Master Apprentice Archive Quick search:

Back to part 1

The next day they were called before the Council after twelfth hour. Obi-Wan was calm and relaxed, standing in his usual position just behind and beside Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon wished for the same calm. He had come to his own conclusions during the night before finally drifting off into sleep. They were not things he could easily accept, but he would, for Obi-Wan's sake. He only waited now for the Council's opinion on the matter before offering his own.

There was a long moment of silence as the Council regarded them both. Qui-Gon felt touch of unease between his shoulders. They were up to something, but he was not sure what.

Finally Mace leaned forward. "Obi-Wan. We agree with you, and with your reasons for not sharing your experience with us fully. But if the danger is as great as some of us feel that it may be, will you help to prevent it?"

"I had planned to do everything within my power to ensure that certain things do not come to pass," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I hope that I will not have to, but I am not so naive to believe otherwise. But if it becomes necessary," he continued, "I will make you this promise. There is a certain event that will occur several years from now that is... very important. If this event occurs, I will share my experience with you. Completely."

The Council members glanced at each other and nodded their agreement. "Acceptable," Mace said. "And we honor the faith you place with us in making such a promise."

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. "I... Thank you."

"Hmm. Move on, we will. One other thing there is to discuss," Yoda said, and looked at Qui-Gon. "Master Qui-Gon, more time you have spent in Padawan Kenobi's company than us. Tell us, you will, what your opinion of Obi-Wan is."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened fractionally. That was getting to the point with a vengeance! "Very well." He clasped his hands together, beginning to answer, when he paused. Things decided in the middle of the night made less sense during the light of day, and he was no longer certain about anything, really. "Masters, I do not... have a true opinion on the matter of my Padawan's experience. I have not really had the time to come to terms with the changes that have occurred. But I can tell you what I have observed." Obi-Wan raised startled eyes to him before recovering control of his expression.

"Do so, you will," Yoda instructed.

"He is... balanced. There is a strength and clarity of purpose to Obi-Wan that was not present before Taro Tre and his injury. His fine control over the Force has gone from questionable to outstanding, and I will not say such a thing lightly. I watched my Padawan reconstruct his lightsaber last night, converting a single crystal blade into a tri-crystal blade with practiced ease. He..." and Qui-Gon paused, still struggling with what he had witnessed. "He separated his old Illum crystal with the Force, and even though he showed me how to do it, I still do not dare attempt it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Obi-Wan blush and stare at the floor.

"Padawan Kenobi, may I see your lightsaber?" Mace asked, holding out his hand. Wordlessly Obi-Wan unclipped the saber from his belt and gave it to the senior Councilor, who examined it carefully.

Micah Giett, seated beside Mace, leaned closer. "Remarkable," he said, laying one finger on the hilt. Qui-Gon felt the currents of the Force shift as the Master probed the weapon. "Very well built. How long did it take you?"

"I... two hours?" Obi-Wan hazarded a guess. "I was not paying that much attention to the time."

Mace paused in his examination, and every Master in the room who carried a multi-crystal blade looked up in surprise. "Two hours?"

When Obi-Wan nodded, Mace looked at Qui-Gon, who shrugged slightly. "It could not have been longer than four hours." Which was an amazing accomplishment in itself; reconstructing a lightsaber was no simple task. Why hadn't he realized this last night? The more he considered Obi-Wan's actions, the more awed he became. Surely no one was meant to learn so much so quickly?

Mace returned the lightsaber without a word, but motioned for Qui-Gon to continue. "He has a fine understanding of Force Healing. Terza will be able to verify that Obi-Wan's injuries have been completely healed."

Adi Gallia glanced up, looking at the place on Obi-Wan's head where the slug had impacted. "Not even a scar. Healer Terza may try to recruit you." Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, and Qui-Gon smiled. There was little chance of Obi-Wan agreeing to that. "How did you learn?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I spent a very long time living alone. I had to become self-sufficient or suffer the consequences. I learned through necessity and a great deal of trial and error." He shrugged, smiling wryly. "Learning to set your own broken bones is very interesting."

Qui-Gon winced. That was one he'd dealt with himself, once. "His skill with a lightsaber has changed. He seems to be utilizing a mix of the Third and Fourth forms. I could be mistaken -- it felt like there was more involved when we sparred."

"You're not wrong," Obi-Wan said. "Towards the end I was stepping up to the Sixth. I also know the vapaad, but truthfully I'm not very good at it."

"At least you're honest about it," Mace offered him a partial smile. The vapaad, the Seventh Form, was one of the most brutal of all Jedi forms of combat - and Mace Windu was the only Master in the Temple who could use it with any success. "Who taught you?"

Obi-Wan ducked his head, smiling back. "Who else, Master Windu? You did."

"And if you know the Sixth, then I've finally got someone to practice with," Micah said, almost cheerful. He had said nothing yesterday and little today, a far cry from his usually active role on the Council. "There's only seven of us that use that one. Anything else, Qui-Gon?"

"Just one other... and I realized it from watching him work with the Illum." Qui-Gon paused, realizing Obi-Wan was looking at him strangely. "His understanding of the Living Force is even greater than mine."

There was a muted uproar at that, and Qui-Gon let it wash over him. He took no personal pride in the fact that out of all the Jedi in the Order, it was well-known that he had one of the strongest connections to the Living Force. Only Master Yoda could claim a greater strength, but the tiny being never confirmed nor denied this.

Obi-Wan shook his head and gave Qui-Gon a tiny smile. "You certainly know how to stir them up, Master."

"Hmm," Yoda said, pointing his gimer stick at Obi-Wan. "Agree with him, you do?"

"About my understanding?" Obi-Wan frowned seriously. "I honestly couldn't say, Masters. I daresay my Master is one of the few people who could recognize such a thing, but I've never given it any thought. I long ago came to a point in my life where I stopped looking at the Force as one or the other. It simply... is."

Qui-Gon pondered that quietly. He had quite honestly despaired of ever getting his Padawan to pay attention to the Living Force. Now it seemed his student had found his peace and more. "If ever a Padawan were more ready to become a Knight, I could not name one so," he said quietly.

That, he realized bemusedly, was met with no contradictions. As one the Council turned their eyes to Obi-Wan, who returned it with honest humility. No protests, no shock, no joy. He simply accepted it and waited. Of course, if the vision could be trusted, Obi-Wan had been through this before. The Council would merely be confirming a rank and state of mind that Obi-Wan had reached long ago. The Council turned their attention back to Qui-Gon. It didn't surprise him in the least that Mace was the first to speak.

"You have thought someone ready before, Qui-Gon," the man said, frowning at him. "The name Xanatos comes to mind."

Qui-Gon managed not to flinch at the reminder. "Perhaps that was willful blindness on my part, Masters," he said quietly.

"Willful blindness?" Micah repeated, though at least he, unlike Mace, did not look like he was ready to pounce.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. "I do not like being wrong."

Beside him Obi-Wan stifled a sudden snort of laughter. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Neither did I," Micah said, grinning for a moment. "It's nice to see you thinking clearly for once."

"Don't push it, Mic," Qui-Gon growled.

Yoda gave Obi-Wan a sad smile. "A Trial we think you have already had, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "Terrible your experience was, though joys it did have, yes?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "It was... not without its moments. If the Force had any purpose in showing me what it did, it forced me to witness and live through the worst fears anyone could have." He smiled again, but the haunted look was back in his eyes. "They were certainly mine."

"We understand, Obi-Wan," Depa said softly. "What we ask..." She smiled. "Qui-Gon tells us your skills are highly refined. A demonstration of such understanding of the Force would be a gift to us, coming from one so young."

"A... demonstration?" Obi-Wan pursed his lips, going from surprised to thoughtful in the blink of an eye. "I suppose..." he looked down at the tiled floor with a curious gleam in his eyes. "All right. Though I would advise against moving, if I were you." With that he closed his eyes, his head tilting back slightly.

The floor began to move.

In keeping with Obi-Wan's advice, Qui-Gon forced himself not to step away as the tiny pieces of tile, artfully arranged on the floor, rose up into the air. Yoda's eyes went wide as the decorative bits of tile began to float in shifting patterns, the multi-hued pieces catching the light from the sun and adding to the beauty of the configuration. Obi-Wan himself stood at the center as tiles dipped and spun, his eyes still closed, expression utterly tranquil.

Mace reached out to touch one of the tiles, and it danced just out of reach of his fingers. Obi-Wan's lips quirked up in a smile.

Depa, almost as sensitive as Qui-Gon was to the currents of the Force, had tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh, Obi-Wan. That's so beautiful."

It was enough to make him realize that he felt the same awe. He could feel the energy patterns Obi-Wan was creating all around them, a brilliant tapestry only highlighted by the tiles under his control. "How?" he whispered, not trusting his voice for more.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at him, his control never slipping. "Grains of sand. I had so much time to think, so much time to feel. I spent so much time alone... I needed to be able to connect. I needed the balance, the peace. So I manipulated the sand, which is so much more difficult than this. It's hard to find the individual grains, make them dance around you." His expression saddened abruptly, and the tiles began to lower, finding their old homes in the floor with a series of near-silent clicks as stone touched stone. Obi-Wan was still outwardly serene, but the utter peace that Qui-Gon had felt from him during the display was gone. He felt like crying, suddenly, and had no idea why.

"Agree with you this Council does," Yoda said, with a nod to Qui-Gon. The ancient Master was smiling warmly, his eyes filled with merriment and no little wonder as he looked at the young man at Qui-Gon's side.

"Master Jinn," Mace said solemnly. Qui-Gon swallowed and nodded. He withdrew a knife from his belt, one he had tucked away after dressing that morning. He had felt-- no, known that it would be necessary.

Obi-Wan faced him now, staring up at him with a strange jumble of emotion in his eyes that spoke volumes. He knew that his own eyes reflected much of the same; he had expected this day years from now. Instead, he was losing this bright presence after a mere three years. He smiled down at Obi-Wan, even as part of him cried out at the unfairness of it. "Padawan Kenobi," he said, his voice a low rumble. He knew the words - had done this once before, in a time long distant - but the words simply would not come. He reached out to touch the Padawan braid, the auburn length that only just touched Obi-Wan's collarbone. Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath at the contact, but his eyes never faltered, not even when Qui-Gon drew the knife swiftly across the braid, severing it in one clean stroke. He took Obi-Wan's hand, pressing the coiled length into the other's palm. Only then would words come, though they were far from traditional. "I Knight thee, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said softly, even though his voice carried throughout the chamber. "May the light you bring to the Order always burn brightly."

Obi-Wan looked down at the braid in his hand, smiling. "I should have known not to expect tradition from you, my Master. But I find that I am... very traditional." He looked up and held the braid out to Qui-Gon.

He clenched his jaw tightly for a moment. "Obi-Wan, no. I... I had little to do with this."

"No!" Obi-Wan said fiercely, surprising him. "No. You had everything to do with it. Don't you ever, even for a moment, believe otherwise." He offered it again, his gaze going from demanding to pleading. "Master."

Still Qui-Gon hesitated. Finally Mace could take it no longer. "Force's sake, Qui-Gon, take the damned thing!"

Qui-Gon turned and glared at his friend, even as Obi-Wan grinned and Yoda's ears twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "Very well, since I am outnumbered." He turned back to Obi-Wan, accepting the braid, and twining it around his fingers. "Thank you, Padawan." He grinned suddenly. "Knight Kenobi."

Obi-Wan offered a mischievous smile in return. "Master Jinn." They turned back to the Council, and Obi-Wan bowed gracefully to them. "Thank you, Masters," he said. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe, strangely hesitant. "Masters, may I make a request of you?"

Micah gave Obi-Wan a curious glance. "Of course, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan bowed solemnly to him. "Thank you, Master Giett." Again Qui-Gon felt that tingle of unease, but it had nothing to do with whatever request his Padawan wished to make. He touched the Force, surprised to find the foreboding that seemed to center around Micah. Qui-Gon gave his friend a worried glance, unnoticed by the other Master.

"My Masters... I made a promise, a long time ago. Well," he paused, smiling slightly when Yoda chuckled, "you know what I mean. That promise involved a young boy living on a planet in the Outer Rim. He has the potential to be a great Jedi. I would like your permission to make contact with him."

"More to your request there is," Yoda said, lowering his ears and giving Obi-Wan a level stare.

Obi-Wan inclined his head in acknowledgement of the Master's words. "Yes. There are certain difficulties involved. The first is that he resides on Tatooine, a world not governed by the Republic."

"So he has not been tested," Mace surmised. "If he exists, how old would he be?"

Obi-Wan paused. "He would be five years old. I realize that he is already far older than would be preferable, but I do not believe it would be a problem in this case. Either way, his age is irrelevant to a more pressing concern. He is a slave."

Micah raised one eyebrow. "So you would also request that we buy this slave, to bring him to the Temple for testing?"

"Yes Masters," Obi-Wan replied. "It is... at great cost, I know. But I believe we would gain far more than we would lose. However, there is another problem; Republic credits are of little value on Tatooine. An alternate method of payment would have to be found."

Eeth caught Obi-Wan's eye. "You could simply go in and take him. Even if he is implanted with a tracking device and the usual explosives that accompany it, a Jedi would easily overcome such an obstacle."

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to bristle over the other Master's words. Obi-Wan had made this request, and it would be up to Obi-Wan to answer.

He need not have worried; Obi-Wan gave Eeth a flat stare that spoke volumes. "While slavery is deplorable and not legal within the confines of the Republic, Tatooine is beyond such concerns. Slavery is a way of life on that planet. I hate to think of it this way, but I would be stealing legally owned property, even if that property happens to be sentient life. The boy's owner would still suffer from the loss, and he was not a bad sort, if a bit misguided."

"It is unfortunate, but we may not be able to grant this request," Mace said, steepling his fingers together. "The purchase of a slave is a major undertaking, even for a Force-sensitive child. While it is true that it is merely an accident of birth that has placed this child in a deplorable situation, we do not have the funds to search for and retrieve all of the children born outside of the Republic."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed slightly. Qui-Gon braced himself; his Padawan was mentally digging in his heels, preparing to fight this out over the long haul. He was quite familiar with the expression that marked Obi-Wan's most stubborn moments. "Both arguments are valid, Masters," Obi-Wan said. "And while I will abide by the Council's decision not to retrieve the boy through approved methods, I will not be able to let it go at that. I made a promise, and I will keep it, even if I must handle the situation alone. But... this is an unusual situation. The boy I speak of..." Obi-Wan hesitated, then steadied himself and began again. "He has a midichlorian count of over twenty thousand."

Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan, mind temporarily blank in shock. He was not the only one. He distantly enjoyed seeing a floored expression on Mace's face for the second time in less than a week.

Only Yoda managed to take in the information calmly. Ears raised, he regarded Obi-Wan in concern. "Sure, are you?"

"Yes. I ran the blood analysis myself. The results were... off the chart." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples for a moment.

"Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon, then nodded firmly. "Yes. Just a bit of deja vu."

Micah managed to stop the murmuring in the Council chamber by holding up both hands. "I say that we allow this retrieval. A boy with that kind of potential might become a danger to himself, and others, if his talents remain untrained. The last thing we need to discover ten years from now is a rogue Force user with dangerously unstable abilities."

"Wait," Yarael interrupted. "We do not even know if this boy exists. He could have been a creation of the vision, a manifestation of the Force. We would be putting time and a large amount of credits into an effort with no result to show for it."

Depa half-smiled. "If he does not exist, the money is not lost. If he does exist, the expenditure will be compensated by a bright young life with grand potential. If he was merely a manifestation of the Force, then the only thing Knight Kenobi and Master Jinn will lose is travel time."

Qui-Gon experienced an odd moment, hearing the new title Obi-Wan held slip from Depa's lips. "I am glad you chose to include me, Master Billaba," Qui-Gon smiled. "Because I would be going with him regardless."

Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped in visible relief as the rest of the Council nodded their agreement. "Thank you, Masters."

"Don't be so quick to thank us, Obi-Wan," Saesee said, but he was smiling. "Tatooine is a dangerous place."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I am aware of the danger, Masters. I used to live there."

The young man's statement stilled whatever warning Master Tiin might have given him.

Micah and Mace exchanged glances before Mace sighed. "Very well then. For your first mission as a Knight of the Order, we grant you leave to depart for Tatooine and seek this child. May the Force be with you both."

Obi-Wan tilted his face up, closing his eyes as rain poured down on him in the artificial environment of the gardens. It was a blessing, it was wonderful, it was all of the things he had missed, spending twenty years on a desert world alone. Rain drenched his face, his hair, his clothing, and he gloried in the sensation. Once, long ago, he had disliked rain and mud. The dampness had been irritating for a young Padawan, growing up in the Temple as he had.

No longer. He sighed deeply, knowing he was attracting attention and not caring. There were other Jedi in the garden, but they were sensibly doing their meditation under enclosures where the rain did not fall. Obi-Wan realized he probably looked a bit strange, sitting out in the rain. Obviously he looked old enough to be a Padawan, but now lacked the braid that would signify his status.

He was having such a hard time reconciling his old life with this new one.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes as he sensed the approach of another, smiling when he saw Yoda. "Troubled, you are," he said by way of greeting.

"The Force has given me a miraculous gift," Obi-Wan said softly, wiping rain from his face so that he could see clearly. "But I have ... misgivings."

"Hmm." Yoda settled to the grass beside him, uncaring of the rain that immediately soaked his own robes. "Afraid you are, that real this is not."

Obi-Wan ducked his head with a soft smile. "You could always read me well, Master. And it's true. What I lived through was real. Yet so is this. I am afraid I will wake up and this will be an illusion. And that... that I will be alone."

"If part of the Force you had become, alone you would not be," Yoda pointed out.

"But alone I was," Obi-Wan said, running his fingers through the wet grass. "I made a choice, Master Yoda. In my... dream, I lived my own death." He smiled a little over his choice of words. "Instead of joining with the Force, I remained in the world of the living as much as I was able. I had promised to look out for two young lives, and had been guiding one of them on the path of the Jedi. I could not abandon him to that fate alone. There... " he hesitated. "There was no one else to leave the task to. Though eventually I did get him to you."

"Happy I must have been," Yoda said, suspiciously sarcastic. "A Padawan I have not had since Dooku. Decided I did years ago, that no more Padawans I would take."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You were less than enthusiastic, but saw the necessity of it. And then... when I had the option of truly becoming one with the Force, I heard someone calling me. It was... a voice I had not heard, in a very long time. But promises were made, so I answered. And I woke up in the Ward."

Yoda sighed, his eyes half-closed. "See, I can, how difficult this would be. But strong you are, Obi-Wan. Strong you have always been." He poked Obi-Wan in the thigh with his gimer stick. "Faith you must have, that the Force will lead you down the right path. Feel the Force now, do you not?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The Force was there, comforting in its embrace, whispering of its presence to him. He breathed in deeply, smelling rain and earth and the abundance of growing things in the meditation garden. All of these things sang to him, bound together in the web of energy that he had eventually learned to see.

"Yes," Yoda said quietly, and Obi-Wan could feel the Master's pleasure in his intense connection to the Force. "What does it tell you, crecheling mine?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "To take what I can get and not worry so damn much." He opened his eyes, to find Yoda looking up at him with a familiar glint in his eyes. "Don't hit me with that stick of yours, Master. Terza will not be happy if you send me back to the Healers with gimer-like bruises."

"Hmmph." But Yoda smiled, and merely prodded the ground with the end of his stick. "Something else is on your mind. Speak to me of it, you wish to?"

Obi-Wan shifted, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. "The Force has a warped sense of humor, Master. For years I waited, hoping that one day I would have the opportunity to tell someone how I felt about them, even if I had to wait until death brought us back together again." He sighed, grinning. "And now I have that chance? and I'm sixteen. I'm sixteen again!" He shook his head when Yoda chuckled. "You go ahead and laugh. It's not illegal for you to get laid."

The little Master laughed outright, a loud, delighted sound, surprising the few other Jedi who were meditating in the gardens. "Patience, you must have."

He looked at Yoda suspiciously. "You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you."

Yoda nodded. "When eight hundred years old you reach, obvious some things will become."

"Yes... some things do become more noticeable with experience," Obi-Wan said dryly. "What do you think my chances are, Master?"

Yoda's expression was carefully neutral. "Always in motion is the future, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan gave a pained cry and lay back in the grass. "I just knew you were going to say that."

They laughed together, drawing curious stares from the other Jedi, who wondered just who this boy was that was so comfortable in the venerable old Master's presence. "Feel better you do, yes?"

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan said, grinning up at the holographic sky. The rain was beginning to slack off, the plants watered for this cycle.

"Good." Yoda looked pleased. "Waiting for you, Master Qui-Gon is. Keep him waiting you should not."

"NO!"

Qui-Gon Jinn sprang from his bunk, landing in a crouch on the floor of the tiny cabin, his unlit lightsaber in his hand. The cry that had awoken him was not repeated, but he could feel the stark terror emanating from the next room.

Obi-Wan.

He paused only long enough to pull his robe on over his sleep pants and raced into the other's cabin, falling to his knees next to the bunk. Obi-Wan was writhing, arms raised as he fought unseen demons. His face was drawn, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. "Obi-Wan," he said, catching the young man by his shoulders when Obi-Wan thrashed against him. "Obi-Wan!"

Abruptly Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, wide and panicked. "Obi-Wan, it's me. Relax," he soothed. "Breathe, Obi-Wan. It was just a dream."

For a long moment the young man's body remained tense, his hands clenched into fists. "Master?"

"Yes, it's me, Obi-Wan. I'm here." Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief as Obi-Wan shuddered and relaxed, falling back onto the bunk. "Nightmares again?"

Obi-Wan groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. "Force yes," he said. "I haven't had a cycle this bad since... well..." he shrugged, smiling wearily up at Qui-Gon. "It's been a while. I'm sorry I woke you, Master."

"Nonsense," Qui-Gon replied, sitting back on his heels as Obi-Wan's breathing began to even out. They were on their fifth day's journey through hyperspace, and nightmares had plagued Obi-Wan the entire time. He was beginning to see why Obi-Wan had become something of an insomniac. It was probably an instinctive reaction to protect himself from the terror that imprisoned him during the night. "Do you remember anything?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "No. I have... all sorts of different nightmares. But this particular one comes and goes in cycles. I never remember any details when I wake up. All I know is that something terrible is happening to me and I can do nothing about it." He shuddered again, goose bumps forming on his arms and bare chest. "And I've never really cared for being helpless, Master."

"You can call me by name, you know," he said, smiling when Obi-Wan looked up at him in surprise. "You keep catching yourself. I am not adverse to my former Padawan calling me by name."

"I... all right. I was not sure if I should." Obi-Wan sat up, placing his feet on the floor. He grinned. "Qui-Gon."

"Don't let the privilege go to your head or anything," Qui-Gon drawled. Obi-Wan laughed, as Qui-Gon had hoped he would. "You should try going back to sleep. We still have a few hours before making planetfall."

Obi-Wan shook his head, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. "No... I think I've slept enough."

Breakfast was one of the few things Qui-Gon managed not to obliterate, Tahl had told him once. That was what he was preparing now, a quick blend of grains while waiting for the tea to steep. Carrying everything into the main hold on a tray, he found Obi-Wan already at the table, hair still damp from his shower. The young man's usual serenity was present, but marred slightly by the faint crescents under his eyes that spoke of his restless nights.

Obi-Wan's attention was focused on the data pad he held, the information flying across the screen so fast that Qui-Gon could comprehend none of it.

Loath as he was to disturb Obi-Wan's concentration, the decision was taken out of his hands when Obi-Wan looked up. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Qui-Gon replied, setting the tray down on the table and unloading its contents. "What's that?"

Obi-Wan put the data pad down, reaching over to snag a mug of tea. "Just the news feeds for the past week or so. I'm trying to ground myself in what's actually going on right now."

"A refresher course?" Qui-Gon asked, taking a seat. His own tea mug was the first thing in his hands. Caffeine first. Food could wait.

"I suppose you could call it that," Obi-Wan smiled faintly, stirring the warm bowl of grain with his spoon before beginning to eat. Qui-Gon was content to watch, at first, feeling melancholy. He missed the mischievous grin Obi-Wan would offer him when presented with any of his Master's cooking, usually with commentary on how ration bars were preferable. He missed the teasing, the familiarity they had with one another.

He wasn't about to lose any of that without an attempt to save it. "What? No sounds of complaint?"

"I've had worse."

Qui-Gon looked down at his food. "Really? You'll have to tell everyone else that. Mace swears up and down that there's nothing worse in the galaxy."

"I'm sure the infamous Master Jinn is quite capable of defending his own culinary talents," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, then noticed that Obi-Wan was grinning down at the table. "I have been doing so for years, with little success," he said, suddenly feeling better. Maybe things were not as bad as he feared.

"Perhaps you should devote your energies to improving the quality of the presentation instead?" Obi-Wan looked up, eyes dancing.

Oh yes, Qui-Gon thought, hiding a relieved grin. The mischievous spirit was still there, lurking underneath the veneer of sober and stoic man. He made a show of stirring the cooked grain with his own spoon. "This is improved."

Obi-Wan laughed aloud, a very rare sound of late. "Then perhaps I'll put in a good word for you after all, Master."

"I would appreciate it," Qui-Gon replied, smiling.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, but for the first time since Taro Tre it was a comfortable one. Finally Obi-Wan pushed his empty plate aside, leaning forward seriously. "Qui-Gon, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly, Obi-Wan."

"What do you think? About what's happened to me?" Obi-Wan looked at him earnestly.

"What do I think?" Qui-Gon drank the last of his tea, pondering the question. It was not an easy one to answer. "I believe that nothing happens by accident," he said finally. "The Force must have shown you what it did for a reason."

Obi-Wan snorted. "You'll forgive me if I wish that the Force had chosen someone else."

"Forgiven, and understandable," Qui-Gon replied. The nightmares Obi-Wan suffered made it easy to offer sympathy. "May I ask you something, Padawan?" Obi-Wan nodded. "Why is this boy so important to you?"

"Ah," Obi-Wan grinned. "You mean, why is this boy so important that I rush out to the Outer Rim as soon as my braid is cut to find him." When Qui-Gon merely shrugged in response, Obi-Wan sobered. "Even if Master Poof is right, and what happened to me is just a complex Force vision... Like you say, I must have experienced it for a reason. Everything I am tells me that this is important, and that he needs to be found before--" Obi-Wan paused.

"Before what?" Qui-Gon prompted him.

"Before he really is too old to train," Obi-Wan finished, frowning pensively.

Qui-Gon let it go at that, though he was left with the feeling that Obi-Wan had originally meant to say something else entirely. But nor was he going to allow Obi-Wan to sink back into silence. "Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze. "I have all of these memories in my head, but I'm the only one who experienced them. I have no... basis for comparison, no one to discuss any of it with. I keep wanting to mention things, but then I realize they haven't happened yet, and may never happen. I feel... very isolated."

"I'm here, Obi-Wan, any time you need to talk," Qui-Gon offered. "You don't need to go through this alone."

Obi-Wan looked up, eyes illuminated by his warm smile. "I missed you, Master. I really did."

Qui-Gon decided within the first five minutes of planetfall that life on Tatooine must be an acquired taste. Master of the Living Force or not, the planet's barren landscape and harsh environment did not suit him in the slightest. He followed Obi-Wan into Mos Espa, the younger man making his way unerringly through the streets. For such an out of the way planet, the place was surprisingly crowded, and all manner of species were wandering about.

His danger sense was constantly being set-off by those passing by. "Rough place," he commented.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Oh, it has its charms. Just keep an eye to your personal belongings."

Qui-Gon raised one eyebrow. "Fearless enough to steal from Jedi?" While the robes they wore were commonplace, they had not bothered to disguise who they were.

"With Hutts running the place?"

"You do have a point." Qui-Gon watched a group of children run past, tossing a ball back and forth between them. "You mentioned this planet having its charms."

"The native species are incredibly easy to get along with, if you can come to some sort of understanding with them. Unfortunately the settlers tend to shoot first and ask questions later when it comes to the Tusken tribes. The Sand People have pretty much declared all-out war on the outlying farms." Obi-Wan stopped to talk with an old woman minding a vegetable stand, conversing idly in a local tongue Qui-Gon didn't understand before paying for several pieces of fruit and continuing. "Otherwise... the weather doesn't offer much, but the sunsets are incredible."

Qui-Gon accepted the fruit Obi-Wan handed him, biting into a tart, succulent mouthful. Like many desert fruits, it was surprisingly delightful. "You know this place well."

"I lived here." Obi-Wan stopped at a street corner, and they both watched as a gigantic quadruped ambled past, being led by two tiny Jawas. "For a long, long time." He closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead.

Qui-Gon suddenly remembered what Obi-Wan had said in the Council chamber about the sand. This deplorable planet was where his Padawan had spent so many years alone? "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon touched his shoulder, concerned when Obi-Wan's eyes remained tightly closed, his entire being radiating tension.

"I don't know if I can do this," Obi-Wan muttered. "I... I don't understand what's happened, Qui-Gon. I feel like I'm living in a dream and any moment I'll wake up to some harsh reality. How can I be here?" He swayed, and Qui-Gon half-pulled, half-carried the young man into the shade of an alley before Obi-Wan dropped to his knees.

Qui-Gon knelt in front of him, carefully pulling Obi-Wan's hands away from his face. "Obi-Wan, look at me."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, looking at him almost desperately. "Please be real," he whispered, eyes filling with unshed tears. "I need you to be real."

"I thought real was subjective," Qui-Gon replied softly, cupping Obi-Wan's face with his hands.

"Right now I don't give a damn," Obi-Wan surprised him by saying, leaning into the gentle touch.

"I'm here. Focus, Obi-Wan, on the here and now."

Obi-Wan released a deep, shuddering sigh, his eyes regaining their sharp focus. "Thank you."

"Any time," Qui-Gon said softly, resting his hands on Obi-Wan's thin shoulders and sending a reassuring pulse of energy to the young man. "What was that about?"

Obi-Wan gave him a weak grin. "A really, really bad case of dejă vu?" He shook his head, allowing Qui-Gon to help him to stand. "It's just... odd, Qui-Gon. I suppose I'll get used to it eventually. Or go insane. One or the other."

"I doubt you will go insane, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, giving Obi-Wan's hand a reassuring squeeze and releasing it. "Just keep your focus where it belongs."

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "I'll keep that in mind, Master." He resettled his cloak about his shoulders and led them back out onto the street. "Come on. It's this way."

'It' turned out to be the slave quarter, a series of roughly put together buildings that seemed to radiate equal amounts despair and warmth. Qui-Gon had a hard time sorting out all of the emotional imprints the place held.

Obi-Wan looked over each of the buildings in turn, apparently searching for something. "Do you feel it?" he asked after a moment, his eyes unfocused.

Qui-Gon paused, reached out into the Force and saw it immediately, a bright spot of immense Force potential amid a wash of faintly burning lights. "Is that... who we're looking for?"

Obi-Wan nodded absently. "Yes."

He led them to a house at the end of the street, pausing at the front door before skirting the house and heading to the back. Qui-Gon followed, curious at Obi-Wan's choice as they found themselves in a sandy courtyard. Parts were scattered all over the place, most of them showing signs of serious attempts at repair. Obi-Wan stopped suddenly, staring, and Qui-Gon followed his gaze.

A boy was sitting on a bench, frowning intently at a circuit board held in his small hands. The boy's eyes were piercingly blue against his tanned face. He was thin, but not desperately so, and his unkempt blonde hair shone brightly in the sun. It was almost as bright as his presence in the Force, and Qui-Gon wondered how any Jedi could have been to this planet since the boy's birth and not sensed him.

The boy's eyes narrowed, as if he sensed their scrutiny, and he looked up. Abruptly the circuit board was dropped and forgotten as he ran across the yard, straight for them. Qui-Gon tensed, half-expecting a fight from an angry child, protective of what little he might own. But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

"OBI-WAN!" the boy yelled, a sound of pure delight.

Obi-Wan's mouth fell open, his eyes impossibly wide as he dropped to his knees just as the boy threw himself into Obi-Wan's arms.

"I knew it! I knew it, I knew you'd come for me!" the boy was saying over and over again, not relinquishing his stranglehold on Obi-Wan's neck.

Obi-Wan's arms, trembling visibly, wrapped around the boy hesitantly. "Anakin?" he whispered. "You... you... you know me?"

The boy pulled back enough to look directly into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Yeah. And you know me. I knew you wouldn't forget about me, Obi-Wan." The boy smiled, the expression almost heart achingly beautiful. "Ben."

Obi-Wan uttered a choked sob and hugged the boy fiercely, rocking back and forth on the hot sand. "Ani... oh, Ani..." his words trailed off into murmurings of reassuring nonsense.

"I've been waiting for you," a quiet voice said near Qui-Gon's shoulder. He whirled, shocked that someone had gotten so close to him without notice, and found a woman standing before him. She had dark hair and eyes, and the weathered features of someone whose life had been hard. But there was a smile on her face, and her eyes were kind as she looked up at him.

Qui-Gon found himself, for one of the few times in his life, at a complete loss for words. She seemed to understand, her smile fading a little as she looked down at the two clinging to each other. "It's all right. I'll explain what I know... and perhaps Ani can fill you in on the rest."

He forced the words past a throat suddenly tight. "Who are you?"

She gave him a curtsey that would have done a noble proud. "Shmi Skywalker, sir Jedi. Anakin is my son."

Somehow Qui-Gon and Shmi got Anakin and Obi-Wan inside. The two did not separate, and seemed largely unaware of their surroundings. Obi-Wan sat in a single chair, with the boy balanced on his lap. They were quite content to cling to each other, and Qui-Gon was content to let them.

It gave him time to recover.

Shmi sat them all down at a table in a plain but cozy kitchen, and boiled a foreign but refreshing tea for Qui-Gon and herself. He wrapped his hands around the cup, not even caring at the moisture that instantly collected between the mug and his palms.

"It happened about two weeks ago," she began, without preamble, staring into her mug with distant eyes. "Anakin came down with one of the local sicknesses. All of the children pick them up at some time or another, and Ani was no different in that regard. But when the fever went away?" she trailed off, lifting distraught eyes to Qui-Gon. "He would not wake up. Watto was angry that we were missing so much work, but even he couldn't deny that my boy was? was very ill." Her gaze fell once more to the tea mug.

"Watto would be your? owner?" he managed to say the word mildly enough.

Shmi nodded. "I spent days watching over Ani. They were the most terrifying days of my life, Master Jedi," she whispered. "And when he woke up, he was different."

"Not that different, Mom," the boy piped up, smiling at Shmi. "I just? know stuff. Like Obi-Wan, and Master Qui-Gon?" he trailed off when the Master in question boggled openly at him.

"You know me?" Qui-Gon managed after a long moment, while Anakin practically squirmed in embarrassment. "How?"

Anakin shrugged and looked up at Obi-Wan. "You didn't tell him?"

Obi-Wan smiled half-heartedly. "I haven't? said much. I wasn't sure what was really safe to talk about."

"Oh." Anakin mulled over this for a moment. "Is it? is it okay, if I tell him this? It wouldn't hurt anything, would it?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I don't think it would hurt. Just try not to go into details."

"That's okay," Anakin said, shrugging. "I don't really remember details anyway." He turned his attention back to Qui-Gon. "You were the first Jedi I ever met. You were on Tatooine for some reason. I don't really remember why. You, and Padmé?" Tears suddenly welled up in his expressive blue eyes.

"Easy, easy," Obi-Wan whispered, holding Anakin close again. "It's all right."

Qui-Gon sat back in his chair as his earlier thought regarding Anakin's powerful presence in the Force came back to haunt him. No wonder Obi-Wan was so close to this boy, if Qui-Gon himself was the one who had discovered him. Or would have, he amended. But who was Padmé? Another Jedi, perhaps? And where had Obi-Wan been during all of this? He shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more questions he had. It was doubtful that he would get answers to them all.

Anakin wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve, and Shmi reached across the table to caress his cheek. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just really miss her."

"So do I." Obi-Wan smiled and ran his hand through Anakin's hair. "What all do you remember, Ani?"

Anakin frowned, biting his lip. "Not? not a lot, really. I mean, I remember you and Master Qui-Gon. I remember the Jedi? and I remember?" his eyes went wide. "Bad things happened. Didn't they, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Yes," he whispered. "You remember that?"

"Kinda." Anakin picked up Obi-Wan's hand and held it in both of his own, touching the lightsaber calluses on Obi-Wan's palm. "But it's all fuzzy. Like it's stuff I shouldn't remember. Not yet, I guess. But I remember you waiting for me. At the end. Before? before we woke up."

Two tears escaped Obi-Wan's closed eyes, rolling unheeded down his face. "I remember that, too," he replied, almost choking on the words.

Shmi smiled, but her eyes were suspiciously moist. "You and Obi-Wan were all he could talk about. I don't understand what happened to my son, Master Jedi. But it must have been good, to lead the two of you here." She gave him a look that could only be described as quiet pleading. "Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?"

Qui-Gon hesitated, glancing at Obi-Wan. The young man looked down at Anakin in turn. "It's your choice, Ani. Always has been."

Anakin didn't hesitate before replying. "You know it's what I was meant to do. But I can't go anywhere, not without Mom."

Shmi protested immediately. "Anakin, no. You can't think of me in a situation like this. You have your entire life ahead of you!"

"Actually, he's right," Obi-Wan interrupted her softly. "I can't ask him to leave without you. Fortunately, that's not a choice any of us will have to make."

Qui-Gon snorted with suppressed laughter. "I thought the amount of credits you asked the Council for was a bit high."

Obi-Wan favored him with a mischievous grin. "I told them the amount was necessary. I didn't say why."

Anakin was looking at them with comprehension dawning in his eyes. "You mean it? Both of us? You're going to get us both from Watto?"

Shmi floundered, glancing around the table in confusion. "I don't understand."

Obi-Wan smiled gently at her. "After I speak to Watto in the morning, you will both be free. If you have no objections, of course."

Shmi gaped at him. "Objections? I? no!" She smiled, an expression of such brilliance that it eclipsed the careworn lines of her face and made her truly beautiful. "That's so wonderful! Ani, can you believe it?"

Anakin grinned, hugging Obi-Wan delightedly. "Thank you! Thank you, Obi-Wan, thank you so much!"

Shmi pressed her hands to her face, wiping her streaming eyes. "Yes. Thank you." She raised grateful eyes to Qui-Gon, her smile tremulous but no less beautiful as she cried in happiness. "Thank you so much."

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway of Anakin's room, watching as Anakin happily showed off his projects to a bemused Obi-Wan. "?and this is Threepio," the boy was saying, showing off a half-assembled droid. "I found him at Watto's, back in the scrap pile. They were going to toast him, you believe that? So I brought him home. Watto didn't even notice."

Obi-Wan was touching the droid's unwieldy frame with a hint of a smile on his face. "He looked quite a bit different, the last time I saw him."

"Yeah, that I remember," Anakin said, a disgusted look on his face. "Did you see what Bail did to my droid? I mean, come on. Gold?" He shuddered while Obi-Wan laughed.

"Well, he is a protocol droid," Obi-Wan said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That I could appreciate. Got upped from six languages to six billion. He was a regular walking linguist. Just like someone else I can mention."

"I hardly know six billion languages, Ani," Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

"Well, no. But you know enough of them." Anakin turned, spied Qui-Gon in the doorway, and immediately blushed to the roots of his hair. "Uhm. Hi, Master Qui-Gon. We were just? uhm? talking."

"It's all right, Ani," Obi-Wan soothed, grinning. "I don't think we've done any damage by discussing the future of one unfortunate droid. What is it, Master?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm going to head back to the ship before dinner. The Council should hear of our progress."

"You mean the Council should hear about the fact that I'm not crazy, and Anakin really exists," Obi-Wan replied, but his eyes were dancing with good humor. "That's probably a good idea. You'll be careful?"

Qui-Gon drew himself up to his full height in mock-indignance, the top of his head just brushing the low ceiling. "I'll have you recall that I was a full Jedi Master long before you were born, Padawan-mine."

Obi-Wan grinned and bowed in return. "Of course, Master Jinn. How silly of me to caution prudence." He sobered a bit. "Just bear in mind that a lot of the locals are fairly well immune to suggestion, Qui-Gon. It can be troublesome, especially among some of the packs."

Qui-Gon found himself biting back an annoyed retort. Obi-Wan lived here for a long time, he reminded himself sternly. Anakin alone is proof enough that his experience was real, or as real as it can get. He knows this place better than you do. "I'll keep that in mind. I'll be back soon." He ruffled Anakin's hair, and the boy grinned up at him adoringly.

Qui-Gon touched the container in his belt-pouch that held a sample of Anakin's blood. There was an analyzer on the ship that would be able to read the boy's midichlorian count. "I trust the two of you can keep out of trouble."

Anakin gave him a proper bow, arms crossed as if he were enveloped in a Jedi cloak. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon kneeled on the floor of the ship in front of the holo-recorder. Next to the recorder was a tiny view screen, where he could see Mace, Yoda, and Micah, the only part of the Council visible on the tiny feed. "There is a complication, Masters."

"Oh?" Mace leaned forward curiously. "The boy does not exist?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, not that. The boy does indeed exist, Masters. His name is Anakin Skywalker. He and his mother live in the slave quarter in the port of Mos Espa." He paused as Micah and Mace exchanged surprised looks. Yoda didn't look surprised. He seemed to have expected this, and given his strange new relationship with Obi-Wan, that didn't surprise Qui-Gon at all. "His presence in the Force is? astounding, Masters. It's like a bonfire set against a candle flame."

"That strong, is he?" Micah asked. "But then, if his midichlorian count is as Obi-Wan claimed, that is not so strange. Have you taken a count yet, Master Jinn?"

"I'm running it now," Qui-Gon replied, even as the machine beeped to announce the results. He glanced up at the monitor, eyes going wide despite his expectations. "It's? as Obi-Wan told us. The results are off the chart." He sharpened his focus. "Twenty-three thousand, if the equipment is functioning correctly."

Mace whistled. "We'll test a new sample when you bring him to the Temple. He'll have to spend some time with the Healers, anyway, growing up where he did."

Yoda tilted his head. "A complication you mentioned, Master Qui-Gon."

"Yes." Qui-Gon folded his hands in his lap. "Masters? Anakin knew us."

"Knew you?" Micah immediately sat up in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"It appears that Anakin and Obi-Wan had the same experience, Masters. Anakin knew both of us on sight, and it seems that they both have similar memories. The boy has admitted that he doesn't remember everything, however. Obi-Wan is thankful for that, and so am I. He is only five years old? he should have the chance to grow up on his own."

"Are you sure?" Mace asked, his dark eyes narrowed in concern. "Is there any way to verify this?"

"I've been speaking with the boy's mother. As close as we can estimate, Anakin lost consciousness from a local illness at almost the same moment that Obi-Wan did, when he was struck down on Taro Tre. They were both out for the same amount of time, and they seem to have awoken at the same moment as well." It was hard to judge on that one; he and Mace had found Obi-Wan already awake, and Obi-Wan himself had no clear idea of how long he had been standing at the window.

The Council was silent. Mace and Micah looked pensive, though Micah's expression was mixed with a bit of elation -- the man had always loved a challenging situation. But Yoda's gaze was something Qui-Gon could only describe as? brooding. That was the most shocking thing, to Qui-Gon. Master Yoda, teacher of younglings, wisest of Jedi, did not brood.

Finally the old Master shook his head, tapping his clawed fingers on the gimer stick resting in his lap. "Bring him to us, you must. Secure his freedom yet, have you?"

"No, Masters," Qui-Gon shook his head. "It was late in the day when we arrived. Obi-Wan has plans to approach their owner tomorrow."

Yoda nodded. "Retrieve him, you must. Important this is. Linked, they are." He hummed a few notes, sounds that spoke of the Master's state of mind. "Feel it, you do?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. It had been obvious almost from the beginning that Anakin must have been the Padawan that Obi-Wan spoke of. But why had Obi-Wan taken this boy as his Learner so soon after being Knighted? There were many capable Knights and Masters that could have trained Anakin, himself included. Why had the Council agreed to his training in the first place? Anakin certainly had been much older than he was now, and even at this age the Council would be leery of accepting the boy into the creche.

And why, Qui-Gon wondered as he closed down the comm, did Obi-Wan make such a promise in the first place?

When he returned to the Skywalker home later, he found Obi-Wan in a puddle on the floor, gasping for breath and red in the face, with a triumphant Anakin sitting on top of him. "He was getting all broody," Anakin explained cheerily, poking the downed young Knight in the ribs.

"Was? not!" Obi-Wan gasped out. Then he laughed as Anakin tickled him, trying to wriggle out of the little boy's grasp. "Please, no more! I beg you!"

"Promise not to brood?" Anakin leaned over Obi-Wan challengingly.

"Promise!" Obi-Wan gasped. "No more brooding!"

Anakin grinned proudly as he let Obi-Wan up off the floor. "If I had known that would work so well, I would've done that years ago. I could have saved us all a lot of trouble."

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Very well. If you see me brood overly much, you have my permission to do something about it. As long as it doesn't interfere with my dignity."

"Right," Anakin nodded, while Qui-Gon tried very hard not to smile. "Not in public. Roger."

Dinner was a noisy affair, Anakin and Obi-Wan both over their initial shock. Anakin was enthused about their coming freedom, though Shmi still seemed mildly dazed that by this time tomorrow, she would be a free woman. "I've been a slave since I was four," she told her Jedi audience, passing Anakin a bowl of fruit once the meal itself had been devoured. "I don't know what I'll do with myself, really."

"Well, first you're coming to the Temple with Anakin," Obi-Wan pointed out, accepting the bowl from the boy and picking out a round orange fruit before passing the bowl to Qui-Gon. "We'll worry about the future when it gets here."

"I've never imagined such a thing," Shmi said quietly, peeling the skin off of a pebbly red fruit. "I've lived out on the Rim all of my life. Is Coruscant really like they say?"

"Nah," Anakin replied. He spread his hands. "It's a lot, lot bigger! I mean huge!"

Shmi stared at her son, who blushed and looked down at his empty plate. "You said? that the same thing happened to you," she said slowly, looking at Obi-Wan. "What happened, exactly?"

Obi-Wan shrugged, peeling off another sliver of orange fruit. "I don't know, Shmi. Not exactly. We lived our lives, but at the same time, we didn't. I've got scars now that I didn't have three weeks ago. I remember how they got there, but they shouldn't be there."

"Yeah," Anakin spoke up. "Me too." He pushed up the sleeve of his tunic, revealing a jagged white scar that ran up his left arm. "This one's from a pod race I was in," he explained, and Shmi went pale. He winced. "It hasn't happened yet, and I guess now it's not going to. But the scar's still there. There's more than this, lots of little things. And there's another big one up near my right shoulder. But I don't know what that is. Don't remember how I got it. It looks kinda like a burn."

Obi-Wan touched Anakin's right shoulder with his fingers, brushing against the roughly-woven cloth. "I remember how you got it. I'm glad that you don't." He shook his head and looked up at Qui-Gon. "What did the Council say earlier?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "They're very curious about Ani, and are probably racking their collective brains to try and explain how you both could have experienced the same thing. Of course, anyone with a midichlorian count of twenty-three thousand?" he trailed off, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. Not even Yoda's count was that high, and the ancient master's, at sixteen thousand, was one of the highest known. "It's an incredible thing. Who was his father?" he asked Shmi.

To his surprise, Shmi looked down at the table, knotting up a cloth napkin in her hands. "There was no father." She drew in a deep breath. "I carried him, I raised him. There has never been anything else for us."

It was a not-so-subtle way for Shmi to say that the father was completely inconsequential. Had she been raped? They had been owned by the Hutts at the time, Qui-Gon had learned, and that sort of thing wasn't exactly uncommon.

Or was it? Studying the woman before him, the Force murmured to him of other things, and Qui-Gon was not so sure.

He found Obi-Wan out on the balcony later that night, after Anakin had finally gone to bed. Whether the boy was sleeping or not was anybody's guess. Shmi herself had bid him goodnight a few moments ago, offering them space on the floor of the main room. Several rough but serviceable blankets had already been stacked nearby. "Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's back was to him as the young man knelt on the rough stone floor. His face was tilted up, a stray breeze ruffling his short hair and clothing. "I love it here at night," Obi-Wan said softly. "There are never clouds, and no traffic. You can see every single star. I could sit out at night for hours, no matter how cold it was, just watching them. I guess it became sort of a meditation; no matter how much things changed, some things would always be the same."

Moved to hear such things from the young man, Qui-Gon walked over and laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Was it a comfort?"

Obi-Wan blinked and looked up at him, the points of stars reflected in his eyes. "Sometimes. I usually managed to see it that way." He looked up again. "You can see Alderaan's sun from here. It's tiny, what with it being so far into the Core, but it's there." His eyes filled with a strange melancholy. "And then sometimes, things that you thought would always be there, are not."

He didn't know what to say to that, chilled as he was by the words. "Why didn't you mention the prophecy to the Council?"

Obi-Wan jerked visibly. "I thought you would figure that out," he said, chuckling ruefully. "It's not in your nature to look the obvious in the face and not see it."

Qui-Gon settled down cross-legged beside him. "I suppose not. But... he is the Chosen One, isn't he?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "The One who will bring balance."

Qui-Gon rested his hands on his knees, contemplating the stars as his companion was. "Did he?" He smiled when Obi-Wan gave him an odd look. "If you both lived out your lives in that vision, then at some point the prophecy must have been fulfilled."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I suppose it must have. But I don't think I ever quite figured out what the prophecy really meant. There were so many things that 'balance' could have applied to. And there is a reason I did not tell the Council."

"I would very much like to hear it," Qui-Gon said. "If you feel you can tell me."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time. "The Council reacted? very strongly to Anakin's presence, and to the thought that he might be an ancient prophecy brought before them. They frightened Anakin when they tested him - unnecessarily, I always felt. But they were themselves afraid, and I think it tainted everything that ever happened to us."

Qui-Gon absorbed this quietly. It made sense. Too much sense, really. He was well aware of how tradition-bound the Council could be, clinging to narrow interpretations of the Code even when it flew in the face of all good sense. "So you feel that we should not tell them?"

"If they're half the Jedi I believe them to be, they will figure it out for themselves." Obi-Wan smiled when Qui-Gon chuckled. "It may be better that way. Give them time to adjust to the idea, and maybe Anakin won't suffer for it."

"You're very protective of him," Qui-Gon observed.

Obi-Wan swallowed painfully before speaking. "Anakin had? a very difficult life. You have no idea how grateful I am that he remembers so little of it. I truly do hope that he never remembers everything. It would be a terrible burden." Obi-Wan looked down at his clasped hands, sighing a little. "The Force has given him a second chance, and I mean to see that he has opportunity to see it through. I just want him to be happy."

"And what about you?" Qui-Gon asked, laying his hand over Obi-Wan's for a moment. "Anakin is not the only one with a second chance. Will you take advantage of it as well?"

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes full of starlight as he looked at Qui-Gon. "I already am."

They met with Watto the next morning, an overweight blue Toydarian with calculating eyes and stubble on his chin. "What do you want?" he snapped in Huttese, not even bothering with the barest of pleasantries.

"Good morning, Watto," Obi-Wan replied pleasantly in the same tongue, letting his cloak fall open to reveal the lightsaber at his belt. "I have a business proposition for you."

"Business, eh?" Watto's eyes widened as he took in the lightsaber. His wings flapped a little more furiously as he gained height, giving Qui-Gon a cursory inspection. Qui-Gon said nothing, merely rested his hands on his hips, the motion betraying the presence of his own lightsaber. Obi-Wan had asked him to follow his lead, and this he would do. It was bound to be interesting.

"So," Watto said, crossing his arms over his round belly. "What brings Jedi to my store? I hope you're not expecting a special deal. This isn't the Republic, you know."

"We know," Obi-Wan replied, the funny half-smile that amused and annoyed Qui-Gon by turns making a brief appearance. "This is about the Skywalker family."

Watto actually looked alarmed. "Did they send you here? Are they saying I'm not good to them? I am, you know. I don't hurt them. I even like them! Little Ani is a good kid. For a human, anyway," he amended.

"I know you don't hurt them. You're certainly a sight better than the Hutts. As it stands, they're rather fond of you, as well," Obi-Wan soothed the Toydarian. Qui-Gon could only watch and be grateful that the Council had seen fit to Knight Obi-Wan. This was a Knight he stood with, strong in the Force and a master of tact, besides. "We're here because we wish to help them."

The alarm faded, and the calculating look was back. "You're here on Search? You can't find Force brats elsewhere, you've got to come out here and snatch up my hard-earned property?" He snorted. "No way, Jedi. You think I'm just going to hand over that boy to you?"

"Of course not," Obi-Wan said, crossing his own arms to mirror the other's pose. "But would you have something against a proper transaction?"

Qui-Gon hid a grin. He could see the signs: Watto was already hooked, and his Padawan was merely reeling him in. It was simple yet elegant, and if Obi-Wan handled an irate slave owner with this much aplomb, he couldn't wait to see the young man in action, facing off against seasoned diplomats over a negotiation table.

I look forward to it.

The voice in his mind was so soft that Qui-Gon almost missed it. Obi-Wan?!

The bond may be gone, Master, Obi-Wan replied, his voice still just as quiet. It was not pitched that way on purpose, Qui-Gon realized abruptly. It was from disuse. But I? can still hear you, a little bit. Vaguely, rather like an echo. I missed it.

As did I, Obi-Wan.

Watto, meanwhile, was staring at Obi-Wan suspiciously. "You want to buy the boy?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "And his mother. I don't want to separate a family. You would agree, I'm sure. I have been told that Toydarians hold family in great esteem."

Watto moved a little away from them, frowning thunderously. "I haven't been getting much work out of them lately. What with the boy being sick, and his mother staying with him... Still, it would take a lot for me to consider parting with them, Jedi. They're a great help to me. I would have to replace them somehow."

If Obi-Wan felt any anger over the thought of Watto using the money to buy more slaves, he hid it well. "We understand. If you could name a price that you think would be sufficient?"

"Republic credits are no good here, Jedi. I need something real!" Watto smiled, radiating a satisfaction that he had them outsmarted.

Obi-Wan merely reached into his belt pouch, holding up a fifty-count of Cho-Mar, a currency the Hutts had spread through most of the Outer Rim systems. "This will be fine, I'm sure."

"Hmmm." Watto grumbled under his breath for a few minutes. Then he practically glared at Obi-Wan. "Eighty thousand."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to comply; the Council had given them ninety, at Obi-Wan's request. But Obi-Wan beat him to it. "That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "A woman almost past childbearing age and a five year old boy? Fifty thousand."

Watto's eyes widened. Apparently he had not expected the Jedi to barter. Then again, neither had Qui-Gon. "Damn Jedi, trying to break me! There's no way I'll accept that. Seventy-five!"

"Sixty."

"Seventy!" Watto roared, a brilliant effort from such a small species. "They're worth far more than that, Jedi! Take it or get out of my shop!"

Obi-Wan smiled. "Deal."

Watto opened his mouth and then snapped it closed. "Deal?"

"That is what I said, yes." Obi-Wan offered his hand, palm up. Watto regarded it, then smacked Obi-Wan's hand with his own. "Deal, Jedi." He flapped closer, almost nose to nose with Obi-Wan. "You're going to take care of them, right? I know you want the boy, but you're going to be good to them both. You hear me?"

Obi-Wan met the Toydarian's gaze squarely. "I have already sworn to do everything in my power to keep them both safe."

Watto nodded sharply. "Good enough."

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon stepped out into the courtyard, looking around. The young man was sitting on the bench, robe draped across his lap. He glanced up as Qui-Gon approached, smiling a little. "They're finished packing up. Shmi and Anakin are ready to leave whenever we are."

"So I'm the only straggler," Obi-Wan replied. He reached out, tugging on Qui-Gon's hand until the elder man obeyed the silent instruction and sat down on the bench beside him. "Thank you for coming here with me, Master."

"It was the least I could do," Qui-Gon protested mildly. "Though you hardly needed my help."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I? Qui-Gon, you helped me more than you realize. I'm grateful to you."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply and instead found himself asking a question. "What's going to happen to Micah?"

Obi-Wan sat up straighter, frowning. "Force, are things happening so soon?" He shook his head. "How did you know?"

"I felt something during the Council meeting that seemed to center around him." Qui-Gon sighed; foresight was not a strength of his, and rarely did the Force speak so strongly to him about things that might yet be. "Are we going to lose him?"

"No," Obi-Wan replied firmly, jaw set. "We're not going to lose any of them." His expression softened. "I meant what I said, Master. If there is any way to keep things from happening as they did, I will do everything I can to make it so." He stirred the sand at his feet with the toe of his boot. "I'd like to show you something."

Before Qui-Gon could say anything, the sand began to shift, moved by unseen hands. He watched, fascinated, as patterns began to appear, crossing the ground in an intricate web.

Obi-Wan grinned at Qui-Gon's rapt expression. "Watch," he whispered, still holding Qui-Gon's hand. "Feel."

The sand rose into the air, not in a solid mass, but grain by individual grain. The quartz-based sand caught the rays of the afternoon sun, reflecting white light, looking almost like stars. Indeed, that was what Obi-Wan had done, Qui-Gon realized, recognizing the patterns for what they were -- the constellations in Tatooine's night sky. And he could feel it, the Living Force identifying each individual grain even as it bound them together as part of the greater whole.

Obi-Wan tilted his head to one side consideringly, and the grains of sand floated closer together, slowly coalescing into the likeness of a DNA helix. The image was fluid, constantly moving as the sand flowed along under Obi-Wan's control.

"That's beautiful," Shmi whispered. Qui-Gon turned to find her and Anakin standing in the doorway, both of them staring at the incredible display.

"Wizard," Anakin agreed, his eyes round as he watched the helix shimmer in the light. "Am I gonna learn how to do that again?"

Obi-Wan smiled and slowly released his hold on the sand, letting it fall. "I'm certain you will."

"Come on, Mom!" Anakin yelled happily, taking his mother's hand and practically dragging her down the boarding ramp. "You've got to see this!"

Shmi turned just long enough to give Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon a bewildered smile before allowing her son to drag her along. "Ani, I'm sure it's wonderful, but it's not going... any... where." Her voice trailed off into stunned silence as they listened.

Obi-Wan grinned as Anakin spoke up cheerfully. "Isn't it great?"

They stepped off the ship's ramp to find Anakin hugging his mother, who was staring, wide-eyed, at the cityscape before them. "I'm glad to see that adjustment to Coruscant isn't going to be a problem for Anakin," Qui-Gon murmured softly.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It never was. He loved the place from the first moment he saw it. Never looked at Coruscant the way most people do, as someplace horrid. I... " he stopped speaking, lasping into silence. Qui-Gon regretted the uncomfortable tension that grew between them, but could think of no way to break through it.

Micah Giett was waiting for them on the landing platform, as was Yoda. The human master was hiding a grin at the way the little boy was escorting his mother along. "Lady Skywalker, welcome to Coruscant," he said, giving Anakin's mother a graceful bow. "I am Master Giett, and my companion is Master Yoda." Yoda nodded to Shmi, smiling warmly at her. "Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi tell us that you are... between homes at the moment," he said diplomatically. "You are welcome to stay with the Jedi until a new solution presents itself, of course." Shmi nodded faintly, unsure of how to respond. Micah gave her a gentle, knowing smile and turned to the boy. "And you must be Anakin."

Anakin gave the Master a quizzical look. "I don't remember you."

"Ani!" Shmi found her voice, scolding Anakin for the strange greeting.

Micah merely shrugged. "Well, I suppose we shall have to remedy that. I serve on the Council, young Skywalker."

Anakin nodded. "Okay. Pleased to meet you, sir," he said, offering his hand. Micah, still hiding his amusement, shook the tiny hand solemnly. Then Anakin turned to Yoda, grinning. "You I remember." And then Anakin, to the tiny Master's wide-eyed astonishment, hugged him enthusiastically.

"Well!" Yoda said, ears practically flying up in surprise. "Warm-heartened youngling you are, to hug an old Master so." He chuckled, touching the intricately-beaded necklace hanging around Anakin's neck. "Welcome home, young Skywalker." Only Qui-Gon noticed when Obi-Wan glanced sharply away at that, wiping swiftly at his eyes with his fingers.

"And I hate to make it sound like an unpleasant welcome, but our first stop will be the Healers," Micah said, leading them all back into the Temple proper.

"Yuck," was Anakin's response.