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Chapter VIII ------

Qui-Gon would come home today.

Stroking an almost invisible wrinkle out of the quilt, Obi-Wan carefully folded back one corner of the pristine covers, a welcome and an invitation to slip inside. The scent of fresh linen lay light in the air and heavy on his heart.

Straightening, he looked around the bedroom once more, finding it neat and clean as it should be. Only one place still needed his attention and he looked down to the items he had laid onto the low nightstand, checking again to be sure everything was there that his master might need while resting and recuperating. His hand lingered on the book Qui-Gon had started to read before their last set of missions--months ago. A Bin Binadi biography Obi-Wan had found in a dingy antique shop on Dantooine. A rare print on durapapyrus, a collector's item, a lucky find, as there was so little left about that famous alderin composer his master adored.

Actually it was her seventh symphony filtering in from the living room, that often misunderstood one about parting and the hope of a reunion in the beyond. It sounded gay, and most took it at face value, but when really listening it could break one's heart.

Obi-Wan sighed and turned his attention away from the music and on to his inspection. A datapad with the latest downloads, a self-cooling pitcher with water...His eyes returned to the book and the mark that his handling had jumbled half out from between the pages. That looked like...Obi-Wan opened the book and stared at the photocard his master had used as bookmark. A print of a watercolor showing a proudly posing Jedi. A Jedi with Obi-Wan's grinning sixteen-year-old face painted in between Qui-Gon-style long hair and beard. And at the bottom in a flourished cursive: Greetings from Knight Kenobi!

Oh, Qui-Gon had kept that silly picture, he hadn't known...

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan crumpled the card to a tight ball. Controlling the impulse to fling it away he breathed calm into himself, which was not easy to do but in the end his fingers weren't even shaking as he put a tissue between the pages, closed the book with the care an antique required and stalked out into the kitchenette.

The paper ball was stuffed into the waste disposal.

Deliberately thinking about nothing, just listening to the music, Obi-Wan busied himself with setting up for tea. From the shelf he took down two delicate black bowls to set them on the tray. The overhead lighting caught on their shiny surface and Obi-Wan held one up a little to see the familiar play of light on the ornaments under the glazing. So thin was the porcelain that the white flowers seemed almost transparent, the light shining through them as if lit from within.

Their best, their special occasion set.

A gift to Qui-Gon. From himself. Now a childish part of him wished he had never given it for from tomorrow on another would share it, would mark special days with it, special days without him.

Again blanking his mind, Obi-Wan set what he needed on the tray and brought it to the table in the middle of the living room. Kneeling, he wiped away a dust particle that had dared settle on the painstakingly polished black lacquer surface. Settling the tray on the table, he eyed the other things already present: the covered incense bowl, the unlit gheel-candle, the soft green cloth outlining the object beneath. With hesitant fingers he plucked the cloth into folds until it obscured what it covered--as if his knowledge of it would vanish when his eyes could not see it anymore. Feeling foolish, Obi-Wan sat back and cast a forlorn look about the room. Neat and clean as the bedroom. And unsettlingly unfamiliar. He had worked all night to set it back into how it had been before. Before he had come to live here.

He remembered as if it had happened yesterday when he had stood in the door for the first time, so shy and unsure, clenching his checkered blanket--one of his few possessions--to his chest like a shield. Qui-Gon had taken the blanket from him and had set it on the back of the sofa, right next to his own. And while that one, dark green with blooming vines woven into it, had been replaced a long time ago, his own with the blue and green checks had always been there, draped over the back of the sofa, a statement of belonging, of home.

The sofa's back was empty now.

Taking his eyes off the perverse sight, Obi-Wan let his eyes roam over the rest of the room.

He had rearranged the furniture. The big, empty space between Qui-Gon's desk and the balcony doors was gone. The desk was at its old position, facing the room, not pushed up against the wall anymore, sofa and table taking up much more space than before.

With that, their living space had vanished. The thick maroon rugs and sitting-pillows were gone, given to friends and colleagues, the low table dismantled and about to be recycled. The latter hadn't been easy--the well-worn table-surface had been an array of warm memories out of better days--scarred and spotted from ink and paint and tools: on it he had learned to build lightsabers, had spent calm, joyful hours on calligraphy and had watched Qui-Gon paint his beautiful water-color landscapes that decorated the hall leading to the library. To destroy it was the only solution he could find for it--it was too painful to keep and impossible to give away to strangers who would see the marks only as ugly stains.

Yes, it was all back to the beginning, without the table, without the pictures, without the red rugs. He had even dragged the luccustus out of its corner on the balcony to its old place right before the window, where it again blocked the view to the ever busy sky of Coruscant. No selfish padawan, who loved to look at the night sky and found the movements soothing, would make his good-hearted teacher suffer anymore for what he himself thought distracting and disharmonious. How many compromises Qui-Gon had made for him over the years: Living on the floor instead of on the comfortable sofa, tolerating the open view of the sky, never complaining about the cramped condition of his working space, silently suffering the questionable results of impressionist painting on his walls--

But now all was again as it was before he had come here--or would be soon.

There was this arrangement on the black lacquer table.

Obi-Wan pushed the tray with the tea bowls a little bit farther away from the candle and the other items and sat down on the sofa, gingerly, as a guest might, and waited for his master to come home.

He listened to the music until it ended with a light filled crescendo that promised a better world. Otherwhen. Otherwhere. Not here. Obi-Wan nodded to himself and closed his eyes to find solace in meditation, but every once in a while he came up again and checked the clock. Qui-Gon was late, and he tried not to worry.

He gave up when the dinner bell rang with its deep resonance that could be felt in the old stonework of the Temple. Obi-Wan fought down a short rising of nerves and stood up to call the healers. Yes, Master Jinn left two hours ago--no, they did not know where he had gone.

Obi-Wan denied himself any thoughts about why he hadn't come here, where he possibly was. It was not his to ask anymore. Not knowing what else to do, he settled down on the sofa again and proceeded to wait, lightly meditating on patience and unnecessary worrying.

One more hour went by before Obi-Wan felt the familiar presence before the door.

He unfolded himself gracefully from the sofa, raised the lights and stood in the middle of the room, hood up, hands in the sleeves of his robe.

Qui-Gon walked in and stopped short, seemingly surprised to see him standing there.

Had he expected to find Obi-Wan already gone for good? The feeling of not being wanted, even to say good-bye, brought a new ache to his heart.

As it had been all the times before, Obi-Wan stepped forward, lowered his head in welcome and took the dark robe from the shoulders of the tall man. An unbidden thought gibbered through his mind as he slipped the heavy cloth onto its hanger, straightened the material with automatic precision and gestured for the master to sit while he went into the kitchen to brew up the tea-water: Last time for this. For a second or two he leant on the kitchen counter, overcome, before he managed to give his anxieties to the Force and find the calm he needed to see this through.

As Obi-Wan reentered the living room he found Qui-Gon looking over the changed furniture and decorations and then turning very disturbed eyes on him as Obi-Wan knelt on one knee on the other side of the table. Obi-Wan said nothing as he filled one bowl with the hot water in unhurried precision. He put the kettle on the tray and took the lid from the small ornamented jar and a heavy and unfamiliar scent rose sharp into his nose. From the corner of his eyes he saw his master stiffen and make an aborted gesture with his hand, as if he had wanted to stop him. Did he recognize the scent? Did he knew why canfer was also called farewell-wort and padawan's honor? Or even padawan-blood?

Qui-Gon's hand fell back to his knee and relieved, Obi-Wan went on with the tea ceremony of last sharing. With a measured jerk of his wrist he set the water in the bowl in motion and strew the dried leaves into it one by one. When the water had turned the color of light amber, he stopped the movement and poured half of the readied tea into the second bowl, very careful none of the leaves carried over into the new vessel. Canfer-leaves had a tannin-bound alkaloid that should not be allowed to get into the tea or it would fast turn into a potent poison--a really appropriate brew for a disavowing ritual. Obi-Wan took up the half-filled bowl and took three little sips from it, tasting for the first time the bittersweet aroma with its sharp undertone of warning of more unpleasant ingredients. Gulping the brew down was not easily done, his shrunken, queasy stomach protesting even at the thought. For a moment his concentration was on the unstable hot spot in his insides, waiting for some signal that he might have miscalculated.

When he was sure it was safe, Obi-Wan turned the bowl in his hands and offered it to the master.

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon began but stopped as Obi-Wan shook his head and just held the bowl higher in silent offering. With hesitant fingers the master took the bowl and drank down the brew in one draft, very unceremonious but loud and defiantly showing his trust that way. It was so typical of Qui-Gon it almost brought the ghost of a fond smile to the corners of Obi-Wan's lips. The master did know this ritual--he obviously knew that if he had refused to drink the canfer tea, Obi-Wan would have had to drink the other half of the now blood-red brew. At least he didn't want him dead, which was a comfort.

Holding tightly on to the ritual, Obi-Wan asked with silent gesture back for the black bowl and caught the last drop of tea with his own tongue, concluding the circle of last sharing. Holding the empty bowl up, Obi-Wan snapped the porcelain cup in two and laid the halves carefully back to back on the tray. There was a startled sound from the other man but he ignored it--it was time for the next step in the script and as long as he didn't stop, as long as he didn't look at Qui-Gon again he could manage.

With a hand gesture he focused the Force on the wick of the candle and set the alkaline metals inside to a hot white flame.

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon said, breaking the silence with a voice raw and uneven. "You need not--" He ended in a hitched breath as Obi-Wan drew back the green cloth to reveal the dagger.

Not daring to think, the well-memorized steps of the old ritual held Obi-Wan together as he folded the cloth into a neat square before he took the lid from the incense bowl and let the psychoactive fragrance fill the room with its earthy heaviness.

He lifted the small, curved dagger and held it up before his face, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes over its tip.

For the first time Obi-Wan looked, really looked at the man before him, saw the paleness in his sunken cheeks, the weariness in the deep lines around his eyes, the dark smudges under them...and then the eyes themselves. There was emotion there. Strong emotion. Surprise. Dread. Sorrow. Something else. A lot of something else.

Obi-Wan gulped, his hand wavering, worry battling with determination and he took hold of himself in the space of two hasty breaths. He had sworn he would go through this with dignity. He could rant and scream as much as he liked afterwards, when he was alone again. But this he would do as a Jedi should. Last time.

"Master Jinn," he said, his voice catching as if he were an adolescent. Not good. He cleared his throat and tried again: "Master Jinn. I have been denied my rights."

With this he moved to kneel directly in front of Qui-Gon's sitting form. He turned the dagger in his hands and presented the hilt to the master.

Qui-Gon sat still as a marble stature, his hands folded in his lap. Obi-Wan was reminded of Yoda and his refusal to take his lightsaber from his hands. But as with Yoda he wouldn't be denied.

With gentle but relentless fingers he took hold of one of the big hands and placed the hilt into it, closing the seemingly nerveless and shockingly cold fingers over it.

Obi-Wan waited but again Qui-Gon failed to follow the ritual. It was humiliating, but what ego was left to be bruised anyway? So Obi-Wan took the cold hand again and lifted it up, a dead weight in his grip.

He led hand and dagger to the candle and dipped the tip into the flame until the shiny metal blackened. There should be words now. Ritual words of disavowing. But Qui-Gon was silent and Obi-Wan realized he would say nothing no matter what. Without words then--action spoke louder anyway. Obi-Wan let the dagger's blade get hotter in candle's fire until the whole tip glowed in a deep, bloody red.

Satisfied Obi-Wan let go of the hand and reached up to lift his robe's cowl from his head.

He tugged the long, loose strand of hair from inside the robe and smoothed it down his chest. Taking a deep breath for the next words he had to speak, he looked up and found Qui-Gon's eyes on him as burning as the dagger's tip. Obi-Wan forgot to breathe, all his careful calmness almost shattering as he read the stunned horror written in Qui-Gon's black eyes. They swept over his head and down the loose braid to settle at last on his features, searching over his face. He knew he looked haunted and ill. He was haunted and ill. A small spark of ire welled up in him. I'm the work of your hands, he wanted to spit, so don't look as if you don't like your creation! Instead he said the words Qui-Gon should say now, and wouldn't: "As it is the right of the master to make a padawan, it is his right to unmake."

Not enough. "Master Jinn. You renounced me as your padawan without following the sacred ritual. I now demand the conclusion of that ritual I was denied before."

Obi-Wan leant his head back and to the side, exposing the root of his braid above his right ear, exposing also his neck to the glowing blade. Singed, not cut. Dishonor, not honor. Fallen, not raised.

He felt Qui-Gon's hand on the side of his head and Obi-Wan closed his eyes and held his breath, his pulse a deafening roar in his ears as the hand stroked along the lock.

Qui-Gon was near, he felt his breath on his cheek, could smell him, could drink in his breath if he wanted...wanted...He expelled the stale air out of his lungs and inhaled deeply. The new air streaming into his nose spoke of canfer tea--and of Qui-Gon Jinn himself, a heady, strong aroma, going directly to his brain faster than any incense could, driving all thought from him--

He heard the clutter of metal on porcelain, but didn't understand, didn't care, his mind totally absorbed by the warm, moist, rhythmic breeze on his skin and the fingers running down his hair, touching his heaving chest in the process, painting a searing line over his nipple as they passed, felt even through three layers of cloth. The fingers came upward again, following the same path, back up to his collarbone, his neck. Touching naked skin there.

Obi-Wan flinched at the feathery soft contact, his skin rippling, sweet agony as it was and he sobbed soundlessly in desperation.

The fingers stopped at that place behind his ear again. He felt them pulling at his hair. Now. It would happen. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest and he remained motionless only by mustering all of his will, biting down hard on his lower lip, tasting iron. A twist in his hair. A tug. Familiar. Unbelievable.

The hot breath against his cheek was sucked away for a moment and when it came back it brought words with it. Words, fanning over his cheek, whispering into his ear, rattling at his stunned mind.

"The Force...the Force surrounds us, is entwined with us, making us one, making three to one strand, the Force, the Teacher, the Learner, inseparable, stronger than one alone, a pattern of body, heart and mind."

Clever fingers plaited swiftly downwards and then stilled, resting against his crazily pumping heart.

"I, Qui-Gon Jinn, Master in the Order of Jedi, take you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, born to the Jedi, raised to be Jedi, as my Padawan-Learner. To guide you, to teach you in the way of the Light until the day we will stand as equals, Knight to Knight."

The fingers skipped up the braid again, ran along the curve of his ear and sought their way to his temple, bristling through his short pelt of hair. Two big palms framed his face then and soft flesh pressed against his forehead.

Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open at the contact. He saw Qui-Gon's mouth move away from him and an impulse made Obi-Wan reach out and touch a fingertip to the sculptured lips, feeling their softness, a sudden yearning rising in him. The lips under his finger moved, forming his name, asking him something.

Obi-Wan didn't know what, his thoughts a forced standstill between hope and hurt and the fear of getting hurt even more in daring to hope. And above all else the stun of total incomprehension. The callused thumbs on both sides of his chin moved in a slow caress, bringing his eyes back to the ones looking at him so intensely.

"I have much to tell you, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said in a low rumble, holding his gaze. "Had I known you were waiting here for me, I would have given you word. I'm sorry to have let you sit here like this for all these hours, to let you think you're unwanted. Far from it." A pause, a sigh. "After I was released from the healers this afternoon I had a long talk with Master Yoda. He made me understand and rethink a lot of things that have transpired since our return from Tatooine."

Qui-Gon leant in and pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan's. He felt a soft Force probe fan over his mind and after a short hesitation let it in. Qui-Gon's familiar presence sank down into the depths of his mind and Obi-Wan sobbed, rushing to him in a needful welcome. But Qui-Gon brushed gently by, obviously searching for something--and Obi-Wan knew what it was as contact was made--the inflamed areas of his brain where the bond had been cried out in hurt and need, the stunned and traumatized cells exploded into waking, searching for the other half of the ripped bond. Qui-Gon made a hasty retreat and Obi-Wan cried out after him, mentally and physically, a wail that broke on the walls of their apartment, shivering in the ether.

In the outside world Obi-Wan found himself pressed up against his master, his head buried in his neck, tears running unchecked down his face. The big hands still cradled his skull and the older man's face was pressed firmly against the crown of his head. Their auras were still tightly intermingled, an immeasurable comfort he had thought lost forever. But it was not enough, not enough.

Qui-Gon was rocking him softly, making soothing little noises deep in his throat. Obi-Wan felt him gulp convulsively in preparation to speak, his deep, raw voice resounding in his head with a nauseating echo.

"It will be all right. We will mend the bond. Believe me, everything will be all right. Ah, why did Yoda not tell me, he must have seen it."

The last obviously more to himself but Obi-Wan had no strength to ask anyway. He was content for the moment to bask in the healing waves his master was bathing him in. After a long while the eddies of the Force straightened out in him and he found himself returning to a certain calm where thoughts and not only feelings were possible again.

He sniffed against the hot skin of the throat he had buried his nose in and felt suddenly shy about the mess he had made there with his crying and all. He tried to lift his head and the pressure on top of it vanished, as Qui-Gon sat up also. But the large hands just came around and framed his face again, lifting it for the inspection of blue eyes, which looked big and sad, with moisture clinging to the fine lashes surrounding them.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said very gravely. "I did you wrong. I hurt you. Nothing of it was planned, believe me. Forgive me for my blindness."

Obi-Wan looked at him, at the earnest regret in the austere face, the sadness in the liquid eyes. Forgive him? No question there, in this moment Obi-Wan would have forgiven this man anything. He gulped several times, trying to find his voice around the raw tissue of his throat. "I forgive you," he managed after a moment and marveled at the relief he saw on the other's face. "But I do not understand. Make me understand."

Qui-Gon's hands fell on his shoulders and squeezed them lightly. "Yes. That's why I came here in the first place. While with my master I learned something, something very disturbing."

The big hands took a stronger hold on his shoulders and drew him up as Qui-Gon stood. "Can you walk?" Obi-Wan looked up at the tall man, nodded and steadied himself, cheating a little bit with the Force to stop the shaking of his legs. Qui-Gon let him go and walked to the door. After a second of uncertainty he held out his hand to his apprentice. "Come."

Obi-Wan grabbed the hand offered to him and was drawn out into the corridor.

It was surreal. Obi-Wan had the feeling of watching himself from the outside as he was being led by the hand by the one who should this night have left his life for good and for all. The one who had replaited his apprentice-braid. Had asked him to forgive him. A possibility he had never foreseen.

But he was sure, and became more so by the minute as his brain slowly kicked in again, that Qui-Gon really couldn't think it would be so simple. Even if he had a good explanation--which he doubted, what could there be?--for the heartless cruelty with which he had cast him aside in favor of the Chosen One. Had crushed his dreams, his very future for a nebulous prophecy. A prophecy which sounded more than ominous to him, like a thread, a warning. And even if it was not, when Qui-Gon was right in his excitement over Anakin Skywalker, it hadn't given him the right to snap their bond without forewarning, to haul him into the hell of psychic shock.

He almost felt like his old self again, his thoughts clear and his mind highly aware of the Force and it made him wonder what kind of madness he had lived in these last days. And what was different now.

His eyes fell to where his hand was tightly held in the cradle of a big, warm palm.

It was Qui-Gon. Of course. It was his Force-aura that cradled Obi-Wan as securely as his hand around Obi-Wan's own. Without it he had simply fallen apart.

And Qui-Gon? Had he felt the same? Obviously not, as he remembered the serene face of his master as he had renounced him before the Council. Had the bond then meant so little to him? Could it have been that their bond had been so unusually strong on his side while being so weak and insubstantial on his master's? He never had heard of something like that but the living proof was walking here right beside him. He needed to know.

"Master? Did you feel pain, when you...when our bond...snapped?"

Qui-Gon's step faltered for a moment. He cast a sidelong glance at Obi-Wan then walked forward again, briskly, his hand tightening around the smaller one.

"I was a little bit dizzy and later had a rather severe headache for a few hours."

A little bit dizzy? Obi-Wan felt as if his chest had been compressed by a giant clamp. He saw Qui-Gon looking down at him worryingly but ignored it, turning his eyes straight ahead, seeing nothing as his eyes refused to focus.

So it was real, not only the ghosts of a psychic trauma in the dawn of a violently broken bond. A bond that had been just a nuisance on Qui-Gon's side as much as it had been life on his. Was that again a measure of the strength of their individual minds? Qui-Gon self-sufficient and controlled and himself needy and dependent?

With these dark thoughts festering in his mind again, they seemed to have reached their destination. Obi-Wan had paid no attention to where they were going, and was amazed to find himself at the threshold of Master Yoda's private quarters.

The door opened without them having announced their presence and they were invited inside. Obi-Wan found the old Jedi master sitting on a low stool with the Skywalker child squatting beside him on a woven mat.

The boy looked up unhappily and paled visibly, his eyes rounding in fear as he saw Obi-Wan, who was more than a little bit confused by that reaction.

"So, there you are."

"Master Yoda, " Qui-Gon bowed his head, "I am sorry it took a while longer than planned to come back with him." Qui-Gon folded his long legs under him and sat down before his former master. Somewhat belatedly Obi-Wan made his greeting and followed his master down, sitting back on his heels, wary, still eyeing the boy who had moved a little bit backwards, away from him.

Yoda's ears twitched as he looked at Obi-Wan. His little, gnarled hand reached out and took hold of Obi-Wan's braid. "Reconcile you did?"

Obi-Wan had no answer. He remembered his desperate joy as Qui-Gon had remade the padawan-braid. But now the old hurt was back, the gaping wound of a trust broken, a sacred vow becoming worthless that night before the Council.

"I was told I would get explanations here," Obi-Wan evaded, lowering his eyes for a moment before meeting the ageless green orbs again. "Before that I cannot decide, Master Yoda. Too much has happened."

Obi-Wan saw from the corner of his eyes how Qui-Gon lowered his head at his words. Yoda's ears dipped down. He glanced at Qui-Gon sadly. "Told you I did, too deep it may be. Heal it may not."

"Yes, my Master. Maybe he will find it in himself to really forgive me when he knows the whole story." Qui-Gon turned his face to Obi-Wan. "Even if you never trust me again, I will spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness."

Strong words from the tongue of his proud, unbending master. Obi-Wan wanted to say them then, wanted to say them again, as he had earlier in the emotional wake of his breakdown: I forgive you. But they would have been empty words now and Qui-Gon knew it.

"I hear you," he said at last, his eyes glued to his master's, daring him for a good explanation, daring him not to play him for a fool.

To his astonishment Qui-Gon just nodded and looked over to where Anakin cowered. "Tell him."

Whatever Obi-Wan had expected this was not it. He couldn't imagine what the little boy from Tatooine could have to do with everything; as far as he knew, Anakin was just a victim of circumstances, Chosen One or not--there was a whisper of a memory concerning the boy, something he had seen, something he had wanted to talk about with Master Yoda...The memory faded and Obi-Wan couldn't grab it, but it left his nerves on edge. Quizzically he looked from his master to Yoda and then to the child.

Anakin's blond head was bent and he was nervously playing with his fingers. "All, Master Qui-Gon?" he whispered without looking up.

"Everything you told us."

Silence lay heavily over the room for a while, Anakin obviously fighting with words that wouldn't come.

At last Master Yoda let out a small sigh and stood up. He tapped his stick against Qui-Gon's knee. "Not needed here, we are. Go in the garden, we will."

Qui-Gon looked doubtful, obviously reluctant to leave, but stood up nevertheless. He laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and squeezed once before following his former master out of the room.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to the only one who could answer his questions now. "Anakin, what is the meaning of all this? What is it you have to tell me?"

The boy shook his head and hugged his knees to his chest. The sight of the miserable child made Obi-Wan's heart ache and he reached out to him, touching the fair hair. Startled the boy drew his head away, shying from his touch as if burned. Rejected, Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and tucked his hands between his knees. "So tell me then."

"I was afraid he would leave me. And I wanted to be a Jedi--so much," the boy at last began haltingly. "I let him think he needed to train me."

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly at this, "Let him think? How so?"

"You know, when people want something, I can make it stronger."

Force suggestions from someone so young and untrained? "Go on."

"Master Qui-Gon wanted me to become Jedi and the Council didn't want me to become one. So I..." The boy became agitated now, and fidgeting he looked everywhere but at Obi-Wan. "He thought about me being the 'Chosen One,' whatever that is, I didn't know, but he wasn't sure. I made him sure."

Obi-Wan's head came up. "You made him sure? He was not sure?"

"No! He doesn't trust in--prophecy."

That was very disturbing news. Anakin could read Qui-Gon without him knowing? Could plant suggestions in a Jedi master's mind? Worse, he had done so in front of the entire Jedi Council, and not one of them had felt it? What were this powers this child had? This untrained child!

"Tell me again. You manipulated Master Qui-Gon into believing you are the Chosen One of the Prophecy?"

"The thought was his, I only made it stronger."

"All right. You made it stronger. What else did you do?"

"When Master Yoda said he could have only one padawan, I made him choose me."

Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat. Could it be Qui-Gon did not...Oh, Force, let it be..."Anakin, Qui-Gon, Master Qui-Gon, he did not want to choose you for his padawan?" He felt like a parrot, but he needed to know.

"He thought about you. He thought about your--Trials--I think the word was. He thought you were not ready for them yet. And because of that he thought of dumping me! To ask someone else to train me, and if nobody could be found to..." The boy looked at him then, his face a mask of rage and Obi-Wan flinched from the blackness gathering around the child. "But he couldn't do that, he couldn't! He would send me back to Tatooine, he would sell me back to Watto! I want to become a Jedi, I saw it in my dreams, I would be a Jedi and come back to free all the slaves. But as long as he loved you more than me, I would never be one." Anakin stilled and looked down again, the Darkness vanishing as if it never had been. "So I made him dump you instead of me."

Obi-Wan stared at the bowed head, still shaken from the Darkness he had felt. But he wouldn't linger on that now. "He would never have 'dumped' you, Anakin. Qui-Gon is a man of honor." When he is in his right mind. Which he was not, thanks to you.

The boy sniffed and shrugged his thin shoulders. "He said that, too."

"He would have found you a place here, somehow. You don't know him, he always gets what he wants." Almost always.

Anakin murmured something and Obi-Wan snapped away from his memories, not believing what he had just heard. "Say that again."

The boy made a face. "I said, but what he wanted was you. Always only you."

Oh, hope! "Anakin," he began, not sure how to ask this. "There was a bond between me and my master..."

"Ah that. That was easy, too. He somehow tuned it down, choked it," he made a gesture with his hand as if pushing a throttle down, "I don't know why, and I thought he would cut it. I mean, he had just said he would take me as his padawan-learner anyway and you were in the way, right? But he wouldn't and I felt he never would and as long as he had that bond with you I couldn't share it. And I wanted it so! It felt so warm. I wanted the love there for me." Anakin looked at him sullenly. "You are a grown up, you don't need him, but I do. I cut the bond. It was easy. I just fitted myself in your place. It worked! It was wonderful! He didn't think of you anymore. He thought of me." He paused there and a shadow fell over his mobile face, washing away a disturbingly gleeful grin. "On the way to Naboo. Something happened there. I was really afraid, Master Qui-Gon was suddenly so ill. And he had nightmares, really scary ones, all about you being killed some way or the other. And he cried after you and I thought he would remember and really was scared for a while. But I learned how to soothe him and after that it got better." There were suddenly tears in the big eyes. "The bond, it felt so good, it was so warm, like with my mom, and I miss her so, and now...now he blocks me."

Obi-Wan stared at the boy in dismay. He tried to feel sorry for him, for losing his mother, for losing his home, for just being so homesick he flung himself at the first person who promised him love and shelter. But he couldn't. He felt sick. He could still see the Darkness gathering over the boy, see his glee, his joy in having tricked his master and getting the better of Obi-Wan. Again he asked himself what this child was. Not the Chosen One. Or was he? Obi-Wan thought about his own feelings concerning the Prophecy. A misunderstood warning. And here they had a child that could go through the shields of a Jedi master as if they were nothing more than morning mist in a garden. Coming to them in the advent of the return of the Sith. What if the Sith lord had any powers similar to this mere boy's? It could be everywhere, in plain view of everybody. It could sit in the Senate, even in the Jedi Council itself, and they would never know until it was too late.

And now the Jedi had found their Chosen One, their champion, someone who manipulated minds without any twinge of conscience, no feeling of doing wrong. Oh, not really meaning ill with it, on the contrary, thinking he did good. And on his homeworld maybe he had really done so. Which did not make it any more right. Which Obi-Wan should know best as he had done wrong himself, had lied and manipulated and even stolen. But he knew the consequences, knew the price his soul paid for it each time, knew how to purge himself of the Dark that lurked in him with any misuse of his powers. As any Jedi did. That was what made them Jedi, after all, the ability to withstand the Darkside again and again, especially that which lay inside one's own heart.

But Anakin was no Jedi. He was an extremely powerful Force-sensitive without any training, without ethics or morals beyond that of a nine-year-old slave-child, without any inkling of what it meant to be Jedi and what made them what they were, who just saw the imagined power, the glory, the adventure.

He was an extraordinarily dangerous Force-sensitive in the guise of a small boy with a beautiful smile and an aura of angelic innocence around him. How much of it was true, how much consciously created illusion? Even now the boy looked at him with eyes much too old.

Are you reading my thoughts, Anakin?

Instantly, the boy's eyes wavered and he looked down onto his tightly fisted hands. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together in dismay. "Anakin, you know that what you have done is against everything the Jedi stand for? You want to be a Jedi? Yes? You are really sure? You have no idea what a Jedi is. A Jedi does not seek power or wealth. Or glory. A Jedi does not feel joy over mind-rape. No, don't look away, that is what you did. A Jedi does not forge links or bonds with unwilling parties."

"Master Yoda said the same."

"And did you believe him?"

"I think so. But Master Qui-Gon would've left me, I only wanted him to stay!"

Back to square one. Obi-Wan sighed and mustered all his patience, prepared to repeat the conversation until the boy saw his error. "He would not have left you, I told you this before."

"But I don't believe you! He thought of giving me away, you hear? You were more important to him than I was! I had to get you away from him!"

"And you succeeded very well!" Obi-Wan's voice rose in reaction to the uncontrolled shouting at him. "And to what end, Anakin? Because of you Master Qui-Gon almost got killed!" Ah, that was uncalled for. Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, seeking his center, asking himself how much of his own anger was still unprocessed and was waiting for a chance to break free. He sank into the feelings until he succeeded in giving his sudden anger to the Force.

"That's not true," Anakin whispered, shaking.

"You ripped a team apart, Anakin, a bonded team. Because of your selfish manipulations he left me behind and faced a Sith-warrior alone. And he almost got killed because I was not there to stand at his side." Amazing how calmly he could say something so inconceivable.

"He didn't die!"

"No. He did not. But no thanks to you, Anakin Skywalker. Jedi always operate in pairs, have done so for one thousand years now. And even if you can't understand it, there is a deeper sense behind it. Qui-Gon was not meant to stand up against a Sith alone. He was not meant to die there. But the latter almost came to pass because of your jealousy of me."

The boy cried now, obviously shaken by what he had told him. "I'm sorry...I didn't want to do anything bad. I didn't mean him to get hurt. I didn't think anything could happen..."

There was an acid reply on Obi-Wan's lips but he couldn't say it into the face of such misery. He sat for a moment, watching the child breaking his heart over what he had caused, feeling his own heart ache in sympathy. Oh, Force, this was just a child. Obi-Wan stretched out a hand and touched the trembling shoulder. "Ani, I..." he began, not sure what to say.

The boy looked up then, tears running down his cheeks. "I didn't...didn't want to hurt him...hurt you..."

"Oh, shit," Obi-Wan murmured and opened his arms, and to his own astonishment the child climbed into his lap and buried himself in his embrace. Obi-Wan murmured comforting nonsense into the bright hair, his own eyes stinging, and rocked the little boy until he fell asleep out of utter exhaustion. After all, just a child.

Chapter IX ------

It was a very subdued Obi-Wan who much later made his way through the moonlit Garden of Stars.

He found Qui-Gon meditating at his favorite spot under the weeping luccustus, the very luccustus which had once sponsored the sapling that grew in the pot on their balcony.

Nightcolored eyes opened and regarded him solemnly as he ducked under the low hanging branches and slid to his knees in front of him.

"Master Yoda asked me to tell you he would take care of the boy from now on," Obi-Wan said after a long while of studying the other man with ever deepening worry.

"That's good to know," Qui-Gon said.

"He also said I should ask you to get some rest."

Qui-Gon's lips curled into a slight smile. "Did he say that?"

Obi-Wan smiled back automatically. "Actually he said: 'See you will that he gets into bed and sleeps. Stubborn he is again. Overtaxing himself he is. Think of something to make him see reason, you will, Obi-Wan.'" Obi-Wan's smile vanished. "Will you rest? Please?" He wanted to say more, but did not know if he should. Qui-Gon looked fatigued; his eyes lay deep in their sockets. Maybe he looked just so pale because of the moonlight. But it disturbed Obi-Wan, nevertheless, as it was only yesterday that he had seen his master submerged in bacta, just a few heartbeats away from death. In his earlier turmoil he hadn't thought about it anymore, but Qui-Gon should be in bed, for days and days, resting, recuperating and not running through the Temple, getting buried under problems and waiting up for him half the night.

Qui-Gon still smiled. "I would like to sit here for a while, if you don't mind, Obi-Wan. It's peaceful here."

Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, knowing he wouldn't sway Qui-Gon if he wanted to sit here till the sun rose. Silence descended on them while Obi-Wan studied his fingers and searched for words to express what lay heavily as lead on his heart and mind. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he looked up through his lashes to find Qui-Gon had closed his eyes again, looking calm and serene as if he were meditating. But he wasn't as Obi-Wan knew and he worried even more, wishing he could just order the stubborn man into bed and leave the problems for tomorrow. Obi-Wan wished he could order himself to do the same. But how could he get what he'd just learnt out of his mind.

"Master?"

Lashes wavered but the eyes did not open. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"What will happen to the boy now?"

"That will be the Council's decision to make. Master Yoda said to me it would be just a matter of learning to see what was hidden before. And I think he already does. At least he didn't seem too worried."

Learning to see the hidden. If someone could, then it was Master Yoda.

"Will Anakin be trained to be Jedi?" Obi-Wan tried to understand why he felt disquiet at the thought. His premonition had had to do with Anakin--and if he listened into himself he felt it flare--when thinking of Anakin being a Jedi knight.

"I'm sure he will stay here in the Temple," Qui-Gon said. "We have a lot to teach him and he has a lot to learn, and even more to unlearn." He looked up and studied Obi-Wan's face as if reading him, as if he felt his disquiet. "But if you mean will he become a knight...I don't think so. Maybe if he had come to us as a baby. As it is...the TechCorps would be best for him, I believe. That is where his true talents lie--and I believe also his heart. If guided with love and patience, I'm sure he will find to his true calling." Which was not to become a Jedi knight then. It sounded a good alternative--what Obi-Wan had heard about the boy's prowess as engineer and pilot was astounding. The more he thought about it the more it sounded right. Right. He felt the shadows on his heart lift a little.

The ones that stayed were about himself. He had so much to say to his master. Had to tell him everything that had happened, needed to unburden his heart. But where should he begin? It was all still so incomprehensible.

"Obi-Wan? I feel your need--to speak with me?" Qui-Gon asked softly into the quiet, startling Obi--Wan out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I do. I do." He searched for words, to describe his thoughts, but finding none. "I don't know what to say," he confessed after a moment in utter frustration, feeling foolish for having stated the obvious.

"Maybe you should write it down then?" There was a sparkle now under the barely opened lids. Oh, Master, I'm not in the mood for humor, Obi-Wan thought. He shook his head, searching for a beginning, what he wanted to say most, what pressed him most--

"Master, I...that is, I...please forgive me," he pleaded and held out his hands, palms up. "Forgive me for doubting you, for not realizing there was something wrong, for not knowing you would never hurt me..." As through a broken dam the words gushed from him and he only stopped to take a deep breath which opportunity Qui-Gon took to place a finger over his lips.

"Shh," he said, silencing Obi-Wan effectively. "There is nothing to forgive, my Padawan." Qui-Gon's eyes opened wearily. "Your reactions were very understandable and I know how hard it can be for a wounded mind to see. Or even more so, for a wounded heart." Qui-Gon let his fingers run down over Obi-Wan's chin. To Obi-Wan's regret, they left his skin and dropped away, rejoining the other hand in his lap. Qui-Gon bent his head. "I, on the other side, have every reason, to ask you--"

Obi-Wan was as fast to interrupt his master as he had done with him, with a hand to his lips, soft and warm under his sensitive skin of his fingers. "No. No, Master. Nothing of this was your fault, I understand it now." That didn't seem to be enough to convince his master; Obi-Wan realized he would need the words, the acknowledgment. It was easy to give, he found. Now. He caught Qui-Gon's eyes with his, holding them.

"I forgive you," he said solemnly, with all the earnestness of his heart. He saw Qui-Gon understood this was the belated answer to his earlier plea and vow. The older man started to say something, but instead he took Obi-Wan's hand from his lips and placed a little kiss on the knuckles. Obi-Wan shivered at the contact. There was something in his master's eyes, an impression he had seen before. Often. If never this unchecked and open, never without having Qui-Gon look away before he could be sure of having seen anything at all, or even begun to understand the thoughts or feelings behind it. Qui-Gon smiled and brought Obi-Wan's hand down with his own, to rest in his lap. He blinked and looked down at Obi-Wan's shoulder and Obi-Wan saw him swallow nervously...no, not nervously: that was no emotion he associated with this man. Obi-Wan looked down to what gave Qui-Gon this curious air of edgy wistfulness...his braid. He glanced up through his lashes again. Of course. Are you so unsure of my answer that you cannot ask? Are you so unsure my forgiveness will reach this far?

Obi-Wan closed his fingers around the hand that was loosely holding his and led it up and made the long fingers take hold of his braid. Qui-Gon's eyes flicked up to him and to Obi-Wan's dismay there was trepidation in them...Force, did he think Obi-Wan wanted to--

"Qui-Gon Jinn," he began, taking up the vow where they had left it off--mere hours ago? It seemed like years. "I accept your vow and take you as my Master, to guide me in the ways of the Light." Oh, it was glorious to see the feelings chase each other in Qui-Gon's eyes. "Until the day I can stand as your equal, Knight to Knight," he finished in a whisper, as Qui-Gon leant forward and laid his lips against his brow, Obi-Wan's skin tingling at the contact. He forgot to breathe.

"Thank you," his master whispered against his skin. It was humbling, it was redeeming to know Qui-Gon really wanted him as much as he wanted Qui-Gon...Could there be anything more he could wish for...there was. There was still something amiss. He looked down at the big hand he held to his braid. His skin tickled wherever it met the other's. There was something he longed for with all the yearning of his lonely soul that called for the lost bond.

Thinking of it made it worse. Sitting next to the one who could quench his thirst took it to the threshold of unbearable. Too long used to bearing this pain alone, he let go of the hand as if it burned and wrapped his arms around himself as if to ward off the cold night air. But, the cold was inside, and he realized he couldn't control the slight tremor that now found its way from the depth of his molecules to the surface of his skin. He almost jumped out of that skin as hot fingers closed around his chin, asking without pressure to raise his head again.

"My Obi-Wan? Tell me?" He looked up then, eyes wide and if Qui-Gon's facial expression was a reaction to his own, he must look like a startled flehet caught in a spotlight. But through the contact there was also an instant connection again and the trembling lessened immediately, but the other thing, the compulsion to merge with the other mind was growing even stronger, if that was possible. Qui-Gon's gaze glazed over for a moment, his mind brushing against Obi-Wan's and then he grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"You fool, why haven't you said something," Qui-Gon chided softly, "you need not endure alone anymore."

"I have no right..." Obi-Wan tensed, trying to resist the lure, ashamed of his need and dependence.

"No right?" Exasperated now, Qui-Gon caught his eyes in his own magnetic gaze. "You are my padawan. You have every right."

With this Qui-Gon just opened his arms to him and Obi-Wan stared at that offered haven and was again awash with shame to find nothing in him that would withstand this, his childish need, his...

"Stop that, Padawan. And come here."

Pushing the little voice into the back of his mind Obi-Wan scrambled forward to Qui-Gon's side. A long arm gathered him in and he found himself pressed up against the firm, warm body of his master. Giving up any further pretense Obi-Wan slung his arms tightly around the trim waist and buried his face in the folds of the older man's tunics. "Dearest one," Qui-Gon murmured against his hair, "do you really think it's different for me? I'm just better at hiding--" All shields seemed to collapse around them and their minds met. Obi-Wan groaned and tried to crawl nearer yet. The arms holding him tightened around him, creating a cage of warmth and belonging. Obi-Wan reached out then, fully expecting to find their training-bond reforging itself.

But what he found was not the bond he knew. In the way his mind tried to understand the incorporeal, the training-bond had been a vision of a thick tow made of millions of axons, twisted like a metal cable, like a hawser binding a ship to the wharf, one end anchored in every cell of his mind, the other reaching through the Sea, the Force to the place that held him anchored in this world, the strong, unshakable mind of his master.

The last time he had dared a look at it, it had been a splintered, burning ruin, sputtering energy in hissing clouds of vaporized life-force. But now there was a new strand, a frighteningly fragile, thin thread of gossamer, but still carrying so much emotion and warmth to him now. But their training-bond was broken, he knew it, he thought he knew it, and as he tried to feel along the tiny strand to Qui-Gon, he found--there was a sudden wash of thought in his mind that didn't originate from himself, and at the same time was totally different than all he had felt and experienced with Qui-Gon before. Puzzled he tried again to reach out and was blocked immediately. The stranger's thoughts were making sense then: Qui-Gon was already bonded, had another training-bond--a thick one, a fully functional one with someone else and not just a fragile echo of something that once had been, its beauty faded and insubstantial against the new, black-shining carbonfiber cord running to the source of the undisciplined thoughts that echoed in the empty cavern of his mind, I want it so much, I want it back, I want...

Anakin.

"No!" he heard himself say aloud and it broke the spell. He pulled out of their mental connection, out of Qui-Gon's arms. "No!"

Qui-Gon didn't let him go farther away than arms-length; his hands did not loosen their grip on his shoulders even as he tried to shrug them away.

"Obi-Wan. Calm yourself!" His master's voice reigned him into automatic obedience and he stopped struggling but didn't look up. "Obi-Wan. Hear me. This is only temporary. That bond will be dissolved."

"Bonds are never--dissolved," Obi-Wan whispered hopelessly, forced to look up when his face was enclosed in big hands. "They are sacred, they are Force-willed."

"No, Obi-Wan. That bond is definitely not Force-willed. It was not naturally formed and it will be dissolved. Master Yoda will assist. Tomorrow. When all have had a chance to rest." He stared with all of his considerable intensity into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Tomorrow we will join again, my Obi-Wan."

Tomorrow. Obi-Wan gazed into the earnest eyes of his teacher and believed. He didn't resist when the hands drew him into the robe's folds again, when a hand on the back of his head insisted his face rest in the crook of the other man's neck, making him feel the strong, fast pulse of life against his forehead. Warmth and affection seeped steadily into his mind. Obi-Wan basked in its silken downpour as he did in the physical warmth cradling him. It was puzzling. It almost felt like the training-bond. And then again not. Cautiously he let his thoughts touch it again--halfway expecting to feel once more the chilling strangeness. With the calm of the mind cradling him, he dared open his mind's eye again and he could see it, that strand of gossamer, thin and fine and shimmering not only in the known electric-blue of the Force, but also in colors he hadn't seen before, its resonance in a flavor unknown, sparkling like a dew sprinkled spider's web, as beautiful and as endlessly vulnerable. There was a low humming pulse filling him, subsonic, coming out of the depth of his cells, the depth of the universe, so low, so low, yet so powerful. Like a weaver's shuttle it wove something into the tapestry of his mind. With a mental finger he touched the strand tentatively, felt it tingle, felt it chiming in a cascade of tiny silver bells.

Qui-Gon shivered in his arms.

"You can see it?" his master asked with wonder in his voice, sounding as awed as Obi-Wan felt.

"Yes," he murmured, still looking inside, not getting his fill. "It's like the training-bond. But it's thinner and much more beautiful. It feels different, too. I cannot describe it."

Fingers stroked circles over his temple. "Another bond is forming between us, Obi-Wan."

"But you said..."

"Not a training-bond, my friend."

Obi-Wan's confusion needed no verbal outlet; he knew he was radiating it like fever. Qui-Gon held him closer still. His voice was more inside than outside, his breath like a hot breeze along the crown of his head: "The beginnings of a soul-bond."

A soul-bond. Impossible. Unbelievable. Even more than he had ever dared dream of sharing with this beloved man.

"It would explain a lot," Qui-Gon murmured. "You had your elders all puzzled and very worried with your extraordinarily strong reaction to the severance of our bond, you know. But now I think we were forming a soul-bond even then. And an unassisted breaking of a soul-bond...Oh, Obi-Wan, I wish I could have spared you that." Qui-Gon's voice wavered. "And nobody saw it? It's almost unbelievable. Your elders made a grave error and if I weren't as guilty of blindness as they, I would demand consequences. As it is, you were nearer to madness than you ever knew, my Padawan."

"They were kind to me. They did not know," he whispered. He felt cold again. Thinking of the well-remembered pain and confusion was not at all the best thing he could do. But the memories wouldn't go away, once evoked. Nearer to madness than he ever knew. He thought he knew all too well. "I was mad. After you left for Naboo, I was frantic, totally out of my mind."

"I'm so very sorry, you had to go through this." He felt Qui-Gon press his cheek to his head, felt a wave of regret and love washing over him, soothing the hurt like balm.

"And I am glad you did not see me then," he whispered brokenly, basking in the care but nevertheless undone by the memories that flashed through his mind.

"It's all right. You need not tell me, if you don't want to," Qui-Gon reassured him, obviously feeling his rising disquiet.

"No, no. I will tell you. I don't know if I will have the courage again, another time."

The words came out in a rush, feelings and thoughts intermingled into an inseparable morass of confusion and hurt. It sounded psychotic in his own ears, shameful and pathetic but he went on, needing to get it all out, needing masochistically to bare his soul to his master, to let him see the bloody footprints he had left after walking on the broken glass shards his mind had become, to hand him over the shreds of the logical, calm, Force-centered mind his master had helped him build.

He moved out of Qui-Gon's embrace and turned his face away as he had ended. "But that was not what I really wanted to tell you. Master, I shamed your teachings with my actions. I did not think, I ran on pure instinct and was so sure the Force was guiding me, was telling me what to do..."

"It was, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said huskily from behind him.

"It was?" Obi-Wan let out a quivering, humorless laugh. "I thought it was. But I was too slow, too late, too weak. I was no help at all. What was it the Force had wanted me to do? I thought I was to rescue you. In my arrogance I thought I was to rescue you. But in the end, in the end you saved me, do you remember that? You saved me."

"And I know that without you I would be quite dead, my Padawan."

"But--" Firm hands on his shoulders silenced him.

"No. You came after me. You brought me home. You saved me two times over. Blessed I am, Padawan, blessed to have someone who loves me that much."

Obi-Wan sat still then, listening to the feelings that flew into him from the other man. They matched his own in astounding detail--

"We will talk about it again, when the wounds are healed, my Obi-Wan. All will be well, I promise you. And right now we need to rest. Tomorrow will be here sooner than our bodies would like." Qui-Gon rearranged his robe around him and reclined in the grass with a weary sigh.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought Master Yoda said I should get some rest?"

"But not here--"

"Quiet, Padawan. Now it is my turn to ask you to listen to me. Just trust me, will you?"

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan didn't resist when the hands on his shoulders tugged him back into the solid warmth of the older man's body. He buried his hands under Qui-Gon's tabard, let them feel the high-running life throbbing against his icy fingertips. He waited for Qui-Gon to go on with whatever he wanted to tell him, but his master just lay there silently, enveloping him with his being and thus speaking louder to him than any words ever could. He listened intently as he gave in to the now, basked in the strong aura, and let himself be lulled into dreamless sleep by the slow heartbeat under his ear.

Chapter X ------

They met in the round, high domed salle at the heart of the Temple.

Yoda sat on a mat in the middle of the mosaic-covered rondo with Anakin Skywalker huddling beside him, looking as small as the ancient master. Around them in a circle sat several people: Masters Depa Billaba and Yarael Poof of the Council, Knights Roo-Nai Kamono and Nas-Su' Venta, Soul-Healer Heiken Assarinan as well as two other healers Obi-Wan had seen before but didn't knew the names of. It was power that had gathered here, the strongest adepts of the Temple. Dread trickled down his back when he understood what kind of trouble the masters were expecting.

Yoda looked up at them and gestured with his gimerstick. "Come to me, you shall."

With a hand placed against his back Obi-Wan was led to a small pallet before the two small figures. Qui-Gon pressed him gently down on it and folded his length in beside him. Instantly Obi-Wan felt the air prickle and tighten as the adepts wove a Force-shield around them. Heiken was joining them, placing herself behind Qui-Gon and the boy. Nothing was said as she reached out and laid her hands on their heads, urging Qui-Gon to bend towards the boy and down enough so she could make their foreheads touch. Anakin looked scared for a moment, then he relaxed, closing his eyes as Qui-Gon had already done. Obi-Wan felt as the soul healer joined them into a shared trance.

The universe seemed to stop around the tableau, the Force falling around them like a blanket of water, frozen in motion. The little awareness he had of Qui-Gon had the quality of deepest meditation: still and calm and far, far away.

After a while the cocoon of stilled space tightened and Obi-Wan had the impression he should be able to see the Force, so concentrated as it was right before him, calling to him. Mesmerized he reached out to it, closed his outer eyes and opened his inner self to it--only to get slapped mentally as well as physically, as Yoda bore down on him.

Do not touch them! he was warned and he bowed under the will of the master. Still connected with Yoda he watched as Heiken worked. He saw the creases that appeared on all three faces. Saw Qui-Gon grit his teeth, saw a vein swell in his temple, the only visible signs of the inner stress he was under.

Anakin moaned and became agitated, his fingers twitching, his lips curling back over his teeth. Another of the healers stood up and placed himself behind the boy, putting his hands on his shoulders. Almost instantly Anakin became quiet again and Obi-Wan's eyes flew back to the profile of his master. Sweat ran down Qui-Gon's high forehead. Then Heiken looked up and nodded at Yoda. Patting Obi-Wan once the little master hitched nearer to Anakin.

Then everything happened at once.

Anakin cried out while Qui-Gon let go a small moan. The Force distorted around them and the two healers clamped down on the boy who flayed his arms now like a drowning man, shrieking in eardrum-splitting wails.

Obi-Wan's eyes were on the boy but his body closed the distance between him and his hunched over master, whose aura was fluttering like a windlight. Without conscious thought he cradled the big man's head in his arms and held him close, sheltering him, his self reaching out to the hurting man unconditionally.

He saw as Anakin's head came up, his eyes fixed on Master Yoda. There was a palpable aura gathering around the ancient master, a halo of warmth, shelter, belonging, acceptance and welcome. Obi-Wan felt the allure himself, knew his body moved a little in Yoda's direction, was aware of the bodies around him, who all swayed inwards, sucked up into Yoda's aura as if drawn into the gravity well of a bright star. Anakin moved too, like iron to a magnet, his eyes fixed on depthless green ones--he closed the distance between them in the space of a thought and all but tried to meld with the source as he wrapped his body around Master Yoda. Gnarled fingers held fast as he gathered the boy in like a baby, pressing his own wrinkled face into the blond hair. The Force tightened around them, closing in the two and shutting the rest of them out.

Qui-Gon moaned softly, a flutter of hot breath against his neck, and went limp in Obi-Wan's arms. All of his concentration centered back on his master and Obi-Wan wrapped his mind as tightly around him as his heart. He felt Qui-Gon's hurt, felt the burning coldness in his mind where the bond with Anakin had resided, false as it had been, and moved to this place, stepping through layers of shielding as through gossamer veils fluttering in the wind, grazing over his skin, tingling, but parting before him without resistance.

His outer self saw Qui-Gon lifting his head and locked his eyes with the burning wells of darkest blue. His inner self reached the source of hurt in Qui-Gon's soul and just melted into it; he let himself go, instinctively knowing how to stop the pain, how to heal the wound, how to fill darkness with light. The outstretched fingers of his mental projection met the other's in a flash of blue surging energy, the Force the medium, the source, all they were. Force-dendrites connected, fused, washed through them in a wave of boundless euphoria. Obi-Wan gave all of himself as he had never been taught, as nobody could teach but the Force itself and Qui-Gon met him all the way. Wonder was in the wordless thoughts of his master, awe and humility before the Force, as well as joy of a magnitude that it brought tears to Obi-Wan's forgotten physical self.

Yes, this was it. This was what had been missing to make him complete in the Force. He had never been whole, had always only been a part, a third of a being. He heard this thought in himself as well as in Qui-Gon, wrapped together in the universal energy of the cosmos.

A picture began to form before him, swirling in an endless dance. At first he thought he saw the double-helix of genes but then he saw it was made of three strings instead of two. Of course. Two strings just matter, a simple combination of atoms, no different in earth and water, and the one which was bringing them together, fusing them to the ultimate mystery, to Life. Three strands of a braid--like the braid of a padawan. Symbol of what was to be. Growing until the young ones could combine their outer self and inner self with the Force. Three to one. Training-bond.

And this accomplished, there was more...being again one string of a greater braid, being a fusion with the Force himself, reaching out to another such fusioned string, twisting around it, touching everywhere and feeling again the Force sneaking between them, manifested, plaiting them together into something that was greater than any universe could be. This was no training-bond. This was legend, this was soul-bond.

Joy much too great to be contained filled him, his mind drunken with euphoria, his inner arms tight around his master, the love rushing through him from his own heart and even hotter from Qui-Gon's, feelings wrapping around them which had no names in the outer world as there were no concepts.

Obi-Wan felt a nudge then, something tugging at him from the outside. He clung nearer to Qui-Gon, felt mental arms tighten around him as well. But whatever was pulling at them was insisting and reluctantly they parted, awareness reaching outside again.

Obi-Wan swam up and his senses filled him with the smell of Qui-Gon, let him feel the soft press of wet skin against his lips, the hot wind of breath against his face.

He opened his eyes, sight rushing in on him, shapeless at first then becoming clear as his lenses began to focus. Lashes fluttered and opened over shining blue, blinking, looking at him, seeing him, sucking him again into the bottomless well of black the blue surrounded.

"No, no, not again, stay with us, Obi-Wan," a voice insisted, a sharp slap to his hypersensitive ears.

A hand came between his eyes and Qui-Gon's, breaking their connection.

"Qui-Gon. Come out of it. Heiken, hold them apart..." Obi-Wan felt light-headed, his mind grabbing after the lost connection, unable to hold on...he felt darkness rush up to him and knew no more.

Chapter XI ------

Obi-Wan lay drowsily on his side, not really awake nor asleep, looking out into the twilight of the room, the lights of the traffic outside running over walls and furniture, his thoughts drifting languidly--the long arm over his waist tightened and drew him close against the body behind him.

His heart made a double flip in surprise and pleasure, but the rest of him lay still, boneless, just basking in the nearness, in the security he felt, the comfort--the thrill, when the arm again moved and the hand tunneled in the loose folds of his undertunic, fingertips touching his bare flesh like little spots of lava--

Qui-Gon moaned and buried his face into his nape, his hot breath making Obi-Wan shiver. "Wha--?" Qui-Gon murmured, surprise in his sleepy mind, and then his movements stilled, even his breath, and Obi-Wan knew he was coming awake.

"Padawan?" the deep voice rumbled in his ear. Obi-Wan petted the hand on his stomach, feeding quiet and calm and warmth over their bond.

"Everything's all right. Go to sleep again..." It was a sign of the depth of his master's trust--and fatigue--that he just did so.

Obi-Wan on the other side was more awake now. He had no idea how he had come to be here in Qui-Gon's bed, in Qui-Gon's arms. Touching their bond had brought back a lot of memories of the day, but not to the point of their return to their rooms. And it was obviously night, not day. But that was of little consequence anyway, no matter if they had walked themselves or others had carried them here. Outshining all puzzlement and lingering sleepiness was one thought: They had reforged their bond. Reforged their lives...Obi-Wan smiled at the phrase, the word: reforged. A word that implied the hammering of two unbending parts into one. But this...he had dreamt they had just entwined gently, stresslessly, seamlessly--like the strands of a braid. Obi-Wan touched his padawan plait, held it before his eyes but in the gloom it was no more than a uniformly dark strip and it was his fingertips that transmitted to him the familiar regular design of tightly interwoven hair. It was intriguing how his mind had again tried to create understandable visions and concepts for which there were no words, no images, no tactical senses to match it against. Eyes and ears and fingers could not comprehend the Force. Only the mind could--and the heart.

And this moment his mind as well as his heart were telling him how comfortable it was to be held in the warm haven of the long arms, their bodies in close contact. There was the wish it could be always so, that he could wake up in this security every morning. That it would be the most normal thing in the world to turn around and snuggle his face into the other's hair...to kiss the warm lips into wakefulness...to taste the sweet and salt of his skin--

Obi-Wan caught himself before he could succumb to this seductive daydream. He knew the other man loved him, had seen his heart when they rebonded--but love and being in love were two pairs of shoes altogether. And above all, or underlying all, as it was the base of everything they were, these were dangerous thoughts, these were inappropriate thoughts and feelings to be ruled by. Passionate love did not fit into a relationship of teacher and student, a sacrosanct trust never infringed upon. Serenity over passion. Only when serenity was reached could there be passion. These were the tenets he had been taught and believed in with a personal, feverish intensity: Serenity over anger, serenity over fear--his personal struggle, his lifelong lesson. And he was still learning, would be always learning, but willingly. He would not dare approach Qui-Gon with passion before he had mastered himself, before he could offer him a mind as fine-tuned and balanced as his body was already becoming.

Serenity was the key to many things, he knew: to mastering the Do-Yami Kata, to understanding the Zhibwenian Paradox, to communing with the Living Force. And he knew the last days were not the best example of his growing mastership. The broken bond, Qui-Gon had said. The broken soul-bond. Obi-Wan was not sure he accepted this answer totally; there was guilt and embarrassment and shame and disappointment in himself that he could not dismiss so easily. He could not forget the memories of how he had acted, the last night in the garden foremost in his mind. And what was the only thought and want he had when he woke up? Wanting nothing more but to snuggle deeper into Qui-Gon's warmth? The same yesterday night in the garden--there he had demonstrated that wish quite openly, had sought shelter in his master's arms and mind like a frightened child. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth at this shaming memory. And he really had the gall to even think of kissing that man, of making love to him? Qui-Gon had taken him in like a child, he had acted like one, and he was delusional to think his master would see him differently--and if he ever had done so before, he had surely destroyed it with his loud demonstration of insecurity and dependence.

Obi-Wan needed to move, to move out of the warmth, the nearness he did not deserve. Carefully, he slipped out from under the long arm and slid out of the bed. He tucked the quilt back in around the sleeper, wishing he had mastered the art already and could see him better in the gloom; grateful he could not.

On silent feet he went over to the window and sat on the broad sill. He tried to concentrate on the flickering lights outside but found his eyes returning to the shadows of the room, to the form lying under the blankets.

There was an urge, small at first but very insistent, to return to his master, to make contact again. That must be the growing soul-bond, this filament that wound around their new training-bond like a blossoming vine around a tree. It was strong; he felt its call growing in strength the longer he sat apart, finding he had moved to stand before he even thought about it. Annoyed Obi-Wan pulled his legs back up onto the sill and snuggled his knees against his chest, his arms like bindings around them. It was rather obvious now how they had ended in bed together if that urge to merge was not reigned in with a conscious mind. Was that normal for soul-bondings? Training-bonds certainly didn't work that way; he had not felt this when he'd first bonded with Qui-Gon all those years ago. Must be so, then.

He wondered how it would affect their relationship as apprentice and master. Would their new closeness bleed over into their professional partnership and would it be an asset or a hindrance? Should it be the latter--they would find a way to overcome it; Obi-Wan was determined that nothing, no personal feelings, no bond, should come between their duties as Jedi.

But what if this urge for union would not lessen with time? Their soul-bond was just forming, how would it be when it was fully functional? He had heard the pull of a full soul-bond was very strong. Made it difficult to part for long--

But he would part with his master.

Would have to leave him.

When his time came, when he made it to knight, he would have to leave him for his required First Year quest. In that time he wouldn't be allowed to see his then former master, not even to hear from him, would stay out in the field, hunting from mission to mission. It was supposed to be about gaining true independence and the forging of character and finding of self through hardship.

A trying time, but worth it, as his master had once commented about his own First Year.

A trying time without the training-bond that would have dissolved by that time. The state of the training-bond marked his readiness for his Trials, but the soul-bond--it would never leave him all alone, even ten-thousands of light-years away from his master, not ever again...Obi-Wan frowned. Bond or no bond he would stand his Trials, eventually, but the rest...Would the soul-bond let him reach the necessary independence from his master? Or would it render the whole First Year idea worthless?

"Not worthless," Qui-Gon murmured, startling Obi-Wan out of his reveries.

"You should be asleep."

"You're upset, how can I sleep?" Qui-Gon moved out of bed, very slowly, and came over to him, his warm hand settling on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The contact made his soul sing, the urge stilled into a content hum. A blessing, an annoyance. It would be so easy to give in and wrap his arms around the trim waist, to bury his head in the loose cloth over Qui-Gon's chest, to breath in the sweetness of his sleep-warm body. To merge again, to vanish in him, to feel the smooth skin of his body...his heart sped up at his fantasy, blood rushing through his body in a hot wake, making his groin pulse in an instant. Ashamed by the thoughts, by his reaction, by his lack of control and propriety Obi-Wan slid from the window sill and onto his knees.

"Master, I have shamed you with my behavior."

"Why do you think so?" Qui-Gon asked, his hoarse voice a whisper in the gloom above him.

"I behaved unmannerly. Last night, tonight, now. I acted like a little child. Wanting and taking, egoistically, inappropriate, selfishly, thoughtless. I shamed your teachings. Shamed myself."

"Nothing you could do would make me be ashamed of you, my Padawan."

"But you must resent me for my clinging--"

"I'm just glad I could be there when you needed me. And I'm glad there was enough of you left to have need of me."

"That need was childish..."

"It was borderline madness, my Padawan. If you didn't have such a strong mind, such a strong personality and such a brave heart, I fear I might have lost you."

"I was not brave..."

"You aren't listening to me, Padawan. A broken bond will not be denied, a soul-bond--" Qui-Gon sighed. "I'm immeasurably glad for the stubborn soul that you are. Too stubborn to quit even in the face of insurmountable odds. I am proud of you, my Padawan." Qui-Gon reached up and took hold of his chin and made him lift his head to meet his eyes. "I'm the happiest soul to have such a brave man as my apprentice, my friend, my comrade, my..." The palm cradled his cheek and without thinking Obi-Wan turned his face and placed a kiss on the soft flesh. Startling himself with his daring, Obi-Wan fell back on his haunches, out of Qui-Gon's grip--he must be crazy...

There was a long silence. He heard Qui-Gon settle on his knees before him. A touch on his thigh.

"We have to talk about this."

Oh, what had he done..."Yes, let's talk. Master," he said hastily, his mind searching for an escape route. "Please, tell me, ahm, why do you think my First Year will not be worthless." He desperately changed the topic, fearing their closeness would end. Fearing he had blown it.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I know, Master. Tell me nevertheless, please."

Qui-Gon stared at him for a while; he could feel his eyes on his bowed head like burning fingers.

"As you wish," his master relented, mercifully. "You will not be the first padawan with a soul-bond who will pass his Trials and be sent out on his First Year, my Obi-Wan. There are precedents. And from the accounts I have heard...compared to my own experiences you will be far worse off than I was. The yearning will be quite strong--"

"I can deal with that," Obi-Wan assured. He had done so for a long time now, he would manage.

"I'm sure you can. But there will be neurological problems too. Migraines. I fear you will have to endure a lot of pain--"

"I'm not afraid of pain."

"I know you're not. You are a very brave person. And I know you will stand all trials the Council or the Force will ask you to take. I know you will become a great knight, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan dared look up and revelled in the pride and confidence he found in his teacher's eyes.

"I will endeavor to become what you need me to be," he said seriously.

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "I'm know you will. But, Padawan, you must become what you need to be. Let the Force be your guide and not your desire to please me. If you trust in the Force, you'll find that you can be more than you ever dreamt of being."

"Then I will become what the Force needs me to be, Master. And hope that it's what you need, too."

He felt something from Qui-Gon, swiftly shielded--a very uncomfortable feeling with a bond so new. "What I need, Padawan, is of no consequence."

That was not what Obi-Wan had felt. It had been..."It matters a great deal to me, Qui-Gon," he ventured, unsure, searching his master's face. "And please, do not shield against me. It hurts."

Qui-Gon looked at him through lowered lashes. Then he shut his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if giving in to something inevitable...his shields came down. The familiar warmth flooded through their bond, colored his aura, care, love, something else. A something that snaked its way down into Obi-Wan's heart, setting it on fire and going further, settling between his legs with the singing of slowburning desire. Desire. Oh, Force. Obi-Wan reached out and dipped Qui-Gon's face up, urging him to meet his eyes. What he knew to be deep blue was black in the twilight, the pupils large, their expression soft, velvet--utterly familiar.

He could have laughed, he could have cried as he understood.

His eyes, trained to see through strangers' subterfuge and lies didn't see as well when turned to the one being nearest to his heart. His eyes, clouded by his own emotions, had readily created their own reality, calling it wishful thinking and so had never fully recognized the true emotions in the other's eyes behind the cautiously diffused labels that said care and love for the child, the cherished apprentice.

All or nothing now, Obi-Wan dared himself and smiled, if not very convincingly as he felt his lips quiver: "I had planned to ask you to take the life-vows with me. At my knighting."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "You must not think we must become lovers because of the soul-bond..."

"You don't want me?" Very calmly asked. Much more calmly than Obi-Wan felt. Qui-Gon shook his head, not in denial, more in wonder as it seemed, his hand reaching out to caress Obi-Wan's cheek. The touch spelling out what words did not: Want. Longing. Desire. But--

"I won't take advantage of you. I cannot, I will not."

"I know that." He didn't want it differently. Their vows stood firm, the terms of their relationship untouchable.

"You are still so young..."

Obi-Wan bristled at that, denial fast on his lips--but he listened to what the bond was telling him and his tongue stilled. Qui-Gon was still not shielding, was giving his own fears into his care. The fear Obi-Wan loved him only because of the bond, or out of hero-worship, or a misplaced sense of loyalty. Thought himself too old, too uncomely for someone as Light-filled, as shining, as beautiful as...

Obi-Wan blushed with combined shyness and pleasure about the unaccustomed compliment, about the depth of feelings the bond was feeding him. No misunderstandings anymore. But he felt also sorrow that Qui-Gon would think so little of himself, would harbor such a basic human insecurity under his self-assuredness, would need to know he was not only loved for his heart and soul, but desired for his body, too.

He covered the hand on his face with his own, his gaze caressing the pale, too wide features, the deep-set eyes, the broken nose, the gray-flecked beard...no, his master wasn't an extraordinarily good looking man, not in the classical sense. He was just himself. Commanding. Magnificent. Gorgeous. And with his hair down, his eyes sparkling with the blinding brightness of the soul behind them, his expressive lips forming a tender smile, he was--

"Beautiful. You are beautiful, Qui-Gon," he whispered. "I wish I could show you how beautiful you are to me, I wish I could make love to you to show you how precious you are to me..." And see me reflected in your passion-glazed eyes, to hear you cry out my name when you come...his body reacted to his thoughts, desire sizzling down from his heart to his cock, but it was second nature for him to quell it and give it to the Force and his body quietened almost before it had any chance to react at all. He waited anxiously for the answer, his heart in this throat, his eyes glued to the other ones, his senses concentrated on that one point of contact between them, the tickling where long fingers cradled his chin.

"My Obi-Wan, I don't deserve you," Qui-Gon said, but his eyes were shining with pleasure.

"I thought the same, only the other way around."

Qui-Gon shook his head, his lips quirking up in self-depreciating humor. "We are a pair, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," Obi-Wan said very seriously, felt his eyes brimming with the love and hope he could not contain in his heart. The older man's intense gaze searched his face, his eyes, hopefully finding what he was looking for.

"My Obi-Wan," he said, a simple statement of possessiveness, welcome, easily granted. "Ask me again when--ask me again on your knighting day." Not a rejection, an invitation. The soul-blue eyes sparkled at him, telling him he would not be denied.

"You would..."

"On your knighting day, my Padawan."

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss into the palm, this time allowed, welcomed, desired as he knew by the beautiful smile on the expressive lips that one day would be his to worship. Another kiss in confirmation, a third, a vow. "I will."

Epilogue ------

Obi-Wan stood behind the pilot watching as their ship set down before the Temple. He must have let go a sigh because the woman chuckled. "Nothing like home, eh, sir?" she commented, turning to him smiling.

"Yes, Captain, nothing," he said, smiling back. "I thank you for agreeing to this detour and wish you good trading on Malastare."

"Was a pleasure. Always to the Jedi service."

With a handclasp they parted and Obi-Wan stepped out in the warm evening air, exposing his senses to the not really pleasant but familiar smells and sounds of Coruscant.

Walking up the wide stairs leading to the Temple's main portal, Obi-Wan's eyes were drawn up to the long row of twenty-meter high arches, covered with faiences in green and blue, their colors still bright, their glazing shiny after almost thirty-two centuries. His master loved old architecture, and on many occasions had found a surprising number of adjectives for this old faade. The younger Obi-Wan had certainly been awed by its age but favored steel and glass and the clearer lines of more modern styles. But with time he had learned to open his mind and his eyes--and very recently his heart--to beauty in all its manifestations and begun to see what his master saw. His master...stepping through the high arches he couldn't withstand the temptation to cast his mind out for Qui-Gon--and frowned in disappointment as he felt he was not near enough to be in the Temple itself. His master's mind was shielded; the sensation he got over their bond was of tightly focused concentration. Respecting the shields Obi-Wan made his overeager heart slow down to normal again and dispersed his feelings into the Force. That had to wait, he had his own obligations. Coming home from a mission, a Jedi's first duty was to the Council.

The knight secretary bid Obi-Wan a warm welcome home but wouldn't announce him to Master Yoda. The Council was in closed session of undetermined length but he got the assurance he would be set on the schedule for tomorrow. Obi-Wan asked for the whereabouts of his former master and was told Master Jinn was on some errand for Chancellor Valorum, but should be back tonight or latest in the morning.

One more night then, what was one more night. As his body's circadian rhythm was out of sync with the Temple's own planetary time zone, Obi-Wan decided to spend the night meditating.

Hands in the arms of his robe, he walked slowly to the Garden of Stars, preferring the broad, winding stairs to the lifts. His mind quiet, he let his senses become familiar again with the fresh scent of herbs overlying more earthy tones of incense, the almost inaudible click of his boot heels on the blue-veined marble, the distant laughter echoing in otherwise silent hallways.

At the entrance to the garden, a low stone arch overgrown with shadowfriend, Obi-Wan stood for a moment just looking out into the dark before he pulled off his boots and socks. Light-footed he sought his way through the long grass, enjoying the feel of soft leaves under his toes.

Obi-Wan had learned to miss the Temple during his year out in the field. There was no place in the universe with the same aura of peace, no place he found the same easy flow of the Force. In this special place the Force was concentrated as nowhere else, assimilated and channeled in the bodies and minds of thousands of kindred souls--and it had something no place in the universe could give him: the souls of the ones he loved. He had always known, had felt it when meditating. But now he looked around and it was all changed in a beautiful way, now that his heart finally had learned to see.

The moss-spangled grass at the foot of a gnarled tree was as soft as he remembered, the ground-touching branches closed around him like the walls of a living bower, and he sat down in this nature made tent, feeling he could at last let go.

This life-filled garden, this place under the weeping luccustus tree was a special place inside the special place. The smell, the feeling, the aura of this hiding spot was balm on his soul, his heart knowing he had been here, maybe not even a day ago.

Folding his hands in his lap Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting the few low sounds of nocturnal life around him fade--chirping insects, the arrhythmic call of a beko, the sound of little feet scurrying up the raw-barked tree trunk behind him.

He let himself drift into meditation, intending to focus on whatever his subconscious chose to show him.

He found himself thinking back to when he had last sat on this spot below this tree and he felt the edges of his mouth turn upward in a wistful smile.

It had been on a day both filled with joy and sorrow. The memory rising before his eyes was clear and colorful from being viewed so often, from being held tightly to a lonely heart on more cold nights than Obi-Wan cared to count. He reached up to sweep the hair that had grown out away from his eyes, his fingers automatically smoothing a lock behind his right ear, as he had done half of his life to straighten his wayward braid. Swirling the hair around his fingers, his smile brightened. It had been a joyful day indeed.

On New Year's Day following his twenty-fourth birthday he, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, had been elevated to the rank of knight.

He had never known greater happiness than when he and his master stood up together from where they had kneeled before Master Yoda, his severed braid entwined in their joined and very shaking hands. Qui-Gon had lifted them to press the back of Obi-Wan's fingers first against his forehead, then to his lips, to finally settle them firmly against his broad chest, where Obi-Wan could feel the fast beats of his master's heart pulsing against his flesh. Qui-Gon's eyes had sparkled with suspicious brightness as he had bent down to kiss him deeply. They had stood in front of their elders and friends, in the slanted beams of the rising sun, drowned in the meeting of their souls, cradled by the benedictions of their sisters and brothers, the voices of many rising around them in a joyful hymn.

It had been magic, set outside the normal world, the normal run of time.

Obi-Wan smiled at the memory, sure that each new knight felt that way--especially if their Rising ceremony was topped by a bonding.

But it had been also a day of sorrow. The reality of life had found them fast afterwards. They had known it, of course; it was all decided beforehand and they had bowed before the demands of their duties as Jedi, knowing the universe did not wait for them to bring the day to its desperately yearned for conclusion.

Right after the ceremony Qui-Gon had to leave to mediate in a conflict escalating into civil war while Obi-Wan had left Coruscant the following morning to begin his traditional First Year quest, a year far away from the Temple, from his master, on his own missions at the side of strange knights.

They had said their good-byes here under their luccustus tree, lying in each other's arms for a few stolen minutes, desperate to compensate for the time they would spend apart with kisses and soft touches. It hadn't been enough; it had to be enough.

His First Year had been a bad one, and a good one. A year that had felt sometimes like ten years apart from his master for the first time. A year filled with missions, both successful and not, filled with pain and anguish as well as joy and new friendships forged along the way.

Even forewarned, Obi-Wan had found his soulbond with Qui-Gon a source of great stress, the longing sometimes so overwhelming he was dangerously distracted from what he was doing. And turning out to be a classic textbook case, he had spent many nights of the first month breathing through migraine attacks, nauseated and half blind, until he had learned to deal with it, had mastered advanced selfhealing techniques that had ever eluded him before as so many things had that drew on the Living Force. Alone in the field, fighting for survival, he had at last found the missing connection and with hard-won understanding, bruising his knees in endless meditations, he had recognized how much he'd always relied on Qui-Gon in that aspect. Subconsciously he had concluded he didn't need to improve his connection to the Living Force, thinking the strength of their team-work lay in the differences between them. Subconsciously he had concluded it was enough to hone his inborn talents in the Unifying Force to perfection, leaving the other to his partner. He had blocked himself without knowing, had caused all of his own--and his master's--frustrations with a self-induced handicap.

With this understanding and eventual acceptance he had found the key to free himself and let the Living Force come to him, his gates finally open. It set him on a path leading him to the wellspring of his master's serenity as well as to his empathy and compassion. And once found he would make it his own.

Obi-Wan looked forward to telling and showing his master what he had learned, knowing how pleased and relieved he would be. And happy for him, as Obi-Wan knew it had pained his master to see his student cut off from what brought himself so much joy and contentment. Yes, Qui-Gon would be very happy for him.

Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan sighed, his breath shivering over his lips. He unfolded his legs and stretched out onto the grass, his hands folded over his impatient heart, the craving a fire in its depth whenever he thought of the man he loved. Knowing the waiting was almost over, Obi-Wan let go of his control and let the warmth seep deeper to pool sweetly in his groin. He felt their bond expand, felt the answer as a hot breeze in his mind, felt himself swept away in emotions of love and a yearning matching his perfectly. Qui-Gon would join him when he could, knowing he was back, and Obi-Wan was content--even if his heart beating so fast under his hands was not--to wait for him just a little bit longer.

Concentrating on a mantra, he tried once more to meditate but after a while his thoughts dissolved into feelings and these into dreams, his conscious mind slipping into sleep.

He swam in the warm currents without sense of time and place. A scent wafted around his senses and it brought the feelings of home. Without knowing when it started and when it was done, he found himself in the outside world again, the sweet aroma in the air that of the luccustus watching over him like a sentinel.

Opening his eyes, he was intrigued by the play of bluish light on the ground, tiny floating islands of moonlight seeping through the gently swaying leaves above. He looked up and found he could see the sky through the skimpy foliage of the old tree, could see the thousands of tiny specks of light scattered over the firmament, artificial as it was, just a simulation of how the sky should look like if civilization had never been.

He fastened his gaze on a constellation right above him, one dominated by a pair of blue dwarfs, small but very bright, huddled together, rotating around a shared well of gravity. He had seen ancient charts where the sky was the stage for an endless parade of mystical gods, heroes, and all sorts of beasts. This one was--how could it be anything else--'Master and Apprentice' in the charts of Old Coruscant. But he knew, on Alderaan, where this constellation could be seen too, if a little bit twisted, it was 'The Lovers.' Appropriate.

Obi-Wan hugged himself, letting the blissful shudder course through him, felt the flush that spread over his skin, while his eyes were still on the stars that were not distant worlds in his mind tonight, not other places, scattered insulas in the vast ocean of the universe. Tonight they were just twinkling lights set on the velvet sheet of night, mysterious, unreachable, more felt with the heart but seen with the eyes, too beautiful to bear.

He didn't know how long he had lain there, dreaming, but from one blink to another, which could have been minutes or hours, he knew he was there.

Obi-Wan didn't move his heavy-lidded eyes from the stars nor did he move in any other way, just waited as he had waited for so long.

There was the soft vibration of the earth beneath him when a foot set down on it, the sound of cloth against cloth. The air moved over him and then he could smell him, cinnamon and sandalwood, and the fresh fragrance of evertrue-blossoms of handmade soap.

He felt a hand reaching out to him, touching his head so lightly as if afraid he was an apparition. Obi-Wan's eyes closed as his senses all flew to this one spot of touch, to the feel of long fingers carding through his hair, mapping the unfamiliar length, fingertips running over his scalp in soft sweeping, soothing caresses. Obi-Wan reached up and took hold of the wandering hand, winding his smaller fingers between the other's and brought them joined down to his chest, resting them over his heart.

The tips of long hair touched his chin, and then there was no distance anymore between them as soft lips claimed his own, hot, wet breath flowing freely into his smiling mouth and down into his lungs to curl tightly around his heart. The lips moved on his in the gentlest kiss he had ever known, and he arched up to meet them fully, his tongue slipping between and he sought to taste it all, running it over even teeth, touching its counterpart. That kiss seemed to go on forever, for a second, then the sweet lips left him. Obi-Wan let out a protesting moan, and wound his free hand into the luxurious, soft mane that tickled his neck and forehead.

A soft kiss on each of his eyelids. "Look at me, love."

Obi-Wan did so and found the stars blocked out by the shadowed contours of his dream-lover's head, only the hair glowing with flickers of moonlight. One more blink and unconsciously his eighth sense compensated for the absence of light, and Obi-Wan looked up into the pale face and found he had forgotten just how beautiful these dark blue eyes were. Qui-Gon seemed to be just as mesmerized by his and they did nothing for many heartbeats but look at each other. Feeling too happy to contain himself, Obi-Wan at last reached up with both hands, running them along the bearded jaw, delighted in the bristly-edged softness.

"I have missed you, my Master," he finally whispered, needing to make the moment real with speech.

The older man smiled down at him. "Every minute, my Knight," he rumbled and stole another kiss.

Obi-Wan followed the retreating lips, his arms slung tightly around the other's neck. Qui-Gon gave in gracefully, plundered his mouth in heart accelerating finesse, his long arms tightly around his back, lifting him up so their chests met.

Obi-Wan pressed himself against the other, needing the contact, needing to feel all of him. He moaned into the mouth that devoured him so thoroughly, felt his master's hands on his back moving in circles, felt them dip lower, one big palm running along his hipbone in an urgent caress. Obi-Wan let the sweet lips go and looked up to Qui-Gon again, needing to see the fire there in the dilated pupils, needing to see his expression.

His master licked at the cleft in his chin once before returning his questioning gaze. "Obi-Wan?"

Tenderness and restrained hunger was what he found and silently shaking his head Obi-Wan just smiled, never getting enough of the sight of this man looking that special way at him. Qui-Gon leant forward again and set a series of kisses down his throat, pressing a moan and a shiver from his victim. His lips came to rest in the place where Obi-Wan's inner tunic overlapped, silently licking at the skin, pulling at the few hairs showing there and Obi-Wan thought his heart surely must jump out of his chest to meet the lips so near.

He was distracted by the hand on his hip moving upwards to clip open his belt and he arched his back helpfully as Qui-Gon dragged this heavy and unyielding barrier of filled pockets and lightsaber from out between them. Deft fingers loosened the knot on his sash and it too vanished before the fingers moved on to the next tie that held his clothes in place. The night air was cool on the hot skin of his belly and chest as his tabard and tunics fell open to the waist. Qui-Gon's lips ran along his newly exposed shoulders, his hands caressing the soft skin of Obi-Wan's sides.

Obi-Wan arched into the touches, his own fingers combing in rising urgency through the long mane. He touched again and again the leather-thong that held half of the strands back, his fist running down the tail it secured, loving the feel of the slick bunch of hair gliding over his palm. He removed the thong at last, combing the freed locks forward to spill around his master's face and over his own skin, fanning eroticism in each silky touch. His heart was beating like wild man's drums, his groin aching with sweet fire. He cried out as Qui-Gon's lips found his left nipple, licking, sucking the hard nub into frenzy. The big hands touched him everywhere, skin on skin, mouth sucking, fingers rubbing his other nipple until he thought he would come from just this bliss.

He was frantic now to get Qui-Gon out of his own clothes even if that meant he had to lose this divine mouth from his heaving chest.

Together they made short work of robe and tunics. Obi-Wan sat up to look his fill at the torso his eager fingers were revealing. He had seen his master naked before, of course, knew his fine-tuned, muscled form in detail, but never this way, never with the knowledge he could actually touch, taste...He bent forward and slid his tongue over one of the hard nipples set so enticingly on the wide, hairless chest.

Qui-Gon moaned and took hold of his face to first lift him up for a deep kiss and then to push him down again to feast on his other nub as delicately. The taste under his whirling tongue was addictive, spicy saltiness and vegetarian sweetness, the taste of the scents surrounding his master.

While he feasted, Qui-Gon's hands were running up and down his arms, over his shoulderblades, down the planes of his back to dip under the tight waistband of his trousers. Helpfully, Obi-Wan reached down and undid the tie to let them fall loose, inviting touch, the opportunity to know him, before he needed his own fingers again to map every muscle on his master's chest and abdomen his tongue couldn't reach. Big palms settled on his ass, gripping him, massaging the hard swell of muscles in an urgent rhythm counterpoint to his own licks and sucks as he worked his way downwards over ribs and rippling belly-muscles.

Obi-Wan's fingers ran over the soft skin and along a stiff waistband, delicately touching the hot skin underneath before he tugged the cloth out of the way. Qui-Gon moaned as he exposed him to the cold air and Obi-Wan covered the hot genitals with his hand, warming, protecting, humming soothingly against the indention of the navel his tongue had reached. The flesh under his palm was pulsing in rhythm with the strong heart and he moved his hand a little, feeling the hot smoothness of the shaft slide along his fingers. Qui-Gon hitched a breath when he skimmed lightly over the swollen slickness of the crown to delicately learn the topography and the wonder of the wetness that sprang eagerly against his fingertips. Obi-Wan gave the navel a last kiss and shifted just a little bit until his chin was touching his own fingers. He looked down to add another sense to the wonder of what his tactical sense had been mapping for him so eagerly.

It was almost overwhelming: this was his master, Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon's phallus nestled in his palm, hard and eager for his touch, waiting to be loved by him. It was only the span of breath that separated his lips from that miracle and he closed the space inside a thought, letting the trembling skin of his lips connect with the hard wetness. His tongue flicked out to taste, finding blandness first before registering an underlying sweet tartness. Eagerly he lapped at the fluid, humming contentedly as more welled up under his tongue's tip. Qui-Gon shuddered under him, his hand in Obi-Wan's hair tightening to hurting point for a second but before he could protest the fingers loosened and busied themselves with stroking his ears and neck in trembling urgency.

Obi-Wan's tongue flicked eagerly against the tiny slit that let forth nectar like a spring from between rocks, and needing more, he sucked in the whole crown, tightening his lips over the hot flesh as he went down. Pressing the flared head against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he shifted to take the whole of him--as Qui-Gon's hands suddenly gripped him harder and pushed him up and away. Obi-Wan protested loudly as the sweet phallus was tugged out of his mouth and hands and blindly he moved after it but was stopped by strong, unrelenting fingers that closed around his wrists.

His protests were swallowed with a devouring kiss and a tongue that filled his senses again with the taste and feel of Qui-Gon and he did not protest when he was turned and laid down on the grass that prickled the skin of his back with soft coolness.

Obi-Wan sucked at the strong tongue in his mouth, arching up against the hands that still held him fast. Qui-Gon withdrew and placed a rain of tiny kisses over his face and neck.

"Please let me love you," the deep voice murmured into his skin, knowing lips worshipping his body with every lick and caress. "I have dreamt of--my Obi-Wan, this first time, will you let me love you?"

Obi-Wan could only groan his consent, every thought driven out of his mind as tongue and fingers sucked and laved and caressed his skin into one screaming nerve of need.

Then the hands that held his wrists loosened and ran down the inside of his arms, his sides and dipped under the waistband of his trousers, running delicately along his hips to tug the cloth away from him. Cold air rushed against his hot skin and he shuddered in dismay..."Hmmm," the vibration of his lover's voice on his sensitive skin made him shiver again with the reaction of millions of little muscle contractions, running from his chest down to his groin, warming him up quickly, his mind too busy with other sensations to feel cold or anything else that was not caused by a pair of big hands and soft lips and a tongue's hot wetness.

Hands that had pushed cloth down his legs ran upward again along the quivering muscles of his thighs to the seams where legs met body, thumbs on the sensitive inside of his thighs, callused fingerpads stroking along the creases in little licks, arousing him to the impossible, millimeters from his aching, tightly updrawn balls.

When Obi-Wan thought he had to scream in frustration, torn between the bliss of the mouth now sucking again at his nipples and the almost touch down there, Qui-Gon lifted up from what must be a mission to drive him crazy and looked at him with such a tender smile, with such love in his eyes that Obi-Wan forgot all about frustration and had just to smile back, a wide, wild smile, turning into laughter which ended in a hiccup.

"You are..." he tried around the lump in his throat, around the buzz in his head that made thinking impossible and he gave up on saying something comprehensible. Still smiling madly, he bent and twisted to reach his lover's lips to press his own to the swollen ones, hungry, murmuring then the only words his mind supplied and it was really the only thing that mattered anyway: "I love you."

"'nd I you," Qui-Gon rumbled against his tongue and the deep vibration made him shiver all over. Obi-Wan's fingers carded through the short hairs of the other's beard while they kissed, stroking along the hidden jaw, fingering the edge of the busy lips. Qui-Gon shifted his mouth and sucked in the tip of Obi-Wan's forefinger and the instant spark of lightning sizzled down his spine to ignite in his groin, making him moan, making him arch up against his tormentor. Qui-Gon's smile got wider still and the master of his heart treated each and every one of his fingers thus, turning Obi-Wan inside out, letting him shudder at each suckle. Obi-Wan's whole body moved with the sensation, his erection rubbing against Qui-Gon's hard thigh in counterpoint.

When he ran out of fingers, his lover took pity on him and moved downwards. Kisses marked the path over his sternum to his navel and--at last, oh, at last to find the center of his need.

Pleasure pooled hotly in Obi-Wan's groin as Qui-Gon cradled his balls in his big palm and laved the tightly drawn orbs, each firm stroke like fingers of lightning to his heart. Enclosing him in the largeness of his hand, his lover ran his tongue up the underside of Obi-Wan's cock, wriggling the pointed tip at the spot under the crown and then circling around the slit in maddeningly fast licks. Obi-Wan squirmed under the attack, arching his hips upward, tangling his fingers in hair, half pulling the divine mouth closer, half pushing it away to end the unbearable torture that made his toes curl inward.

Qui-Gon sucked him in then, strong throat muscles closing around him and the pleasure imploded inwards; he felt his balls tighten, the rush snapping his hips upward and the sensations hurling through him made him cry out in a broken wail. Eyes tightly shut, all senses inward, Obi-Wan floundered on the edge of consciousness, concentration on nothing but his body's singing.

When he came down to earth again he found himself cradled in strong arms and an aura bright enough to outshine any star. Basking in the all encompassing love, he raised himself enough to return the soft kiss that was laid on his lips like a benediction. Obi-Wan looked up into the soft eyes of his lover and smiled at him with lips and soul. Thank you, he whispered along their bond, thinking that he never felt like this before and any waiting had been worth it to see that look in Qui-Gon's eyes and to feel the contentment and joy that reverberated between their minds.

Qui-Gon bent to kiss the cleft in his chin and Obi-Wan chuckled, feeling giddy and oversensitive as the mustache tickled him. The wonderful mouth moved along his jaw and teeth nibbled at his earlobe. Not able to hold still any longer and needing desperately to touch on his own, Obi-Wan untangled his hands from mussed up hair and stroked down a sweaty neck to the smooth skin of shoulders and back, returning the tenderness he was receiving.

He arched into the wet suction of the soft skin behind his ear and almost missed the finger that touched him elsewhere, circling synchronously with the lips sucking his earlobe and then slipping inside him as delicately as the tongue that flicked into his ear. He moaned and arched to drive the finger deeper, to make the mouth suck harder, his rush of his pulse loud in his ears.

He was more than ready when Qui-Gon shifted between his legs and sat up. Fully in tune, Obi-Wan moved with him, sliding his ass onto the big man's legs, his thighs spread wide in invitation. His master closed his hand around Obi-Wan's cock and stroked from root to tip, sparking the interest into flame again, his pulse speeding up in concert with his breath.

Leaning up on his elbows, Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon added Obi-Wan's precum to his own, his impressive phallus glistening with their joined juices. Ready and eager, Obi-Wan angled his hips up further and reached down to take hold of the hot, hard member, stroking once with his thumb over the tip and then guiding it to what was for this moment in time the center of his being.

Qui-Gon stilled with the tip just inside him, shivering under Obi-Wan's urgent caresses along shaft and balls. He looked up to Obi-Wan with a face transformed into a mask of passion, never more beautiful to Obi-Wan's brimming eyes, sweat on his forehead, hair sticking there, sweat glistening above his lips, eyes black pools, passion-wide, velvet in their shine and shimmer, love drowned.

"You hold me," Qui-Gon said in an almost normal voice, licking his lips. He then moved his hips, pressing inside, never leaving Obi-Wan's eyes with his own as he slid into him. There was no pain, their minds ruling over body; there was only the feeling of being filled to the impossible, the tip of that marvelous phallus surely touching his heart.

They moved together, Obi-Wan leaning on his elbows, head thrown back, eyes fixed on the tiny lights in the sky he had forgotten the names of, one foot on the ground, the other hooked over a shoulder. Qui-Gon's agile fingers stroked him in the unbearably slow rhythm he set for them, obviously knowing what he was doing, angling his thrusts precisely to Obi-Wan's prostate.

The friction there was driving him slowly crazy and Obi-Wan wanted Qui-Gon to go faster, harder, frantic for the ultimate ecstasy but also wanting to make it last forever, never to let him go again, never to leave him, never to stop with this slow loving that made him delirious with need, with lust, with a love so overpowering it threatened to burst his heart.

Finally Obi-Wan couldn't stand it anymore and burying his toes harder into the moss he sped their movements up, drove himself onto the thick cock faster. Qui-Gon moaned and let him set the new pace, watching him out of slitted eyes, his teeth flashing in a wide, crooked smile as they locked their eyes.

The heat rose fast and ecstasy funneled through Obi-Wan's veins, imploding from his groin upwards, downwards, nerves on blissful overload tingling from his curling toes to his twitching lips, followed by a hot wave that ran over his skin as every blood vessel in his skin dilated. He shivered, held his breath, sank into the feeling, holding it to him as long as he could, knowing he might burst with the happiness, with the unconditional love, if that word was ever enough for what he felt. He saw himself reflected in Qui-Gon's eyes, saw himself where nobody had ever been before, saw himself in his soul as he burst forth and poured himself along the bond as well as into a loving hand.

When it was over, he sank back bonelessly, his arms giving out and to his surprise he hit not cold, spiky grass but his lover's arms around him. He panted, cried, he didn't know what, his thoughts still clinging to the ebbing sensations. He felt a kiss placed on his brow, his cheeks, his lips.

His boneless body was shifted, rearranged and then Qui-Gon began to move again.

Snapping out of his lassitude, Obi-Wan lifted his sprawled legs high against Qui-Gon's chest, his arms coming around the broad back, his fingers running down the sweat slicked skin to take hold of the muscled globes, holding Qui-Gon tightly to himself, urging him on as his lover strove for his own completion. The hot pants against his neck got faster and the little sounds Qui-Gon made deep in his throat were sweet music for in his ears, a song solely sung for him.

Qui-Gon let his tongue flick over his lips for a last time, then he looked up, seeking his eyes, holding them. Obi-Wan felt the energy gathering in his mate, felt his groin tighten, his whole body tensing, and then he fell into the eyes, sucked into them, touching his soul, merging with it, the bond bursting in a storm of sparkling Force-energy. It fused them together in a moment of unbelievable synergetic euphoria and ecstasy, his own body coiling with inner and outer muscles around his lover. He felt Qui-Gon's orgasm rush through his own nerves, through his own veins, knew, impossible as it was, that his body exploded again with him in sympathy reaction, knew no difference anymore between them.

He trembled in aftershock, trembled so much he could only cling to the big body that covered him, was holding him so tightly, protecting him. His body still tingled, his mind was singing so loudly, or maybe the Force was, the soul-bond vibrating like a thousand harp strings between them and he thought he might never be able to hear anything else again. If this was normal between soul-bonded mates, if this was how it was to be for them in the future, Obi-Wan had no idea how he should survive it.

Sighing deeply, Obi-Wan let part of his too high energies flow out of him into the Living Force. For a moment he lingered to listen to how the echoes of his--their--happiness were picked up by the uncounted heartbeats filling the garden around them. The sparks of life flared a little bit higher for a moment, joining with them on an elemental level, becoming one with them for the space of a slow, slow breath. Share with us, he told them silently, share with us what the Force has granted us.

A light breeze prickled over his exposed skin making Obi-Wan aware of the cooling sweat on his and his lover's skin. He gathered the nearest robe to him and spread it carefully over the long frame that held the most of the chill night from his own body. Satisfied Obi-Wan snuggled deeper into the embrace and laid his cheek against the drowsing man's temple. Qui-Gon murmured something that sounded like his name, and tightened his arms around him. "Shhh, sleep my love," Obi-Wan soothed, petting the hair off of the high forehead, marveling at its softness. Taking up one strand Obi-Wan held it to his nose, tickling himself with its brushy end. Breathing in the sweet smell, his eyes turned upwards and he smiled up to the softly swaying canopy of the luccustus and beyond to the star-scattered sky.

Qui-Gon was waiting for him on the balcony outside the Council Chambers.

He stood with his back to him, hands on the railing, face lifted to the sky, seemingly watching the traffic but Obi-Wan knew he was basking in the beauty of the sunset, the beauty of the Force that flowed in such abundance around them.

Stepping up to his lover, Obi-Wan rested his face against the broad back and wound his arms around him from behind, interlacing his fingers over the flat stomach. Warm hands covered his and squeezed them once.

"It went well?" his master asked, callused thumbs stroking his knuckles.

"Hmhmmm," Obi-Wan murmured, acknowledging what his master already knew.

"Master Yoda is pleased with your handling of your First Year?"

"As you well know, as you can feel Yoda's contentment, can't you," he admonished his forever master affectionately.

"Actually it's hard not to feel it." Qui-Gon turned in his arms and laid his hand against Obi-Wan's cheek. "But mostly I feel from him how happy he is for us, my love."

Obi-Wan turned his head to kiss the soft palm. He smiled up into the velvet eyes and then turned slightly to look out at the horizon, his hands closing around the sun-warmed metal of the balcony's railing. A low wind found him so near the edge, sliding up his skin and playing with his hair. Qui-Gon turned with him and closed his long arms around him, his face against the side of Obi-Wan's head, the long gray-sprinkled mane dancing around them, silky strands touching Obi-Wan's skin in whispering caresses. Obi-Wan's heart was filled to the brim with warmth and happiness. Drunk with the beauty surrounding him, near and far, inside and outside, he felt he glowed from within as he looked at the painted sky, his heart rejoicing in the feel of freedom as his gaze and mind followed the flight of a white bird that rode the warm upper currents along the Temple's side.

His eyes returned to the round shield of molten copper that was now losing its spherical design in the lower layers of the atmosphere, becoming compressed like a ball hitting the ground--a memory raked at his back in a shiver of ice. It was so alike. So alike it could actually be the same sunset--

"Do you remember? The last time we were here...?" he trailed off as he heard himself speak his thoughts aloud.

Qui-Gon tightened his embrace. "Yes, I do," he murmured and Obi-Wan didn't know why he was still surprised by the similarity with which their minds worked sometimes.

"It's the same," Obi-Wan continued softly, his eyes fixed on the red-washed sky. "And all is different. The vision--it was all so incomprehensible then. And what's annoying, even after years of meditating--it is still."

"You had a vision then? You never told me, I never knew..." He heard the big man swallow.

"It's all right. You had other things--on your mind then." Obi-Wan turned in the encircling arms and looked up into the warmly illuminated face above his. He splayed one hand over Qui-Gon's chest, feeling his heavy heartbeat against his palm. "After all this time you still find fault in yourself, don't you?"

"What was your vision about?" Qui-Gon asked and Obi-Wan let it go. Qui-Gon was right: it was all talked out long ago. Everything had been understood and forgiven--they had come a long way since then.

What surprised him now was that he realized he really had never talked about what he had seen and felt that evening when Anakin had stepped between them. He had convinced himself long ago that it had been no true vision sent to him by the Force, but simple, despised hysterics.

"I saw the world consumed in a flaming inferno."

"The Darkness Yoda and the others felt."

But his melodramatic vision was so different to what the others said they felt. The Force whispered, not shouted--that he had been taught all his life. He needed to be calm and still to hear it, not stick his fingers into his ears to avoid deafness. Nevertheless, there was a connection, so..."I assume so," he answered uncertainly.

"Did you ever feel it again? Did you have that vision again?"

"No, never. And you would have known, wouldn't you? Actually I never had such strong prescience again after that night."

"The Force was calling to you," Qui-Gon stated, laying a little blessing kiss first on his forehead and then a longer lasting one on his eagerly opening lips.

Obi-Wan had thought so too, on that awful night three years ago. Had felt the horror of the chosen, not knowing what to do with his knowledge, not knowing why he was chosen at all, not wanting to be chosen, wanting only to turn back time and stop the pain the future held for him. But he never, even later, could discern whether he had only had a nervous breakdown, seeing figments of his subconscious mind.

On the other hand, the warnings he received about Qui-Gon's misfortune on Naboo had turned out true enough and it had left him trembling for a long time. But that vision of doom--it never came back, its urgency like one flare of fire, high and bright and quickly consumed. And it had all centered around Anakin, the future currents splintering at him in all directions like waves at a cliff--something unimaginable, if not even ludicrous now, if one compared that mind-manipulating boy from Tatooine with the thoughtful and thoroughly good-hearted Jedi-child he had become in the years since. Obi-Wan looked forward to learning about the progress the boy had made in the time he had been away.

"Tell me about Anakin," Obi-Wan asked.

"Anakin? I haven't seen him this week, but as far as I know he is doing fine. Very fine. He will be happy to see you again."

"As will I. He is still with Master Preeli?"

"Yes."

"It was the right decision," Obi-Wan acknowledged the wisdom of his elders. He never would have thought of it: it never would have occurred to him to give Anakin into the care of a creche-parent. But it seemed it had been all the boy had needed: to belong to a family group, to have someone special care for him, not as a padawan-learner with the burdens of coming adulthood, but as the insecure, fearful child he still was under his exterior of worldwise slave. Obi-Wan had seen in wonder how fast he had integrated into the family group Master Preeli supervised. Anakin had accepted the other six children as his siblings, drawn in by their open-arm acceptance of him, as they took him under their wing without ridiculing him for being so old and knowing so little. It had awed Anakin, who had lived in a world of egoism and deceit, and as he once told Obi-Wan--after they had become friends--that day he had known all the stories about the Jedi were true and that he belonged. But three years back--with all the initial talk about Ani becoming Qui-Gon's padawan-learner he had seen nothing else but that possibility. And he understood now how wrong it would have been.

Obi-Wan felt something in the back of his mind then, a whisper of how things could have been different--about wrong decisions, out of the best motives of course, and the consequences. And Qui-Gon had seen it, he--

"And Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan asked, looking up.

"Has his fingers in everything as usual. You know how he is. Anakin is as smitten with him as--"

"--you were."

"You see parallels between me and Anakin?" Qui-Gon's eyebrows drew up in amusement; the hands that had stroked Obi-Wan's back in lazy circles stilled and came to rest on his lover's hips.

"Not really. Only that you were--are--both exceptionally strong in the Force, too smart for your own good, stubborn like a moolin--and Master Yoda's pet project."

Qui-Gon chuckled softly, his fingers wriggling into Obi-Wan's sides, making him squirm. "All these descriptions fit someone else too, my wise one. But you're right. Under different circumstances Anakin would have been Yoda's next padawan, I'm sure."

"Not his true calling," he echoed Qui-Gon's long ago words.

"No, in this reality he's not meant to become a knight. Ah, you do not know this: Master Engineer Oupeccis has taken an interest in him."

"She will apprentice him?"

"Before the year turns again we will witness a bonding," Qui-Gon said with quiet conviction.

Obi-Wan thought about the large wookiee-engineer who'd been his teacher, too. He remembered laughing ice-blue eyes and a crooked sense of humor, a sharp analytical mind and delicate fingers. It seemed to be a good match--

Squinting into the sun touching the horizon now, Obi-Wan found the sudden need to know for sure, not only through intuition, but from knowledge.

Turning again in the loose embrace, he closed his hands around the still warm metal rail and let himself sink into the currents of the Force. He pictured them together, little blond boy and red-striped giant, saw them bent over intricate machinery, enthusiastic voices blending, their auras matching well. It felt right. Something lifted from his mind at the view, something he hadn't even known still sat there in silent dread.

Reaching past them, opening up wide to the Force, Obi-Wan felt the life of every being in the Temple rush towards him, from his soulmate behind him, to the tiny fish in the Fountain Garden. Going further, he felt the life of the billions of people around him, the ebb and flow of their emotions, their hopes and dreams and possible futures, all together creating a low background hum in the Force.

The future was like a calm sea, peaceful and silent, Light shimmering on the waves. There were a few swirls of Dark, but still natural and far and distant. Looking at them, Obi-Wan felt no urgency overcoming him; nothing tried to get his attention, no warning flew in the Force. His loved ones were as safe as their dangerous way of life would ever have them. More so now again, as the Republic was stable once more after the last years' upheavals with an averted civil war and corruption scandals that had twice almost resulted in Valorum's unseating. Instead a lot of senators had fallen through their own ambitions and palace intrigues, the most prominent Aks Moe of Malastare and Palpatine of Naboo--the latter no shock to Obi-Wan. He had always actually disliked the man: he just smiled too much.

Satisfied with what he felt in the Force, Obi-Wan turned away from the view to take the large, warm hands of his lover into his own, squeezing them tightly.

"I have seen enough," he said, stepping backward. "Let's go." With a last glance at the sky he turned, tugging at Qui-Gon's hand--and came up short when his master didn't move.

Qui-Gon looked at him silently, intently searching his eyes, looking deep into him from inside and outside. After a moment, a peaceful smile settled in the corners of the dark-blue eyes, changing them from piercing to soft in a fraction of a second.

Qui-Gon brought their intertwined hands up and placed a few soft kisses on the upturned knuckles, causing Obi-Wan's heart to beat faster with the pure gentleness of the gesture.

"Lead on," Qui-Gon said, eyes smiling.

The sun chose that moment to vanish behind the rim of the world and cast them into bluish twilight. Obi-Wan blinked distractedly first at the sky and then at Qui-Gon, seeing the colors rinsed out on his stark featured face. Two sets of memories clashed for a second and lost Obi-Wan stared into the dark eyes, memory seeing sorrow, reality nothing but merriment. And he understood. Clasping the big hands tightly, he slowly turned away from their place at the edge of the world and led the way back into the Temple, his master just a step behind.

The End