Summary: Following the events of After Bandomeer, Obi-Wan
adjusts to being a padawan. This story accepts JA 1-4 as
canonical, and then diverges from the series; Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan return to Coruscant immediately after JA4, and JA5-6
didn't happen. (Hey, I started the story before they came out,
okay?)
Author's Note: The After Bandomeer stories are appearing to me
completely out of order, the naughty little things... The
sequence as currently envisioned:
After Bandomeer (in MA archives)
Returning a Padawan <---- you are here
Padawan Kisses (in MA archives)
Master Attachments (planned)
Sleeping Arrangements (in MA archives)
Obi-Wan stood beside his Master and tried to disguise his
excitement. Only rigid self-control kept him from bouncing on
the balls of his feet; he didn't want to embarass his Master by
appearing uncouth or anything. But it was so hard to maintain
the kind of quiet calm that characterized Qui-Gon Jinn.
He stole a glance at his Master, wondering if he'd ever be able
to at least fake that kind of serenity, if not actually attain
it. And as usual, he felt an almost physical surge of pride as
he looked at his Master; he was the most mysterious, legendary,
practically mythical of all the Jedi Masters, and he had
selected Obi-Wan to be his Padawan.
And this was at the crux of Obi-Wan's excitement. Because they
were about to set foot on Coruscant again, for the first time
since Obi-Wan had attained the coveted rank; Coruscant, that
he'd left months ago to become a farmer. Well, not a farmer,
really, a Jedi member of the AgriCorp, where he would have been
employed using his Force-skills and sensitivities to make
things grow. But however worthy a calling, it wasn't in the
same category as Jedi Knight, it just wasn't.
And it had appeared that Obi-Wan wasn't going to be given a
chance to be a knight. Because once an initiate had passed his
thirteenth birthday, he was considered too old to become a
knight's padawan, the apprenticeship phase of a knight's
training. He'd been sent off to Bandomeer a few weeks short of
his thirteenth birthday; only the accident of Qui-Gon's having
been sent to Bandomeer as well, and their joining forces during
difficulties on the trip had resulted in Qui-Gon accepting him
as a knight in training.
He couldn't help but contrast his leaving from his return.
Then, he'd been so humiliated, so disappointed, he didn't even
want to say goodbye to his friends. Now, he could hardly wait
to see them again. The hardest trial he was going to face in
the near term was to refrain from gloating. But he knew he'd do
it - he didn't want to do anything that would bring possible
discredit to his new Master.
Qui-Gon Jinn didn't look at the new apprentice standing at his
side - he didn't need to. Excitement was pouring off the boy in
waves. He suppressed a smile. He knew when he'd yielded to the
inevitable and allowed the boy to attach himself to him that
he'd radically altered his own life. Yet somehow he had the
suspicion that he wasn't going to regret it much. He doubted
he'd have the time for regrets, not with this one around.
As the two Jedi rode the lift in the Masters' Quarters Tower,
it suddenly dawned on Obi-Wan that he would not be living in
his old room in the Initiates' dorms. For some reason, when he
thought about being back on Coruscant, he pictured himself back
in his cramped and messy room that he shared with two other
initiates. But Padawans lived in their Masters' quarters.
He began to worry; what if his Master liked living alone? What
if he resented having to have Obi-Wan around all the time?
Obi-Wan thought that if he were a knight, he'd hate having some
kid constantly underfoot. Why hadn't he considered this before?
He really hadn't quite grasped what all he was asking when he
begged Qui-Gon to take him on.
Qui-Gon glanced at his suddenly-quelled apprentice and asked,
"Is something the matter, Obi-Wan?"
"Just... trying to memorize the way here," Obi-Wan invented.
"So I don't get lost too many times... I'm used to the
initiates' dorms. This is laid out differently." Kenobi, you're
babbling, he told himself sternly.
"Most people find the initiates' dorms to be more labryinthine;
they're in much the older part of the Temple. The Masters'
Tower is stark simplicity, comparatively. Much newer, by
hundreds of years, and frankly, not as interesting, in my
opinion," Qui-Gon turned down a shorter corridor. "But here we
are."
Obi-Wan stood looking at the tall doorway, stunned for a moment
by a brass plaque that spelled out "Jinn/Kenobi." Now that, he
hadn't expected. He touched his name. "My name... it's already
got my name..."
"Ah, good," Qui-Gon remarked as if it were the most natural
thing in the world, and maybe it was. "I see the concierge is
operating at his usual efficiency." He put his palm on the
palm-reader beside the door, then spoke as the door clicked
opened, "Second keyholder."
A synthetic voice asked: "Name of keyholder?"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon said in a firm voice, giving Obi-Wan
a ghost of a wink.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," the odd voice said. "Place palm on palm
reader and state your name for secondary identification."
Obi-Wan's eyes had been growing rounder as this ritual was
being played out. He jumped when addressed by the wall, and
hurried to put his hand where Qui-Gon had earlier placed his.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he told the wall in a slightly shaky voice.
"Second keyholder acquired," the wall said, and the door
clicked. Qui-Gon pushed it opened and gestured Obi-Wan to
precede him with a small 'after-you' wave.
Obi-Wan walked into the center of the room thus accessed,
turning around and gaping; to his dorm-raised eyes, it seemed
enormous, especially with the floor-to-ceiling windows looking
out over the city. Qui-Gon followed, looking around with
dissatisfaction. "Hm. Rather... sterile, isn't it?" he
remarked. "I'm afraid it's been pretty much used as transient
quarters these past few years. I'd be surprised to discover I'd
been in-temple more than a hundred days in the last three
years."
He moved through the common area, and opened doors into the
small kitchen, the padawan's quarters (much more reasonably
sized, Obi-Wan thought) and his own chambers. The master's
quarters in these suites were all along the outer-rim of the
tower with the common rooms, so that they also had the
advantage of a wall of windows, but Obi-Wan noticed that
Qui-Gon's windows had been filtered to their darkest setting,
so that they looked like opaque black glass.
"Well, we'll have to see about getting some things in to make
this place look more livable," Qui-Gon told his apprentice.
"I'll show you how to access the quartermaster's program this
evening. If we're going to be on Coruscant for more extended
periods, I think we deserve a nice place to come home to."
Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure what his master was suggesting. "You
mean, you're not going to be going on missions anymore?"
"Of course I'll be going on missions - or rather, we will. The
council will surely see to that," Qui-Gon smiled. "I will not,
however, be expected to go on the back-to-back marathons I've
been pulling; not with a padawan to train."
"But I didn't want you to have to completely change your life
around, just because of me," Obi-Wan was dismayed. "No wonder
you didn't want to take an apprentice..."
Qui-Gon silenced him with a raised hand. "I wouldn't have
attached an apprentice if I wasn't willing to ensure that he
got the best training I could give him. And that means spending
some time in-temple, to take advantage of the specialized
training only available here. And you need to keep up with your
friends, and the Jedi community." Here Qui-Gon placed his hand
gently on the face of his puzzled apprentice, stroking his
cheekbone with a large thumb. "Value yourself a little more, my
Obi-Wan. You deserve more than perhaps you think."
Obi-Wan flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. He still felt
a little awkward at forcing such a change in his master's life,
but it was clear that his master didn't want him to feel bad
about it, so he'd stop. He would.
"Where does all our stuff go?" he asked, as the server droids
rolled into the room with their boxes and bags. Qui-Gon
directed the droids to the right rooms, then returned to the
conversation.
"Tomorrow afternoon we brief the council... of course they
wanted to hear from us the moment we arrived, but I told them
they could wait until we'd rested from our journey..." Qui-Gon
went on.
"WE brief the council?" Obi-Wan was rather startled.
"Of course, WE," Qui-Gon smiled. "You were an integral and
valuable part of our missions, Padawan. It was you who
discovered the Queen's betrayer, who first noticed she was
being poisoned. Of course they'll want to hear from you on it."
"But shouldn't we appear now, if they want us to?"
"They know all the pertinent information, Obi-Wan. They have
already received our reports that we sent from aboard ship. The
in-person briefing is really to satisfy their rather childlike
curiosity. Does Master Jinn look like a pirate yet?... I swear,
Ki-Ali-Mundi keeps expecting me to return from my travels with
a gold hoop in one ear, and someday I'm going to just to make
him feel better... Does his new padawan have the haggard and
desperate look appropriate to an apprentice bound to a mad man?
Should we rescue the poor lad?..."
Obi-Wan was forced to laugh. "Oh stop it! You shouldn't make
fun of them; you'll get me all used to it, and I'll say
something sarcastic about the council in public someday and
disgrace myself. AND you."
"You're quite right, Padawan," Qui-Gon acknowledged ruefully.
"Suffice it to say that those remarks were for your ears only.
But at least I finally got to see you laugh."
"So." Qui-Gon resumed his outline. "Council briefing tomorrow
after prime. So perhaps we should schedule a 'saber-court for
the morning?" Obi-Wan's eager nod set that agenda item. "This
evening we'll plan your training further. Now, there's still a
few hours before dinner. I suggest you race over to Padawan
Alley and check in with your friends. I'm going to the
meditation gardens and try to regain some of the calm these
last few missions have cost me."
"I'll be back before dinner," Obi-Wan promised, and with a
grateful look at his surprisingly understanding master, raced
out of the chambers with his robes swirling to find Bant and
Dabien.
Padawan Alley, as every Jedi knows, is a collection of rooms in
a lower level of the Initiates' Dorms, although you could
search a map or directory forever without locating any place
actually labelled as such. For as long as Jedi had occupied the
Temple compound, the younger Padawans had made it a tradition
to foregather there when back on Coruscant, to find out which
of their padawan friends were in-temple, and visit with their
friends still in the initiate ranks. After being a padawan for
several years, the need to check in at Padawan Alley gradually
lessened, as the young Jedi made friends in the knight ranks
and had access to more sophisticated communications media to
maintain contact with their circle. One rarely saw a padawan
older than sixteen or seventeen at Padawan Alley.
Obi-Wan's familiarity with Padawan Alley was based on visiting
with his friends who had attached to a master. Today would be
his very first visit as an actual Padawan. He hoped desperately
that some of his friends would be around.
Bant, now she wasn't attached yet, or wasn't when Obi-Wan had
left Coruscant. Several years younger than Obi-Wan, she still
had a few years of padawan-eligibility left. So she ought to be
around. And Dabien had found a master a few months before
Obi-Wan had; a rather important Jedi who was considered a
council candidate and was thought highly of in diplomatic
circles. Obi-Wan had been very jealous of Dabien when he had
left the initiates, and thought Dabien had been rather smug
about the whole thing, even rubbing it in a little bit that
Obi-Wan still was masterless and running out of eligibility.
But Obi-Wan wondered now if he'd only imagined his friend's
attitude as a symptom of his own deep disappointment.
Whatever the case, they were equals now. Maybe a little more
than equals, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel his own smug
satisfaction. Because there was no denying that however
important Master Vertha was, she just wasn't the legendary
figure that Qui-Gon Jinn was. Nice woman, and Obi-Wan liked
her, but she was a bureaucrat!
There were just a few of the older padawans hanging out near
the drinks dispenser when Obi-Wan arrived. He sent a message
droid to go find Bant for him, and went over to The Wall, where
padawans tended to post notes reporting on their doings, to see
if he could find a trace of Dabien.
He had only studied the wall for a few minutes before he heard
Bant's bubbling arrival; she was practically fizzing with
excitement. He turned and she was grabbing his arms, spinning
him around and laughing.
"Oooh, let me look at you," she said, her silver eyes gleaming.
"Our new hero - the whole place is buzzing about you and your
exploits." She towed Obi-Wan toward one of the tables as she
talked. "Tell me! Tell me everything! Tell about your new
master! Everyone is so jealous!"
Obi-Wan was rather at a loss at this; there was so much to
tell! "Where should I start?" he asked.
"Oh, with Qui-Gon, of course," Bant breathed. "What's he like?
Isn't he sort of intimidating?"
"No, he's not," Obi-Wan said indignantly, then backtracked.
"Well, maybe a little. I was just awfully shy around him at
first; you know how he is. So... so regal and serene and all.
But it's hard to stay intimidated ... especially after making a
mattress out of him." He giggled a little at the memory of the
trip to Gala, and the hard metal bench the two of them slept
on.
"A mattress?" Bant's eyes couldn't get any rounder; she was mon
calimari after all. So she settled for making an O with her
mouth.
"Never mind... just that the sleeping facilities on the road
are sometimes... minimal." Obi-Wan grinned. "I thought I'd be
scared of him, but I'm not. He sometimes says the most
outrageous things! Just to see what I'll do... And he's not
scary at all; he's funny, and he's kind." Obi-Wan blushed to
discover that his eyes were misting up at this.
Bant laughed at her friend. "You DO have it bad. But I'm sure
I'd be even worse in your shoes... he's just sooo handsome."
Obi-Wan was almost diverted by this - why a girl from a
sentient race of fish would find a human male attractive was a
question he very much wanted to ask. Sometime. He grinned. "I'm
in for years of hero-worship, I think," he confessed. "But it
could be worse - wouldn't it be awful to actually dislike one's
master?"
"I don't think that could happen," Bant said judiciously. "I
think you have to be compatible at some level for a training
bond to form. What's THAT like, by the way? It sounds so...
intrusive!"
"Oh, it isn't! It's just ... well, it's really handy, being
able to talk to someone across distance. And have them there
and answering you. It's very ... comforting." Obi-Wan was
afraid he was blushing again.
He quickly decided it was time to change the subject, before he
was forced to examine his feelings for his new master too
closely. "I didn't see anything from Dabien on the Wall; is he
off-planet?"
"No, he's around; he doesn't use the Wall much," Bant told him.
"He's pretty much always here. In fact..." She stopped for a
moment.
"What?"
"Well, his master's doing all this liaison stuff with the
senate lately. Very important, apparently, but it's all
hush-hush, and he hardly ever sees her, and she hardly ever
leaves Coruscant, and... well, everyone's been talking about
what you and your master have been up to, all over the galaxy
from the sound of it, and ... well, the long and short of it
is, he pretty much spits when your name comes up now." Obi-Wan
looked rather shocked and hurt. "I just thought I ought to warn
you. In case you run into him and he's rude to you. It isn't
you, really. He's just so bored and jealous he can hardly stand
it."
"Poor guy!" Obi-Wan tried to picture Qui-Gon dashing off to
meetings and ignoring his padawan, and failed miserably. The
very idea of Qui-Gon in meetings was enough to make his
apprentice smile.
"You're thinking about your master again," Bant said sagely.
"You're getting that fuzzy look in your eyes."
"I do NOT look fuzzy," Obi-Wan objected.
"You do," Bant teased.
"Okay, so I look fuzzy. It's just... Oh, Bant, he's exactly
like ... like Bre C'brah!"
At this comparison of the venerable Jedi Master to a holo-drama
hero, Bant could no longer restrain her gurgling laughter. This
drew the attention of the others in the Alley, and their table
was soon surrounded with curious padawans and initiates, all
pelting Obi-Wan with questions.
Obi-Wan was hurrying; fearing he would miss his Master and have
to walk in to the vast dining hall alone, he picked up speed
and broke into a trot, earning an amused glance from a pair of
passing masters. Padawans racing through the hallway of the
Masters Tower weren't a completely novel sight, but Obi-Wan
certainly was, and the two spared a moment from their
conversation to comment on Master Jinn's new apprentice. Their
comments were inaudible to Obi-Wan, but that didn't embarrass
him any less, as he turned the corner and made for the door
marked with his name.
He still couldn't help a momentary feeling of pride at the look
of it, there in brass - "Jinn/Kenobi"... that looked so
professional, so permanent.
The door meekly opened to his palm, and he trotted into the
common room, where Qui-Gon was just putting down a datapad.
"Ah, there you are, Padawan. I was just wondering if I would
have to summon you." Qui-Gon smiled at him.
"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said. "I lost track of time. It
won't happen again."
"Never fear, Padawan. If I ever need you to attend me
immediately, I can certainly let you know it." At this point,
Qui-Gon merely loooked at Obi-Wan, who heard 'Padawan, return
to our quarters at ONCE' in Qui-Gon's voice. The stern-ness of
the mental order were at such marked variance to the mild
expression of the man sitting before him that Obi-Wan was
forced to laugh.
"I keep forgetting that. Actually, I was afraid you'd go
without me, and I'd never find you in the hall," Obi-Wan
confessed. "But what I was hearing at Padawan Alley was really
funny - you wouldn't believe the kinds of TALES they're telling
about us. Like we were old-empire heros or something."
"Well, I hope you didn't debunk them all, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
said as he rose and put on his robes preparatory to leaving the
chambers. "It's always useful to have a few myths in
circulation about one. Keeps the competition guessing."
The two left their rooms and begin walking toward the main
eating facility of the Temple.
"I understand that some Padawans arrange to meet their friends
at a particular meal whenever possible; I've seen the Padawan
groups at all servings, and have no objection if you wish to
join one of them," Qui-Gon told his apprentice, as they
continued.
Obi-Wan stopped, forcing Qui-Gon to stop and look back at him.
He put his hands on his hips and said, "You know, if you were
less accomodating, I would have an easier time figuring out
what to do. Can't you just bark out an order sometimes? I have
no idea whether you're just being nice, or gently hinting that
you'd like one meal a day with your own cronies."
"My CRONIES?" Qui-Gon put an arm around Obi-Wan to get him
moving forward again, and Obi-Wan's first entrace as a Padawan
into the Jedi main dining hall was accomplished with his
Master's arm around him. "I guess I must not have 'cronies' per
se, Padawan, since any of my friends that I'd care to dine with
would certainly not look down their noses at dining with my
apprentice as well."
Having to feed thousands wasn't easy, and the facilities were
quite spread out, but within one's own assigned seating area in
the hall, it managed to present as cozy and welcoming an
appearance as was possible under the circumstances. Qui-Gon
quickly found the two of them seats at a table with several
other Masters (two of them with their apprentices, Obi-Wan was
glad to note), and the pair gave their orders to the serving
droids. While waiting for their food, Qui-Gon introduced
Obi-Wan to those at the table, and conversation became general.
Obi-Wan was amused to see, as he ate and watched the
interactions around him, that the Masters were no more immune
to the legends than the Padawans of the Alley were, and soon
Qui-Gon was having to explain that while indeed, he did leap
onto the back of a draigon and coerce it to take him where he
wanted to go, it really wasn't that extraordinary a feat, since
anyone with sufficient mind-control skills could persuade one
of those small-brained reptiles to follow orders.
Their first night back on Coruscant. Obi-Wan didn't quite feel
'moved in' yet, but Qui-Gon was certainly going out of his way
to make him feel like the quarters they were going to share
were his as well.
After dinner, they had spent at least an hour cruising through
the quartermaster's offerings online, arguing good-naturedly
about the various furnishings that would be required to make
the apartments more livable. Qui-Gon had a natural distrust of
wall-hangings, and Obi-Wan thought they made a place look
'lived in'; Qui-Gon had compromised by allowing Obi-Wan to make
his own room look as tentlike as he wished, and even went so
far as to accept that one small tapestry in the main room
wouldn't be large enough to hide an assassin or tempt a kitten
to climb, should a kitten ever find its way into their
quarters.
Qui-Gon cautioned Obi-Wan not to fill up the spaces with things
available on Coruscant, since that would not leave room for the
more exotic offerings from the worlds they would be visiting on
their travels. Obi-Wan instantly feared he'd gone too far in
trying to rearrange his master's spaces, and offered at once to
give up the tapestry, but Qui-Gon just laughed at him and went
ahead and submitted the order.
Yet another hour was spent in laying out a curriculum for
Obi-Wan, who felt it was far too heavily weighted with politics
and history, and did not include enough of the more martial
arts, but Qui-Gon, in this at least, was adamant. "Jedi use
their minds much more than they use their bodies, Obi-Wan," he
said. "Diplomacy is as much a tool of our trade as our
light-sabers, and much more difficult a skill to acquire,
taking years of experience. And diplomacy is built on a
knowledge of history." Obi-Wan just nodded dolefully. "I really
don't think you'll find yourself growing rusty with a blade,
Padawan," Qui-Gon told him. "If you are not worked until your
muscles scream in protest at least three times a week, I'll be
very much surprised."
Now it was night, yet still too early to retire. It was the
time of night when Qui-Gon usually settled down with an
undemanding novel to quiet his mind from the day's activities.
But somehow he didn't think his library would contain anything
that would appeal to a thirteen year old...
Inspiration dawned. "Obi-Wan, you might like to investigate
that cabinet by the holovid unit," he suggested, and Obi-Wan
was immediately on the floor pulling out quantities of rather
dated vids.
"Tales of the Old Empire!" he exclaimed. "And you've got the
whole set! I've only seen about a third of them!"
"Guilty pleasures, Padawan," Qui-Gon told him. "... No need to
tell the whole world about your master's tastes in
entertainment?"
"Oh, I've GOT to tell Bant," Obi-Wan told him. "She'll have to
see these! We played Old Empire for hours and hours right
before I was... sent off." Obi-Wan was inserting the series
premiere in the projector and settling down on the floor. "I'll
have to swear her to secrecy, though, or we'll have the whole
Initiates' Dorm over here."
"Please, Padawan, extract from her a blood oath, if you would,"
Qui-Gon told him, smiling. "I'm prepared to entertain young
Bant, but I really draw the line at the entire initiates'
class."
Qui-Gon soon discovered his novel wasn't holding his attention
like he had expected it to; and it was supposed to be such a
thriller, too. His attention kept straying to the melodrama
being enacted across the room, and his enthralled apprentice.
"I had such a crush on Bre C'Brah when I was your age," he
confided to Obi-Wan, who turned and gaped at him, then choked
with laughter.
"No, really, Master," Obi-Wan said, as he observed his master
preparing to take mock-offense. "It's just funny in
*context*... I told Bant just this afternoon that you remind me
of C'Brah..." Obi-Wan was laughing helplessly again.
"Well, Force sweep me away," Qui-Gon murmured ruefully. "I've
grown up to be my own childhood hero."
Mace Windu walked down the observation hall above the
sabercourts. He paused whenever light in the various
observation rooms indicated that the court beneath was
occupied, and took a quick look to see what was happening in
that court. He was taking advantage of some unexpected free
time to attempt to work in a saber drill, but had been too late
to get his name up on the roster looking for a sparring
partner, so now he was looking for a melee in progress that he
could join.
It was mid-morning, and most of the occupied courts were being
used by masters training their padawans, or classes for
initiates. A new knight was having a private lesson with Master
Lingtus; Mace gave them a brief moment's observation, then went
on. He had been considering private lessons for some time; he'd
been a knight for over a decade, and skills rust. But Master
Lingtus didn't appear to possess the fire that Mace would
expect in an instructor, so he gave up the idea.
He glanced at a lesson in progress in a court further down the
hallway, and was about to turn away when something caused him
to turn back. He stared again at the scene below - a Master
with a lightsaber in each hand, easily defending himself
against the determined, but uncoordinated attack of two ...
initiates? Padawans?
He took a closer look - the Master almost looked like... Mace
was shocked to discover that he had not recognized his old
Master. And the two youngsters he was 'fighting'? The
Calamarian girl was not wearing the badge of padawanhood, but
the boy was sporting a short padawan-braid. So this must be the
much-discussed new Padawan. But what could have made him think
that the man sparring with the two children was a stranger to
him? A moment's thought and he realized that his former Master
was laughing. So his subconcious had dismissed the possibility
that this was the man that hadn't been seen to laugh for the
past five years, and he had accepted that the master bore some
passing resemblance to Qui-Gon and had almost gone on.
He watched the scene below with growing fascination. The boy
was an attractive, if somewhat-gawky youth, and clearly a very
eager pupil of the lightsaber. The girl was less adept, and the
two of them got in each other's way as much as they assisted
one another. After another few moments, Qui-Gon brought the two
lightsabers, his own and a borrowed one, together in a sizzling
cross, and called, "Time out, time out, you foolish things,"
and herded his students to the corner for a lecture in working
together and executing a plan.
Mace took the opportunity to race down the stairs so he could
watch the lesson progress from the ground, entering the court
from the far end just as the Obi-Wan and Bant launched their
new attack against Qui-Gon. He sat at the judging table and
gave himself over to the role the seat inspired in him, judging
the swordplay he was watching. This time, the two attackers
were much better coordinated, but they still could not prevent
Qui-Gon from managing to escape them and gain the relative
safety of a corner of the arena.
"Now," Qui-Gon said. "I can stand here and defend against the
two of you all day."
"I told you to get behind him," the boy complained
good-naturedly to the girl.
"I tried! He's just too fast!" Bant was abashed. She was still
not quite over the awe of sparring with the legendary Qui-Gon
Jinn.
"Now, you see, the situation is a standoff," Qui-Gon lectured,
"and the outcome will be determined by whose reinforcements
arrive first. And since I see mine has already ridden to my
rescue, I claim a win," and at this, he powered off his sabers,
to the disappointment of his students, and went over to greet
Mace.
The pair cheered up moments later when Qui-Gon returned to
them, followed by Mace, to say, "Knight Windu here is
apparently spoiling for a fight. You think we could give him
one?" and Bant found herself partnered with the second-best
swordsman on Coruscant as they battled the first-best, and her
own best friend.
But her cup, filled to the brim, had yet to overflow. This was
remedied when, after their inglorious defeat, Knight Windu
asked her if she'd like to spar with him on the following day,
that perhaps he had a thing or two to show her that could help
them defeat this obnoxious pair. She could barely speak her
assent, and had to simply content herself with nodding
vigorously, visions of her future as a renowned swordsman
already dancing in her head.
That evening, Qui-Gon found himself relaxing in Mace Windu's
suite, looking back on an unusually pleasant day. After the
saber-drills, which was rather more fun than such things
normally are, he and his Padawan had briefed the Council on
their latest mission, took some questions about prior missions
that they had not been able to address at the time, and
accepted the Council's belated blessing on their
master-apprentice bond. Yoda, in particular, seemed more
cryptic and enigmatic than usual, which Qui-Gon recognized was
his old master's way of dealing with his pleasure that Qui-Gon
had finally seen the rightness of his old master's
recommendations.
Now, after dinner, Qui-Gon had seen his padawan ensconced, with
Bant, in front of the holo-vid planning a marathon of thrills,
and strolled over to renew his ties with his first padawan,
well met after months of silence.
Mace dug out the bottle of Debrian brandy he only offered to
his favorite people on special occasions, and listened. He was
surprised, but delighted, at the stories Qui-Gon told him of
his adventures with his new apprentice; this boy was clearly
someone quite outside the ordinary, and possibly worthy of
being the apprentice to Mace's adored former master. And it
would take someone special indeed to bring back the Qui-Gon of
former days, before his heart had been broken and his soul
shuttered by the betrayal of his second apprentice.
Qui-Gon had quickly given Mace an update of all the missions he
had just undertaken with his new padawan, and now was going
back to one particular event; the incidents involving Xanatos
on Bandomeer.
Mace had been surprised at the revelation that Xanatos was
still around and up to no good, and was very impressed at
Qui-Gon's report of his young padawan's bravery and
resourcefulness. But there was something... something about the
events that he had not yet revealed.
Finally Qui-Gon sighed and said, "He would have died for me
there in the mines, Mace. I still can't quite deal with that."
"Deal with it? What do you mean?" Mace was puzzled.
"I suppose I mean I can't accept it - don't feel worthy of it."
Qui-Gon was brooding now. After a pause, he amplified, "I had
rejected him in every possible way - I'd even told him he
wasn't knight-material; that his anger was too great, that he
should accept a lesser role in the Order. I didn't trust myself
to train him."
"Did you think... after Xanatos, I suppose, you thought he
might turn to the dark as well," Mace mused.
"NO! I did not. Never for an instant - that boy is pure light,
Mace. Anyone with half an eye can see that." Qui-Gon was
vehement. "I was lying - lying to myself more than to him. And
in spite of that, he was still willing to die for me. It shames
me."
Mace poured more brandy, and tried to project sympathetic
curiosity. "But you did finally admit he merited knight's
training; he is, after all, now your padawan," he said, still
not quite understanding the difficulty.
"But can I be trusted to train him?" Qui-Gon asked his former
padawan. "How can I be sure I won't hurt him? Not bend him to
the dark, nothing like that - I mean how can I be sure I won't
do more damage to his spirit than I already have? He's already
given me all of his trust - what if I don't deserve it?"
Mace was bemused - this self-doubt was something he didn't
recognize in his former master, but was only to be expected, he
supposed, given his recent history. "You deserve it," he said
stoutly. "You're the most honourable man I know."
"And yet I hurt you, didn't I, my dearest friend?" Qui-Gon said
gently. "Don't deny it - I know I did."
Mace was silenced. It was true; Qui-Gon's distance and coldness
of the past few years had hurt him almost unbearably. He moved
off the chair he was sitting in and sat on his heels at
Qui-Gon's feet, taking one hand in both of his. From the
undemonstrative knight, it was an incredibly emotional
statement of affection.
Qui-Gon stroked the back of his free hand down his former
student's face, and sighed. "I'm not the same man who trained
you, Padawan. I'm bitter and suspicious and judgmental. Obi-Wan
deserves better, I'm afraid."
Mace kissed the hand he held, then shook off his somber mood to
say briskly, "Oh, you remind me... I've scheduled you and
Obi-Wan for the next running of the Masters-Apprentices
communications course."
"The what?" Qui-Gon said, his voice lightening with amusement.
"I'm on the training board, you know," Mace said. "One of the
first things I was in charge of when I was assigned was that
sith-begotten survey." Mace was speaking here of a mammoth
undertaking that surveyed all the master-apprentice pairs in
the Order. "We were rather shocked to discover the unreasonably
high percentage of master-apprentice pairs that had only the
most rudimentary of training bonds. So now this course is
mandatory of all pairs."
"Communications?" Qui-Gon wondered. "What does it purport to
teach?"
"The kids call it 'Bonding 101'," Mace said with a grin, then
became pedagogical. "It's just a series of exercises and guided
meditations to ensure that Master and Apprentice are
communicating at the level that they should be. Only meets once
a week - not very burdensome, and it gets quite good feedback
from the Jedi who have already taken it."
"Very well, Mace," Qui-Gon laughed, his blue mood at bay. "I
will conform, and take Bonding 101 with my new apprentice. Now,
weren't you mentioning something about meatrolls with
sweetsauce earlier?"
Obi-Wan was discovering that the education of a padawan was
significantly different from that of an initiate. Of course, if
he'd stopped to think about it, he'd have realized at once that
it had to be so. Initiates lived at the Temple, and except for
well-scheduled field-trips to various planets for educational
experiences, could always be expected to be there, so their
training took the form of regular classroom lectures, readings,
laboratory work and exams, which, with the exception of the
lightsaber training and force manipulation skills, would have
been familiar to young people from any society.
A padawan's training, on the other hand, had to fit around his
master's schedule. Therefore, it relied heavily on coursework
that could be transported from place to place on a datacube, or
on very brief, intensive seminars on one topic that could be
fit in to a padawan's unreliable times in-Temple. Force
manipulation and lightsaber instruction were the responsibility
of the padawan's master, and here Obi-Wan recognized that he
was truly in luck, since his master was unparalleled at both
skills.
There were a few exceptions to the generalization that all
padawan coursework was either short or portable, and
astrogation was one of them - a padawan had to have an
uninterrupted stretch of eight weeks to be able to take this
course, and it was the foundation for all the
pilot-accreditation courses the Temple offered. Once this
prerequisite was safely out of the way, a student could take
the piloting courses at his leisure, studying the material in
the field, working on simulators when in Temple or at other
high-population Jedi installations, and taking his actual
flight tests whenever he felt ready for it.
Obi-Wan had been pleased to discover that a section of
astrogation was just starting when he and Qui-Gon returned to
Coruscant, and he had asked his master if they were going to be
in one place long enough to take it. Receiving an affirmative
answer, he had signed up at once, marvelling at his luck to get
this course out of the way during his first visit back home
since becoming a padawan - most students in the course were
several years older than he was, not being able to fit the
course into their masters' workloads before this time.
The coursework wasn't harder than other courses he'd taken, but
the instructor sped through the material, since it was a lot to
cover in a brief time, and Obi-Wan was already worried about
his ability to keep up with the readings. But during the first
session, he had been befriended by an older padawan, Jured, who
had suggested they form a study-pair, to keep each other up to
the mark, and Jured had proved to be a valuable study-partner,
being disciplined and intelligent.
Their first studying session had convinced Obi-Wan that he had
nothing to worry about - with Jured pointing out things that he
didn't understand, and he being able to clear up a few things
for Jured, he thought he was going to have no problem at all
keeping up or even excelling. The two padawans chose to
celebrate their successful partnership in Padawan Alley, Jured
condescending to join his younger friend here since, at
sixteen, he felt just a little bit too old to be seen hanging
out with the 'little padawans'. But he was a good natured young
man, and Obi-Wan intrigued him quite a bit.
Soon he was leading Obi-Wan into a description of his last
mission, and the two quickly gathered quite a crowd as Obi-Wan
told of the clues that led him to conclude that the Queen was
being systematically poisoned.
"Where was Master Jinn while all of this was going on?" a voice
in the back of the throng wanted to know.
Obi-Wan hesitated; the Council had certainly heard the whole
story, but he wasn't sure how much was sensitive information
and how much could be safely made public. He decided to go for
the conservative approach, and simply said that his master had
been on another part of the planet pursuing other issues.
Jured was impressed. "He must trust you a lot to have left you
alone to hold down the fort," he said.
"Either that, or wanted him out of the way so he could deal
with the important stuff," a new voice suggested, with more
than a trace of a sneer.
Obi-Wan was shocked to discover that his detractor was Dabien,
formerly one of his very best friends. He had not yet crossed
paths with Dabien since his return to Coruscant, and had rather
hoped that Bant's description of his new attitude towards
Obi-Wan was an exaggeration. But apparently it was not.
One of the padawans in the crowd who was unfamiliar to Obi-Wan
felt obliged to object to Dabien's unfair retort, which caused
Dabien to amplify it. "Come on, get over it - we all know
Obi-Wan is the classic example of a Pity Padawan." This term
was commonly understood to refer to an initiate selected in the
final days before his eligibility expired, the obvious
implication being that it was only out of pity that he was
selected at all. (The term was also coming into wide use to
refer to the person last selected in team sports, and the
sports-masters were infuriated about that, and trying to devise
less humiliating ways to divide initiates into teams.) "It just
gripes me to see you all making such a hero out of the kid,
when the only reason he's a padawan at all is because Master
Jinn is such a soft touch."
"He didn't pick you, though, did he?" Jured asked in a soft
voice.
Dabien hunched a petulant shoulder and said, "MY master picked
me because she wanted me, not because she felt sorry for me."
"And that's why she excludes you from all her work?" The
information Bant had shared about the relationship between
Dabien and his master was apparently common knowledge, Obi-Wan
noted with an inner wince. Poor Dabien! "You know, just because
Master Vertha doesn't value your counsel enough to trust you to
really be a partner to her doesn't mean that Master Jinn is
equally dismissive of HIS padawan; quite the contrary, if all
the stories are even half true."
Dabien had blanched a dead white while Jured was talking -
Obi-Wan found himself feeling quite sorry for his former
friend. He stood like a stone staring at Jured for a moment,
formulating a reply, but rather than deliver it, he turned and
stalked away.
Obi-Wan could still feel the heat of his face flushed from the
unpleasant encounter, when Jured turned to him and said, "So...
I understand you went with your master when he briefed the
Council the other day. Sounds like a high degree of confidence
to me - MY master hardly ever takes me with him when he appears
in the Council chambers, and he thinks I'm perfect."
"Sith, Jured - you sure have him fooled," a voice from the back
of the room called out, and the conversation turned to a more
pleasant subject; methods for keeping one's master from finding
out what mischief his padawan had been up to.
Qui-Gon sank with a sigh into the depths of the chair that the
quartermaster droids had delivered that morning. It was a
reasonable facsimile of a chair that had the misfortune to be
in the way of his lightsaber during a regrettable incident some
two or three years previously, and he wondered now why he had
waited so long to replace it. Probably because he didn't want
to be reminded of the loss of control that led to the need for
a replacement. And he had really never been in his quarters
long enough to mind sitting at a his desk to read - when
quarters are really just a transient's stop-over, the amenities
can be overlooked.
He squirmed a bit to sink deeper into his new chair, chuckling
as he recalled Obi-Wan's horror at this particular purchase.
Still a relative novice at shielding, Obi-Wan had not been able
to prevent his master from picking up that his apprentice
thought such sybaritic luxuries as chairs that embraced the
sitter weren't suitable furnishings for men of action such as
his master and himself. It had been fun to tease Obi-Wan by
suggesting that he too needed such a chair, and to pick up his
unspoken thoughts on how he would prefer to crouch on his
haunches like some primitive hunter, or at most, perch on a
hassock so that he could be across the room at one leap.
Mid-afternoon, and nothing on the agenda - Qui-Gon revelled in
the unusual circumstance. Over the past few years, his
stop-overs on Coruscant had followed the same pattern; brief
the Council on his completed mission, a stop at the Healers if
repairs were required, a day's exhausted sleep and then begin
studying the material for the next mission. If he were not
immediately given a new mission to prepare for, he had been
known to grow restless and irritable almost at once, as witness
the unfortunate chair.
Now he was experiencing a most unfamiliar feeling; so
unfamiliar that it took him several minutes to recognize it as
contentment.
The day had begun pleasantly enough. After his padawan had
raced out the door to his astrogation class, Qui-Gon had gone
to visit his old master, Yoda. There, he had relieved himself
of his opinion of interferring old gnomes, told Yoda exactly
what he thought of his unwarranted and unkind manipulation of
Obi-Wan's prospects, and lambasted his ethics, his morals and
his intellect. Then he had sat down and accepted the offer of
tea.
He had regaled Yoda with bits and pieces of his recent missions
with his new padawan that had not been significant enough to
make the official reports. He hadn't even minded Yoda's certain
air of smugness as he listened to Qui-Gon's catalog of
Obi-Wan's many virtues. Yet when Yoda remarked "Good for you,
the boy will be," he felt compelled to reply "But will I be
good for him?"
He'd lunched with Mace, and enjoyed the sensation of having his
new padawan beside him, even if his padawan had spent the whole
meal chirping in Calamarian to his friend Bant, who had sat
across from him and giggled about Obi-Wan's accent pretty much
nonstop.
After lunch, he had trailed along with Mace back to his office
at the training board, sorting through the upcoming offerings
of seminars to see if there was anything he might find
interesting. He had been, for once, an easy mark for Master
Khelus, who asked him (for the eleventh time in three years) if
he would be interested in playing a role in his upcoming crisis
simulation, "Negotiating while under fire". Wondering why he'd
always been so short with the man before, Qui-Gon agreed, and
left Khelus burbling with anticipation of a sell-out class for
once.
He had signed up for a couple of the more esoteric diplomatic
seminars and a course in an almost forgotten language, and put
his name down on a few rosters as available for consultation in
several of his pet specialities, and then took his leave of his
bemused former padawan and wandered back home.
Home... he hadn't thought of this place as 'home' in years, he
realized. Hadn't thought of anywhere as home, come to think of
it.
When Obi-Wan returned from his study session with Jured, he was
amused to find his master sunk in sloth in the sybaritic chair,
bare feet on a footstool and a trashy novel in his hand. He was
sound asleep.
Obi-Wan went to the pantry to find himself something cold to
drink and drifted back in to the common area, where a newly
awakened Qui-Gon was trying very hard to pretend he'd been
awake all along.
"You are not fooling me," he told his master. "You were
sleeping like a baby when I came in, and no amount of acting on
your part is going to persuade me you weren't."
Qui-Gon gave up the pretense and yawned hugely, before saying
"And no amount of disapproval on your part is going to make me
feel guilty, either. It was a nap, Obi-Wan, not a crime."
Obi-Wan giggled and then sobered. "I wasn't trying to make you
feel guilty." His voice grew a little gruff. "If you're tired,
you should sleep."
"I was teasing, Padawan," Qui-Gon told him gently.
Obi-Wan smiled a little uncertainly at that, then cast about
for a change of topic. "I don't think I've ever seen you
barefoot before," he assayed.
Qui-Gon wiggled his toes. "Do you disapprove?"
Obi-Wan grew somewhat flushed. "Why would you think I would
disapprove of ANYTHING you did? I think you're ... " He stopped
just short of saying 'perfect'. "... perfectly within your
rights to be as comfortable as you want in your own home."
"Can't I tease you, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon sounded rather sad.
Obi-Wan's voice was a small almost-whisper. "I just don't like
you implying that I disapprove of you when I -don't-." He was
looking at the floor. "I couldn't."
"I hope someday you feel comfortable enough with me to be able
to disapprove of me whenever it's called for," Qui-Gon
suggested mildly.
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan mumbled, and made a break for his
bedroom.
He returned in a few minutes, having changed into his less
formal tunic, a datapad in his hand.
"Master, what's this message about this class that showed up on
my roster? Says it's for masters and padawans in the first year
of their bond."
"Oh, that's the class Mace signed us up for," Qui-Gon told him.
"I hope it doesn't interfere with anything you had planned -
it's one of the required courses now, apparently, so I thought
we could get it out of the way."
"I didn't know Masters had to take classes," Obi-Wan was
intrigued at the prospect. "I thought you just went on missions
and stuff."
"Would that it were so," Qui-Gon told him, although oddly
enough he didn't mean it as much as he would have a year ago.
"No, a Jedi is continually learning. Why, just today, I signed
up for a pair of seminars in diplomacy and a language class,"
he finished virtuously. He then rather ruined the effect by
sighing lugubriously.
Obi-Wan was reading through the course description in the
message and growing a little more reconciled to having his
schedule amended without his foreknowledge. It did sound rather
interesting, and it was another thing that he could do with his
Master.
He had been a little bit surprised, after just a few days back
on Coruscant, at how much more time he spent in the company of
his master while in the field; Temple activities were built
around rank as a rule, and Obi-Wan was finding that he was only
with his master for force- and saber-lessons and in their free
time. He missed Qui-Gon, and that didn't make any sense, since
he was living with him.
One morning a week in which he and his master worked on
improving their mental bond sounded like a really great way to
spend time, actually, Obi-Wan thought with real pleasure. Then
he shot a searching glance at his master; he knew he sometimes
projected when he didn't mean to and that his master picked up
thoughts and feelings from him that he would rather he hadn't.
He found Qui-Gon watching him quizzically; when Obi-Wan caught
his eye, he smiled. At this, Obi-Wan felt a sudden flare of
joy, and no longer worried if his master could 'overhear' him
or not. He was glad Qui-Gon was his master, and he didn't care
who knew it, especially not Qui-Gon himself.
After a moment's confusion, he said, in a surprisingly normal
voice, "This says for new masters and padawans - do you suppose
Master Vertha and her padawan have taken this? They've been
together for two years or more."
"Mace says it's a new course, so although it is supposed to be
taken the first year of the bond, they are having to back-fill
with older pairs," Qui-Gon told him. "So in theory, they may
have not gotten to Master Vertha yet. Why?"
"Well, it says it's supposed to improve communication between
master and padawan," Obi-Wan read off the course description.
"If Master Vertha and Dabien have taken it, then it's probably
not worth going to. And if they haven't, then they really
really should."
Qui-Gon studied his apprentice in silence for a few moments,
but Obi-Wan had said all he was going to say. "I suppose one
could make subtle, unobtrusive inquiries..."
"Would you?" Now Obi-Wan was asking him directly. "Subtly?"
Qui-Gon was surprised to discover that he would walk through
fire if his padawan asked him to. "I would even employ stealth
and cunning if you thought it was necessary," he replied
lightly, and was rewarded with a grateful smile. Fair exchange,
he thought, as he began the process of gaining release from the
over-indulgent chair so that they could adjourn to the dining
hall.
Obi-Wan wasn't terribly surprised, when they arrived for the
first session of 'Bonding 101' a few days later, to discover
Master Vertha and Dabien already there. He grinned as he
wondered whether Qui-Gon had to employ stealth and cunning, or
if mere subtlety had proved sufficient.
Dabien saw Obi-Wan's grin, and scowled, thinking, no doubt,
that he was being mocked, but Obi-Wan just gave him a sunny
smile and a nod of recognition, leaving Dabien to make of that
what he would.
The class was taking place in one of the medium saber-courts;
runnings of this particular class were planned to be at least
double-sized until they had managed to get all the existing
master-padawan pairs trained, and then the class would drop
down to a dozen or so pairs per session.
Attendees had been instructed to bring meditation mats. Obi-Wan
was carrying his and his master's; he followed Qui-Gon to an
unoccupied spot and unrolled them, sinking down on his knees
beside him.
He couldn't help but notice that their appearance had caused a
bit of a stir; not realizing that he was also becoming part of
the legend, he attributed the buzz to the presence of his
master, and felt a guilty flush of pride.
He recognized a familiar face from Padawan Alley several pairs
to his left, a newly attached padawan who had confided that he
would trade places with Obi-Wan in a second. While Obi-Wan had
found this uncritical envy somewhat gratifying, he had also
been a little shocked - it had seemed so disloyal to the boy's
master.
Obi-Wan paused to check the strength and stability of his
mental shields - he was really getting better at this - and
then pondered a hypothetical. Suppose the man kneeling next to
him was not the legendary Qui-Gon Jinn? (The fictitious Qui-Gon
he envisioned to replace him bore a startling resemblance to
the long-dead holo-actor who had portrayed Bre C'Brah to the
adoration of generations of adventure fans.) Suppose this man
who was his master wasn't an unparallelled swordsman and
diplomat-warrior, but was instead a mid-level bureaucrat? No
one very important, just another of the many factotums that
kept the Temple and Order functioning.
And further suppose that the Legendary Qui-Gon Jinn had
appeared at the Temple looking for a padawan. Would he,
Obi-Wan, wish he were masterless so that he could be selected
by the fictitious Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan shifted a little sideways so
that he could sneak a look at his master. Qui-Gon was sitting
at ease, a pensive look on his face, waiting for the class to
commence, lost in his own thoughts. Would Obi-Wan wish he could
trade places with the the padawan of the fictitious Qui-Gon,
and leave this master? The thought made him shudder.
This man, right here, was the one he wanted for his master, not
a legend, but the man with the tired blue eyes who teased him.
And it didn't matter what he did - if he were a Temple cook,
Obi-Wan thought, he would love him just the same. There, he
realized - he finally came right out and admitted to himself
that he loved his master. If Bant were here, Obi-Wan thought
ruefully, she'd say I was looking fuzzy, I suppose.
Qui-Gon looked up and noticed his padawan's steady regard, and
smiled, earning an answering smile from Obi-Wan. Then he
whispered, "I love you too, Padawan."
Obi-Wan's mouth dropped opened, and he blushed fiercely as he
investigated the state of his mental shields.
Qui-Gon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, saying,
"Your shields are fine, Obi-Wan."
"Then how...?" Obi-Wan stopped, and dropped his eyes to the
floor.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Qui-Gon said. "I just thought
you needed to know how important you've become to me." He
lifted his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder to cup his face gently.
Obi-Wan found the flush of his embarrassment morphing into a
warm glow. "But how did you know what I was thinking? I thought
I had my shields all set?"
"You did, padawan," Qui-Gon said. "But your face is a window
into your honest heart - particularly your eyes." He stroked a
thumb gently over an eyebrow. "Your love honors me... perhaps
more than I deserve."
Obi-Wan puzzled briefly over this last caveat, then laughed.
"Well, at least I finally figured out why I always lose at
poker."
"A stoic demeanor can be learned," Qui-Gon told him. "It's an
asset to a diplomat. Although I must admit, it seems a shame to
cloak your innate honesty."
"If a pokerface can be taught, then I will learn it," Obi-Wan
vowed firmly. "And you are going to teach me." Stirrings at the
front of the salle indicated that the class was about to be
called to order. Obi-Wan captured Qui-Gon's hand briefly and
kissed it before turning to face the instructor. "I don't mind
you being able to see right through me, but I'd rather not be
an open book to everybody."
Qui-Gon turned his attention to the instructor as well, full of
apprehension. How could he dare open his mind to the young man
beside him and risk losing his love?
Now the man at the front of the room was speaking - Master Tal.
Qui-Gon remembered him; he'd been the soul-healer assigned to
try to help him deal with the loss of Xanatos. He wasn't very
effective, Qui-Gon thought rather bitterly, although in justice
he was forced to admit that he hadn't given the man much to
work with.
Tal was saying, "...all sentient species learn early to close
off their innermost thoughts, even from their closest and
dearest. This is a survival mechanism, and usually a useful and
proper one. However, there are circumstances in which this
reticence is inappropriate, and we no longer know how to tear
down the walls between us and another."
Other healers were moving through the salle now, passing out
datapads to all the participants.
Tal went on, "We spend an inordinate amount of time teaching
our initiates to shield their thoughts and emotions - we have
to, with this many force-sensitives all packed together in one
place. Unshielded minds in such close proximity would lead to
bedlam. But until this class, we have never taught a more
sensitive skill, the ability to open your thoughts to one
other. Masters and Padawans have been thrown into relationships
with one another and it was presumed that they would figure it
out. Most times they muddle their way to a reasonably
functionally training bond that serves their purpose, some
times their bond is only rudimentary, and sometimes no bond
develops at all. But with a few simple techniques, we can
quickly teach you to work on your communication with your
partner, and hopefully save you some early misunderstandings,
or even long-term tragedy."
Obi-Wan glanced over at Qui-Gon, worried. His master's
expression showed no emotion; perhaps he was employing some of
that diplomatic stoicism. But Obi-Wan wondered if he was
thinking of his second apprentice now. He wasn't sure how
Qui-Gon could avoid remembering that particular failed
relationship, and he wished there was something he could do to
make it hurt less.
Tal went on, "The first exercise is just to familiarize
yourself with the techniques we'll be employing. I want
everyone to write down an event from your memory; one that both
of you will recall. The event isn't really important - just
select one that you have vivid memories of. No consultation;
your selection must be independent. Just jot down an identifier
- you don't need to describe the event. Dinner with the
chancellor on Varus; something that will be understood by you
both."
There was a brief pause while Tal waited for all the
participants to comply with his directions. "Everyone have an
event written down? Now here's what you are going to be doing.
You will take one event at a time, and, padawans first, you
will mentally share with your partner your memories and
emotions about that event." Obi-Wan was amused at the 'padawans
first' rule - probably to keep the younger partner from being
influenced by the memories of his stronger master. "Then,
masters, you share your memories of the same event. Then do the
same for the event the other chose. I think you'll find this is
very instructive; your memories of events you both took part in
are going to be very different, and the differences are going
to be very significant."
There was a stirring as the class members all turned towards
their partners preparatory to beginning the exercise. Tal
continued, "Later we will look at specific events in your
partnership; right now we are only interested in your being
able to connect with one another and communicate mental images.
If anyone has trouble connecting, which can be difficult for
new padawans, we have mind-adepts throughout the room ready to
help you - just ask one of them to assist you."
Qui-Gon passed his datapad to Obi-Wan in exchange for his. Tal
was still talking. "You will find, thoughout your career, that
you may want to use this technique of memory comparisons when
you are puzzled by something, or unsure that you understood
someone correctly, or just need a sanity-check on your own
opinions. A good master-apprentice bond lets you get an
alternate view on events which may prove invaluable in your
work." Obi-Wan looked to see what his master had selected as
his event, and started. There, in his master's distinctive
handwriting, was written, "the Mines of Bandomeer." The exact
event, in the same words, that Obi-Wan had selected.
He looked up at his master to see how he was reacting to this
coincidence. Qui-Gon raised his eyes from Obi-Wan's datapad and
smiled wryly. "A signal event in our lives, apparently."
"Master, I'm not sure how to do this," Obi-Wan said
uncertainly. *I mean, I've got the mind-talk down, but the rest
of it...*
*Just hold the event in your mind, Padawan,* Qui-Gon told him
quietly, *and let me come to you this first time. Then you'll
see how it's done and can initiate the contact the next time.*
Obi-Wan nodded obediantly and closed his eyes, looking inside
himself. Bandomeer was such a difficult time - his hopes of
being a Jedi knight apparently dashed beyond recovery, dashed,
in fact, by this man...
He felt a gentle presence with him now. He observed as Qui-Gon
eased his psyche into his mind, and thought perhaps he could do
that if he had to.
*Show me,* Qui-Gon told him. And Obi-Wan thought back to the
moment when he thought they were both doomed to die - doomed by
Qui-Gon's failed apprentice Xanatos. He recalled his
anticipatory grief, that his life would end here, and that
there was nothing he could do to make it worthwhile. And then
he remembered the collar he wore and thought that perhaps he
could at least save Qui-Gon. It startled him how important this
became - to save the man who had repeatedly blighted his hopes.
But he felt that if he accomplished nothing else in his almost
thirteen years but to give Qui-Gon Jinn back to the Jedi Order,
then perhaps his life wouldn't have been totally worthless
after all...
And then Qui-Gon had called him 'padawan'! It was shocking how
quickly dead hope had sprung to life. Oh, please - let him mean
it, he remembered thinking, and it's not just a slip of the
tongue that he'd use with any boy my age. He tried to crush the
new-found hope, for he knew that if it took hold of him and
then Qui-Gon rejected him yet again, his heart would surely
break. But it was too late. Hope lived again.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and snuck a peek up at his master's
face. His composure was almost destroyed at the sight of tears
leaking from Qui-Gon's tightly closed eyelids. "Master," he
whispered, taking one of Qui-Gon's hands in his and squeezing.
"Oh, please, Master."
*Come to me now, Obi-Wan,* he heard Qui-Gon tell him. *Come to
me before my courage fails me.*
This worried him - what would Qui-Gon fear? From him? But he
obeyed, connecting with his master's mind and feeling his
memories and emotions... So odd a perspective, to see through
another's eyes.
He felt Qui-Gon's anger at Xanatos, his despair as he realized
the situation they had been trapped in, and his burgeoning
respect for himself as he offered his own life in exchange for
the other occupants of the mines. *It was for you, though,* he
thought idly. *Saving the others was just a side benefit - I
only thought of you.* He felt Qui-Gon's anguish increase. He
followed the memories onward, to Qui-Gon's decision not to
leave him; that if he were to join the Force here in this
place, he would not go alone.
He felt Qui-Gon's acknowledgement, when the danger was passed,
that he could no longer pretend that Obi-Wan was not his
Padawan, when he so clearly was, and was meant to be. And he
felt Qui-Gon's deep regret as he accepted him. It stabbed him
to his very core.
He tried to draw back physically and mentally from Qui-Gon, but
his master had a tight grip on his mind and his hands now and
would not let him withdraw. *Look deeper,* he heard Qui-Gon
tell him, and he didn't want to - he hurt enough already. But
he had to know what else was there; he wasn't sure he'd ever
have the courage to go through this again, and he suddenly
understood Qui-Gon's reluctance. He didn't want me to see this,
he thought. He didn't want to hurt me with knowing that even
then he didn't really want me.
But he looked again into Qui-Gon's memories, and found again
the painful regret, and Qui-Gon was with him now and making him
examine it, and he discovered the source of his master's
sadness at being forced to attach him; that he, Qui-Gon, did
not consider himself fit to be master to another padawan, and
that Obi-Wan was not getting the master he deserved, but was
being tied to a flawed failure. "No!" he said aloud, and opened
his eyes again. "It's not true."
"It is," Qui-Gon told him. *Or at least, I fear that it is. We
have to acknowledge it - I don't know if I can successfully
train another padawan. I didn't do you a favor when I accepted
you; I may have done you a grave disservice.*
*Now you're talking nonsense,* Obi-Wan said crossly. *Cut it
out.* He felt his master's sadness become tempered by fond
amusement at his preemptory tone, and said aloud, "I mean it."
"We have a lot to discover about one another, I think," Qui-Gon
said.
Tal finished entering his notes on the new class in his datapad
and dealt with a few issues the mind-healers had brought to his
attention, and then began his overview of the class.
This was the seventh or eighth running of this particular
course, and he was starting to see some trends; fairly typical,
not unexpected. For example, pairs that tended to have the most
difficulty were knights with their first padawans. Especially
knights who had waited for some time after their knighting and
had not been part of a master-apprentice bond for several
years. Skills do atrophy, he thought.
Another sign that a pair might have trouble bonding was if the
master had previously lost a padawan to a tragedy. Some
padawans choose to leave the Jedi life for a variety of benign
reasons; not many, but some. Their masters usually had an
easier time accepting a new padawan. Those masters who had lost
a beloved padawan to death could go either way - eager to
replace the lost one with someone new to love, or reluctant to
risk their hearts again.
Tal had been shocked when he had heard that Qui-Gon Jinn had
accepted another padawan; he would have been prepared to swear
that he would never be able to trust again. Losing a padawan to
the Dark! It was the ultimate of tragic losses, and Qui-Gon had
not handled it well. He had used all the assets in his
formidable array of mental armaments to prevent Tal from
breaking down his denial and detachment, and so when the healer
had heard the rumor that he had attached a padawan while in the
field, he had sought out Master Yoda to register his
disapproval.
He even suggested to Yoda that it was perhaps an active danger
to the boy to allow Qui-Gon to train him, but Yoda just gave
him an enigmatic look and told him not to try to interfere with
the Will of the Force.
Tal had been surprised to see the pair registered for his
course, and curious, as was everyone, to see them in person.
Now as he prepared to do his usual tour of the 'classroom' to
see if any of the participants needed more help than his
assistants could provide, he chose a route that would take him
by Qui-Gon and his new apprentice last. He was sure that they
were going to need all the help he could muster.
He paused a few moments to consult with the assistant who was
helping Master Vertha; she was having some issues with secrecy
and how much she ought to be able to reveal to her padawan.
"Everything, Master," he told her gently. "Your padawan is an
extension of yourself; if you are allowed access to controlled
information, your padawan is as well. This had always been the
case, and it always will be. The Senate understands that."
After this minor deflection, he finally found himself near the
pair that gave him the most concern. He stopped dead in his
tracks and gaped like an initiate.
For Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of detachment, was clutching his young
apprentice to his chest as if he were the most precious thing
in his life. Obi-Wan's face was buried in his tunic and his
shoulders were shaking; Qui-Gon's arm was around him tightly,
and one hand lightly stroked through the short-cropped hair.
Tears were running unnoticed down the master's face, as he
pressed his cheek to the youngster's and murmured into his ear.
I don't believe I'm needed here, Tal thought to himself, and
returned to his desk at the front of the salle to handle more
adminstrative details. The healer was smiling.
It was Third's Day evening and Mace Windu was once again
visiting his former master; he had begun to make a point of
'dropping in' once he realized that Obi-Wan and Bant had
started watching the entire Old Empire series from the
beginning and that Thirdsday was their usual night for it. He
remembered watching with Qui-Gon when he was a padawan, and
found the weekly gathering to be nostalgic fun. He no longer
made excuses for coming over, and was expected to the extent
that if Old Empire night was cancelled for other commitments,
Qui-Gon always forewarned him, and another night was usually
substituted.
The agenda this evening was a little different, since they
began by helping Qui-Gon with his role in the upcoming crisis
simulation, "Negotiating Under Fire". This turned in to a live
reading of the script; Qui-Gon complained bitterly that all his
lines were boring (he was 'the Seasoned Veteran Negotiator'),
and that 'the Young Hot-Tempered Ambassador' (being voiced this
evening by Bant) had a lot more fun things to say. Mace was
quite taken with his role as Wily Spokesperson for the
Insurgents, and Obi-Wan threw himself into the part of the
Potentially Unstable Terrorist/Patriot with gusto.
Of course, four people weren't enough to staff all the roles,
and there was a lot of swapping in and out of character, to
mutual amusement and confusion, as witness this exchange:
Qui-Gon: You'll have to be the agitated young guardsman here,
Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan (stalking around the room, looking moody): I can't - I
have to mutter to myself and act like the least little thing
will set me off.
Bant (rolling her eyes): Oh, please.... Okay, -I'll- be the
agitated young guardsman... 'Sires! the rebels are massing on
the plains!'
Qui-Gon (scrolling back and forth madly on his datapad): Where
the Sith...? Hold on... lost my place...
After a few moments in which everyone stood in frozen tableaux
waiting for Qui-Gon to find his lines, he tossed the datapad on
the sofa with a muffled imprecation, and held out one arm
dramatically and declaimed, "Let us leave quickly, then, but
remember - once we take this step, there can be no going back."
Since this was Bre C'Brah's curtain line in the last thrilling
installment of Tales of the Old Empire (or at least the last
that the young Jedi had seen, only last week), this caused Bant
and Obi-Wan to dissolve into laughter.
Mace, laughing himself, began to hum the Old Empire theme, soon
joined by Bant and Obi-Wan, and it was clear to all that their
own dramatics were at an end for the evening, and that other
more professional actors were going to have to take it from
here.
As the week's installment of adventure was drawing to its
close, Mace looked around the common room with mellow good
feeling. His new association with his former master was
characterized with a little tinge of jealousy.
He had begun by being a little envious of Obi-Wan; not
unnaturally, since Obi-Wan now lived where Mace used to live,
and shared a close relationship with Mace's much-beloved former
master. He noticed that gradually, he was also starting to feel
a tiny bit envious of Qui-Gon as well. It must be nice, he
thought, to inspire such uncritical devotion in a youngster.
For Obi-Wan clearly thought his master was without peer.
Now the show was over and Bant was making her farewells - as an
initiate, she was required to be back in the initiates'
dormitories at a reasonable hour unless late-leave had been
applied for and approved. She whispered a few giggles to
Obi-Wan and then gave a polite thank-you to Qui-Gon for having
allowed her to visit. She even had a shy goodnight for Mace
himself.
"Are we still on for tomorrow, initiate?" he asked her, for the
two of them had continued sparring together after their first
meeting and Bant was noticing her saber-skills had improved
enormously.
"Yes, thank you, Knight Windu," she said with a pleased smile.
"It is too kind of you."
"Not at all, Initiate," he told her as he saw her out. "You
keep me in form."
Mace stood and looked after her for a few moments, and then
turned back to the common room. Obi-Wan was picking up the
bottles and glasses that littered the area, and vanished into
the hallway, which led both to the kitchen and the padawan's
quarters. He called out 'goodnight' and he left the room - Mace
assumed he was retiring for the night.
Mace turned to Qui-Gon and said idly, "It's the oddest thing -
tonight I found myself wanting to call that girl Padawan."
"And did you want to hear her call you Master?" Qui-Gon asked
curiously.
Mace looked startled. Then he thought about it. "Yes, I think I
did."
"Congratulate me, Padawan," Qui-Gon said to him with a fond
grin. "I'm about to become a GrandMaster."
"Is that it, then?" Mace was marvelling at this moment of
self-discovery. "When you know it's right, you just know?"
"That's it, alright," Qui-Gon told him. "A moment of
recognition. I'm glad."
Mace stood thinking for a moment more, and then stirred. "Well,
I'd better get some rest. Looks like I have some forms to file
and so on tomorrow."
Qui-Gon just nodded his goodbyes - Mace was a former resident
of these rooms, and as such didn't need a host's escort to the
door.
After the door clicked closed behind him, Qui-Gon remained
seated lost in thought for a moment. Then he looked up and
found Obi-Wan standing in the door to the hallway, looking at
him.
"Padawan?" he said. For Obi-Wan was looking rather wistful,
even sad.
"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't
help overhearing Knight Windu..."
Qui-Gon was at a loss - surely Obi-Wan didn't begrudge his
friend her upcoming elevation to the ranks of padawan status?
"It troubles you that Mace is going to ask Bant to become his
padawan?"
Obi-Wan looked surprised, then shook his head. "Oh, not that -
I'm thrilled to pieces; I sort of hoped he was tending in that
direction. You should hear her talk about him - thinks he
orders the stars into configuration, practically. No, I was
just feeling a little... I don't know, moody, I guess."
He came in to the room and perched on the footstool of
Qui-Gon's chair. "I know you're finally reconciled to having a
padawan again, but I can't help but wish - just a little - that
we'd started out like they are... with it all obvious to
everyone and all, I mean."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly and cursed himself for a blind
fool. How had he thought he would ever be able to escape this
moment...
"Obi-Wan," he began deliberately, but Obi-Wan interrupted him.
"Oh, please don't feel like you have to explain anything - I
know you didn't want a padawan when you accepted me and I'm
grateful as anything that you took me anyway. And I know you
don't mind any more. Really I do." Obi-Wan was practically
babbling in his haste to forestall any further revelations on
Qui-Gon's part.
"Padawan," his master quelled him with an upraised hand. "Come
here."
Obi-Wan stood up and took a step toward Qui-Gon, who took both
his wrists in his hands and drew him to stand between his
knees.
"I knew the first time I saw you that you were meant to be my
padawan," he said sternly. "I simply refused to accept that."
"When I fought with Bruck?" Obi-Wan asked.
"No." Obi-Wan looked startled. "Before that."
"When, then?" Obi-Wan couldn't recall ever having met Qui-Gon
before the meeting at the Temple when he had been refused for
the first time.
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan to him, and Obi-Wan found himself
sitting on one thigh with his master's arms around him. It was
the way someone held a child who needed comforting, and Obi-Wan
wasn't a child, but he certainly wasn't going to withdraw.
Instead, he leaned back with his head on his master's chest and
waited for further explanations.
Qui-Gon's voice took on a story-teller's tones. "I was back on
Coruscant for a few days - it must have been a year or two
after... after I lost Xanatos. I was visiting with Yoda; he
hadn't started nagging me about taking a new padawan yet - I
guess he thought I needed time still. But that was about to
change."
Obi-Wan snuggled deeper into Qui-Gon's lap. He was feeling like
a little kid again, and was surprised at how much he liked it.
"We were walking through the meditation gardens, overlooking
the berryfields, and Yoda was giving me one of his patented
lectures on the Living Force. At least that's what I thought he
was doing - really he was setting me up."
"'A hypothetical example, I pose to you,' he said." Qui-Gon
went on. "He pointed out a group of initiates who were wreaking
havoc in the berryfields, and said 'Suppose you had to pick a
padawan this instant from that group.' Only of course he said
it all backwards the way he does."
This earned a giggle from Obi-Wan. "'Hypothetically, my
Master,' I told him, 'I have no intention of ever taking a
padawan again.' But that didn't stop him; he said, 'but
suppose, hypothetically, that you were. What does the Living
Force tell you?' So to keep him happy and allow him to come to
the point of his lecture, I glanced over at all the rampaging
little brats... I mean fine crop of upstanding young Jedi
hopefuls..." Obi-Wan snickered here, "and said, 'well, if you
were going to hold a lightsaber to my throat, I guess I'd pick
that one... the laughing young heathen with the copper hair.'"
"And that was me?" Obi-Wan breathed.
"That was you. Yoda cackled like a mad thing, and said, 'Your
padawan that boy shall be.' I pointed out that we were speaking
of hypotheticals, but he just shook his head. 'Lied, I did,'
the old reprobate told me. 'Padawan you need, and that boy your
destiny will be.'"
"When?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud.
"Several years before Bandomeer," Qui-Gon told him. "You
were... I don't know, nine or ten."
"Nine or ten," Obi-Wan whispered as if to himself. "I must have
just moved to the initiates dorms... None of us in my group
were selected that young."
Qui-Gon tightened his arms around his apprentice, who melted
even further into his embrace. "If I were nine when you picked
me, this wouldn't feel so weird," Obi-Wan remarked.
"Sitting on my lap?" Qui-Gon asked. "Does it bother you?"
"Uh-uh," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. "I sort of feel like I
-ought- to feel too old for this, but I guess I don't."
"They don't hug initiates enough," Qui-Gon offered. "I have
often thought it was a bit much to ask of our creche youngsters
to go to the dorms at nine and then be expected to be 'grown
up'."
"I'm hug-starved?" Obi-Wan suggested with a grin.
"No need - I've got plenty." Qui-Gon pressed his cheek down on
the top of Obi-Wan's head. "What was it like, Padawan? Waiting
to be picked while all the others were selected before you?"
"Well, I didn't think anything of it at first," Obi-Wan said,
"but when I was twelve, I really started to worry... I mean, I
knew I was smart; I could see my scores. And I knew I was okay
with a sword; that was obvious from the tournaments. So I
started wondering if maybe I had some glaring personality
defect that kept masters and knights from wanting to pick me.
Made me more shy that usual, I think... afraid I'd say the
wrong thing."
"I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon cuddled him a little. "I would
say I was sorry that I didn't pick you when I first saw you,
but I'm really not - you wouldn't have liked me then. I wasn't
very nice."
"Well, you don't have to apologize," Obi-Wan said reasonably.
"I mean, lots and lots of other masters didn't pick me, so it's
not as though you were alone in not wanting me."
Qui-Gon winced, and came to a decision. "Obi-Wan, there was a
reason other people didn't pick you before you were sent to
AgriCorp, and it's going to make you angry - it made me angry."
"Huh?" Obi-Wan swivelled around so he could look at Qui-Gon.
"After our little 'hypothetical' conversation, Yoda made a
point of shielding you from the notice of other masters and
knights in search of padawans. He had decided you were the
padawan for me and didn't want to risk anyone else attaching
you before I came to my senses and realized it." Qui-Gon looked
sheepish. "I didn't know he was doing it, and I really berated
him once I found out."
"You mean all the time I was busting a gut trying to impress
the masters and knights who were watching us initiates
spar...?" Obi-Wan sounded indignant.
"They were unable to be impressed, thanks to the machinations
of my evil old Master," Qui-Gon confirmed.
"Well!" Obi-Wan was rigid with suppressed ire.
"For your sake, Obi-Wan, I was quite angry with him," Qui-Gon
said, "but I would be lying if I tried to make you believe I
haven't come to be grateful for his interference."
"Well..." A different kind of 'well' this time, as Obi-Wan
subsided back onto Qui-Gon's chest. "I s'pose..." He took one
of Qui-Gon's hands in both of his and idly toyed with it.
"Master..."
"Mmmm," Qui-Gon said lazily.
"I know you didn't want a padawan for years and years, and I
think I sort of understand why, but I don't, not really."
Obi-Wan sounded a little nervous.
Qui-Gon sat up a little straighter, and thought for a moment
before he began. "This is a little hard to explain in words, so
I'll use an example... Who is the most important person in your
life?"
"You are," Obi-Wan said shyly.
"Oh. Yes, I'm in charge of your training and important to your
future. But what I meant was, who do you love more than anyone
else?"
"That's still you," Obi-Wan said with a little laugh.
"Oh." Qui-Gon looked rather uncomfortable. "Then the example I
was going to use... Obi-Wan, can you be real clear in your mind
the difference between a hypothetical and a real situation? Can
I pose a hypothetical that might be very upsetting to you if it
were real?"
"I think so," Obi-Wan said.
"Alright. Then picture this. You trust me, right?" Obi-Wan
nodded. "And you love me, and believe in me?" Another nod. "And
you think I would never do anything to hurt you, and that I
love and trust you too?" Nod.
"Then picture how you would feel..." here Qui-Gon's voice got a
little shaky... "if it were made clear to you that everything
you believed about me was a lie - that I didn't care for you in
the slightest, that I mocked you with my friends, and was just
using you to get what I wanted..." his voice tailed off to a
whisper.
Obi-Wan's throat worked as he tried to swallow. He felt a
stinging sensation in his eyes, but he ignored it and tried to
picture it to himself... Qui-Gon laughing at him... Not caring
for him in the slightest. It hurt - it really hurt.
Qui-Gon felt a hesitant tendril of thought graze the surface of
his mind. *Like this?* Obi-Wan asked him, showing him the
imagined pain his scenario had caused.
"That's part of it," Qui-Gon told him. Then, *here*, and
Qui-Gon opened a long-shrouded cupboard in his mind where he
had stored away all his grief. *More like this*, he told
Obi-Wan, and guided him to look inside.
And Obi-Wan could feel it! The overpowering grief of loss, the
humiliation of being so blind, the numbness of disbelief, but
more than anything, the raw pain. He let out an involuntary
wail as he assimilated what his master had been experiencing
for years. And as suddenly as it began, it stopped, as Qui-Gon
slammed his mental shields back in place and gathered him
close.
"Fool, idiot!" he muttered, as he stroked Obi-Wan's hair and
kissed his forehead. "To expose a child to all of that..."
"I'm NOT a child," Obi-Wan expostulated, his voice muffled in
his master's tunic. "And I need to know this." He extricated
himself from Qui-Gon's tight hug and knelt with his knees on
either side of Qui-Gon's lap, taking his master's face between
his hands.
"I'm your padawan and you should not be hiding things from me -
I need to know what happened to you, and how you feel. It's
important!"
"Even if it hurts you?" Qui-Gon asked, unaware that tears were
sliding down his face now.
"Even if!" Obi-Wan said vehemently. "You've been hurting alone
for all this time, and look at you - you're not over it yet.
How can you hope to be if you lock everything up in your mind
and brood over it in private?" He stroked a tear from Qui-Gon's
face gently.
"You shouldn't have to see your master crying," Qui-Gon
remarked with a sniff.
"Better than you crying alone," Obi-Wan said, "because then who
would comfort you?" Here he kissed his master's cheeks and then
his eyes.
"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured, stroking his padawan's cheek
with one gentle finger. "You shouldn't make yourself so
vulnerable, not even to me... I could break your heart
irrevocably right now, just by pushing you away."
"But you won't," Obi-Wan said positively.
"No, I won't," Qui-Gon agreed, and pulled Obi-Wan closer to
him, snuggling him down into his lap and kissing the top of his
head. "Not now, not ever."
Several minutes later, Obi-Wan remarked idly as he drowsed in
his Master's arms, "We're a perfect match, you know... we even
have matching insecurities." Qui-Gon laughed and planted a kiss
on his nose.
When Obi-Wan awoke, light was pouring in through the
floor-to-ceiling windows of the common rooms. He stirred, and
felt his master's arms tighten around him - Qui-Gon was still
asleep, but his movements were waking him. "Master," he said.
"Mmmm." Qui-Gon nuzzled his face into Obi-Wan's hair.
"It's daylight, and I need to use the bathroom!" Obi-Wan said
in a tone of laughing urgency.
"Huh?" Qui-Gon came fully awake and looked around him. "Great
Force! I slept like the dead..." He unwrapped his arms from
around his apprentice, who leaped to his feet and made a dash
for the 'fresher.
He returned a few minutes later, having shrugged into a fresh
tunic and collected some breakfast from the pantry. "You know,"
he remarked to Qui-Gon as the latter made his way, yawning,
towards the facilities, "I'm starting to change my mind about
that chair." Qui-Gon's laugh floated back to him.
Some time later, as he was about to leave their quarters for
his astrogation class, Obi-Wan came around the table to
Qui-Gon's chair and put his arms around his neck. Qui-Gon
leaned gratefully into his embrace. "Master, I want to get
something nice for Master Yoda, for being such an interfering
little busybody," he said pensively. "I don't know him well
enough to be able to pick something out, but you do... Think
about what we could find that he'd like."
"I'll give it the most direct consideration," Qui-Gon told him
earnestly, and Obi-Wan gave him another fierce hug before
racing out the door for his class.
Later that afternoon, Obi-Wan found his way to Padawan Alley,
looking for Bant. He was dying to hear her reaction to Knight
Windu's decision.
As luck would have it, he ran into her almost immediately - she
had come looking for him. And she was wearing a string of
shells around her neck, the Calimari badge of padawanhood. Mon
Calimari padawans are given a shell from their masters for each
year and each signal event in their careers, until Calimari
padawans near knighthood frequently have to wrap their badges
around their necks in several loops to keep them from impeding
them.
They hugged each other and found a table away from the crowds,
and Obi-Wan listened happily to Bant babbling about the wonders
of her new master. "I'd say you look fuzzy," he remarked, "but
you really don't... more fishy."
Bant swatted him. "Monkey," she retorted. "Fish can't get fuzzy
- we just get bright and shiny."
They were interrupted before the battlelines could be truly
drawn - a feverishly excited Dabien came racing into the alley
and looked around, then spotted them and scrambled over to
their table.
"I just had to stop in to say 'bye for now'," he babbled. "I'm
off with my master... can't say where. But it's off-planet and
I don't know how long we'll be gone or when I'll be able to see
you all again, and I wanted to say 'bye' and I'm sorry,
Obi-Wan, for being nasty to you..."
"Slow down," Obi-Wan laughed. "You're making me dizzy."
"Sorry," Dabien laughed too, rather ruefully. "I am acting a
bit like a ditz, but I'm so excited I can hardly stand it...
We're going to be doing really important work and I know what
she's doing now, and ... oh, she's just wonderful!" He came to
a full stop and blushed brick red.
"That's alright, Dabien, we understand," Bant said teasingly.
"We were just raving about how wonderful OUR masters are," here
she wagged her chain of shells suggestively, "so we understand
TOTALLY."
At this, Dabien had to exclaim in wonder and then hear Bant's
story of how she came to be Mace Windu's new padawan, so it was
several minutes before he leaped to his feet with a startled
imprecation and rushed off to meet his master for his first
actual mission.
Bant and Obi-Wan looked at each other and laughed. "I was going
to ask, 'Do we look like that?', but I guess we do," Bant
remarked.
"Yeah, guess so," Obi-Wan said, taking Bant's hand and leaning
companionably against her shoulder. "Still and all, and as many
other padawans have said this before, I think you and I are the
luckiest padawans in the entire Order, ever."
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