Walk Softly And Carry A Big Lightsaber -- continued

by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)

Go on to part 3

Go on to part 4

Go on to part 5

The apprentices tended to gather in the large room next to the training salle when they were finished with their day.

Used for individual training, and rarely scheduled for other events, it was a place to work on one's routines alone, or simply to warm down after a challenging routine. Open to all apprentices, knights and masters, it had a more restrained ambience than the salle, where their juniors spent most of their time tumbling and attempting to fit their still awkward bodies to the moves that they saw performed. This room was a place of retreat. And also, as Obi-Wan knew well, a place to show off one's abilities so that others might be impressed by your prowess.

The Jedi equivalent of a tavern, it was the popular place to gather at the Academy. There were plenty of places to visit on Coruscant, but none offered the ability to simply be Jedi, openly and with one's friends.

Not that he had any friends.

Even at this early hour, there were already people congregating in the room. Two people were practicing tumbling on the floor, and one more was in the air, making use of the apparatus suspended there. Others sat on the edge of the floor, talking and watching.

If he wanted, he could likely pick up a partner and be on his way to making a relationship with that person before dinner.

What he wanted had nothing to do with sex, though. Nothing to do with the easy camaraderie of those all at the same level and under the same pressures. Or little, at any rate. His peers could probably empathize with his struggles, but Obi-Wan did not want to expose himself that way. What he was going through was a private thing, and to casually talk of it to near-strangers... he couldn't do that. It was hard enough to talk of it with Master Etil, who had a healer's right to know.

So why was here? Why had he come here instead of the showers?

Obi-Wan straightened, and walked over to the flying apparatus. He'd had his fall on a similar piece of equipment; this was where he needed the practice most.

For his own edification, he would continue to meditate on the question of what was a wise man. As a penance for his wounded soul.

Qui-Gon chose to meditate in a tiny garden near the top of the Jedi temple. Force-shielded, the garden would not otherwise survive in the heavily polluted air of Coruscant. Jedi lovingly tended the small enclosure, and it felt peaceful, carrying the psychic remnants of many past meditations.

Flowers did not bloom in this garden. Rather, it was given over to an exploration of the brush shrubs once native to Coruscant. Now that Coruscant had no natural flora or fauna, it was a well-preserved rarity, from a time when the Jedi temple had once stood in splendid isolation in the middle of its own garden, before the city and the planet had grown around it and choked that life off.

He settled himself on the stone meant for meditation, worn from the imprint of many knees over the years.

Loosing his tight control over his mind, he opened himself to the Force. He methodically sought out the sources of tension in his mind and body, soothing them until his mind was as at peace as it was going to get with his current problem weighing on his mind.

What to do about Obi-Wan. What to do about his own feelings. What his own feelings were.

The last was the most important question. He had already seen to Obi-Wan's disposition, and his apprentice would be well looked after. What to do with his feelings would and should flow from what those feelings were. What they were... well, that was the topic of this session.

Qui-Gon let his mind drift back over the years, remembering his first clear recollection of the boy Obi-Wan had been. Of the uncontrolled power within him, and how awkward and confused he had been. He remembered the lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and another boy, and the anger in him. Qui-Gon had not taken Obi-Wan as an apprentice then. At the time, he had been certain that Obi-Wan was not ready to become a padawan, was not in fact, ready to be a Jedi at all.

Now, looking back, he knew that he had seen all the wrong sides of Obi-Wan. No, the boy had not been perfect, or even mostly good at that stage, but he'd had potential.

Potential that had been brought out during Qui-Gon's mission to Bandomeer. It occurred to him that Obi-Wan's nascent abilities had only been teased into reality through the boy's contact with himself. With his guidance by a master.

Which was a shame, and a mark against the Academy, which should have had the best masters working in training the rawness in their students, who should have been able to direct Obi-Wan's energies. So quickly had the boy changed under Qui-Gon's eyes that it was clear that it had been guidance which was lacking, not anything in the boy.

When he had called Obi-Wan 'padawan' in the mines, it had not been to distract the boy from his intended sacrifice of himself. No, it had been the truth, something that had slipped from his lips as easily as though his heart had always known it, as though the decision had been made long ago and only then was his mind telling him about it.

He loved Obi-Wan, loved the quality that had caused a 13-year-old to decide the lives of those in and above the mines were more important than his own. Obi-Wan was unique, and well-worth any time that Qui-Gon had spent with him, any effort that Qui-Gon had gone to.

As a stripling, and now as the man he was becoming, Obi-Wan had only further claimed his place in Qui-Gon's heart and life. It was a secret grief of Qui-Gon's that in a few short years, he would be releasing Obi-Wan to follow his own path as a Jedi Knight. He had grown accustomed to Obi-Wan's presence, had grown accustomed to that flare of energy and life at his side.

But, yet, still, he did not feel love. Not as Obi-Wan had felt when he had broached the subject with Qui-Gon. Not that kind of love.

Deep affection, yes. Love it was, but not the wild flaring of attraction and need and wanting that Obi-Wan possessed. He knew his apprentice's feelings, could sense his emotions except when one or the both of them were tightly shielded. It was the nature of their bond, and Qui-Gon never took advantage of it. But he knew.

So, too, had Obi-Wan known what he meant when Qui-Gon had told him that Obi-Wan already knew his feelings. How could Obi-Wan not know? If he had felt the same pull of infatuation and attraction that Obi-Wan did, Obi-Wan would have sensed it long before, if not in his thoughts, then in the way the Force altered its movements around them.

The issue could be resolved as simply as that. Qui-Gon felt nothing other than what was proper for his apprentice.

Could be, but it was not that simple, no matter how it appeared, Qui-Gon admitted to himself.

His personal definition of love was a commitment made to another person. He had made that kind of commitment when he had accepted Obi-Wan as his padawan. The bond that he and Obi-Wan shared was evidence of the emotion he had for his apprentice, better evidence than anything as transitory as a feeling. Qui-Gon rarely felt the churn of lesser emotions -- his own last disastrous infatuation had taught him that. He'd though Xanatos could do know wrong, and had, indeed, only been waiting for his apprentice to achieve the rank of knight before speaking first of his own feelings. And then everything had gone wrong. Qui-Gon had worked hard at his control since then until emotions broke around him like waves around a rock. It was how he retained his calmness, and it was a useful attribute for a Jedi to possess.

And useless when it came to examining his feelings toward Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon had so thoroughly shut himself off from transitory emotion that he didn't know how he felt other than that deep groundswell of affection that had always been there and would always be there.

And he doubted that that was what Obi-Wan had in mind when he said love.

Qui-Gon sighed and looked up at the gnarled branches of the tree. This was not helping. He could not fathom his own feelings.

And if he could not fathom them, then other courses of action than the one he had already taken were cut off from him. Qui-Gon examined them again. If, if he had returned Obi-Wan's feelings, then something else could have happened. Two paths to take there, and neither of which he could, in all good conscience, walk now. It was true that the bond between a master and an apprentice could deepen into something more. The Council encouraged it. Indeed, that was part of the reason that a master was limited to one apprentice, and why the apprentice always stayed close to their master. The bond.

A master-apprentice bond that continued into a bond between master and knight could prove a solid partnership, a strength for the council to depend upon. If he walked that path, he would not take on another apprentice. A new apprentice could not share in their bond, and anything less than a full bond would be unfair to the apprentice.

Not that that would ever come to pass.

Qui-Gon emptied his mind, pushing aside the question of his feelings, and meditated instead on nothing at all, bringing peace and stillness back to a mind that was unused to anything else.

Once done with his routine, Obi-Wan settled down on the floor, near the others but not a part of them. It felt comfortable to be testing his physical limits, although he had come no further toward an answer to his question. Any of his questions. Instead, he'd poured himself into the kata on the flying rig. The physical activity demanded of a Jedi came easily to him, and he exulted in the feeling of his body moving in tune with the Force. That attunement was as close as he could come to peace.

But now he was ground-bound once again, and his problems settled around him like the heavy Jedi cloak he was not wearing.

"So what are you in for?" came a voice from behind Obi-Wan, startling him.

Obi-Wan half-turned, to see another man edging into place beside him, a friendly smile on his face. "I'm... I'd rather not talk about it."

The young man shrugged. He was dark-haired, and dressed in deep blue, an odd color for an apprentice to be wearing in a practice hall, or anywhere at all for that matter. "Not a problem. Just curious." He extended his hand. "I'm Rojer. And you?"

"Obi-Wan."

"That's right. I knew I recognized you. You were three years behind me at the Academy."

Obi-Wan smiled tentatively in reaction to Rojer's enthusiasm. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"That's all right. To answer my own question, I'm here for a bonding ceremony. Once the council approves of it, and my master finishes her meditation." Rojer turned serious for a moment. "I'm supposed to be doing my own meditating, although I can't imagine being any more sure about this than I am."

He didn't have any idea what Rojer was talking about. "What kind of bonding ceremony? Is she your new master?"

Rojer laughed. "No, silly. We're being bonded." At Obi-Wan's look of confusion, the other apprentice began to amplify. "You've got a master, right?" He didn't wait for a response. "Haven't you ever felt anything more for your master than just, well, respect?"

Obi-Wan controlled the flush that threatened to rise into his cheeks. He could see where this was heading, and didn't like the feeling that this had been arranged. Someone else with his exact problem had approached him? It didn't seem likely. It did seem like something Master Etil might have set up. "So?"

"So, this is serious. And we're going to formalize it. Have a commitment ceremony. Assuming that the council agrees, and I doubt they'd disagree unless they thought we were wrong about how we feel, and we're not."

"You can really do that?" Obi-Wan asked despite himself.

"Sure." Rojer regarded him strangely. "Didn't you know that? My master told me what might happen when she realized my feelings weren't going to change."

"My master just left me here," Obi-Wan admitted, aware that the other man would know what he was talking about. But Rojer was someone he could talk to, someone going through the same thing he was. Sort of. Rojer obviously didn't have the same difficulties that Obi-Wan currently had.

"Ah," Rojer said knowledgeably. "The old 'you don't know what you really feel' tactic. That happens a lot. Practically a rite of passage. Say, what number are you?"

"What?"

"Which padawan are you to your master? Can't be the first, although I'd bet on anything up to fourth assuming that your master isn't from an especially long-lived race."

"Third."

"Makes sense."

"How does it make sense?" Obi-Wan asked, feeling both defensive and curious all at once. It didn't make sense to him at all.

"Well, firstly, your master -- he or she?"

"He."

"He can't have bonded fully to a previous padawan or you wouldn't be here. Unless the padawan died, but then I'd think it'd be too hard for him to take on another one. And you're third, so he's got to be fairly old to have trained two before you. Probably can't figure out what you'd see in him."

"My master is not old."

Rojer held up his hands in mock-surrender. "All right, all right. Love is blind, and all that. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Obi-Wan did not bother to protest that he was not worrying about it. He was. "Why not?"

"Worrying won't change anything. If it was meant to be, then it'll happen. And if it wasn't, then it won't."

"It's not as simple as that."

Rojer smirked. "Maybe not, but if you think of it that way, it's easier to handle."

Obi-Wan shook his head, closing his eyes. Rojer didn't understand. For that matter, he didn't understand. "Why didn't Master Qui-Gon tell me..."

"Tell you what?" Rojer prompted when Obi-Wan did not continue.

"Never mind. I know why he didn't say anything. He doesn't love me like that."

Rojer shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't. You are number three, after all. If he was going to bond with someone, he'd probably have already done it. If not with one of his padawans, then with another master."

Yes, that was probably right. Obi-Wan felt renewed depression wash over him. The ridiculousness of the difference between their ages, the solid certainty that he was not really in love. The conviction that Qui-Gon, who he trusted, was right and that Obi-Wan was mistaken. The bitterness of knowing that Qui-Gon didn't feel like he did, and never would. And that he was being penalized for his inappropriate actions by being separated from the one source of kindness and affection that he had ever been able to depend upon. He fought back a sob, but a stifled cry emerged anyway. He bit his lip before Rojer could hear anything further. He was ashamed.

Unexpectedly, a cushion of support placed itself between him and the pain, supporting him.

The signature was Rojer's, and Obi-Wan looked at the other man, surprised at both his compassion and his ability to do such a thing. Surprised but grateful. "Thank you."

Rojer reached out his arm and touched Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No problem. Anytime."

Obi-Wan leaned against the young man, head resting on his chest. It wasn't who he wanted, but the comfort felt good. He needed it, needing this undemanding care, the affection he customarily received from Qui-Gon, the affection that was completely gone now.

"You're welcome." Rojer held him carefully. "You.. you don't seem to be all right. I mean, you seem to be taking this too hard."

Obi-Wan sat up abruptly, moving away from Rojer. "Is there an easy way to take it?"

"I don't know. Haven't tried it myself. But you seem awfully affected for someone who's supposed to be realizing that there are other stars in the universe."

"It's my second day here," Obi-Wan offered, not knowing what else to say.

"Maybe that's it then." Rojer regarded him with troubled eyes. "Maybe you should talk to your master again. Make him see how upset you are about having to be apart from him. This isn't good."

Obi-Wan shook his head sadly. "He wouldn't want to see me."

"Are you sure about that?"

From: Mercutio <mercutio@europa.com>

SUMMARY: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan receives some counseling, while Qui-Gon tries to remember why he's staying away from Obi-Wan.

ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible and wherever you like.

Walk Softly And Carry A Big Lightsaber, by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)

Part Six

It turned out that Rojer was anticipating the bonding ceremony by wearing blue. As Obi-Wan had suspected, Rojer hadn't come to work out, not in that outfit. Not that the other man had said so -- but he had not been in the salle when Obi-Wan entered it, and he'd left as soon as Obi-Wan excused himself.

Blue for bonding, then.

And Obi-Wan was not good enough to bond to.

His grief was becoming too deep for tears, and he could not think what to do. Meditation, always meditation was the Jedi answer to nearly every problem, and yet, that wasn't the answer Obi-Wan wanted. His thoughts churned when he meditated. He could find no stillness there of late. He wanted to seek out his master, and be comforted. To receive Qui-Gon's unfailing support, which was granted no matter what or why Obi-Wan was suffering.

But he remembered his rejection of the morning from Qui-Gon, and shuddered. He did not wish to repeat that. Too many rejections, even one more, perhaps, would be enough to break him down into helpless tears. Or something even worse.

He depended on Qui-Gon, and he now knew that for the weakness that it was. If he were a proper padawan, he would be able to stand on his own. Would be able to handle himself better than this.

That he couldn't was yet again proof of his inadequacy.

He found his steps leading him to the dining hall. It was nearly time for the evening meal.

Dully, he wondered if he might see his master there. And what his reaction would be if he did. Would it feel better to be able to see him -- or worse to see and not be able to have?

When he entered the dining hall, he searched the crowd for his master, but did not see him. Just as well, he thought, just as well.

Master Etil pulled herself out of the jumble of Jedis surrounding her, and came to him. "How are you? Did your session with Master Bith go well?"

"Yes, thank you, Master Etil."

"Good. And now you've come down for something to eat, I see. Mind if I join you?"

It would keep him from sinking into the despairing pit his thoughts had become. "No, I don't mind."

"Good again." They seated themselves at the end of a table somewhat removed from the others. Near enough to the table where Yoda sat, it kept all those who had something to hide -- which included all of the juniors and most of the apprentices -- away from them. It was the nearest thing to an empty table. There were two seats between Etil and the closest person, and four seats before Obi-Wan and the closest person on his side.

"How good would you say you were?"

"How good? Not very."

"Not very as an apprentice, or to where you'd like to be, or to becoming a knight?"

He shrugged. "All of those, I suppose. There's some things I do all right at, but I've still got a lot to learn. I just want to make Master Qui-Gon proud of me."

"He is, you know."

Obi-Wan dropped his fork. "He's proud of me?"

"Yes, he is. I heard him say it."

"That's---" Amazing he thought, as a small glow of happiness began to rise within him.

Etil watched him search himself for something to say, but went on instead of waiting for a response. "I think he's right. I talked with Master Bith. He thinks you've got astounding physical gifts -- if it was just up to the physical portions of what a Jedi needs has to know, you could qualify as a knight right now."

I could do what?

She took in his stunned expression. "You are very good at some things, Obi-Wan. Very good. It may be un-Jedi to revel in it, but you should at least know it. It's the truth, and a Jedi shouldn't hide from the truth."

"I haven't been hiding," he protested. "I just-- well, there's just so much more to learn. Maybe I'm good, I don't know. But I know I'm not as good as Master Qui-Gon..."

"Who is a full master, and expected to be better than an apprentice. You set lofty standards for yourself, young Kenobi."

He blushed. "I didn't mean to sound impudent, Master Etil."

"You didn't. You sounded self-effacing, like you can't even believe that you might have a talent."

"Talent's a beginning," he said, remembering one of Qui-Gon's lessons. "It's training that tempers it and makes it into something more."

"As you have." She switched subjects. "I hear you spoke to Rojer Estevan this afternoon."

"Uh -- yes."

"Any questions? Anything you want to ask me about?"

No. Definitely not. "I-- thank you, Master Etil."

"Good." She tilted her head. "You haven't done anything wrong, you know. You've been put in your current situation because, frankly, your emotions are confused and you wouldn't know which way was up even in a gravity well. Your emotions are all mixed up with your master. The reason you're on your own now is not because you've failed in some way, but so that you don't have that factor making it harder to sort out what you really feel."

That sounded much better than the way Qui-Gon had put it. It didn't sound so much like his fault, but rather something like a new phase of meditation, something more active than what he'd been trying before.

"I'm going to help you with that. In your master's judgment, you've gone beyond the point where you could figure this out on your own. And he doesn't want to help you with it."

His heart sank within him. It was true, but it hurt to have it reaffirmed.

"Stop that right now," she said sharply. "I can see that look on your face, and I can feel you blaming yourself. A healer learns to read other people's energy patterns better than most other Jedi, and I can tell what you're feeling. It's not your fault that Qui-Gon can't handle his own feelings. If he could, I'd want him here right now. But he can't, and that leaves you to me."

"What's wrong with Master Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked almost shyly. It was easy to feel intimidated by this woman.

"It's not your business." Her voice softened. "It's nothing to do with you, Obi-Wan. Not your fault."

"You keep saying that things aren't my fault."

"Because you blame yourself for nearly everything that goes wrong. You aren't the center of the universe, boy, as much as it might seem to you that you are. Things happen for their own reasons, and you aren't the cause of it all."

"Of course, not, but..."

"But you still feel that way. I know. That's something we're going to have to work on. But first, I want you to think on this -- you're a padawan, and a good one. Good enough for any Master to be proud of, including your own. But the important thing is that you believe it. It's true that other people also believe you're good -- but it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's what you think that matters. The Force comes from you. And your doubts, your feelings, all of that, affect the Force in you. If you trust yourself, the Force will be stronger because of it."

"I thought you said I wasn't the center of the universe," Obi-Wan said, amused despite himself.

She reached out to him, one finger touching the center of his forehead. "You're the center of your own universe. Remember that. That's how it should be. But right now, that's not true. You've moved that center away from yourself, and it's sickening you, weakening you from the inside out. You've got to move it back."

He was confused. "Is it like centering myself when I meditate?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to understand. "Finding my center, I mean."

"Right. Something like that. Only at the moment, it's more like you're trying to center yourself on an object outside your body."

He tried to imagine the center of his body being outside himself, and felt dizzy. "But that would throw my balance off."

"Exactly. You've thrown your mental balance off the same way. You have to bring your center back inside yourself."

His brow furrowed, but he nodded, "I have to think about that."

"Good. Think, then do." She stood up.

"What if I can't?" he asked hurriedly. He hadn't thought she'd leave so soon.

"You can. Have faith in yourself. You're very good as an apprentice. You have the ability."

She walked off.

And if I can't, Obi-Wan thought, I'm sure I'll see you again.

Etil went directly to Mace Windu's quarters. He received her graciously, and gestured her to take a seat. As she did, he folded his hands. He did not ask her anything, but rather waited for her to speak first.

She began without preamble. "The situation's worse than you told me. The boy's a mess. Confused. Insecure. And his master... I spoke with him. He was unaware of the boy's problem with insecurity. And he's hiding something. Whether it's just from others or from himself as well, I can't tell. But without full honesty from him, I can't, in good conscience, involve him in Obi-Wan's recovery. I want to keep them strictly separated. I don't think we can even risk putting him back with the boy. Qui-Gon is most of the problem all by himself. He's been encouraging the boy's insecurity, and he's the cause of the boy's lost center and his feelings."

Windu looked somber. "I've sensed confusion in Master Qui-Gon as well. We spoke of it. Qui-Gon told me that he had wished to send his apprentice away, and indeed, thought that finding him another master might be the right thing to do."

"He did?" Etil asked, fitting that new piece of information into the puzzle that was Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Yes. But before you rush to judgment, he intimated that it would cause him too much pain to do so, even though his convictions were telling him it was the right action to take."

"Complicated. More complications." Etil shook her head. "You know that I can't make use of any of this information until he brings it up. What's critical in all this is Qui-Gon's lack of clear communication with his apprentice. He doesn't seem to have told Obi-Wan that he approves of him and is proud of him--"

"Perhaps to ward off an inflated sense of self in the boy?"

She snorted. "The boy has no self-confidence. He needs that praise and he hasn't been getting it."

"It may be a matter of style. I've known Master Qui-Gon Jinn for a long time, and his has never been the most demonstrative of men--"

"Well, now it's hurting his apprentice. And either he's got to change, or we've got to get his apprentice out of there. Humility is one thing, but insecurity is quite another."

Windu spread his hands. "If that is what must be done, then it will be done. Still, I think that you are giving up on other solutions too easily."

"Maybe. Maybe not. If anything, I'm giving up on Qui-Gon."

"Don't. There is more to him than there seems."

"Well, he'd better show it to me and to the boy, then, before it's too late."

"Have faith in the Force."

"I do. When it's with me." Her eyes twinkled.

"Some of the flaws you ascribe to Master Qui-Gon are your own."

"Who me? I'm blunt and open at all times. Highly demonstrative. Ask anybody."

"And it is through that demonstrativeness that you hide your own feelings."

She stared at him for a long moment, then laughed. "You know me too well. You're right, of course."

"As you can understand his flaw, perhaps you might be more patient with Master Qui-Gon?" Windu asked patiently.

"This isn't the same."

"I think it's exactly the same." He regarded her steadily. "You will not heal them together?"

She shook her head slightly. "I could. But I won't. Not without more cooperation from Qui-Gon. He's in denial on his own feelings, and he doesn't admit that there's even a problem with his apprentice, other than what Obi-Wan confessed to him directly. I tried speaking with him about it, and yes, I thought I was getting somewhere, but he closed up on me so fast at the first sign of vulnerability that I don't think he's ever going to crack. And if he doesn't admit that there's a problem and that he's part of it, then involving him would do more harm than good. And putting Obi-Wan back with him after I've healed him could reverse everything I've done and make Obi-Wan more dependent."

Windu shook his head. "I still believe that you are giving up too easily. I see a strong bond between them. If you will not heal them both, then heal the boy and let the future take its own course."

"I'd hoped to prepare Obi-Wan for a more permanent separation from his master."

"If must it be, then it will be. But do not act in haste. There still may be another way."

She stood. "I'll take that under advisement."

Mace Windu shook his head again, a wry smile touching the corners of his lips. "You will do as you will."

"Yes. I will." Etil left the room without a backward glance.

Obi-Wan returned to his quarters with a new thought to meditate on. Center himself on himself. It was a new concept.

Or, he thought, a very old one that he'd missed because it was so simple as to verge on the profound. Master Qui-Gon had scolded him often enough about not being able to see what was right in front of him, and indeed, Obi-Wan had always had the strangest difficulties with locating objects that had gone missing...

But no. He had promised Master Etil that he would not dwell on his faults. He would instead go forward with self-confidence -- what he had of it -- and work on centering.

He knelt on the floor, on a mat. It would help to cushion his legs, and allow him to immerse himself more fully into the meditation without having to monitor his body as closely for signs of fatigue.

Centering his mind. What exactly had Master Etil meant by that?

He thought about pleasing her, wondered again why she insisted on emphasizing that things were not his fault, and attempted to clear his mind.

How to center. How to center the way Etil wanted him to.

The way Etil would want him to.

His eyes snapped open. That was something there, wasn't it? How could he be centered on himself if he were so concerned about someone else's opinion? Instead, he should concentrate on doing it the way that felt right to him, trusting his own instincts, not hers, and not his master's. Trust his instincts...

He slipped easily into a grounded, centered position, and from there seamlessly into a meditative trance. Part of him marvelled at how easily it had been accomplished, and then set that thought aside.

What else had she mentioned? There had been something about meditation. Oh, yes. His thoughts were confused with his master's, and separation from his master would clarify his emotions.

He examined his feelings, weighing them dispassionately, without thought of what Qui-Gon would feel about them or how Qui-Gon might react. Instead, he touched each one, trying to see how much of each was coming from him, and how much was a response to external prompting.

A lot, he decided. A lot of his emotion was wrapped up in Qui-Gon's acceptance and approval of him. A desperate desire to please Qui-Gon. A feeling that he had to be good enough, had to be better in order to keep Qui-Gon, that anything less would lose him the most important person in his life. Even his affection was entirely wrapped up with Qui-Gon -- very little of his feelings were unconnected to his master.

He separated those emotions from his study, and examined what remained. Very little. A desire to belong that had strengthened over the past few days. Fear of aloneness, and something else, something that stood out only when his emotions were set out so clearly -- an emptiness that craved to be filled.

He realized then that Qui-Gon had been right. That he had been short-sighted. Nearly anyone would do. His need was basic, and not about love at all. It was about wanting to have someone, wanting to define himself in terms of someone else. Wanting to center himself around someone else as Master Etil had said. His ideas about love, his supposedly deep affection for Qui-Gon and the bittersweet yearning were not what remained when he sifted through his emotions and removed all that had to do with Qui-Gon. No, what remained was a different need, and he felt ashamed of himself.

No, not ashamed, he reminded himself. Master Etil wouldn't like that.

Then, coming fully out of his trance, he laughed bitterly. Now he was trying to define himself in terms of Master Etil. He was still consumed by the same problem.

He needed help. He hoped that he would get it, that, if he were lucky, Master Etil might be willing to provide it, be willing to risk so much time and care on a failure like himself.

Obi-Wan laughed again, harder this time, tears coming to his eyes. He was denigrating himself again. So much for Etil's fine words about being proud of himself. He couldn't do that either. He couldn't even do what he knew he should do -- embrace his fear of being alone and conquer it. Everything he did was wrong.

Throwing himself on the narrow bed, he surrendered to the tears, accepting the emotion the only way he could, and cried himself to sleep like a brokenhearted child.

The sound of crying brought Qui-Gon out of his trance. Soft as it was, the noise leached through his barriers until it distracted him completely from his thoughts.

He gave up on meditation, and listened for the sound, concentrating on his hearing. It did not seem to have a source. Moving to one side of his room did not lessen or enlarge it.

Closing his ears, he listened with his mind, and then the sound grew louder.

He identified it quickly. Only one person could cry like that and still be heard by him. Only one person could so breach his barriers.

His apprentice.

He closed his eyes, standing there for a long moment, hurting inside. Is it so hard for you, Obi-Wan? Have I done the wrong thing by choosing this path? I thought I could not care about you in the way that you wanted, but I find myself caring more than ever.

Deciding, he tried to reach out to Obi-Wan, to comfort him mentally. But his padawan was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that Qui-Gon could not make a strong connection. He gave what support he could that way, painfully little, then broke the contact.

He would have to go to Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon pulled on his robe and wrapped the sash around himself. Going to Obi-Wan, would mean forgetting completely about what he had been trying to accomplish by keeping himself separated from Obi-Wan. But principle was not more important than his apprentice's pain.

Urgency hurried his steps.

Qui-Gon found the room relatively quickly, using his sense of Obi-Wan to locate him. It still took several minutes, and the crying had grown quieter as he strode through the halls. He had just about determined to cast all of his composure and control aside when he reached Obi-Wan's quarters.

And found Master Etil reaching for the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked before he could stop himself, too caught up in his apprentice's emotions to care about the polite thing.

"I might ask you the same thing. What do you think you're doing?"

"I heard him crying..."

"And you came to help. How sweet. Did you think that seeing you now might make it harder for him to recover?"

"No." He was puzzled by her hostility.

"Because if you aren't ready to open your feelings to the boy as well as yourself, you're doing more harm than good by coming here."

That was a little plainer, although he still didn't understand her insistence on the issue of emotions. "He needs help."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But if he's supposed to break away from you, fostering his dependence on you is not going to help him. It'll do exactly the opposite."

"I never intended for him to break away completely -- I just thought it would be more appropriate if he found someone whom he could love, who would return his love."

"Same thing in the end." She shrugged. "Before he can do that, he needs to make a break with you, leave his feelings about you behind. Only after he's over that, will he be able to move on. And I don't know whether you'll be able to resume the same relationship again afterwards. No, I'm sure you won't be able to."

"So what do you suggest?" he asked. His patience came harder to him when he could feel Obi-Wan hurting on the other end of their bond. "That I ignore his pain?"

"If you can't give him more than you already have, then, yeah. That's what I suggest." She regarded him steadily. "So, what's it going to be? Are you ready to admit to what you feel about the boy?"

"There is nothing which to admit. He is my apprentice, and I care deeply about him," Qui-Gon said, frustrated both by himself and by her repeated questions on the topic. He felt what he felt. He was hiding nothing other than his own confusion.

"Then there's nothing for you to say to him, nothing that you have to say which he should hear," she said with a cold note of finality in her voice. "I think you should leave the boy to me. I will take care of him."

He could deal with that. He would deal with that.

But instead of entering Obi-Wan's room, Etil turned away, seemingly to leave.

"Aren't you going to go inside?" he asked, feeling shocked by her action.

She shook her head. "No. He's fallen asleep, can't you feel it? Time enough to talk with him tomorrow. I won't disturb what peace he's managed to find for himself." She gave him a long, steady look and then left.

Thus giving the implication that he should not either. Not in this matter, and not overall. Qui-Gon leaned against the wall, trying to get himself firmly under control. He wanted to go to Obi-Wan, wanted to sit silent vigil over his dreams and wrap him in a blanket of Force that would keep his dreams free of further thoughts that would distress him. Wanted to watch his apprentice wake, and see the pain he'd heard erased.

Wanted, but could not do.

Not without, if he could believe Etil, making things worse. He rested his head back against the stone wall of the corridor, feeling helplessness move through him. Act, or not act. Both carried the same penalties. Both left his apprentice hurting afterwards.

And somehow, that was what left a lump burning in his guts.

Qui-Gon watched the lax face of his apprentice as Obi-Wan slept.

He knelt next to Obi-Wan's bed, with the door closed soundly behind him. He was still not sure that this was the wisest course of action to take. That it was the one that felt right to his heart, he knew, but he did not know if this was the right thing for Obi-Wan.

But he would do his best to make it so.

No doubt, if Master Etil found him, she would scold him. And quite probably take the very logical action of securing the door so that it would not open to him again. This time it had opened for him -- and it heartened Qui-Gon immeasurably that Obi-Wan did not yet wish to push his master that far away, even as it saddened him to realize that that probably would have been wiser.

Obi-Wan slept restlessly. His bedclothes were wound around his curled-up body, and he had a fistful of them clutched in one hand while the other arm held on tightly to his pillow. The dried remnants of tear tracks stained his face, and he looked entirely vulnerable, and too broken to bear.

Sadness bowed Qui-Gon's head, as he whispered, "Oh, my padawan. What have I done to you?"

Slowly and gently, he brought down his own barriers, opening himself to Obi-Wan's mind through the connection of their bond. Obi-Wan's thoughts were less shielded than normal. Raw spikes of pain jumped out from him, and Qui-Gon laid a soothing hand on the torn and bleeding edges of Obi-Wan's mind.

If this is what Etil meant by breaking him so that he could heal straighter, I most certainly do not approve. It had only been one day, after all. How had his apprentice been brought so low in a single day?

He let those thoughts go free as not useful in the current situation, then settled himself more thoroughly into the task of soothing Obi-Wan's mind.

On a deeper level than the surface trauma, Obi-Wan was dreaming. Qui-Gon could catch glimpses of that dream, half-formed images racing through Obi-Wan's mind at incredible speed, with detail more sharp than any memory could provide.

Obi-Wan had something of the foreseeing ability. Qui-Gon did not. His talents lay elsewhere, and indeed, he was gifted at calmness, and the delicate arts of mediation and negotiation. A good balance for Obi-Wan's energy.

Except right now, when dreamwalking would have been a better skill for him to have. From the glimpses he could catch, Obi-Wan's dream was disturbing and painful to him. The anguish of his mind was very clear.

Qui-Gon collected his energy, sent it into the Force, and then, very carefully, directed it toward Obi-Wan. He delicately soothed his padawan's mind, applying balm in the wounded places, while shoring up Obi-Wan's weakening barriers. There were many troubles on his apprentice's mind, and Qui-Gon did his best to ease these, placing layers of unconscious "everything will be all right" thoughts to comfort Obi-Wan.

When Qui-Gon was done, he opened his eyes, feeling somewhat shaky. He'd poured all he could into his padawan. He only hoped it had been enough.

But then, perversely, the nightmare seemed to worsen. Obi-Wan began to make small incoherent noises, even as his fingers opened and closed in tiny movements mimicking the larger motions he was no doubt making in his dream.

Qui-Gon placed his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead, softly stroking the sweaty braid away from Obi-Wan's face. "It will be all right, Obi-Wan," he said quietly, soothingly, in a deep, even tone. And remembering Etil's words about Obi-Wan's self-confidence, he added, "You are loved and wanted, Obi-Wan. You are cared for."

Obi-Wan's restlessness did not ease. Instead, it seemed to grow worse, as though he were shaking himself awake in the aftermath of a dream too painful to endure.

Qui-Gon removed his hand just as Obi-Wan came awake, gasping for breath. His face was turned away from Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon could see the outline of his padawan's features. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, seemed to choke on something, and then said in a soft, broken voice, "Master. Oh, master. Where are you?" A sob choked him off, and he began to cry quietly.

Qui-Gon could stand it no longer. "I'm here, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan turned on his side, a sleepy look of bewilderment on his face as he saw the dark shape kneeling next to his bed. "Master?"

"Yes, it's me."

"No, you're not real. 'S just a dream. You'll leave if I reach for you."

Qui-Gon reached for him first, long fingers stroking Obi-Wan's cheek. "I am really here, my padawan."

The soft touch broke Obi-Wan down and he began to cry in earnest, first in soft sobs, then gulping in great gasps of air as an ugly harsh sound was rung from him.

Seriously alarmed, Qui-Gon leaned forward, and then pulled his apprentice to him, until Obi-Wan's head was resting awkwardly against his chest. "Please don't cry. I'm here. I am real. I promise you that."

Somehow the physical contact seemed to break through where the words had not, and Obi-Wan's sobs slowed, and then died into sniffles. "Why did you leave me?" he asked, voice strained and raw.

Now was not the time, Qui-Gon decided, for a lecture on the necessity of controlling one's emotions, or for explaining how it was that Qui-Gon came to the decision of bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant, or even for expressing the doubts Qui-Gon was beginning to have about the consequences of his actions. It was time for simplicity and straightforwardness in his comfort. In any case, he was not sure that Obi-Wan was fully in the waking world. "I was wrong to leave you, Obi-Wan. But I am here now. And," he repeatedly awkwardly, "you are loved."

In response, Obi-Wan clutched him tightly. "Now I know 'm dreaming," came the muffled reply from against his chest.

"And why is that, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked in the same level tone that he would have used in the middle of training or while listening to Obi-Wan report on a mission-related situation. He hoped the tone would calm Obi-Wan. He hoped still more that this did not presage a hysterical change from wild grief to wild humor and then back again.

"You'd never tell me you loved me. Even if it was true."

"It is true, Obi-Wan. I have loved you for many, many years." Very true. He had and he did. He cared deeply about his pupil.

Muffled crying started again, and Qui-Gon moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to hold Obi-Wan without straining his apprentice's neck or his own back. He held Obi-Wan closely during the whole transfer and after -- Obi-Wan needed him. He was not about to betray the trust that Obi-Wan was showing him, trust he wasn't sure he deserved, but that Obi-Wan gave freely in allowing Qui-Gon to see this vulnerable side of him.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, concerned, as the sobbing did not abate.

"Only thing worse than dying inside," Obi-Wan said softly, not looking up, tears heavy in his voice, "is being shown what you can't have while you're dying of the pain."

Qui-Gon's eyes closed as he felt tears prickling at his own eyes. Obi-Wan was shattered. Qui-Gon knew now that he had handled this situation poorly. He should have found another way to deal with this, walked one of the other paths, no matter how much pain it would have caused him. Anything would be better than to hear Obi-Wan so hopeless, so broken.

Qui-Gon bent his head, brushing Obi-Wan's hair with his lips. "Everything is all right. Things will get better now. I promise."

"I want to believe you."

"Then do," Qui-Gon said firmly.

Obi-Wan's body shook, whether with a chuckle or renewed tears, Qui-Gon couldn't tell.

He gathered Obi-Wan up against his body for a moment, and held him close before replacing him in the bed. Qui-Gon smoothed the bedclothes over his apprentice, carefully tucking him in. Sleepy eyes watched his every move.

When he had finished, he stilled, looking at Obi-Wan. "Sleep now, Obi-Wan. I will watch over your dreams."

Obi-Wan's mouth turned up just a little at the corners, into an almost smile, and then -- with a trust Qui-Gon could feel all the way through him -- closed his eyes, and laid back against his pillow, before sinking into a sleep that, this time, was restful and healing.

Morning came slowly, as if unwilling to wake the young man sleeping on the bed.

The older man, kneeling on the floor in meditation, had not slept, and indeed, was unaware that morning had come. Part of Qui-Gon's consciousness was devoted to monitoring his apprentice's state, and the rest was devoted to the problem of what to do.

He didn't know. It wasn't even the same problem anymore. It had started out as something that seemed simple. Obi-Wan had romantic feelings for him that he did not return. Now... now it was a tangled mess.

To Qui-Gon, the important problem was the immediate one. Obi-Wan's emotional stability. Once a semblance of serenity had been returned, then would his apprentice be able to make correct choices. As his padawan was at the moment, any choices he made would be governed by a fractured heart. And that would not do.

But what could Qui-Gon do?

He had been meditating on that question for some hours, pausing only to stretch his body or to ensure that Obi-Wan got the restful slumber that his apprentice needed. He was determined to stay at it until Obi-Wan awoke.

Obi-Wan's dreams were jumbled and confused. A multitude of people seemed to be condemning him for some barely remembered sin -- wearing his robe at the incorrect angle to show proper respect, he remembered now. Everything he said to defend himself was useless. The Council would determine that he was unfit to be a Jedi.

Master Etil came toward him, and put her hand on his shoulder. Turning to the council, she said in a loud, clear voice, "Respected Masters, not-so-respected knights, and all the rest of you heathen. There is nothing wrong with this boy. He can't center, he's an emotional cripple, and oh, yes, I'm giving him advice on blatantly obvious things that he still can't see for himself -- but there's nothing wrong with him."

The court responded, "But what about his robe?"

"Who cares about robes? Have him take it off if you don't like the way he's wearing it," she responded defiantly.

The response came in a chorus of voices demanding that he take off his robe, and why was he allowed to wear it if he couldn't do it properly anyhow, even an unchosen child would know how to wear a robe, and in any case, they were going to throw him out of the Jedi, so he didn't need a robe.

Obi-Wan wanted to run, wanted to protest. He looked up at Master Etil, but she shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. There's nothing to run from. This is normal."

Frightened, he pulled back from the horde of people approaching him, long fingers and talons outstretched to tear the robe from his back--

--when another robe, dark brown in hue, was draped around him. A hand clasped his shoulder, and then suddenly, he was a step behind a reassuring bulk. "Will this robe do?" he heard Qui-Gon ask.

Obi-Wan wanted to feel relief at his master defending him, but he knew that it couldn't be so.

It wasn't. Master Etil turned on Qui-Gon. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. You don't know what you're doing. This is perfectly natural. The boy will get through it."

Obi-Wan tried to protest, but no one seemed to hear him. He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

"No! No!" he shouted, but it made no impression on the crowd advancing for him, and then Master Etil jumped on Master Qui-Gon, biting him and ripping at him herself while the assembled council advanced on him, and then...

"It's all right, Obi-Wan," he heard his master say.

"But, but, you're dead. I saw her kill you and--"

Qui-Gon's voice wasn't listening to him. It went on. "Everything will be all right, Obi-Wan. You are safe."

He turned toward the source of that voice, and to his horror, saw a Force-ghost standing behind him. His master's ghost. Qui-Gon was dead, and nothing would ever be all right again.

A small boy tugged at the hem of Obi-Wan's tunic. "What are you doing? Why are you talking to the wall, Master Obi-Wan?"

"I'm not your master," Obi-Wan said to the boy.

The boy visibly wilted. "Nobody wants me. Not even you. And you're not even a proper Jedi."

He could hear the Force-ghost speaking to him again, but it was too much, too much horror and wrongness and his life was over, only he was living it, and it had all gone so wrong, and--

And then his face was being held between two hands, and the physical contact centered Obi-Wan on the waking world. Shaking, he opened his eyes. "That wasn't real. Please don't let that have been real."

"It was only a dream," his master said, staring down at him with a concerned look.

Only the hands on the sides of his head kept him from trying to make a horizontal leap backwards. "G-g-ghost," he said, voice trembling. "You're dead."

The hands slipped down from his face to his arms, pulling him upright in bed. "I am not dead, Obi-Wan. I am right here, and very real."

Some of the dazed look left Obi-Wan's eyes. "Well, you were dead," he said, with as much composure as he could muster.

Qui-Gon shook his head. The concerned look did not leave his face. "Well, I'm alive now."

The feel of Qui-Gon's hands stroking up and down the sides of his arms was slowly beginning to penetrate his consciousness. Obi-Wan looked around the room, orienting himself. It was the small chamber he'd sought out after his master had told him to do so. It looked to be morning. And, for some reason, his master was there.

"Is something wrong, master?" he asked, still not entirely awake, but quite sure that his master wouldn't have come unless there was.

Qui-Gon released him. "Not precisely."

"Have I done something wrong, master?" Obi-Wan asked, fully awake now, and very puzzled.

"No. I heard your crying last night, and came to you. Your sleep was uneasy, and I remained to calm you."

Obi-Wan flushed. Yes, he was the very picture of the proper Jedi apprentice. Crying, having nightmares... what was next? "I'm sorry, master. I didn't mean to bother you."

"You didn't bother me, padawan. It is my duty and my pleasure as your master to aid you when things like this happen."

Obi-Wan flushed again, and looked down.

"It's too hard for you, isn't it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly, looking at the top of his apprentice's head. "I intended to allow you the freedom to find your own future, and instead, I've cut you off from something you don't know how to live without."

Words came spilling out of Obi-Wan in a desperate rush. He was wrong, he was needy, and it had caused his master to second guess himself when it was Obi-Wan who had to change, despite the difficulty of it. "I apologize for my dependence, master. I know it's something I have to work on. Master Etil spoke with me about it. She told me that I was trying to center on other people, and that's why I've been having problems. I have to center on myself, and I tried that last night, and it worked. I... I figured out while meditating that the fault is mine. I try to use other people's guidelines as a rule to live my own life, and that's wrong. I've been doing that with you, and I didn't realize it."

When he finally sputtered to a stop, Qui-Gon was looking at him, his expression sad.

"Have I said something wrong, master?" Obi-Wan asked, aching at the thought of having disappointed his master again.

Qui-Gon shook his head, and reached out to his apprentice, hand gentle on his shoulder. "Obi-Wan, you are supposed to look to your master for guidance. That is what a padawan does. Had you thought of that?"

He hadn't. "No, master."

"Then think on that," Qui-Gon said kindly, letting his hand drop. He considered his apprentice with a measuring glance. "I have come to the conclusion that this is not the right path for you."

"What isn't, master?" Obi-Wan asked, anxious all over again. Only Qui-Gon's presence calmed him, that and his touches. It seemed that Qui-Gon had touched him more this morning that he had in months previous. And he was here... it was though long weeks had gone by, with Obi-Wan exiled on a hostile planet. And yet it had only been one day. One day, and he was forgetting all of his training, his emotions spilling from him like water from a broken pipe.

"I want you to return to our quarters. Return to our usual pattern of living. I want you close by. It would be better for the both of us. And," Qui-Gon's mouth quirked, "as I have been forcibly reminded, it may be causing problems for you to be so separated from me."

Obi-Wan started to protest, but his master waved to him to remain silent.

"No, Obi-Wan. I have searched my feelings, and believe it to be the truth." His gaze was level and serious. "I did not send you away because of any fault in you. I thought it was the wisest thing to do, and now, in retrospect, I see that I was wrong. And," he swallowed, "I have been neglectful in not telling you that I love you very much, and value you greatly, my padawan."

Obi-Wan's heart stretched until it felt like it would burst open. His mouth had fallen open, and he gaped at Qui-Gon until he realized what he was doing and resumed a more formal posture. His doubts had been driven out of him, and all he could think of was his master's words. "I... I thank you, master." Then, more shyly. "I love you as well, master."

"I know, Obi-Wan. I know."

After that amazing revelation, Qui-Gon stood up. "I will leave you to your morning routine. Can I expect to see you in our quarters by lunchtime?"

"Sooner than that, Master," Obi-Wan promised, suddenly excited once again about the possibility of living life.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "There is no need to hurry. I will see you for the noon meal, then."

He was turning to go when Obi-Wan thought of a possible problem. "Master? What about Master Etil? And my training session with Master Bith this afternoon?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I will speak with Etil. I suspect that is how I will be spending my morning. For now, practice with Master Bith. Learning a different style may benefit you."

Obi-Wan nodded, happy now that his center had returned. It was Qui-Gon. It troubled him to think that Master Etil might be right, and that he was unbalanced by having Master-Qui-Gon as his center, but it felt so right this way, that he must surely have been trying to walk without legs without his master.

"Thank you, master."

Qui-Gon smiled at him, and left.

Obi-Wan felt entirely happy. Everything would be all right.

And then he remembered. His problems settled over him again in the absence of his master's reassuring presence. I was sent away because I fell in love with Qui-Gon. Now that I'm to return, well, that's still wrong. What am I going to do? I can't bear to be sent away again. And I can't stop loving him...

He didn't know what to do. Suddenly a dark shadow had been cast over the brightness of the immediate future, and Obi-Wan shuddered.

He had woken from nightmare into reality. He would deal with the problems of reality as they came, and would do it calmly, as a Jedi should.

Because he had his master back again.

Qui-Gon had less distance to go than he thought to find Master Etil.

She was standing outside Obi-Wan's room, and did not look at all pleased to see him exiting it.

"Tell me," she said, "did you listen to anything I said to you?"

He folded his hands neatly into the sleeves of his robe, suddenly tired. "Let us find some other place to discuss this. I would prefer that Obi-Wan not be subjected to the spectacle of us arguing over his fate."

"Now you start thinking about his welfare," she grumbled before leaning away from the wall. "Well, come on. I'll take you to my quarters. It's about the only place I'm sure no one will walk in on us. And you're right about that, by the way -- I don't want the boy to have to see his elders divided over this issue. He needs solid guidance, not squabbling."

"I agree."

"So," she asked, as they walked through the corridors. "Did you think about what I said at all, or did you just go right in?"

"I thought over the matter, yes."

He didn't say anything further, and she gave him an impatient glance over her shoulder. "And what did you decide?"

"To go in," he replied calmly.

She glared at him. "You're lucky I'm on the Light Side. Or I'd be having serious ideas about tying you down and torturing you to get the information I want out of you. What's so wrong with telling people things? You thought more than just to go in the room. If you're any kind of worthwhile master for that boy at all, you had feelings. You weighed what was best for him in the long run with what was best in the short term." She paused, took a breath, and continued. "Or, at least, I hope you did, because if you didn't, and you're the kind of person who would thoughtlessly walk into a situation like that one without thinking of the boy's best interests, then you're not the kind of person who should have ever been trusted with another human life."

Qui-Gon wasn't taken aback. "Are you certain you haven't gone over to the Dark Side?"

"There!" she exclaimed. "I just saw it. Evidence of a sense of humor." They had reached her quarters, and she led him inside. Not waiting for him to take a seat, she turned on him. "That's what I'm looking for. A sign that there's a human being under the Jedi mask."

"And if I say that there is?" he asked. "Is it really such a revelation?"

She scowled. "No. Not really. I'm sure there's a person under there, I'm just not sure how deep you hid him. If you've hid him too deep, I don't think even you would be able to find him."

"Why are you looking?"

"Because if you're connecting with your apprentice as a person, you'll have greater success than if you connect with him as The Jedi Master. He needs you to be a person."

He was still standing. She hadn't offered him a seat, nor did she appear to want one for herself. "And what does that have to do with Obi-Wan's original problem? I brought him to Coruscant to allow him to make contact with others of his age. I do not see what my feelings, or my being a person as you call it, have anything to do with the matter. I expected him to form a relationship outside of our Master-apprentice bond."

She sniffed, and finally sat down. "What are you trying to achieve by doing that?"

He seated himself across from her as she spoke, looking curiously at her as she asked him her question. "What did I hope to achieve? I think that should be obvious. I wanted him to find an appropriate channel for his feelings."

"Did it occur to you that you would be weakening the bond you share by doing so?"

His eyebrows arched. "No. But if such a thing occurred, I suppose it would be natural, and thus something to be expected and worked around."

She smiled humorlessly. "You would. Try this -- can you tell me why you chose that route instead of accepting the boy's feelings and letting them being part of your bond, not excluding them as you've done?"

"I don't return them..."

"Not what I meant," she said, sweeping that objection away before it was fully vocalized. "Let's use little words here, and if I'm insulting your knowledge, so be it. I've been assuming that you knew that you don't have to share the boy's feelings to incorporate them into your bond. You have to acknowledge them, you have to live with them, and you have to support him, but you don't have to return them." She looked at him sharply. "I was assuming you know that, because I've never seen a truly tight Master-apprentice pair-bond choose to handle the situation in the way that you have. Pushing the boy aside like you have, while done, is usually done when the apprentice is incapable of being serious about anyone, or when there's strain in the bond to begin with. Now, I'm getting from the boy that he's more attached to you than that. And I wouldn't think that you'd pull the stunt you did last night if you didn't care about him. So, Master Qui-Gon, starting over from the beginning -- what are you hiding, who from, and why?"

He could only stare at her. He could not remember having been so taken apart by someone since his own padawan days. "I did not think of it that way," he said, a little shaken.

"That much was becoming very obvious. Now answer the question."

"How?" he asked simply, meeting her eyes with a clear, direct gaze. "I have searched my heart and found nothing hiding there. If I have nothing hidden, how can I be hiding it from someone, and with what motive?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "You're very frustrating, you know that? Let's take this in little steps. Do you have a deep bond with your apprentice?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said firmly. Of that he was certain.

"Good. Do you want to keep the boy as your padawan?"

"Yes."

"Good again. Now for a hard one -- why did you push him away?"

"Because," he explained again, "I did not return his feelings."

"Ah-ah," she said holding up a finger. "That's not enough. You handled it the way you did for a reason. Something about letting him get that close to you bothered you, even if you don't want to tell me about it. You pushed him away because he was getting too close." She turned penetrating eyes on him. "So, tell me, why would it bother you to have someone get close to you? What makes you afraid of that?"

Xanatos. The thought flashed across his mind, and he shut it down almost as quickly as it had came. He knew what she meant now. "I see your point."

"Do you? I don't think so. I haven't even gotten to my point. So now you think maybe you know why you pushed him away. But you still haven't told me how you really feel about the boy. Was your decision a matter of undealt-with fear, or was there something else in there, too?"

He studied her with cautious eyes. He was beginning to respect her abilities. "Such as?"

"I could tell you what I think, but you wouldn't believe it. Let me ask another question. Which possibility are you really trying to push away? That you acknowledge the boy's feelings and that you don't return them, and then have to face working that into your bond? Or that you won't be able to do it because if you really acknowledged those feelings, you might see that you returned them?"

He started to protest that he truly didn't return Obi-Wan's feelings when she held up her hand.

"No, don't answer me out loud. You wouldn't tell me the real answer anyway. That much I've figured out. What I want is for you to think it over and admit to yourself what the answer is. I'll tell you right now that I think it's the second of the two. Acknowledging the boy's feelings would leave you wide open for something you don't want to face. And you know as well as I do that you've got to face things as a Jedi."

That much he could agree with, and he nodded. It was a basic lesson -- face your fears, don't run from them. It didn't apply here, of course, but still, the principle was true. "And your plans now for Obi-Wan?"

She eyed him shrewdly. "The boy doesn't need two masters squawking over him. He wouldn't know which way to turn. He's already painfully in awe of the both of us. Having to answer us both would turn him speechless. Of course, he'd probably just be imitating you, but still. Let's do this -- what I want from you is for you to stop withholding yourself from the boy. Accept his feelings, and let him see yours. No, I'm not telling you you have to return them or any fool thing like that. But behave like a human being around him, and I won't interfere."

"And otherwise?"

Her eyes turned hard. "My interest in this matter is the boy's welfare. You're a master, you should be able to take care of yourself. He can't. If you aren't capable of caring for your apprentice, I'll recommend to the council that they find someone for him who can take care of him. That's what he deserves."

Qui-Gon wasn't pleased by the threat, but he had to agree that he himself would not trust anyone else with Obi-Wan's care, and had indeed intervened because he had felt that Etil was not taking adequate care of his padawan. "I will abide by that."

"Good." She stood up. "Now go talk to the boy. And if you won't, then let him talk to you. Just having you listen to him means a lot to him."

"I know," Qui-Gon said gently and then, accepting the end of their interview, left the room, in search of his own quarters, a hot shower, and some food.

Once in his room, Qui-Gon looked around. Obi-Wan had not yet arrived, and he had some time to think before he needed to deal again with his padawan.

And the subject was not an easy one. Despite his talk with Etil.

He entered the tiny shower area that he and Obi-Wan customarily shared, and made use of the facilities efficiently while musing over the problem. Was he afraid? Was that indeed the explanation behind the current difficulty?

He thought it could be so. As much as he would have liked to believe that there was no unfaced fear within him, there were things that had gotten put away because he had believed that the issues involved would never arise again.

And indeed, this particular issue had not arisen again -- that the current situation echoed of it was a trick of fate.

After his shower, he dressed, and padded down the corridor to seek his solitary breakfast, still lost in thought. There was little likelihood that he would be interrupted in his contemplations -- he was on Coruscant rarely enough to have formed any truly long-term relationships with his peers, and in any case, there were subtle physical cues, certain ways that the Force moved around a person that told the experienced observer who wished for privacy.

As he did now.

He acquired his meal, and sat down with his food. Was it time, then, to lay bare a portion of his heart that he had devoutly wished would never need to come to light?

After his second apprentice, Xanatos, had turned, Qui-Gon had thought little more on Xanatos's future as a Jedi. That was done with, and after regrets had been meditated through, and guilt dealt with, what might have been was no longer relevant. It was no longer important that Qui-Gon had loved that man, loved him with all of his heart, so greatly indeed that it was the shock of that betrayal when Xanatos had turned that had truly kept him from taking another apprentice for so long. His heart had needed time to heal before it could take on another bond.

But it had, and he had. He'd thought the pain to be dealt with.

Until now. Until he... until Obi-Wan had begun to fall in love with him.

Qui-Gon shook his head slightly, and concentrated on the simple mechanics of eating, thinking only of his food and of eating itself. Being perfectly in the moment, a skill of his, until he was the moment and neither past nor present nor future had any relevance to who and what he was.

When he had finished eating, he was forced to put that aside and exist again in the present where there were troubling thoughts and realities that must be dealt with.

He returned his eating utensils to the kitchen, and slowly began to walk back to his quarters. His and Obi-Wan's quarters. What was he to tell Obi-Wan? How could he know, when he himself did not understand?

Obi-Wan studied the familiar quarters he shared with his master with a deep relief at finally having come home. Home was not Coruscant, was not even the Jedi temple. It was this room that he had shared for nearly a decade with Qui-Gon.

Who would be returning shortly.

Obi-Wan took another look around the room to make sure everything was where it should be.

Spacious compared to the quarters he had come from, rooms assigned to masters were generally larger in order to give them the area needed for a padawan.

Those without padawans accordingly had more space than those with. Yet another sacrifice Master Qui-Gon had made for him.

In truth, Obi-Wan would have liked to do something for his master, to return even one of the multitude of favors Qui-Gon had done him over the years, and indeed, over the last day, but there was nothing to do. The rooms were as neat and tidy as though an army of housekeepers swept through it daily. His own belongings had taken only a little while to put away. They traveled with little, and Obi-Wan had not taken many of his things from his room when he had been assigned new quarters. This was indeed home, and anywhere else was simply a place he was staying as part of his duties with the Jedi.

He considered retreating to the small chamber that served as his sleeping room to meditate, but knew that he would have little peace until he had spoken again with his master. His doubts and his excitement were mixed together, and he could find no calmness with so much left unresolved.

Obi-Wan looked back into his master's own sleeping chamber. It was only a little larger than Obi-Wan's, austere as befitted a Jedi. The simple comforts had been attended to -- like Obi-Wan's, Qui-Gon's bed was comfortable, and very good for jumping on, as he remembered from his early days as an apprentice. Simple pleasures provided some of the greatest and overlooked joy in life. Sleep, food, breathing, all of these were basic needs that provided much contentment when satisfied.

He returned to the outer room, a sitting area suitable for meditation, teaching and small meetings, to await his master's return.

When the door opened, Obi-Wan came to his feet. "Master."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "We must talk."

"Certainly, master. I am somewhat confused." As an admission, it was an understatement.

"I as well."

"Master?"

Qui-Gon gestured to the table, and Obi-Wan reseated himself. "I have spoken with Master Etil," he said, as he sat down. "She has given me much to think upon, but will not protest my change in our living arrangements."

I can stay. Relief blossomed inside his chest. "Thank you, master."

Qui-Gon regarded him with a steady, intent gaze. "It means so much to you then, to stay here?"

"It means so much to stay with you, master," Obi-Wan replied honestly.

"Ah." Qui-Gon considered for a long moment, then said, "Rest assured, Obi-Wan, you always have a place by my side. I will not push you away like that again. It was poorly judged of me. You are my apprentice, and my responsibility."

Obi-Wan tried to let that pass over him calmly. His place was because of his apprentice status. Even if it hurt to hear that he was a duty, nothing more. He would deal with that.

"There are four standard ways a master may deal with a padawan's feelings, if those feelings should become so serious as to make it necessary." Qui-Gon's quiet voice did not falter, and he continued to look at Obi-Wan, holding him in his gaze. "They divide into two major paths -- acknowledgement of the emotion, and refusal of it. I attempted to refuse your feelings."

Yes, I know that. I know why, too. "Yes, master."

Qui-Gon's expression sharpened. "I was wrong to do so."

"Master?"

"Refusal of the emotion is something that is done when it is impossible for the emotion to be accepted. When there is no true bond between master and apprentice, or when the master sees that any acknowledgement of the emotion will lead to disaster. When a master goes further than refusal of the emotion and sends an apprentice permanently away at this point, it is a refusal of the apprentice. Rarely done, it indicates that there is something deeply wrong revealed by the apprentice's emotion, or that serious harm will arise to either the master or apprentice if the feelings were acknowledged. Not may, but will."

It hurt to even think it, but Obi-Wan had to ask. "Is that why I was sent away? Because harm will come because of my feelings? I do not want you to accept harm in order to spare me pain--"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, padawan. It was not that. I... was in error. I had not realized the full implications of my actions. I believe a different path is indicated."

A different path? Could it be? Would Qui-Gon return his feelings? Hope soared daringly within him.

"When master and apprentice share a strong bond, the customary route to choose is acknowledgement of the padawan's change in feeling. To draw that additional feeling inside the bond and share it. That is what I should have done, and what I wish to do now, if you are willing to try again despite my earlier failure."

There were so many things he could have said, but they all meant the same thing, and so he said the two words that signified it all for him. "Yes, master."

"I do not return your feelings, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gravely. "That helped to mislead me in my earlier choice. And that may not change. But I will acknowledge and accept your feelings. They will be part of our bond, and I would be honored to share them with you and to aid you with them."

"How can my feelings be a part of our bond if you don't share them, master?" It wasn't what he'd wanted, and he didn't completely understand, but on the whole, it sounded good. Obi-Wan felt renewed trust in Qui-Gon, and something not-quite respect for his master's choice. Something more like love.

"If your feelings are part of our bond, I will share them. I do not wish to return them."

By now, Obi-Wan had been through enough that habits of silence mattered little. He could not bear it if Qui-Gon closed down on him again, but he needed to know. It was the return of the emotion that he needed most desperately. "Why not? What's wrong with me?"

Qui-Gon sighed heavily, but remained there, his eyes with Obi-Wan, and his presence in the Force not closed off. "There is no fault in you, Obi-Wan. It is a matter of..." He paused, then continued, voice rough. "Feeling. Feelings I thought I need not look at, which I had not dealt with. You... you are not my first apprentice, Obi-Wan. I made a terrible mistake before, and now... now we both have reaped the harvest of that inaction. The wisest thing to do now would be for me to spend time in meditation to order my own feelings. I cannot deal well with you until I have mastered my own emotions."

"Yes, master," Obi-Wan said, holding the resignation back from his voice. He was to be pushed away yet again, but he could not question Qui-Gon's decision. Everything his master said was true and logical. That was the way things should be. And he should be content that in the knowledge that his master had proved and promised that he would be there for Obi-Wan. Right?

"But I cannot do that.."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "But master..."

"You would suffer if I were to desert you again even more than you will suffer at the hands of my unleashed emotions. I do not see a perfect path through this entanglement. We shall have to muddle along the best we can." A slight smile touched Qui-Gon's lips.

Obi-Wan smiled back at the humor, then quickly sobered. "So what do we do, master? I... I would like to resolve things. In some way."

Qui-Gon nodded his understanding. He sat back in his chair. "Open your mind to me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan copied his master's posture, and closed his eyes, dropping his barriers. He felt Qui-Gon there, a reassuring bulwark at the edge of his thoughts. When his master received that recognition, he moved further into Obi-Wan's mind, until their thoughts moved easily between each other.

Send me your feelings, padawan.

Yes master.

Obi-Wan centered himself, before allowing first a trickle of emotion, then more to come forth from the place inside where he had been trying to cage them. He shared first the deep enduring bond that had formed early between them and left Obi-Wan always attuned with his master, that allowed their light telepathic connection to exist, that gave them the ability to function as almost one person. Not quite one person. Not entirely. But a sense of the other so profound that emotions, actions and thoughts could be nearly transparent.

The deep love flowed between them, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon accepting it, acknowledging it, and returning it to him threefold. That gave Obi-Wan the strength to move on, to pry open the dam behind which his other emotions were penned. More began to push out, the power of the stream working free other passages, until the entire blockage seemed to wash away in the intensity of suddenly allowed emotion.

Obi-Wan felt the emotions as they passed through the link. His initial realization, and the tender, frightened beginnings of a different kind of love for Qui-Gon. Wanting to touch him, to offer something more than the plain comfort of a padawan to his master's pain. Wanting to receive -- and give -- something other than the pale affirmations that stayed within the 'proper' bounds of their relationship. It wasn't precisely sexual -- more the desire to offer himself on every level to his master and be accepted on every one of them. To fully know and to be fully known.

To be limited to the bounds of a platonic relationship felt to be a crippling injury, with so much that could not be openly spoken, so much that had to be held back. Telling Qui-Gon that he loved him had only exacerbated the matter, for Qui-Gon had pulled away, giving Obi-Wan less of the contact he craved. Obi-Wan felt that and sent it to his master too. The need to give all, to be able to touch in any way to be allowed the freedom of his master's mind and body. For without it, he could sense his master's occasional difficulties, knew when a silence meant something more should be offered -- but was forever across a gap that he could not breach, could not fill in with himself, no matter how much he wanted to.

Obi-Wan hesitated, holding the rest of it back as best he could, waiting to know Qui-Gon's response.

His master touched the edges of his mind delicately, in the mental version of a restrained caress, much like a finger stroking across his cheek. I did not know how profoundly you felt. I thought...

Images came through their link, of sexuality and the feeling carried along with them that such things were superficial and not a goal worth reaching for on their own. An almost trivial matter, and not something to risk shattering a relationship for.

It isn't like that, Obi-Wan thought fiercely.

A soothing mental hand stroked his bristling thoughts. I know now.

And then Qui-Gon reciprocated, reflecting more of his own response. Obi-Wan felt his master's distress and now, acceptance, of what had seemed like a sudden rise in sexual desire in his apprentice. The recognition of Obi-Wan's need for a different kind of connection with him. Obi-Wan received it as a wash of conflicting emotion -- first the pulling back reaction, then the feeling of rejection, of never being willing to so risk his heart again...

Obi-Wan looked up, opening his eyes and staring at his master's partially closed lids.

Qui-Gon read his surprise, and felt the shock of reaction through their link. "Is it such a surprise that I have given my heart before?"

"No, master, but..." Obi-Wan struggled for words for something that had come at him as a inchoate mass of feeling. "You seem... to feel guilty because you loved."

Awkward as that statement was, Qui-Gon just accepted it, nodding. "That is true."

Obi-Wan burned to ask why, but words alone did not give him the answers he sought. The emotions playing through their link were more clear, and he closed his eyes again.

After a moment, he felt Qui-Gon's tentative probe, and grabbed onto it, letting support flow down their link, and daringly, more of the love and concern he felt -- the willingness and desire to do something, anything to help heal the fissure within Qui-Gon, to stroke his hair, to touch him and so communicate more closely. To share his pain, and by sharing, halve it.

No, Obi-Wan. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. You... I have withheld much from you.

Obi-Wan consciously relaxed his shielding, making sure it was as down as he could get it to go, as open as he could be to his master. He cared, and he was there to hear if his master would trust him enough to tell him.

A greater force enfolded him, and he was wrapped inside Qui-Gon's shields, which Obi-Wan could not relax. Your heart is good, Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan easily read Qui-Gon's hesitation. But?

I need to understand my own feelings before I can share them with you. Qui-Gon communicated his seriousness, and his absolute integrity while at the same time, holding close to the spark of Obi-Wan that was more truly him than the shelter of self called his body Tell me of your emotions. I will listen to you. I will be here for you.

It was a closer embrace than arms could give, and Obi-Wan pushed aside for the moment the troubling question of his master's own feelings. Slowly, he began again, letting out each emotion in turn, sharing each with Qui-Gon, and reveling quietly in the acceptance he found for them.

The exchange of emotions went more smoothly than Qui-Gon had expected. Obi-Wan had not pressed him on areas too difficult for him to answer, and Qui-Gon had gained an unexpected understanding of his apprentice's feelings.

Unexpected, because he had not realized how truly Obi-Wan's feelings ran.

Again, he felt gratitude to Master Etil for causing him to realize how poorly he had read Obi-Wan. If he had known, he would have made his initial decision necessary.

To be honest with himself, however, if he had been willing to see Obi-Wan's emotions, then he would have known. His own hesitance to face the past had led him to avoid the deeper contact that would have told him what his apprentice was feeling. And had nearly cost him that apprentice.

But he knew better now, and he felt a certain sense of awe in how much Obi-Wan was willing to trust him, how much his apprentice had allowed him to see. Qui-Gon had lost the innocence of that kind of trust a long time before.

And now, while his padawan polished his martial skills with Master Jar-es Bith, Qui-Gon knelt in meditation, deciding whether he needed to seek out further help, and from who.

He had first meditated to bring Obi-Wan's emotions fully within him, and accept them as completely as he was capable of -- and trying, or rather, failing, to reconcile those emotions with his own memories.

Obi-Wan felt about him in some of the same ways that Xanatos had. There were differences, but many more similarities which he could see. But he did not know whether it was the remembrance of his betrayal and pain that made Obi-Wan's emotions resemble Xanatos' own infatuation, that made Obi-Wan's devotion look like the same kind of foolish, misguided devotion Qui-Gon had felt for Xanatos. It could be that reflections of the past were coloring the present. It could also be that he was being tested by the Force, presented again with the problem he had stumbled over before, and being challenged this time to learn from the lessons he had been given, and make the right choice.

Except he had already stepped upon the path that lead away from wisdom, had placed Obi-Wan's well-being and feelings above his own vague presentiments -- or recollections -- that doom lurked on this new path.

So many things could be true, and Qui-Gon did not know how to separate the real from the shadows.

He had embroiled himself in a problem which could tear him apart, and at the very least, would force him to face the weakness left inside by Xanatos' turning to the dark side.

Qui-Gon needed counsel, needed another to sift his feelings.

He could not open himself to Obi-Wan until he had done so.

His emotions, confused as they were, could harm Obi-Wan, particularly given his padawan's current fragile emotional state. Obi-Wan seemed better this morning than he had the evening before, but the apprentice had gone through too many rapid emotional changes. Obi-Wan needed time to deal with his feelings.

As did he.

Qui-Gon pondered whether he should go to Mace Windu with this issue. He dealt easily with the other master, despite some disagreements on council policy. Their communication styles were similar, and they shared a commonality of experience. Windu would be able to relate to his problem, and would listen with an open mind.

But it would be much like using a mirror to divine his feelings. One could learn from a mirror -- sometimes, the most obvious things went unnoticed by a person, and knowing what one projected was a strength.

What he needed, though, was a lightsaber. A tool to illuminate the darkness, and burn clean the parts of him that he had allowed to fester.

And when it came to lightsabers, the person he thought of first was Master Etil.

"You want me to do what?"

Qui-Gon wondered why he had expected Etil's initial response to be favorable. "I need help in dealing with an experience from my past that I believe is affecting my ability to deal appropriately with my apprentice."

"That's what I thought you said." Etil looked hard at him. "So you want to open up now. And you don't know how. Is that it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head.

"Sure you do. Even if you think you don't." She settled back into the couch. "Something happened to you, and it's keeping you from getting close to anyone. You haven't dealt with it, or failed to deal with it, and now you want to."

"That's right."

"What was it? Something went wrong between you and your master when you were a padawan? Or," her gaze sharpened, "did something go wrong with you and a previous padawan of yours?"

He nodded. "You could say that."

"What exactly? You know, this works better if you tell me what's going on in your head. I can't guess everything."

"But you do so well at it," Qui-Gon murmured.

She laughed, but her tone remained hard when she spoke. "Tell me."

He folded his hands into his sleeves, folding his composure around himself with the same gesture. "My second padawan turned to the Dark Side."

"And?" she prompted.

Of course she knew that there was more to the story than that. "And I thought myself to be in love with him."

"Hmm," she said. When Qui-Gon didn't offer another comment, she went on. "Did you tell him?"

"I didn't need to. He knew."

"But did you tell him? In words?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I thought it would be best to wait until he passed his knighthood trials. They were so close when I realized how I felt -- there was no need to interfere with the last of his training."

"No need. Of course not." She didn't elaborate further. "Did he pass the trials?"

"He did not take the trials. He... the council had a final test for him. He failed." Qui-Gon paused, eyes dark with remembered anguish.

"And he went over to the Dark Side," Etil completed for him. "He wasn't meant to be a Jedi. Probably shouldn't have even trained as one, if the council at the time was that unsure of him."

"I thought he would be the perfect knight."

"Well, you were wrong. That happens. You live with it, and you move on."

"I did."

"Obviously not very well. So, you loved this apprentice of yours, and when he failed, you started doubting yourself, couldn't deal with it, and decided just to not love anybody ever again, especially a padawan of yours. Do I have that right?"

"It's not that simple..."

"Okay," Etil said reasonably. "Then explain it to me."

He smiled ruefully, recognizing that she had trapped him neatly. Even though he had come to her with the intention of unburdening himself, it was still difficult to speak of things so long kept locked away. "It was that I didn't see the flaw in him. I overlooked his pride, and failed to notice that it had spoiled in him until that pride was more important to him than anything."

"Even you."

He felt a little stunned. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Part of you did. Had to. Somewhere you got the message that you couldn't make good decisions based on your emotions. I'm betting that this is where."

"I think that came from Jedi training."

"No. I don't think so. Using your feelings, and letting the Force guide you is an important part of being Jedi. Sure, you can be emotionless and logical -- certainly, control is a valuable thing. But you have to listen to your feelings, assuming you have any. And you have them."

He raised his eyebrows at her comment, but continued with his story. "I did not expect Obi-Wan." A slight smile. "Obi-Wan was unexpected in more than one way. He... I have trouble deciding what I feel about him. There is nothing that isn't proper for our relationship as master and padawan, but still... still, I think that you were right and I was pushing him away because something in me was denying closeness. I have spoken with Obi-Wan -- he revealed his feelings to me, and I have acknowledged them as part of our bond. But I can't reciprocate."

"You don't return his feelings. I got that part."

"No -- it's not that. Not precisely. It's... I want to be as open with him as he was with me. To show him my side of the bond. And I can't. There's... confusion where there should be clarity."

"Why don't you show him that, if that's what you feel?"

"In Obi-Wan's current state of mind, I don't think that would be wise."

She shrugged. "Your decision. But part of what a bond's about is give-and-take."

"I see." Qui-Gon retreated into formality.

"I doubt it. Get over your past. It happened, it's done with. You can't redo it. All you can do is live with it. Stop letting one bad decision tell you how and who you can love. If you love the boy, then open up to him. If you don't, open up anyway. You're too closed off to be healthy."

He nodded. "Thank you for your advice."

"Whatever. Take it -- that's what matters, not thanking me. You think too much."

Feeling battered around the edges, Qui-Gon stood, then left Etil's quarters. He walked slowly back to his own, wondering about what Etil had said. Was she right? Was the problem as simple as she seemed to think it was?

He doubted it. If the problem were that simple, he would have solved it before this. He would not have needed to speak with her.

But he would nonetheless consider her words. He had sought her help, and he would not dismiss it without examining first what he had been given.

Even if it did seem to be worthless.

Go back to part 1

Go on to part 3

Go on to part 4

Go on to part 5