Qui-Gon eyed that smile and felt a shudder of fear race through him.

"This is a bad idea, Ben," she advised. Frustrated at his silent smile, she spat, "Dammit, this is Qui-Gon Jinn."

"The reason your master is dead, Shara! The reason a great many knights and an even greater number of initiates are dead!" Kenobi grabbed the laser scalpel from the tray. "But if you don't have the stomach for it... I've seen you do this dozens of times..."

"Ben, no..."

"Please, Knight Kender," Qui-Gon breathed. "I've lived without the Force's touch for so long, I..."

"Alright." She held out her hand. "At least let me apply the topical."

"No."

She turned back to him. "Ben..."

"I said no. He'll need the pain. It'll give him something to focus on. Something to use."

She turned back to Qui-Gon and brushed his hair aside, baring his neck again. Taking a thick wood-handled tool, she pressed it against his lips. "Bite down on this." Then she wiped away the sweat that began to form on his skin.

Burning flesh always had a distinct smell, a thick heavy stench. He'd gotten used to the smell, or thought he had. This time, coupled with the pain of soft tissue burning away, peeling back from itself, feeling a warm trickle of blood, then more pain as the vessels were cut then cauterized, he felt the bile begin to rise in his throat. He bit harder into the soft wood. There is no emotion, there is peace...

"Almost there, Jinn," Kenobi whispered.

The hum of the laser stopped, and then he felt cold metal probing the wound. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled with short whimpers. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge...

"Try to relax," Kender soothed, "it's deep in your muscle tissue. I don't want to tear it.'

Qui-Gon nodded slightly and felt the probe hit the implant, sending a shock through his system. Slamming his eyes shut, he slowly eased up on the wood. There is no passion, there is serenity...

He felt something pull sharply, then release. "Got it, just a bit more" she whispered, slipping a tiny metal disk into its place before taking the sealing tool and closing the wound.

Qui-Gon still felt nothing. Kender wiped his skin with an antiseptic. Kenobi grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the table. "That's enough. Go get Xanatos."

"Ben--"

"Leave us!"

She glanced once more at Qui-Gon, then at Kenobi. They seemed to share a thought, then she gathered her instruments and left.

Kenobi circled the table and undid the restraints. "Get up, Jinn."

Qui-Gon struggled into a sitting position, his arms shaking and a low buzz ringing in his ears. Wincing at the pain, he swung his legs over the side and stood on unsteady feet. Kenobi smiled as his eyes went wide. There is no death, there is the Force, he prayed as the darkness washed over him.

At first, it was believed midichlorians were sentient life forms that existed in a symbiotic relationship with their hosts. It was believed they existed only in chosen highly developed life forms able to understand them. Then science came along and discovered that midichlorians were amplifiers, and that everyone and everything had them. It was the concentration of the midichlorians that determined Force sensitivity.

Therefore the pain Qui-Gon felt was understandable. It was akin to being immersed in sound after being deaf for so long. At first he screamed, echoing the noise flooding his body. Then his body attempted to adjust to this bombardment and he vomited onto the clinic floor. Crumpling to his knees, he cradled his head in his hand as his body slumped to one side. He gasped for breath as Kenobi knelt over him.

"At least you didn't forget to breathe." Kenobi's voice was flat, emotionless.

"Hurts... make it... stop..." Qui-Gon gasped.

"Give it a moment..."

Qui-Gon curled into a fetal position, dragging air into his lungs. His head thudded in his hands, his eyes closed tightly as tears streaked his cheeks. He could feel his heart pound against his ribs, making it even harder to breathe. Concentrate on your breathing, he told himself. Inhale... Exhale...

The noise began to dull, and he brought his focus inward. In his mind, he saw a block. Pale, smooth, alone, it sat in the middle of the din. He examined it as much as the force would allow, then soon another block appeared. And another. And another.

"Good..." Kenobi whispered, kneeling by the older man.

The blocks began multiplying, lining up into a rudimentary shield. It was flimsy, crude, not much better than what a crechling could manage, but it was there. And the din faded.

"There is no emotion, there is..."

"You don't know how wrong you are, old man. Emotion brings us peace."

Qui-Gon watched the young man through slit lids. "Peace," he whispered, gathering his strength, "comes from... control... not from emotion..."

Though Kenobi spoke softly, his voice was overpowering. "Emotion is how we gain control. It allows us to understand motivations, needs, actions. Would the Force have gifted us with emotions if we were not to explore them? Sith, Jinn, we're more aware of emotion because of our sensitivity! It separates us from droids, from machines. Peace comes from the realization that emotion lets us embrace this existence. Control, not denial of our emotions leads to peace." He smiled as Qui-Gon's eyes widened, feeling the effect of his words on the man. "Why would a Jedi choose to put his life in jeopardy in service? What reward does a knight get, save for the respect of his order? We can feel their gratefulness, their joy, yet a Jedi is not to feel as they do. They are to distance themselves from what would bring them closer to others, closer to the Force. The Force unifies us, but with the Jedi doctrine of Practiced Stoicism, how can you truly be unified?"

Qui-Gon let the words spin through his already whirling mind. He couldn't fault the young man's logic. Yet the order and its practices went back several millenia, surely they would have thought of this.

Kenobi continued. " 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' That is the second part of it, isn't it?"

"Surely you don't find fault with that..."

The younger man snorted. "Seeking knowledge? Hardly. But the Jedi don't seek knowledge, they seek justification. They talk about the Force in terms of light and dark, ignoring the middle ground that exists in every situation. Every action they take, every principle they cling to is one-sided, perpetuating the myth that only the light is good, and only the dark is evil. They ignore the people who die because of every treaty they sign, and the ones who survive within the dark. They force peace, just as the dark nurtures chaos. Each side is a contradiction. And every teaching omits the truth that there are always gray areas. And in those areas, we exist. They use their information to justify their existence. We use ours to further ours."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes then and sank back to the floor. He heard the young man kneel next to him.

"As for passion and serenity, without passion, there is no motivation to live. Passion allows us to attempt the impossible. Passion doesn't just allow progress, it demands it. Without passion, there would be no serenity, only complacency. It gives us the will to live, to survive and to carry on. It makes us who we are and leads us where we will go. It is life. Serenity comes from living with our passions, expressing our emotions, and using our knowledge to achieve what we do. Without any of these, there is only death. And the Force is life."

Qui-Gon felt himself question his teaching and learning, not for the first time in his life, but surely for the first time in a great while. And this time was the first time he found no easy answers. In the past, he would turn to his former master. But here, now...

"What do you want from me?"

Obi-Wan smiled then, a genuine smile. "I want you to see who we are."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"We are the Chosen."

Epilogue (One year later):

He watched the viewer with expectation as the image fizzled to life. Qui-Gon Jinn appeared, his eyes clear, a peaceful smile on his lips:

"Greetings my master. As you can see, I survived my captivity and found a way to live. I hope this message finds you well. There is much that has happened since we parted company, much that has changed me, made me see the broader universe before me, and for the first time in a great many years, I feel at peace with my place in it. Perhaps one day, I'll be able to explain this to you though I know it will be many years before we'll meet again. I wished to tell you that though I live, I'll not be returning to you or the order. I have seen too much, learned too many things; I would not be happy within the confines of your beliefs. You would say I've been corrupted, but I believe the Force has opened my eyes and shown me my way. I wish you peace, my master. Until then, the Force is with you."

"Very nice Qui." Mace settled his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "I'll make sure Yoda receives this."

"Thank you, Mace. Are you sure you won't be in any danger delivering this?"

Mace smiled. "None whatsoever." He paused a moment. "We can still set up a private meeting. He has missed you."

"That's alright. If I met with him, I'd not be able to keep us hidden. I'm too weak. Too inexperienced."

"Not for long," Ben chimed in. "Qui, your students are waiting. You are to demonstrate a proper duel for them, remember?"

"Right." Qui-Gon stood and embraced Mace. "If you'll excuse me," he said, then strode confidently to the courtyard. Drawing his saber, he surveyed the many children mirroring his every move with a smile.

"Forgive my tardiness. First position..." he called out.

And the learning began.

~~~fin~~~