Apprentice to Journeyman

by Susan Smithson (charlottechill@yahoo.com)

Archive: Master & Apprentice, others feel free to ask

Category: First Time (drama??)

Rating: NC17, ultimately; otherwise a long, good read <g>

Warnings: none

Spoilers: pre-TPM, no spoilers

Summary: What is it, really, to live and grow as a Jedi? What is it, really, to learn over the course of years what love is?

Feedback: All kinds of comments encouraged and welcomed.

Chapter One - Awakening

Obi-Wan Kenobi was fourteen when puberty struck, lightning-quick, catching him in its maelstrom and ripping through him like the biological storm it was. After barely a year with Master Jinn, he was both frustrated and angry that something like this should take him now. Now, of all times, he groused to himself, tossing on his sleeping couch, completely unable to return to his dreams. The dreams were the problem. Odd and stark, what he remembered of them, they didn't even seem procreative: saber drills, images of swimming with crechemates, his Master's generous smiles-all inspired equally erotic responses from his body, and he hated it. Hunching over onto his side, he curled his knees up and practiced calming breaths. For the third time in as many days he had awakened in the aftermath of such astonishing physical releases that they tore him from his night-visions and dropped him gracelessly, gasping, into his sticky, writhing body. He wasn't even willing to get up for fresh sleeping pants, not at this point. It would likely happen again before the cursed night was over.

He glanced furtively across to his Master's bed, the lights from the City's nearer towers outlining the silent, sleeping bulk of his teacher, wondering... but no. Even though the tapes he'd been given only months ago promised it was true, he simply could not imagine Qui-Gon Jinn ever having suffered something so... well... embarrassing. Why is it embarrassing, Obi-Wan? his Master would ask of him. Almost like a child, was Qui-Gon Jinn, with his infernal and eternal questions why.

Obi-Wan's first and only answer was the lack of control. He'd found that his body would respond anywhere, to anything, regardless of provocation or lack thereof-he was incredibly grateful for the concealment his apprentice robes afforded. Was this why all Jedi wore robes? No, it couldn't be. The lessons would have said, and instead they promised that this was merely a stage of growth, a change from one form to another. The caterpillar moving into the chrysalis, Master Jinn had commented absently. He sighed, punched his headrest in irritation, and stared at the patterned ceiling until sleep took him once more.

A full week passed, with little respite. Master Jinn had taken to smiling indulgently at him, while never invading his privacy. He would have preferred a direct frontal attack on the problem, frankly, and eventually frustration alone drove him to speak first.

They walked through a rooftop courtyard, one of Obi-Wan's favorites, in fact; seventy meters to a side and only a few dozen stories high, it was a verdant, lush intersection between dormitories, indoor training rooms, and the main dining hall adjacent to the west Temple entrance. Walls rose up on all sides, strewn with clinging plants and vines, and paths meandered through at seeming odd angles. His body goading him as they neared the center of the courtyard, he blurted out, "Master, is this stage so for everyone?"

"And what stage is that, Padawan?"

He glanced sidelong at his teacher, relieved at the calm contentment in the deep voice. Even in this short span of months with Master Jinn, he had already learned that the man usually knew the answer to a question before he asked it. "Adolescence. Puberty. This miserable sexual awakening."

"Ahh." Qui-Gon slowed, and gestured to a bench beneath an aging, spreading iquia tree. "And what is 'so' about this stage?"

He sighed, fidgeted for a moment, chewed on the inside of his lip for another. "I feel like a prisoner in my own body. These urges take me at odd moments. They leave me flushed and distracted. I can't control them, but I also have no desire to be, well, intimate with someone." Perish the thought; the girls' squealing annoyed him as much as their silent superiority-and the boys... no, he wasn't interested in touching or being touched yet, no matter what his body suggested.

"Most humanoid species experience something like this, yes," Qui-Gon answered quietly. "Just as a muscle is trained and exercised before it is tested with a partner, so is your sexuality. Your body knows this, and is beginning those exercises. If you aren't yet ready to practice that dance with a partner-and I agree that you're not-you need simply continue with private drills." Qui-Gon's grin seemed conspiratorial enough that he knew he was missing something important, but he wasn't quite ready to ask.

"I'd rather just make it stop," he sulked, crossing his legs under himself. "Can't I do that, instead?"

"Obi-Wan, like so many things, this awakening isn't meant to be controlled. In fact," he smiled down, patting him lightly between the shoulder blades, "it should be enjoyed. Your wakening sexuality is a gift of the Force; accept it, revel in it."

"How?"

The hand slipped away, and Obi-Wan watched as those large hands crept into the sleeves of his master's robes. He looked up, hesitant, but Master Jinn's quiet face only reassured and warmed him. "I suppose sharing my sleeping room has thwarted attempts at self-exploration... Perhaps it's time for you to move into your own chambers," he said gently.

Obi-Wan pondered this. "Master, I'd rather not return to the dormitories. Is there not some other way I can deal with this?"

"You won't be returned to the dormitories, Obi-Wan," Master Jinn was quick to reassure. "I'll submit a transfer request to larger quarters for us both. We'll share reception and work space, and you'll have your own room across from mine. All right?"

He nodded, still troubled. "Master? How exactly does one go about... self exploration?" Masturbation; strange word, really. He found he preferred his teacher's less direct choice, which sounded both more general and more specific. He had developed more than one theory of his own on the activity, but he'd yet to put any into action, assuming in this as in all other things that first he would study, then he would model, and only then would he do. The lessons had been vague about the actual modeling requisites.

Much to his relief, he sensed only amused tolerance from his master. "That's one thing you get to learn for yourself. Read, if you feel you must. If you're really determined I'll locate and recommend a training video or two. But each individual is unique, and a thorough tactile examination of your own body should stand you in good stead." His master paused, and for the first time Obi-Wan sensed mild discomfort from the man. "Your mind may play games with you, Obi-Wan. You may find erotic inspiration in people and things which seemed commonplace before. This is normal as well; if it happens, don't let it trouble you."

He nodded, thinking. Certainly he'd learned the anatomical form; it was early studies for field first aid. Certainly he understood the implication of erotic inspiration in commonplace things; he had found his own master's form terribly distracting in the last weeks, and this sexual response seemed to happen so easily around the man that combat practice had begun to fill him with dread. He shrugged and followed when his master rose from the bench and started walking again. If Master Jinn said this was normal, then it was. If Master Jinn said he could figure it out for himself, then he would.

And so he did.

And he found that private sleeping quarters had their merits, though he wondered if perhaps he wasn't spending too much time in them. Again, his master offered only silence on the subject, and he decided from this that his activities were his own. He caught himself, in moments when he should have been studying his lessons, studying his master's form instead, wondering if Qui-Gon touched himself. Reminiscing on his rising fantasies of what it might be like if Qui-Gon touched him. But, as his teacher had implied, these thoughts were his and his alone, and he did not speak of them.

And so the time passed. His private time remained so, and his studies remained ever-more difficult-physical skills taxed him as he threw himself into dance and gymnastics, philosophies left his brain muddled but oddly refreshed, and species and cultural studies fascinated him endlessly.

The weeks flew by.

They hadn't received an assignment in some time, so when his master interrupted his holochamber studies, he accepted the news eagerly. He had begun to wonder if perhaps the galaxy was settling down; bad time to study to become a Jedi, he mused, if the Republic had no more use for the Order. Happy thoughts, in their way; the Force craved peace even as he knew that chaos was a rule of creation.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master?" he answered, pausing the viewer.

"We've received a new assignment. Study up on Shalsteer, and examine the data on this chip closely," he said, settling the tiny crystal on the side table. "We leave in three days."

"Yes, Master."

"And Obi-Wan. It will be more appropriate for you to leave your solitary pursuits here, on Coruscant," he added softly. "Shalsteer, as you will learn, is home to a very conservative people, and the upper classes have a narrow view of sex and sexuality."

"Yes, Master." Hmm. He wondered what the absence of his new hobby would be like, and cocked his head, trying to remember the last night he'd fallen asleep without its aid. Qui-Gon still hovered near. "Master? Was there something more?"

Master Jinn pursed his lips, then puffed out a breath of air. "I think you may have been unaware of certain new behaviors, Obi-Wan, and I hesitate to point them out to you. Unfortunately, you must be made aware of them so that you may curb them."

"New behaviors?" he asked, confused.

A hand settled gently on his spiky hair, petting briefly, and Qui-Gon smiled. "You touch me, Padawan. Quite often. And your eyes linger on my body far longer than Shalstii custom will abide. Have you not noticed the occasional brushings, your hand on my arm, your fingers testing the weight of my hair when you braid it? Have you not recollected these moments at other times?"

Obi-Wan felt himself flushing crimson, wondered anew at this embarrassment that swept him. Qui-Gon had said he was normal, that this was common. Certainly he'd whispered to more than one apprentice of his age group about the surpassing beauty of his master, and been met with somber nods and eager, pride-filled comparisons to their own teachers. Apparently many students felt their own teachers by far superior in beauty and grace. Again, it must be the issue of control. That he was doing things of which he was completely unaware, but which an entire people would identify and judge... it frightened him.

"I..." he felt as if he'd stolen something not his own. "I am deeply sorry, Master."

"Well you're wasting your energy, then," Qui-Gon replied airily. "You have nothing to be sorry for. One day you'll understand that yours is a compliment, sweet and naive, yet of incomparable value. It honors me. Don't worry about it." Qui-Gon shrugged, and sighed, somehow conveying his tolerance for the backwards ways of peoples. "Be aware of it, though, and curb it, for now. Yes?"

"But-" He felt the flush darken, was flustered by these sweeping new feelings. Impulsively he reached for his master, seeing his own smaller hand caught up by the darker, bigger, adult flesh. He permitted himself to be distracted by that contrast only for a moment, then looked up to meet his teacher's eyes. "If I am unaware of my actions..."

"Hush, Padawan," Qui-Gon chided. "You're aware now, and you're a very smart boy. Every individual is unique; you know this. Observe others, and see what they do that they do not know. Therein lies your lesson."

"Yes, Master," he said, nodding his head unhappily. He sighed. Trained nearly from birth, knowing no other life, he still boggled at how very much there was to learn.

The Shalstii were a provincial people, indeed. Covered from crown to heel, wearing veils across their faces and long gloves, every inch of skin save a two-inch band across their eyes was covered. They peered with something akin to shock at his own bare hands and his master's. As he walked beside Master Jinn from the docking bay, following their escort in silence, he peered surreptitiously around himself, wondering if they knew what their actions revealed. He thought not, for they were diplomats as well. More, he sensed a naivete; certainly they had seen Jedi before, and knew that Jedi deeply respected cultural mores even as they rarely adopted them. Out of respect, he drew up his cowl and slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe, receiving a warm look from Master Jinn that crinkled all the way to the corners of his blue, blue eyes.

Pursing his lips, he recaptured his wandering mind and set the subject aside for later conversation as they approached the huge stone arches overhanging the palace gates. It was a beautiful planet, really; semi-arid desert air swept over the earth of which there was much to see: gnarled trees, carpets of white, flowering grass, and buildings that meshed with the landscape rising mountainous in the near distance. The palace itself was cut from stone of the Landier mountains, his studies had told him. Yellowed by sulfur, the stone reflected light like a mirror, tiny glints and bright washes that tickled and drew the eye. Only a few stories tall, placed on the earth like a cut jewel in its setting, it radiated and sparked, visible for miles. He smiled in his mind as they passed through the arches and onto the footpath through the gardens. Provincial they may be, they still had a fine respect for first impressions. What little of the surface he had seen during their descent convinced him that this place was built to inspire and impress. There were no buildings more yellow nor more bright, no domes more polished, no gardens more beautiful.

Their escort left them in the marbled foyer, handing them off to a lone woman he recognized from the Senate, though even her eyes were covered by a sheer gauze screen.

"Master Jinn, Apprentice Kenobi," she said formally, nodding to each in turn. "I am Shalar Zai, undersecretary to Senator Morae. We welcome you to the Regent's palace. Let me escort you to your rooms."

"We thank you, Undersecretary Zai," Master Jinn answered for them both. "It has been a long journey." Obi-Wan, for his part, was flattered to be included in the welcome, and offered a brief smile.

Her eyes, behind her veil, smiled before she returned her gaze to Master Jinn. "Yes, of course. This way, please. A servant has been placed at your disposal; you may call on him at any time."

"Again, we thank you."

Their rooms were spacious and gilded, ornamentation trimmed with leaf in gold and platinum, and Obi-Wan felt his eyes widen in surprise. In their few travels he had yet to see appointments so rich afforded to the Jedi. He glanced sidelong at his master, wondering again at how able a man had taken him as apprentice.

"Don't be too impressed, Obi-Wan; these rooms were designed for just that."

"Why so, Master?"

"To put us at our ease." He shrugged. "To lull visitors with honors regardless of those visitors' merits. Self-importance and hubris make one blind to all but what others wish one to see. Remember that well." His arm swept around, encompassing the spacious quarters. "Enjoy them, but," he smiled, "don't take them personally."

"Yes, Master. But... why would a people waste such efforts on us? We're merely witnesses to the coronation, eyes of the Senate."

"Indeed, Obi-Wan... why?"

Shash. The 'why' game again. "Well," he pondered, peering about himself, "perhaps they wish to afford the Jedi an honor?"

"Perhaps. Again, why?"

"They're new to the Republic," he speculated, for the first time catching a glimpse through billowing curtains at their view; the palace proper stood fifty yards distant, eclipsing the sun even as it glinted and cast its own lights. "Perhaps... perhaps we intimidate them, and they hope this show of wealth will intimidate us in return."

Master Jinn's lips compressed as he nodded sagely. "Perhaps. Again, why?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Perhaps they simply know no better... or they wish to record our conversations and so have hidden all manner of observation devices in these trappings... or they wish to lull us into a sense of false security and then lop off our heads whilst we sleep-"

Qui-Gon raised a hand. "Enough!" he chuckled, shaking his head. "A fountain of possibilities, young Padawan. You're certainly correct about that. And the only mistake would be to accept this at face value as if it could only be one thing. So," he rumbled on, finally opening his outer robe and shrugging it off broad shoulders, "learn if you can what answer might best reflect the reality of our situation, and share it with me when we leave this place."

"Yes, Master." Study, he sighed inwardly, always study. He started settling them in, to give himself something else to do. Peering through various doors leading off the reception room, he found a master bedroom and a smaller sleeproom off that, which he took for his own, and unpacked his clothes. Then he went in search of his Master's bags and did the same for him.

He felt the presence while he was still in the closet, hanging Master Jinn's formal robes. He turned, found a wry smile on his master's face where he lounged in the doorway. The Jedi stood so tall, his bulk taking up much of the entry, one shoulder propped carelessly against the frame, his arms crossed across a chest so vast... he caught himself, then caught himself flushing, and dropped his eyes.

"Will you never tire of waiting on me, Padawan?" his master asked, letting his slip pass.

And while he knew he was being gently teased, as was his master's wont, he answered, "My contract encourages me to ease your way, Master, as your teachings ease my way to the Force. These small tasks are nothing by comparison."

"You know," Qui-Gon replied, turning back to the main room as he spoke, "I think you take your contract just a bit too seriously."

Hardly, he thought. He wasn't sure that was even possible. Qui-Gon Jinn was among the very most accomplished of Jedi Knights; almost everyone agreed with that. In being accepted as student, Obi-Wan had received a gift he could never, ever repay.

An image of his master swimming in an exercise fountain on Coruscant, long arms cleaving the water as Obi-Wan was taught a new stroke, rose to his mind, and with it this new frission of tension in his skin; he squelched it ruthlessly, remembering his teacher's words. Now was neither the time nor the place for such indulgence. There would be time, later, after they'd left this planet behind. He stored away the image for future contemplation, and turned back to his work.

He decided, after days on days of attendance to pomp and speeches, that this would have been an incredibly boring mission without his master at his side. The Regent, Lon Abitar, had just reached her 20th year. Her ascendance to the throne was merely formality, as was her position. The royalty held dignitary duties on this planet, mainly: opening congress, attending events of state, and keeping a social calendar meant to assure and inspire the people. But the people loved her, which served this planet well. She was demure and wise, he found on his brief occasion to speak with her-and beautiful, he noted in afterthought. Her robes swung about a full body, golden threads in every gown she wore marking the passage of her form with light. He repressed that thought as well, sneaking a peek at Master Jinn. His master, if he noted such things, did not show it, and so neither should he. As he continued to study this planet during his morning readings, he learned what an insult indeed it would be to make such observation openly, and sighed.

His nights, blessedly, were without vivid dreams, and when they finally departed the planet a tenday after their arrival, he was rather proud of himself. His masater was, also.

"You did well, Obi-Wan," Master Jinn commented heartily, as they exited the palace gates. A waiting ground car stood open for them; apparently one was only required to be impressed on his way in to this place.

"Thank you, Master."

A brief chuckle caressed his ears. "Not a single misstep, young Padawan; the new queen was quite impressed.

He raised his brows, surprised. "Excuse me?" The ground car hovered up and accelerated fast, swallowing the distance from palace to spaceport with all good speed.

Master Jinn nodded. "She was, indeed. She thought you an excellent student, and a very bright young man, and told me so with all due formality last night at the afterdinner reception."

Ah. He had been ordered back to their rooms after each evening meal, and festivities had continued "without the presence of children." It rankled, just a bit, to still be treated as a child when his teachings told him he was becoming a man, but far be it from him to ignore the mores of an entire civilization. "I am happy to have pleased her." In afterthought he added, "I liked her as well."

"Yes, I noticed." Was that an undertone of humor in the dry voice?

"Master, I-"

"Don't concern yourself. She is a beautiful young woman, and your observation went unnoticed. I, however, am especially observant of my student."

"You're prettier," he said, smiling sunnily when Master Jinn's eyebrows swept up in surprise.

"And you, lad, have a common case of hero worship. I prescribe an additional two hours of daily study for you, and far more difficult physical drills; that should cure you of it."

Obi-Wan didn't worry; more work meant more time with his master, and besides, he had no wish to be cured of it. Qui-Gon Jinn appealed to him in all ways, from gentle humor to surpassing skill, from complex spirit to well-honed body. Perhaps especially to well-honed body, he surmised, finding himself staring too long-and they hadn't even reached the spaceport! Where was his precious control, now? Resolutely, he set his eyes front and drew deep, even breaths until they were deposited with thanks at the docks, dropped just outside the port at Master Jinn's request.

Only when they were truly alone, walking along a bustling street, did Master Jinn begin his post-mission review. "You remember my question about our well-appointed rooms, Obi-Wan?" he asked, tucking his hands into his robe's sleeves.

Obi-Wan mimicked his movement, and nodded. "Yes, Master."

"And what is your conclusion?"

"That as new members of the Republic, they feared political misstep. They erred on the side of generosity rather than risk insulting us."

"An acceptable hypothesis. Why?"

Obi-Wan struggled to weigh his reasons, most of which weren't intellectual and therefore were difficult to explain. "They were... timid with us, yet not with each other. They did not seem to have a clear sense of their place, as equal members of the Republic. Their manners were consistent, what I saw of them, and never did I sense disdain. I..." he gave up, and ended with, "I just had a feeling."

"Excellent, Obi-Wan. Trust in your intuition. It will always serve you well."

"Was my conclusion correct?"

Master Jinn shrugged. "Does it matter?"

No, he supposed not... but he still wanted to know. He kept his mouth shut, waiting patiently until his master sighed.

"It was a good evaluation of all the factors available to you. As it happens, you were missing information. I have sensed some trouble here, rumblings between the controlling classes and the service classes, that the rich hope their queen's presence will quiet. I believe they did indeed fear risking our offense, as you said, but more, they will seek our favor and support in case conflict breaks out."

"Ah," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound studious as he took in the sights of this bustling public port. It was more ordered than most, and smaller, perhaps because it was so near the palace. Only a few species populated it, and the throngs around them were fully 3/4 natives. He sighed; he had seen cleaner ports and he had certainly seen dirtier ones. By the time they reached the ship he had put the matter out of his mind, aching to be off-planet and in his own, private, cabin. Once onboard, he stowed their gear, adjusted his chronometer to ship's time, noted happily that it was well into night-cycle, and bade his master a good rest. Then he tore off to his own cabin, recalled that image of Master Jinn swimming, explored himself to exhaustion and, eventually, slept.

Chapter Two - Time advances

By the time Obi-Wan was sixteen, he had learned most of the dances that could be mastered by a Force-enhanced biped. It was late spring on Coruscant, or so the flowers in the garden declared; their blooms overwhelmed the space with a heady abundance of color and scent, and the gardens seemed almost crowded with people. From eldest master to youngest Padawan, the place fairly bustled with quiet activity. This afternoon, Obi-Wan took his turn there as well while Qui-Gon attended a meeting of master-teachers. Busy cataloguing the scent of every new flower, comparing it to scents in his mind from years past, and feeling one with this place, it took him a moment to sense Challi Viswan silently seeking his attention.

"Hello Challi," he whispered, loathe to disturb the bustling quiet around them.

"Obi-Wan," she whispered back. She radiated excitement in palpable waves, and he smiled; she was as pretty, in her way, as the flowers that surrounded them. "I'm looking forward to the recital this evening."

"Me too." These were parties, really, thrown every spring and greeted with pleasure by most Padawans. These were opportunities to exercise their dancing skills, laugh, eat, gossip, and bask in the attention of their teachers, most of whom would be in attendance and lining the Great Hall's walls. Master Jinn had already promised his presence, and had shaken his head with amused acceptance when Obi-Wan fairly beamed.

"I'd like to spend some time together, after."

He felt a tremor of unease and turned his attention to it, recognizing its cause immediately. Challi liked him a great deal, as he did her, and more, she found him attractive. He knew she wanted to lie with him, and while his body agreed eagerly with this concept, his heart held him back; he had come to see only Master Jinn with such eyes, and, private experimentation aside, he felt he would betray himself by accepting her offer.

"I..."

She was strong in the Force. He felt her excitement dampen somewhat, and she dropped to her knees in the grass. "I had thought..." looking up through her lashes, adorably shy, she ventured, "I had thought you found me interesting, and appealing."

"I do," he said sincerely. "But I fear my heart belongs to another."

Her eyes lit up; Challi loved gossip, was often his first source for information about the lesser goings-on at Temple. "Who?!"

Measuring his desire to share against his continued sense that such things should be private, he hesitated. But Challi was insightful, as well. "Oh, Obi-Wan," she groaned, and stretched back, propping her weight on her hands. "Not Master Jinn!"

He couldn't stop the blush at her words. "I..."

"You're wasting your time. Rumor has it he hasn't lain with anyone in years upon years. I doubt he'd remember how, even if he was interested. Which I doubt," she added dryly.

"I'm pretty enough for you, aren't I?" he snapped, defensive without quite knowing why.

"Yes," she answered reasonably, "but you and I are friends who find each other attractive in this way. And I am not a fifty year old Jedi master whose vein with the Force runs so deep I've likely forgotten such trivialities as personal pleasure. Besides, you should be intimate with others; it will get you through this infatuation you have with your master."

He couldn't quite follow her logic, but he appreciated her candor immensely. He sprawled down beside her, matching her pose in the grass. "I don't think Master Jinn has forgotten personal pleasure. He delights in small things, Challi. He is filled with joy and serenity and-" beside him, she made a retching sound. "Challi," he said sternly, "I love him."

"Just as I desired my own master," she replied, nodding vigorously. Her dark blonde braid whipped over her shoulder and snagged in her robe's hem. "Master Yakkir is handsome, in command of himself, and young in his heart. But Obi-Wan, he does not desire me. And even if he did, I suspect he wouldn't tell me. He is my teacher first and last, and I've since learned that I would never want to confuse that role with another." She shrugged, then grinned. "Once I'd lain with someone else, I found that my desire for him diminished." She giggled. "After I lay with still another, it diminished even more. I expect this is the natural course of things."

"But I want to wait, and hope-"

"And beat your head against that mountainous wall named Qui-Gon Jinn?" She harrumphed. "You're smarter than that." She laid a hand on his arm, tentative. "Obi-Wan, if your feelings run true then you'll keep them regardless of what you do. Denying yourself the pleasure of intimacy seems..." she paused, frowned, "misguided."

"I prefer to wait for love, and combine that intimacy with it. I don't want casual entertainments."

"Why not? That's like saying you should never enjoy igniting your lightsaber unless you're fighting for your life!"

A startled quiver streaked along his nerves; he hadn't thought of it that way before. "Challi," he finally decided aloud, "you are a very good friend."

"But you're not going to play with me tonight." She had the grace to curb her disappointment.

"No. Perhaps another night..."

"Well, Obi-Wan, my love-stricken friend, you have my contact code and you know where to find me." She rose, a supple undulation that seemed, as always, to defy gravity; he wished he could mimic it. "I'm off. I actually bought a suit for tonight, and I have to fetch it from A Level's."

"How did you get the money to shop at A Level's?" he asked, shocked.

She smirked. "I bartered for it."

Obi-Wan shook his head; A Level's was a prestigious couture store that served the interplanetary hangers-on of the Senate. She'd bartered a lot for whatever it was.

Later that evening, Obi-Wan, dressed in pristine white trousers, tunic and boots, strode through the door of the great hall. He didn't want Challi to outshine him entirely, after all. The music was already playing when he arrived, and he was greeted by several laughing, swirling friends as he wove his way across the dance floor. He had thought he was looking for Challi until he laid eyes on his master; Qui-Gon stood tall and proud and serene, talking quietly with Master Windu in the corner near the punch bowls. The sight, from wide-legged stance to elaborating hands to strong, square shoulders, made his heart crash like a wave against his ribs, his mouth go dry. At that moment, a hand slid around his waist from behind; Challi had arrived.

"Obi-Wan! You look delicious!"

He turned, and did a double-take at her attire: irridescent gold leggings hugged her muscled curves from toe to ribs, her breasts and shoulders covered by the most alluring of flowing fabrics that, while opaque, seemed to reveal even more for being so. Her braid was draped around her throat and held like a choker beneath her right ear. The effect was breathtaking, and he briefly reconsidered his earlier decision as his body warmed to the sight. "And you," he breathed, shocked at himself and his reaction.

She dimpled. "Thank you. Come on, I want to dance and dance and dance!"

"A moment, if you please." He glanced briefly toward his master, who had by this time noticed his arrival.

Challi rolled her eyes. "You're wasting your energy-and precious opportunities, my friend!" But her giggle spoiled the warning. "Two minutes, yes? That's all you get before we dance."

"As you wish." He smiled and bowed low before turning toward his teacher.

Master Jinn had seen him, and his body flushed warmly as he noted that the man observed his approach. "Obi-Wan," he greeted, his austerity tempered by what seemed to be an honestly good mood.

"Master Jinn, Master Windu." He bowed slightly.

Windu surprised him by speaking warmly. "Why aren't you dancing already, Obi-Wan? I remember last year when you were the first to arrive and the last to leave; by the Force, I wondered where you found your energy."

"By the Force, sir," he joked, turning when his master chuckled. "Master, if you please... I request the honor of a dance or two this evening."

Master Jinn's face did not change, but he noted peripherally that Windu looked on with interest. "I would be honored indeed, Obi-Wan; I'll seek you out after you've dented your enthusiasm a bit."

"Masters." He bowed again, fairly bursting with pleasure, and went to find his partner for the evening.

And dance, he did: waltzes and forms, modern and classical, as the music and their moods demanded. Challi was a wonderful partner, and the dances she led made him feel as light as air. It was at least an hour into the evening when he felt his master's approach, with some internal awareness that scanned constantly for the presence of the man. He flushed and Challi, in his arms, snickered. "Your dream is not twenty feet away and closing quickly," she teased.

"He promised me a dance."

"Then by all means," she said, slowing them both, "let the fantasy continue!"

"Challi Viswan, you are meddlesome and cruel and all manner of unspeakably low things," he hissed.

"Oh, absolutely. If I haven't found another temporary partner, I'll be on the grand balcony; come and find me when the drama is over."

By that time, his master was near enough that he could not reply; the imp always seemed to get the last word. "Obi-Wan, Padawan Viswan," he addressed her formally. "That is a lovely suit, young lady; I daresay you have caught the attention of many."

She offered Obi-Wan a pointed glance, and smiled charmingly at Master Jinn. "You flatter me, sir."

"As you flatter us all with your effervescence. I've watched the two of you; you're an excellent dance pair."

"Thank you, Master Jinn. I'm glad Master Jakkir recommended us for tonight."

"As are all observers. The pair of you are striking in look and deed."

Obi-Wan grinned at Challi and stuck out his tongue. See? he wanted to say, he's as charming as a Barrayaran button-mouse.

"Again, I thank you," she replied, truly pleased. A young couple swinging wide on a turn brushed close enough to stir the fabric of her suit. "I understand you wish to borrow Obi-Wan for a dance or two; perhaps I should leave you to it before the children bowl us all over."

Qui-Gon laughed, a genuine rumble that sparked electricity along Obi-Wan's nerves. "Yes, miss, I believe you're right. Thank you for the loan."

"Thank you, Master Jinn, for the respite." With that polite hand-off, she took her leave.

Obi-Wan turned to his master, flushed with pleasure. "You lead."

Qui-Gon nodded and took two steps closer, raising his hands to mirror Obi-Wan's. and they slid seamlessly into the music. As wonderful a partner as Challi was, she paled to nothingness when compared to Master Jinn. It wasn't just that his steps were more proficient, or even that his leading felt so much like their work in the practice squares; it was that Obi-Wan knew himself to be deeply in love, and it was an effort of will to keep from staring only and forever into those smiling blue eyes. Windows to the soul, the eyes were called, and while that wasn't strictly true he read the contented indulgence in his master's eyes all too well. The warm look wasn't patronizing, thank the Force... nor was it reciprocal. He sighed, giving himself over only to the moment, and when the music changed and Master Jinn slid his arm lightly around Obi-Wan's waist, Obi-Wan practically wriggled with pleasure.

"Is that a new move that the young people have invented?" his master asked, feigning ignorance, Obi-Wan supposed.

"Oh, yes, Master," he answered with a sigh. "If not for all the young people, certainly for me, when you hold me thus." His master's slight stiffening didn't escape his notice, and his next sigh wasn't so happy. "I'm sorry, Master. I meant no offense."

"And none was taken, Padawan. I am merely at a loss as to how to respond."

Obi-Wan could think of a number of responses that he would appreciate to no end, but he held his tongue. His master had not forgotten such things, no matter what Challi's gossip circle insinuated. He waited, swinging with the moves of the waltz, feeling the heat of his master's shoulder where his palm rested lightly. Much of his attention was split between that small contact and the feel of Master Jinn's arm at his waist, the large, warm hand that lightly rested at the small of his back. He waited for his master to gather what thoughts he would, and concentrated on enjoying the moment.

Finally, his teacher spoke, his tone as serious and somber as any lecture on Light and Dark, on life and death. "I am enriched by your feelings, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly. "But they are feelings I must not return."

"Must not?" he asked hopefully, "or do not?"

"Both. I am your teacher, your mentor; the responsibility you and I have taken on together is profound, and I would not permit myself to succumb to such a feeling for you."

The concept confused him; how could one deny a feeling? Ignore it, yes; work through it, possibly; but deny it? He'd had no such luck with his growing love for his teacher. "Permit?" he pondered, twirling at the slight rising of Master Jinn's palm. "Love isn't something one can control, is it?"

Master Jinn sighed as he replaced his palm at Obi-Wan's back. "Many things can and should be controlled, Obi-Wan. Love... I won't say it's an easy emotion to master, but it can be done, and you may want to focus your attention on the task."

"But why must that be so? The greatest writings of love suggest a clarity, not clouds; they speak of two hearts burning true, beating in time..."

"As our two hearts do not. Mine must lead you, now and for some years to come." Master Jinn sighed as the music rose to its final crescendo, and whirled them toward the edge of the dance floor before finally dropping his hands. "I sympathize deeply with your feelings, and with the difficulties they will bring you; unrequited love is by its nature a painful thing. I wish it could be otherwise for you."

It could be, his young heart insisted, but he knew better than to argue with his master in public. So he smiled again, absorbing the pain his teacher's empathy evoked. "As do I," he murmured. "So I'll settle for more dances, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled. "You're playing with fire, lad."

"I'm not," he denied. "I know what I want, and if I can't have it then at least I can satisfy myself with your company. So we'll dance again this evening?"

"This night and other nights, Obi-Wan," his master said with all the affection Obi-Wan knew the man held for him. "But know that in this my mind cannot be changed."

"Yes, Master."

The calm pronunciation dampened his enjoyment of the evening, but he accepted it as truth, and truth must never be disregarded. Challi, when he found her, was swirling on the dance floor with Hartmal Keene, an apprentice two years Obi-Wan's senior. They made a pretty couple, and he wondered if he should leave her to him in case she wanted a bed partner for the evening. But the next dance ended and, cheeks flushed with the joy of movement, she glided back to him. "The two of you were beautiful, Obi-Wan," she said without preamble.

"I thank you, Challi. But it was merely a dance."

"You proclaimed your feelings, then?"

He frowned, feeling a creeping depression try to take him. "Yes."

"And...?"

"And he said it was not to be, that the relationship between master and padawan must not be distorted by affairs of the heart."

Her face showed true compassion, and somehow that alleviated the worst of his pain. "That's much what Master Jakkir told me, when I suggested further intimacies. Of course, I was fourteen at the time." She grinned, looking that age even now, before sobering. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. Though I still have no idea what you continue to see in him-well, other than the obvious," she smiled gracefully, "I wish you only happiness." She took his hand and led him onto the floor as a spritely tune began, and they lost themselves in the music and the laughter for what must have been hours.

Much later in the evening, after the crowd had thinned a bit-the younger apprentices either fading from youthful exhaustion or being herded off by their wiser masters-Obi-Wan bade his leave of Challi once more. "I want one more dance with him," he said, feeling stubborn and selfish and still hopeful, for all his master's honest words. He leaned in close to her. "Ask the orchestra for the dance of faces," he whispered.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "It won't help matters."

"You're right; I know that. But if I can't share in his body as I wish, I can maneuver one simple kiss, can't I? Is that seeking too much?"

"Only your conscience can tell you that."

He thought for a moment, relieved when his conscience agreed heartily that it was a wonderful idea, and bounced on the balls of his feet. "It seems my conscience is in league with my heart. Make them play it, Challi."

"As you wish, my friend."

He approached his master while the band still played the waltz, noting out of the corner of his eye that Challi was indeed approaching the bandmistress. She would do this for him even if it required bribery, he knew-and he would be grateful, even when he had to make good on the bribe.

Master Jinn had seated himself along the wall and held a cup of fruit nectar in a simple plastic goblet. Master Yoda had made an appearance, and the two spoke quietly together. "Master?" he murmured, intruding carefully.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Our last dance for the evening?"

Yoda's ears quirked unmistakeably. "Impetuous Padawan you are, and stubborn," he said, but there seemed no true censure in the elder's voice. "Dance with playmates your own age, you should."

"As I have, Master Yoda, for most of the evening." He was fairly bursting with energy, and he knew the old master wasn't terribly serious; many Padawans danced at least once with their masters at formal gatherings.

Qui-Gon reached out a stilling hand, and Master Yoda, amazingly, kept his counsel. "As you wish, Padawan." He set his cup on a side table and rose, and again Obi-Wan was struck by the sheer bulk and majesty of the man. As they walked together to the dance floor, the waltz ended and the dance of faces began. Silently he thanked Challi even as his master offered a frown. "Was this your doing?"

"Perhaps, Master," he whispered; suddenly the room seemed low on air. His voice felt faint and dry in his throat, and it was only his growing control that kept Force-whispers of joy from radiating through him and bouncing about the hall.

"Obi-Wan," Master Jinn began, then paused.

"Yes, Master?"

But the man only sighed, and held out his arms. "You will learn in time that having a small part of what you want is often more painful than having none of it at all. You may lead."

His heart thudded in his chest; the leader of this dance decided most of its terms, and so it was with some effort that he controlled the rampant anticipation of his body. "I thank you, Master."

"Later, you probably won't." His voice was foreboding, but Obi-Wan would not be deterred. He placed his hands at his master's elbows and stepped forward until their bodies very nearly touched, observing with some excitement as the remaining couples did the same. Males brushed with males, males with females, and females together, and the sensuality of the movements was thick in the air. He could tell, merely from watching this dance, who would couple later this evening and who would not, and while he knew in his head that he and his master were in the latter group, there was nothing wrong with pretending, at least for the next ten minutes.

The dance of faces was erotic indeed. Obi-Wan remembered when he had first learned its nuances, in a class with Master Wadlen. His body had responded in all manner of joyful ways, but the mistress of this dance had been politic, and held her tongue. He supposed it was normal.

Their right hipbones brushed, and Obi-Wan felt the telltale heat in his groin, reveled in it. Their chests pressed briefly together and Obi-Wan could feel his master's heartbeat through flesh and cloth. Their palms, pressed together like lovers, were becoming damp, and Obi-Wan knew it was his own body's response, and cared not at all. He had to lean up, and Qui-Gon down, for them to brush cheeks as the moves required, and the coarse beard sent an arrow of passion straight to his belly. Foreheads, noses, and finally lips came together as the dance continued, as Qui-Gon held to formality and followed Obi-Wan's lead with quiet grace. Obi-Wan wasn't faring quite so well, but he was thankful indeed for his master's indulgence as he slid his right arm up Qui-Gon's left, cupping the strong neck gently. Its heat fairly sizzled against his sensitized palm, and he drew in a ragged breath. As the music reached its crescendo, he leaned up once more... and parted his lips. Qui-Gon froze before him, his closed mouth millimeters from Obi-Wan's own, but after that brief hesitation Obi-Wan felt the sigh of expelled breath against his lips, warm and moist and smelling of his master, before that last distance closed between them.

He had yet to kiss another, and this pressing of mouth to mouth was electrifying. As leader, it was his choice to set the tone, and eagerly he pressed his tongue inside, met his teacher's which responded in kind. Appropriately, Obi-Wan knew, following as the leader directed. As the dance demanded. The saliva-slick muscle touched his, and abruptly he feared he would find release right here on the dance floor with almost two hundred dancers around them.

He didn't care.

Deepening the kiss, he heard his own groan, felt Qui-Gon's big hands move to his shoulders and hold him carefully, neither pushing him away nor letting him move closer... not strictly permitted by the follower, but he respected the gesture in spite of his own aching member and his own burning need. He would not dishonor his teacher by humping against him like an animal on heat when obviously being held at bay, no matter how much he wished to do so. Amazing, really, that he could skim so close to ecstasy fully clothed in a room full of people.

The music faded, and it was Master Jinn who drew away, a stern and somehow saddened look in his eyes. "Was it as you wished, my Padawan?" he asked, his tone distant and formal.

"All that and more, my Master."

His master sighed, and stepped away, gesturing him to follow back to the chairs.

Master Yoda waited, his eyelids wrinkled with attention. "Impetuous young man you are," he scolded. "As stubborn as your master."

"Yes, Master Yoda," he said by rote, his body still flushed with desire.

"And you, Qui-Gon Jinn? What say you?"

"I'll survive, Master," he said quietly. "This was Obi-Wan's dance; he is sixteen years young, and free to choose his own course."

"To a point, Padawan Kenobi," Yoda scolded once more. "Only to a point. Dishonor not your master, nor your own feelings for him."

He flushed, from excitement or discomfort, he couldn't say. "Never, Master Yoda!"

"Difficult are matters of the heart. If you love another enough, increase his own difficulties you will not."

Startled, Obi-Wan looked to his master, but the man was studying the dance floor with sober eyes that revealed nothing. "Yes, Master Yoda. I thank you for your instruction." Had he taken advantage? He did not believe so; the dance of faces, while not often played, had been taught him along with all the others, and was permissible here or the orchestra would never have performed it. Boldly he added, "But my master can take care of himself."

Yoda, the old soul, merely snorted. "Hmmm, ahh. Now shoo. Go!" Obi-Wan deftly avoided the old master's stick. "Abandoned your assigned partner, you have. Go to her now and bother us no more."

"As you wish, Master Yoda. Thank you for the dance, Master Jinn," he added, seeking his beloved's eyes.

When they found his, they were still cool, distant. "Of course, Padawan."

He extended his senses as he walked away, filtering sounds until he heard only the two voices behind him. "A challenge, he is," Yoda complained. Always complaining, was Yoda.

"Yes," Jinn sighed, "he always has been."

"Filled with youthful fire."

"Yes, Yoda." Pacifying.

"And you, Qui-Gon. A challenge you are meeting?"

Master Jinn's "Of course, Master," sounded faintly surprised.

"His light is housed in a form that well reflects it."

"Yes," and the voice was a bit warmer, now, "he is beautiful."

"He is a child."

"Yes. And he is becoming an adult. He has seen sixteen years, he has the right to choose his own heart... and suffer the consequences." The melancholy tone in his master's voice startled him, bringing with it a tinge of fear.

"Hmmm, yes, consequences," Master Yoda replied. "Perhaps for you both."

"Don't overstep your bounds, Yoda." Admonishing-it always amazed Obi-Wan when his master admonished Master Yoda. "You know my heart in this matter better than any being. Obi-Wan is my padawan, and my responsibility, and I never forget that. Never."

"Hrmpph. Insolent as ever. Overstep my bounds, pah! Step where I like, I will. Step where the Force guides my feet, I will."

"Yes, Yoda." Again placating, and Obi-Wan grinned in awe.

A whack followed that could only be Master Yoda's stick against flesh. "Heed me in this. Young Kenobi thinks he knows his heart. Thinks he knows yours. Rebellious, he is. This pairing may serve him not."

Qui-Gon snorted with laughter, and Obi-Wan felt warmed by the instant defense. "And I thought you said he'd learn to conform by having me as a counter-example."

"Ahhmmm, yes, said it I did. Insolent, the pair of you. Deserve each other as teacher and student, you do. Even now, seeking praise and false hope, he listens to us."

Obi-Wan jerked physically, and let his senses fade to normal. The din of the great hall swallowed up their voices, and he blushed with embarrassment. Shash, but Master Yoda was sensitive! Well that should have been obvious enough, he chided himself. Doubtless Master Jinn would have a lecture prepared on the inappropriateness of selfish eavesdropping... but Master Jinn had called him beautiful, and for that knowledge, the lecture would be worth it. He was once again filled with joy; his heart swelled at his master's pride, and his body felt weak with relief that he had not overstepped his bounds. And his lips... they still tingled faintly from the press of Qui-Gon's. He felt saliva building inside his mouth, but he was loathe to swallow; the faint taste of his master was there, and he wanted to savor it for as long as possible.

"You're hopeless, you know." Challi's voice at his side startled him.

"Where did you come from?" he blurted.

"I could have roared up on a speeder and you wouldn't have noticed. That was quite a show."

"You didn't dance the dance?"

"With whom? My partner of choice was out there rubbing against his teacher, leaving me to decorate the banquet table and eat."

Instantly contrite, Obi-Wan said, "I'm sorry to have left you this evening, Challi. Please forgive me."

But she smiled, her wisdom shining through blue eyes that were very nearly the same color as his master's. "There's nothing to forgive; you're smitten, all right." Then her smile turned impish. "Was it worth it?"

He licked his lips, again savoring the phantom press of his master's mouth to his own, and grinned. "Oh, yes. Definitely."

"Then I'm glad for you. Come along, Obi-Wan, we have an hour left until lights-down, and I for one want to dance the entire time!"

An hour later, as the lights began to dim and the orchestra began packing their instruments, he felt again the brush of Challi's hand on his arm. "You could still come back to my quarters with me, you know."

As close as they were, he still had no desire to do so. He found himself glancing sidelong at the empty space his master had occupied until a half-hour ago, and knew what his answer must be. "I can't. I... you deserve better than a distracted bed partner whose mind would be with someone else."

She shrugged, considered. "You're right about that." Then she sighed. "When you move past this, Obi-Wan, call on me. It would please me to no end to share your first intimate pleasures-but only if you'll be with me. As the friend you are. You understand?"

He understood perfectly. "I may do that, Challi," he smiled, and took his leave.

When Obi-Wan returned to their quarters, he found his master sprawled along the sofa, reading Republic Today on an antigrav viewer and sipping tea. Unbidden, a happy smile crossed his face.

Without glancing up his master said, "I had hoped you'd find a way to enjoy the rest of the night, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan, for one, was done with skirting the issue. "Did you ask Master Jakkir to pair me with Challi?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon set down his tea cup and rolled to a sitting position.

"Because you sensed that she wanted me?"

"Yes."

The honest admission disappointed him immeasurably. "I thought my sexuality was my own affair. Private."

"It is as private as any part of a padawan's life can be. Until you make it public. And you certainly managed that this evening."

"I did nothing wrong!" He was sure of it, even as he checked himself at every step, wondering what he didn't see.

Master Jinn sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Wrong, no. Public, very. When you look upon me with such open adoration, you set a poor example for other learners."

"Are you telling me I've behaved inappropriately?" He was deeply shocked, if truth be told; he had been mindful, ever since his master's comments two years previous, of what his body and actions said to the world, and he was certain he had committed no error.

"For a young man in love? Of course not. But that isn't all you are. For a padawan... not yet," Master Jinn replied carefully. "You came very close, though. Your desire, and the manipulation it led you to, was there for all too see."

"But the dance of faces-"

"Was a convenient excuse to indulge your fantasies. Nothing more." His master's eyes pierced him, seemed to look directly into his soul. "Can you say otherwise? Can you say the selection was an accident?"

"I-no, it was no accident, Master," he said quietly, confused. "It was... I wanted to kiss you. The dance of faces permitted such closeness in an acceptable way that did not risk your honor."

"And would not leave me a choice in the matter," his master added firmly. "Is that your idea of intimacy?" He frowned, and for a horrible second Obi-Wan thought he was about to get additional study work. But his master merely shook his head and said, "I told you you were due for disappointment, Obi-Wan."

"But I'm not disappointed." He still felt the heaviness of his limbs, still felt the contrasting lightheadedness. No, he wasn't disappointed.

Master Jinn seemed flustered at that, and Obi-Wan watched as the man searched for the right words... a rare occurrence indeed for such a skilled diplomat as he. "If unwilling participation appeals to you, padawan, then we have a great deal of work to do." Ahh. There was the threat of additional study work.

"I'm not saying that." And he wasn't. He became more compassionate, more empathic with every cycle; it made egocentrism difficult in the extreme. Now he floundered in his own mind as he searched the dance, searched his impressions. Then, feeling his heart thump hard, he looked up at his master. "You weren't unwilling."

"I was hardly enthusiastic."

"But you weren't unwilling. I'd have known, I'm sure of it." His heart thumped again, and he felt the flush of heat as blood suffused his skin.

"Don't get your hopes up, padawan," Master Jinn answered cuttingly. "I was being polite. Patient. Tolerant."

Obi-Wan searched again, and found the words to be true. "Um. Yes."

"And that's close enough to 'willing' to satisfy your need?"

"No." The leaden weight that pressed in on his chest made it difficult to breathe, to keep the food he'd eaten securely in his belly. "No."

"I told you," he said quietly, "you were due for disappointment."

He stared up at Master Jinn, his entire body feeling leaden and thick, like the mass at the heart of a star. He swallowed, closed his eyes to gain control of his body before he became violently ill. Polite. Tolerant. Those words had never seemed repugnant to him, before. "Master..." he hesitated, feeling unprepared for an answer whatever it might be, but... Patient. Tolerant. The words swam in his head, insults somehow that made what he felt seem inconsequential and small. "Master, you imagine too, don't you? You imagine, and explore yourself just as I do."

Master Jinn nodded his understanding. "Occasionally."

"Do you imagine me in your private moments?"

The shutters closed so abruptly it was nearly physical, and the small steps that separated them became a chasm. "I do not," he said flatly. "I would not."

The censure was clear. "Then why is it acceptable that I imagine you?" Master Jinn's hand raised to his brow, rubbing at frown lines there, and Obi-Wan felt guilt slash through the heaviness in him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, miserable. "I have no wish to cause you pain. I just-I don't understand. I don't understand any of this."

"You don't cause me pain, Padawan," he said, his voice so distant he might have been standing in another tower across the Temple grounds. "You cause yourself pain, and only for this do I grieve. As to your question... youth runs a narrower channel, and therefore more swiftly, with more energy and aggression than does age. Only time will teach you the answer to your question. For now, all I can say is that it is permissible, and not abnormal, that you fantasize about me when you masturbate. Though doing so doesn't necessarily serve either one of us."

He couldn't keep standing here talking like this. He'd be crying in a moment, and for the first time since he had become this man's padawan he didn't want to let himself be seen. "I'd like... I'm going to bed, if there's nothing else?"

Master Jinn nodded, watching him calmly. "Nothing for now. We'll talk more in the morning."

He counted himself lucky for the respite, said "Yes, Master," and bolted from the salon.

Many hours later, Obi-Wan continued to lie wide awake on his bed, thoughts awhirl. His mind skittered along the edges of that kiss and the incredible passion it had stirred inside him. Had it stirred nothing in his master? Patience. Tolerance. He wanted to spit, the words were so hateful. And yet he knew his master was only being honest.

Shash. That just made worse.

He skirted around the conversation, turning it over and over in his mind. His master had called him beautiful, said so even in front of Master Yoda. His master had kissed him... in a fashion you manipulated. He made that clear enough. His master had been polite, just as Obi-Wan had followed protocol and touched his closed lips to Master Wadlen's when she had taught him the dance of faces. He hadn't considered that a kiss, with Master Wadlen. Perhaps Master Jinn hadn't considered it a kiss with him, either. But his own body had ignited like dry tinder touched by lightning...

Over and over, around and around his thoughts chased themselves, and as the morning sun added its own special weight to the lights of the City, he was no closer to understanding.

He lay in his bed until he sensed Master Jinn in the main room, and finally dragged himself up. Went directly to the fresher and bathed before joining his master at the breakfast table. Master Jinn sat waiting for him, sipping tea, and Obi-Wan looked with distaste at the plates set before him. He felt not even a twinge of hunger.

"Padawan." The "teaching posture" was in evidence from the ramrod spine to the subtle stiffness of facial muscles, and Obi-Wan braced himself.

"Master."

"I have a question."

"Yes, Master?"

"How do you know you love me?"

"Because my heart soars when I look upon you."

"Anything else? Is there anything quantifiable?"

"It's because of who you are, what you are."

"So you love other Jedi masters similarly?"

Shash. They were playing the logic game. Any second now Qui-Gon would start asking why. "No, master. Your light is unique to you."

"As we are all unique. But we are all similar, as well."

"But it is your flame that draws me."

"Why?"

Obi-Wan had to admit in the privacy of his own mind that he didn't much like the man when they got into conversations like this. He still loved him, but he didn't particularly like him. "You fill my heart, Master," he said tiredly. "Is that not enough?"

"Enough for what, Obi-Wan?"

He kicked at the table leg, frustrated, and resorted to solipsism. "Indeed, Master, enough for what?"

A sigh. "You say I fill your heart."

"Absolutely."

"So as your teacher I must tell you this; your heart has not reached even half its capacity to contain something such as love. It is still young and undeveloped, and it has much growing to do."

"Nonetheless," he said stubbornly, "it is full now."

"I'm honored by that love, Padawan." Quietly, barely a whisper, and Obi-Wan felt his entire focus move to those lips that had touched his last night, the tongue that moved behind teeth, which had stroked around and against his last night. Politely. "But what you feel is confused with what your growing body has begun to demand. They aren't the same thing."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips in irritation, felt his arms crossing stubbornly of their own volition. "If you're going to tell me that I do not feel passion for you-you, specifically and personally-when I know I do, I'll call you liar, Master. And you've never been that to me."

Master Jinn looked pained, his brows drawing downward, his mouth tightening. Finally he said, "And I will not be now. I cannot speak for you in this, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I can only speak for myself. While my love for you knows no bounds, it knows many rules. Learn of a boundless love, Padawan, and take comfort in that. Leave this sexual passion behind."

Love? Oh, he understood all the nuances of that word. For the first time he felt patronized, treated like a child. The sting burned at his heart and compelled him to abrupt accusation. "If you truly loved me, you'd-"

"What?" his master cut him off, the words short and clipped with irritation. "Engage in sexual congress with you? Let you pretend we shared intimacy when we do not? That would prove my love for you?" He waved a dismissive hand, and pulled his plate toward himself. "Yoda was right, in some ways you're still a child."

"I'm not asking for proof! I'm asking for you! I don't doubt your love for me, Master. I just don't understand how you can so easily separate love from desire, when I find it a task impossible to accomplish!"

Master Jinn rose and swept toward him in a flurry of fabric and energy until he towered over Obi-Wan's chair. Obi-Wan felt his mouth go dry. "I separate them, Padawan, because they are separable; love and desire are not the same things." As his master began to pace, Obi-Wan surreptitiously slid out of his chair. He wouldn't be able to listen if the man swept up over him like that again. "I've been thinking about this problem," he continued, "and I want you to know I'm contemplating sending you to a public sex worker to make you understand your error."

"I wouldn't go." The core of him was clear on this, and he felt his hands fisting against his thighs, felt his feet planting themselves more firmly against the floor, digging in for a fight.

Thunderous look. "If I command you, Padawan, you will obey."

It was a battle of wills, and every time he did it Obi-Wan wondered what he was thinking, to engage in such with this man. "If you commanded me," he grated, "you would be exercising your position over my private life. I would have a right to refuse, and refuse I would."

"The rule applies only to the parts of your life that you actually keep private. You know you haven't."

"You said yourself that I have yet to overstep a boundary. So I've done well enough to make my own decisions in this."

Qui Gon's tone softened. "You imagine that I'd give you an order that wasn't for your ultimate benefit, when your mind knows that isn't true. You're ruled by your emotions now more than you've been since I took you as my padawan learner. How long should we continue before the problem is addressed?"

The words were quiet and logical. Passionless. While Obi-Wan felt the blaze of emotion running through him, colored from the red heat of anger right down to the icy black of betrayal. "How can you stand there and feel nothing?!" he blurted, nearly shouting at the man. "I tossed and turned this entire night, and I still don't understand it! How can you look at me and at what I feel for you, and feel nothing in return?! Love is nurtured by more love, like plants are nurtured by water. I know this is true." He poked his finger against his own sternum, emphasizing. "I know it in here."

The lecturing position again, and his master looked truly forbidding. He remembered the look from years past, but it no longer intimidated him. "One: Love is not quid pro quo. Two: you insult us both by suggesting that I feel nothing for you. Three: if you indeed knew in your heart that love is nurtured by love, then you would know exactly how deeply I feel for you, and you'd have great insight about why you feel as you do for me." A pause, a breath, a gathering of calm, and his master became the still cool eye in the midst of Obi-Wan's emotional storm. "Four: I do love you, as you well know. But my love for you is wider than yours for me. In some ways, my love for you is more that of a parent for a child." The hand that touched his shoulder was familiar and kind, and utterly platonic. With it came a near-physical pain. "I was forty-one years old when I first saw you. You were-what, five? Six? I'd been a man for over twenty years and had more than my measure of pleasures. As your teacher, in some ways I will always see that child in you. This is as it should be, Obi-Wan." Master Jinn's eyes softened, reflecting the Force-fed core of the man. "And, for good or ill, I have never found children sexually desirable."

The words, cool like water, assuaged the fires in him, leaving only a vague shame at his loss of control. But still he was compelled to pursue, to understand fully rather than leave himself open only to pain. He reached up and covered the big hand on his shoulder with his own. "But you were a child once as well, as is every being. We leave childhood behind, Master, and we become adults, and everything changes: caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly, and the caterpillar is no more. You've said so yourself."

His master sighed yet again, and withdrew his hand. "That is true enough, but the hand that feeds the caterpillar always sees it, even in the butterfly."

"Always?"

Those wide lips parted in a wry grin. "I was generalizing. But Obi-Wan, your training is still early in its years, and there are other forces in play. When you seek my approval and my attention so single-mindedly, you fail to hear your own heart, and the Force as it whispers within you; instead you listen only for me. I am not your conscience. I am not the one who determines right and wrong for you, success or failure. I am merely your teacher, your guide to finding your own path in the Force. That is the contract you and I have undertaken together, and your passion for me interferes with this contract."

"I..." Obi-Wan found himself without words. It had never occurred to him that he was making his master more important to him than himself, than his training, than his own path. "I..."

Master Jinn's eyes warmed slightly, and he quirked an eyebrow. "I am your teacher first and foremost. Would you bid me disregard that obligation?"

'Never, Master' should have sprung from his lips, but he managed again only a feeble, "I..."

"Would you bid me follow your heart instead of my own?"

He was beginning to understand and oh, it hurt. His own conscience was achingly clear on the subject. "No, Master," he whispered, throat tight. "Each being must follow his own path, and if your path is not with me-at least not in this way... I must accept that." He felt his brow furrowing, recalled a serenity meditation to ease it; this was his pain, not Master Jinn's. "I must also accept that... that my feelings for you... may damage my ability to learn from you, that you are neither my god nor my universe, but my teacher." He glanced up again, locking gazes with those beloved blue eyes, asked, "Is this not correct, Master?"

"What does your conscience tell you?"

The image of Master Jinn began to blur as his chest constricted and tears filled his eyes to overflowing. Their heat scalded, etching pain down his cheeks and chin, somehow joining up with the ravenous snake that constricted the length of his windpipe, squeezing so tightly he feared his throat would be crushed. "It tells me I am correct," he managed, voice cracking harshly, "and that I must not love you so."

Master Jinn nodded, and waited, obviously seeking something more from him. He almost expected a "why?" but his master remained silent. Obi-Wan worked hard to unknot the tangled skein of emotion that roiled through him, feeling in some way tested, now as always. The tears kept rolling down his cheeks, collecting along his jaw before dripping down onto his tunic. He wouldn't even raise a hand to remove or deny them. But denial and control were two very different things. "My love for you is not wrong. I would know, if it was. But it must have and keep its place." For the first time, looking at and longing for the man who had already given him so much, who sacrificed so much in order to see him and others like him grow strong in the Force and meet their own destinies, Obi-Wan understood how a gift could be a burden. Still, he had to ask, he had to know-and Qui-Gon had promised him honesty. "Do you feel nothing for me, my Master? No spark of interest, no desire? Am I somehow lacking in this area?"

His master's laughter, clear and pure, rang through the room like a bell. "The flesh which houses you clearly reflects the spirit that lives within. Of course you aren't lacking in this area. But, Padawan, a sunrise can only be appreciated by a being with eyes to see it. I do not have the eyes to see you with passion."

"And I can't teach you to see?" he asked, clinging tenaciously to hope.

"You are the student. There is nothing you can teach me in this area at this time. And now, I beg you, seek out your pleasures with other lovers, and leave this behind."

"No!" Hotly. "I want no other lovers."

Master Jinn sighed and returned to his chair and his meal, chewing absently on bread and cheese. "Then your next few years will be lonely indeed, and I feel great sorrow for that."

Obi-Wan dragged his plate toward him, forcing down the food because he'd be ordered to otherwise; his physical training schedule was heavy today. He knew his master was being honest, yet somehow it seemed easier to bear a love unrequited than to bear no love at all. Was he so different from other padawans, that he and he alone refused to give up a feeling so deep, so rich, so full? Or were there others like him, battling their positions and their desires?

As he emptied his plate he realized that it didn't matter. He would not, he could not give up this feeling; it was too precious. And if only he felt it, and if it was a gift as his master had said, it was his responsibility alone to see that it no longer be a burden for either of them. Casting a furtive glance at his master, he wondered if he would ever touch himself to sleep with the memory of that appropriated kiss, of those hands warm and large against him. He thought not. He wondered if Challi, or Hartmal Keene or a host of others would grace his mind in the late-night hours, and again, he thought not. He curled in upon himself, feeling almost unbearably alone; it seemed the monastic life was his, and while painful in the extreme, he could see no other way.

He must now measure his love for his teacher against his own will, against the voice of the Force inside him, and he could never let his need for love from the man speak louder than the Force. He had no idea how to accomplish that task, no idea how anyone could. But for now, he would put away the memory of that kiss, of those formal touches, of his sexual desires, and to the best of his ability, think of them no more.

Go on to Chapter 3