Master Apprentice Archive The Heart's Balance Quick search:

Archive: Sure

Feedback: Sure

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Child Abuse

Category: WIP, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, A/U

Summary: Qui-Gon is called back to the temple to find his balance. There, he helps a boy find his own balance.

Time frame: Obi-Wan is twelve

Spoilers: None

Notes: Thanx for the beta Anne!

The Garden of a Thousand Fountains was peaceful. The gentle murmur of water filled the air, along with the sound of birds and the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass. At this late hour the gardens were empty, just as Qui-Gon wanted. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody, to put up with the knowing looks, or listen to words of comfort.

It had been a long time since Qui-Gon had the opportunity to meditate in this garden. It had changed little in the past seven years. Some of the shrubs and trees were bigger, one of the fountains had been replaced. Hundreds of koi fish now swam in the pools--multiplied from the five he had released into the central fountain forty years ago. Every thing else was the same.

So much had changed in his life, and yet this garden seemed to remain the same.

On this date, seven years ago Xanatos turned to the Darkside. He put all of his faith into the boy and was betrayed. Or was he betrayed?

Was Xanato's turning inevitable because he was a bad teacher? In any case, he was blind to the boy's faults, a mistake he should have never made. It was a mistake he would never make again. He would never take another padawan. He felt the dull ache in his chest again.

It hurt, it still hurt. He guessed that pain would never go away. Like the garden, it would be one of those things that never changed.

"Thought I would find you here, I did." Yoda shuffled down the gravel path, towards Qui-Gon.

"Master." Qui-Gon nodded his head in respect to the little Jedi.

"Hiding from me, are you?"

Qui-Gon forced a polite smile. "From you? Never. My transport arrived an hour ago. I thought I'd visit the gardens, meditate before I came to visit."

"Humf! Hiding you are, Qui-Gon Jinn. See through you I can." Yoda sat down on a fountain's ledge. Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder. Yoda rarely used his whole name, and when he did, their conversation was never pleasant. "Sulking you are. Seven years it has been. Time to move on it is. Take a padawan you should."

"We've been through this before, my Master." It was time to change the subject. "When will the briefing for my next mission be held? My summons contained no date or time."

"No new mission you have."

"What?" His heart stopped. The only reasons he was never called back to the temple was to be briefed for a complicated or dangerous mission. They weren't taking him from field duty, were they? None of the flash of terror he felt showed in his quiet voice. Then why was I called back?"

Yoda's ears laid back and his eyes narrowed. "Unbalanced you are. Stay here until balance you find." The elder Jedi thrust a datapad into Qui-Gon's hands. "New assignment you have."

"Teaching?"

"Kata and saber techniques to advanced and intermediate initiates you will teach. Teach philosophy and art you will." Qui-Gon skimmed through the pad's contents. Yoda's voice held a sharp edge that Qui-Gon rarely heard. "When balance you find, return to field missions you will."

Yoda stood up. He stamped his gimmer stick on the ground to punctuate his words. "Time it is to move on. Stand still, in the shadows no longer you will. Loose you to the Dark I will not."

Yoda shuffled off, leaving Qui-Gon alone with his thoughts.

Padawan Kenobi couldn't go home. Not yet, not while his master was still mad at him. They had been at the temple for only a few days and he was already in trouble. Couldn't he do anything right? 'No' according to Master Menix. He told him so often enough.

In the five years since he had become the man's Padawan, he had never pleased Master Menix. When he was eight, he thought it was an honor to be the first of his age-mates to be selected as an apprentice. Now that he was thirteen, older and wiser in the ways of the world, he doubted if being a padawan was such a great thing. Obi-Wan wanted to be a Jedi more than anything, but the road to knighthood was not only hard, it was cruel.

Was it supposed to be cruel?

Obi-Wan sought out the fountain garden because he liked the sound of the water. But he was here mostly because there was no one else here. Or at least there was no one here until that tall Jedi showed up.

The man didn't seem to notice the boy huddled in-between two bushes. Obi-Wan scooted back until he was completely out of sight. Warily, he watched the Jedi. If the man found him, he would probably take him home, back to his Master. He knew he had to go back eventually, and the longer he procrastinated the worse the punishment would be. But Obi-Wan wasn't ready to go back yet. He was too scared.

Long brown hair tied back into a single braid, loose fitting khaki tunics, a large frame made the man look imposing. Almost as imposing as Master Menix. But the more he studied the leoine features, the less imposing they seemed. They looked almost sad.

Obi-Wan's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet upon the gravel path. As the person drew near, Obi-Wan could see that it was master Yoda. He choked back his fear and tried even harder to blend into the shadows.

"Thought I would find you here, I did." Yoda declared walking up to the man.

"Master."

"Hiding from me, are you?" Master Yoda asked.

"From you? Never. My transport arrived an hour ago. I thought I'd visit the gardens, meditate before I came to visit."

"Hemf! Hiding you are, Qui-Gon Jinn. See through you I can. Sulking you are. Seven years it has been. Time to move on it is. Take a padawan you should."

That was Qui-Gon Jinn? The maverick Jedi his Master often spoke disapprovingly of? The man looked nothing like what he pictured he would be. He expected the imposing harshness--expected that from all Jedi--but the sadness he saw was unexpected.

"We've been through this before, my Master. When will the briefing for my next mission be held? My summons contained no date or time."

There was a short pause before Yoda answered. "No new mission you have."

"What? Then why was I called back?"

"Unbalanced you are." Obi-Wan heard Master Yoda say. "Stay here until balance you find. New assignment you have."

"Teaching?" Anger was apparent in Qui-Gon's voice.

Qui-Gon was going to be an instructor this term? It had been a long while since he had taken classes here at the temple and Obi didn't know any of the other instructors. One of the reasons why he and his master returned to the temple was so Obi-Wan could take several of the mandatory classes initiates and Padawans had to take. Master Menix had said it was a waste of his valuable time to return. Would Qui-Gon be instructing any of the classes he was taking? He was sure Master Menix wouldn't like it if he were.

"Kata and saber techniques to advanced and intermediate initiates you will teach. Teach philosophy and art you will. When balance you find, return to field missions you may."

Obi-Wan had registered for classes, but hadn't yet received a list of what he was to take or who the instructors were. He wouldn't receive that until a few days from now--the day before classes started.

"Time it is to move on. Stand still, in the shadows no longer you will. Loose you to the Dark I will not."

Obi-Wan held his breath as Master Yoda shuffled past, on his way out of the garden.

For a long moment Qui-Gon stood there, looking at the night sky, watching the lights of sky traffic. He was silent, pensive. Finally, he spoke. "Are you going to hide under that bush all night?"

Obi-Wan went still and quit breathing for a moment. "Come out."

Obi-Wan crawled out, he felt sick with embarrassment. Not only was he out past curfew, he had been caught eavesdropping. His master wasn't going to be happy with him. As taught, he kneeled on one knee and bowed his head in submission before the ranking Jedi.

"Your mental shielding needs some work, Padawan." Qui-said. The boy felt the Master's sharp gaze pierce him. "Shouldn't you be in your quarters? It is past curfew."

"Um, yes sir." Obi-Wan felt himself shrivel under the master's scrutiny. His eyes were hard but not unkind. Despite the lack of cruelty in those eyes, Obi-Wan felt a reflexive jab of fear.

"And your Master is?"

"Master Menix, sir." His heart was loud in his ears. Was Master Qui-Gon going to tell his master that he had been eavesdropping, or was he going to punish him himself?

"Your name?"

"Obi-Wan, sir."

"You needn't be so formal, Obi-Wan."

He stood and folded his arms into his cloak, his head still bowed in submission.

The man sighed. "Close enough. Come."

Qui-Gon placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and gently pulled him towards the garden's doors.

"Yes sir."

Obediently, Obi-Wan followed without question.

The Jedi regarded the youth kneeling before him. Thin, the boy's clothes hung loosely on his frame. Reddish-brown hair was cropped short. A braid hung from behind his right ear. Though he looked to be twelve, his braid hung well past his shoulders. Judging from its length, the boy had been an apprentice for several years now. For one to be selected so young spoke of talent.

"You needn't be so formal, Obi-Wan."

Instead of relaxing as he expected, Obi-Wan folded his arms into his sleeves and bowed his head. Qui-Gon sighed. Though not as formal as on his knees, the stance was still ceremonious. "Close enough. Come."

Qui-Gon placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and steered him towards the garden's exit. Startled, the boy flinched.

"Yes sir."

Qui-Gon hesitated. Something troubled the boy and he felt the urge to ask him what it was. But it wasn't any of his business. Whatever the problem was, the boy's master would handle it.

But what problem would have a Padawan acting in such a manner?

Master Aurin Menix. Qui-Gon didn't care for the man much. The man was too rigid, too hard, and unable to admit the slightest possibility that he could ever be wrong. The man followed the code to the letter, making no exceptions and trying to live his life as the embodiment of emotionless control. The few times they were paired together for missions, they were often at odds with each other and argued constantly. Undoubtedly, that rigidness was affecting the Padawan, from what he could tell of the boy's submissive behavior.

It felt odd to have a Padawan follow him after all of these years. He led the boy towards the north tower, to Menix's quarters. Obi-Wan followed precisely three paces behind and to the right--the wrong position for a right-handed master Qui-Gon noted.

As they approached the quarters, the anxiety from the boy increased. The lad was probably in trouble for something and was reluctant to face his master. Knowing Menix, the boy had good reason not to want to face the man. Even so, the amount of anxiety from Obi-Wan seemed to be at unreasonable levels. In his opinion, no apprentice should fear his or her master for any reason. But how Menix chose to raise his Padawan was none of his business.

After a short hike through the temple, they arrived at the door to Menix's quarters. He pressed the doorbell. After a moment it opened to reveal an irritated-looking Menix.

"I believe that I have something of yours," he said stepping aside revealing the man's apprentice. Qui-Gon kept his tone of voice neutral. Instinctively, he left out parts of the story, but clung to the truth. "We were meditating in the fountain garden."

"Thank-you for bringing him home, Master Jinn." Menix's voice was cool, but emotionless. He directed his next words to the boy. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

Qui-Gon felt the boy tense. "No trouble at all."

Menix bowed his head formally at the compliment. "Once again, I thank-you." He then stepped aside, drawing the lad inside the apartment. "Good night, Master Jinn."

The shutting door cut-off any response Qui-Gon could have made. He stared at the door for a moment before he left. Unsure why he felt so troubled.

"Three days, Padawan. We've been here for only three days and you are already making trouble," Menix said. His voice was quiet, yet harsh enough to etch steel. Kneeling in submission, Obi-Wan looked down at the floor. "You disobeyed my instructions this morning."

"Yes sir."

"Tell me Padawan, why did you disobey me?"

"I forgot." The boy's voice didn't shake, but he knew that his control would break soon. "I met with the healers for the checkup and with Master LaCorting like I was suppose to. I forgot to leave enough tome to do the chores after I left the locker room."

Obi-Wan's master had a council meeting that morning, so he'd left a list of things to do. First he was to go to the gym for morning exercises. Then he was to return to their quarters to do a small list of chores. After, Obi-Wan was to meet with the healers and with Master LaCorting. But he ran into a friend he hadn't seen for five years. They talked for a bit and Obi-Wan forgot about the time, and the chores. Before he had known it, it was time for the appointment with the healers.

"You forgot? Don't lie to me, Padawan. You forgot, or you didn't want to do those chores?"

"I-I forgot." Obi-Wan's voice broke as his control slipped. "I was talking to friends and forgot about the time and--"

"Enough excuses!" The master's voice became louder. "A Jedi does not make excuses!"

Menix grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him to his feet and shook him. Obi-Wan felt something in his arm tear. Somehow, he managed not to cry out as pain flashed through him. "I will not tolerate disobedience from my Padawan!"

Obi-Wan did his best to still his fear, but Menix detected it and honed in on it.

"Tell me Padawan, what does fear lead to?"

"The Darkside."

"Disobedience leads to chaos. Tell me Padawan, where dose chaos lead to?"

"The Darkside." His arm hurt in a way that made him want to throw up. He tried to use the Force to shut out the pain, but it was beyond his grasp. All he could do was hope that his master wouldn't notice the failure.

"Recite passage twenty-two, section eight of the code."

"Obedience a Padawan owes to their master. Padawan, obey thy master. Respect thy master. Submit to thy master. Adhere to disciplines thy master lays before thee." Obi-Wan had always hated these next words. "Perform all tasks set before thee, for thy life belongs to thy master. Let thyself be taught, corrected and if need be, punished."

The master sighed as if the burden of the universe had been placed upon his shoulders. "Take your tunics off."

Immediately, Obi-Wan obeyed. His arm hurt so it was hard to shrug out of his shirt. It was awkward and slow and the master mistook it for defiance. He cuffed the boy alongside his head so hard that Obi-Wan saw a flash of light explode behind his eyes.

"Now Padawan!" Menix shouted. "When I give you a command, do not hesitate!"

Cursing his stupidity and slowness, Obi-Wan bit back the pain in his head and arm. He moved faster. When his chest was bare, Master Menix pulled out a chair from the kitchen. He didn't need to tell Obi-Wan what to do. The boy leaned across the seat on his stomach, exposing his back.

He couldn't see it, but Obi-Wan heard his master unfasten his utility belt. Menix took off the saber and a few pouches, but didn't bother to remove the metal fasteners.

The first blow struck the boy without warning.

"Why are you being punished?" The master asked.

"I disobeyed you, Master." Obi-Wan clenched his jaw shut as the belt landed on his back again. "I failed to complete the tasks assigned to me by my master."

He hit him again. "What else?"

"Instead of coming home to face my punishment, I let my fear rule me and I hid."

Once again, the belt came down on his back. It felt like a line of fire burning across his skin--but worse because he brought it upon himself. He deserved no less. He was lucky to get such a mild punishment. It could have been worse.

"We have been back at the temple for only three days and already you are causing trouble. What's the matter with you? What am I going to do with you?" More hits punctuated his words.

"I am beginning to regret my decision to take you as my Padawan. What did I see in you? I do my best with you to teach, but I can do only so much. You must do your part and learn." Menix's words hurt more than the strap.

"The results to your placement exams came today. I am not pleased. You are two years behind your age-mates. Two years! Do you even bother to read the assignments I give to you?"

The strap landed on Obi-Wan's back again. The first few times he had been punished with the belt he had cried. But not any more, not for a long time. It had been five years since he'd last indulged in that weakness.

At that point, Obi-Wan let his mind wander. Sometimes during punishments he would pretend that he was somewhere else. Or even better, that he was someone else. And then he would become separated from his body and not feel anything.

Obi-Wan don't know when the beating had stopped. It could have been a half-hour or a half-minute later. Without a word, Menix left the boy and went to his room.

The temple's exercise rooms were at their busiest in the mornings. Most knights liked to begin their day with a workout. It was almost a daily social event, where friends would gather and talk while they exercised or sparred. The masters would offer advice to the young. Often it was during the morning workouts where knights learned new advanced katas or saber techniques.

This was why Qui-Gon chose to workout in the evening. The gyms were almost abandoned, save for a few knights and their padawans. Initiates sometimes came to the gyms to play games, but not tonight; the new semester of classes started tomorrow. Books, new uniforms and supplies had to be secured.

A balcony encircled the top half of the gyms. Sometimes it was used as an observation deck, but usually it was used as a track. Runners circuited the track, one circuit being a kilometer. Every quarter klick, another track branched off the main, dividing it into four rectangles. Several rectangles were divided further into private rooms.

One of the rooms contained a master-padawan pair--Master Menix and Padawan Kenobi. During his cool-down walk, Qui-Gon stopped to observe the pair.

The boy was attempting the 'butterfly' kata, a kata every initiate learned. It was simple, designed for a ten or eleven year old. Yet the boy seemed to have trouble with it.

Obi-Wan one-handedly raised his lightsaber vertically above his head in the thirteenth position, then arched his arm down to his side while shifting the saber from a vertical to a horizontal position.

Qui-Gon winced as the boy's arm failed to remain straight, bending at the elbow. His wrist twisted, causing the blade to wobble. The boy's knees were too straight and his feet too close together, giving him poor balance.

"Freeze!" Menix yelled at he boy. Obi-Wan stopped exactly where he was. Menix circled him silently, inspecting the position. After one circuit, he stopped in front of the boy and pushed him on the chest. Obi-Wan fell, his 'saber falling from his grip. It deactivated before it hit the ground, to roll away.

"Had your stance been correct you would not have fallen. What's the matter with you? You've have had this kata down for years."

The boy responded, but Qui-Gon couldn't quite hear it. His voice was soft, a sharp contrast to Menix's.

"No excuses, Padawan! Do it again."

Obi-Wan performed the kata again, but on the second position Menix called for a halt. The boy's stance was once again off, his arm in the wrong position as well. Menix grabbed the arm and put it in the correct position. Obi-Wan flinched. The flinch earned the boy a slap to the face. "Never flinch from me! It shows a lack of control and respect. Resume the kata, half speed."

Obi-Wan continued with the kata, beginning where he left off. It was a better performance than previously. Qui-Gon watched as the boy made a few minor errors, errors Menix didn't comment on, and errors a Padawan his age should have never made. As the boy brought his saber above his head in the tenth position, the blade dipped too low from his wrist twisting once again. He failed to keep his arm straight as well.

A presence approaching him from behind interrupted his observations. He turned to greet the interloper. It was Mace Windu. He was carrying a folder and a sheaf of papers.

Ten years younger than Qui-Gon and bald, the councilor wasn't as imposing a presence as the knight. Only a few centimeters shorter than Qui-Gon, they had similar long muscled bodies. But Mace's face was more open and inviting, friendlier.

Qui-Gon resumed his cool-down walk. Mace was hard pressed to keep up. "Good evening, Qui-Gon."

"Councilor," Qui-Gon said, neither slowing his pace nor making any attempts at friendliness.

"I have your schedule, course outlines and your role calls." Windu held out a data pad and the folder. Qui-Gon took it without looking at the councilor or slowing.

"You could have dropped those off at that office I was given," Dropping a hint that he wanted to be left alone, hoping the councilor would take it.

Windu ignore the hint, a little hurt from it. "I could have, but I wanted to say hello. It's been a awhile since we've had the opportunity to talk."

"I believe we spoke several days ago."

"I meant outside the council chambers, as friends. Like we use to."

Suddenly Qui-Gon stopped and turned to face Mace. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Well, here I am," he bit out, irritation clear. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm worried about you, Qui."

"Have no worries, Mace." Qui-Gon's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm here at the temple and will be here for a while, where you can keep a close eye on me. You should know that. After all, you were the one who signed the decree for my new assignment."

"We felt it was in your best interest to--"

Qui-Gon turned and resumed his walk towards the stairs in a silent dismissal. Mace followed. After a brief hesitation, he continued what he was saying. "--take you off field duty for a while. Think of it as a vacation."

"I don't want to hear it."

They descended the stairs in silence. At the bottom, Mace blocked Qui-Gon's way. "Damn it Jinn! It's time to quit wallowing in your self-pity. Xani made his own choice. He chose to turn to the Dark, there was nothing you could have done."

"Tell that to the families of the ten-thousand people who lost their lives on Bandomeer." Qui-Gon stepped past Mace and strode into the locker room. This time, the councilor didn't follow.

Obi-Wan remembered liking saber practice as an initiate, but not any more. Not in a long time, since he was in the crFche. Today was especially bad. His back ached from the bruises his master's belt left the other night. His cheek still stung from the slap Master had given him a few minutes ago. But worst of all his hurts was his shoulder. He had healed it that night, but now it didn't work right. When practice first started, it didn't hurt at all. Now it was throbbing, and his fingers felt a little numb. It was hard to raise it over his head all the way like the kata demanded.

He wasn't allowed to heal the bruises and cuts on his back. Every twinge of pain was to remind him of his disobedience. The pain also served a secondary function. It was to help him deal with pain in the event he was injured on a mission. But Master didn't know about his arm, so he was free to heal it. Obviously, he had healed it wrong.

His frustration had long since turned into anger. One of Obi-Wan's greatest difficulties was dealing with his anger. He angered easily, but painful lessons from his master had long since taught him how to hide it. He was no longer impulsive and rash about his anger. Instead, he shielded it so his master couldn't find it.

While his ability to hide his anger kept him from being punished, the emotion caused him to lose his grip on the Force. At times like saber practice, once he got angry he wouldn't be able call upon the Force and was coerced into relying on his natural physical abilities. Often he got away with it, but not today, not when he hurt so badly he could not force his body to obey.

"Move into the fifth form."

Obi-Wan did as instructed.

"Correct that stance!"

Couldn't his master see by now that he couldn't do it? Why didn't Master Menix notice the way he couldn't lift his arm? Weren't masters supposed to notice these things? He thought a master was supposed to be able to sense pain through a training bond. Maybe Master Menix sensed it, but didn't care.

He didn't dare tell his master about his arm. At first he was afraid to tell him because he was already in trouble and didn't want to risk his master's ire. He thought he could heal it later that night, and it would be fine. Now, he couldn't tell his master because the punishment for concealing something would be severe. He knew he'd be caught eventually, but wanted to delay that moment as long as possible.

"I've seen enough of your performance today, boy. Go take your shower and return to our quarters." After evening practice, Master Menix usually stayed for a while, to practice his own katas. Usually, he allowed Obi-Wan to watch, but not tonight. "Now get out of my sight. Be in bed before I get back."

Obi-Wan bowed. He wanted to yell, scream and curse at his master, but instead he forced his voice to be polite. "Yes Master."

Obi-Wan padded towards the locker room, ashamed of his performance. It didn't matter that he had done poorly because his arm and back hurt. Those where injuries he had inadvertently inflicted upon himself. He had no excuse, not that an excuse would matter. One thing his master taught him was that there were to be no excuses for a poor performance--either he did well or he did not.

"Crying is not for Jedi," Obi-Wan whispered to himself, feeling tears start to form. He repeated those five words like a litany, softly whispering them, hoping the words would help. Crying would be one more failure he didn't need right now. "There is no emotion. There is no emotion. There is no--"

So focused was Obi-Wan that he didn't see the councilor until he ran into the man. Suddenly, crying became his least worry as almost overwhelming fear crept into his mind. If his master found out about his carelessness...

"I'm sorry sir." Obi-Wan looked up into Mace Windu's face. Instead of the anger or irritation he expected, he found a distracted kindness. He bowed low in respect. "I apologize for my carelessness, Master."

"Not a problem," Mace answered, distracted. The man was lost in thought, his words seemed to be spoken out of habit. "Just watch where you are going, Padawan."

Obi-Wan didn't want to press his luck with the distracted councilor. He rushed towards the doors behind the master and into the safety of the locker room.

Once inside, Obi-Wan leaned against the wall for a moment. Would the councilor tell Master Menix about his carelessness? He hadn't spent much time here at the temple, so it was very likely that the councilor wouldn't even know who he was. Obi-Wan let out a shaky sigh of relief at the thought.

Loosening the belt of his tunic as he walked, Obi-Wan made his way towards the showers. He let the leather belt fall to the floor, along with his sash and stola. His tunics went next. Sitting on the bench in front of his locker reached down to remove a boot. His hand stopped above his foot.

"what's wrong with me?" Obi-Wan asked himself, almost whispering. He stared down at the boot for a long moment. The brown leather blurred and he blinked his eyes to clear them. When they opened, he saw two dark spots on the leather. A drop of liquid splashed upon the leather, making another dark spot. Another drop fell, this time landing on his hand. It took him a second to recognize the tears for what they were: failure. He had failed to control his emotions.

Something inside broke, and he released his anger the only way that he knew how. Without realizing how he got there, he found himself screaming and kicking and hitting at the metal lockers. By the time he realized what he was doing he no longer cared. He was a failure after all, so why did it matter if he got angry? He'd never be a knight anyhow.

He hated his master. He hated training. He hated the Force. He hated the Jedi. He hated life. And most of all, he hated himself.

He was crying, his face wet. Obi-Wan noticed that his tears tasted coppery, like blood. Were they supposed to taste like that? Dimly he felt arms grab him, so he fought free of their grasp. That was when he realized that the wall next to the lockers was made out of cement. He pulled free from the hands trying to hold him one last time and cracked his head against the wall.

He felt himself fall. Idly, wondered if he was going to die, and if his master would care if he did.

Qui-Gon had just fastened his boots when he heard the screaming and the bang of something solid hitting a locker. The screaming didn't stop and the banging continued. Fastening his belt as he hurried to the other end of the locker room, to investigate. What he saw made his heart stop.

A boy, the same boy he'd met in the garden, was kicking and punching at a locker. As he watched, the boy banged his head against the locker once, and then again. Before he could get there, the boy had hit his head a third time. By the time he reached Obi-Wan, blood was poring down his face, mingling with tears.

Qui-Gon grabbed him by the shoulder. Bare, and damp with sweat and blood, the boy easily slipped from his grasp. Quick reflexes allowed him to grab the boy by the waist and an arm. Obi-Wan struggled and found enough movement to hit his head a fourth time, against the cement wall. The struggles ceased as the boy went limp.

Half conscious and still crying when Qui-Gon picked Obi-Wan up. Qui-Gon's arms seemed to swallow him. "Obi-Wan. Can you hear me? Can you look at me?"

"I hate him. Hate him," Obi-Wan sobbed, voice slightly slurred. The boy didn't look at him. He tried to look at the boy's eyes, to see the pupils. Finally, he managed catch a glimpse. One was large, the other constricted into a small black dot. He had a serious concussion.

"Who do you hate?" Qui-Gon asked as he carried the boy out through the locker room. He was no healer, but knew it was best to keep the boy awake. The best way to do that was to keep him talking. "Tell me who you hate, Obi-Wan."

"Master." Tears continued to stream down Obi-Wan's face. "Hate my Master."

They had reached the doors to the locker room, and Qui-Gon rushed down the hall. He moved as fast as he could without jarring the boy's injury. The temple's healing wing was located near the gym and the crFche for logical reasons. But it would still take a few minutes to get there. Five minutes at least. "Why do you hate your master?"

"Hate the Force." Either Obi-Wan didn't hear the question, or he ignored it. "Hate being Jedi. Hate being me. Master hates me."

They reached the end of the hall at the turbolifts. With the Force, he pushed a button. Now they had to wait for the lift to arrive and for the doors to open. "Tell me why you hate being you."

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but for the first time, Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes. For a moment the boy looked at him, confused, as if he just realized Qui-Gon wasthere. Qui-Gon asked another question. "Why do you think your master hates you?"

"Can't do anything right."

The doors opened and he stepped into the 'lift. The 'lifts were fast, but it would still take several minutes to reach the infirmary. The boy's eyes drifted shut.

"Obi-Wan, stay awake." His eyes fluttered open. "You have to stay awake. Can you do that for me?"

No answer, but Qui-Gon sensed that the boy heard him. He had to keep him awake, keep him talking "Tell me how old you are."

"Hmm?"

"How old are you Obi-Wan?"

"T-twelve. B-be thirteen 'n few months." His speech was becoming increasingly slurred. Silently, Qui-Gon urged the lifts to move faster. His tunic was soaked in blood from the boy's cut. The wound was beginning to swell, turning an angry purple color. "You takin' me home?"

"No. We're going to the healers."

"No. Hafta go home." Weakly, Obi-Wan began struggling. "Get in trouble. Gotta go home. Maser'll be mad if hafata go t'healers. Get 'n trouble."

"It's alright. You're not in trouble."

"No. Hafta go home. Please." His voice squeaked and trembled. He was close to panic now.

"I promise, you are not in trouble." Qui-Gon sent a wave of reassurance through the Force to the boy. He calmed a bit.

"Promise not t' tell master I hurt myself?

"I promise," Qui-Gon said. The boy lapsed back into silence, his eyelids drooping again. "Obi-Wan, stay awake."

No response.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon nearly shouted.

Reluctantly, the boy's eyes opened. "Uhhh?"

"Stay awake."

"Tired."

"I know you're tired but you have to stay awake. Qui-Gon muttered a silent thanks under his breath as he felt the 'lift decelerate. They were almost there.

"Home yet?" Obi-Wan asked as the 'lift's doors opened.

Remembering the boy's earlier panic, Qui-Gon lied. "Almost there." He carried his small bundle through the lift's doors and into the hall. The healer's emergency ward wasn't far now. Through a set of double doors and he was in the lobby. A healer noticed them immediately.

A healer motioned for Qui-Gon to follow her. She led him into an emergency room, while shouting orders to assistants and other healers. Seconds latter, the room was alive with scurrying healers. "What happened?"

"Head injury," Qui-Gon said as he laid the boy on the examination table. Suddenly Obi-Wan realized where he was and started to panic, mumbling incoherently, and fighting the healers. The struggles were weak--weak not form lack of emotion but from lack of strength. An assistant easily held him down.

"Has he lost consciousness?" The healer asked as she set up an I.V. Another attached monitors and wires to the boy's chest and forehead. Yet another examined the cuts on his forehead.

"No."

"Any disorientation or confusion?"

"Yes."

"Seizures?"

"No--"

As if brought about by words alone, the boy's body began to convulse. Violently, his back arched up off the table before slamming back down, again and again. His legs and arms struck out before they were restrained.

With a command through the force, the convulsions soon ended. But by then, Qui-Gon was no longer in the room. He'd been escorted back to the lobby. There he waited, worrying about a boy he didn't know.

Qui-Gon didn't know how long he had been there, waiting in the lobby. A healer-apprentice spoke with him earlier, asking him questions--what was the boy's name, who was his master, where were their quarters located. And of course, what happened.

Telling the healer that he had seen a boy beat himself into near-unconsciousness was one of the hardest things he had done in his life.

Where is the boy's master? Qui-Gon thought angrily. Why wasn't he here, pacing the waiting room, waiting for word of his apprentice? He had been contacted, hadn't he? Surely he had felt that his padawan had been injured through their training bond.

And what of the boy? Why would a child do such a thing? How could a Master allow a child to injure himself? If the boy was unbalanced, a master should have sensed it through the bond, and then taken measures to prevent this sort of thing.

Qui-Gon felt his anger rise. What kind of master was Menix? Qui-Gon remembered the slap he administered the boy. And the fear Obi-Wan showed as he escorted the lad to his quarters. And then there was the fear today, as the boy begged Qui-Gon to take him home.

Was Obi-Wan being abused? The thought seemed ridiculous. Menix was a Jedi, and Jedi didn't do that--it was of the Darkside.

A familiar presence broke Qui-Gon's thoughts. His old master approached. He paused to silently regard Qui-Gon before disappearing through the emergency room doors. If Yoda was surprised to see Qui-Gon, it didn't show.

The appearance of a council member wasn't a good sign. Was the boy dying?

A minute passed, and then five more. Qui-Gon was about to charge into the emergency room himself when his master re-appeared.

"Live the boy will," Yoda said as he shuffled to Qui-Gon's side. "Much damage there was, but heal he will."

The sense of relief nearly overwhelmed Qui-Gon. He didn't have time to ponder why he should feel such relief over a virtual stranger, for Yoda asked a question. "There when it happened were you? What happened, can you tell me?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon ran a weary hand over is face, he scrubbed at his eyes with a knuckle. He was silent for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. "I had just finished dressing in the locker rooms when I heard screaming, and then banging. I found the boy hitting his head against the lockers. I didn't restrain him quickly enough, and he hit his had against the wall."

Yoda's ears drooped sadly. "What felt you through the Force? The boy's emotions, what were they?"

"Frustration. Anger. Grief. Guilt." And Qui-Gon paused for a moment because the last emotion had been so clear. "Despair. Yoda looked at him for a long moment and sighed. "Aware of the injuries, the boy's master was not. Felt it through the bond he did not," Yoda said. "Healers tell me of previous injuries the boy has had. Many bruises. Many scars on his back. Dislocated left shoulder, several poorly healed fractures in left arm and wrist. Strained tendons and muscles in that arm, and damage to the joints."

Menix had the boy doing the butterfly kata with a dislocated shoulder? Scars? Poorly healed fractures?

Yoda felt Qui-Gon's anger and shot him a disapproving look but didn't reprimand him. "Examined the training bond I did. Not formed properly it was, dysfunctional. Incompatible they were. Cause mental imbalance in student and teacher it did. Break the bond I did."

Sometimes--a bond would be incompatible between two individuals. If this happened, it was quickly detected. The bond would be =dissolved before complications set in. In rare cases, if the bond was allowed to remain, neurological and psychological complications occurred.

"Why wasn't this incompatibility detected in the first place?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Obi-Wan left the temple with Menix too soon after chosen he was. Some concerns in the records I have found. But know this: No longer Obi-Wan's master is Menix." Yoda sighed. "Excuse Jedi Menix's actions strained bond does not. Held for questioning he is. Initiate Council meeting there will be."

"When?"

"Tomorrow, at the thirteenth hour. Be there you will. Substitute teacher will be found for afternoon class."

Damn! He'd forgotten about the classes he was to teach tomorrow. It was late and he hadn't had time to look through the course outlines yet. He wasn't ready.

"Master Jinn?" The healer called from the doors, interrupting Qui-Gon's thoughts. "I wanted to let you know that Obi-Wan will be fine. There was some hemorrhaging. It was a close call, but like I said, he'll be fine."

"What of the damage from the bond?"

"It will take time, but eventually things should return to normal. Neural-chemical imbalances take time to stabilize. Obi-Wan's serotonin level is lower than what it should be. In several weeks it should be close to a normal level again. Until then, he'll need to remain under observation."

"And the other injuries?" Qui-Gon's asked.

"We corrected damage caused by a badly-set break in his forearm and a dislocated shoulder. There is some damage to the rotator cuff and his carpal nerves and tendons, as well as the tendons in his shoulder. There's too much inflammation right now to tell if it's permanent or how it will effect his abilities with a 'saber."

Qui-Gon nodded and offered a faint smile of gratitude to the healer. "Thank-you." He turned to leave, but the healer stopped him.

"Obi-Wan asked for you."

Qui-Gon hesitated. He was concerned for the boy's well being, but he didn't want to become personally involved. He wanted to keep a distance. He was about to tell the healer as much when Yoda spoke.

"Sleep Obi-Wan needs now. Tomorrow you will visit. Busy morning Qui-Gon will have, but find time we will."

Qui-Gon shot an icy glance towards his master, but didn't protest. Instead, he gave a curt nod to Yoda and the healer before turning and leaving.

Five minutes later Qui-Gon was back inside the locker room. His gym bag lay on the bench where he had left it. The data pad and papers Mace gave him still lay next to the bag. He didn't want to pick them up. He didn't want to touch them or even so much as look at them.

But he picked them up and shoved them into his bag anyway. It was his duty to teach those classes. He didn't have to like it. He just had to do it.

Bag slung over a shoulder, Qui-Gon turned to leave. He strode past rows of lockers, but stopped when he came to the spot where he had found the boy.

The blood had been cleaned off the floor, locker, and wall. The only sign of what happened was a few dents in a locker door. Qui-Gon opened the locker to find the boy's clothes, folded neatly, waiting for their owner's return.

Qui-Gon slammed the locker shut. Turning on his heel, he wasted no time in leaving the locker room.

Qui-Gon peered through the door window at his philosophy class within. Depending on their level of skill, the Padawans and initiates were ten or eleven years old. They chatted with each other, making a dull roar audible from the hall.

Somehow, in the wee hours of the morning Qui-Gon had managed to cobble together a lesson plan for the day. It wasn't much of a plan, but it'd get him by this one morning.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Qui-Gon opened the door and stepped into the room. In an almost audible gasp of collective surprise, all chatting stopped in such a way it left little doubt that the children were talking about him. Waves of childish awe and apprehension met the Jedi master.

Walking to the front of the room, Qui-Gon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly, some kind of rumor had given the children reason to worry. He hid a shrug. If it made the children behave, why should he care?

He was a quarter of the way through the roll call when he spotted it: Obi-Wan's name. The boy was in this class. He pushed back his concern for the boy and continued with the roll call.

After roll call he handed out the textbook-cartridges. He then gave the class one simple instruction: Read chapter one. Soon twenty-five heads were bent over data-readers, leaving Qui-Gon time to properly plan for the next class.

Before long, the bell rang signaling the end of the class. The students scurried from their desks towards the door as if they couldn't wait to leave--all but one student. A small Calamari girl nervously approached Qui-Gon.

"It's Bant, isn't it?" Qui-Gon asked, not quite sure he remembered her name.

She nodded.

Qui-Gon waited for her to speak, but the girl just stood there, fidgeting. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I heard the masters talking in the cafeteria. They said that you took Obi-Wan to the healers." Bant said as she played with the hem of her tunic. "I, um, was wondering if he's alright?"

"He'll be fine. He'll have to stay at the healers today though."

Bant nodded, relieved. Still nervous, she sputtered another question. "Is he in much trouble?"

"In trouble for what?"

The girl seemed to loose her nerve. "Never mind. I just--"

"This may be important, Initiate Bant." Qui-Gon said, pulling rank. He then kneeled so he could look the child in the eyes. "What would Obi-Wan be in trouble for?"

"It wasn't his fault. Honest. I made him forget. It's my fault. H-he forgot to do some chores a couple days ago. He told me he was going to get into trouble. He was scared." Bant took a deep breath, embarrassed and on the verge of crying. "He told me that his master said that he was thinking about sending Obi-Wan to the agri-corp, and that his master didn't want him anymore. Obi-Wan also said that he wasn't very good at being a Padawn, and that if he messed up again, Master Menix might go find a better Padawan."

"He's not in trouble, and he's not going to the agri-corp."

Bant seemed relived. "He swore me not to tell. I promised him. Please don't tell him that I told you."

"Don't worry. I won't tell him." Another bell rang, just after the words left his mouth. "You should get to your next class. I'll see you tomorrow."

She bowed. "Yes Master." She then hurried out.

Qui-Gon sat outside the council chambers, waiting as requested by Yoda. They had questioned Qui-Gon about the events of last night, and he told them of what the Calamari girl had told him. They then excused him to question Menix.

Now, several hours after his questioning, he had been summoned back to the council chambers. He now waited as the councilors were finishing last minute meditations.

Qui-Gon had assumed if they had additional questions for him, that they would most likely contact him through his comlink. The Jedi hoped that the reason they had called him was because they had a mission for him, and that this teaching nonsense would be put behind him.

Finally, after a long wait, he was summoned into the chambers. The sun hung low in the western sky, shooting orangeish light into the chambers. The light gave yoda's green skin a muddy color.

Qui-Gon bowed, and then awaited instructions for his new mission. He didn't have to wait long.

"Come to a decision about the boy, we have," Yoda said.

Qui-Gon's back stiffened. Why would they summon him to the council chambers to inform him of a decision about the boy?

"Confined to the level of knight Menix is, and always will be. Padawan he no longer has. No Padawan will he ever have."

To be denied a padawan and mastership--and or to be demoted from the level of master--was a grave disgrace. It was a disgrace that would brand him for the rest of his life.

"A new extended mission he has, to planet Chaww," Yoda said. "Help agri-corps and colonists he will. Much time for meditation there will be. Stay out of trouble he will."

Qui-Gon nodded in response. Why were they telling him this? Mace Windu answered his unspoken question.

"The boy needs a master. We are asking you to take up his training."

"No." They could force him to teach here at to the temple, but they couldn't force him to take a padawan.

"The boy is a padawan, not an initiate--a highly talented padawan. A master must be found for him." Mace said. "There are not enough masters for every child. There are never enough."

Deepa spoke. "Right now you are the logical choice. You are not on active field duty, thus, will be here for an extended amount of time. You will be instructing the bulk of his classes. And, you are without a padawan, have been for some time now. We ask that you takeover the boy's training until a more permanent solution can be found. We are not asking you to permanently commit to the boy. Several months at the most."

"My answer is still no." Why couldn't the boy stay in the dorms like every other initiate his age?

"Asking we are," Yoda said. "Order you we may."

Stubbornly, Qui-Gon glared at the little Jedi.

Mace sighed. "Then so be it. Master Qui-Gon Jinn, by the authority granted to me by the Jedi council, I hereby command you to temporarily take up the training of Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is in addition to your new assignment."

"I protest this order and petition for an appeal." They couldn't do this to him!

"Protest noted and logged." Windu's voice held a dangerous edge. "Appeal denied."

Qui-Gon stormed out of the council chambers.

Once again, Yoda found Qui-Gon in the fountain gardens, in his favorite spot. He had attempted to meditate but failed. Giving up, he simply stared at the falling water. The sound of water failed to sooth him. It hadn't been able to sooth him in over seven years.

"Selfish you are," Yoda announced as he approached Qui-Gon. "Need a master Obi-Wan does. None available there are. Take the privilege of his training I would if I could."

Qui-Gon said nothing.

"Four initiates turned thirteen in last two months. Talented, strong in the light they were, but to agri-corps they went. Another leaves in two months. Jedi they can not be, no masters they have."

"Please, my master. I ask for reassignment. I can not train the boy."

"Can not," Yoda asked as he poked Qui-Gon with his cane. "Or will not?"

"Both." Qui-Gon sighed rubbing his now sore arm. "The boy deserves a good master."

"And good master he shall have. Now go. Visit your new student. Late it has become and visit Obi-Wan you have not yet. Expect you the healers do." Yoda turned and walked towards the temple. Yoda chuckled. "A good master Obi-Wan will have."

His head hurt, and he didn't remember what happened. He was tired and a little dizzy too. The healers said that he had hit his head, but that was all they would say.

Where was his master? They wouldn't tell him that either. He tried to search for him through the bond, but didn't get very far. He was never any good at finding his master through the bond, but at least he could always feel his master's presence. Now he couldn't.

Did his master finally decide to get rid of him? Oddly, the thought didn't have the emotional impact he once thought it would. So he wouldn't be a Jedi. Big deal. It was only his life-long dream, a wish. Things he wanted never came to be. He had learned to deal with disappointment long ago.

Obi-Wan absently fingered the bacta-bandage over his left eye as he thought of his future. What would he do? Where would he go? As soon as he was healed, would he be shipped off to the agri-corps with all of the other Temple rejects? He wasn't thirteen years old yet. It could still happen. His master had always said that if he didn't work harder that was what would happen to him.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear his visitor enter the room until he knocked on the doorframe. Obi-Wan turned to see the Jedi master he had met in the fountain garden. What was Qui-Gon Jinn doing here? Vaguely, he remembered seeing the Jedi somewhere other than in the Fountain garden, and knew that was why he was visiting him. But he couldn't think of where. The absent memory nagged at him.

"How do you feel, Obi-Wan?"

"My head hurts a little."

The Jedi smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, but sad. "I imagine that it does."

The two stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a while. After a few moments, Qui-Gon spoke. "I brought you something."

The boy smiled, surprised, as Qui-Gon handed him a data-reader. Obi-Wan's enthusiasm died when he realized what the contents of the reader was. "A philosophy textbook?"

"Um, yes. I thought that you might wish to keep up your studies for when you return to class. Chapter one was today's assignment."

"Oh."

The two stared at each other for another long moment before Qui-Gon spoke. As his new charge, it was Qui-Gon's duty to tell the boy. "Menix, your Master, has been reassigned. You will no longer be his apprentice. Until a permanent master can be found, I will be taking over your training."

Of all the things Obi-Wan expected, this wasn't it. He expected to be expelled or punished, but not to be reassigned to a new master. His master had finally gotten rid of him. He had a second chance at his training. But what if he messed it up this time too?

Obi-Wan looked up at the man and cringed. How he knew this he didn't know, but he knew with certainty: Qui-Gon didn't want him. Who could blame him? So if Qui-Gon didn't want him, and if no other master wanted him, what would happen to him? What would happen when he turned thirteen?

Obi-Wan had a million questions to ask, but kept silent. He didn't want Qui-Gon to like him less than he already did.

"The healers are releasing you tomorrow afternoon. We'll move your things from your old quarters to mine then."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"You will be attending counseling sessions in the mornings. Tomorrow, everything will be explained." Qui-Gon looked down at him, apparently waiting. Obi-Wan kept silent. "Do you have any questions for now?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. A million questions begged to be asked, but he silenced them all.

Qui-Gon smiled again. This time, it faintly touched his eyes. But it was still a sad smile. "Try to get some sleep. It'll be a long day tomorrow." He turned to leave but paused as he reached the door. "Goodnight Obi-Wan, sleep well."

With that, Qui-Gon turned and left the room, shutting off the light as he went.

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door for a while. Tears welled in his eyes and he didn't bother stopping them. Why should he bother? He had already made enough mistakes. What was one more?

Sleep didn't come easily that night.

Qui-Gon threw his cloak on the back of a chair as he entered his quarters. He had finally spoken to Obi-Wan and told him that the boy was to be his temporary student. He frowned at the thought.

The council unloaded--forced--the kid onto him. Why couldn't they deal with him? Windu was without a Padawan, as was Yoda and Depa. Between the three of them a solution could have been found.

But no. The council had been badgering him to take another apprentice for years. And now they had found a way to order him to do it. They could force him to take in the boy temporarily, but not permanently. Not only did it go against the code, a training bond couldn't form if either the master or student was unwilling.

Qui-Gon sighed, then glared at the door to the second bedroom. The boy would need the room. Where else would he sleep and study?

The door to the bedroom--Xanatos's old bedroom--hadn't been opened for seven years. Sealed tight, Qui-Gon had not even once opened the doors in all those years. The room was as Xanatos had left it.

He should have cleared out the room years ago, but couldn't find the strength to face the ghosts the room contained. Now the task was forced upon him. Qui-Gon found that opening the door was more difficult than he thought it would be.

His hand hovered above entry keypad, his finger extended and ready to open the door. But at the last second he let his hand drop to his side. He couldn't do it. The room was to remain sealed. The boy could sleep on the couch.

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes. They felt raw and scratchy from a combination of crying and a lack of sleep. He tried to concentrate on the textbook Qui-Gon had given him, but his mind kept replaying the conversation he had with the councilor.

The Ithorian Jedi explained to him why Menix was no longer his Master, but it was hard for him to believe. His master didn't treat him right? Abuse?

Obi-Wan tried to explain to the councilor that his master only punished him when he deserved it, and the bond had felt fine to him. If given a choice, Obi-Wan would go back to his master. He wanted things to be as they were. Because of him, Master Menix was in trouble-- for no good reason.

He turned his attention back to the data-reader and only read a paragraph before his mind started to wander again. What would Master Qui-Gon be like? The man seemed sad, and he knew that he didn't want him as an apprentice. At least Master Menix had wanted him.

He still didn't know how he hit his head the other night. He sensed that this whole mess had started because of what happened that night. Further more, Qui-Gon was involved some how.

He had asked the councilor what had happened, and all she would say was that memory loss was common in head injuries. The memory may or may not return in time. She also continued to say that they would talk about what happened at a later date. The conversation left Obi-Wan with the feeling that the information was being held from him.

The feeling of a faint presence interrupted the boy's thoughts. It felt vaguely familiar. But who was it? It wasn't his master, but Menix was the only person he could identify through the Force. He was no longer able recognize his friends from the crèche, or his former instructors.

To Obi-Wan, most people had a generic Force-presence that was indistinguishable from one another. When he got to know a person, their Force presence was learned and he was able to identify that one presence among many--but usually only at close proximity.

His book forgotten, Obi-Wan concentrated on the presence. It was too weak to track, but had an air of hesitation about it. Who ever this person was, he or she was dreading something.

Qui-Gon signed the healer-release forms for Obi-Wan. An Ithorian mind-healer--the boy's councilor--lectured him on the boy's care as he walked towards Obi-Wan's room.

"Watch for mood swings, irritability, restlessness, lack of appetite and sleep. It may take several weeks to several months for his neural chemical imbalances to completely correct themselves. Until then the medication should help."

Qui-Gon nodded. His hand tightened around the bottle of pills the healers had given him.

"At any hint of self-destructive behavior, contact me. The bond with his previous master has been severed, but the damage is still there. His emotional development has been suppressed severely, his responses will resemble a much younger child at times." They had reached the door to Obi-Wan's room, but did not enter. "He's not going to trust you. You're going to work hard to earn his trust. He'll expect you to physically punish him, and will be confused and suspicious when you do not."

Again Qui-Gon nodded and said nothing. Why did the council entrust Obi-Wan to him? His anger flared to life. Anger not only at the council for forcing the boy upon him, but at Menix.

"Today in our session I told him why his master was reassigned. He blames himself for Menix's actions. He knows he was abused, but believes it was a part of his training," the councilor said. "His ideas of the master-padawan relationship are very distorted. To an extent, his view of the Jedi Order in general has been dimmed as well."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I'll do my best to convince him otherwise."

"I know you will." The councilor smiled. "If you have any questions, ask. I'll see Obi-Wan tomorrow."

The Ithorian turned and walked away, leaving Qui-Gon alone to meet the boy. He took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to get this task done and over with.

Siting on the bed, a data-reader in hand, he found the boy waiting for him. Pale, thin, and small, he looked younger than his twelve years. The boy's eyes refused to meet those of the master. A mixture of trepidation, shyness and deference--something Qui-Gon would have to correct.

For a long moment he studied the boy. "Come, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned and walked out of the room without waiting to see if the boy followed. He didn't have to. Instinctually, he knew Obi-Wan would submissively follow each and every order without question. It was another flaw in the boy's training that had to be corrected.

Qui-Gon navigated through the halls with his usual distance-eating gait. Obi-Wan had to almost run to keep up, but he was able to stay precisely three steps behind and to the right. Qui-Gon felt the exhaustion and trembling muscles with a pang for his inattention to Obi-Wan's physical condition. He stopped suddenly, and noticed with a hidden smile that Obi-Wan avoided colliding into him at the sudden halt.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes Master Jinn?"

"Is Menix left-handed?"

Obi-Wan's brows ferrowed at the odd question. "Yes Master Jinn."

"Which side is my lightsaber hanging from? The left or right?"

Obi-Wan's eyes glanced at the man's belt before returning his to his feet. "On your right side, sir."

Qui-Gon winced at the word 'sir.' He hated being called that. "It hangs from my right side because I am right-handed. When I draw my weapon, it will be from the right."

Qui-Gon paused, waiting for the boy to answer him, to make a comment or ask a question. After a moment of silence, it was obvious the boy wasn't going to say anything. "The proper place for a padawan to walk behind a right-handed master to the left. If both of us needed to draw our weapons and you are behind and to my right, there is a risk of injury."

Obi-Wan flushed, mortified. "I'm sorry sir."

Qui-Gon smiled at the boy, trying to reassure him. But Obi-Wan was looking at the floor, and didn't see it. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. Now you know." Qui-Gon wondered how many other gaps were in the boy's knowledge. "And please don't call me sir."

Startled, the boy briefly flicked his gaze upward. "Sorry si--Master Jinn."

"'Master Jinn' sounds just as bad as 'sir.' 'Qui-Gon' will do."

"Yes Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon stifled the urge to roll his eyes. He hated formalities "No, just Qui-Gon."

"Yes...Qui-Gon."

"You are uncomfortable saying my name," Qui-Gon observed.

Obi-Wan's blush deepened to a darker shade of red. He continued to stare at the floor. "Yes si--Qui-Gon."

When the boy didn't explain, Qui-Gon asked, "Why?"

"You are a master. My master," Obi-Wan said in a voice so low that Qui-Gon could hardly hear it. "I'm only a padawan. I must acknowledge your rank and title."

"First, you are correct in that you should acknowledge my rank, but you needn't be so formal. Second, while I have temporally taken over your training, I am not your master. Therefor, there is no need for you to address me as 'Master.'"

"Yes Qui-Gon."

He continued walking more slowly, Obi-Wan falling in behind him. It didn't take long to reach Obi-Wan's old quarters. He punched in the lock-code he had been given and the doors slid open. The room beyond was bare and Spartan, only containing basic furnishings. He walked into the room, noticing the lack of nick-knacks, static-holographs, books, or any other things a person tended to collect through a lifetime.

"Collect your things, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said turning to his left, towards where the boy should have been standing. Instead, Obi-Wan stood at the entryway. His face was expressionless as he stared at the floor, yet Qui-Gon knew the boy was afraid.

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. He isn't here." The sound of his voice startled the boy from his thoughts.

"Your things. You need to get them," Qui-Gon repeated. "We don't have all day." He didn't add that Menix would be returning soon.

"Yes, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon watched as the boy quickly retreated into a room. No more than a minute latter, he returned with a small knapsack. "What about the rest of your things?"

Obi-Wan seemed confused. "This is it. My clothes, a data-pad and my toothbrush."

That was all the boy owned? When Xani was that age, he owned at least several boxes worth of junk--tools, models, books and whatever else boys that age collected. His throat constricted at the memory of his former apprentice. He fought the feeling back, to focus on the moment. "You have nothing else?"

The boy shook his head.

"Very well." Qui-Gon stepped to the door. "If there is nothing else, then we need to leave. You are not permitted to return to these quarters without my permission once we leave."

"Yes, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan answered has he followed the man out the door. The boy didn't look back.

Obi-Wan fought back a gasp of surprise when he entered Qui-Gon's apartment. Cluttered was the only word the boy had to describe it--but that word didn't quite fit.

Comfortable but worn looking furniture was arranged in the middle of the room. In front of the couch sat a coffee table, data disks, a used cup on a coaster, and several odds and ends lay on the surface. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which held nick-knacks, souvenirs and framed holos and of course books. Real books, with paper in side them rather than more economical datareaders. More framed holos decorated walls and sat on various surfaces. Plants hung near the windows. A ratty paper poster hung on one wall.

Master Menix would have disapproved, Obi-Wan thought. His master believed that material possessions weakened a Jedi's sense of service. Did Qui-Gon's collection of possessions mean that he wasn't as dedicated as Master Menix?

"Well, here we are." Qui-Gon said as he hung his cloak on a hook near the door. Several civilian-looking cloaks hung there as well, and Obi-Wan's doubts of the tall Jedi grew. "You'll sleep on the couch. Don't worry, it is quite comfortable."

"Yes Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon walked to the kitchen, grabbing the cup from the coffee table as he went. "Would you like some tea?"

Obi-Wan hated tea. Master Menix had always made him drink it. Afraid of causing more trouble than he already had, the boy lied. "Yes, please."

"You can come in, you don't have to stand in front of the door." The Jedi Master said as he filled a glass container with water. He put the container into a cooker. "Go ahead and set your things next to the couch. The three plasti-crates there are yours to put your things in, but it looks like you'll only need one for now. Later, we'll go down to stores and get you some more clothes."

Obi-Wan noticed that the layout of these quarters was exactly the same as his old one. The kitchen was in the same spot, as were the storage closets. Past an open door, the boy saw the master's bedroom, and the bathroom was in the same spot. A third door--the door to the padawan's room--was shut. Why didn't Qui-Gon just give him that room instead of making him sleep on the couch? The boy's thoughts were interrupted by a question.

"How does your arm feel?" Qui-Gon asked, bringing him a cup of tea.

"It hurts a little when I move it. My fingers feel a little tingly." Obi-Wan suspiciously sniffed the tea. It didn't smell too bad. He tasted it. The tea was sweet and slightly fruity, unlike the bitter acrid stuff Master Menix drank. He decided that he liked it. If it wasn't so hot, he would drink the whole cup then and there. Then he noticed Qui-Gon staring oddly at him, and became worried. What had he done wrong now?

Qui-Gon wondered why the boy did not immediately take a seat, and in the same instant realized he was waiting to be told what to do. It bothered the Jedi in a way he could not quite put words to. "Please sit down. The healers don't want you to spend too much time on your feet today."

Obi-Wan hurriedly sat down on the couch. "Until the Healers fix that arm, I'll have to modify your saber practice. It shouldn't be too difficult." Qui-Gon grabbed a data-pad from the coffee table. "We need to make out a schedule for you."

Qui-Gon studied the pad for a moment. He frowned. The boy was in his intermediate kata class. A padawan or initiate Obi-Wan's age should be in the advanced class. How was he going to teach his own classes and give the boy the attention he needed? He needed several hours a day to grade papers and plan lessons. "You are in three of my classes."

Obi-Wan saw the man frown. Was Qui-Gon disappointed because he was in three of his classes?

"Okay, Obi-Wan. First thing in the morning we have that intermediate level kata class. I teach the advanced level class afterwards, so we can re-schedule your appointments with the healer for that hour. Your political science course is after you healer's appointment. Then you are in my philosophy class. Lunch is next, your mathematics and science courses, and then you are in my art class." Qui-Gon studied the screen, thinking. "The next few hours are yours to do what ever you wish. Then last-meal. We'll have to take our meals in the commons. There won't be enough time to prepare them here."

Obi-Wan nodded, trying to digest all of the information. Free time to do whatever he wished? Menix had never allowed that. Classes. Meals in the commons? He hadn't eaten in the commons since he was an initiate. He remembered the food with nostalgia. Menix hated the commons.

"After last meal there will be time for private lessons and meditation. Early in the mornings, before our first class, there will be time for saber practice and perhaps meditations." He handed the data-pad to the boy. "Dose that sound good to you? Any changes you need to make?"

The master was asking him if the schedule was okay? Confused, not knowing what to say, Obi-Wan agreed.

As promised, early the next morning Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had time for a private practice session.

As always, the gym was busiest at that time of day. The locker room was crowded, full of knights, masters and their padawans. The initiates were absent, as they had their training sessions later in the mornings. But padawan and masters crowded the small space.

As Qui-Gon walked past the second row of lockers he looked at the place where he found the boy. A few small dents still covered the door. Obi-Wan hesitated, then moved towards his locker. Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Use my locker."

Obi-Wan nodded, relieved. He still had no memory of the incident, but the place sparked an unpleasant feeling.

With Obi-Wan following, Qui-Gon stopped in front of his locker. He was half undressed when he realized that Obi-Wan was still fully clothed, not undressing.

"Change into your work-out cloths, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan bowed his head, embarrassed. The relief he had felt earlier had faded into anxiety. "Yes mast--I mean Qui-Gon."

Shyly, and as quickly as possible, Obi-Wan took his boots off. His pants followed. He then pulled on the light-weight sweat-pants. He then pulled off his tunic and hurried to put on his sweatshirt. All the while with his back to the master.

"Stop," Qui-Gon said at the sight of the boy's bare back. Whitish lines crossed his skin. Qui-Gon touched one and the boy flinched. He turned the boy around to face him. More scars marked his chest.

Most of them were straight lines about the width of his little finger. They were lightsaber marks. Others were thinner lines. Knife marks? There were other scars, between the size of the knife and the saber marks was a type of scar he couldn't identify.

"Whip," Obi-Wan said in a quiet voice, answering his unspoken question. His eyes were fixed on the floor. "The scar, it's from a whip."

A whip? Why would a master whip his padawan?

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's question almost as clearly as if he had spoken it. "For training, so I'll know what it feels like if I make a mistake. To learn what pain feels like and how to suppress it. To learn how to heal, sometimes. I'm not very good at it," Obi-Wan said. "Master said that it'll make me stronger."

Guilt. Embarrassment. Shame. Fear. All of these emotions could be felt as clearly as if they were his own. They came through a bond he didn't know that he had.

When had he bonded with the boy? Qui-Gon pushed back his own emotions and tightened his shields. He couldn't bond with this boy! This wasn't his Padawan! In a few months a real master would be found for him, and he could go back to his life. They both could go back to their lives.

"Put your shirt on."

"Yes Master." Obi-Wan scrambled for his tunic, relived.

Qui-Gon didn't bother to correct the boy.

They went to the class area, a place that was empty at this time in the morning. It was separate from the general gyms, and held large two-way mirrors. The students could watch their own movements and masters could discreetly watch the students. An adjustable wooden bar ran the length along another wall.

Obi-Wan studied the room. He remembered this place from when he was an initiate. He remembered using the bar to stretch and learn to keep his balance while learning to kick.

Qui-Gon led him through stretching and a warm-up. All through the warm-up Obi-Wan dreaded the coming lesson. He hated to practice with his lightsaber. He could never do it right and always got burned.

Obi-Wan tried not to watch the master Jedi, but it was hard. Qui-Gon was a big man, towering over him intimidatingly. His muscles rippled as he moved through the complex and graceful routine.

Master Menix was strong, but this man was even stronger. Much stronger. If he ever made Qui-Gon mad at him, he was sure that the master could kill him in a heartbeat. He vowed to be extra careful.

"Okay, Obi-Wan. That is enough," Qui-Gon said as he finished his own warm-ups. "I'd like to see you perform the first kata. Keep that arm down."

Obi-Wan nodded, a little embarrassed. The first kata? That was a kata for eight-year olds! He wasn't very good at katas, but he wasn't that inept! Never the less, He moved to the first position without complaint. He waited for the command to start.

"I want to get an idea of your skill," Qui-Gon explained, sensing the indignation. "After the first, I will want to see the second, third, fourth and then fifth."

"My--I mean Master Menix--hasn't taught me the fifth."

Qui-Gon was a little surprised. The fifth kata wasn't taught until the initiate or padawan reached a certain level of skill. Most twelve year olds had learned the fifth kata. At almost thirteen, Obi-Wan was behind.

"Don't worry. When I get done with you you'll know the fifth," Qui-Gon said. "Begin."

Obi-Wan performed the kata as best as he could. He felt a little odd, as he did it one-handedly. All the while he waited for the Jedi to interrupt and correct him. He was surprised when it didn't happen. Not once did the Master burn him with his light saber to correct him.

Qui-Gon watched the boy. Technically, all of the moves were correct, but the boy lacked the grace that came from a deep connection with the Force.

"The second kata, Obi-Wan. Begin."

Once again, the boy performed the moves correctly but relied entirely upon physical skill rather than the Force. It was as if the boy had simply memorized the movements.

When they came to the fourth kata, Obi-Wan began to have trouble. The movements were more complex and required the Force to aid in balance, coordination, and timing.

Obi-Wan's cheeks flushed with shame as he stumbled. When was Qui-Gon going to stop him and correct him? He moved into the next form, realizing that his stance was slightly off. This threw off the next two moves.

As Obi-Wan stumbled to a halt, Qui-Gon could feel the shame and fear pour from the boy. his voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry. I always have trouble with the fourth."

"Tell me, Obi-Wan, what were you feeling when you performed the fourth?

The question took the boy by surprise. Was he suppose to feel something? What answer could he give that wouldn't make the master angry with him?

"Tell me what you were feeling," Qui-Gon repeated. "Your emotions, your feelings, what were they?"

Obi-Wan stared at the floor. "I don't know."

"I asked you a direct question, Padawan." Qui-Gon frowned, and repeated the question again. "What did you feel?"

What should he say? Telling the truth would lead to punishment, but a lie would lead to punishment too--but only if he was caught. He chose to take the risk. "I felt nothing."

"Do you know the penalty for lying to a master, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's heart felt like it had stopped. "Yes."

"Then tell me what you felt."

He had no choice. He was going to be punished no matter what he said anyway. He might as well be punished for lying rather than for his fear. "I felt nothing."

"You felt shame and embarrassment. You felt fear. You feel it now." Qui-Gon kneeled down in front of the boy. "It is these emotions which are keeping you from connecting to the Force. Only when the Force is flowing through you, will you be able to perform those katas as they were meant."

With a finger, Qui-Gon lifted the boy's chin so he could look him in the eyes. The boy flinched from his touch. "I do not tolerate lying. You will be punished for it. Do you understand why I must punish you for this?"

Obi-Wan held his breath as he nodded. Preparing himself as best he could.

"You will write me two essays. In the first essay, you will write about why a Padawan must be honest with their master. In the second essay, write about why you lied to me. You will write both essays by hand and on plast, and they must be at least a page long each. You will write these essays during your free time today. I want them finished by last meal. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The boy blinked, confused. Where was his punishment? Was he to be punished later?

"Good. Go take a break. The class starts in twenty minutes," Qui-Gon said. "Get a snack or something to drink, but don't be late."

Behind the two-way mirror Mace watched as the boy walked off. Qui-Gon stood silently as Obi-Wan made his hasty retreat.

A smile threatened to surface on Mace's face. The boy was good for Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon was good for the boy. Both teacher and student were strong in the Force and would make a good team. But both had a lot of healing to do first.

Once again, Yoda was right, it was a good match. Already he could sense the shaky beginnings of a bond. It promised to be a strong one.

He hoped Qui-Gon's bullheadedness wouldn't prevent the bond from forming.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon turned and glared at him. Even though he couldn't see him through he mirror, Qui-Gon knew that he was there. The two didn't speak, they just regarded each other for a long moment. Finally, Qui-Gon turned his back to Windu. Mace did smile then. But there was an edge of sorrow to it, he still missed his friend Qui-Gon.

As Obi-Wan approached the gym's snack area, he forced thoughts of the past hour out of his mind. His punishment would come soon enough. He had other things to think about.

Like if he should be embarrassed or excited. He was in a class with initiates two and three years younger than he. That was embarrassing. But Bant was two years younger than he, and would be in this class. So would Garen and Reft, and several others he remembered from the crèche. He hadn't seen them in four years.

Over the years, he had written to Bant. Though he hadn't seen her during those four years, the two knew each other well. He was eager to spend more time with her.

Obi-Wan stood near the snack bar's counter, drinking a container of juice. He watched the crowd, looking for the familiar faces of his friends. He did see several initiates and young padawans that he vaguely recognized.

Finally, the break came to an end, and it was time to go to class. He turned and took a step, only to run into somebody.

The force of the collision knocked both Obi-Wan and the other boy to the floor. Obi-Wan saw with horror that the remainder of his juice now covered the boy's tunic in a big purple stain. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Look what you did, you stupid oaf!" The boy shouted as he jumped to his feet.

Still on the floor, Obi-Wan stared up at the boy, trying to place a name. Several inches taller and more muscled than he, the boy had blond hair and light blue eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," Obi-Wan stammered as he climbed to his feet. "I-I didn't mean to."

"What are you, stupid or something?"

The barb hurt. Yes, he knew that he was stupid. Master Menix told him that often enough. Instead if answering, Obi-Wan grabbed a handful of napkins from the nearest table and handed them to the boy.

"Who the hell are you?" the boy growled as he grabbed the napkins. He started to sop up the juice.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan, eh?" The boy asked rhetorically. "I heard that you got your master shipped off to Chaww. Are they going to make you cut off your braid now that you don't have a master anymore?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. He didn't care about his braid. He didn't even know if he wanted to be a Jedi anymore.

"My name's Bruck by the way." The boy held out his hand.

Obi-Wan reached out to take it. Instead of shaking hands, Bruck grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist and jerked him to the floor. Obi-Wan landed hard on his butt. The pain in his arm was terrible.

"Sucker!" Bruck laughed as he threw the napkins at Obi-Wan and walked off.

Obi-Wan barely made it to class on time for role call. Anxiously, he looked around the room for his friend Bant. They spotted each other and she waved him over.

"Hi," Bant whispered as Obi-Wan sat down next to her on the mat.

Obi-Wan smiled at his friend, not daring to speak as Qui-Gon called out roll. Two other boys sat next to Bant. Obi-Wan recognized them as Garren and Reft. They also whispered a greeting.

The role call came to an end and Qui-Gon began the class with a question. "How many of you have heard of the 'Turning Seasons' kata?"

Obi-Wan had never heard of the kata, but most every one in the class raised their hands.

"It is a kata requiring the teamwork of four to work together as one. The four members of the team each represent a season: winter, fall, spring, and summer. Separate of your team members, the kata is simple. But when combined with your team members, it becomes more difficult. This is to be an exercise in teamwork and team-coordination."

"Each member of the team must be in harmony with one another, just as the seasons are in harmony." Qui-Gon took a spot in the middle of the room where all of his students could see him. As he demonstrated the kata, he spoke. "Everything balances. Just as your moves must balance with your teammates, so must the Force. Your teammate moves to the left, you move to the right; there is balance. The Force takes away what it gives; there is balance."

Obi-Wan watched in awe. Never before had he seen someone move with the skill and grace that Qui-Gon demonstrated. He could almost see the Force shimmer through the man in waves of calm serenity. It made him glow.

Earlier, he saw Qui-Gon simply as large and strong. He was afraid of him then. But now he saw a different side of the man. He saw peace and serenity.

Qui-Gon finished the moves, then ritually bowed. The class was quiet, every student mesmerized. The legionary Qui-Gon had just lived up to his name. He was a man of skill. "Line up on the line. Spread out. First position, no 'sabers."

The students scrambled to obey. Slowly, Qui-Gon repeated the moves and each student copied with varying degrees of success.

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment as he stumbled through the first six moves. He raised his arms for the seventh advance. He ignored the twinge of pain from the movement.

"Keep that arm down, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

Eventually, the stance came to an end. Qui-Gon instructed the class to repeat it once, and then again. Sometime during the second repetition, students for the next class started filtering in. Obi-Wan was dismayed to see that one of those students was Bruck.

He felt the boy's cold eyes bore into him, watching every mistake he made. Bruck's lips turned up into a smile when Obi-Wan stumbled again and then again. The more embarrassed he became, the more mistakes he made.

At long last, Qui-Gon called an end to the class. "I'll expect you to have it memorized in several days." With that, Obi-Wan's class was dismissed.

Obi-Wan wanted to leave, to be alone, but Bant, Reft and Garen gathered into a circle around him.

"Hey Obi!" Reft smiled. "How's life as a Padawan treatin' ya?"

"Yeah, Obi," Garen. "Tell us all about it."

Obi-Wan shrugged. He gave the same false answer he told everybody. "It's okay, I guess."

"What's the bond like?"

"Bond?"

"Yeah, the training bond with your master," Bant said. "What's it like?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Reft asked.

"That's what I mean," Obi-Wan said, irritably. "I don't know."

"Didn't you have a bond with your master?" Bant asked. "They say that every master and padawan shares a training bond."

"We didn't. I don't even want a bond with a master. Any master."

"Why?"

Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Then how will your master train you?"

"Haven't you heard?" Bruck said, interrupting as he approached the group. "Obi-Wan's master ditched him. "Isn't that right, Oafy-Wan?"

"That's not true!" Garen said, defending his friend. He looked to Obi-Wan, waiting for the boy to back him up. "Right Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan just looked. It was true. What could he say? Instead of saying anything, the boy pushed his way past Bant and ran for the locker room.

"Obi-Wan! Wait!" Bant called after her friend, confused. Master Qui-Gon had said that Obi-Wan wasn't in trouble. But, then why wouldn't Obi-Wan not have a master anymore? "Obi-Wan!"

Her friend ignored her as he ran away.

Bruck laughed.

Earlier that day, Obi-Wan's classes had gone much as he remembered from when he was an initiate. Only now they seemed longer and less interesting. All he had to do was sit and listen. It was better than saber practice.

At first he was worried because Qui-Gon was the teacher of some of them. But he quickly discovered that in the classroom he became 'just another student,' one of many.

His homework consisted of reading in a textbook, which he did at lunch. He wasn't very hungry anyway. All he had left to do for the day was those essays.

The one about honesty to a master was easy enough. Master Menix had drilled into him about honesty often enough. He could recite several of the lectures by memory.

The boy stared down at the blank plast for a while, thinking. The second essay was harder. Much harder.

Why had he lied to Master Qui-Gon? Because he was scared of being punished for his fear. But he couldn't just come out and say that! He'd get a double punishment. Once for lying, and then for his fear.

Obi-Wan glanced at the clock. Sith. He had only fifteen minuets left and nothing written.

"Are you almost finished, Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon's voice startled the boy. He was about to say 'yes,' but stopped. "No."

"Why not?" The question wasn't harshly spoken. It seemed to come from simple curiosity.

Obi-Wan shrugged.

Qui-Gon sat quietly, as if waiting for an answer. No one said anything for a few long moments. Finally he spoke. "I tell you what. You can give me the essays tomorrow."

Obi-Wan didn't know if he should feel relived or suspicious.

"But I want you to tell me why you lied to me this morning now."

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan didn't feel the panic that he expected. Perhaps he had resigned himself to the punishment that lay ahead, the boy guessed. But of course, that didn't mean that he didn't feel the anxiety of what was to come.

"I was afraid," Obi-Wan whispered. "I was afraid of my punishment."

"What were you afraid of being punished for?"

Obi-Wan wanted to shrug noncommittally. He wanted to run away. Most of all, he wanted to disappear. Instead, he answered the question. "I didn't think it'd matter if I was disciplined for my fear or for lying. So I lied."

Obi-Wan looked down at his feet and waited for Qui-Gon's reaction.

"Listen to me very carefully, Obi-Wan." The master lifted the boy's chin so he could look at him strait into the eyes. "I will never punish you for your emotions. Your emotions belong to you. You have every right to feel them. I and no other person can take them away from you--or punish you for them."

Obi-Wan was confused. Fear was of the Darkside. He should be punished for feeling fear so he wouldn't turn to the Dark.

"It's not your emotions that leads to the Darkside. It's what you do with your feelings that lead to the dark." Qui-Gon continued, sensing Obi-Wan's confusion. "Fear blocks your communication with the Force. This is why you were not able to complete the Fourth kata. You knew the moves, but you didn't know the Force. I asked you what you were feeling during the Kata because of this. You were feeling fear instead of the Force."

Qui-Gon could sense his fear? Did that mean he could sense other things too?

To Obi-Wan's surprise, Qui-Gon laughed. "You need to work on your shielding. I can feel your emotions, but I can not--will not--hear your thoughts. Your thoughts are your own."

Could he feel Qui-Gon's emotions? He concentrated and felt something. It was small, barley noticeable, but there. Peace. Calm. Assurance. Is this why he wasn't as afraid as he knew that he should be? Why could he sense anything from him at all? He could sense the presence of other people, but not their emotions.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's gentle touch to the young bond. There wasn't much he could do about the bond. He could ignore it and shield against the emotions flowing across it, but that was all. One could encourage or discourage the formation of a bond, but ultimately, it was up to the Force.

Obi-Wan still didn't understand that emotions didn't lead to the Dark. All of his life, he had heard that fear leads to the Darkside. He heard this from Yoda, Master Menix, and from every other master he had ever met. Was Qui-Gon wrong?

"Make no mistake, fear can lead to the Dark, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered the unspoken question. "But your emotions can free you from the Dark as well."

Obi-Wan was more confused than before.

"Let's get something to eat. After, there will be some time for meditation."

Obi-Wan nodded as he watched the man's large hands pat him on the knee. Were those the same hands he was scared of this morning? Instead of menacing, they suddenly seemed kind.

He felt hungry. Usually, he didn't feel like eating supper. He never had much of an appetite. This time was different.

There was an unspoken division of social rank in the cafeteria. By mutual consent, the masters and padawans seated themselves as far away as possible.

The Masters and knights sat at one end of the cafeteria, while the younger padawans and older initiates sat at another. The older padawans seated themselves in clusters of friends in one of the corners. In another corner, sat the non-Jedi that worked within the temple. The groups rarely mingled, speaking only when a knight or master ventured to the padawan's corner to tell the kids to shut-up or to stop some antic.

Obi-Wan was surprised when Qui-Gon led him to the non-Jedi corner. As they walked, Qui-Gon didn't stop to speak with friends or to socialize like the other Jedi. Several masters gave friendly greetings, but they were met with a curt nod. It seemed to Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon was just as unsociable as Master Menix was. Obi-Wan shrugged. He didn't like to talk to people either.

They ate in silence for a time until Qui-Gon spoke. "How was you session with the healers today?"

"They looked at my arm. Master Norda asked me a bunch of questions." Obi-Wan didn't mention that he didn't like his session with the healers. He hated answering the Mind-Healer's questions even more.

Silence broke out between them as they ate. Once again, it was Qui-Gon who broke it. "This looks interesting."

Obi-Wan looked up to see the man holding a piece of cardboard. All of the tables had a piece of cardboard folded into a triangle. Printed upon them were announcements. They had been there all day, but he hadn't noticed.

"Tronta Saber competition in six weeks. Again? So soon?" Qui-Gon mused. Tronta was a Jedi celebration that occurred every six years, and it lasted for a week. During that week, there were competitions and games. The highlight of Tronta was a saber competition. "Did you participate in the last one?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. I was sick. I spent most of the week in the infirmary."

"Neither did I. I was off planet." Truth was, he probably wouldn't have participated had he been on planet. The last Tronta he had participated in was twelve years ago, before Xani had turned to the Dark.

"Knights, Masters, Initiates, junior and senior Padawan one-on-one matches. Padawan-Master team matches. Kata competitions," Qui-Gon read the announcement. "Are you going to enter the competitions?"

Obi-Wan's eyes bulged in horror at the idea of himself participating in the competitions. Him? Compete? In front of the entire Jedi order? He'd get laughed at. "No."

"I thought you'd say that." Qui-Gin smiled. "I don't think I'll enter either."

"You'd just win anyhow. They say that you're the best swordsman."

The master laughed. "Who says that?"

"Everybody knows it." Obi-Wan shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I knew it before I met you."

"You do realize that you can't believe everything you hear, don't you? In fact, the last few times that I'd entered, I didn't win. In any of the competitions."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm not a perfect swordsman. Far from it, in fact. I make mistakes, just like everybody else."

"Oh."

Obi-Wan seemed uncomfortable with Qui-Gon's confession of imperfection, and their conversation died. They finished their meal in silence. They had just returned their trays and were about to walk back to their quarters when a Calamarian girl shyly approached.

Without realizing what he was doing, Obi-Wan took several steps closer to Qui-Gon. He didn't know about the developing training bond. He just knew subconsciously that Qui-Gon was a source of peace and calm.

He said nothing to her. They stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to say something.

"Hello Bant," Qui-Gon said. "Is there something I could help you with?"

"May I speak to Obi-Wan, Master Qui-Gon?"

"I think that's up to him." The master put a hand on his shoulder. He noticed that the boy didn't flinch from his touch this time. "Don't be too long, Obi-Wan."

The Master turned and left, leaving the children to themselves.

"I've been trying to speak to you all day," Bant said. Her voice sounded a little hurt and nervous. "You've been avoiding me."

"Sorry." Obi-Wan's eyes followed the retreating form Of the master. He started to feel anxious and had a strong urge to follow him.

"Are you mad at me?"

Obi-Wan was surprised. Why would he be mad at Bant? "No."

Bant looked relieved. "Did your master really leave?"

Obi-Wan nodded, staring down at the floor as several knights walked past him and he fought the urge to flinch away from them. There were a lot of other people in the cafeteria. He wanted to leave.

"Was it because you got into trouble?"

Wouldn't Bant ever stop asking questions so he could leave? "No."

"Who's your master now? Is it Master Jinn?"

"I don't have a master anymore."

"But you're still a Padawan, right?"

"I don't know. I gotta go," Before Bant could say anything more, Obi-Wan turned and ran away.

In his pajamas, Obi-Wan kneeled on the floor next to his master. It was a little past the nineteenth hour. He didn't have to go to sleep until three more hours. That meant three hours of meditating. Obi-Wan hated to meditate. It was boring.

He stifled a sigh as he resigned himself to three hours of kneeling and staring at the carpet.

"Do you know the Candlelight meditation?"

There were different types of meditation? They had names? For Master Menix there had only been one form, though now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered there were other forms when he'd been in crèche. He shook his head.

"The object of this meditation is to simply feel through the Force. You must feel the Force before you can use it," Qui-Gon said as he lit a candle. He placed it on a stand in front of them. "We will close our eyes and feel the flame through the Force. Reach out and feel it. Feel it with your mind."

Obi-Wan was confused, not knowing what to do. He tried for a few moments, but nothing happened.

"When you were in the crèche, do you remember moving things with the Force in the playroom?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Did you ever use the Force to stack blocks into towers?"

Again, Obi-Wan nodded,

"Before you were able to lift the blocks with the Force, you had to be able to feel them with the Force. This is no different."

The boy bit his lip. He could do that when he was younger, but for some reason he couldn't any more. Now, the only time he was able to move things with the Force was when he wasn't trying to. It only happened by accident. "Is it like when you sense another person?"

"In a way, but no. People are living beings. They radiate--give off--the Force. When you feel a person's presence, you are feeling the Force that they give off. In feeling the fire, or blocks, you must reach out with your senses. Like the way you would reach out with your hand to feel the surface of a block."

He furrowed his brows and tried again. "I can't."

"Yes you can," Qui-Gon said. "Clear your mind. Release your frustration and doubt. When your mind is calm, you will feel it."

Somehow, Qui-Gon's voice soothed the boy. The man's presence calmed him, but he didn't notice on a conscious level.

He still couldn't feel the flame.

"Is it alright if I show you?"

Obi-Wan hesitated only for a second. He was starting to trust this man. "Yes."

Obi-Wan felt the calm and peace intensify, then it was suddenly replaced by something...alive? No, it wasn't alive, but it felt almost alive. It danced and flickered like it was happy, but it didn't have any emotions. Suddenly he realized that he was feeling the flame.

"I feel it!" It was gone now, as if his excitement had pushed it aside. But that didn't dim the thrill. He had actually felt it.

"Can you do it again?"

Obi-Wan pushed aside his emotions, trying to repeat the feeling of peace. He couldn't quite achieve the same feeling of peace and calm, but he reached out to the flame anyway. That too, didn't feel the same. The fire felt weaker, as if diluted. An instant later, it was gone. But he had felt it. Without help too. "It doesn't feel the same as when you did it."

"That's because you need to practice. You need to quiet your inner-self. The louder you are, the less you'll hear the Force."

"Inner-self?"

"Your emotions. You need to quiet your doubts, fears, and anxieties. When they are quiet, you will feel peace and calm. Then you will be able feel the flame more clearly. Try again."

This time, Obi-Wan was able to quiet his mind a bit more. He was able to sense to flame for a longer amount of time. The sensation was stronger too.

Though he knew it was wrong, Obi-Wan felt a twinge of pride at his small accomplishment. "I did it."

"Good job. Do it again."

This time, it was easier than before. Obi-Wan practiced several more times. Soon, feeling the flame took hardly any effort at all.

"That's enough for tonight."

The voice interrupted Obi-Wan, startling him from the exercise he had just started. "What are we doing next?"

"Next?" Qui-Gon said. "We're going to bed, or at lest you are."

Bed? So soon?

"It's the twenty-first hour."

He'd been doing the flame exercise for two and half-hours?

"You look surprised."

"I, um, lost track of time. Sorry."

"You need to keep an awareness of what is happening around you at all times," Qui-Gon lectured. "It's a hard habit to break, not being aware. We'll work on it later."

Qui-Gon pulled out the pile of blankets and deposited them on the couch. "Go on. Get dressed for bed. Brush your teeth, use the fresher. Go do whatever it is you do."

His arm hurt again, and the ache in his head was back. The pain wasn't too bad. Both throbbed synchronously with is his heart. It was bearable, yet strong enough to wake him from his slumber.

He looked around the dark room. Everything was unfamiliar and a little bit scary.

Soft sounds of Qui-Gon's snores wafted from his bedroom. Somehow, the sound was comforting. It pushed back the feeling of unease a bit.

Obi-Wan stared up at the ceiling for a while, listening. Soon his eyes fell to the man's door. It was cracked open a bit, and Obi-Wan could barely make out the shadows of Qui-Gon's bed.

Almost of their own accord, Obi-Wan's gaze moved to the shut door. Once again, he wondered what was in the room, and why he couldn't sleep there.

It was locked. But what was so special in that bedroom that it deserved a lock?

As silently as possible, Obi-Wan slid off of the sofa. He crept towards the door. Once there, he paused to listen. The sound of Qui-Gon's breathing was the same. He was still asleep.

Kneeling down, he studied the lock. As far as locks went, it wasn't much of a lock. It was just a privacy lock. It was designed to lock from the inside of the room only. But it would only take a small flicker of the Force to lock or unlock it from the outside.

Could he unlock it? Obi-Wan quieted his mind just as he did earlier. He then felt for the release. He found it, and tried to disengage it. He failed. He concentrated for a second try.

The calm shattered as he was startled by a sound. Qui-Gon shifted in his sleep.

Obi-Wan held his breath as he waited for the master's breathing to steady again. After what seemed like an eternity, he dared to climb to his feet.

But instead of going back to the sofa, Obi-Wan crept to the other door. Peering in, he saw Qui-Gon on his side, his back away from the door. The sheets had fallen a bit, revealing the fabric of his sleep clothes.

Before he knew what he was doing, Obi-Wan slowly made his way to the foot of Qui-Gon's bed. The boy crouched down into the shadows. Hugging his knees to his chest, he sat listening to the man breathe.

He listened to the steady rhythm, it soothed him. His headache started to fade.

He had only intended to stay a few moments, but before he knew it, he had fallen to sleep.

Something woke him. He stared at the ceiling for a bit, wondering what it was. Deciding it was nothing, he closed his eyes.

About to drift off, a slight something nudged his mind. Again. He followed the sensation to the foot of his bed.

There, curled upon the floor, lay the boy.

Why would the boy sleep on his floor? He thought about carrying the child back to the sofa, but instead left him. If he wanted to sleep on the floor, then it was fine by him.

When morning came and Qui-Gon woke, the boy was gone.

TBC