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Chapter Three

Pacing a careful three steps behind her Master as usual, Obi-Wan left the hood of her cloak up as they traversed the corridors of the Temple on their way to the Council chambers. When Qui-Gon cast her an inquisitive glance, obviously wondering if she was still feeling shy about her appearance, she murmured, "I'm savoring the privacy. Once this meeting is over, there's probably not going to be much left for either of us."

"Agreed."

From Qui-Gon's expression, he didn't look like he was looking forward to the attention, either. The Padawan population would undoubtedly descend upon Obi-Wan, but as the Master of the transformed apprentice, Qui-Gon would have to deal with the endlessly curious Masters.

Qui-Gon leaned down to address the cloaked figure at his side. "Perhaps we should confer later and decide how much you wish to reveal to strangers?"

"Sounds good to me." From her scathing tone of voice, Obi-Wan left no doubt that she wouldn't want to reveal much.

For the first time in Obi-Wan's memory, she and her Master did not have to wait an hour in the receiving room of the Council Chambers, but were ushered straight before the quorum the moment they arrived. Bowing her head, Obi-Wan smiled grimly to herself, knowing all too well how eager everyone had to be to see her.

[If you think I'm just going to waltz in here and show off, let you stare and prod Qui-Gon as well as at me... You can just forget it. It's *my* transformation, *my* body, and I'm controlling this encounter. With a lot of help from my Master, of course.]

"Gathered, we have, to explore the rumors of your apprentice's transformation," Yoda began gently, as if sensing Obi-Wan's uneasiness at being forced to reveal something so very personal.

"I beg to inform the Council that it is more than rumor," Qui-Gon began in a voice so quiet, that, except for Yoda -- whose ears caught everything -- everyone seated around them had to lean forward to catch his words. "Our mission to Sarsden was a success. As a reward for that success, the king offered us what his handmaiden referred to as a gift. We stand before you to show you what, exactly, that gift consisted of."

Turning slightly, he focused the Council's attention on Obi-Wan, who pushed back the hood of her cloak. Her expression was an exacting study in neutrality as murmurs of dismay and amazement traversed the circle.

Mace Windu gestured a tight circle. "Please turn, Padawan, so that all may see this transformation."

"Take off your cloak, first," added Yoda.

Shrugging out of it, Obi-Wan draped it over one arm.

Yoda shook his head. "We must see all of you, Padawan Kenobi."

Qui-Gon closed the distance between them to take Obi-Wan's cloak. Worried blue eyes met gray-green.

[Are you all right with this?] Qui-Gon asked silently.

[I'll have to be, won't I?]

Leaving Qui-Gon's side, Obi-Wan walked a wide circle around the chamber. Meeting every member's gaze in their turn, she challenged them to... what? Not even she was certain.

[To treat me with respect, certainly. Not to laugh, absolutely. To maintain my dignity, my serenity, without their help or interference. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' Well, you're going to see that *this* Padawan has made his... er, her... peace with the situation and is living in the present. 'There is no passion, there is serenity.' Yep, that's me. So what are you going to make of it?]

The dark-haired beauty called Depa Billaba smiled encouragement as Obi-Wan reached her. Holding out a hand, she murmured, "Could you come here for a moment, Padawan Kenobi?"

She rose as Obi-Wan did as she was bid. Slender fingers touched her face, exploring the bones.

"Whatever method they used to do this," Depa announced to the Council, "the physical results are flawless." Taking Obi-Wan's hands in hers, she studied his frame before addressing Qui-Gon. "From your observations, are the changes limited to the physical?"

Folding his arms, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Obi-Wan's emotions have been affected as well, though I suspect those, too, are related to the physiological changes. His emotions often seem to be driven hormonally, as I believe is common with the human female."

Depa nodded understanding, while Obi-Wan wondered, [What does that mean?]

[It means that you are more emotional as a woman, Padawan. Subject to the whims of the female cycle of hormones.]

[Oh. So that's why I want to cry all of the damned time. Why I get upset sometimes at the drop of a saber for the least little thing.]

[It would seem so.]

[You're having to put up with quite a lot from me, aren't you?]

[Remember that I love you, Obi-Wan. I most certainly do not 'put up' with any part of you.]

"Do you feel that this gift was meant as an attack?" Mace Windu asked.

"No, sir," said Obi-Wan. "It was presented as an honor. However dubious." Quickly, she related the circumstances surrounding the actual change, even as Depa wandered around her, mentally cataloguing the changes.

"Strange way for someone to express their gratitude," muttered Windu. Leaning forward, he stared at Obi-Wan in a way she was finding most uncomfortable.

[He looks like he's hungry, and I'm dinner.]

"What of future delegations to the planet?" Mace asked Obi-Wan. "Will they run into offerings of the same... gifts?"

The Padawan shrugged. "Who can tell? Again, Master Windu, this was meant as a reward for my Master's serving them."

"Yet they did nothing to you, Master Jinn?"

"I was scheduled to be in conference with the king. When this was pointed out, the handmaiden was agreeable that the gift was to be bestowed upon my Padawan. With hindsight, it occurs to me that perhaps they planned it that way."

Obi-Wan returned to her Master's side as Depa completed her delicate inspection. Unobtrusively, the apprentice glided up to stand a little closer to Qui-Gon than was their usual custom before the Council.

"Whatever gift they had chosen to bestow on either of us, we could not have refused it," Qui-Gon pointed out, turning slightly to welcome Obi-Wan beside him.

"Result of that would have been death," acknowledged Yoda. "What sort of gifts have they in store for future visitors, hmm?"

"Did you ask why the gift was given?" Windu asked, his gaze still fastened upon Obi-Wan.

"That was taboo according to their custom."

Yoda offered a sympathetic smile, his eyes softening as they crinkled at the corners. "Sorry we are on your behalf, young Padawan, for this transformation. Changed back, would you wish to be?"

"Of course, my Master." Obi-Wan offered a slight bow. "But the chances of that are very small, I suspect."

"The Council will explore the possibilities," Mace assured, steepling his fingers. "Future delegations will be warned, and we will send a formal notice to the planet saying that these changes are not acceptable by our custom."

"Warned, all visitors must be. This will not be allowed to happen again. Help Obi-Wan, however, this does not," Yoda admitted. "Master Qui-Gon will continue to guide you. A better Master, you could not have."

Obi-Wan stepped closer to the man under discussion and stole a quick, smiling glance up at him. "I'm well aware of that, Master Yoda. If it wasn't for Master Qui-Gon....."

Shrugging, she spread her hands before him, hoping to convey what words could not.

A warm, heavy hand came to rest across her shoulder. "Obi-Wan is handling the transition well. Already, we have begun the training necessary to accommodate her. I am pleased with his progress thus far."

"We look forward to watching you in competition," said Mace, an eager glint in his eyes.

"You may have to wait some time, sir," Obi-Wan said, almost with alacrity at her ability to deny this particular Jedi Master something. "I doubt that I'll be ready to make a public spectacle of myself anytime soon."

[But what a beautiful public spectacle it would be,] Windu's expression said.

Qui-Gon's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"We thank you for your report," said Yoda. "The Force be with you, young Kenobi, as you adjust to your transformation."

Bowing his respect, Obi-Wan went to follow her Master from the Chamber, but halted when Qui-Gon sidestepped to approach Mace Windu.

"Could I speak with you privately for a moment?" Qui-Gon murmured.

Without waiting for the Councilman's answer, Qui-Gon stalked out of the room. Obi-Wan followed quickly in his wake, lest the Council think of more awkward questions to ask. Feeling rather than seeing Windu's surprise at Qui-Gon's unexpected request, Obi-Wan knew that the man was following them both out into the receiving area.

Turning abruptly and without warning, Qui-Gon reached out to steady Obi-Wan when she would have ploughed into him. A tilt of his head, a quick squeeze of his apprentice's shoulder, and Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan safely behind him. Given the "Me Master, you Padawan," glint in his eye, Obi-Wan obeyed that command without hesitation. That particular expression was usually reserved for times of great danger outside the Temple walls. She most remembered it from years before, when she'd been smaller, younger, and less able to defend herself at Qui-Gon's side.

"You wished to speak in private, Qui-Gon?"

"I did." Qui-Gon's quiet voice was in direct contradiction to the animosity Obi-Wan sensed was seething just beneath the surface. "You have been less than subtle in your attraction to my apprentice."

Windu's jaw slackened in surprise, but Obi-Wan could feel the truth of her Master's words. "Qui-Gon­"

[So *that's* why his staring made me feel so twitchy in there,] Obi-Wan realized. [There's so much that I totally miss in this new body, but Qui-Gon seems to pick right up on it. How does he *do* that? I'm still worrying about the situation, trying to figure it out, while he's already in there dealing with it.]

"Right now, your interest is manifesting itself only in your desire to watch Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, you were also instrumental in informing certain members of the Council -- in an untimely, totally unofficial and inappropriate manner -- of private matters regarding events affecting my Padawan. You also showed a blatantly selfish disregard for traditional Jedi training methods by invading our practice session yesterday afternoon."

Shoving back the edges of his cloak, Qui-Gon stretched to his full majestic height -- about four inches taller than Windu. Placing his hands on his belt, Qui-Gon took a step forward. Windu took a step back. Circling around the two men, Obi-Wan sought a better view than the one offered at her Master's back.

"I am speaking with you now in an effort to ensure that your interest goes no further," the Jedi Master said softly. "The caress of your eyes will not evolve into a caress of another kind -- do I make myself clear?"

Qui-Gon's hand rested lightly upon the hilt of his lightsaber. The implication was clear.

"I woudn't--"

"Quite right. You wouldn't. Have I your promise, then?"

Windu's gaze flickered briefly from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. It was one thing to discover yourself desiring an imminently attractive young Padawan whose fire you'd always admired, who now possessed a fresh feminine beauty, the likes of which you'd -- literally -- never seen before. It was quite another thing to discover that the Master protecting the beauty was quietly snarling in your face, as fierce and possessive as any Velde lion prepared to fight for its mate.

[Jinn has the power, strength and determination to back this up right here, if need be,] Windu realized, [and he will if I don't make the right noises.]

Glancing back at Qui-Gon, Windu caught sight of something just beneath the Master's left ear. [What the--]

Squinting slightly, Windu focused on the thing and realized it for what it was: hidden deep in the strands of Qui-Gon's mane was a miniature version of the Padawan braid. [There's absolutely no way that Qui-Gon put that there himself. Which leaves only one other person who'd dare try it. And one reason why they'd want it there.] It was all Windu could do to keep from grinning at Obi-Wan over Qui-Gon's shoulder. [The little lioness lies down with her mate; who am I to try to come between that?]

Backing up another two steps, Windu raised his hands in simple surrender and grinned. "You have my promise, Master Jinn. Your apprentice is safe from me."

Backing even further away from Qui-Gon, as if he didn't want to chance turning his back on the Jedi Master, Mace Windu activated the doors leading back into the Council Chamber. Qui-Gon didn't move until the Councilman was well away, with the doors sliding closed behind him.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured softly. "I think."

Still, Qui-Gon didn't relax. Turning his head, he regarded Obi-Wan, who noted that his jaw was set, the look in his eyes was still fierce.

[He's definitely more warrior than diplomat right now,] she realized. [Best to be cautious.]

"I don't believe that I could have handled that myself, Master," she ventured softly, daring to close the distance between them and lay her hand on Qui-Gon's arm. [Calm... The danger is gone now.] "I didn't even realize he wanted me."

Qui-Gon gave a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're used to being the predator, Obi-Wan. Not the prey. But no matter; you shouldn't experience any trouble from that quarter." Turning, he bowed slightly and gestured his Padawan before him. "After you."

Not wanting to debate the everlasting issue of 'Who goes first: the Master or the Apprentice?' Obi-Wan did as she was bid. Moving from the Council chambers and out into the corridor, she then moved aside and slowed momentarily to let her Master step up beside her.

"Are you ready to build another lightsaber?" Qui-Gon asked companionably, shedding his fierce mood as easily as he would shed his cloak.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's eyes shown with what could only be called reserved glee. Fighting with the wrong-sized saber was like fighting while wearing the wrong-sized shoes: too little and it could hurt a lot; too big and if she blundered, she could die. Given the new strategies she was determined on trying later in the day, a perfect fit was an absolute necessity.

"We're not going to the student lab?" she asked when Qui-Gon led her past the lengthy Temple corridor leading across the concourse and into the Jedi Academy.

"I have somewhere else in mind."

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan into a Temple tower that she'd never seen before, over to a bank of elevators and downward. Deep into the new tower they went, past checkpoints near which Obi-Wan knew she wouldn't have been allowed to breathe without Qui-Gon. Nodding briefly at each guard, her Master was silently allowed entrance, with only the occasional raised eyebrow offered to question the presence of the apprentice at his side.

Subdued lighting, like that in Qui-Gon's own chambers, replaced the hard white light Obi-Wan was accustomed to. Austere decor gave way to more elegant furnishings; a tapestry from Jykstra here, a sculpture gifted from Naboo there. Branching off of the main corridor they traveled were small meditation gardens, complete with benches, fountains and windchimes, offering total privacy in every atmosphere a Jedi Master could want.

"It's beautiful here," she whispered to Qui-Gon, and then caught the disapproving eye of another Jedi Master who was sitting on one of the hallway's benches and glowering as though Qui-Gon were escorting a particularly nasty kind of insect past him.

"I suppose it is." Qui-Gon offered the disapproving Master a respectful nod before sliding a hand across Obi-Wan's shoulders and guiding her closer to him.

Opposite the gardens, an ancient and very out-of-place wooden door was ensconced in a steelite wall. Punching an access code into the pad beside the door, Qui-Gon lifted the black iron latch and shoved his weight against it. The door swung back slowly, with Qui-Gon ushering Obi-Wan inside as yet another, passing Jedi Master shot them a questioning glower.

"Are you sure it's all right for me to be here?" Obi-Wan whispered, noticing that the door Qui-Gon was now closing was about four inches thick. [Where did that thing come from? And how long has it been here?]

"As long as I am with you, Padawan, you are welcome anywhere in the Temple," Qui-Gon murmured, closing the door while Obi-Wan waited in the small, dark corridor beyond.

"That's not what five pairs of Jedi Master eyes told me on the way here."

"You no longer look like yourself, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon reminded her. "The Masters we have encountered no doubt suspect that I have led a stranger into their sacred corridors. Either they will soon learn of your transformation and your identity, or I will deal with their comments later."

He sounded casual and unconcerned, and Obi-Wan suspected that she should take Qui-Gon at his word. [He'll handle it,] she concluded. [Probably with the same icy calm as he handled Mace Windu.]

"It's not yet general knowledge what's happened to you," Qui-Gon continued, leading the way down the narrow corridor, past a string of solid grey steelite doors. "If I visited the Academy lab with a beautiful young woman and we constructed a lightsaber together, you know that the students would talk." Pausing at a particular door, Qui-Gon wrapped a finger around Obi-Wan's braid and tugged gently, teasing. "Especially if I address the beautiful young woman as Obi-Wan, or if she calls me Master."

"I see your point."

Obi-Wan eyed the brass nameplate on the door her Master was keying open. *Qui-Gon Jinn,* it read.

"This room is yours? What's it for?"

"You'll see." The door slid back. With a faint smile, Qui-Gon ushered Obi-Wan inside. "After you, my Padawan."

The lights came up as she stepped across the threshold, only to stop dead. Eyes widening with startled delight, she breathed, "Oh... wow."

Behind her, Qui-Gon chuckled softly. "Would you mind taking a mere two more steps into the room, please?"

"Sorry." Obi-Wan did as she was asked, allowing Qui-Gon's broad frame entrance as well. Turning in place, she surveyed the small, very private lab.

"Wow..." she whispered again, gazing on a spotless workbench, a wall full of top-of-the-line tools, and a storage cage containing row upon row of raw parts and the supplies necessary to do everything from building a service droid to outfitting a hyperdrive.

Standing before a wall panel, Qui-Gon punched a button. To the left of the workbench, an accordian shield folded neatly up into the ceiling. A clear glass window was revealed, which looked out onto a private ship's hangar. The view afforded was all too familiar to Obi-Wan -- except that she'd always seen it from another angle, when she and her Master had entered through the arched entry at the other side of the quadrant housing their quarters. Before the window was Qui-Gon's personal starship, the *Marauder.* She sat, sleek and blue and elegant in her private berth, patiently awaiting her Master's pleasure.

"Nice view," Obi-Wan observed dryly. "Now I know how you always managed to so quickly come up with those replacement parts you wanted me to install." Shaking her head, Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon, who'd come to join him before the window. "I can't believe that you've brought me here to build a lowly apprentice's lightsaber."

Qui-Gon shrugged out of his cloak, set it on a peg beside the door. "My lab is meant to be used, Obi-Wan."

"Yeah, but--"

"But what?" Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's cloak even as he waited patiently for his Padawan to put the words together.

"I feel... so... *unworthy* of this."

"The lightsaber you make will not be." Setting Obi-Wan's cloak atop his own, Qui-Gon called out, "Theron, attend."

Immediately, a pit droid leaped down from the top of the parts cage, unfolded itself, and bounded over to Qui-Gon. Chattering excitedly, it bowed briefly before unfolding its metal claws and awaiting its Master's commands.

"We're building a lightsaber. Bring the necessary parts, including a set of at least five smaller casings from which we will choose. You'll have to visit exterior Stores to get the casings, as those we have on hand are too big."

A series of enthusiastic whistles met that command.

"Carry on, then."

Grabbing a lab tray, the pit droid threw back the door of the storage cage and began digging into the first series of boxes.

"Theron huh?" Obi-Wan murmured as the tray was returned to them, complete with an abundant selection of power cells, small insulation packets, tiny metal knobs, wiring, and other required bits and pieces. "A name which translates to, I assume, 'the hunter'?"

Qui-Gon gave a crooked smiled and gestured for his apprentice to seat herself on one of the stools before the workbench. "Can you think of a better name for one that fetches and carries?"

Opening a drawer, the Jedi Master brought forth a set of small screwdrivers, guides and wrenches. "You'll be needing these, I believe." Taking the stool opposite Obi-Wan, he handed over the tool set, then leaned back and folded his arms. "You do remember how to build a lightsaber?"

"If I don't, you can ship me off to Agricorps." She favored him with a wry grin. "I'd be a pretty sorry apprentice if I couldn't do this."

"Agreed. Which is why I asked." Reaching down, he tugged on her braid again.

Obi-Wan rubbed the side of his head. "Master, I wish you wouldn't do that. You know it's not a leash, and it's annoying."

"Which is why I do it. Here are your casings, I believe."

Theron plunked another tray between Master and Apprentice. Metal rattled against metal, with the skeletal cylinders gleaming spotlessly up at them.

"Doesn't look much like a lightsaber to me." She frowned, then intoned solemnly, "And so it begins. Query One: Is Jedi Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi capable of selecting his... pardon me, her... hilt casing without the expert advice of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn? We'll keep you informed."

"Sarcasm does not become you, my Padawan."

"Consider it revenge for your abusing my braid."

Rolling the first casing back and forth in the tray, she didn't even bother picking it up. The two beside it were inspected more closely, only to be rejected as well. As were the remaining two.

"Are there any others where these came from?" Obi-Wan plaintively asked the pit droid, who simply stared up at her, non-comprehending. "Huh. I guess you only take instruction from our Master. Sort of like me?"

"What, exactly are you looking for?" asked Qui-Gon, a faint warning in his voice. While the aesthetic look of a lightsaber was important, it wasn't important enough to send a droid endlessly scouring the Temple supplies for just the right design.

"I want one that looks like yours."

Startled silence met that announcement. After a long moment, Qui-Gon murmured, "You could have said so in the first place, Padawan."

"And miss astonishing you?"

Qui-Gon shot his Padawan a look that said, *Behave.* "Theron, attend," he ordered. "Bring us 24-, 26- and 28-gauge duplicates of my casing FP32-ZB9."

Snatching the tray of rejected casings, the droid bounded off. Less than two minutes later, it returned with the new ones. Obi-Wan hefted the smallest, only to find it was too small. In the end, she settled on the 26-gauge casing.

"You can always refit it later it you do not like it," suggested Qui-Gon. "I'll keep the larger one on hand, just in case."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured, sounding distracted as she had already turned her attention to cracking open the casing and fitting insulation around the new diatium power cell.

Moving aside the belt ring, she took the grounding wire Qui-Gon offered and attached it to the metal ring as a safety precaution. *She* wouldn't be the one to accidentally -- make that stupidly -- short out the power cell and delicate crystals before they'd even had the chance to perform.

Crouching over the casing and all but blocking Qui-Gon's supervisory view so that he had to inch his stool closer, Obi-Wan installed the insulation, diatium cell, dual plasma-pack and necessary wiring to connect the three.

Qui-Gon noticed that his apprentice had a habit of sticking her tongue out between her teeth in concentration while she worked. [A childhood habit? Definitely an endearing one.] Her thigh to Qui-Gon's thigh, she rubbed against him as she worked carefully for long minutes beneath her Master's watchful gaze, but seemed oblivious to their touching. Qui-Gon, however, was not.

"I thought this would be easier with small fingers," Obi-Wan murmured in a voice that Qui-Gon was only just beginning to realize was still one of the most seductive he'd ever heard.

"I suspect that it would be easier only if you were working on a saber whose size matched your original."

Their fingers brushed as Obi-Wan took the crimpers Qui-Gon offered and began connecting the wires to their appropriate connectors.

"Blue wire to the blue plasma-house," she murmured in that voice -- so soothing when she'd been a man and so lethal to Qui-Gon's senses now that she was athe wires. Sliding a companionable arm across her Master's shoulders, Obi-Wan leaned against him and watched avidly.

"For a big man, you do very delicate work," she murmured into Qui-Gon's ear.

"Practice," the Master admitted, without reluctance or embarrassment. "You've no idea how many of these things I've had to build. Or rebuilt. But never one so small, my Padawan."

Turning his head, Qui-Gon smiled. Lining up the blue and red wires, he used the crimpers to twist them together, and then ran them down the center of the casing, which made them fit neatly between the plasma houses.

"That's an elegant way to do it." Draped across Qui-Gon's shoulder in her determination not to miss a single technique or hint that her Master might share, Obi-Wan's cheek caressed his. Her breasts were crushed against Qui-Gon's shoulder-blades, her breath was warm on his skin. Obi-Wan's nearness felt so good and so right that Qui-Gon's body insistently demanded more.

Gritting his teeth, the Jedi Master focused on the lightsaber. Over the next few minutes, Obi-Wan murmured questions, observations, and sweet appreciations into his ear, which had the effect of gently and steadily encouraging his arousal. [If Obi-Wan keeps this up, I'm going to seduce him within an inch of his life once we're finished here.]

"Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden?" she asked in all innocence, her breath stirring Qui-Gon's hair and nearly making him leap off of the bench as his erection swelled another inch. Or two.

"Fatigue," he drawled, shifting in discomfort and not believing the excuse any more than his Padawan would. "I believe it's time you chose your focusing crystals, Obi-Wan."

"Oh, yeah." Instead of backing away from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan simply leaned harder against him and slid the tray of supplies closer.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and nearly moaned when Obi-Wan's left hand caressed the back of his neck in an effort to maintain her balance. Reaching down, the apprentice dipped her free hand into the tray. Palming each quartz crystal in its turn, she closed her eyes and concentrated on its energy.

"These two, I think." She dropped them into the palm of Qui-Gon's waiting hand.

Staring down at them, the Master hesitated for a moment, as though lost in thought. Half of him was trying to tame his massive need so that his fingers would stop shaking; the other half of him was very soberly considering defying thousands of years of Jedi tradition concerning the crystals in a Padawan's lightsaber.

"Select a third crystal," he finally instructed. "A smaller one."

"Another?" Obi-Wan questioned, her natural voice all but a purr at Qui-Gon's ear. "Master, do I need a blade that long?"

Qui-Gon winced as Obi-Wan's tone and its innocent innuendo shot straight between his legs.

"It won't affect the blade length." [Though you're definitely affecting mine,] he thought. "Theron, attend. Bring me the freshest JD30 circuit you can locate."

"I've never heard of that circuit," said Obi-Wan, selecting another crystal as she'd been instructed. "What is it?"

"Coupled with the third crystal, it's what makes my lightsaber more powerful than yours. It will let you drive the blade through the strongest blast door, or through a series of them if need be." Qui-Gon cast Obi-Wan an ironic look. "It also will prevent your weapon from expiring underwater. And it has a few more special features we'll discuss as they come up."

Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon the third crystal before resuming her place at her Master's shoulder. "I've heard legends about that sort of thing. But isn't it against tradition for me to have something like that until I'm a Master?"

"I care more about keeping you safe than honoring tradition right now," Qui-Gon murmured as he set the first crystal low in the power cell housing and the second one just above it. The third, he placed carefully between the blade-power adjust module and a power vortex ring sized specifically for its purpose. It was delicate work for such huge hands, and he was pleased that his fingers were once more steady, no matter his inner turmoil.

"I am breaking no strict Code ruling, giving this to you," he said. "I am merely hedging your bets in battle. Still, it might be wise if neither of us mentions this... enhancement... where Temple ears may hear."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shuddered. [By all the gods... that voice.] His arousal grew. Sliding off of the stool and out of the circle of his Padawan's arms, he decided that his apprentice could finish his own lightsaber. "Obi-Wan...."

Obi-Wan frowned at Qui-Gon's desperate tone, even as the Master brushed a finger down Obi-Wan's throat.

"You might want to give some thought to changing the timbre of your voice."

"I'm sorry, Master," came the automatic apology before confusion filled his eyes. "Wha-at? Why?"

"It can have a certain effect on... people."

Narrowed gray-green eyes locked into his. "No one's complained before. You've never complained before, so what's the problem? You used to find my voice very relaxing, and said so many times."

Knowing there was nothing for it but to explain in the clearest way possible, Qui-Gon sighed and took on of Obi-Wan's hands in his. "Your voice is not relaxing me very much right now, my Padawan."

Guiding that hand beneath the edge of his tunic and up between his legs, Qui-Gon held it there for a long moment -- more than time enough for Obi-Wan to feel his ever-increasing need.

Snatching back her hand as Qui-Gon surged against her palm, Obi-Wan blushed furiously. "The sound of my voice is enough to do that to you?"

"Yes."

"I... er..." She tangled her hands through her hair. "Master, do you want me to apologize? By the Sith, I swear I'll never say another word to you."

Qui-Gon's startled laughter filled the room. Reaching out, he tugged once more on Obi-Wan's braid. "Making a man want you is not necessarily a bad thing, Obi-Wan. Rather, it's a power you possess. One of which you need to be aware, to use as you see fit."

"But if it's all wrapped up in how I talk, then it's part of me all of the time. I don't mean to arouse you, Master. I can stop walking around naked in front of you, but I truly don't know how to talk any other way."

Obi-Wan said it with simple honesty, in *that voice*. Again. Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon clenched his fists, arched strongly, and moaned.

Obi-Wan eyed him and offered a sympathetic grin. "Worse, huh?"

"It's getting there."

She considered her Master's predicament. "When you kissed me in the training room yesterday, were you wanting to make love to me then as you do now?"

"Yes." A quiet, honest admission, with blue eyes pleading for understanding.

"What about last night, when I was running around naked?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan thought about that. "Then why was your wanting me alright in the training room, but not last night, and not now?"

The question jolted him. "Obi-Wan--"

"Either I somehow make you want me and it's alright, or it's not alright." Leaning up against the workbench, she considered the matter. "You're sending mixed signals, Master, and you can't have it both ways."

That voice, again.

"Padawan, please!" Qui-Gon's own voice was all but a whisper, pleading for mercy.

"Please, what?" she asked softly, deliberately using the tone she now knew would affect Qui-Gon so powerfully. Pushing away from the workbench, she approached with the confident swagger Qui-Gon knew so well. "Please don't undress before you? Please become a mute? Or, please, would I acknowledge what you're feeling and give you permission to act on it? If that's not what you want, then why'd you put my hand... here?"

Reaching both hands beneath the tunic, Obi-Wan cradled her Master boldly, yet carefully, with one hand above, one below.

"The nice thing about leggings is that they're totally form-fitting," Obi-Wan murmured, leaning closer, "beautifully outlining the target one wishes to impact."

Impact it, she did. Standing stiffly before his apprentice, Qui-Gon ground his words out between gritted teeth and let Obi-Wan's hands be there.

"You're quite right, Obi-Wan. I *am* sending mixed signals, while you are quite simply... feeling... your way in a strange new world." [Pun intended, young Padawan, and please don't tease, or you may wish that your lightsaber had exploded in your hands, rather than me.] You're being yourself, and I'm reacting to that."

Offering a sad, lost smile, Qui-Gon wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's wrists and gently disentangled her hands. Bringing them to his lips, he braced them against his chest. The better to keep them out of trouble.

"I want you because I love you, Obi-Wan. What you have become affects me as well as you. I can't help reacting to your nearness, just as you can't help being who you are. That... person... just happens to arouse me."

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't know how I can change my voice, Master. I'm not even sure I want to try."

"It was wrong of me to ask it. Don't change who you are, Obi-Wan, for you are truly special whether you're wrapped in the body of a man or a woman. I have had these feelings for you for a very long time."

Clenching her hands between Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan stared up at her Master. "You've...what?" When Qui-Gon did not elaborate, but simply looked down at her calmly, Obi-Wan added, "Coming from you, Master, that's quite an admission."

He shrugged. "Your body has a mind of its own, my apprentice. Mine does, too. Especially where you're concerned."

"Even when I was *male*?" She sounded incredulous.

"Even then," Qui-Gon acknowledged.

She shook her head. "I had no idea."

"I never dared to tell you."

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. "Then it's me you want, and not just the body?"

"It would appear so, as what I feel is determined to manifest no matter what body you are in. But Obi-Wan, you are the only man or woman in my life who has made me feel this way. The difference in our ages, the relationship we have as Master and Apprentice... All argue against our becoming involved with each other."

"So that's why you didn't tell me? You maintained a balance and just... endured, before?"

He nodded.

"You never would have told me about this?"

"Not unless it became impossible for me to bury what I feel -- which it appears to have done. My body responds much more quickly to your nearness, now. And there's the added impulse I feel to protect you. It's all entwined, Obi-Wan, and while I can control it, I don't know how to stop it."

She stood silently for a long moment. "Master, if nothing happens by chance, did it ever occur to you that the Force may have intended this for both of us? Perhaps I've wound up in this body specifically so that we can resolve our feelings for each other."

"When the solution presents itself, don't throw it away?" Qui-Gon ventured. "Do you believe I'm resisting what I feel when I really don't need to? Are you suggesting that I should act on my feelings where you are concerned?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "You're still the Master and I'm the Padawan, so I wouldn't presume to tell you what you should do, but you're the one who's always telling me to feel, don't think. If *you* use your instincts, what do they tell you to do where I'm concerned?"

Qui-Gon drew a deep, anxious breath. "I'm not sure you want to know, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's eyes held no little exasperation. "Master, there's nothing you could do to me that I haven't wanted to do, or haven't already done, with a woman."

Qui-Gon's reply came almost on a growl. "As you wish, Padawan."

Sliding one arm around Obi-Wan's waist, Qui-Gon ground her against him in a bone-crushing embrace, so tightly that the air rushed from Obi-Wan's lungs. Bending over her, Qui-Gon took her mouth just as she thought, [I can't breathe.]

[I'll breathe for you,] came Qui-Gon's voice in her mind, companioning his more than obvious physical need. Obi-Wan's feet left the floor; neither one of them cared. This kiss was nothing like the probing one they'd shared the day before: Obi-Wan recognized and responded to the demanding, barely contained arousal Qui-Gon was battling.

[If you stop, I'll scream,] she warned through their link, being careful to let amusement trickle through as well, hoping it would diffuse the ferocity of her Master's desire.

Qui-Gon answered on a growl, shuddering as he devoured Obi-Wan's mouth and moved on to her jaw and her ear. Seizing her earlobe, Qui-Gon sucked and nuzzled and lapped until Obi-Wan gasped and arched hard against him.

[So, you like that?] Qui-Gon purred back through the bond, totally disinterested in calming himself. [If I continue, my Obi-Wan, you may scream, anyway. I have that affect sometimes.]

[Arrogant....] Obi-Wan shot back the word even as another thought occurred to her. [Wha... Who? *WHO* have you had that affect on?] Burying her fingers in Qui-Gon's hair, she yanked. Hard.

A chuckle rumbled against her. Breaking the kiss, Qui-Gon smiled down at her. His eyes were the deepest blue Obi-Wan could ever remember seeing them. Darkened with passion, they left no doubt that she was wanted.

"Jealousy does not become you, my Padawan."

"Who *was* she?" Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon arched experimentally. Distracted from asking, Obi-Wan sighed. "That's very, very nice...."

Qui-Gon arched harder and rubbed, seeking to increase the friction. Sliding his hands across the small of Obi-Wan's back, he cupped her hips and tilted them upward, more firmly against him.

Returning Obi-Wan's feet to the floor, Qui-Gon began kissing her again. Sucking on Obi-Wan's lower lip and winding his fingers through the short hair, Qui-Gon drove all thought of the supposed past competition right out of Obi-Wan's mind.

"Gods, but I need you...." Obi-Wan managed to groan out. Frantic to touch Qui-Gon, she slid her hands beneath the older man's tunics, scratched through the hair on his chest, and found a sensitive nipple. Shoving aside the fabric, she fastened hungry lips there.

Qui-Gon was thrusting steadily against Obi-Wan by now -- instinctive, mindless thrusts that sent Obi-Wan's own desire spiraling upward to meet him. Releasing his nipple with reluctance, she whimpered.

"Closer -- Master, please? Clothes...off...." She sounded almost childlike as she struggled with the hateful layers of material. "Want you."

"Not here," gasped Qui-Gon, breathlessly feathering kisses along Obi-Wan's temple and lifting her hard against him once more, for the pure pleasure of feeling her so close and yet so far. His frustration flooded the link they shared. "Not now. Here...it's all wrong. You deserve better."

It was Obi-Wan's turn to laugh. "Master, I don't need candles and wine. I don't want them!"

"Perhaps I do." Returning his Padawan's feet to the floor, Qui-Gon disentangled her fingers and tried to look stern. But with his hair in disarray, his lips reddened by their kisses, and his nipple damp from Obi-Wan's mouth, the Jedi Master failed miserably.

Setting his apprentice well away from him, Qui-Gon reached for some tattered semblance of control. Watching him silently for a moment, Obi-Wan realized, [All I have to do is say something -- almost anything, up to and including asking him the time of day -- and he'll be writhing for me. For ME. That's pretty special. And pretty scary. Not a responsibility I ever would have sought.] But she had it now, and would guard it -- and her Master's vulnerability as he needed Obi-Wan so badly -- with everything she was.

"You're shaking," Obi-Wan observed, once Qui-Gon had visibly worked through a quick series of exercises to calm his breathing, and was refusing to look at her.

"You're right." Yanking the hair tie out of his hair, he stared down at his trembling fingers. "By all of the hundred tiny gods of Endor, Obi-Wan, what are you doing to me?"

"Loving you," she answered simply. "You've never lost control with a woman before, have you?"

"No." Growled. "And I don't plan to start now."

Obi-Wan could feel and see the immense effort it took for her Master to gather the shreds of his passion-shattered being, focus in the living Force once again and turn, with courage, to face his Padawan. The enormity of his desire, screaming for release, made Obi-Wan realize that, had she never been a man, she wouldn't have understand the immense control it was taking for Qui-Gon to deal with the situation.

[Were it me in his place, could I find the same courage and control?] she wondered.

"Would you mind putting this where it belongs?" Qui-Gon offered up the wayward hair tie.

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shivered.

"Sorry. That voice again, huh?" Taking the hair tie, Obi-Wan was careful not to touch Qui-Gon's bare skin. Stepping behind him, she tapped dispassionately on his shoulder. "You're too tall. As usual."

He knelt for her. Working swiftly, almost roughly, Obi-Wan finger-combed through the thick strands of hair for the second time that day and gathered them together beneath their respectable fastening.

[What is so amazing about this entire scenario is that *I'm* just fine,] Obi-Wan considered. [Of course I want him, too. Of course I'm looking forward to our picking up where he left off -- and hopefully soon. But I'm nowhere near the state he's in. I guess it really doesn't take much to get to a man... any man. They say women react differently, but I'm just beginning to understand what a drastic understatement that is.]

"All done." Obi-Wan patted her Master companionably on the shoulder. "I need to finish my lightsaber. Do you want to wait for me here, or take a walk?"

Rising to his feet once more, Qui-Gon did not turn around. Gathering his cloak from beneath Obi-Wan's, he announced, "I am going to the meditation garden just across the hall. The lights here will extinguish themselves, the door will lock behind you automatically when you leave. Theron will store himself. When you have finished, you will let me know?"

"Yes, Master."

Palming the door control, Qui-Gon sighed deeply and left without a backward glance.

[He's leaving to survive, not because he's slighting me,] Obi-Wan realized. Through the bond, he sent, [I love you, my Master.]

[As I love you, my Obi-Wan. Always,] came the weary, half-embarrassed reply.

"A vision of eternity, like a dream,
A fantasy of old,
The keeper of my sanctity, now it seems
The Master of my soul."
­Miriam Stockley, "Miriam"

Chapter One

*He's in here.* Obi-Wan confirmed the presence of her Master's aura within the small meditation garden before slipping through the door. It wouldn't do for her to walk in on the wrong Jedi Master.

Save for the gurgle of a small stream tumbling through the private space, the moss and ivy garden was insulated and quiet. Tiptoeing down the stone path, Obi-Wan found Qui-Gon sitting cross-legged next to the stream. Eyes closed, breathing practically non-existent, he was deep in trance. Sinking down beside him, Obi-Wan followed his example, letting the sound of the water wash over her until she merged with it.

Tension she'd acquired while hunched over the workbench flowed out of her shoulders to be carried away by the sound of the water. Her fingers and toes tingled as a more efficient blood-flow established itself, and she found herself smiling slightly as she flowed ever deeper into the meditation.

[I know that meditation isn't meant to be an escape from the real world,] she reflected, [but *damn* this is nice!]

[It is, isn't it?] Qui-Gon's mental voice intruded. [Perhaps we should install a fountain in our own garden?]

[I'm sorry. Was I projecting too strongly?]

[No. I was listening for you. I have completed my meditation, Obi-Wan, and am prepared for our practice session. Let me know when you are ready.]

[Yes, Master.]

For a few more minutes, she took advantage of the uncommon luxury of sitting and doing nothing, being one with the water and the Force. [I probably won't set foot in another garden like this for twenty years -- until after I've trained my own apprentice and become a Master... Hah. That time is far and away.]

Seconds later, she remembered the new lightsaber at her side and eagerly began resurfacing. Opening her eyes, she found her Master sitting as he had been, but now his blue eyes were open. He wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he'd been watching Obi-Wan, and from the longing and hunger in his expression, Obi-Wan suspected that Qui-Gon was still aroused. More than that, if she reached through their bond... just over there... he could feel Qui-Gon... pulsing.

Unable to resist offering a mischievous smile, Obi-Wan asked, "Are you going to be able to practice in your current state?"

"Yes."

"Do you want an ice bath first?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his gaze. "What happened to the traditional cold shower?"

Obi-Wan shook her head and tried to look mournful. "I think you're beyond that."

Another heavy sigh was his only answer. Getting gracefully to his feet, Qui-Gon offered a hand to help up his apprentice. If that hand was hotter than normal, Obi-Wan wasn't surprised.

"I would protest that you don't understand, but...." Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow.

"You'd be wrong." Taking the hand he offered, Obi-Wan rose and leaned up on tiptoe to grin and kiss the bearded cheek.

The first thing Obi-Wan noticed when they walked into their usual practice room is that the door had been repaired.

"Did anyone say anything to you about this?" Obi-Wan asked, running a hand over the new paneling.

Qui-Gon cast an innocent glance over his shoulder. "Say anything about what?"

Shrugging out of his cloak, Qui-Gon began warming up. Obi-Wan followed suit, completing her exercises beside Qui-Gon and noticing that the Master closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch Obi-Wan. She grinned, sympathetic to her Master's plight, but also a bit proud that she'd been the one to inspire it. [I'm not sure what you see in me, but...Nice to know you like it.]

"All right," she murmured. "Let's see just exactly what this body can do."

Leaving behind the new lightsaber, she paused on the edge of the mat while Qui-Gon deliberately lagged behind. Throwing herself into a series of flips and aerial maneuvers, she used the entire room while Qui-Gon waited at a safe distance.

Unable to resist, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and began watching. After completing one furious routine, Obi-Wan paused to catch her breath. With hands on hips, she paced in a circle and panted, considered the proficiencies and deficiencies in what she'd just done. Moving experimentally into a second routine, she performed an even more demanding series of tumbling and aerial half-twists before starting over and doing it all again.

This time, she double-timed it. Her speed and ferocity made Qui-Gon all but stop breathing.

"Shouldn't you slow down?" he called across the mat.

"No need!" Obi-Wan shouted back, spinning and tumbling in the air, totally fearless. "Master, this is *fantastic!*"

She seemed to defy gravity. Drawing the Force around her like an intricate web of support, she executed flawless maneuvers for the sheer pleasure of flying and falling, and laughed as the new body responded perfectly.

Smiling despite himself, Qui-Gon continued to watch. [Obi-Wan has loved this sort of thing since before I met him, certainly,] Qui-Gon reminded himself. Years before, he hadn't been proficient enough to train his Padawan in this area, and so had obtained the help of two of the finest gymnastic trainers serving at the Temple. 'Force-enhanced flight,' they'd called it.

[Flashy, but effective,] Qui-Gon called it. [Even I have to admit that.]

Within fifteen minutes, Obi-Wan had discovered that she could propel herself much further and higher than before. [I can go in tight, add extra spins, distance, whatever. This is going to work out just fine.] She wasn't about to tell her Master that; let Qui-Gon discover it on the practice mat in a few minutes.

After only half an hour, Obi-Wan knew her new body for what it was: coiled energy untouched, lighter and more compact than what she had had as a man; young and eager, ready and willing to answer her every command. Grinning from ear to ear, she finished and padded across the mat to bow respect and readiness to her Master.

Picking up Obi-Wan's new lightsaber where it laid atop her cloak, Qui-Gon activated it. "Shall we test this?"

"Absolutely." Wiping the sweat from around her neck, Obi-Wan started to take the weapon.

"A moment. Let me--"

"Master--" she began to protest, ready to remind Qui-Gon that she'd been trained to test them as well as to build them.

"I do not doubt your abilities," he intercepted the thought. "Far from it. But I know what to expect, what the saber should feel like. Let me make sure that it is functioning properly, please?"

Obi-Wan nodded acquiescence and schooled herself to be patient. There was only one problem: because of his large hands, Qui-Gon couldn't get a proper grip on the smaller hilt. It was far too small for him to fit all of his fingers around it, and Obi-Wan smiled to see him attempt to do just that.

"Problem, Master?"

"You're intolerably small," he grumbled. "I'll have to use this one-handed."

Obi-Wan nodded sympathetically. "It looks like a child's toy in your hands."

"We both know it's far from that." Activating it, he stepped well away from his apprentice and did a couple of experimental passes.

To Obi-Wan's ears, it sounded different -- more powerful, more dangerous to her ears. Even at a distance, the humming buzz vibrated through her ribs. [Will it do that when I'm holding it, too?] At least the blue light was steady and familiar.

Unclipping his own, heavier lightsaber, Qui-Gon tossed it to Obi-Wan and said, "Let's work through the intermediate fourth stage. Level three. Positions only."

Nodding her understanding, Obi-Wan powered on the Master's weapon and stood ready. She could remember years ago, when Qui-Gon had always counted off the first six positions in order to establish an exact speed for his Padawan, who had Obi-Wan obliged him. A few minutes later, Qui-Gon powered down the saber and offered it to his apprentice. "It seems fine to me. If you experience any problems, disengage immediately."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan returned Qui-Gon's weapon to him.

"Advanced stage. Level ten. Practice speed."

[Practice speed?] Obi-Wan's heart sank. [Infant speed.] Yet the minute she powered on the 'saber, she understood the wisdom behind that request. "Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Should it make my fingers tingle?"

He nodded. "One of the functions of the third crystal we installed is to enhance the Force as it interacts with your own living aura. Your new weapon carries features more powerful than the version you were taught, and less effort is definitely more in this case. Try to ride lightly the lightning in your hand. The first point of contact with that lightning is the tips of your fingers. Think of it as an amplifier and let the Force flow between you. When you succeed, the tingling should lessen. In time, you'll grow used to it."

Obi-Wan blinked and grit her teeth against the itchy sensation. "Now I understand why you want me to go slowly. I can *feel* the power arcing to the pulsar tip and back down, through the handle. In the wrong hands, this would be like putting a galaxy starfighter in the control of someone whose only experience is driving a terran-bound ferry across a seasonal river."

"Exactly."

"And you trust *me* with this?" She was stunned. "Why doesn't yours feel this way to me?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Don't you remember the first time you held mine? You reacted much the same way. You even said that the vibration made your lips itch. You've become attuned to my aura and the saber's power. Familiarity with the Force leads to intimacy with the Force."

"Well, it's nice to know that I've such a close relationship with your lightsaber. Are you ready, my Master?"

"Yes."

They ran through the exercises Qui-Gon had ordered, with Obi-Wan taking advantage of her Master's patience and learning slowly about the new weapon. It didn't take long, though, for her to grow accustomed to it, for her caution to fade and her excitement to grow.

"Master, I want to go faster."

"When have you not?" Stepping back, Qui-Gon bowed and took the ready position. Raising his head and hardening his gaze, he challenged his Padawan with nothing more than a look. "Battle mode: lowest energy setting."

Obi-Wan's heart leaped to hear that order, which translated to, "Treat me exactly as you would your enemy." No breaks given to student or to Master. When she'd been younger, her Master's words had made terror run through her. [What if I'm not good enough, what if I don't remember enough, what if I make him disappointed in me?]

Obi-Wan's litany had changed over the years. A few weeks ago, it had been, [Wonder if I can get in a would-be crippling blow? Wonder if this time I can actually best him at some point today?] Obi-Wan no longer felt terror at the prospect of facing her Master at full-speed, full-blaze battle simulation. Instead, heady anticipation coiled deep inside her, feeding adrenalin through her veins and immediately readying her, just as it had and would again in real battle.

She took the time to double-check the settings on the saber. If one of them struck the other, the blow would still hurt. But it wouldn't maim, and it certainly wouldn't kill. Saluting Qui-Gon, she was about to power up the lightsaber, then hesitated.

"Master, are you sure about this?"

From Obi-Wan's mischievous expression, Qui-Gon knew she was asking just to torment him. Not only that, she was using *that voice* again. His apprentice's expression told Qui-Gon that he'd just have to learn to deal with it. This was Obi-Wan, and she wasn't changing. At least, not any more and especially not to accommodate him.

"I am sure," Qui-Gon replied. "It will help both of us work off our frustrations."

[Our?] Obi-Wan snorted, then saluted. "As you wish, Master."

Qui-Gon saluted back, only to launch himself forward. Swing, block, spin, block right, left, turn, overhead strike, back-swing....

Somehow, Obi-Wan met it all, even as she sensed that Qui-Gon was channeling into the Force every shred of sexual frustration he was feeling. It wasn't fair, but this was war. Obi-Wan might meet the same power off-planet, with some hulking brute of an enemy, and she needed to know how to defend against it.

Making his passion one with the Force, Qui-Gon embraced the battle as he might instead have chosen to embrace Obi-Wan. It gave his skills a lightning edge and terrified the living Force out of his Padawan. The new lightsaber screamed against Qui-Gon's. The violent vibration made Obi-Wan's hands go numb, made her want to fling the strange, new weapon away from herself.

[Do, and you'll die,] she knew, sensing that there was more to this battle than the test of a single lightsaber. [Lose this, and I'm going to lose more than a little self-respect. You want to be a Jedi? Then dammit, Obi-Wan, *be* a Jedi. Live up to the name and Force connect with that saber in your hand, or it's over. Finished. Just send yourself off to Agricorps. It's not too late, you know?]

[The hell I will.]

So what if Qui-Gon's speed was faster this morning than his apprentice had ever experienced? So what if the blinding skill he was showing was something he'd never taught Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon Jinn was still her teacher, and she wouldn't send Obi-Wan into battle -- *any* battle -- without being certain that she had the ability to defend herself. She'd been privileged enough to be taken beneath the cloak of, to learn at the side of, the warrior the Jedi claimed was the best swordsman in four hundred years.

[Do not shame me, Padawan.]

She caught the thought clearly even as Qui-Gon forced her to block awkwardly. Spinning to disengage, Obi-Wan swung and blocked right, [*NO* -- block *LEFT* or lose that arm!]. Rolling, she came up bouncing to spin back around and parry overhead -- a reach for Obi-Wan, simplicity itself for Qui-Gon -- leapt sideways and *struck* at Qui-Gon's legs, but then the Master was airbound and leaping at her, but Obi-Wan saw it coming and--

*Grit her teeth as her arms began aching, as the acrid smoke from both sabers made her eyes burn and water and she blinked furiously to clear them and ignore the newest pain, ignore the muscles screaming across the back of her shoulders....*

*Stretched higher, longer, faster, and further against him -- HIM, the man she called Master and friend, mentor and, soon probably, lover -- the one hurting her, making her lungs burn, pursuing her from one end of the practice room to the other, never making a mistake, never giving her an opening, bearing down again and again and again until she could no longer feel her fingers, her hands, or her arms. Pushing her, pounding her, loving her until she had no choice but to fight as one with the Force and her body ceased to exist, until she was entranced by the pain and she KNEW it, was captured by the intensity of her Master's passion, the blinding smoke, the ever-increasing thrumming that WAS Qui-Gon Jinn, and his arousal fed Obi-Wan's through the Force, offering itself for the apprentice to use though she scarcely recognized its touch--*

*--and she dropped her shields, wrapped her soul around Qui-Gon's aggression and deliberately merged with his energy to ride HIS lightning as he'd often counseled her do, and she did it with such ferocity and need that she made her Master stagger, and Obi-Wan laughed -- laughed, to see the opening....*

[Enough defense!] the Padawan sang through the bond, her smile taking on the blue sheen of her lightsaber as it skimmed past her own nose -- so close, yet so much in control as it batted Qui-Gon's away, as though the Master's skill was nothing, his demand that Obi-Wan *bow* to his superior skill was nothing. [In your dreams, Master!]

She danced away, prancing and mock-glowering at Qui-Gon as the old Obi-Wan would have, body all at hard angles and taunting him -- 'Come and take me, if you can.'

Teasing him as Qui-Gon had seen Obi-Wan tease other opponents, full of himself and his Master, his maleness and his showmanship. Still, after all that had been done to his Padawan, it was there, shining through, and Qui-Gon was glad of it, *glad,* even as he stalked Obi-Wan across the training mat, drew a deep breath, and threw himself into the attack once again.

Obi-Wan launched herself forward at the same time, slamming her saber blade against Qui-Gon's hard enough to make both weapons scream. But when Qui-Gon stopped and held the confrontation, Obi-Wan did not. Letting go the saber with one hand, she anchored that hand against her Master's shoulder and dared to launch herself up and over him. Qui-Gon nearly fell forward on his face as all resistence fled, but managed to catch himself and spin about, ready for anything.

Whirling, he found himself nose to nose with a very blue blade. Slapping it away, he growled and advanced, sensing that he'd lost the advantage now and not quite certain how it had happened.

Backing away, Obi-Wan danced and grinned and beckoned, waggling his fingers in a most disrespectful, mocking manner. 'Come to me... Come. You know you want to. Know you will.'

Qui-Gon's blue eyes darkened. Straightening to his full height, he held his lightsaber at the vertical and grounded behind it.

Pouting, Obi-Wan paced a few feet before him, all but dragging her saber on the mat, plainly disappointed by Qui-Gon's refusal to be drawn. For the first time since her transformation, Obi-Wan felt the power she held deep within her -- power Qui-Gon had given to her. Had given her permission, also, to use.

Without warning, Obi-Wan launched herself over Qui-Gon again. Spinning about, the Master made as if to intercept his apprentice. Unfortunately, by the time he was there, so was Obi-Wan's booted foot to connect with Qui-Gon's jaw. Staggering back, he recovered his balance quickly, but not quickly enough.

Obi-Wan's blade cut at his leg, singeing his leggings and leaving a trail of soot up the long length of his thigh. It ended mere centimeters from his balls.

[Damn you!] Accompanied by blatant disbelief, the thought streaked through their bond before Qui-Gon could snatch it back.

Delighted laughter filled the practice chamber, and then the daemon called Obi-Wan was there again, dancing before him, beside him, behind him. Sliding beneath his guard, the apprentice took only seconds to burn Qui-Gon lightly in three separate places, making clear with the last touch that absolutely *nothing* was sacred, for the last place Obi-Wan struck was across Qui-Gon's very elegant and just-a-tad-too-slow butt.

[She's fast, she's ruthless, she's magnificent, and she's *mine*,] Qui-Gon thought *to himself* this time. [My padawan. The mare of fire has come into her own.]

Spinning backward, Obi-Wan put some distance between them. Pacing restlessly before Qui-Gon, she struggled to catch her breath a little and watched the predator warily. Confusion filled her gaze when Qui-Gon let himself grin. All too infrequent was that grin; Obi-Wan had seen it only twice in all the years she'd been with his Master. She knew better than to trust it now.

Approaching Obi-Wan casually, Qui-Gon swung his lightsaber before him. Backing up another step, Obi-Wan assessed the Master. In that moment, Qui-Gon lifted his hand and *pushed*. The saber flew one way out of Obi-Wan's hand while her feet flew another, depositing her without warning on her butt.

The green lightsaber vibrated between her eyes, its light burning her retinas so that Obi-Wan saw nothing beyond it. [Damn, he could have drilled into my brain five times over, at this rate. *Stupid,* Obi-Wan!]

Not bothering to roll sideways, she commanded her saber back into her hand and slammed it against Qui-Gon's even as the Master planted a booted foot on his Padawan's belly and brought part of his weight to bear on her.

"I believe this battle is at an end, Padawan."

Obi-Wan glowered up at him. "What, you're going to stand on me and crush me with the Force?"

"That is one option. I will leave it to you to research, meditate, and discern other ways, Obi-Wan. You'd do better to remember that your lightsaber is not your only weapon -- nor is it your enemy's only weapon."

"This fight *can't* be at an end!"

"Why not?"

She considered for a moment. "I was winning not two minutes ago. There's *got* to be a way out of this!"

Qui-Gon waited patiently for her to work it through: the sabers sparked and sputtered angrily against each other.

"I...I could disengage and...." she ventured.

Qui-Gon shook his head and leaned a bit more on his foot, just to make Obi-Wan gasp for breath.

"Checkmate, my Padawan. Your lightsaber is of no further use to you. In any one of five different ways, you are already dead." Stepping backward, Qui-Gon turned off his weapon and walked away.

[Well, damn,] Obi-Wan thought, brushing down her tunic before climbing to her feet. "Master, I want a rematch."

Not even bothering to turn around, the Master waved his lightsaber and kept walking.

"Tomorrow!" she insisted.

"Research first, Obi-Wan. Tell me what you learn. After that, I'll consider your request."

Bounding across the mat, she caught up with the long legs that could always carry Qui-Gon away from whatever he no longer wanted to deal with.

"There's one comfort in all of this," she announced as they reached the other end of the room, the end at which they had begun.

"What is that?" Gathering his cloak, Qui-Gon shrugged into it.

"Even if I'd still been a man, I'd still have lost the fight. I've learned something else, too."

"And what might that be?" Tired blue eyes met Obi-Wan's, all passion spent. In its place stood the usual, dignified, gentle Jedi Master.

Stepping closer, Obi-Wan slid her hands beneath Qui-Gon's cloak to range boldly over his barrel chest.

"This is my center," she whispered. Slipping her arms around Qui-Gon's waist, she rested her head against him and let the tension drain away, much as Qui-Gon had done that morning in their quarters. Aeons ago, it felt like now. The older man was damp and sweaty and hot, but gods, it was glorious just to touch him.

"My Obi-Wan...." He breathed the name on a sigh, sliding a huge hand across the back of his Padawan's neck and laying his other hand across Obi-Wan's back to hug her tentatively to him. When Obi-Wan didn't protest, Qui-Gon dared hold her a little tighter.

Drawing back a little, Qui-Gon tilted up Obi-Wan's chin and lowered his head to take her lips in a tender, seeking kiss. Standing up on tiptoe, Obi-Wan sought to deepen the kiss, breathed deeply Qui-Gon's scent made all the stronger by their session, and dug her fingers into the Master's back. Sucking lightly on Qui-Gon's lip, she moaned when his erection stirred once more. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan slipped a hand between his legs to cup him and stroke firmly.

"I want you," she breathed against his mouth.

Without shame, Qui-Gon pressed against Obi-Wan's hand and let her take possession. Kissing his Padawan gently, with a promise of things to come, he murmured, "I know."

Chapter Two

Obi-Wan stared at the library monitor screen but saw nothing of the words written there. Yes, she was supposed to be researching saber-to-saber battle strategies in pursuit of a rematch with his Master over the next week or so. And yes, she would. Certainly, she would. By evening, she'd be able to discuss five thousand years worth of Jedi treatises and lectures with Qui-Gon, and the Master would be well-pleased, just as he'd always been after sending Obi-Wan out on these excursions. She might have to take a reminder disk home to reference on their own databook, but she'd done that before, and her Master would understand.

But she wouldn't do it just yet. Right now, Obi-Wan was too busy running her fingers over her lips, which were still warm and swollen and tingling from her Master's kiss. And she was too busy exploring their connection through the Master/Padawan bond: Qui-Gon was somewhere in the building, tending to business, perhaps reporting in private to Yoda, or perhaps ensconced in a Master's reading room mere feet away from Obi-Wan's own cubicle, studying the social and political situation of the next planet they were scheduled to visit.

[He's still aroused,] Obi-Wan sensed. It reached through the Force, touching her, making her aware that she was the focus of his Master's thoughts. [By the Sith, he's been aroused all day; so I don't think that's likely to change. It didn't for me, when I was a guy.]

Smiling at the thought, Obi-Wan found herself wondering how it would have felt to have her Master kiss her when she had still been male. [Would it have aroused *me* all day? How would I feel, now? Should I miss that, or just appreciate what I've got?]

[Best to appreciate it,] she decided quickly, [lest the Fates conspire to take it away from me. No, I think I'm quite contented with his kissing me as I am now. No use wishing for things you can't have, anyway. Besides, there's so much we *can* have -- and probably will, tonight, if I read my Master correctly.]

On the way from the practice rooms to the library, both Master and Apprentice had noticed that Obi-Wan's very presence in the corridors was now attracting stares and murmurs. More than once, a Jedi Knight or apprentice stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the young woman walking beside Qui-Gon, or gigged their companion in the ribs to draw their attention to the couple.

"And so it begins," Qui-Gon murmured, resisting the urge to tuck Obi-Wan protectively beneath his shoulder.

As for Obi-Wan, she straightened his shoulders, raised her head, and boldly stared back at each and every one of them. For some reason, the stares jarred her memory, and she remembered the Master/Apprentice competition that they had entered weeks before.

"Do you still want to honor our entry?" she asked, keeping her voice low, for the hallways appeared to have grown ears since word was getting around of her new state of being.

"Do you feel capable of honoring the entry?"

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I've got too much to relearn. I meant what I said to Master Windu; I don't want to make a spectacle of myself, even if I already am."

Qui-Gon nodded agreement. "I will ask that our entry be withdrawn."

"Thank you, Master."

They had pre-arranged to meet at dinner. As dusk fell, Qui-Gon left Yoda's chambers after spending the afternoon discussing the information vital to their next mission. The attention thrown Qui-Gon's direction in the corridors from relative Jedi strangers wasn't quite as bad as what he feared it would have been, had Obi-Wan been at his side, but it was bad enough. Attracting his share of knowing grins and nods from people he'd never met, Qui-Gon strode on toward the cafeteria.

[Are they catering some special gathering tonight?] he wondered, as the entrance seemed to be blocked. [Obi-Wan's in the middle of that,] he realized, sensing his padawan's presence like a beacon shining in the night.

Shouldering his way through the crowd, Qui-Gon managed to work his way a little closer to the all-too-human beacon. The closer he got, however, the more the crowd fought him, until he was stopped two rows away from his padawan, who seemed trapped in the very middle of these people.

"So, what's it feel like to be a girl?" a rude male voice asked.

"What's it feel like to be a guy?" Obi-Wan's calm voice drifted toward Qui-Gon. "You tell me, and I'll tell you. Look, I just came in here to get something to eat. I'm not here to compare women to men."

"But you'd be so damned *good* at it, Kenobi." It wasn't difficult to hear the leer in the apprentice's young voice. "Nobody who looks like you do now could be anything but... *good*."

"Tong...." A warning. Qui-Gon knew the narrowed-gaze look that went with that tone of voice, complete with thin lips and a hand on a lightsaber hilt.

[Don't, Obi-Wan. Not here. Not now.] He sent the thought urgently through their bond. [Let me help.]

"I'm good," Obi-Wan was all but purring. "Come a little closer, Tong-Maxel, and you'll see just *how* good I am."

The crowd laughed appreciatively.

"Go on, Maxel," a mocking voice in the crowd urged. "You know you want to."

Someone must have pushed the brash apprentice, because, in the net moment, Qui-Gon heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber being ignited. More than that, he could see its blue glow reflected on the faces of young Jedi apprentices standing just over there.

"All right, guys," growled Obi-Wan. "Give me some swinging room, here, please?"

Tapping the shoulder of the apprentice in front of him, Qui-Gon leaned down and whispered, "I need to get through here."

Turning her head, the apprentice glowered at Qui-Gon's breastbone. Recognition dawned when she stared up at the tall Jedi Master.

"Eep!" she gasped, moving sideways in the crush of the crowd to let the Master pass, which only resulted in her being crushed up against his chest as he slid closer to his objective.

"My apologies," he murmured, placing a hand to her elbow by way of apology.

"That's...uh...okay, Master Jinn."

And so it went, as he made his way through two more rows of people, and into the inner circle containing Obi-Wan. Sidling up beside his apprentice, Qui-Gon palmed his own lightsaber and turned it on. Green to Obi-Wan's blue, they presented a strong front -- so strong that the entire crowd surged back a few feet.

"You get our dinner, Padawan," he ordered, all mock glowers and solemnity that never reached his laughing blue eyes. "I'll handle this."

Glancing up at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan immediately caught his mood. Chewing on her bottom lip, Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't know about that plan, Master. They're a rowdy bunch. Do you think you can handle them alone?"

Qui-Gon narrowed his gaze and glowered at those within striking distance. "We shall see, my Padawan."

Lunging forward, he raised the saber over his head. The crowd tripped over itself while trying to back up even further.

"I'll...uh... I'll get dinner." Within minutes, Obi-Wan had prepared a tray for them both. "Ready, Master."

With lightsaber still ignited and held like a flaming torch to drive all of the evil creatures of the night before him, Qui-Gon growled and led the way through the now-laughing crowd.

"Did you hear that?" whispered one young padawan.

"He just *growled* us."

"He's very hungry," Obi-Wan informed the young woman. "I think you heard his stomach."

"Yeah, right."

Reaching the edge of the crowd, Master and Padawan turned to bow their respects and continued unmolested through the corridors back to their chambers.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan murmured. "I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get out of that with Tong-Maxel determined to feed the frenzy."

"Perhaps you should have called me?" Qui-Gon keyed open the door to their rooms.

"It wasn't serious enough for that."

"Obi-Wan, the time to call for help is *before* you need it. This ensures that the help arrives before it is actually needed."

"I hadn't thought of that." Placing the tray on their small table outside of the kitchen, Obi-Wan turned to face her Master. "I don't think I *would* have thought of it. After all, we're in the Temple. Why would I need your protection here?"

"If your instincts tell you that you need me, then you do, no matter the location."

Nodding understanding, Obi-Wan went to boil water for tea. "I'll remember that."

"That's not to say that you didn't handle the situation well, my Padawan." Qui-Gon followed her into the kitchen, folded his arms and leaned against the counter. "Humor will diffuse almost any situation."

"Well, it wasn't worth threatening people over it. They were curious and just watching, after all. But if Tong had reached for me the way I think he wanted to--." Obi-Wan shrugged. "You probably know what I would have done."

"Cut off his fingers?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

"I had something a little lower in mind, but fingers would have done fine, I guess."

Handing over the tea, Obi-Wan took her own mug to the table and set out the food. Dinner was a companionable affair, with Obi-Wan announcing what she'd learned during her research of hand-to-hand combat and Qui-Gon pointing out how certain things could be applied in future sparring sessions. They talked long after the meal was over, until Obi-Wan ran her fingers through her hair and grimaced.

"Gritty?" Qui-Gon asked, knowing his Padawan had been so eager to research the combat material assigned that she'd taken a quick shower but not bothered to wash her hair after their session that morning.

"Yeah."

"Go." He gestured with a long-fingered hand. "I'll clean up here."

Offering a brief bow, Obi-Wan headed off to the bath. Taking off her clothes in the small room, she also took the opportunity to stare at herself while trying to see that self the way Qui-Gon saw it.

[I don't understand why he's so attracted to me,] she acknowledged after staring at her bony hips, too-small breasts, and even bonier shoulders. Turning from the mirror, she climbed into the 'fresher. [When I look at me, all I see is somebody who's too little and too fragile. Why he wants me is beyond me. *I* sure wouldn't look twice. But who am I to deny my Master?]

Bathing quickly, Obi-Wan dried her hair and Padawan braid and wrapped a towel around herself. Qui-Gon called from his place at the comp-unit as Obi-Wan padded out of the bath and stuffed her clothes down the laundry chute.

"I've assembled the supply list we'll need for our next mission. Is there anything in particular you want?"

Kneeling beside her Master, Obi-Wan stared at the monitor.

"Your list seems pretty complete to me," she commented, letting her eyes scan the items. A large hand wrapped itself around the back of her head, smoothed over the still-damp hair. Turning her head, Obi-Wan looked up at her Master, who was smiling faintly as he ran the braid between his fingers.

"This needs to be rebraided."

Obi-Wan shivered as the back of Qui-Gon's hand moved over her breast. His fingers trailed down to the ends of the braid and slipped off the red elastic, followed by the yellow. Looking ld be installed--when Obi-Wan felt him pause and knew what he was doing: removing a few strands of his own hair to weave them into hers. The yellow elastic anchored the new hair and then Qui-Gon was off again, braiding more slowly as the hair thinned. His large fingers managed it carefully and applied the red elastic to finish the process. Laying the braid across Obi-Wan's shoulder, Qui-Gon briefly rested his hand there.

"It has always been a pleasure for me that you allow me to do that."

Obi-Wan fingered the end of the braid, was pleased to see streaks of brown and silver hair mixed in with her own auburn. "I thought every Master braided their Padawan's hair."

"When the apprentice is young, yes. But most apprentices take over the task when they're older."

Turning around, Obi-Wan sat back on her heels and regarded her Master steadily. "You've always asked to do it."

"And you've always let me. Each time I've asked, I've expected you to say no."

"I've always liked being touched by you."

Qui-Gon's gaze flickered at that, and Obi-Wan felt desire thrum through the bond. It was gone just as quickly as the Master hooded his expression, and their connection.

"No, Master. Don't...." Reaching up, Obi-Wan laid her hand against the bearded cheek and enjoyed the freedom of being able to do it.

"Don't what?"

"Hide what you're feeling now."

"Obi-Wan...."

She shivered as Qui-Gon's voice dropped, further evidence of his desire.

"Are you cold?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan shook her head. "Nervous. I haven't been this nervous since I was twelve and my teachers told me you'd be coming to watch me fight."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I want you to touch me," she whispered. "I want to feel what we felt this afternoon in your lab, and a whole lot more." Sliding her hands up Qui-Gon's thighs, she felt the muscles tense. Letting one hand continue its journey, Obi-Wan tenderly cupped the thick, hot bulge between her Master's legs, felt it surge in response. "I know this is for me, I've been waiting for you all day. It's one of the greatest gifts you could offer, Master. Please... let me accept it?"

On a sigh, he captured her hands and held them in his own. "We don't have to do this just because you know that I want it."

Obi-Wan had to grin. "What makes you think I don't want it, too?"

Arching an eyebrow, Qui-Gon grasped his Padawan's towel and pulled it slowly down to reveal one breast. When she didn't pull away, he leaned over and pressed his lips briefly to her nipple. His eyebrow climbed higher when she hissed and leaned into him.

"It would appear that I'm wrong," he observed dryly, caressing the rising nub with his thumb. "You do want me."

"I just hope that I can please you," she murmured. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing in this body."

"You know enough, Obi-Wan. Our touching could never disappoint me." Qui-Gon ran his fingers through her hair, tugged insistently on the elastic holding the tail fastened at the back. It released easily and he combed slowly through the damp strands. "I will make love to you, but only if you wish it."

"So formal, when I know all too well how fierce you can be?" She let her amusement shimmer through the bond. "I want this. I've wanted it for days, and I won't break, Master."

"No. But I might."

She shivered again at the look in his eyes and felt the delicious fire awake, uncoiling and driving upward as he stood. [Live in the moment,] she remembered his words. [And do try to enjoy it, Obi-Wan.]

Rising and standing with him, she was once more made aware of just how big he was when his warm, calloused hands cupped her upper arms, his fingers spreading across her shoulder blades. Sliding his hands down her arms and her back, he made the towel drop to the floor.

She watched him watching her until his breath quickened slightly, until she sensed his increasing need. Only then did she reach for his belt to find the release with deft, experienced fingers. Seconds later, she unwound his sash and raked the tunics as one up over his head. Her gaze followed his arms, noted the flexing, bulging biceps and corded muscle across his flat stomach that she'd looked at a thousand times before, but had never truly seen. Leaning forward, she lovingly traced a long-healed scar with a finger and a slow, focused breath on his skin before tucking her hands between his leggings and bare hips. Feeling the heat roiling off of his skin -- so much hotter, it seemed, than her own -- she slipped her hands around to the small of his back to slide the material down over his backside.

Even as the leggings dropped, she sank with them to lift first one long, fine-boned foot and then the other, to help him step out of them. Sliding her hand around his ankles, she paused and grinned to see the toes that were so seldom brought out of hiding: long and elegant, they echoed his limbs, his very being. Shifting her weight, she knelt and caressed up the backs of his legs to cup his buttocks before taking a deep breath, leaning forward, and letting her nose blaze a trail through the warm brown hair nestled between his legs. The spicy scent of him filled her senses and made her rub against him, already loving the feel of his hair against her skin.

His thickening erection nudged her cheek, demanding its own share of attention. Cupping his testicles in one hand, she caressed them with the tips of her fingers and squeezed lightly. The fingers of her other hand slid around the base of him to hold him steady as she licked and nibbled at the already weeping tip. Ever so delicately, her tongue pushed back the foreskin to seek the soft slit beneath.

Burying his fingers in her hair, he groaned long and low when she abandoned the tip only to begin suckling her way down the thick vein that throbbed harder beneath her ministrations. Arching, he let his head fall back, and she felt the tremor run through him.

Lifting her head, she blew on the dampened erection and cradled it in her hands. "Hot velvet, Master. And you feel so good to touch."

He surged and shuddered when her tongue sought him again. Growling low, he stepped back out of reach, bent to slide his hands around her waist and lift her effortlessly to her feet. Pulling her against his long length, he curved her head against his shoulder and covered her mouth with his in a long, demanding kiss that saw his fingers caressing behind her ear to find a most sensitive spot she had never known existed. Her knees turned to jelly, her legs threatened collapse just before he broke off the kiss, wrapped a hand around her thigh, lifted her up and slid himself between her legs.

"Hang onto me." He breathed the words into her mouth, then sucked her tongue into a demanding duel meant to devour. He kissed her long and hard and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue to the rhythm of his thrusts, seeking entrance and teasing her unbearably at the same time.

She gasped, startled to feel him just there. Breaking off the kiss, she shivered and stare up at him. "I've never­"

"Felt that before?"

Snaking out her tongue, she closed her eyes and savored the taste of him on her own salty skin. "Hell, no."

His finger traced where her tongue had passed. "Did you like it?"

"Oh, yeah."

Opening her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and all but climbed him to hold on as he had ordered. Trembling, she waited for his next order, his next breath, whatever he might want of her. Whatever he wanted, it was his -- immediately, irrevocably, completely. Her skin felt hypersensitive to his touch, like a new canvas waiting only for his creation. The feel of his furred chest against her nipples, his beard rubbing her cheek, his deep kisses -- every second of every sensation offered sensations she'd never known existed.

He set his teeth against her earlobe to pull gently and suckle soundlessly. Crying out as the flames leaped and twisted within her, she arched violently against his hardness, suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her.

He purred long and low as he picked her up, cradling her protectively against him and carrying her into his sleep-room. The glow of the Coruscant skyline illuminated the small chamber, casting everything in silvered light. Tenderly, he laid her on the bed and drew back as if to look at her again. Shaking her head, she refused to allow him the luxury of not touching. Sitting up, she captured his hand and yanked, as if losing physical contact was to risk his changing his mind.

He lay half on top of her, dipping the bed and bracing his elbows on either side of her. He'd scarcely settled before she was yanking out his leather hair-tie, dropping it over the side of the bed, was combing her fingers through the glorious mane that came spilling down. He allowed the exploration, closing his eyes and purring once more under her caress. Once his mane had been tended, she moved on to lovingly trace the broken line of his nose and too-prominent brow. His blue eyes were black in the night, his breathing fast and shallow. The heat and the length of him rose between them, yet he seemed in no hurry to finish what they had begun.

"Master," she breathed against his beard, cupping his face and feathering kisses up his jaw, across his lined forehead.

"Mine," he murmured in return, lowering his head to accept her kisses. Entwining his fingers with hers, he brought them to his lips, kissed each one in its turn. "So strong, yet so small."

She shook her head. "Not my fault."

"No fault, Obi-Wan," he assured as she laid her cheek against the back of his hand, which still help her fingers captive. "Never a fault."

Shifting lower, he trailed light kisses down her throat only to end between her breasts. One finger circled a nipple, stroking and petting intently as she watched. Mere seconds later, she was moving restlessly and all but begging. Covering her hand with his, she tried to increase the pressure on her breast.

He laughed softly. "You like that, do you? You don't want me inside of you?"

"Want... both," she gasped, even as he lowered his head and she knew his torturous intent. "No, Master. Please!"

A hot, wet tongue, a cool stream of focused breath, and endlessly teasing butterfly lips brought her sensitive nipples to life.

"You want both?" he murmured. "A Jedi is not greedy."

With that, he fastened on her breast with a vengeance, suckling hard and thrusting his tongue and teeth across her nipple to make her arch and writhe. His weight pinned her; her efforts did little but frustrate her further and make him purr again.

"Screw being Jedi!" Obi-Wan panted, tangling her fingers in his hair and yanking. "I want you. Inside me. Now."

He left her nipple with much reluctance and a final long, drawn-out suck that made her yelp when he released her. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled abruptly onto his back and laughed to see her startlement.

Finding herself lying across him now, she raised herself on his chest to look into his dark eyes and shivered. The chest hair beneath her fingers was warm and soft. The power and scent of him surrounded her, even as their bond pulsed with mutual need. She felt almost drugged with love for him.

"I love you," she whispered.

His fingers caressed her cheek. "Even as I love you."

Holding his gaze, she rose up and reached between his legs to guide him against her. Planting his feet against the mattress, he tensed and thrust slightly, letting her control the penetration and moving only as he had to. She gasped as he filled her, feeling his unrelenting girth and insistence that she accommodate it. In that moment, he read worry and insecurity in her eyes. Without words, she begged him to be kind when he remembered this night, to overlook her inexperience and understand that she'd never walked this road before. Not in this way and never with anyone else but him.

"Relax," he whispered, shuddering and raising his head to meet her halfway as she leaned forward to seek his reassurance, as well as his kisses. Wrapping his arms around her, he thrust gently to drive himself deeper.

She whimpered softly and at first he thought it was with pain, but when she straightened over him once more and tilted back her head, he saw that pleasure drove her. Lacing their fingers together, he joined his rhythm to hers and let it carry them both higher. He thrust harder, deeper, faster, and arched off of the bed when she cried out, climaxing deep within her.

She collapsed atop him, her breath mingling with his as she buried her nose in his neck. Wrapping his arms around her, he held on fiercely even as small, shuddering aftershocks claimed him.

"Mine," he whispered, feeling her fingers tangle in his hair, her breathing steady as she sank toward contented sleep. "My Obi-Wan."

Chapter Three

Obi-Wan exploded from the 'fresher the next morning. "This is just too disgusting!"

"Pardon me?" Qui-Gon murmured, looking up from the datapad he'd been studying while waiting his own turn in the 'fresher.

Obi-Wan paced before him. "It's messy, I don't want children, and there has *got* to be a way to TURN THIS OFF!!"

Qui-Gon stared at her mildly for a beat or two, until realization dawned. "Only time will turn it off, my Padawan."

"If that's meant to soothe me, forget it!" she snarled.

Stalking over to the small closet in their entry, she yanked out her cloak. It was only as she shrugged into it that she realized it was *his* cloak ­ the young man she used to be. With something sounding suspiciously close to a svleki cub's growl, she shoved the offensive material back into the closet and yanked the next ­ pointedly smaller ­ one down. Slinging it around her shoulders, she all but buried herself in it.

"Do you require assistance, Obi-Wan?"

"Hell, no." The glare she gave him said that it was all his fault, somehow. "I'll just get Kee-Lahn to help me."

"Who?"

"Kee-Lahn. The apprentice you gave my clothes to in the training room the other day? The one who challenged you over the door?"

"I remember. What will you do?"

"Make her to Stores and get what I need."

Qui-Gon offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "At least we know that you're not pregnant."

She narrowed her eyes before backing up and punching the control to open the door. "Don't *even* go there, Master."

The tornado left quickly, with the door sighing shut behind her, and Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief in the peaceful aftermath. [That little hormonal display, members of the Council, is one of the reasons why I alway chose a male apprentice.]

And so began the new pattern of their lives. The days passed as days do, falling into a natural rhythm even as did Obi-Wan's body. Her lessons at the Temple continued, as did her sparring matches with Qui-Gon and other Masters of the Sword. Gradually, she become more comfortable with her body, if not in her body. She expected that, given time, she'd learn to control her emotions again, but that seemed far from happening. She'd never been so impatient or so sensitive before. Not knowing what else to do, she sought solace in her Master's arms, whether or not they made love. Qui-Gon voiced no objection, and Obi-Wan had the feeling that he would hold her until Coruscant itself dissolved, without minding it at all.

"I'm sorry to be such a pain," she murmured against his shoulder, stretched out against the long length of him in the middle of yet another Coruscant night.

"Obi-Wan, you are not a pain. There's nothing wrong with needing affection and reassurance."

"You don't think I'm getting too dependent on you?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Why do you think you might be doing that?"

"Because I'm all right when I'm with you, when we're training or whatever. When I'm away from you, everything feels really wrong. Out of joint."

"Our relationship feels wrong?"

"No!" She rose up on one arm to look at him. "What we share feels good. Really good, and I'm not complaining. I know you like this new body, but I'm still not at peace with it. I doubt that I'll ever be."

He caressed the back of her head. "It's been only a few months. One way of living has died to you. It will take some time to become used to this new way of life."

"So you don't think I'm becoming too dependent on you?"

"Not at all. I think you're more vulnerable than you were -- not only physically, but emotionally, as well. You need to be gentle with yourself, give yourself more time to come to terms with everything that has changed."

"That's not an answer."

Smiling, Qui-Gon drew her into a gentle kiss. "You've been under a great deal of stress since the transformation, and life here in the Temple is very much like a fishbowl. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing, feeling, achieving, or failing to achieve. This family of ours can be both a comfort and a strain, as everyone watches everyone else constantly. They're watching you all the more, no matter what you're doing, whether or not I am with you. Perhaps it's just a little easier when you're with me."

"Yeah. They pretend not to stare when we're together," she said glumly. "They won't let me forget what's happened. Not even for a minute."

"To them, it's a miracle."

"Or a freak-out."

"Obi-Wan!"

She shrugged, unrepentant. "I'm calling it how I see it, Master. Some of them are fascinated, but others look at me like I've become some sort of freak. I'm inclined to agree with the latter most of the time."

"Padawan, they can't understand what you've been through, or the turmoil you continue to feel. You've always brought your vulnerabilities to me rather than to others, and with good reason."

"You've always known me better than I know myself," she admitted.

"Perhaps. This experience has not been easy for you, but you must know that I'm very proud of you. You're doing far better than you seem willing to give yourself credit for." Long fingers massaged lightly at the back of her neck. "Try to get some sleep, hmm? We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Giving a sigh, Obi-Wan settled back down beside Qui-Gon, closed her eyes, and did as he bid her. Yes, she was vulnerable. [Hell, that's brought home to me at least three ways every day.] And yes, she came to him with it. [Who else could I go to? Master Yoda? He'd make weird sympathetic noises and shake his head and there the help would stop. Master Windu? He'd invite me in for a drink and stare at me all night. Kee-Lahn? She's used to being a girl, she hasn't a clue as to what I'm feeling.]

Qui-Gon didn't understand fully, either, but at least he tried. He listened to her fears and frustrations, held her when she cried, and let her fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes she cried, and he made her climb out of bed and meditate with him. Sometimes she cried, and they went for a walk in the gardens. Sometimes she cried, and they made love. She thought that his shoulder had to be perpetually soggy from all of her tears, yet he hadn't complained. At least, not yet.

Sometimes, Obi-Wan tried to sleep in her own bed, without him. Invariably, she awoke in the middle of the night, gave a deep sigh, and headed for his room. Crawling in quietly to keep from waking her Master, she pressed back against him and went back to sleep easily. Next morning, she often awoke with his arm draped across her waist, his legs entangled with hers, and his morning erection pressing against her back. It wasn't a bad way to wake up at all.

A few days later, it was Qui-Gon's studied opinion that Obi-Wan might be ready to channel all of the restlessness she was feeling by getting out of the Temple and back into the field. Decision made, he sent a message to the Council saying that they were ready to resume working. Within the day, both were standing before the Council, looking as calm and capable as always, while Obi-Wan's heart beat too fast and too hard in her chest.

[This is the first off-planet assignment we've had since...then,] she thought. [Force, please let me know what I'm doing. Please don't let me screw this up.]

She scarcely heard a word of Master Windu's briefing. "You two will pose as partners," drifted through her frantic mind, "and seek information," on some sort of smuggling ring. [Sounds simple enough; nothing we haven't done before, right?]

Bowing automatically when Windu sat back and said, "May the Force be with you," she followed her Master from the chamber and continued on in silence out into the Temple corridors. In less than an hour they'd packed, boarded the Marauder, and were cleared to leave Coruscant.

Qui-Gon smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Do you want to take her up and out?"

Never one to refuse an invitation like that, Obi-Wan gave a huge grin. Cracking her knuckles, she ignored her Master's wince and crouched over the controls. Settling into the routine checks, she took command of the ship and felt completely at home doing it.

"Yeah, this is fine." She sighed in contentment, feeding coordinates into the navi-computer as they cleared Coruscant's atmosphere.

Leaning back in his chair, Qui-Gon was contented to hide a smile and watch his Padawan work.

Obi-Wan walked out of the 'fresher the next morning in time to see Qui-Gon slide a small gold earring through his left ear. Gone were the familiar beige robes of the Jedi Master. The familiar boots were still there, but the leggings were rougher and well-worn, as was the billow-sleeved shirt Qui-Gon had tucked in behind the belt.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon laced the shirt that revealed far too much of the Jedi Master's chest for his Padawan not to squirm.

"Getting ready to play my part in this escapade. We'll arrive in an hour. Are you ready?"

"Uh... ready for what?" She sat on the edge of the bed.

Giving a low chuckle, Qui-Gon moved across the room to dig into a trunk. "I didn't think you were listening to Mace."

Turning back, he carried a stack of clothes to his apprentice and dropped them next to her on the bed. "You'll wear this."

Pawing through the garments, she saw that they were a reasonable replica of Qui-Gon's.

"Master, what, exactly, are we posing to be?"

"Smugglers. And mates. You will call me Jinn. I will call you­"

"Kenobi?"

Qui-Gon hesitated. "I had something a bit more feminine in mind."

"Call me anything you want, just don't make me wear a dress."

The Master's laughter rang out, and Obi-Wan grinned.

"I had something a bit more subtle in mind," Qui-Gon asserted. "Would you object to my calling you Ailleacht?"

She arched an eyebrow, recognizing the word from their shared homeworld and native language. "Beauty? You can't be serious."

"Or would you rather I called you Bruid?"

"No, Master. If someone is to be the beast, it should be you."

"Ailleacht agus Bruid?" [Beauty and Beast?]

Obi-Wan nodded.

"No, I don't think so," Qui-Gon murmured, stroking her cheek. "It's a bit too... obvious."

"Yes, Master." She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes and realizing it had been a long time since she'd felt able to spar with anyone on such a casual level. It felt good to be able to do it again.

Leaning down, he stole a quick kiss. "Get dressed. Then come up to the cockpit, and I'll tell you what else you need to know."

EXCEPT FROM OBI-WAN'S JOURNAL, OR "Things you just don't put into the Council Report," entry #2195

We spent four months on Thar posing as pirates. I was very grateful for the time away from the Temple, even if we did have to live among smugglers, bounty hunters and cut-throats. None of them knew who we were -- or, more importantly, who I'd been -- and therefore underestimated us. Mostly me. Jinn, they learned very quickly not to cross. His ruthless possessiveness and protection of his mate became fodder for the gossipmongers very quickly after he leaped over three tables and very nearly cut a man's throat just for nuzzling my neck as we played cards.

Jinn refused to pay for the spilled drinks or ruined game, either. The victim of that attack departed very quickly because he'd soiled himself, all of the bets were retrieved, and the night was somewhat of a disappointment all around. And so it came to pass that no pirate dared to even glance Ailleacht's way when Jinn was with her. As for when Ailleacht was alone... Well, that's another story altogether.

I must admit that it was fun. Well, it was fun for me. Not so much fun for Qui-Gon. I learned a different sort of swagger, to flirt and bait and tease. It would have been a harmless occupation on another planet. On Thar, though, it could get a girl sold into slavery. Or worse.

Fortunately, I didn't think like a girl, even if Qui-Gon thought of me as one now.

My Master complained later that I simply would not stay where he put me, mentally or physically. I argued that I went exactly where I'd have gone and did exactly what I'd have done were I still a male Jedi. He said that was precisely the problem. The mask I showed the filthy, drooling pirate populace was ever-changing. One minute Ailleacht was all professional, no flirting, just get to the business at hand, my friend, what is it you want to smuggle where? The next, she was sidling up and cooing, telling the fattest smuggler in the business that he had great biceps and it had to be hard to keep in great shape, could she watch him next time he worked out? The next moment, you can be certain that Jinn was growling, while Ailleacht was shrugging and pouting and looking very sad that she couldn't pursue things with that adorable little smuggler.

I swear my Master and I would have been there only a month if he'd have let me do my job. And if I'd listened to all of his warnings, we'd still be there. I can't count all of the times that I called him over-protective. Of course, he called me a danger to myself. I think we were both right, but, in the end, I got what we needed and got the hell out of there in a hurry.

There was one man -- a big, burly bar-keep -- whom we were sure was in the middle of the game. He ignored Qui-Gon -- excuse me, Jinn -- from here to eternity, but he wanted me. Boy, did he ever. If he'd have drooled any more, he'd have slipped in his own spit.

Pity the feeling wasn't mutual.

Fortng back. He looked stricken, as if he'd just been forced to sever our bond rather than just a couple of feet of hair.

"Master?" I laid a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

His eyes said no, he wasn't, even as he nodded yes. Spooling the braid, he laid it reverently across our weapons and then closed the box. Touching a hidden mechanism, he slid the invisible compartment back into the bulkhead.

"Force... Master... Apprentice, remember?" I whispered, tightening my grip on him. "We carry it in our hearts. And we've still got our bond."

"We always will, my Padawan."

"So come on," I urged, rocking back and punching his arm. "Let's get this mission over with."

I may have swaggered off of the ship. I probably did. He says that after what I did to that bar-keep, I'm still swaggering.

He's right.

But the guy deserved it. Feel *me* up, will he? Want me to service him, did he?

His establishment was empty at mid-day because Thar's liquor is best served warm and its days are far too hot for anyone to be drinking. So there I was, all flowing curves and winks and smiles. Just there to talk, big guy. It's really lonesome without Jinn around. Yeah, he's gone and probably all day, so maybe you have something to keep me occupied?

I wanted information, and he wanted to map my body. We came to a mutual agreement in the corner of the bar. At least for little while. I let his lips do insidious things while nudging him just... a... little... by way of the Force. Mind whammy, some call it. I call it magic. And necessity.

"You want to tell me all that you know about the Bearla cartel."

"I want to tell you...."

Hey, this was a real sacrifice. I suffered through his wet, mushy lips on my neck, his greasy hands yanking at my shirt, and his rather frantic below-the-waist efforts to reach other things as well. I was doing good, though. Really good. The man was babbling and we were getting the info we needed.

Until he pulled up my shirt. Then, I got a little worried.

My panic had raced across the bond before I knew it. What was worse and thanks to my manipulations, this greasy bantha-like man had a two-track mind. His basal brain was saying, "Use her NOW," while his higher (but not much) mind was babbling everything I needed to know about the family Bearla. It was hard work, let me tell you, making sense of his words when his lips were all mooshed between my breasts.

I felt my Master's shock, first, and then his growing rage as he demanded a clearer picture of what was happening to me. I could feel Qui-Gon moving quickly through the crowd outside the bar, coming ever closer. [Just don't let him get here and break the guy's neck before I get what we came to get,] I remember thinking.

"I want to taste you," I whispered into the bantha's ear. Yanking down my shirt, I dropped between his groping hands to kneel at his feet.

Fumbling with his belt, I listened to him prattle on about the smugglers until I realized that finally -- finally! -- he had told me everything he could and was winding down. Time to get the hell out of Thar.

Qui-Gon appeared in the doorway just as I yanked down the man's drawers. The bar-keep's disappointing manhood reared up and swung toward my face.

"Not today, big guy," I muttered even as Qui-Gon closed the space between us.

Balling my fingers into a fist -- admittedly not as impressive a fist as I used to have -- I punched the guy right in the balls. His instantaneous freezing and indrawn wheezing told me that I'd hit my target dead on.

I tucked and rolled away before he could fall on me, fetching up against the back of the keep's moldering counter. A huge shadow descended on me, even as the man began a long, loud bantha wail. For one confused moment, I thought that the man himself was bearing down on me, and my arm was nearly wrenched from its socket when Qui-Gon yanked me to my feet.

"Out of here. Now." he growled, spinning me about and shoving. Hard.

I heard the bar-keep's knees hit the floor and didn't argue with my Master. I heard also the slamming of the kitchen door as his wife pelted to his rescue.

"Ooooh, Pudgie, sweet one, what's happened?"

Qui-Gon hauled me from the bar as the woman drew breath and let fly a string of epithets that I would have liked to have memorized. I don't think she was oblivious any more. My Master and I ran down the street with him in the rear ­ I suspect so that he could keep an eye on me during our escape.

[I got it!] I shouted at him gleefully through the bond.

[Yes, and you're *going* to get it as well!] he shot back, urging me to go faster as his feet practically scraped my heels.

I wasn't particularly worried.

By mutual, silent agreement we didn't return to the ramshackle room we'd called home for the past twelve weeks. Instead, we headed for the Marauder before the bar-keep could breathe again and summon help from the Bearla cartel. Ailleacht and Jinn had drifted into town; we'd streak out of it and back to Coruscant that hot summer's afternoon, and no one would be the wiser.

Qui-Gon all but shoved me up the entry ramp, slamming it closed and sprinting for the cockpit with me right behind him. We made planet-break in record time and the jump to lightspeed soon after that. No one would ever track us, not with the false destination report my Master had filed. Someone on Coruscant had already altered the Marauder's registration, so there was no way to trace the little ship or her owners.

"We're safe." I grinned, enjoying the rush as I'd not enjoyed anything for weeks.

"No thanks to you, Obi-Wan. What were you thinking of, back there?"

I shrugged. "Completing the mission. What's your problem?"

He was out of his chair instantly, pouncing like a svleki to crowd me in my chair. Nose to nose, he all but growled. "My *problem* is that you are still thinking like a man while -- like it or not -- you are encased in a more fragile body. That scene you instigated so boldly could have ended far differently. Need I paint a vulgar picture for you to realize this, my Padawan?"

"Need I remind you of the training that I've received at your hands and used with all success on past missions?" I said quietly, refusing to back down.

It was *my* body and had been *my* scene. By my own choice. Not only was I willing to take responsibility for what I'd done, I was damn proud of it, too. For the first time in months, I'd been in charge of me. That felt good, and I wanted more.

"I've gotten myself out of far worse situations without your help," I continued. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I may not have had a lightsaber, but I had about ten other options. You worry too much."

He did growl, then.

"Am I still to become a Jedi Knight?" I asked before he could begin lecturing me.

"Of course."

"That means you won't be around forever to nursemaid me?"

He was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. Opening his mouth, he closed it again and spoke through gritted teeth. "Padawan...."

"If you're not around, then who's left to rescue me if I'm in this body?"

Straightening, Qui-Gon leaned against the back of his pilot's chair. Narrowing his eyes, he folded his arms. "You weren't trying to prove something back there?"

"Only that I'm still capable of performing undercover, and that I can take care of myself. I may not have the same body, Master, but the brains and the training are still very much intact."

Qui-Gon blue eyes twinkled. "I'm not certain that bar-keep is."

I merely grinned. Reaching out, Qui-Gon drew me into a hug that said he was still proud of me, however much I'd scared him. I was sorry for that, but couldn't see any way around it. Neither could he, or he'd have had some choice words to make my ears burn. Perhaps he knew that he had to let go ­ and more than a little ­ if his Padawan was going to learn to survive on her own as a woman.

As for me, I was smugly satisfied with my performance. I'd done my job and our mission was complete. I'd learned something, too: brains often triumph where brawn cannot, and a great many men in the universe are oblivious of that fact. I now understood a little more of what Kee-Lahn had been trying to tell me in the locker room. I wasn't necessarily comfortable with it ­ yet ­ but I was beginning to understand it.

We made love that night, with the ship streaking through space on its way back to the Temple. This time was for us, for Qui-Gon and me, and the feelings were delicious. For the first time since my transformation, I felt comfortable with myself. I knew who I was again, and could live with the knowledge. I acted on what I felt that night, living in the moment.

We took things slow and gentle and long, exploring each other with a reverence that I've never experienced with any other lover. After my Master, I doubt seriously that I could stand anyone else touching me. Even if I were to return to being a man tomorrow, I think that would still be true.

Stretching against him and feeling our differences ­ where he was scratchy, where I was soft; where he was hard, where I was soft; where he was lean and I was not -- that was pure luxury. I ran my hands down his chest, across the rock-hard stomach and tensing thighs. I had the privilege of cradling him in my hands and knowing without a doubt that he wanted me. For the first time, it struck me what a miracle this was. I was a Padawan -- the weaker of our team ­ and he loved me. This Jedi Master, this power of Light and Force made flesh... this man whom I knew set duty above all else in his life... He ached and arched and wanted me.

On a groan, he slid deep inside of me, rocked me gently and loved me as no one else in my life ever had or ever would. In that moment, I knew peace. In that moment, I knew that Qui-Gon had made everything all right.

(Yes, there's more. But let's at least leave the guys in peace for a few nights, okay?)