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Re-Entry: Time Without Name, Part III

by Flamethrower

Title: Re-Entry: Time Without Name, Part III

Author: Flamethrower

Archive: MA & The Flamethrower's Archive

Category: Q/O, AU, hurt/comfort, angst, non-con, romance, POV

Rating: Oh, most definitely Adult, for there is horribleness as well as smut. But there's more schmoop than direness.

Warning: Rape of a minor. Seriously, not a pretty scene. (Easily avoidable, however)

Spoilers: Nada.

Summary: Family is a circle of the past, the present, and the future. Family also tends to plot behind your back to make sure you get married in appropriate circumstances.

Feedback: I love you allllll.

Thanks: Merry Amelie, mrs_stanley (DWj), and writestufflee, who are the finest damn betas a hack writer could ask for. Once again, they help whip r-Entry into shape.

Standard, well-abused Disclaimer:

"Rob? That's a naughty word, we never rob! We just... sort of borrow."
"Borrow? Boy, are we in debt!"


Series order:
Waking Dream
Cold
Diverging Paths
Diverging Paths II
Diverging Paths III
Diverging Paths IV
Attainment I
Attainment II
OtherWhen
OtherWhen II
OtherWhen III
OtherWhen IV
OtherWhen V
OtherWhen: Epilogue
The Yinchorri Uprising
Time Without Name I
Time Without Name II

From the journal of Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master
Republic Standard Date 5200, Fourth month, 18th day
Planet Kaazcint, Outer Rim

It's been six months since the Battle of Theed, the name of the small war we waged to retake Naboo from the Trade Federation. Time enough for a new century to arrive, and for the leaves on the trees of Shmi and Cliegg's farm here on Kaazcint to begin to fall.

Our initial six-month rest period will be up in a few weeks, and Abella has already confided to myself and Obi-Wan that she will be informing her Master and the Council that our leave is to be extended at least another three months. Obi-Wan looked as if he wanted to protest, but the Chitanook Healer-Elect told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going anywhere until he'd been off all restrictions for three months. Besides, the timing will be most fortuitous - we will not miss the birth of his, Owen, and Anakin's sister.

Shmi Skywalker-Lars announced her pregnancy to the family a week after our return from Tatooine. Obi-Wan had known already, which amused me. I imagine we were all paying much more attention to him, and he noticed what we, in our concern for his health, did not. Owen demanded immediately to feel the baby kick, while their father, Cliegg, looked as if someone had slipped him euphoric drugs. Anakin was shell-shocked. I don't think it ever occurred to him that his mother might one day bear more children, since he has long been used to the idea of being an only child. I congratulated her, glad to see her so happy, to see the life Obi-Wan and I enabled her to have. When asked if she wanted to know the sex, she and Cliegg deliberated for a time before deciding yes. Now the entire household is waiting for Baby Girl Lars, since no one has been able to settle on a name. Shmi noted that she couldn't name Anakin until she saw his face, and contends that it will be the same with her new daughter.

When Obi-Wan first joined us for training again, harsher activities were, of course, off-limits, but even gentle exercises left him gasping for breath. This has gotten better in the last few weeks, but it has less to do with mine and our Padawans' encouragement and more to do with Obi-Wan's innate stubbornness. I will admit that the bacta did wonders for Obi-Wan's recovery; without it, I know without a doubt that we would not be returning to Coruscant for a full year or longer. Still, even with that miraculous substance, his energy levels are slow to return. Though we have never dealt with the narcolepsy that Ra'um-Ve predicted, it was only in the last month that my love finally made it a full twelve hours without needing rest. Abella has been watching our workouts with a speculative gaze that tells me she may rescind the last of Obi-Wan's restrictions soon, which I know will please him.

And well, if I am looking forward to such a thing for reasons other than training, that is something Abella need never know. She never expected to counsel one of her friends about a lifebond, let alone his sex life, but she would have taken it in stride if not for my presence. From our last correspondence, I know Jale Terza is amused that I have been scandalizing her Padawan. Yes, the infamous Master Jinn has sex. You'd think, from the way the tips of Abella's furred ears turn blonde in embarrassment, that we were discussing Master Yoda's nocturnal habits.

If Obi-Wan's recovery would have been difficult before, contending with the wounds that Sidious's Hand, Jeng Droga, dealt him, then what came later… My hand shakes as I write this, for there is not a day that goes by that I do not wake up and think it a miracle that Obi-Wan is alive. He keeps making jokes about being shy a few body parts and a few brain cells, but it is harder on some days than others to smile at the notion. My mate has one working kidney and is missing part of his liver and gastrointestinal tract. When we return to Coruscant, there may be another round of surgeries and healings, if Healer Terza decides his body will cope with replacements for what was lost. This makes Obi-Wan happy and yet frustrates him, even if the second round of recovery would be much less strenuous and far shorter than this one.

It helps that we both have something delightful to consider, offsetting such apprehensive thoughts. A few days after Shmi's announcement, Obi-Wan casually made his own in his… unique way. He approached his father and asked the man if there were any tax breaks on Kaazcint if Cliegg gained a Jedi Master for a son-in-law.

"I will, at least, earn a reputation for having half the Jedi Order living under my roof," Cliegg responded, grinning. Some part of me that wasn't sure what to expect relaxed; it was one thing for us to be sharing a bed under his roof, but I've come to understand that non-Jedi families tend to be a bit volatile about the subject of marriage.

"It's about freaking time," Anakin told us, and Shmi scolded him. "Well, it is!" Anakin insisted. "They're like, two years behind schedule!"

"These things happen in their own time," Shmi said, grinning at me.

Anakin protested again, whereupon Obi-Wan picked up his Padawan with the Force, took him outside, and dumped him in the pond.

Force, do I love him-- quirks, temper, sense of humor - all of him. He is my copper-haired imp, fire to my water.

My dear friend Tahl would, of course, joke about how water and fire make steam.

How right she would be.



Obi-Wan stirred to the feel of something moving in his hair. He cracked one eye open in response, considering the matter. Check that, he thought muzzily. There was something wet in his hair.

That realization was followed by a very displeased squeak, and then something began chewing on his earlobe with desperate intensity. And it was not the sort of chewing he welcomed.

"Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, love?" his bedmate responded, sounding a touch guilty.

"Did the barn cat you made friends with decide to give birth on my head?"

"On both of our heads, actually," Qui-Gon admitted.

Obi-Wan sighed, trying very hard not to smile so that he could continue to sound grumpy and unimpressed. "Would you please redirect the little one nursing on my ear back to his mother?"

Qui-Gon chuckled; a moment later the chewing on his ear disappeared, and the angry squeak was repeated. "I think he likes you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan gave up and rolled over, winding up almost nose-to-nose with a purring sack of orange happiness, who blinked calm, sleepy, proud yellow eyes at him. "This is not your bed," Obi-Wan told her sternly.

The new mother mowed at him and continued to nurse her litter, unconcerned. He counted and found five new tiny balls of kitten nestled up against her, eating their first breakfast: three were orange, one was orange with black spots that made it look like a Nerf, and the last was solid black. Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon, who was propped on his elbow, his fingers stroking idly through the cat's thick orange fur. "I take it you decided to allow her to make a mess of our pillows?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I woke up halfway through the birthing process, once the bed was already soaked. I think our guest here joined us by climbing in the open window in the middle of the night."

"Figures." Obi-Wan smiled and received a lick to his nose from the cat. "Fine, you can stay. In the meantime, I'm going back to sleep."

"Not a good idea," Qui-Gon said in gentle reminder. "Remember what today is?"

Obi-Wan thought about it and sighed. "Oh. Yes. Well, this is an auspicious start to the day."

"I consider it a good omen," Qui-Gon countered, scratching the barn cat's ears and causing her purring to become even louder. "New lives, born on the day Abella lifts the rest of your restrictions."

"Yes, well, your good omen decided to leave fresh blood and glop in my hair," Obi-Wan muttered, getting up and hunting for some appropriate clothing. "I'm going to go kick Owen out of the shower."


He bathed and fetched clean linens for the bed from the hall closet, along with a large, fluffy towel for their guests, who were going to find themselves migrating to the foot of the bed. Just because he was willing to share didn't mean he would put up with Qui-Gon scritching cats instead of him.

Possessive much, love? Qui-Gon asked him, sounding amused.

Why, yes, thank you for noticing, Obi-Wan replied drolly, entering the kitchen just in time to redirect Owen away from an entire block of cheese and into helping Obi-Wan with making enough breakfast for everyone.

"Still haven't lost the habit, have you?" he teased, as Owen stirred batter with a fierce look of concentration. Meeting Owen awake just after sunup had become a usual occurrence instead of a rarity.

"Nu uh," his little brother said. "I thought just the once with Master Windu and Tuuvino was fun, but now I get up that way all the time and do those exercises with Qui-Gon and Ani and Rill. Why do I keep doing this, Ben?" Owen asked, sounding plaintive. "I hate dawn."

Obi-Wan began an explanation, telling Owen about endorphins and serotonin and that yes, their bodies really were hard-wired for insanity, when Shmi entered the kitchen, motioning blearily for tea. She was over six months pregnant, now, and only glowed once she got past the morning nausea. She'd confessed that her first pregnancy had been just as unfortunate, but during that time she'd been the property of a sympathetic owner on Kabray Station and hadn't been punished for being unable to work. The harshness of her morning sickness was the reason Obi-Wan had taken over cooking duties, despite Shmi's half-hearted protests.

Qui-Gon entered the kitchen, fresh from his own shower, and announced his presence to Obi-Wan by wrapping his arms around him from behind. The hair on the back of Obi-Wan's neck was brushed aside, and a warm kiss was pressed against his skin. Obi-Wan felt his eyes roll back. Owen snickered at him.

You purr better than any cat, Qui-Gon said, such heat in his words that Obi-Wan had to think intensely about ice water and glaciers or have a very noticeable problem.

You are evil, Obi-Wan replied, when he could think of something intelligible to say. Help me with breakfast.

Yes, General, Qui-Gon said, a hint of a smile on his face as he danced out of range of Obi-Wan's swat.

"So, back to the important stuff," Owen said, prodding Obi-Wan with the end of his spoon when he didn't respond quickly enough. "You're going to be outside with us today, right?"

"That's right," Obi-Wan said, smiling as he helped Owen pour the batter onto the griddle. "I want to see how well you do."

"Good," Owen replied, digging through a drawer for a spatula. "I want to learn to do it as fast as they can, and you have to help me."

"You'd need to be able to feel the Force for that," Obi-Wan said, tugging on Owen's hair. His brother wanted a Padawan braid, just like Anakin and Rillian's, and had been growing one for months. "They're using it to augment their speed."

"So, teach me how, then," Owen retorted. "If the Force is in everything, then it's in me, too, and I just can't see it yet."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to spout off one of the standard answers they gave to non-sensitives and paused. All are welcome here, Ulic had said, and Obi-Wan hadn't questioned him further. Perhaps he should have - did Ulic mean that all had been welcome on Ossus to use the Library, or to study the Force? Or both?

"Tell you what," he said at last, aware of the fact that Qui-Gon was listening for his answer, also. "Let me think about it. In the meantime, I'll help you with the kata you've been trying to learn, all right?"

"Okay, Ben," Owen said, grinning. "I can finish these. Go make Mom's toast - she looks like she needs it."

"Yes, sir." Obi-Wan went over to make the requested toast, earning an arm around his waist from Qui-Gon as he did so.

What's on your mind, love? Qui-Gon asked. You know how these things work. It would have been better to let him down now than have this blow up in your face later.

Just remembering something I was told, and I think Owen has a valid point, Obi-Wan said, frowning. And teaching him to meditate won't hurt him, that's for certain.

No, it won't, Qui-Gon agreed, and let the subject drop. Don't overeat, or you'll throw up on your first day.

A naughty smile on his face, Obi-Wan caressed his mate's quiescent cock with a Force-touch, making Qui-Gon swear under his breath at the unexpected but desired contact. "Yes, Master."


The first morning kata was performed at half-speed for everyone's benefit, not just his. If he hadn't already been running through the lighter Mistryl exercises and a few of the basic open-handed katas at quarter-speed, Obi-Wan would have been physically destroyed after the first half-hour. There was still a token wince of protest from his insides - the new scar tissue was still stretching, getting used to the demands he placed on his body.

Obi-Wan watched Owen with a critical eye as the next kata began, this one performed at full speed, and tried to view him as a prospective student. His brother's form was good, and Owen had the right kind of physical strength, created by life on a farm. Owen wouldn't be hindered by the lack of the Force until he reached the upper-level katas, or needed to perform them at Jedi speeds. Obi-Wan didn't think Owen would ever be Jedi material, though, and fortunately that wasn't what Owen wanted. He liked farming and knew he was suited for it, and was happy with that. Hearing the Force, though - that, Obi-Wan mused, might almost be possible. It wasn't like the talent didn't run in the family. Hells, he didn't even know what his brother's midichlorian count was.

So, ignore that for now, since it's unimportant. First see if Owen has the ability to settle down long enough to learn to meditate, and build from there, Obi-Wan told himself, wincing as he came down on his foot wrong and almost twisted his ankle. Force, but he was still in rough shape. No wonder Bella was insisting upon another three to four months of downtime; Obi-Wan needed it.

Owen went back inside to get ready for school, which left the four of them to face off in pairs. Rillian and Qui-Gon saluted each other with their lightsabers, getting in an early morning spar. Anakin and Obi-Wan debated and finally settled on an open-handed version of a Form III kata, since Obi-Wan was still unsure if he could handle the acrobatics of the ataru.

They circled each other once, paced in, and let their hands connect with open palms, stepped back, and then swung at each other again. It was, Obi-Wan reflected, sweat pouring from his body, easier to do this particular kata with a blade. "Next time we're using sticks," he suggested, when they were side-by-side. He locked his elbow around Anakin's arm and turned in a hard arc, flinging Anakin into the air as he did so.

Anakin landed, rolled properly, stood up, and stepped back into the pace of the kata with perfect timing. "Forget the sticks," Anakin said, biting his lip in concentration. "You need to build a damned lightsaber already."

"I know that," Obi-Wan retorted, narrowing his eyes before darting in and landing a hit on Anakin's shoulder with his knuckles.

Anakin grumbled under his breath and corrected his guard. "Then what's the holdup? I think Kimal sent every handgrip in your size that the Temple makes."

"I think he did, too. None of them feel right, though."

"You didn't have that problem last time," Anakin pointed out. "Master Qui-Gon says you put that lightsaber together in less than eight hours. That's almost faster than one of my times."

"I didn't know there was a competition," Obi-Wan replied, watching his Padawan circle around him.

Anakin grinned at him and swept in with his leg; too late Obi-Wan recognized it for the feint that it was and by that time he was on his back, the 'blade' of Anakin's fingertips at his throat. "Man, you haven't lost to that one in years, Master."

Obi-Wan coughed several times, discovered his muscles were aching with fatigue, and decided he was going to lie on the ground for a little while. "Consider me well-defeated, then."

Anakin plopped down onto grass beside him, both of them watching as Rillian lost her bout against her Master, but not without leaving a scorch mark on Qui-Gon's shirt in the process. "Go, Rillian!" Anakin cheered her.

Rillian bowed to Qui-Gon, which he returned before ruffling the short hair on top of her head. "Good job, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "This afternoon you can use both lightsabers against me."

[Does that mean you'll let me win?] Rillian asked, her eyes bright with humor.

"Not a chance." Qui-Gon settled onto the ground next to Obi-Wan. "I wasn't looking - how did you do?"

"Lost gracefully by falling on my ass," Obi-Wan replied, feeling more rivulets of sweat run through his hair. "Otherwise, not bad. I don't know if you'll get me through this afternoon's run and another sparring session, but I'm not going to be useless, either. And Rillian, the next time he swings at you with both hands and you're using that particular counter, try stepping into it instead of stepping back."

Rillian blinked in surprise. [But… you never do. Neither does Anakin.]

"Yeah, but we're not Wookiees," Anakin replied, elbowing Rillian with a grin. "You've got better body strength than we do, even at this age. Try it. He usually has a good eye for these things."

"What's this 'usually' nonsense?" Obi-Wan groused good-naturedly. "Watch yourself, Anakin - I'm not going to be an old cripple for much longer."
"Nah, just old," Anakin said, and burst out laughing when Obi-Wan swatted him on the back of the head with the Force.

"Watch who you're calling old, Padawan. You're only ten and a half years younger than I am," Obi-Wan said, grinning at the stunned look on Anakin's face. "What, did you forget that?"

"Uh… yeah, I guess I did," Anakin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… geeze. I'm fifty-two?"

Rillian barked out laughter. [Hah! Old man Padawan!]

Anakin glared at her. "I don't feel like I'm fifty-two. I mean, I didn't experience a lot of those years. I keep thinking I'm twenty-four, or twenty-seven, or something like that."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "So, pick one and stick with it. I certainly won't argue with you. Though…" he paused. "What are we going to do about that?"

"Do about what?" Anakin asked, puzzled. Even Qui-Gon seemed confused by Obi-Wan's question.

"You've been Knighted once already, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, trying not to feel nervous about broaching the subject. "Despite what happened, I still stand by my words - you earned it."

Anakin frowned. "Maybe. Master Windu asked me what I wanted to do, too, before he went back to Coruscant when we were all still on Naboo. I told him I wanted to discuss it with you, first."

"And?" Obi-Wan asked, curious.

Anakin shrugged. "A ten year-old Jedi Knight is ridiculous, even to me. I don't exactly mind being your Padawan, and I don't have the same massive amount of impatience that I used to. I can wait. Besides," he continued, a merciless, teasing grin on his face. "If I'm not around, who's going to rescue you the next time you fall into a nest of Gundarks?"

"I didn't fall in," Obi-Wan protested, while Rillian and Qui-Gon laughed. "I slipped. There's a difference!"

"Only in your head, Master," Anakin said, crossing his arms and looking smug.



By the end of the first week of training, he could make the afternoon run - five kilometers over varying terrain around the farm - and hold his own through a sparring session, though he was usually lying in an exhausted heap by the end of it all. He'd taken to borrowing Qui-Gon's blade, fending off Anakin or Rillian, but that had to end, and soon. He wasn't sure why, but he was missing something important, something vital, for this particular lightsaber, and he wasn't going to build it until he found the missing piece.

The sudden increase in intense exercise meant that he would lie down in his bed at night and pass out before he could even blink. Here he was, off all physical restrictions, and he couldn't even hold his eyes open long enough to contemplate masturbating, let alone sex.

Qui-Gon tried to let him sleep in after the first night he fell into bed, exhausted, and when Obi-Wan woke up the next day he read his former Master the riot act on how that was absolutely fucking unacceptable. It was their first real fight since they'd created the lifebond, and it was like a physical slap in the face as their own roiling emotions - anger and worry and fear-- washed back and forth along that fragile strand. They wound up in each other's arms, fight forgotten, both of them shaking and holding on for dear life.

"What, so we don't even get to argue anymore?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised by the tears in his eyes.

"Shhh," Qui-Gon whispered, holding him tighter still. "I think we will, considering how many tiffs we've managed in the past. But this is still an unfinished work, this lifebond. We have some… ah… communing to do to strengthen it."

"Bella meant more than just sex," Obi-Wan muttered, knowing that Qui-Gon was taking a bit of delight in shattering Abella's view of certain Masters.

"I know," Qui-Gon replied, and then kissed him. The bond began to settle as Obi-Wan returned the kiss, and they almost wound up missing dawn practice, anyway.



"Ars Welve," Obi-Wan said apropos of nothing.

Qui-Gon looked up from where his head was pillowed in his mate's lap. He'd been enjoying the feel of Obi-Wan's nails against his scalp. Both of them were resting in a near-meditative state under the shade of a massive tree, watching as the occasional yellow leaf fluttered to the ground nearby. It was rare that they got downtime together during the day without the Padawans; Rillian was playing with some of Owen's friends from school, while Anakin was working indoors, putting together a coding program for one of his Temple classes.

"What about him?" Qui-Gon asked, when he finally managed to place the name. He hadn't thought much about Roinall V, their first mission with Anakin, since Palpatine had admitted to it being the first attempt on Obi-Wan's life. If Darth Maul had resorted to up close and personal means instead of those Barriak missiles…

"It's not a him," Obi-Wan sighed. "It's a Sith phrase, not a name. I imagine it's why Sidious went ahead with his plans for Naboo, since neither Anakin nor I recognized the danger. Ars welve means 'path to death.'"

"Ah," Qui-Gon said, suddenly understanding where Obi-Wan's discomfort was coming from. His love still had trouble dealing with his memories of that time. "You're thinking that if you had recognized the phrase sooner, Naboo might have been spared an invasion?"

"I just… I don't know," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. "Maybe. Or things could have been worse, considering what Sidious had Master Jil-Hyra do to the creche."

Qui-Gon nodded; despite the repairs that had proceeded in their absence, the bombing had been hard on the Order's morale, and they still were housing the children in spare quarters in the towers. In both instances, there was nothing that could be done, but he understood Obi-Wan's frustration - all too well.

"Spill it, Qui," Obi-Wan said after a moment, picking up on Qui-Gon's thoughts through the bond. "What's on your mind?"

"What happened when I went to Devoria?" he asked. Qui-Gon knew it was not a subject Obi-Wan would likely view with fondness, but he had once been Master to Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, and that part of himself was still reeling, still needed to know what he'd missed. He'd been waiting for the right moment, but really, when would it be the right time to ask about such a thing?

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and looked heavenward, sighing. "Of all the… you want me to tell you about that. Has it been bothering you so much?"

"My Padawan suffered because of my absence," Qui-Gon said, sitting up. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, resting his chin on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Of course I would want to know, and it wasn't as long ago for me as it was for you. The idea is… harder to let go of."

"On two conditions, then," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's muscles turning to iron with tension. "You won't feel guilt for something that was literally beyond your control, and you won't go verbally assaulting those that knew and kept the information from you. I made them promise, so if you're going to yell at anyone, it'd better damn well be me."

"As to the first, I will try my best, Obi-Wan, but you well know that it is the Master's prerogative to feel guilt on behalf of our students," he said, and Obi-Wan nodded ruefully. "As to the second, I won't go out and verbally flay our allies." Or you, he added silently.

For a few minutes Obi-Wan said nothing, but Qui-Gon could sense his struggle, even through his newly constructed shielding. "I was fourteen. The probation was a month shy of being finished, and since your mission to Devoria was more personal than professional in nature, I was banned from accompanying you. I didn't think of it that way at the time, as you may recall."

"You hid it well, but you were terrified that you had done something wrong, and it was only a precursor to being sent away," Qui-Gon murmured. He remembered the grief and fear that had filled his Padawan's eyes when Obi-Wan thought no one was looking. "I didn't know how to reassure you that it was not the case - I think at that point you were still much in the habit of thinking that the Council could tell me what to do and that it would stick."

Obi-Wan uttered a soft, cheerless laugh. "Silly git, wasn't I?"

"No," Qui-Gon said. "Just a boy, whose faith in the Force had been shaken by my idiocy. I decided the best way of reassuring you was to leave you in Tahl's care."

"It did help," Obi-Wan said, taking up his stilted narrative once more. "She didn't waste time doing her best to shake me out of my funk. She told me in no uncertain terms that you would be back for me, and I'd figure out soon enough that Qui-Gon Jinn did whatever the hell he wanted. I was so… so startled by her saying that to me. She treated me like I was a person, not a Padawan with a black track record. And when Mace kept talking to me like I was going to be sent away at any moment, I thought she was going to bash him in the head."

"Did she?" Qui-Gon asked, amused. This part of the tale he knew; Tahl had verbally reamed Mace for taking his role as taskmaster too far. Obi-Wan had hidden his feelings too well from the man, and Mace hadn't realized that he was doing damage at that point, not reiterating a well-deserved lesson.

"No, but we went back to her quarters and I think I giggled for hours, thinking about her swiping Yoda's gimer stick and bashing Mace Windu with it," Obi-Wan said. "It helped me to see him more clearly as well, though that sort of realization would be months in the making. The next morning, Tahl decided it was time to get outside for a day. She hadn't been out of the Temple in months, and I hadn't been out of the Temple unless I was on a mission with you."

Qui-Gon realized with a start that he hadn't even considered Tahl's feelings in all of this. "How she must have felt," he whispered, shocked and more than a little ashamed of himself. "Suggesting the very thing that-"

"Not her fault, Qui, and I told her that myself every day until I was certain that she believed me," Obi-Wan said. "Stop interrupting me."

"Yes, Master Kenobi," he replied.

Obi-Wan growled at him, which made him smile. "Regardless, the next day we went out into the market district around the Temple. It was a familiar place for Tahl, so she could navigate by memory as well as the Force. It was also as far from the Temple as we could go without my handlers throwing a collective fit.

"It was crowded that day, and so hot - hotter than it usually is on Coruscant." Obi-Wan's voice grew distant. "By the time I noticed the Offworld refugees, I'd lost sight of Tahl, couldn't find her anywhere." Qui-Gon frowned, remembering the problems they'd had in the year after Xanatos's death. His former Padawan's suicide meant that Offworld had fallen with him, leaving angry hordes of miners and pilots with no jobs to occupy their time. Some had moved on. Some had resorted to piracy. Some had just drifted, causing trouble as they went.

"I wasn't the only one who couldn't keep track of their companions that day. There was a little Twi'lek girl wandering alone. She couldn't have been older than five Standard, and I watched them lead her out of the crowd, down an alleyway. I followed. I wasn't stupid. I knew what they were going to do. I knew that I was outnumbered. But I had no idea what else to do, and they… they were giants to her, Qui," he said, and his voice cracked. "If I'd left even for a moment, they would have torn her apart."

Qui-Gon tightened his embrace. "I know, love. I wouldn't have blamed you for making that choice, even if…"

"Even if it led to dire consequences for me?" Obi-Wan finished. "We are Jedi. She was helpless. Even if I was still half-certain I was going to be booted from the Temple, I knew what I was risking. Her life over mine - it was an easy decision to make," he said, and sighed.

"I rounded a garbage bin and found them trying to remove the little red hellion's leather dress. I…" With that Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon's hand, a tentative seeking through their bond, and Qui-Gon signaled his agreement, and watched as the memory unfolded in his mind:

She was a fighter, Obi-Wan saw. The little red hellion was squirming in the grasp of the miner that held her, biting and kicking at anyone who came too close. It was difficult to remove leather clothes under any circumstances, and she wasn't going to make it easy for them. Her clan had begun her physical training in earnest, and it showed, but Obi-Wan knew it wasn't enough.

"Put her down," he ordered, trying to put steel into his words, and was proud when his voice didn't crack. He ignited his lightsaber, the pale blue lighting up the dingy alley and casting all of their shadows into stark relief. There were six of them, all of them bearing the old short-cut jackets of former Offworld employees. Crap. He and Master Qui-Gon had seen the ragtag remnants of Xanatos's corporation floating around the galaxy, but he didn't think they'd be so bold as to hole up right next to the Temple!

"What are you going to do about it, kid?" the closest one asked, sneering and revealing teeth that were starting to rot.

In answer Obi-Wan darted out with his blade, scoring a long burn down the man's arm. The Offworlder howled and grabbed his injured arm, and the girl took the opportunity to elbow her captor in the groin. The miner didn't scream so much as wheezed out his agony, and he fell to the ground like a string-cut puppet with both of his hands clasped over his crotch.

She launched herself, running straight under the third man's legs when he tried to grab her. Obi-Wan let her pass and stepped into the miner's path, giving the Twi'lek her chance. "Run!" he yelled, putting as much of a compulsion into the word that he could as he swung his lightsaber and severed the arm of the Offworlder that tried to grab for her. The rest of the Offworlders surged upon him, his blade not enough of a deterrent in the face of his obvious youth.

He fought hard; it had been a trying year, after all, and he'd learned a lot about fights that didn't involve lightsabers. Melida-Daan had been good for that, if nothing else. There were more shrieks as his lightsaber found its mark again; the stench of burnt cloth and flesh filled the air.

He did well, for a time, but he faced five Offworlders, all of them solid and strong and bitter, and he was still learning. Something solid and hard crashed into his jaw. His head rocked back, and Obi-Wan saw red streaks explode out of blackness. Another fist hit the back of his head, and this time he saw bright white stars before another large, meaty hand gripped his arm and twisted.

He screamed at the fire that lanced through him. He'd broken bones during training, but no matter the circumstances, it always hurt-

His lightsaber was snatched from his nerveless hand, and he was almost certain that he was going to throw up. Rough hands grabbed his hair, yanking cruelly at the short Padawan braid, and several other hands confined him, stripped him of his belt. "No callin' for your Master now, boy. You do that, and we'll leave two Jedi to rot in this alley," the threat was hissed in his ear, full of dark promise.

I can't call for him, you idiots. He's on fucking Devoria, Obi-Wan thought, and was amazed at the burble of bitter laughter that spilled out of his mouth. He was going to die in an alley, and his Master wouldn't even know. At least Obi-Wan would spare him that, spare him the pain of having to watch yet another Padawan die.

"Shut up!" The one who'd spoken first, the one whose arm he'd burned, was shouting at him. "You lost us our prize, boy. We were looking forward to that tight little cunt. Twi'leks are always sluts, no matter how young they are."

That kindled his anger, and with that he remembered that he was far from helpless. Despite his spinning head and screaming arm, he called up on the Force and shoved.

He nailed two of the miners with the Force swat, but two was not five. The next fist that crashed into his temple made his vision go completely dark, and he felt something give that should never give. He was falling… really falling, sprawling on the filthy pavement of the alley. His ears were roaring.

He tried opening his eyes, but he couldn't quite focus on what he wanted to see -- his vision kept slipping off to the side of what he tried to focus on, or was blurred, or there was nothing at all to look at. His view changed every time he blinked. He reached for the Force again and kept reaching, for it slipped further and further from him.

"Shit, man, you hit him too fucking hard!"

"Who the hell cares? You think we were going to use the boy and then let him waltz back to that Temple and tell Judicial our names? I didn't think you were that fucking stupid, Jover."

"Come on, help me with these boots…"

Their words faded out again, and his head lolled as they pulled him and divested him of his boots and his leggings. They didn't bother with trying to puzzle out his tunics. He saw the flash of a knife before cloth was severed from his neck to his hip. The ghost of a breeze cooled his stomach before they ripped the remains of his clothes from him.

Obi-Wan had the vague thought that he was very badly injured, possibly dying, but that seemed just as unimportant as being stripped. He couldn't quite bring himself to care.

They rolled him over, and he felt rough hands, heard coarse laughter. The pavement was harsh on his bare genitals, but he was busy, fascinated by the blur of bright red that was starting to pool on the ground next to his head. Pretty.

Not even dying was enough of a distraction when he was smothered by weight, lanced by sharp, horrendous pain that threatened to split him in two. He gasped in a breath and realized that he couldn't scream - his mouth and his brain had gone their separate ways. He could scream in his head, though. Anything to drown out the sound of skin slapping against skin, the stench of unwashed body that was assaulting his nose, the jeering of the remaining Offworlders.

Can't I die any faster? Obi-Wan found himself wondering, as the Offworlder grunted in his ear, blabbing some nonsense that he didn't want to hear. Did he have to suffer through this, too? He'd taken enough blows to the head, especially that last one, that he shouldn't even be conscious. Force. What a time to discover that he was hard-headed.

"You have a sweet ass, boy," the Offworlder said, still piercing him with those agonizing, repetitive thrusts. "Your Master must've broken you in good. I'll have to offer my thanks!"

He gritted his teeth, enraged and unable to give voice to it. He settled for the next best thing - he forced his arm to obey him, lifting his hand and grabbing for anything, searching…

His fingers found flesh, and he grabbed and yanked with what strength he had left, pleased when a ragged scream was the result. Warmth flowed over his hand, and he clenched his fingers around his prize and refused to let go. The pain stopped, the weight disappeared. "You little bastard!" the Offworlder screeched. Obi-Wan hissed out pained breaths as kicks started impacting his sides and ribs and legs and ass from at least three different boots. "I'll kill you for that-"

His voice ended with an unexpected gurk before the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the pavement came to Obi-Wan's ears. "If the rest of you know what's good for you, you'll run."

Tahl. Tahl, sounding like the Jedi Master she was, strong and confident, her voice like a velvet-wrapped vibroblade. He wept, finally, as he realized he wasn't going to die in this stupid alley after all.

He heard running steps, but they mixed together and he had no idea who ran or who stayed, and he drifted out again to the sound of a lightsaber in motion. He hadn't seen her ignite a lightsaber in the entire year he'd known her.

Warm hands touched him, followed by a whispered curse. "Oh, my boy, what the hell am I going to tell your Master?"

His stomach clenched in panic. No! No, don't you dare! Don't tell him! he yelled in his own head, and some obstinate part of himself tried to make his body crawl away.

"All right, Obi-Wan! Calm, calm. I won't speak of it - you don't need to deafen me," Tahl was saying, her voice soft and soothing, none of the vibroblade in her words now. She turned him over, and he stared up. Each time he tried to look at her face, his vision slipped to the left.

"Force bless it," she whispered, and her blind eyes were leaking tears. "Obi-Wan, focus on me. Keep your focus here, please," she said, pointing with two fingers at her eyes. He wondered about that, knowing she wouldn't be able to see if he was complying. Habit, maybe. And her eyes were pretty, fascinating stripes of gold and green...

"Focus, Obi-Wan, as much as you can - I know it's hard. Don't sleep!"

He obeyed, and did not sleep, but his eyes wouldn't follow instructions, and he couldn't track her finger like she asked, or speak when she questioned him. Tahl threw her robe over him, and he was grateful for the soft weight of it. They waited together until he heard more running steps and caught the swirls of brown and red robes out of the corner of his eye. If there were words exchanged, he lost them to dizziness when he was picked up, held in strong arms and carried. He dropped into darkness when the Jedi who'd come to their aid began to run with Force-enhanced speed for the Temple.

He'd already met Master Healer Jale Terza, when Abella was apprenticed out of the creche. When he woke up to her hands on his face, he smiled and tried to say hello, but the words wouldn't come.

"Keep trying," she murmured, her eyes closed. "It helps me do my work, if you're trying to get your brain and your mouth to learn to communicate again."

He knew better than to ask questions. Questions were for later, when his head wasn't pounding and his stomach wasn't trying to climb up out of his throat.

The nausea eased in the next moment, and Obi-Wan spent a long, indeterminate amount of time trying to speak while energy tickled and chilled and warmed his head. He told her about his very crappy day without ever moving his lips, and asked about the Twi'lek girl he'd saved.

The last word of the last sentence he tried emerged, cracked and broken and rasping. "--name?"

"What, Obi-Wan?" Healer Terza asked, opening her eyes and smiling at him.

"What was her name?" he rasped again.

"Shia'nelal. Her name is Shia'nalel, and you saved her life, you foolishly brave, brave boy. If my Padawan hadn't been in class today you'd have broken her heart, coming into my Ward in such a state."

"I'm sorry," he said, and his heart seized in his chest. He couldn't think of a more direct way to prove to the Council that they were right about him. Jedi Knight? In this sorry state? He was a joke.

"No, Padawan. I'm sorry, that's not what I--" and he slipped away, asleep before he heard whatever she might have said.

He dreamed of dying on Melida-Daan, a blessedly forgotten footnote of war.

Qui-Gon realized he was weeping, his face buried against Obi-Wan's shoulder, soaking his shirt. "Gods," he whispered. "I almost lost you and never even knew it. Force take it, Obi-Wan, why didn't you tell me!?"

"Shh," Obi-Wan said, taking his hand, soothing him with touch and a mental caress through the bond. "There's more. Listen:

He was awake, distressed, and very much alone in the room. The Healer, Terza, had told him she'd take him off the monitors if he remained stable for twenty-six hours. He was glad for that, because if his own thoughts didn't drive him mad, that stupid beeping would.

"Hey, kiddo," Tahl said, knocking on the doorframe before stepping inside. She smiled at him, though her eyes were focused somewhere above his head. "Want some company?"

"I would love some company, Master Tahl," Obi-Wan admitted. "Especially considering that my probation is either going to last for the rest of my life, or I'm about to become homeless."

Tahl tilted her head but didn't respond to his statement. "I brought someone with me. Do you mind if she comes in?" Tahl asked, and it was then that Obi-Wan noticed that the Jedi Master had two shadows instead of one.

"Sure," he said, wary, until the second shadow stepped forward and he recognized her brilliant red skin.

"This is Shia'nelal," Tahl said, introducing the little red hellion. "Shian, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Despite the colorful bruises on his head, he's the boy who saved your life two days ago."

"Hi," she said, smiling in genuine delight. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live," he said, smiling back. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm just glad I found Master Tahl in the crowd," she said.

That explained his rescue. "Looks like we saved each other, then. Thank you."

She nodded. "You're welcome, Padawan Kenobi. But nobody can find my parents," she continued, irritated. "I'll bet you they got lost, too."

"Coruscant's a big place, little hellion," he said, trying to ignore Tahl's choked-back laughter at the nickname. "It's easy to get lost here. I'm sure they'll be found, and you can go home."

"Oh, I'm not going home," she said, and smiled again. "They were supposed to be bringing me here, anyway. I get to go to the creche!"

He stopped breathing for a moment, sure that he was staring at Shian like a wide-eyed idiot. "You're an Initiate, little hellion?"

"Yep!" she replied cheerfully. "I passed the testing yesterday. It was easy. I don't know what my clan was worried about."

He remembered to take a breath when his lungs began protesting the lack of air. He'd saved a child of the creche. Without even knowing it, he'd given someone else the chance he'd always longed for - the opportunity to become a Jedi Knight. Shia'nelal was going to be the bane and joy of her Master's existence one day, and he knew this with the rare certainty that the Force provided him.

And so will I, he thought, lifting his head, jaw set.

That was the way he looked at Master Windu when the Councilor came to visit him later that evening. "Hello, Obi-Wan," Master Windu greeted him, pulling up a chair to sit down next to his bed. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," he said. He was going to live, yes, but he was not going to tell a senior Council member that he was still peeing blood every time he made a trip to the 'fresher. Some things were for his Healer and his Healer alone to know about.

"I've been informed that Healer Terza will agree to your discharge tomorrow," Master Windu said.

Obi-Wan nodded. "That's right. And if you try to eject me from the Temple you'll need a giant pry bar and every Master in the Order to get me out of here. I'm staying."

"Really?" Master Windu gazed at him, his expression neutral, his eyes unfathomable. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because I'm meant to be here," Obi-Wan said, lifting his chin and glaring directly back at the Haruun Kal Master. "Because sometimes it's not up to the Council, it's up to the Force." Master Windu's lip twitched, and Obi-Wan plowed on before he could dwell on what that meant. "If I hadn't fought and insisted on my place here for the past year, if I'd given up, you'd have lost three Jedi, not just one."

"And how do you figure that?" Master Windu asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. That, at least, was an encouraging posture.

Obi-Wan held up three of the fingers on his right hand, ticking off each finger as he spoke. "Me. Shia'nelal. Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Do you think you're so important that a Jedi Master would be dead without your presence?"

Obi-Wan hesitated; if he had been asked that question three days ago, he would have said no. In light of recent events, though, and the time he'd had to think… "Yes. I do believe so, Master Windu. I think, if it weren't for my presence, my Master would have likely died trying to kill Xanatos. Or Xanatos would have killed him before he would have had the chance. So yes, I am saying that my place is here, that things are different because I'm here," he said, and bowed his head lest he be chided for defiance on top of everything else. "Master Windu."

To his immense surprise, Master Windu had a grin on his face when Obi-Wan looked back up. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

When utterly baffled, Obi-Wan had long considered honesty to be the best choice. "Er… no?"

"You once carried that certainty within yourself all the time," Master Windu told him. "It was in everything that you did as an Initiate. I used to enjoy watching you in the salles because I could almost see the Jedi Knight you were meant to be. And then, somewhere between Bandomeer and Melida-Daan, you lost that faith. If I've pushed you hard, it's because I wanted to see you have that faith in yourself once more. As far as I'm concerned, you're off probation."

Obi-Wan stared blankly at him for what must have been too long. "It's usually acceptable, in these circumstances, to say 'Thank you,'" Master Windu informed him dryly.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan whispered. He'd never expected to hear such things about himself from any Master, let alone Mace Windu.

Master Windu nodded. "Now, I haven't been able to get in touch with Qui-Gon yet, so he has no idea that you almost had your brains bashed in the other day."

"I thought I did have them bashed in," Obi-Wan ventured, and earned another grin from the reticent Councilor.

"You're just lucky you've got a hard head, Padawan Kenobi. Qui-Gon won't be returning for another two tens because of a transportation incident-" Faulty scheduling, Obi-Wan surmised - "so Master Tahl will continue to host you in her quarters until his return. You have some physical therapy on your schedule to make sure you haven't lost any mobility, and you're going to receive counseling from a Mind Healer, whether you like it or not."

Obi-Wan nodded. That didn't sound too bad. And Qui-Gon didn't know what had happened to him, not yet. He thought of what that sort of realization would do to his Master, and his stomach lurched. Oh, that would not be good, not good at all. "Will you… will you do something for me, Master Windu?"

"What is it?"

"Don't tell him," Obi-Wan pleaded, his voice quiet. "Don't tell my Master, not yet."

Master Windu's more typical annoyed glare surfaced once more. "That's ridiculous. Why would I agree to something like that?"

Obi-Wan bit his lip before speaking, chancing on the fact that Master Windu seemed to be a friend to Qui-Gon as long as there wasn't a Council meeting involved. "Master Windu, who is he going to blame?"

Master Windu scowled, shaking his head. "You learn fast, Obi-Wan. You're right - he'll blame himself."

"And considering Xanatos jumped into a pool of acid not long ago, I don't think that's the best thing for him right now. Do you?" Obi-Wan said, staring hard at him. "I'll attend all of the therapy you want and babble about my feelings until the galaxy inverts itself, just don't tell him this. Give it time. I'll tell him when things aren't so… stressed."

"I'll have to tell him something, some reason as to why I'm letting you off probation early," Master Windu cautioned, but Obi-Wan already had an answer for that. He did learn fast, after all, and his Master was good at this particular game.

"So just leave out the part where I got my ass kicked," he said, which made Master Windu laugh.


"And that's what happened," Obi-Wan said, cutting the memory short; there was no need to run through the therapy that had followed, the arguments he'd had with the Mind Healer assigned to his case. The poor woman insisted he must have been traumatized, and Obi-Wan insisted right back that as far as the situation went, almost dying was far worse than being raped. Besides, he'd managed to rip off his assailant's ear while damned-near helpless. That had to count for something.

Qui-Gon was shaking his head, a look of intense regret on his face. "My Padawan, always trying to protect me."

"Of course," Obi-Wan replied, half-smiling. "It was my job."

"Actually, it was supposed to be my job to protect you," Qui-Gon pointed out, and then he paused, the memory of another conversation striking them both.

Qui-Gon's other self, the one from Obi-Wan's other when, had spoken the words, trying to instill comfort in the face of overwhelming grief: You once worked so hard to keep me safe from the dark, Obi-Wan, when it was supposed to be my job to keep the darkness from you.

Qui-Gon sighed. "There is little I can say, Obi-Wan. Even then, you were right. I didn't yet have faith in my ability to do my best for you. It was only your faith, and the time we worked together from that point on, that restored my confidence." He smiled, reaching out to brush a tear from Obi-Wan's cheek, one he hadn't even realized had fallen. "How many times have you saved me, my love?"

Obi-Wan managed a weak laugh. "I don't know. Perhaps as many times as you've saved me?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "That sounds reasonable," he said, and drew Obi-Wan back into the warm, sheltering embrace of his arms. "But this particular sort of saving? Let's try to avoid it from now on, all right?"

Obi-Wan nodded, pressing his face against Qui-Gon's neck and breathing in, basking in the comforting scent of his mate. "Agreed."