Woven

Immediately upon landing on Coruscant, the healers took Obi-Wan. The padawan did not complain, not even looking to his master for support. This quiet grimness was unusual and Qui-Gon felt himself searching his padawan's eyes for a sign of irritation or self-depreciating humor or anything that would expose the man the Jedi master had come to love.

Obi-Wan's wounds were healing, but not as quickly as Qui-Gon would have expected. As far as the Jedi master could tell, the healing Force he had sent was funneling into nowhere. This whole situation had Qui-Gon feeling utterly unbalanced.

Qui-Gon followed the healers and Obi-Wan through the Temple. Obi-Wan simply allowed himself to be carried. The padawan's face was a blank mask.

When the entourage arrived, the medical staff bustled around Obi-Wan, attaching him to monitors, testing his fluid levels, and doing other generally unpleasant things to his poor abused body. Obi-Wan never even flinched.

A huge three-fingered hand gently touched Qui-Gon's arm as he stood silently, watching the healers work. "Master Jinn? I'm Master Wlere. I have a few questions about your padawan."

"Go ahead. I'll answer them to the best of my abilities."

"Please, Master Jinn," the eight-foot tall humanoid smiled, her teeth sharp and pointed. "You look exhausted. Come into my office, we'll have some cha, relax and talk." Black eyes glittering, the healer looked down at Qui-Gon. He looked through the window at Obi-Wan, sitting perfectly still, eyes blank and dead. He nodded in reluctant acquiescence.

Healer Wlere's office was comfortably sized for her, which had the added bonus of feeling more than spacious enough for Qui-Gon's long limbs. The Master Healer settled into her chair and rang for some cha. "Master Jinn·"

"Qui-Gon."

"Qui-Gon," her face bloomed in a toothy grin. "I read the report you sent about your padawan learner. I am currently awaiting the results of the tests my associates are running."

"Yes? Is there something you don't understand?"

"I just need to know more details about Obi-Wan's state when you found him. How did he get released from the energy stasis he was in?"

"I'm not sure how M'lss got him out. I was concentrating on keeping him alive, not discovering how the Marshon works." Qui-Gon's voice was grim and tired, marking his growing frustration.

Wlere held up a hand. "No, please don't misunderstand me, Qui-Gon. I understand the challenge you faced. Your padawan is in fairly good shape considering his ordeal. In fact, as soon as your report came in, I went back and researched all of the information Healer K'thia had sent us. She studied with the Marshon D'lth for many years."

"The current Marshon did mention that to me."

"Well, the problem I'm fearing, honestly, is a particular sort of psychosis, a Force aberration that K'thia felt would be the result of an over-long submersion within the stasis." The healer bent over her datapad, typing.

"How long?"

"Excuse me, Master Jinn?"

"How long is an 'over-long' submersion?"

"Well, it would depend on the situation, the preparedness of the patient, the·"

Qui-Gon stood, slamming his hand on Wlere's desk. "How long!" He roared.

"One month."

"But -- but... Obi-Wan was in there·" Qui-Gon slowly sank back into the chair.

"Three times as long. There's no way to know exactly what happened to him while he was in there. We have no data on this problem. We have no way of knowing what the effects might·"

The healer's office door opened and a young Wookie lumbered in, carrying a tray with cups and a steaming pot. Qui-Gon fought to keep an unexpected burst of humor hidden as the Master Healer grunted and growled out a greeting. "Master Jinn, this is my apprentice, Tuuebecc."

Qui-Gon stood and greeted the young apprentice, who was almost as tall as Qui-Gon himself. The Wookie's eyes were fierce and quick, and Qui-Gon felt as if he were being scanned. The Wookie turned and grunted and hooted at his master.

Wlere nodded. "Tuuebecc thinks you need rest, Master Jinn. He was just thrashing me for keeping you here, instead of sending you off to bed.

"He is very astute. You must be very proud of him."

"I couldn't possibly be more proud." The Jedi Master saw the Wookie's nose darken slightly in embarrassment as he turned and shambled out of the door.

Wlere poured the cha and handed a cup to Qui-Gon. "He's a bright lad. The Force sent me a good match." The healer peered at Qui-Gon. "I think you and your padawan were also a good match?"

"Yes, we were... are! We are a good match. I·I care for him very deeply." Qui-Gon stared at the healer; she seemed to be shimmering in her chair.

Wlere sat her cup down and stared directly at the Jedi master. "You must be prepared to deal with the worst, Master Jinn. From the information you gave us, your apprentice is not unscarred mentally. His body· that I can heal. Even his brain, but his soul... that's a completely different situation."

"But· surely a soul healer·" The edges of his vision were definitely beginning to dim, closing in around him.

"Of course. Of course, we'll help your apprentice in every way we can. I just· Qui-Gon!" The large man blinked at the healer slowly, trembling hands ineffectively trying to push his long hair out of his face.

"I'm·"

The healer stood and walked over to Qui-Gon, grasping his head and looking into his eyes. "Force! Tuuebecc was right. You're exhausted. You've held everything together for your padawan. You've been through a monstrous time and then I bring you in here and fill your head with possibilities and speculations." Wlere sighed deeply. Her glinting teeth fascinated Qui-Gon as she backed away. "Besides, niceties are not my strong suit. You need rest, Master Jinn. Rest."

"I need to stay with Obi-Wan."

"Qui-Gon, he's probably already asleep. He's been sedated. We will take care of him. I promise." Wlere stood, holding her three-fingered hand out. "Come on. Go home."

"Master Wlere, I won't go without seeing him." Qui-Gon stubbornly headed towards the room where he had last seen Obi-Wan.

"Fine. Tell him good night, then go get some rest."

Obi-Wan was curled up on his side, covered in a light sheet. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady and slow. Qui-Gon softly stroked the hair as he bent down to brush his lips against the exposed cheekbone.

"Good night, my love," Qui-Gon whispered. "You're home. You're safe." He stayed there, breathing in the scent of Obi-Wan, which was slowly becoming more and more recognizable. Master Wlere cleared her throat softly and Qui-Gon backed up and left the room.

A single tear slid down and hid itself within the white pillowcase, dampening it.

Qui-Gon was on his way to his rooms when his com link beeped. "Yes?"

"Master Jinn. Safely home have you come?"

"Yes, Master Yoda."

"Needed you are in my quarters."

"Yes, Master, but my report to the Council·"

"Wait the Council will, Padawan. See you now, I will." The com link connection broke off.

Qui-Gon sighed and headed towards his former master's quarters. Each step Qui-Gon took seemed to take longer than the one before. By the time he reached Yoda's door, he was swaying slightly. The door slid open and Qui-Gon stumbled into the room, falling to his knees.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, exhaustion and pain coursing through him. He was mortified to hear a low groan of pain escape his lips. Qui-Gon then felt cool hands cradling his head, as they had when he was a child. A rush of energy flowed through him, calming the chaos that had been haunting the Jedi master.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes, looking into the deep green eyes of his master. The dry, gentle fingers brushed over his forehead. "Sleep, Padawan mine. In the morning, talk we will. Sore is your heart and regret I do my part in it."

"Master·" Qui-Gon struggled to sit up, but found he could not rise. "Face it, Jinn. This floor's not that uncomfortable. It's not like you haven't slept on it before. Hell, that night you and Mace went down to that bar in·"

Yoda stared down at the sleeping man in front of him. Gently he levitated Qui-Gon into the room he had slept in years ago as a padawan. Qui-Gon settled in, moaning and moving restlessly. Yoda's ears drooped as he draped a light blanket over the sleeping form. Settling down beside him, Yoda continued to caress the graying hair before him, comforting his former padawan throughout the night.

Qui-Gon awoke to the disorienting sight of his master's bright eyes peering near-sightedly down at him, as they had so many times before. "Master?"

"Be at peace, Padawan. Tired you were and safe here with me. Slept for over two days, you have. Sleep you needed, I think."

"Two days! Have you heard from the healers, Master? How is Obi-Wan? Has he asked for me?"

"Progressing well, he is. Very thin, tired, I think. Stay one more week, he should, says Wlere. Then home to rest."

Qui-Gon sat up, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. He ran his fingers through his hair, catching on tangles. "I should go and bathe before I see my padawan. I feel as if I have just returned from fighting a war."

"Afraid I am, that begun your war you have not, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon frowned, trying to interpret Yoda's words and failing. "What do you mean, Master?"

Yoda stared harshly, "Spoke to you, did Wlere? Then know you do that not well is your apprentice. Sent him to Larquis I did for his heart to heal. Wrong I was. Now, more damage there is than before."

Qui-Gon looked at his former master, blue eyes glinting. "What do you mean, Master?"

Yoda sighed deeply. "Know I did that in danger Larquis was. Warnings there were of coming conflict, of Darkness."

"Why, Master? Why would you send my padawan into danger without warning him? Without warning me?"

"Assurances we had from the Senate that solved the problem was. Senator Palpatine himself, arrangements he made between the rulers of Larquis and Almevii. Safe it was, I believed."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, seeing red sparks fly along his eyelids. He breathed deeply, letting go of his frustrations. "I must see to Obi-Wan, help him recover. The circumstances of his condition are beside the point. Now, Obi-Wan's immediate health is my concern."

"Yes. Now must you help him."

Qui-Gon rose to his feet and straightened his tunics, thinking, "A shower is definitely in order."

"Thank you, Master," he said, smiling at the beloved old face, "for your help and your care."

"One thing more, Padawan·"

"Yes, Master?"

"Earlier, spoke with me did Master Wlere. A· complication with your padawan there is."

"A complication? What complication?"

"Wlere says, touch the Force your Obi-Wan cannot."

"What? That's impossible. Even when he was catatonic, he could access the Force. Master, he destroyed eighty percent of the medical unit on the ship!"

"Talk you must to Wlere. Help you, she can. First, bathe, then eat. Then to the healers you should go."

"Yes, Master."

Wlere was cautiously optimistic, telling Qui-Gon that, except for the months within the Web, Obi-Wan's memory was intact, he seemed to have no sensory damage, and he would make a full physical recovery.

"What about my padawan's Force-sense?"

Wlere frowned. "His midichlorian levels are only slightly suppressed, which is a reasonable effect from being so ill. However, he seems completely unaware of the Force. He does not appear to be distressed, but his heart rate and blood pressure show his level of unease. He is not sleeping and his body is fighting any artificial sleep-enhancers we try to administer."

Qui-Gon and the Master Healer stood, looking through the observation window at the young man resting in the bed. Obi-Wan's bruises were beginning to fade, but he was still painfully thin and pale. His eyes were still water, unmoving, just staring blankly into the room. "I want to take him home, Wlere."

"Master Jinn, you cannot·"

"I want to take him home. He doesn't like being here. He needs to be at home."

"Qui-Gon, I won't let you take him·"

Qui-Gon turned, looking up at the healer. "Wlere, he is my apprentice, my best friend. I know him better than anyone. You know I wouldn't hurt him. Sith hells, Wlere, I love him. I want to take him home."

The Master Healer looked down at the Jedi master and Qui-Gon thought he could see her brain weighing his request. Qui-Gon looked back at Obi-Wan and knew that his padawan needed to get out of here, needed to be back where they could talk, where things could get back to normal. If he had to use Yoda's influence, even if he had to walk in there, pick Obi-Wan up and abduct him, he was going to take his padawan home and make Obi-Wan whole again.

Wlere sighed, shaking her head. "I don't like this, Master Jinn."

"Wlere, I'm taking him home, with or without your cooperation." Qui-Gon turned his back to the healer and headed towards Obi-Wan's room.

The huge three-fingered hand grabbed Qui-Gon's shoulder and slammed him into the observation window. She bent down and growled fiercely, "Don't assume because you're a knight that you can intimidate me, Jinn! I was fighting wars in my homeland before you could lift Yoda's lightsaber. Listen, Master Jinn, I don't know who you think you are, but Obi-Wan is my patient and if I decide that he stays in that room until you die of old age or frustration, that is my prerogative." Obi-Wan sat on the bed, looking at the scene unfolding outside his window, a dulled look of confusion on his face.

Qui-Gon tensed underneath Wlere's hands and she firmed her grip. "Don't try it. I'm not in the mood for games. I don't care how mad you are, how important you are or how guilty you feel. If I send him with you, it will be because I feel it is the best solution for him." Wlere shook Qui-Gon firmly. Obi-Wan's confused look deepened.

"I'm sorry, Wlere. I· I just feel·" Qui-Gon was silenced by the large head dipping in close to him. Those teeth looked exceedingly sharp.

"Home, but in bed. I will see him every day. You will assure me that he is taking his medications and you will give me daily updates. He will be fed what I want him fed. If one thing goes wrong, I want him back here and I will have you dragged along the lower levels of Coruscant by your tongue! Do your hear me, Jinn? Not one thing had better go wrong."

Qui-Gon released the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. "Thank you, Wlere."

The healer nodded shortly and released the Jedi master. "Just remember what I said, Jinn -- by your tongue."

"Yes, Master Wlere, I understand."

Qui-Gon headed for Obi-Wan's room, absently rubbing his sore shoulders. Obi-Wan was still staring at the window, slowly blinking. "Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, it's time to go home."

"Home?" The padawan turned his head to stare at his master.

"Yes, Padawan. Master Wlere has said you can come home with me."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan sat there, staring steadily until Qui-Gon touched his arm.

"Padawan, let's get you wrapped up in a cloak and then we'll head home."

"Oh, yes. I don't need you to help, Master." Obi-Wan slid off the bed, holding himself up with one hand until his shaky legs stabilized. Then he reached for the cloak that Qui-Gon held out to him. Obi-Wan wrapped the cloak around him and walked out of the room, seeming to have aged twenty years.

The padawan walked from the healers towards their quarters, firmly refusing any help from his master. Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's pale, drawn face as it moved through the long corridors. He wanted to stop, simply scoop Obi-Wan up in his arms and carry him home, but he couldn't be sure that Obi-Wan would welcome even a hand on his elbow for support.

Finally, they entered their quarters. "We're home, Padawan."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon stretched, his back popping and cracking. He smiled at Obi-Wan, who stood wavering by the door, and waved his hand towards the common room. "You need to rest, Obi-Wan. Go and sit for a while and I'll get us something to snack on." Qui-Gon headed towards the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, "Padawan, what would you like to drink?"

"Nothing, Master. I'm going to bed, if that's acceptable." Qui-Gon flinched at the monotone voice that floated in, disembodied.

"Of course, Padawan. If you need anything, just call."

"I won't, Master. Good day."

As Qui-Gon sat down at the dining table, resting his head in his hands, he heard Obi-Wan's bedroom door open and then shut firmly.

"Sleep well, Obi-Wan. Sleep well."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look at the same long crack he had been staring at for almost two weeks. The crack was long, meandering along the wall like a river, or perhaps a quala root.

"If I'd been a farmer, I'd know for sure if it looked like a quala root," Obi-Wan thought, staring at the wall. His eyes were gritty and seemed to weigh as much as a full-grown bantha, but they wouldn't close. Hard as he tried, Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn't sleep.

He hadn't slept more than fifteen minutes at a time since Qui-Gon had brought him home in disgrace. "Master Yoda sends me on a no-brained non-mission and he has to send Qui-Gon after me. Some padawan I am," Obi-Wan thought bitterly.

Every time he closed his eyes, Obi-Wan could see the face of Healer K'thia as she helped him integrate into the Web.

He had thought, when he woke, that he would be able to face his master with a calm heart, to fight for him. Instead, when he had opened his eyes it was to an eerily silent master and a shattered bond.

Obi-Wan hated the pity in those eyes. Qui-Gon was devastated. Obi-Wan could see it in the deepened lines on his face, the slump of the strong shoulders. Qui-Gon had the look of a man who had been betrayed, and it broke Obi-Wan's heart to know he was the cause.

Everything was different. Nothing felt the same, nowhere felt like home. "Even my 'saber's gone," he whispered.

Obi-Wan could remember everything. Putting his cloak, his clothes, his lightsaber in a box and giving it to K'thia. She had promised that the experience would be breathtaking, that he would awaken refreshed and possessing a newfound sense of balance. Obi-Wan laughed bitterly, the only thing he had come away with was a dirty, stained, repulsive piece of cloth that Qui-Gon insisted he keep.

Not being able to sleep, knowing his master was embarrassed, those weren't the worst things. Obi-Wan felt his hands begin to shake. Even the shame of needing to be rescued paled next to the overwhelming truth that engulfed Obi-Wan's current existence.

He could no longer access the Force.

The Force was there, teasing him, singing for him. It was a lingering taste of sweetness. Obi-Wan would sit for hours listening to it, feeling it, but when he tried to reach for the Force, nothing happened.

His mind would freeze, teeth gripped. He would stay, clenched within himself, aching to feel that music pour through him, fill him.

A cold blankness was the only response to that ache.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes quickly when he heard Qui-Gon at the door. "Padawan? Are you sleeping?" Obi-Wan didn't move, didn't give any indication that he had heard that voice.

Obi-Wan jumped as the bed dipped. "Padawan, we need to talk. It's been two weeks since you've been home. The healers are ready for you to begin some basic training again. They say that·"

The padawan's mind whirled, emotions flashing through it like broken lightning bolts. Training? Now it was back to training? He'd been gone for months and he got a blasted two-week respite before returning to training? He still had body weight to recover, sleep to find, and the Force. "Oh, gods· the Force," he thought.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, face still. "Yes, Master. It will be useful to return to my routine."

Nothing had been said of the horrible situation building between them. Not one word uttered about the fact that Qui-Gon had wanted to turn him aside. Obi-Wan knew the Jedi master was waiting, waiting for him to be a whole person again, so there would be no need for guilt.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon continued, "please look at me."

Obi-Wan gathered his pride and slowly opened his eyes. Qui-Gon looked drawn and tired. His indigo eyes were sunken and glassy. Obi-Wan wanted to reach out, to stroke that cheek, but could not bring himself to move, depressed into immobility.

"Obi-Wan· I· you know that I love you, don't you? You know that I would never intentionally hurt you?" Obi-Wan heard the desperate pleading in Qui-Gon's voice.

"Oh Force!" the thought zipped through Obi-Wan's mind. "He's leaving. This is his way of letting me know he doesn't want me. 'I love you,' he says like I'm some stray in need of rescue."

Obi-Wan's distant eyes never left Qui-Gon's face. His master sat silently for a moment, then sighed. "Well, Padawan, I have a meeting today with the Senate to discuss the situation in Larquis and the atrocities visited upon the inhabitants there."

"Will the Senate be needing me to describe what happened, Master?"

"No, Padawan. You won't be needed today." Qui-Gon stood up, straightening his tunics. "I suppose you're on our own today, Obi-Wan. I'll be back after the evening meal."

Qui-Gon turned and walked away without another word. Obi-Wan watched him leave, listening to the familiar sounds of the Jedi master gathering his things and leaving. Obi-Wan sighed and slid his weary legs off of the bed.

He wandered into the kitchen, blinking into the full cabinets, trying to decide if anything looked appetizing. Obi-Wan turned away, stomach roiling at the thought of food. Sighing heavily, he decided he needed a shower.

After stumbling into the 'fresher, he turned on the water to its warmest setting. The heat soothed his muscles, giving a measure of comfort. Obi-Wan sank to the floor, allowing the water to beat down upon him, to relax him. He felt the exhaustion creeping upon him and his eyes drifted shut.

Obi-Wan looked around him. He was in the Temple, but it seemed dim to his eyes, almost faded. He wandered aimlessly down the halls, waiting to see someone he knew.

"I must be dreaming."

Finally, Obi-Wan found himself outside in the gardens. He sniffed deeply, enjoying the green scent of growth. The gardens smelled like his master, a healthy, rich soil. Obi-Wan steadily crossed through the paths in the gardens, stopping to caress a flower or straighten a crooked plant. Finally, he sank to his knees on a clear patch of ground and tried to meditate.

He felt the Force dancing on the edges of his awareness. Obi-Wan breathed slowly, filling his lungs. He tried to imagine his mind stretching out, grasping the violet stream that bubbled beyond his grip.

"Yes, that's it. I just need to reach·"

Suddenly, the gardens went pitch black and Obi-Wan smelled an acrid smoke. He jumped to his feet, wishing he had his lightsaber. Turning this way and that, he searched for a fire, a light, something that would explain the altered environment.

A scream pierced the darkness, making Obi-Wan shudder. The sound continued, rising in pitch and volume. He turned toward the noise and stumbled forward blindly, pushing through trees and plants that seemed to have grown thorns and wickedly bent roots.

Obi-Wan reached the edge of the garden as the scream continued. The noise battered at him, scared him deep in his bones. He ran through the long corridors of the Temple, panting, searching for the source of that sound. Finally, tripping over some unseen obstacle, Obi-Wan fell hard to his knees. Panting, sweat pouring from his exhausted body, Obi-Wan crawled forward until he bumped against a door.

He pulled himself up, reaching for the door lock. To his surprise, the door slid open. He stumbled into a room filled with crimson light. The walls and doorways were covered in the bright glow, staining Obi-Wan's tunics.

As he stood there, the padawan saw a flash of light from the next room. Obi-Wan moved through the room, feeling as if he were moving through thick, cold water. The lights grew brighter as he moved towards the doorway, sparks of greens intermingling with darker reds.

Obi-Wan's storm-cloud eyes widened as he saw his master furiously battling a black-clad humanoid covered with horns and red and black tattoos. Qui-Gon's opponent was fighting beautifully and Obi-Wan could see his master beginning to tire. Obi-Wan tried to move through the door, but found himself pushed back, prevented from assisting.

Obi-Wan watched in horror as Qui-Gon overextended his thrust and the creature bashed him in the face with the double-handed lightsaber he held. As Qui-Gon reeled, the dark monster impaled him, the beloved body shuddering on the burning blade before slumping to the ground. Obi-Wan screamed, throwing himself at the doorway. The tattooed monster faded through another doorway as the gleaming light that separated master from padawan faded.

Obi-Wan hurtled towards his master, sobbing. "Master. Oh, Force, no. Master!" He knelt next to Qui-Gon, trembling.

Qui-Gon's eyes opened, fiercely glittering. "Why didn't you come, Padawan? I needed you. Why didn't you come?"

"I tried, Master· I couldn't get through the door. There was a light· I tried·"

"There is no try, Padawan. You failed me." This last was said on a gurgling sigh as the blue orbs closed.

"Master!" Obi-Wan bent to stroke the long, soft hair, cradling Qui-Gon's head in his hands as he wept.

So engrossed was he in mourning his lover, Obi-Wan was stunned to feel himself being jerked to his feet, iron bands of Force surrounding his upper arms. Qui-Gon's head bounced off the floor with a sickening thump as Obi-Wan's body was smashed against the wall.

A figure, completely hidden in an ebony robe, moved into the padawan's vision. "So, Kenobi, we meet again."

Obi-Wan felt an enormous wave of pain surround him as the Dark man moved closer. The padawan struggled to remain silent, bloodying his lips against the screams. The face moved closer, marred by an oily smirk.

"If you beg me, I will release you."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and shook his head. A blow caught him across the throat and he gagged, blood filling his mouth. "If you beg me, I will release you."

Again, the slow negative motion of the head.

Again, the blow struck, white-hot agony dancing along the battered nerves.

"If you beg me·"

Graveled whisper, "I will not beg."

A sickening crunch sounded through the room and Obi-Wan tensed, anticipating the pain. When none came, the green eyes slipped open. The Dark figure was beating the still body on the floor with a lightsaber, leaving evil, smoking marks.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Qui-Gon was dead. His master was one with the Force. He could not feel this final desecration.

/Obi-Wan, beloved, help me. Please, Padawan. Oh Force, it hurts!/

"Master!" the hoarse cry tore its way from Obi-Wan and the man stopped his methodical beating and turned towards the padawan once again, lightsaber glowing.

"Beg me and I will stop."

Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon's fallen lightsaber resting beside the body on the floor, knew he should be able to reach for it, retrieve it. He fought to focus, to gather up some small part of the person he had been.

Nothing happened.

The cloaked figure raised the gleaming lightsaber above Qui-Gon's neck, threatening decapitation. "Beg me, Kenobi, or I will destroy him."

/For me, Padawan./

"Please."

"Please."

"Please."

"Obi-Wan! Padawan! Wake up! Wake up!" Obi-Wan opened his eyes, slowly focusing on his master's face. Qui-Gon's face was dripping with icy water and Obi-Wan abruptly found himself shivering.

Qui-Gon gathered him up, cradling the shaking man to his chest. "Shh, Padawan. Shh· I've got to get you warm. How long have you been in there? Force, you're freezing." Setting him gently on the bed, Qui-Gon gathered blankets and tucked them around Obi-Wan, heading toward the common room. "Sit still. I'll be right back."

"Master?" Obi-Wan' eyes skipped around the room disjointedly. The entire space was in shambles, things torn off walls, knocked off of shelves. Furniture was thrown this way and that. Someone had destroyed their quarters.

Qui-Gon returned, carrying a steaming cup. "Here, Obi-Wan, drink this." Obi-Wan reached up, hands trembling fiercely. He hissed as the liquid splashed over his fingers. Large hands covered his, steadying the cup and raising it to his blue lips.

"What happened, Master?"

"I'm not sure, Obi-Wan. Master Yoda contacted me, told me you were in some distress." The cup was raised to his lips for another long drink. "Don't worry about it, Padawan. Not now. For now let's get you warm."

Qui-Gon set the cup aside and wrapped Obi-Wan in his arms. Obi-Wan listened to the steady beating of the heart beneath his ear, eyes peering sleeplessly as the hours passed.

Obi-Wan knelt in the garden facing his master, keeping his eyes squeezed shut against the day's brightness as he tried not to cry. The desolate padawan forced his muscles to stay stiff, constantly fighting their desire to collapse. The ground's warmth seeped into his legs and the soft grass pillowed him as his knelt.

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's breath brush against his cheek, soft and teasing. Every morning, after they broke their fast, Qui-Gon lead them out to this spot in the gardens. Every morning Obi-Wan watched as the Jedi master sank deeply into his meditations, fully expecting his padawan to follow. Obi-Wan sat, mind beating itself against self-made walls, trying to create a center out of chaos, and failing.

For eighteen days, Obi-Wan had been playing a role. He had spent hours in meditation. He attended classes, watched sparring, ate in the dining hall. He attended to his master's needs and acted with supreme calm and serenity. He did everything a senior padawan who was on the mend from an illness should do.

Or at least Obi-Wan spent hours making it appear that was the case.

Each morning Obi-Wan crawled out of bed, head swimming. From the moment Obi-Wan had experienced his nightmare in the shower, he had refused to sleep more than ten minutes at a time.

He could feel his temper slipping more every day that passed, but at least he did not dream. Obi-Wan lived in constant terror of those dreams, with their wild, uncontrollable results. Qui-Gon had not commented, not blamed him for the destruction of their quarters, but Obi-Wan knew where his responsibility lay.

Obi-Wan had attempted to spend these long, sleepless hours with some agemates, but they quickly stopped answering his invitations. Even Bant had begun to avoid him. He simply didn't fit anymore and the frustration was a constant tickle in his mind.

As the days slipped by, Obi-Wan grew to crave those stolen moments of sleep, those tiny minutes where he could leave the aching shell of his body and drift.

As Obi-Wan finally heard the familiar noises of Qui-Gon readying himself for the day, he would reach for the Force he sensed swirling around him and then feel himself crumple inside when, yet again, nothing happened. Then he would stumble into the 'fresher, shivering under the cold water, hoping to shock some awareness into his system.

Obi-Wan tried to focus. "If you can't meditate, Padawan," he told himself firmly, "then at least try to remember the things you can do." The classes weren't terribly bad, the information about biology and space propulsion hadn't changed. The studying seemed to take longer than he had remembered, but it was still fulfilling.

"And be honest, Obi· you can still spar. It's not as easy, but it is doable. Soon, you should be able to spar with other padawans again without embarrassing yourself or your master." Of course, until he made a new lightsaber, he'd be stuck using the practice one like an initiate. Obi-Wan had made a determined effort to make sure Qui-Gon had no reason to turn him aside. They had sparred together, at one-quarter speed, and Obi-Wan thought he hadn't done too badly, considering.

"Besides, Qui-Gon knows that physically you've been through a lot."

After the horrible day when Obi-Wan had fallen asleep in the 'fresher and their quarters had been destroyed, Qui-Gon had insisted that Obi-Wan spend three hours each day in meditation with him. Obi-Wan dreaded these sessions, struggling to fight against the need for sleep while being made constantly aware of his own shortcomings.

A long, sad sigh caused Obi-Wan's eyes to pop open. Qui-Gon was looking at him, disappointment covering his face. Obi-Wan followed his master's stare to his hands, which were constantly in motion, rustling against his tunics. Jerking, he tucked his hands into his clothing, holding them still against his body, feeling his face flush crimson. "Oh· I'm sorry, Master."

"Padawan, there's no reason to apologize."

The young man's mouth opened, ready to explain and Qui-Gon gently raised his hand to silence him. "I mean it, Obi-Wan. No apologies. This· blockage· you're experiencing will heal itself in time. You must believe that."

"Master, I·"

"We will continue to work through this together."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Master, I haven't been able to access the Force. The meditation hasn't helped· I just sit here, feeling nothing."

That breath fluttered across the distraught padawan's face again. "Obi-Wan. You should not have to struggle so. The Force is all around you."

"I know that, Master."

"You must trust in that."

"I do, Master."

"Do you, Padawan?"

The disappointment in those eyes was caustic, burning into the raw edges of his psyche. Obi-Wan simply closed his mouth and nodded, slowly getting to his feet. Qui-Gon rose gracefully, his padawan could almost see the Force moving around him. Obi-Wan was a starving man watching a feast.

"Come, Padawan. We have some things to discuss that would be best kept in our quarters."

Obi-Wan followed, behind and to the left, as was his place. "Not your place for long, Padawan," he thought. "He's going to turn you aside, you know that." Obi-Wan stumbled gracelessly behind the man who he loved, blinded by his own miserable tears.

When they reached their quarters, Obi-Wan headed for the kitchen, hoping desperately to avoid this particular confrontation. "Master, would you like some cha?"

Qui-Gon shook his head solemnly and motioned towards the common room. "Please, Padawan. Sit down."

Obi-Wan moved towards the couch, feeling as if he were walking to his execution. He could feel panic gibbering at the edges of his mind, making his breath quicken and his hands tremble. Qui-Gon looked so cold, so superior, sitting there and passing judgement. It suddenly occurred to Obi-Wan that it must be nice to feel so comfortable. Obi-Wan wondered why he had never felt so comfortable in these quarters.

"How dare he sit there and study me as if I were some creature in a laboratory? Passing judgement, like he could possibly understand what I've been through. He's so secure· surrounded in the living Force. Self-assured bastard. If I could only reach the Force, I'd·"

Obi-Wan stopped suddenly, feeling a heat rising up within him. Gods, it was so good, so good to feel something, something beyond that eternal emptiness and agony. He breathed deeply, allowing the rage to fill him, meandering along spiritual paths left empty and aching. His eyes flashing, Obi-Wan glared at the man sitting before him.

"I've already apologized, Master. I'm terribly sorry to have disappointed you, but I am still healing. I do have clearance from the healers. I am attending my classes, attending my sparring sessions, attending those damnable hours watching you breathe while my knees ache! I am doing everything you're demanding of me!" Obi-Wan's voice gathered in energy until the words rang throughout the chamber, shattering any illusion of peace.

Qui-Gon sat, seemingly stunned, as Obi-Wan screamed. When the tirade slowed, Obi-Wan panting and glassy-eyed, Qui-Gon looked up, lifting one eyebrow sardonically. "Very well, Padawan. I had no idea attempting meditation was causing you this level of pain. How, exactly, would you suggest you spend your time? I do have duties of my own to perform. We cannot forget there is an entire planet waiting for the Senate to decide their fate!"

Obi-Wan shut his mouth with an audible click, shame and horror at his childlike outburst beginning to seep through the anger. The color drained from his face and he stammered, "I· I'm sorry, Master. I didn't, I mean·"

The com link buzzed, cutting Obi-Wan off and Qui-Gon rose in response, speaking softly. When he turned, the large man seemed oddly defeated.

"Padawan." The Jedi master's voice traveled like ice along Obi-Wan's nerves. "Find something to occupy your time. Contact your friends, sleep, watch a holovid. It doesn't really matter. I must visit Master Yoda and then I have a meeting with Senator Palpatine. We can talk when I return." That harsh, unforgiving visage turned away, not noticing the sorrow Obi-Wan knew must be evident in his eyes.

As the door slid shut behind Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan sank to his knees, trembling.

Qui-Gon hurried down the hallway, heading for Yoda's chambers, uncaring of the fact that his normally serene countenance was drawn into a worried frown. "What the in all the Sith's Hells was that? What's happening to my Obi-Wan?"

For days, Obi-Wan had been growing more and more pale and the Force energies swirled around him in increasingly darkening eddies. Yoda and Master Wlere had insisted that Qui-Gon continue with a training routine that was as close to normal as possible. Qui-Gon had suffered through days of meditating while feeling his padawan's frustrations build. If it had not been for the fact that this was the only real individual contact Obi-Wan and he had, Qui-Gon would have called a stop to it sooner.

Ever since the afternoon when Yoda had contacted him, that horrible moment when he had found his padawan shivering in the icy water, Qui-Gon had not been able to shake the feeling that there was something deeply wrong, something beyond the physical, even beyond the neurological. The rooms had been mangled. It looked as if some giant had grabbed them and shaken them, causing random damage. Yoda had comforted him, reminding the agitated man that the more Obi-Wan worried about being unable to control the Force, the harder the healing would be.

This was not healing, no matter what Wlere said. Qui-Gon could feel the strength of Obi-Wan's light fading, feel the fury building up within him. Obi-Wan didn't seem to want Qui-Gon to touch him, and avoided spending time with him if they were not meditating. Qui-Gon had been patiently waiting for an opportunity to talk with his padawan, to discuss the misunderstandings which had occurred between them, but Obi-Wan had firmly turned him aside, constantly busy or studying or locked in his small room.

Of course, there was also the not inconsiderable problem with the Larquis. The Senators kept avoiding the issues of the invasion, choosing to ask about the presence of the Jedi on the small planet. Qui-Gon found himself spending hours in discussions with these politicians, keeping his promise to M'lss, even though his soul screamed that his padawan was in need.

However, it looked like perhaps they were finally getting somewhere. Senator Palpatine was going to see him and an investigatory committee was being formed. If nothing else, the Jedi Master hoped that committee would stop the spread of atrocities quickly, giving him time to work on a long-term solution.

Yoda was waiting in his quarters, pot of water already steaming in front of him, as Qui-Gon arrived. The peace emanating from the diminutive master soothed the large man's soul. He did not realize how unsettled being with Obi-Wan made him until he met with Yoda. The constant struggle to help balance something that was completely without a center was exhausting.

"Master."

"Padawan. Come, sit. "

Qui-Gon sat next to his oldest friend, the closest thing he knew to family. "My Obi-Wan, he's not· he's not healing. He keeps getting more and more pale; his energies are fluctuating more wildly. I have done all that I know to do, Master. This whole situation is simply resting, stagnant. I've talked to the healers, I've talked to the Council, I've talked to the Senate and nothing is moving fast enough."

"Talked to your padawan, have you?"

"I've tried, Master, but he will not·"

"Try? There is no try, as well you should know. Who the padawan is and who the master? Talk, you must to Obi-Wan. Leaking his anger is, infecting the young ones. Concerns I have heard, grave concerns."

"Concerns? From whom?" Qui-Gon's brows furrowed, the idea that someone was speaking negatively about his padawan anathema to him.

"Not for you is that information, Qui-Gon. Remain at peace you must, or your padawan is lost. Go, speak with him."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Yes, Master." He smiled to himself, thinking of the millions of times those words had passed his lips. "I must meet with the Senator. Tonight I will speak at length to Obi-Wan."

Yoda nodded. "Delay this too long, you cannot. Bring up the Larquis situation to the Council I will." The old master's ears drooped. "Come, Padawan mine, have some cha with me you will before seeing the Senator."

Qui-Gon nodded and bent down to the steaming pot. He mixed the dried leaves into the water, allowing the gestures to comfort him as the spicy scent of the cha filled the room.

To Part 4