Faith (Companion piece to Faithless)

by Maygra (maygra@bellsouth.net)

Rating: NC17

Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to George Lucas Lucasfilm, LTD and ILM. No infringement is inended, no recompense is sought. George doesn't get this dark and get to keep his PG13 rating.

Summary: Companion piece/missing segment from 'Faithless' but as it didn't progress that plot, it got its own. Takes place in during the months between the end of 'Faithless' and the epilogue and it probably would help if you read Faithless first. Obi-Wan faces his fears and his takes his Trials to become a Jedi.

Acknowledgments & Notes: All thanks to Lori G. who is both indulging me in my new obsession and betaing her brains out for me. Grateful bow to Brenda A. and Rache for showing me The Way. Mild spoilers for "TPM" but it's mostly A/U, post TPM. References to the Jedi Apprentice books put out by Scholastic.

Warning: Series rated NC-17

"Tivas, Morocan and the Enaabli systems would be our best bets." Mace Windu's holo image echoed the suggestion made by Master Tirs. "The Trade Federation moves through though systems, but has no overt presence there."

Qui-Gon disagreed. He had just come from Enaabli. "The Enaabli wish to remain neutral. If we force them to take a stand by using their system as a launch point for infiltration, we could easily shift that desire against us." He got a glare from Windu and paid it no mind. He suspected at moments like this that particular master was regretting the fact he had seconded the motion to place Qui-Gon on the council, even though it had seemed the best compromise at the time. With both Obi-Wan and Anakin requiring his attention, and Amidala's preference for dealing with him rather than the other members of the council, his remaining on Naboo had seemed the right choice and so he had, save for brief excursions where he had contacts -- like Enaabli.

Proximity had as much to do with his nomination as anything.

Yoda was watching him, as he so often did, and Qui-Gon returned the gaze with the lift of an eyebrow. More discussion and Qui-Gon got his way -- for now. Enaabli would be left out of it, allowing them to still trade and yet not compromise the system's neutrality. The only thing he and Windu did agree on was that their neutrality would be tenuous and short-lived. Perhaps then they could persuade the Enaabli to join them.

So it was decided and Qui-Gon was one of the first to his feet, ready to leave before they assigned him to report to Amidala and Chancellor Valorum.

In such a hurry, you are?

Almost. Almost. He turned to look down at Yoda, his most calm and serene expression on his face. "You have a task for me, Master?"

"Set the time of trial for your padawan, we have."

Qui-Gon stilled his reaction with effort. "When, if I may ask?"

"Ask you may. Three days," Yoda pronounced and returned to his contemplation, apparently not listening to the post-Council chatter.

Three days. Obi-Wan would be ready. Or he would not be, he reminded himself after taking his leave of Yoda. He walked back toward their quarters trying to achieve a calmer state, to present Obi-Wan with the information with no opinion whatsoever.

The heavily carved doors gave way under his touch with an ease belied by their size. The rooms Amidala had provided were far more luxurious than what he was used to -- or any other Jedi master for that matter -- and even pared back to their basic functionality, they retained the opulent feel of what was, after all, a palace.

Most of the other masters and the knights who passed in and out of the area were also housed on the second floor. The Academy itself had been relocated to Venera, as far from the main conflict as was possible and even that was transitory. That decision alone had further split the Senate, but there was no other cure for it. It had been unanimously decided within the Jedi Council that the children could not be put at risk. Palpatine might be maintaining a benign front but his motives and his ambitions were not to be trusted.

The difficulty they had had in convincing Amidala of that was only an indication of how difficult it would be to convince anyone else.

He stilled the frustrated thoughts as he entered, smiling only slightly at the pair of heads bent over the terminal. Star systems. Interstellar Geography, one of the few subjects that both Obi-Wan and Anakin never grew tired of or disagreed on.

Despite his effort to remain quiet both heads turned at once, Anakin perhaps a fraction of a second sooner. The boy's perceptions were remarkable. He looked a proper padawan, with cropped hair and a braid, short though it was, and for only a moment Qui-Gon was sure he saw another face, a little older...

He blinked and it was gone. A memory of Obi-Wan perhaps. "I did not mean to interrupt your lessons," he said, moving smoothly through the common room toward his own chambers. The rooms to right and left belonged to Obi-Wan and Anakin respectively. It had made sense when they first moved Obi-Wan from the infirmary to here, allowing Qui-Gon to reach either of his students should the need arise. Anakin was young and missed his mother: he was not exactly prone to nightmares, but he woke frequently in the night, and Obi-Wan...

Obi-Wan had recovered from his physical injuries, but he still had the alarming tendency of disappearing altogether -- in mind though not body. A call from his Master and he would return...slightly disoriented and embarrassed, not even realizing he had done it again.

It had happened less of late but Qui-Gon saw no reason to rearrange their living arrangements.

"You didn't, Master," Obi-Wan said, rising from his position before Qui-Gon could exit. He had put on some weight, gained color from Naboo's sun, but he was quieter, almost more calm than Qui-Gon liked. Certainly more calm than he had been in the past. Qui-Gon had spent years trying to instill that quality in his pupil. He would have chosen another means of providing the lesson.

Anakin looked up at Qui-Gon, a grin on his face. "I memorized them all!" he said, expecting praise and receiving it in Qui-Gon's smile as his master glanced at the screen output.

"Exactly as you should since your ambition to be a pilot is hardly a secret," Qui-Gon chuckled. "I am sure Captain Eves will allow you to test your new knowledge on a sim," Qui-Gon said, clearing it with the Captain even as he spoke.

It was the perfect reward for the boy -- who still paused to give his master a solemn bow before scampering down the hallways toward the hangar.

"Eves is impressed with his skill," Obi-Wan observed and moved to pour out refreshment for his master.

"As he should be. The boy is a natural pilot." Qui-Gon said and closed his hand over his padawan's hand before he could pour the tea. Obi-Wan went still, glancing up at his master in confusion, but not alarm. 'The time for your trials is set. Three days."

Obi-Wan's lips thinned but he nodded and pulled his hand away to continue its task. "I will be ready, Master," he said quietly.

Qui-Gon did not argue with him and accepted the cup when offered. It had been but five months since they had returned to Naboo and a goodly portion of that Obi-Wan had spent recovering. Only in the last couple of months had he returned to his training and the differences were not dangerous ones. If anything, his form was improved. His reflexes sharper, his concentration near absolute. It would not do for his own doubts to color Obi-Wan's confidence and there would be nothing in the trials that would be more severe than the tests Obi-Wan had already passed.

"You have been ready for some time, padawan. It is but a formality...of sorts," Qui-Gon said, not willing to stretch the truth even that far.

Making his own tea, Obi-Wan nodded and then looked at his master. "Or I could tell them I do not wish to take the trials."

"Is that what you wish?" Qui-Gon asked, refusing to shade even that much of his padawan's decisions.

"I am not afraid to take them, or even to ...fail them," he said. His gaze did not drop.

Qui-Gon nodded. The tea was suddenly bitter and he set it aside.

"Does it matter so much to you that I pass?" Obi-Wan asked him. His gaze was as open as ever, possibly more so with no one else to see.

"There was a time when it mattered very much to you, padawan," Qui-Gon said.

"You didn't answer."

"No, I did not," Qui-Gon agreed and stepped in, closing the distance between them. His hands came up to grip Obi-Wan's arms, feeling the firm muscle beneath the sleeves of the loose tunic. "But then I have all I could ever want in you, Obi-Wan. Pass or fail," he said with a smile and leaned in to kiss his padawan's forehead then obligingly laid a kiss on the mouth lifted to his own.

Obi-Wan did remember to set his tea cup down before his arms slid around his master's waist.

"I will pass or fail as the Force dictates, Master. I have heard that often enough," Obi-Wan said.

"There is some part of it that is decided by you, Obi-Wan," he was reminded gently. Qui-Gon folded his arms around the younger man, resting his cheek on the cropped hair.

"I know. I am not afraid, master."

"No, padawan. Not of failure. Not even of death any longer. There are few things that you fear at all, any longer," Qui-Gon murmured and it was true. All the trials he had been through had cured Obi-Wan of those things.

Or stolen the fire that made such fears possible. The sense of patience that Qui-Gon so often sensed in his padawan now was the patience not of a calm spirit, but one which knew that in time, little of his passion now would matter. And Qui-Gon had few ideas on how to rekindle it.

There were the obvious ones and they had tested those waters only recently, Qui-Gon finding Obi-Wan a generous lover who easily lost himself in the sensations of the moment, giving or receiving. But even there, in their bed, it was as if the distance between them was not widened, but closed to a point where they once more became one person.

It was not as the romantics would have it. Satisfying in certain ways, but so was the separation of self, to be able to appreciate one's lover without being so totally a part of him. Not that he was willing to exchange what he had for some vague idea of what could have been, but neither did he hide his regret from his padawan.

Obi-Wan had been changed both by his brush with the Dark Side and by his own solution to it. He had done his duty to the Jedi and would continue to do so for as long as he lived whether he made Knight or not, whether he failed and was required to turn in his lightsaber and leave their ranks.

The last was not likely to happen for Qui-Gon had made it very clear that he was still bound to walk where Obi-Wan walked and fought where he fought, whatever the battle --even if it were only to battle the unfolding years. There were rebel alliances already forming and no doubt they would be glad of the aid of two Jedi-trained warriors into their ranks.

Which would still leave the issue of Anakin and the Council was not comfortable there either. They also disliked being placed in such a position.

But they would abide by it. As Qui-Gon would abide by the outcome of Obi-Wan's trials.

He found a smile for Obi-Wan, arranging the long braid on his shoulder. "As it will be then. Starting tomorrow you will have three days of meditation, but you are to check with the healers before you take on fasting." Another formality. Fasting was required, or rather, strongly recommended. Yoda would not have set the trials if he did not already know that Obi-Wan's body could sustain the demands placed upon it.

"I will be careful, Master," Obi-Wan replied, scolding his master lightly. "Please don't worry about me."

"It would seem I am destined to worry about you regardless so of how pointless it may seem. But not to the point of distraction." He regarded his padawan and then stepped back. "I should leave you to your--"

Obi-Wan's fingers pressed over his lips, the shifting grays, blues and greens of his eyes appearing brighter. "Tomorrow, Qui-Gon," he said, barely a breath. "But for today, tonight, nothing has changed."

"Even after your trials, nothing will change, most-loved."

It will...do not fear it... Obi-Wan's thoughts were but a brush on his mind. "I will see to our meal," he said aloud and moved away, taking up once more, for the last time, those duties of an apprentice.

And making sure Anakin was occupied for the evening, Qui-Gon had no doubt. For his own part he sought his own meditations, ever alert in some part of his mind of Obi-Wan's movements through their apartments. The scent of fresh food brought him out finally and he rose, letting the blood move more normally through his limbs and went to join his padawan for the evening meal.

He obviously had not been paying enough attention. Twilight had settled and fragrances drifted in through the open windows from the palace gardens. The room lights were set low and additional illumination provided by candles. A pot of something steamed and the aroma sent his stomach twitching in hunger. Beside it sat a plate of grains, equally aromatic. Obi-Wan was crouched over another brazier, preparing a spicy tea to go with their meal, but he rose as his master entered.

The robe he wore was one Amidala had made when he was recovering, when overly sensitive skin found some fabrics irritating. Soft and warm because of the skill of the weave, the robe was nonetheless very light, narrow, the slitted sides allowing Obi-Wan to move without tangling his legs in the cloth. Qui-Gon was very fond of the robe, wondering if the Queen had any idea how well it suited his padawan's grace.

No doubt she did. Amidala was young but not blind and during Obi-Wan's recovery she had made time to spend with the young Jedi, her regard for him growing as did Obi-Wan's for her. She and Qui-Gon still clashed on occasion, but their disagreements were born of respect for one another and her trust in Qui-Gon's motives was absolute.

But in Obi-Wan she had found both and ally and a counselor. It was a benefit to both of them.

And to the Jedi at large.

There are many ways to serve the Force. Perhaps if Obi-Wan failed it would not be so difficult an adjustment to make.

"Master?" Obi -Wan was watching him and seeing Qui-Gon focus on him, gestured to the table for Qui-Gon to take his place and then began serving, ladling out the clear soup into a shallow bowl.

"You went to a great deal of trouble, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon commented, picking up his bowl. There was a flush to his padawan's face that was not entirely from the heat of the steaming pots.

"The reward is in the doing, master," Obi-Wan said, almost formally. "If I recall correctly, a young padawan is liable to provide you with underwarmed soups and overcooked grains." There was a small smile playing on his lips as he served the main course.

"Which is still a vast improvement over my own cooking," Qui-Gon said, answering that smile.

They ate companionably, most of their talk turning to Anakin's progress, Obi-Wan taking the conservative view as he usually did. He was not Anakin's master so his comments were presented as observation only. A born diplomat his Obi-Wan had become.

The meal was finished and they lingered yet over their tea, until Obi-Wan began to clear the dishes. Qui-Gon watched him, savoring the last of the spice on his tongue, knowing Obi-Wan was waiting, as he so often did, for his master to initiate any further contact.

But Qui-Gon did not. It was difficult and the idea had come to him while he watched Obi-Wan serve. Once before he had confused his position as teacher with that of lover. He would not do so again.

He noticed the change before Obi-Wan did, the normally assured movements becoming less certain as Obi-Wan neared the end of his tasks. Dishes were set on a tray to be taken back to the kitchens. When there was no indication from his master that his duties would be interrupted, he gathered them together to carry away.

Qui-Gon let him go, looking around the chamber, a sad smile on his lips. There was pride there yet, but Obi-Wan had made the choice to cast off anything he found as a weakness, to eliminate any further temptation to the Dark.

Need was such a weakness. His padawan wanted Qui-Gon, he wanted to become a Jedi, but his only need was never again to be caught between choices. Rising slowly and feeling his years, Qui-Gon went to his own rooms and shed his clothes, folding them carefully on the press at the end of his bed before slipping on his robe. A bath perhaps.

They would adjust to this as well, he thought, gathering towels and left his chamber. When he was done he would seek out Obi-Wan. There had been no denial meant in his lack of action, only a ...trial of his own.

Which I failed.

He stopped in the common room, breath caught. Obi-Wan had gotten far too good at hiding his presence -- even from his master. He stood against the outer door.

"Not failed, Obi-Wan. There was nothing to be gained or lost. You are as you are and I do not seek to change you. Only to know your heart better." He moved into the room and set the towels on the table cleared from their meal.

"And do you?"

"At least as well as I know my own."

"And you...desire me."

"Most frequently, Obi-Wan," he murmured and held out his hand. "That has not changed nor ever will."

He had not seen such confusion on his padawan's face nor felt it burning within him for many months. He had not intended to place it there...or had he?

Obi-Wan came forward, fingers closing over Qui-Gon's, stepping around the table. Do you fear that desire, Obi-Wan?

No, master. Only...

"Your own," Qui-Gon said and nodded. "I understand, padawan. It changes nothing."

"I keep telling myself that, master, that things must change but I feel...that if I ..."

Qui-Gon caught his padawan's face between his hands, thumb stroking over his lips and then along the shallow cleft of his chin. "Some things will change no matter our desires, Obi-Wan, else we would always be frozen in one moment. But some things change less. What I feel for you is more likely to deepen, not lessen. And if you are content as you are, then I will...be content also. And glad, as always, of your presence in my life. What was past cannot be changed. So from this point forward, you will always know you are loved at this moment."

He got a nod, and once more kissed the soft mouth. "I was but going to bathe. I will join you shortly, Obi-Wan. For the rest of the night," he added so there could be no mistake.

He did not linger, using the brief time to clear his mind. He had promised and had meant what he had told Obi-Wan on Yavin. The damage was not fatal but it looked to be permanent. So, Qui-Gon would love what he had been given and not regret the loss of what might have been.

Obi-Wan was not in Qui-Gon's room, nor his own. The loose robe had been discarded and his padawan's lightsaber was gone.

He did not allow himself to panic, seeking his student carefully, and found him, without much effort, on the training field, the shields set high, the safeties off. His student was working himself mercilessly on the rings and platforms. No training lights were on, Obi-Wan running the sets by ambient light from the night sky and the spill from the palace alone, the shadows distorted. Already his skin was sheened with sweat, his face rigid in concentration.

Qui-Gon felt his padawan's awareness of his master snap into place and then the sensation was gone as Obi-Wan twisted to make the next pass, hand to ring, ankle to bar, swing, and the targets rose. The flash of his saber added to the strange half-light as three targets dissipated and he twisted again to barely miss a searing strike on his shoulder.

Qui-Gon sat and did not move, made no protest as he watched his padawan drive himself to the edge of his speed and endurance, acutely aware of when the breathing became labored, the rapid beat of Obi-Wan's heart outpacing his ability to control it.

He was like a wild thing, caught in a trap, flying this way and that and refusing to surrender. The rigid control he had set upon himself was being eroded by the combination of his physical efforts and his own will.

Stop this, you should not.

I know. Qui-Gon spared only the thought, not surprised the other masters were aware of the display. That they would not interfere.

He closed his eyes briefly as one of the drones scored a hit, leaving the scent of burnt flesh in the air, but it was destroyed a moment later. The set indicator was climbing. It would be over soon if Obi-Wan did not break his neck first.

Then it was over and the shields dropped, Obi-Wan touching foot to mat a moment later, his saber disengaged. Panting heavily, he regarded his master, his expression unreadable. Without a word Qui-Gon came forward, studied his padawan for a long moment and then, without warning, scooped up the trembling body and carried him, without care of who would see, back to their rooms. Halfway there Obi-Wan relaxed.

What did you prove?

What I meant to. Had I not finished the set...I would not have taken my trials. I have to want it...to pass...

It goes deeper than that, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sent, not quite angry, but close.

I know, now... Obi-Wan returned as they reached their rooms, Qui-Gon kicking the doors closed behind them. Once there, Obi-Wan twisted in his arms and slipped free, tossing his saber almost carelessly to the side as he stalked toward his own room, stripping off his sweat soaked tunic. Livid burns stood out on one arm and across his ribs.

A pot of a healing unguent was on the table next to the neatly made bed and Qui-Gon picked it up, scooping out the salve to cover the burns. Obi-Wan did not move, his breathing rapidly brought back under control, his face remote. Distancing himself once more from his feelings.

With effort, it seemed, as beneath that calm face his thoughts were in turmoil. "Is it not the point to seek a balance?" he said evenly as Qui-Gon's hands moved over his ribs.

"It is. A balance you have found."

"But that you do not approve of," Obi-Wan said.

Closing the lid on the jar, Qui-Gon sat on his apprentice's bed, looking up at his padawan's face. "Whether I approve or not is not the point. But, in fact, I do approve. Your choices need not be mine for them to be right for you, Obi-Wan. We are not meant to be clones of one another. Your strengths lay in different areas than do mine."

"In closing myself off from all emotion. Peace, honor, strength."

"You have all three."

"As do you but still you have desire...frustration..."

Qui-Gon smiled a little. There was little emotion in his padawan's voice, but it was there, beneath the surface, tightly reined in. "And in the meditations for the next three days perhaps you will find that balance as well." He set the jar aside, folding his hands around a raised knee. "All Jedi must face the Dark at some point. As we must face and know any enemy. Would you have me chastise you for successfully meeting that challenge?"

"I did not defeat it. I merely learned to make myself an unseen target." There was more bitterness in his voice than Qui-Gon had heard since Yavin.

"And what cannot be found cannot be used against you, or us...you cannot think this is a bad thing?"

"Neither can I sense it, and that is not a good thing, is it, Master?"

"You know it is there, nonetheless."

"Waiting," Obi-Wan said, a faint tremor in the undertones.

"For all of us. Nothing has changed, padawan," he said the last gently, softly, once more reaching for his padawan's hand, uncurling the fingers from the loose fists they formed. But one hand flew out, hovering, then came to land lightly on Qui-Gon's cheek, the thumb stroking over the cheekbone and into the soft beard below. A knee on the bed and Obi-Wan was still above him, bending to claim his mouth as Qui-Gon had claimed Obi-Wan's earlier. The younger man smelled of sweat and blood and the salve on his skin, of fear and desire and a dozen other emotions and scents all tossed together like some exotic sauce, enough to make a meal of in itself.

Deft hands sought the skin beneath the open throat of his robe, skimming over flesh and muscle as if they had eyes of their own and perhaps they did. His own hands seemed to have minds of their own, seeking the overheated skin at Obi-Wan's back, the slight curve of his waist. Illness and exercise had pared him down, leaving only the essential musculature intact.

His mouth sought Qui-Gon's hungrily, not quite desperately, but there was that too, tightly leashed, the focus shifting to provide pleasure as much as take it, aggression exchanged for fervor. Cooler air washed over Qui-Gon's shoulders when his padawan pushed the fabric back, strong hands sliding from his shoulders down along his back then up again to tangle in his hair, Obi-Wan folding his leg beneath him so they would be more on a level. He leaned back, pulling Qui-Gon with him, surrendering control of the kiss to his Master, eyes darkening noticeably.

The desire is there, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sent gently as impatient hands pulled again at his robe until it hung around his waist. For this...where you feel safest.

There was an almost despairing quality to the laughter than he heard in his mind, and only in his mind -- his mouth and tongue blocking any sound from escaping Obi-Wan's throat. Slim hips raised against him and he obliged, peeling off groin wrap and leggings, baring more pale skin, to see it glow and shine in the dim light, fingers brushing across sensitive flesh only to hear Obi-Wan's sharp intake of breath, echoed a moment later by his own groan of pleasure. His fingers wrapped around the slim braid, canting Obi-Wan's head so that his mouth could be devoured again, explored, teased...savored, the warmth of it flooding through Qui-Gon like a burst of sunlight. A push of urgent hands and his robe finished its slide from his body, falling over his thighs as he stretched out over his lover. A shift and he lay between Obi-Wan's legs, feeling the tensile strength in the thighs that rose to clasp and hold him.

There were times when Qui-Gon wished he were a much younger man. Or perhaps not, when Obi-Wan shifted again, rolling his spine, his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon's face, alive, flushed...almost laughing. Qui-Gon hissed in pleasure, and held himself back, casting about for something -- handy -- that would ease the joining his padawan seemed intent on demanding.

I had not intended to spend my evening on the practice field, master. Obi-Wan was definitely laughing at him now, eyes dancing as he squirmed slightly, body open and ready, slick and moist.

You are far too sure of yourself, Qui-Gon growled back and caught the laughing mouth, pressing hard against the waiting warmth, past muscle and heat, holding his padawan as tightly and gently as he could as the slim body arched upward against his.

As easily as their bodies fit together so did his padawan fit inside his mind, every nuance of pleasure communicated and shared. Strong hands clutched at his shoulders, then around his neck, bodies rocking in a rhythm nearly as perfect as Obi-Wan's performance on the rings. Nor did Qui-Gon miss any point of his lover's pleasure, the knowledge reinforced by the moans and grunts and gasps of pleasure poured into his ear or muffled against his skin. Rigid flesh pressed against his belly, one hand again tangled in his hair as if to gain anchorage against a storm.

Which it was. The force of it triggering both of them, sending tension, then release through their intertwined bodies, until the storm passed and left them with only the calm breezes of the night air, unperturbed by the tempest that had enclosed them for timeless moments. One moment and forward forever.

Lax bodies provided better cushioning, kept the liquid heat warmer longer, even as it spread out to infuse their bodies and Qui-Gon kissed away the tiny pool of sweat at Obi-Wan's throat. He smiled at the small hum of approval he heard, a hum that turned slightly protesting as Qui-Gon disengaged his body and rolled to lay on his side beside Obi-Wan.

Lack of passion was not Obi-Wan's problem. Not entirely. Safety, or the illusion of it could not be interchanged blindly with denial.

He rested his hand on Obi-Wan's diaphragm, feeling the fluttering of his breath, the pounding of his heart. He remained unmoving until his padawan's body calmed, and with it, the tumultuous emotions of earlier seemed to have found their resting place as well.

Then and only then did he move his hand to stroke the side of his lover's face and was rewarded by the turn of Obi-Wan's head, steady gaze holding his own.

It was Qui-Gon who crept into the embrace and comfort of his lover's arm, resting his head against the warm chest and lulled to sleep by the soft stroking of a hand in his hair.

The only failure that pains me would be to fail you

Then you have no need to fear anything, most-loved, Qui-Gon returned and felt the thought accepted, examined, and then stored safely away.

When he awoke it was alone and with the light blankets pulled carefully up and around him to ward him from the chill of morning. A brief probe revealed Obi-Wan's presence, but he was distant, already deep in his mediations and barely acknowledging his Master's query. He withdrew his mind, slipped his robe back on and denied himself the urge to breathe deeply of the still-warm bed.

Anakin appeared shortly afterward, carefully bearing a tray with morning rations, his concentration entirely focused on not spilling anything.

So it would be from now forward and Qui-Gon found a smile and thanks for his young padawan, inviting him to begin his meal while his master bathed and changed clothes. The porridge was slightly cool when he returned, but filling nonetheless and he set himself to Anakin's lesson, resetting his own expectations to once more take on a student of tender years and unlimited potential.

More than once he had to wrestle his thoughts back to the task at hand rather than let them stray toward Obi-Wan, sequestered now in a separate suite. Even more difficult was it to watch Anakin's practice on the training set, to correct and encourage him. Not because Anakin was particularly clumsy, for he was not, and showed the same tendency for taking risks that outreached his skill as his predecessor had. But it may have done them both good for Qui-Gon to have had some time between one padawan and the next. There was logic behind the tradition of a Master training only one Apprentice at a time.

It was quieter in their suite. Not from lack of conversation but in mood -- a mood Anakin was perceptive enough to pick up on. But only once did he ask.

"Are you worried about Obi-Wan?"

"I want him to do well. As I want you to do well."

"But you miss him?"

Qui-Gon had to smile at that. "I do. But he will return to us soon."

Anakin regarded him gravely and nodded. "I miss my mom. But...she said if I wanted to see her again I would. So you will see him again."

The absolute conviction of youth. Anakin was far more like his predecessor than Obi-Wan would ever admit.

For Qui-Gon, the three days passed slowly and never so slowly as at night, but once or twice he felt Obi-Wan's presence merge with his own, briefly but there, as if his padawan were checking to make sure he were all right. He would offer reassurance and love, faith and trust and the ghost would slip away again.

The physical part of the trials would be public, or at least not private, and it took Qui-Gon a moment to realize he had seen none of the other Masters prior to this. A courtesy he hoped, and not an indicator of their unspoken fears that he would somehow interfere in Obi-Wan's trials.

He almost excused himself from the first part for exactly the same reason, but when Obi-Wan emerged, calm and waiting, he remained, acknowledging that if Obi-Wan were to be distracted by his presence or absence he would not have been judged ready for this at all.

Amidala had sought and received permission to attend, but there were not many observers. Master Tirs set the patterns and levels of the set and removed the safeties once more. The shields came up to protect those outside the training field and it began.

There were really few doubts in Qui-Gon's mind that Obi-Wan would make it through this part of his trials with little difficulty. Effort yes, plainly visible in the straining muscles, in the multiple points of concentration required to both move through the patterns, attack, defend, and maintain the target balls all at once. Qui-Gon did not recall his own trial being quite so difficult, however, but it might be distance and time, or it may be that his student had so far exceeded him in this arena that the Trial Masters had seen fit to increase the difficulty.

The last pattern emerged and Qui-Gon found himself aching, he was so tense. He automatically released the tension in his body and caught his breath as Obi-Wan made an impossibly long reach, deflected and managed to claim a target all in one movement. It was over then, the shields dropping and the score displayed, Obi-Wan barely glancing at it. It was near perfect.

Obi-Wan was regaining control of his breathing, attempting slow, deep breaths, but knelt when Yoda approached to hold an image on a palm projector. A small box, ornately carved. "This you must find before the next test you face."

There was more to it than the image, Yoda communicating the feel and 'self' of the box. Obi-Wan took only a moment to lock that information into his mind then another to center and focus outward, then he was moving, loping off past the training field and past the gardens, seeking his target.

It was dusk before he returned, tired, slightly dirty, the whites of his tunic and leggings stained with mud but the small box he held was intact, if damp. "An hour you have," Yoda granted him and glanced at Qui-Gon who came forward to offer his student a cool juice drink and a restorative broth. Obi-Wan already looked weary and was but he accepted all with the same calm and quiet thanks then found a quiet place to meditate for his allotted rest and Qui-Gon left him to return to their suite.

Master?

He should not have been surprised, nor was he really, and equally caught between gladness that Obi-Wan had spoken to him and ready to admonish his student to take his rest when he could. Save that in this, Obi-Wan's judgment of his own limits was as much on trial as his skill level.

You have done very well, Obi-Wan, he sent, deciding on approval alone and no effort at all to make that ring true.

I have had the best teacher, after all, was returned with equal amounts of amusement and truth.

His own amusement was fed back but he waited; Obi-Wan had contacted him, after all.

Only to... He hesitated, turned the thoughts over again. I cannot fight what I avoid, Master.

There was doubt there -- not for the thought itself but what it represented.

No, Obi-Wan, you cannot.

I wanted you to know. It had the touch of a good-bye in it and Qui-Gon clung to the contact long after Obi-Wan had severed it. He continued to hold the echo of that contact until he heard a knock on his door and Anakin answering. He was so focused on Obi-Wan he barely acknowledged Master Tirs and Master Therad. He did not even need to ask to know why they had come. Reluctantly, he released that fragment of contact and presented himself to the other Masters. He reassured Anakin momentarily and then felt his own thoughts reflected back on him under the steady skill of his colleagues.

The precaution was understandable. Obi-Wan could not turn to him for help and his own urge to aid his padawan had to be forestalled. He was not the first Master to be so blocked during his padawan's trials, nor was he likely to be the last. With a touch on Anakin's shoulder he returned them to the lesson, his own concentration understandably better than Anakin's who was having difficulty deciphering the undercurrents in the room.

Even after Anakin was in bed, Qui-Gon could feel the encasement of his thoughts, the Masters maintaining their vigilance in denying contact between Qui-Gon and his student, regardless of who might initiate it. He did not rest, only meditated. Sleep would be useless and counterproductive at this point.

The potential for damage in any Jedi trial was high. Physically, mentally, their connection with the Force, the method in which a candidate used it, worked with it, read it, all were on trial -- as well as how much of themselves they put into the effort. Prior to Yavin, Obi-Wan had been prone to throw himself incautiously into the Force, using it as birds use air currents or fishes used water. His skill had been rather remarkable.

And undisciplined, for which Qui-Gon could only blame himself. There was a reason apprentices were taught to build their light sabers before they were taught to use them. Obi-Wan had fallen so easily into the physical manipulation of the Force, it had seemed he would have little difficulty with the mental and emotional nuances as well. And perhaps he might have. He had certainly found new ways to so use those resonances in the Force.

But no two trials were ever alike and Qui-Gon had not been made privy to the specifics of his padawan's trial. It was not the Jedi way to carelessly sacrifice a life or mind solely for testing, to fill their ranks but occasionally accidents happened, miscalculations were made, limits could be exceeded.

It was mid-morning before he felt the barriers ease, seeking Obi-Wan almost as quickly only to have Yoda's familiar presence fill his mind.

Tend young Kenobi, you will. Young Skywalker I will see to.

Then the elder Master was gone with no indication of the results of the trial and only the instruction that Obi-Wan was in the infirmary. "Anakin, Master Yoda requires your presence and I will fetch you later for our meal," he said, hopefully easing any anxiety the boy might have.

Had it been more serious, Yoda would have told him, but he reached for Obi-Wan's thoughts to discern the necessity of his presence.

A minor injury only, Master, Obi-Wan returned, the pain manageable, but his manner was subdued.

Healer Nessil greeted him with a smile. "It is not serious. Torn ligaments," she said, adjusting the med-droid to repair the damage to Obi-Wan's arm. "A day of rest and he will be turning handsprings in mid-air, again. When this has finished he may return to his rooms." She wrinkled her nose, but smiled still. "A bath would be my next prescription."

Qui-Gon set his anxieties aside, perching on the edge of the bed to take Obi-Wan's hand. A bath was definitely called for. It would seem at least part of his trials had taken place in a swamp.

"My trials were done when I did this," Obi-Wan said jerking his chin toward the immobilized arm. "At least I believe they were." His voice was steady but the tremor was there nonetheless, barely audible. He looked to Qui-Gon to confirm.

"I can tell you nothing. Yoda sent me only to collect you when you were done here." A damp towel appeared at his elbow before Nessil drifted away to tend to other things, and Qui-Gon used it to bathe the sweat and dirt from Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan was making no effort to reach past his master's shields and Qui-Gon chafed under the restriction, but respected it.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan leaned back against the bed. "As far as I recall, I did not run screaming back to the palace," he said with a wry smile which hardened to a frown a moment later. When he opened his eyes to look at Qui-Gon, there was anger there, just below the surface. "It was you I fought, Qui-Gon. You they set up as the enemy. I expected myself. Or Maul, but they set me against the one person I trust above all others and they twisted it. I almost refused."

It made sense though Qui-Gon regretted the necessity. His fingers rubbed over the dried flakes of mud on Obi-Wan's hand. "Do you think me immune to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan?" he asked seriously. "Any man can fail."

"I know that," Obi-Wan said wearily and pulled his hand away to push it through his hair. "And I knew it was not you."

"Was it not?" Qui-Gon said steadily, knowing full well it had been as much of himself as could be presented without his actual presence and knowing now why Yoda had not pronounced the trial passed or failed. Obi-Wan was not done yet.

Denial sprang to the blue eyes, then surprise as Obi-Wan's attempt to reach into Qui-Gon's mind was blocked.

"Your trials are to expose your weaknesses so that you may overcome them," Qui-Gon said steadily. "It would seem the Masters rightfully determined that I would be your weakness."

With a steadiness Qui-Gon did not feel, he rose, stepping away from the bed to let the droid finish and then gestured for Obi-Wan to precede him.

A shock for you this is not

No, Master, Qui-Gon grated out his response. I take it ' I ' was defeated.

Easily. Believe it was you, he did not. Will not. Stubborn he is.

Or loyal.

Or in love, Yoda responded disdainfully. Such loyalty is dangerous in a Jedi.

It was. Could be. He would not sacrifice others for himself or me, he sent with as much conviction as he could and little of it feigned.

Sure of that you are.

In front of him, Obi-Wan stopped. Yoda had made the thought available to both of them.

What proof...??

No proof, young Kenobi. What say you? A threat to your master you see. A threat to others. Innocents or not so innocent. The choice is yours. The judgment, yours also. What choice make you?

It was all Qui-Gon could do to not reach out touch the tense shoulders in front of him. The answer was not as easy as it seemed. Easy to say many over one. Easy to say Jedi pledged their lives to protect others, to maintain the balance in the Force. But it was never that simple.

Obi-Wan did not answer. Qui-Gon could feel the half-formed thoughts, the choices Obi-Wan wrestled with in trying to find the answer that would satisfy Master Yoda. But he could not. He simply did not know.

Yoda's sigh could almost be heard. So thought I. Bathe and dress and attend the Council Obi-Wan Kenobi. He did not summon Qui-Gon immediately to him.

"I'm sorry, master," Obi-Wan murmured and Qui-Gon closed the distance, finally able to lay his hand on the pale shoulder.

"Nothing has changed, Obi-Wan." His arm slipped around the other shoulder, to lead the other man as much as to provide comfort. "No decision has been made."

Obi-Wan was once more calm as they entered the council room, his lightsaber in hand. He had said little more while he bathed nor during their journey to the large room Amidala had given over to the council.

Qui-Gon stopped in side the door, letting his padawan continue to the center of the room alone and bow to the Masters assembled there. Yoda, Tirs, Therad, half a dozen in all, Qui-Gon's own status voided by the simple fact that Obi-Wan was his student.

Going to one knee, Obi-Wan dipped his head before meeting the combined gazes, back straight, body relaxed and mind quiet.

"You have demonstrated a fine mastery of the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Master Tirs began. "You have done your training and your master credit."

"My thanks, Master," Obi-Wan murmured.

"We have not failed to take into consideration the trials you have faced and overcome in the past year. That you recovered so well says much about you, young Kenobi. You have earned nothing but the highest regard of this Council and of the Jedi. Were you to leave our ranks today, you would still have provided a great service to this order."

Qui-Gon could detect no shadings in Tirs' tone, nothing to indicate which way the decision would go. Accolades were not the usual style of the council.

"Many trials you have faced. Enemies you have overcome," Yoda spoke softly, almost on a level with Obi-Wan where he sat and the over-large eyes seemed to search for something in the Apprentice's face or bearing. "Strange are the ways of the Force. The Future is not clear. Shifting it is, always." He tapped his cane. "But see glimpses I do. Know what I see, would you?"

"Knowledge but can help to guide our steps, Master." Obi-Wan spoke respectfully, but there were flashes showing of his former impatience. He was weary and wished only to know his fate with the Jedi.

"Two paths I see for you, young Kenobi," Yoda said and the chamber was quiet, Qui-Gon straining to hear what Yoda said and not knowing why it was so difficult. "Long is one path. There will be much pain, many regrets. Joys will be few. Suffer defeat you will, then triumph, then defeat. Alone you will be for much of your life."

Qui-Gon held his breath as Obi-Wan did. It was both like and unlike Yoda to present so bleak a future, to project so far ahead. But the younger man said nothing, only waited, his posture becoming stiffer.

"Shorter is the other path, with joy but brief, and behind you already, much suffering. More grief to follow. Both paths, serve you will. The Jedi, The Force, your master, yourself. Choose you must."

Obi-Wan controlled his gasp for air so that no sound attended it. "Are you asking me to choose, Master?"

"Choose you must," Yoda said again, his tone more gentle and he reached out to take the lightsaber from Obi-Wan's hand and held it in both of his.

"But which is which, Master?"

Even before he asked the question Qui-Gon knew he would get no answer.

Obi-Wan realized it as well. "The future shifts, Master. Nothing is set but the choices we make, not the choices we might have made." He hesitated only for a moment, blindly reaching for Qui-Gon's presence, and finding it, firm as a hand clasp.

Then reached for his saber.

Yoda released it without resistance. "A knight you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A Jedi. Welcome among us, you are."

"Thank you, Master," it was barely a whisper. "And the path I have chosen?"

Yoda reached out and touched his face very lightly, eyes and mouth crinkling in a rare smile. "Matters, it does?"

A small smile curved Obi-Wan's lips. "No, master. Matters, it does not." He bowed his head. Yoda rested his stubby hand on the bright hair for a moment and met Qui-Gon's eyes, releasing between them, alone, all of what he had seen.

Qui-Gon nodded, a sign of respect to his Master and stored the revelations deep within himself then came forward, to knee beside his....brother.

"Never better have you trained, Master Jinn," Yoda said and Master Therad came forward with a small blade on a cushion, offering it to Qui-Gon.

Allow me the honor of this memory, Obi-Wan Kenobi? Qui-Gon sent, throat too tight for words, though all in the chamber heard him.

"The honor is mine, Master." Pitched slightly lower than Obi-Wan's usual tone, his fingers tightening on the saber as Qui-Gon carefully lifted his braid and cut it free, wrapping the long strand around his hand.

Obi-Wan rose and Qui-Gon took the sash Master Therad offered wrapping it around the new Knight's waist, tucking the ends carefully, then stepped back while each of the Masters came forward to add their welcome and congratulations.

There was little more to the ceremony, a single pass of refreshments and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon made their good-nights, walking back toward their rooms. But before they reached the stairs, Obi-Wan stopped, releasing a breath he had been holding for some time.

"Master," he said, not looking at Qui-Gon.

It did not even occur to Qui-Gon to correct the form of address. Instead he laid his hand on the tight shoulder. "Here, Obi-Wan," he answered, as if it were not obvious.

"The paths Master Yoda offered me. Do you know them?" His voice was steady, even.

A pause only. "I do."

I would know.

There was no pause at all. The future could and would shift as events dictated not as even Master Yoda did. Then you shall, Qui-Gon responded and slipped his arm around Obi-Wan's waist, steering him down the corridor and outside, into a small courtyard. He kept himself shielded until they were beyond the walls and he was certain no one was near. He did not insist that either of them sit only caught the slender hands in his own and opened his thoughts.

Obi-Wan swayed, as much a physical reaction as an emotional one. Qui-Gon braced him then folded his arms around his lover, pressing his lips to the bright hair. Your choice neither shortens nor lengthens my life, Obi-Wan. My death will come in its own time. The details were not clear, too many things were changing too quickly for Yoda to be able to so predict a particular event.

Mine could be closer. There was grief there but not overwhelming.

And you think that would bring me joy? Most-loved, he scolded gently. "I would prefer to think our cause would be better served if we both led long lives, but surely, one of us doing so is better than neither?" he prodded softly. "And nothing is so determined," he reminded the younger man, even smiling a bit as Obi-Wan lifted his head, eyes bright. "Master Yoda was very much against my returning to Naboo the second time," he said with a straight face.

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, for Obi-Wan to accept once more that the future was not static. "The path you chose is yours alone, Obi-Wan. Even if I share that path for a few years or many. What we have, together, cannot be undone by futures near or far. This moment is all we have."

"'The one past us beyond our reach; the next, not yet in our grasp'," Obi-Wan murmured, quoting the lesson as if for the first time. Perhaps it was the first time Obi-Wan had ever really understood how much truth lay inside it.

Just so, most-loved, Qui-Gon agreed, and gave only the briefest warning before his mouth closed over his lover's. He tasted the weariness in the kiss that was returned, but peace as well. His Obi-Wan would sleep soundly tonight, if Qui-Gon had to stand watch until dawn broke.

Obi-Wan was steadier as they walked back, arms barely brushing. Low lights had been left on in their rooms. Anakin was asleep, but he roused as they entered and checked on him.

"Are you a Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan?" he asked sleepily, too sleepy to take in the missing braid or the fact that Obi-Wan retained his saber.

"I am Anakin. As you will be," Obi-Wan reassured him and pulled the blankets up.

"Good," was the final stamp of approval before the boy slipped back into his dreams. They left him, closing the door quietly, Qui-Gon guiding his lover's steps toward his room and then helping him undress. Obi-Wan tried to return the assistance, but his hands kept straying toward exposed skin, despite his fatigue, until Qui-Gon removed the temptation by pushing him down on the bed and stripping off his own robes before Obi-Wan could quite struggle up from the blankets.

Surrender, however, came only after Qui-Gon had managed to get the blankets over both of them.

"Master?" Obi-Wan's eyes were closed, his voice but a whisper against Qui-Gon's shoulder.

"No longer, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon reminded him and then chuckled at the vaguely rude sound his bedmate made. "What? You should sleep. It is possible to ask questions in the daylight," he added, feeling light-hearted and content.

"Never remember them," Obi-Wan said sleepily but summoned energy enough to lift his head. "Were you offered such a choice?"

"So late at night, something of a more recent history would be appreciated," Qui-Gon sighed and stroked the cropped hair until it dropped lightly back on his chest.

Qui-Gon-- there was almost a demand in the tone. The question perhaps more important than he had first credited.

"Not in such a fashion, no," he said, letting his hand trail along the exposed back. "I was judged headstrong, stubborn but competent. Yoda predicted that I would plague him endlessly. And so I have. On principal if nothing else."

"But you were offered a choice?" Obi-Wan's words sent a warm wash of air over his skin, adding pleasantly to the heat where his lover's hand rested on his breast, over his heart.

"Before my trials, yes. My Master was very proud of my skill, my concentration. But she warned me that in taking the path I did, I would very likely never understand what it meant to be a Jedi."

"That seems an odd thing to say," Obi-Wan murmured, lifting his head once more, confusion plain on his face.

"She was very nearly correct, most-loved." He hesitated, stroking the curve of his lover's cheek. "One last lesson then, padawan," he said with a faint smile. "The Force is neither Life nor Love. It simply is. For if it were either of those things, the Dark Side would not have the power it does to tempt."

I think I understand.

Better than I, padawan. I understood it to be neither. But my Master posed a riddle for me. If in seeking the path of the Force, we choose then to protect life, then what is the position of love within Force?

Obi-Wan considered, tired as he was, trying to twist his mind around the question. It exists separate from the Force, as Life does.

So I thought as well, Qui-Gon returned, carding his lover's hair gently. But the Force is strongest where life exists in its most abundant and unsuppressed form. Where peace is in the people you care most about, the land you work, the service you provide to others.

Which the Jedi are sworn to protect. And you are a Jedi, Master. You do hold all those things as important. How could you not understand what it means to be what you are?

And what am I, Obi-Wan Kenobi?

You are...a Jedi, wise...a teacher, a warrior, scholar... His confusion was now evident. A diplomat, a friend... "What?" Obi-Wan said, frowning slightly when his master began to chuckle.

"I think Yoda would present you with a different list but I thank you for your regard, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon received a half-glare before Obi-Wan dropped his head against his chest once more with a frustrated sigh. "You aren't going to answer the riddle are you?"

"I have on more then one occasion," Qui-Gon said softly and then moved swiftly, silencing Obi-Wan's squawk of alarm with his mouth as he pinned the other man gently to the bed. "What I lacked at the time of my trials was an understanding of why being a Jedi made all those things possible. Conquering the darker emotions was never so difficult for me as it was for you, Obi-Wan," he said quietly, pressing his lips to the smooth forehead. "Mastering hate, anger, even fear...because while I understood my duty and desired it, I could not answer her then as to why it was important to me. The calm in me you have envied for so long came not from any gain of inner peace on my part but from the lack of something. Until quite recently -- some twelve years or so ago, although I had seen glimpses of it. I did not let it trouble me over much."

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan growled warningly, moving beneath him and far more awake.

Were I not a Jedi, would you still love me so, Obi-Wan Kenobi? Qui-Gon asked seriously.

Were you not a Jedi we would have most likely have never met-- "Oh..." Obi-Wan said quietly, blinking as the thought settled.

"Others do what we do without being Jedi, without the aid of the Force, without ever knowing why they feel as they do. As you would have done. As I like to believe I would have done. But they do it for a reason far too simple to overlook, especially for a Jedi. The Force exists without our will, life will continue without out our will, but love...for life...is something that must be worked at for most people."

You never told me you were a romantic, Qui-Gon.

He chuckled again revealing the wonder of that realization to his lover. I am a stubborn old man who took far too much time to learn what his padawan knew from the beginning.

"So I am to be the teacher now?" Obi-Wan asked, the light from beyond their chamber revealing his smile.

"It would be a blessing, Master," Qui-Gon said.

"You have much faith in me, Master."

"As it should be, most-loved." Since your faith has answered all for both of us.

There was a sleepy protest, but Qui-Gon pressed his argument and like the diplomat he was found a compromise for both of them.

~~end~~