A Second Chance

by Jayne Hundt (jayne_hundt@yahoo.com)

Series: Riding the Wheel of If
Rating: PG-13
Category: AU
Archive: Yes, if the disclaimers remain intact

Disclaimer one: 'Star Wars' is the creation of George Lucas, and is the property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. No profit was, or will be made from this story. Infringements upon copyright and trademark laws are unintentional.

Disclaimer two: 'Riding the Wheel of If' is a story arc created by Terri Hamill. The complete story, and more of Terri's writing can be found At: http://homes.arealcity.com/HiddenRealm/mm/mm.html

Summery: A Jedi's journey between realties continues...

Air decompressed, causing a bang to echo throughout the empty garden. Before the sound had a chance to dissipate, a Jedi appeared, as if materializing out of thin air. Everything went quiet shortly thereafter, as if nothing had happened.

Thumbing off the 'saber, the traveler took a look around. Everything seemed as it should: The lawn was neatly cut. Shrubbery and trees were placed as he remembered. Even the Khimm Tree he had planted years ago remained the same. It even held the birdhouse he hung in it not too long ago. Air-cars and ships flew in the sky, just as they would back home.

Ruthlessly, he pushed back a surge of hope. He dared not hope that this reality be the one. For hope often brought disappointment.

It was early, not long after sunrise. Most everybody was getting out of bed or preparing breakfast. He had planned it this way. There was less of a chance of being seen and causing an incident.

First he stashed his knapsack in an old storage unit. Then he clipped the unique saber to his belt at the small of his back. It would be hidden, yet within quick reach if needed. Pulling the hood of his cloak up to hide his face, Qui-Gon Jinn walked towards the garden's exit, to Master Yoda's apartment.

Yoda was an early riser so Qui-Gon didn't fear waking him. The door opened shortly after he rung the bell. Yoda's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized his visitor.

"Tell me who you are, you will," Yoda said, motioning for Qui-Gon to enter. Sit."

Yoda's rooms were just as he remembered. Everything about the temple seemed as it should. It was becoming difficult to fight back the hope.

Yoda shuffled in to the room and seated himself on a chair. Qui-Gon Knelt down before him, as if he were still a padawan. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, my master."

Yoda's ears laid back in a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Dead Qui-Gon is."

"I am not the Qui-Gon of this reality, of this dimension." Qui-Gon studied his master closely. Opening portions of his mind, he allowed Yoda to sense the truth of his words. "I have been traveling between realties for several months now."

Qui-Gon felt the familiar presence enter his mind through the old training link. "You told me once that it was a world of 'if,' that 'if' ruled all," Qui-Gon said, thinking of the third reality he had visited. That Yoda had pointed to the Khimm tree and used it to compare the many realities. "If a tree died, the world would be different than if the tree had lived."

"Reality is not, relative, reality is, relative to every thing that happens," the old master said, echoing words Qui-Gon heard many times. Yoda paused before continuing, considering his next words. "Much pain I sense in you. Lost much you have. Searching for something you are."

Qui-Gon nodded. He took a deep breath and forced his heart to slow. Convincing Yoda of the truth of was always the easy part. The next part, the question he had to ask was always the hardest, for he feared the answer. This time however, he didn't have to ask.

"Searching for a home you are." Yoda said. "Search for Obi-Wan you do."

"Yes, my Master," Qui-Gon answered. Yoda knew him well. He opened his mouth to ask about his padawan, but Yoda spoke before he.

"Gone Obi-Wan is."

It took a second or two for the full impact of those words to hit. Yoda said his padawan was gone. Not dead, but gone. For the first time in over a month, he allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope. "Where is he?"

"This I do not know," Yoda answered sadly. "Left three months ago he did. Last to see him Mace was.

"What do you mean he left?" Qui-Gon asked, hope being replaced by disappointment. His heart felt like it was sinking. Did he travel all this way, finally found the correct reality, only to find that his Obi-Wan had disappeared? It was a big galaxy. If Obi-Wan didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

"Call Mace I will. Tell us both the whole story you will. Answers we both will have."

As expected, Mace Windu eyes widened with shock upon recognizing Yoda's visitor. For a moment he stared uneasily at Qui-Gon before turning to Yoda for an explanation.

"Qui-Gon he is. Clone this is not."

"How is this possible?" Mace Windu asked. "Qui-Gon is--" The councilor couldn't finish the argument, stopped by a flood of emotions.

"--Dead," Qui-Gon finished for him. "If I understand Master Yoda correctly, I died on Naboo three months ago." He paused thoughtfully before asking a question. "Was he was killed by a Sith Lord? A tattooed Zabrackian?"

Numbly, Mace nodded. This person, whoever he was, shouldn't have known that. It was classified information. "How--"

"I was there," Qui-Gon said. "But not in this reality, not in this dimension. Here it was me who died and Obi-Wan who lives."

Mace was still skeptical.

Qui-Gon opened his mind for a second time that day. He showed Mace and Yoda the images that haunted him every time he closed his eyes: The battle with a red and black figure. The smell of burnt flesh as the Sith's lightsaber sliced his student's body in half. The sound of his own scream as he sliced the Sith down. The smoke and orange flames of Obi-Wan's pyre. The feeling of numbed-emptiness as Anakin took his place at his side, where Obi-Wan belonged. Qui-Gon blinked back tears. "Obi-Wan died believing I had shoved him aside, that I no longer wanted him. Our last words were spoken in anger and hurt. I never got the chance to tell him many things."

Yoda touched Qui-Gon's arm in an offer of strength and support. He felt his old student attempt to push back his emotions. "Let emotions out, Qui-Gon. Release them to the Force. Comfort you, the Force will if you let it."

Not for the first time since he starting this journey, Qui-Gon wept in the arms of his former master.

"It started with Obi-Wan's lightsaber," Qui-Gon answered as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. His voice was calm, a sharp contrast with his emotions. "Mine was destroyed by the Sith. I had been using Obi-Wan's for several weeks and decided it was time to build a new one."

"I tested it in the weapons room," Qui-Gon continued. "I hit the activation switch then found myself in another reality."

Mace felt his scalp prickle. Both he and Yoda exchanged looks. In that instant, Qui-Gon knew there was something they were not telling him.

"I know it sounds farfetched," Qui-Gon said, misinterpreting the silent exchange. "But it's the truth."

"See the weapon, may I?"

Qui-Gon pulled it out from its hiding spot and gave it to Yoda.

"Which of the crystals used you?"

"Deranium sapphires," he answered, getting impatient. He had answered all of their questions. Now it was time to ask his own. He turned to Mace. "Where is Obi-Wan?"

Mace and Yoda exchanged another look, silently debating on how much to tell. Finally, Windu spoke.

"Several months ago, Knight Kenobi vanished from the weapons room while constructing a new lightsaber. I had gone down there to speak with him. After, I went to have a word with the Master of Arms. We heard what sounded like a muffled explosion. We went to investigate and found that Obi-Wan had vanished."

Numb shock spread throughout Qui-Gon's body. After months of searching he found a home, only to find that his Obi-Wan was gone. Not dead, but wondering between dimensions just as he. Was Obi-Wan searching for him? Or was he simply following the will of the Force?

"He took your death hard. We all did," Mace said. "He changed, the spark of life within him died with you. The only thing that kept him going was his promise to train Anakin."

The words cut through Qui-Gon like a knife.

"A promise of him you asked. Your last words to him they were." Yoda's voice was solemn and full of rebuke. "Foolish you were. Foolish you both were. Foolish to hinder love it is. Together love would have brought you, together defeated Sith you would have. Stronger love would have made you."

"A second chance you have. A chance for amends you both have. A rare gift this is." The rebuke left Yoda's voice. He handed the 'saber back to Qui-Gon. "Beware. A high price gifts often come."

The three Jedi Masters stood in the corner of one of the temple's gardens. One was hidden beneath a cowl. The other two had their hoods thrown back. All were solemn.

The sun was low in the east, as it was just past dawn. As usual, the gardens were empty this time of day.

The three had spoken all day yesterday and late into the night. They discussed everything from Anakin's training to Palpatine's involvement with the Sith.

It was now time for Qui-Gon to leave.

"Something else we have for you," Yoda said.

Mace fished it out of a pocket and gave it to Qui-Gon. "Take care of yourself, my friend."

"I will Mace. Thank you," Qui-Gon said as he accepted the gift. He recognized it immediately, for it used to sit on the night-stand beside his bed. It was a small framed holograph of he and Obi-Wan.

The picture had been taken about six years ago. Both stood in front of one of the temple's fountains, arms draped around each other in casual camaraderie.

The picture was identical to the one he remembered in all ways but one: There was a scar on Obi-Wan's cheek. It was a small reminder that the Obi-Wan in the picture was a different person. His Obi-Wan was dead. Nothing could change that. Not even the second chance the Force has granted him.

Qui-Gon reverently tucked it into an inner pocket of his tunic. He then knelt down into the lotus position, the 'saber ready in his hands.

"I wish you could stay. We need you here. Anakin needs you," Mace Windu said.

"Somewhere, there's an Obi-Wan who needs me," Qui-Gon answered. He shouldered his knapsack, which now contained two bottles of root beer as a gift to Obi-Wan when he found him. Both Mace and Yoda assured him that it was Obi-Wan's favorite. Or at least the Obi-Wan of this reality's favorite.

The last thing Qui-Gon heard before activating the saber was Yoda's voice, telling him that the Force would be with him, always.

Qui-Gon Jinn surfaced from his meditation, the transfer complete, the boom still echoing. It was always disconcerting to travel in such a way, but after several months, he had learned how to deal with the physical side effects.

It was the other side effects that troubled him. One would think that each time he switched realties it wold become easier. But it hadn't. It was getting harder to say good-by to a potential home and continue his search. It was getting harder to find that Obi-Wan was dead, in love with someone else, or fallen to the Darkside.

He was getting tired and didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. Only the distant hope promise of a home kept him moving.

With his eyes still closed, he turned the saber off then sunk a hand into a pocket. There, he fingered a holograph. He had already been traveling for several months when he obtained it. Mace and Master Yoda had given the picture to him. How many different realities has it been since then? Sixteen? Or was it seventeen? It was hard to keep track. The different worlds were starting to blend together in his memory, making it impossible to remember.

His hand sought the second item in his pocket: his Padawan's braid.

A lightsaber and a swath of hair were the only physical things left to him of his Obi-Wan, the Obi-Wan of his original reality. That Obi-Wan was gone, killed in battle. But somewhere there was another Obi-Wan. He was sure that Obi-Wan needed him as much as he needed Obi-Wan.

Finally, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked at the ruined garden that lay before him. The grass was tall, the shrubbery wild and unkempt. He looked to where the Khimm tree should have been. It wasn't there, but several older trees that he remembered were. This told him that the temple had been abandoned for over half a century.

Scorch marks lined the garden walls. Derbies lay in scattered heaps. Looking into the sky, he saw that except for the occasional hawk-bat, it was devoid of all traffic.

Two of the temple's pillars were completely gone. The east-most pillar was intact, but charred. The fourth he couldn't see from this viewpoint, but guessed that it had been destroyed as well. The central council pillar had been obliterated, reduced to a stump.

Afterimages of death lingered, permanently woven into the temple's walls. Vague impressions of people fighting carried on the breeze like a scent. Despair, fear, suffering, anger, it was all there, in the air he breathed. Danger was here as well.

Qui-Gon fingered his 'saber's activation switch indecisively. He was anxious to depart. There was nothing here for him, yet something kept him from leaving. Was it simple curiosity? Or was it the Force? Decision made, he tucked the switch 'saber into his belt at his back. It was hidden and within reach, but unlikely to be accidentally activated, stolen or lost.

He unfastened Obi-Wan's 'saber and kept it in hand. Hesitantly, Qui-Gon then walked towards the garden's exit.

It was dark inside. The glow-panels had long since stopped working, but light filtered in through cracks and holes in the walls. Derbies crunched underfoot. In some places the rubble was piled so high that he had to backtrack.

He had no destination in mind. He simply walked where the Force willed him.

Somehow the silence was unnerving. The gardens and arboretums once held the sounds of birds and water but no longer did. There was no hum of the air circulators or outside air traffic. The music of the fountains was gone, replaced by the eerie whistle of the wind.

Worst of all was the sound of the Force. It was silent without the hum of billions of beings. There was a light scattering of people towards the lower levels of the city. But they had a wild, primal aura about them that one encountered only in war-like hunting-gathering societies. Whoever these people were, they lived with the threat of being hunted on such a constant basis that it affected their auras.

After a few ten minuets of traveling, Qui-Gon made his way from the center of the temple to the outer walls where the living quarters use to be. There he hopped to find a window. He was curious to as what the rest of Coruscant looked like. He never made it.

It started with a familiar metal-on-stone sound, almost like metal wheels rolling on pavement. Where had he heard that sound before? It grew louder, obviously moving towards him. He stood there for a moment, listing. What direction was it coming from?

Scalp tingling and hair standing on end, he stood at the intersection of four large halls, trying to decide which direction. The echoes bounced the sound every which way, making it impossible to tell. He couldn't tell how far away they were. The sound was all distorted.

They were on him before he knew it. Destroyer droids, two of them rolled out from behind a distant corner in one hall. Activating Obi-Wan's lightsaber, Qui-Gon wasted no time in touring and running down another hall.

Only to run into a third droid.

It was waiting for him, almost as if the three had set a trap for him. Pushing the impossible thought aside, he deflected a volley of shots. Mindful of the two droids behind him, he used Force enhanced speed to run towards the third destroyer.

If he could get past that one droid, he'd have all three of them on one side, which was preferable to being caught in a crossfire. And if he did that, he might be able to gain enough distance. With distance came time, the few seconds needed to pull out the hidden 'saber and get out of there.

Quicker than the droid, Qui-Gon shot past it. Unfortunately, the first two droids had caught up and opened fire as he ran. He blocked most of the bolts, but one breached his defenses.

It clipped his right shoulder. Had it hit him full in the shoulder, he wouldn't have had an arm left. Never the less, His arm was now useless as bone, nerves, and muscles were charred.

The pain allowed a second breech. It was his left leg. Like the first, it was only a partial hit. But it was enough to slow him down. Only the Force kept him on his feet and moving.

With one arm useless he couldn't pull out the switch 'saber. With the leg damaged he couldn't run with the speed needed to get enough distance. And putting down Obi-Wan's saber was out of the question.

With only one option left, Qui-Gon stood his ground and deflected shots. Picking a droid, he deflected its own, and its two companion's blots to it. Its shields held.

After several minuets, its shields started to flicker. Finally, they gave out and the destroyer exploded. Shrapnel flew in all directions. Several pieces managed to find their way to Qui-Gon, but he didn't notice. His entire attention was focused upon the remaining droids.

He picked another droid and reflected the shots back to it. With one droid gone, there were less shots to deflect, making his task both easier and harder. Easier because didn't have to move as fast to keep up, harder because it'd take a third longer to bring down its shields.

For a split second he was reminded of the last time he saw such droids. Obi-Wan was at his side. Minuets later the Sith appeared.

Minuets after that, Obi-Wan was dead.

Qui-Gon missed a shot. It sizzled past his ear, missing him by millimeters. He was getting tired and couldn't keep this up much longer. Another shot made it past. This one scorched the sleeve of his tunic.

The droids in front of him seemed to blur. He didn't see it when the shields began to flicker.

Finally, the second droid blew, but Qui-Gon wasn't conscious to see it.

Knight Kenobi. The words felt right and true, Qui-Gon reflected as he fingered the braid in his hand. All of Obi-Wan's life had been dedicated to one goal: to become a knight. He finally achieved that goal. He was granted the rank of knight posthumously.

Obi-Wan lay upon the unlit pyre, pale and lifeless. Eyes shut, face peaceful and serene, he looked almost as if he were asleep. But he wasn't. He was dead.

Dressed in a new tunic and cloak, evidence of the deathblow was hidden from view. But Qui-Gon knew. He saw what happened, helpless to do anything but watch as the red blade bisected his student in half.

As his master, the job fell to Qui-Gon. He was to light the pyre. As he gripped the torch in his hand, he wondered if he had the strength to carry out this final duty.

His arm shook as passed the flame over the tender. The fire caught, then spread, slowly enveloping the body.

Heat licked his skin, somehow leaving him cold. Cold and hollow. That was how he felt and no amount of heat could change that.

As he watched the fire, a fact became abundantly clear: he was a failure. For a master to lose a Padawan in battle, there was no higher disgrace. A master was to protect his apprentice, was to sacrifice his own life for that apprentice if need be. Qui-Gon failed to do this.

He felt so cold. Cold and empty. The sound of the flames. The smell of smoke, of burning flesh teased his senses. The feel of heat on his skin, yet the feeling of the cold remained inside. He stared into the flames, watching the fire devour the body within.

"Master?" He heard Obi-Wan's voice.

A tendril of fear slither down his spine. Impossibly, the figure within the fire turned its head and opened its eyes. Blue-gray orbs stared into his. "Master?"

The grayish eyes continued to stare at him, refusing to burn as skin and hair charred. Firelight reflected within the eyes.

"MASTER!"

With a start, Qui-Gon woke from the nightmare, only to find himself within the grasp of another. Obi-Wan's eyes still bore into him. He struggled to get away from the gaze, only to be restrained.

Slowly, he realized that it wasn't a nightmare. It was just another dream. He stopped his struggles and let the dream play out.

"It's okay Master. It's over. It was just a dream," Obi-Wan's voice soothed. Qui-Gon was tempted to believe that it really was Obi-Wan, that he wasn't dead.

"Shh, it's alright now." Obi-Wan's voice sounded distant, as if he was speaking from across a large, empty room.

A cold, wet cloth was pressed to his forehead. It felt good. He was tired. So very tired. Tired and cold.

An arm snaked under his head and shoulders, lifting him up. A cup was held to his lips. "Drink, Master."

The fluid was bitter. He didn't want to drink it.

"Drink it. It will help your fever."

He turned his head to avoid the cup.

"Master, please," Obi-Wan's voice held an edge of worry. "Please drink it."

Even in a dream he couldn't refuse his Padawan. He did as asked, the liquid burning his throat. Moments later, a s econd cup appeared. Qui-Gon didn't hesitate to drink it, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was water.

Still in Obi-Wan's arms, Qui-Gon looked up into grayish-blue eyes. Obi-Wan looked down at him. A tear slid from one eye and Qui-Gon reached up and wiped it a way. That simple gesture brought more tears. No longer able to fight the exhaustion, Qui-Gon's eyes shut.

He slid into sleep, once again leaving Obi-Wan alone, alone to fight his tears. This time, Obi-Wan's tears weren't that of sorrow.

Consciousness came slowly. First he realized he was lying on a mattress. He was tired, but pleasantly so, as if he had just emerged from a meditation. Someone slept next to him, but in his dreamy state he didn't thing anything of it. It felt right. He drifted back to sleep, somehow more content than he had been in months.

Qui-Gon woke again, alone, to the odor of smoke and the popping sound of a campfire. He smelt some kind of meat. For a moment he just laid there starring up at the ceiling. Ceiling? Campfire?

He turned his head, and sure enough, he was laying next to a small campfire in the middle of what looked like an apartment. A smoke hole was cut in the ceiling above the fire. The once white ceiling was black with soot. The hearth was ringed by industrial bricks. A pile of firewood--broken furniture--was stacked against a wall.

Sitting up, Qui-Gon discovered that his shoulder, ribs, and leg were sore. The twinge of pain brought his memories. He was in yet another temple on a deserted Coruscant. There was destroyer droids, three of them. He remembered destroying one, but didn't know what happened to the other two.

Vaguely, he remembered another presence with him before he woke up. There was the smell and sound of fire. He remembered dreaming of Obi-Wan.

Slowly, he climbed to his feet. He was dizzy and his ears rang slightly. Save for half a dozen bandages, he was naked. His arm and leg were mostly healed, but still needed some attention. To his surprise, those two injuries were mild compared to the others. A long, deep, gash decorated his chest. Another was located across two ribs, which he guessed had been broken. Most of the other cuts weren't as deep, but badly infected.

He spied his clothes folded near the bed. They were washed, patched, and mended. Blood stained the fabric, turning large portions of the once beige fabric to a slightly darker color. He winced at the size of the stains.

Fully clothed, he took a closer look at the room. His bed was a foam mat that had been dragged to the middle of the room. Tattered blankets covered it. The hearth was in the middle of the room, ringed by cement blocks. Something that looked like it might have once been a vent grate lay across the coals. A large avian of some sort was barbecuing on the grill. There were no windows, but had a small maintenance door and two vent shafts.

Suddenly, he realized where he was: one of the temple's maintenance storerooms. The room was never intended for human use and was only accessible by the vents and the droid-access door.

It made perfect sense. At a meter and a half tall, and a meter wide, the maintenance tunnels were too small for unfolded destroyers, but big enough for the droids they were designed for. Additionally, the meter-sized vents provided two additional routs of escape should the need arise. Furthermore, most parts of the temple could be accessed through those vents and tunnels.

A beeping sound grabbed his attention. It was a proximity alarm. Someone was approaching. With the Force, he reached out to the approaching person and then staggered back against the wall, stunned.

He thought it was a dream, but it wasn't. He thought Obi-Wan wasn't real.

He felt Obi-Wan answer his mental touch. He had never felt anything so sweet in his life.

Without hesitation, Qui-Gon pushed open the maintenance doors and stooped into the tunnel. The motion hurt his ribs, but he ignored the pain. After a dozen meters, he caught sight of his love.

Sinking to his knees he did nothing but stare for a long moment. He was scared that it was an illusion, scared that Obi-Wan would be suddenly snatched away from him again. He was unable to move, unable to speak and unable to breathe.

He felt dizzy. Finally, he drew a shaky breath. Tears streamed down his face but he didn't notice. Obi-Wan rushed forward and encompassed Qui-Gon in a hug. No words were spoken, as none were needed.

It may have been a few minuets, or a few hours latter, when Obi-Wan spoke. "This tunnel isn't shielded, Master. We should go back." His voice was nothing but a whisper, shaking with emotion.

Reluctantly, Qui-Gon climbed to his feet, but he didn't let go of his Padawan's hand. Now that he found him, he wasn't going to let go.

Once back in the room, Obi-Wan turned the alarm off. Still holding Qui-Gon's hand, he one handedly set a pot of water on the grill. With a fork he then turned over the meat.

Qui-Gon watched the younger man. He was thinner than he remembered, a lot thinner. His hair was longer, and his braid still hung past his ear. Dark circles ringed his eyes and he was pale. He didn't have the same scar that the Obi-Wan in the holograph did, but he had different ones. Most of them were still pinkish, not yet faded to white. His clothes were clean, but patched and mended in most places.

He realized something. If this wasn't the Obi-Wan of the holograph, then there was still another Obi-Wan out there. How many were there? He only knew of two, but what if there were more? Was it possible there was an infinite number of 'ifs'? If there were an infinite number of 'ifs,' than what were the odds of those other Obi-Wans finding a home? One in a hundred? A thousand? A million perhaps?

"How did you did you find me?" Obi-Wan asked, startling him from his thoughts. He pulled Qui-Gon to the bed and they both sat.

"I might ask you the same question." Qui-Gon's lips turned upward in a wry smile. He let go of his hand to finger the braid hanging past his ear. "The Force and a lightsaber brought me. I've been searching through different realities. Is it the same for you?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Master Yoda called them 'ifs.' He said that if a tree died, the world would be different than if the tree had lived."

"Master Yoda just may be the universal constant," Qui-Gon muttered dryly. "How long have you been here, in this reality?"

"Not quite a year. Before that, I had been traveling for about a month." Obi-Wan looked down at his hands for a long moment, suddenly shy.

"Master, there's something--"

"I never meant to--"

Both men started to speak at the same time. With a smile, Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to continue.

"There are things I never got the chance to tell you--I mean my Qui-Gon--before he died." He continued to stare down at his hands for a long moment before gathering his courage. Finally, not able to put any more words together, he opened his mind to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan displayed his memories. First there was Qui-Gon's death. He died in his Padawan's arms. There was the memory of the pyre, and Obi-Wan's promise to Anakin. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan went through the motions of life afterwards, empty and joyless.

All of this was accompanied by the feelings of grief. Anger and hurt shadowed the grief. Qui-Gon knew where the hurt came from, it was the foundation of his own guilt. His anger brought guilt with it; guilt at his anger, guilt of failure and inadequacy.

It was that same guilt that prevented the council from bestowing the rank of knight upon Obi-Wan. This strengthened his feelings of failure.

Then something changed: he built a lightsaber. Obi-Wan's life was no longer empty, but had a purpose. It had a glimmer of hope. It was painful to travel between realities, to say goodbye over and over, but now he had a goal.

Then he was stranded in this reality.

He spent the following year in a struggle for survival. Food was scarce, as there was no supplies or emergency stores left in the temple and surrounding buildings. He had to hunt. Water had to be collected from the city's lower levels, which was dangerous for there were not only occupied by destroyers but scavengers as well.

Qui-Gon winced as the images floated across the bond. His newfound hope was destroyed with the 'saber. He spent the past year alone and in misery. He had resigned himself to finishing his life here.

"Almost a year ago, I came here," Obi-Wan said. He leaned against his Master's side, and Qui-Gon draped his arm around him. "I was curious, so I looked around for a bit. I ran into a patrol of destroyers. Before I could switch out of here, the 'saber was destroyed."

"Master Yoda told me that I was given a second chance. A second chance to correct my mistakes, a second chance at happiness," Obi-Wan continued. "I believed him at first. Then I was stranded here. I thought I was paying penance, that I was in hell."

Qui-Gon tightened his hold on Obi-Wan. What did Obi-Wan believe he was paying penance for? Before he could ask, Obi-Wan answered the unspoken question.

"I was foolish. I should have told you how I felt, but I was afraid. I should have told you that I loved you. I'll understand if you don't feel the same, but--"

Qui-Gon stopped Obi-Wan's words with a slow, deep kiss. "There are things I haven't said as well." He opened his mind, showing his own memories. "You died believing I pushed you aside for Anakin, that I no longer wanted you. You didn't know of my love. You weren't the only one who was afraid. I was terrified. You paid for my fears with your life. We both have a second chance."

Obi-Wan kissed him again, savoring the taste of Qui-Gon's lips. He ran a hand through Qui-Gon's hair, severing the feel of the silky strands. Breathing through his nose, he took in his scent.

Reluctantly, the kiss ended and they separated to look in each other's eyes. Obi-Wan's hand slid from Qui-Gon's head to cup a cheek. Tenderly, he caressed his lips with a thumb. Qui-Gon's skin felt dry and hot. Hot with arousal, but also hot with fever.

Obi-Wan pushed his master gently to the bed. "You need to rest, Master."

Qui-Gon opened his moth to protest, but Obi-Wan's finger on his lips silenced him. "I just found you. I'm not going to loose you again. I gave you something for the pain and fever this morning, but it has worn off."

Qui-Gon vaguely remembered the bitter drink.

"You've been in a healing trance for several days. You're going to need several more." Obi-Wan got up and took the three steps to the hearth. The pot of water was now boiling.

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan dropped something into the water. "What is that?"

"Khimm tree bark. It's for your fever." Obi-Wan hesitated before asking a question. "In your reality, did you and your Obi-Wan ever go to Trovis Minor?"

Qui-Gon smiled at the memory. "Yes we did, ten years ago. You--I mean my Obi-Wan--tripped and tumbled down a hill. I remember it well."

"It's a good thing that thorn-berry thicket broke my fall," Obi-Wan said dryly. "It would have ruined my day if I had rolled off the ledge of that cliff and fallen to my death. I broke my arm and was covered from head to toe in cuts. I got a good opportunity to learn field medicine. I learned about khimm bark that day."

"Did you learn anything else?"

"I learned what poison sumac looks like. What it feels like too."

Qui-Gon laughed, remembering his rash-covered Padawan. The laugh died as an old thought made itself known once again: this Obi-Wan wasn't the same as the one who died months ago. They shared the same genetic makeup, shared similar memories, but were two separate individuals. Or were they?

Through the Force, their auras felt the same. Identical twins and clones didn't share identical auras, as more than a genetic makeup went into an aura. It was shaped by experience and learning. And by the Force.

They both shared the memory of that day. Did this Obi-Wan share all of his Obi-Wan's memories? If This Obi-Wan shared those memories, did that make him the same person as his Obi-Wan? Even if there were slight variations, would they still be the same people?

Obi-Wan was quiet too, Qui-Gon noticed as he watched him tend to their dinner. Was he thinking the same things? Did his own aura feel the same to him as his Qui-Gon's? Was he just as confused as he? Or was he simply reacting to Qui-Gon's suddenly somber mood?

Qui-Gon decided to break the silence. "What kind of bird is that?"

Obi-Wan quirked his lips in a smile that he remembered well. "It's not a bird. It's a hawk-bat."

Qui-Gon tried to not make a face. Hawk-bats were mammalian pests that fed off of granite slugs and garbage. They were known to spread disease and parasites worse than rats or pigeons.

"It's all I have. I have a garden, but nothing is ripe."

Not for the first time, Qui-Gon noted how thin Obi-Wan was.

"It's actually not bad tasting," sarcastic humor dripped from Obi-Wan's voice. He put the meat onto a plate. "It tastes like Noritian chicken, only stringer, chewier and gamier."

Noritian chicken didn't begin to describe the foul-tasting meat. But Qui-Gon was hungry, so he ate. He inched closer to the fire, feeling cold as his fever returned. "Do you want to take a chance and switch tomorrow morning, or wait until I've had a chance to heal up some more? Some of the realities I've visited have been anything but pleasant. We may need to get out of there in a hurry."

"I can't leave, not yet," Obi-Wan said as took the khimm bark drink of the grill to cool. "There's something I need to do first. There's a reason why the Force brought me--us--here."

Qui-Gon stared at the cup of brown liquid, not wanting to drink it. But he could feel his fever growing despite his efforts to squash it with the Force. His skin prickled with cold despite the heat of the fire. Gathering his courage, he downed the drink in one gulp. He had to force back his gagging reflex at the bitter taste.

Obi-Wan chuckled, watching Qui-Gon. He handed him a cup of water.

Qui-Gon downed the water, attempting to wash the taste away. He then took a bite of his meat, replacing one foul taste for another. "Why can't you leave yet?"

"I have to help, to make a difference in this reality," Obi-Wan said. "I'll understand if you don't want to stay. This is my quest, not yours. If--"

"I'm not leaving without you." Qui-Gon was surprised at the fire in his voice. "I want to help. The Force brought me here. This is my quest too. Tell me, what happened to Coruscant?"

Obi-Wan smiled, but somehow didn't seemed relived. A weight seemed to press down on his soul.

"It started about a hundred years ago with invaders from the unknown regions. They call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong. Not much is known about them. Their technology and weaponry is biological based. They are a culture of warriors, and they have an odd sense of honor," Obi-Wan said before tearing a bite off a drumstick. He chewed slowly, giving Qui-Gon time to digest this information before continuing. "The Force is immune to them."

"What?"

"The Force doesn't seen to have anything to do with them. It's almost as if it shuns them. The few I've encountered didn't have a Force signature. You can't detect them through the Force, you can't read them through the Force, and you can't rely on the Force to help you when you deal with them."

"You mentioned scavengers," Qui-Gon said, suddenly not very interested in eating anymore. "I had assumed they were what's left of the populace."

Obi-Wan nodded. "There are groups of the populace left scattered throughout the city. They aren't the scavengers, the Vong are." Obi-Wan paused, to collect his thoughts. "They hunt out and kill, or enslave anyone who is not one of them. They scavenge from both the dead and living. They are trying to survive just as we are, but are still fighting the war."

Invaders from the unknown regions? Beings immune to the Force? How did a planet of billions get reduced to a few thousand? What of the rest of the galaxy? "What's left of the Republic?"

"I don't know. I do know that most of the core worlds fell to the Vong seventy or sixty years ago."

"What happened to the Jedi?"

"Eat, Master. You need your strength," Obi-Wan chided. He didn't need to mention that he didn't know where their next meal was coming from. "I don't know what happened to the Jedi. Information is scarce, especially information after twenty years or so into the war," Obi-Wan said. "About thirty years ago the Empire seemed to collapse in on itself. I don't know why or how. Now the Vong are in as bad of shape as the Republic is."

Qui-Gon forced himself to eat, despite his lack of appetite. "Where do the destroyers fit into this?"

"A group of humans south of the temple say that before the war ended rebels refitted several of Kuat's automated shipyards to manufacture the destroyers. As you know those manufacturing ships are operated by droids and are fitted with hyperdrives. They can be moved to different sources of ore. There were several hundred of those units, producing the destroyers. They are still out there, still manufacturing droids. As far as I can tell, the Vong are having a hard time tracking them down. Few have been destroyed."

Obi-Wan continued. "The Vong's technology is biologically based, so they weren't well equipped to deal with the droids. The droids may have had a big part in the Vong's collapse.

"Then something went wrong," Qui-Gon said.

"The destroyers no longer target only the Vong. They target every living thing, animals, Humans, Wookies, Gands, everything that comes within range of their sensors."

Qui-Gon took another guess. "You plan on destroying the droids?" He was getting sleepy, the medicine taking effect.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I plan on fixing them."

"Think about this carefully, Obi-Wan. In fixing those droids you are instigating genocide. Whether or not they are the enemy, they are living beings." Qui-Gon's eyebrows lowered into a scowl. "It is of the Darkside."

"Genocide? I'm not the one who instigated genocide. You have never encountered a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, seen the hate in their eyes, or seen what they do to their captives." Anger and hatred colored Obi-Wan's voice. He handed a data-pad full of old news articles to Qui-Gon. Post war information was scarce, but the early years of the war were well documented.

"Do you want to know what they did to Naboo? They poisoned the atmosphere, killing billions. Killing not just people, but the whole planet--plants and animals. In the Corellia system they released a genetically engineered virus. On Ettiru they somehow disrupted the gravitational pull of one of its moons. It crashed into the planet. Do you want to know what happened to Alderaan? They altered its ecosystem and turned it into a breeding ground for more of their weapons. The Vong are of the Darkside."

Qui-Gon sighed. Obi-Wan was stubborn and he knew there would be no changing his mind--for now. He was tired and aching, and in no mood to argue. Reluctantly he turned the pad on. After a few moments of skimming through articles, the color drained from his face.

"Open yourself to the Force, Master. Feel the death and emptiness around us. I know this is right," Obi-Wan said. "I understand the consequences of my actions. But you taught me that sometimes the means justify the ends. Once again Master, I'll understand if you chose not to stay," Obi-Wan said. Now that Qui-Gon knew the full ramifications of that choice, the tension and worry in Obi-Wan redoubled.

"I'll stay."

This time when Qui-Gon woke, there were no aches and pains. Pulling his tunic and bandages open, he discovered that his wounds had disappeared into pink scars. The healing trance left him feeling refreshed. The only thing left to contend with was his hunger.

"Good morning, master," Obi-Wan said from next to him on the mattress. Bleary-eyed and sleepy looking, the Padawan looked as if he could use more sleep. "How do you feel?"

"G'morning. I'm Fine, healed. How long was I in the trance?"

"About two days," Obi-Wan answered. Wearily, he sat up and scratched his head then passed a hand over the stubble on his cheeks. "Thirsty?"

Qui-Gon nodded and then Obi-Wan started to climb out of bed. "Stay put. I'll get it. It looks as if you hadn't gotten much sleep."

Gratefully, he sunk back into the bed. "I don't think I've gotten a good night's sleep since you died. Bad dreams. Besides, I have to stay alert incase the alarms go off."

Qui-Gon took the two steps to the cooking area where a bucket of water sat. He ladled himself up a cupful. He was about to take a drink when Obi-Wan stopped him.

"Don't drink that water. Use the smaller bucket. That water hasn't been boiled. Only use it for washing."

"You have to boil the water?"

"You have to be careful 'bout the water you use." He answered sleepily. "You never know if the Vong have done anything to it. The wash water only has chlorine in it. Drinking water is filtered, chlorinated, and boiled. I use rain water when ever I can."

"They poisoned the water?"

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and rolled over onto his side. "Most of the larger reservoirs are poisoned. The water's safe for the Vong, but not for us. 'member the rooftop lake on the Cenra-mall building? Dead animals surround it. Birds and fish mostly, but some have adapted to the poison. Those little tree-rodents can drink the stuff, but they poison the jo'jenie-hawks and whatever else eats them."

"Sleep Obi-Wan. I'll stand watch." Qui-Gon's words were accompanied by a Force suggestion. He drank his cup of water and then moved back to Obi-Wan's side. "Sleep."

Obi-Wan's last words before he slid under was "I've missed you, master. Love You."

"I love you too, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. But Obi-Wan didn't hear it, as he was asleep.

Cross-legged, Qui-Gon sat next to the bed and watched Obi-Wan. He stared at the face for a long time. It looked so much like the student he knew from his own reality. Looking at the soft lips, cleft chin and perfect nose lessened the pain in his heart. When his Obi-Wan died, a piece was ripped from his soul. Now that hole seemed to have been be patched. But the patch wasn't perfect; pain still leaked through. He would never forget, nor did he want to forget the Obi-Wan of his reality.

Qui-Gon laid a kiss upon Obi-Wan's brow, then moved off to rekindle the fire.

After several hours, Obi-Wan woke. He looked bleary, still needing more sleep.

"Good morning." Qui-Gon had no idea if it was morning or night, as he didn't have a chronometer. This part of the temple was cut off from outside light sources, so he couldn't tell that way either. But it sounded like a good thing to say anyway.

"G'morning." Obi-Wan yawned. "What smells so good?"

"Nerf 'n noodles soup."

"Soup? I haven't had soup in a long time."

"Don't get too excited. It's those dehydrated field ration packets you always hated." Qui-Gon momentarily forgot that this was not his Obi-Wan. But it didn't seem to matter.

"A year of eating hawk-bats and granite slugs tend to change a person's tastes." Obi-Wan stretched. "Too bad you don't have any of those ration bars with the crunchy green things in them."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "I seem to remember a certain Padawan who used to call those 'poodoo-bars.'"

Obi-Wan scrambled over from across the bed to sit next to his master. "At the time I thought 'poodoo-bars' was a very fitting name for them."

"That reminds me. I have a surprise for you." Qui-Gon said as he dished out two portions of the soup. Obi-Wan didn't have bowls, so he used cups. "Look in my knapsack. Two glass bottles."

Obi-Wan smiled sheepishly. "I already looked. Root beer. I was hopping you would share."

"You know what that stuff is?" Qui-Gon was once again reminded that this Obi-Wan was different than his own. "Mace and Yoda insisted that I bring some for you as a surprise."

Obi-Wan couldn't answer immediately, for his mouth was wrapped around the spout of a bottle, drinking. "Mmm. Now all I need is a lump of ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Your home reality is deprived. No ice cream or root beer? Ouch."

"Is ice cream anything like quella frost?" Qui-Gon asked after taking a drink of the soup.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Never heard of the stuff."

"Now who's home reality is deprived?"

They talked for a long while, comparing realities. There were little differences, such as the root beer, but the major events and facts seemed the same--exactly the same. Soon Qui-Gon steered the conversation form the past to the present.

"The droids are controlled by the factory ships, and the ships are all slaved together as a collective. So if one ship is destroyed, the droids will continue to function.

"What keeps the Vong from tracing the hyper-com signals?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I'm not sure. It could be one of many factors or a combination. The factory ships are mobile. Relay satellites may be used to bounce the transmissions. Or hyper-com signal tracing may be beyond Vong technology. Maybe they just don't have the resources anymore to find the ships."

"Just how are you going to fix these droids?" Qui-Gon let his disapproval carry over into the tone of his voice.

"I analyzed one of the transmissions. It wasn't very hard to decrypt. The factory ships are Kuat standard, Trevian models. Since they are Kuat standard, slave and override codes should work," Obi-Wan said. "The codes were embedded in the transmission. It's possible to upload a modified program to override the old."

Qui-Gon thought about it for a moment. "It sounds too easy."

"I thought so at first," Obi-Wan said. "You have to remember something about the Yuuzhan Vong. Their culture, their values, their way of thinking is different from ours. And they have a deep-rooted hatred of our technology. I don't think this plan would have occurred to them. Even if it did, I don't know if they'd have the knowledge to initiate it."

At that moment, Qui-Gon realized that Obi-Wan was holding something back. Just how did he come to have such a thorough knowledge of Vong values?

Obi-Wan sighed. "This system was designed to be simple to override incase of a situation such as this. There's only one problem with my plan."

Qui-Gon didn't have to ask. "You don't know much about computer programming." Obi-Wan never had the chance to develop the skill. He simply never had time.

"But you do. You had to learn it for that mission to Bellvus Three."

"That was over twenty years ago. I don't know if I remember any of it." Qui-Gon hesitated. Even if he did, he couldn't allow Obi-Wan's plan. "Show me what you've accomplished so far."

Qui-Gon squeezed through a hole in the wall and emerged into the armory. Qui-Gon couldn't tell what it looked like, for it was pitch-black. They navigated through the dark temple halls and vents with only the Force to guide them. Obi-Wan knew the rout well and moved through the dark with a kind of grace that came with familiarity.

"Here we are. Home away from home," Obi-Wan said following him through the opening.

Qui-Gon noted that Obi-Wan's aura had imprinted itself into the room. Unlike the living area that they had just come from, this place practically glowed with his Force signature. Obviously, Obi-Wan spent more time here than there.

For a moment, Qui-Gon stood with his eyes closed, soaking in the feeling. He took a deep breath. The dry and musty air somehow smelt wonderful.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked, noticing Qui-Gon's sudden change in mood.

Qui-Gon smiled. "Never been better." He reached out into the dark for Obi-Wan. Finding him, he pulled the man closer and hugged him. The hug ended with a deep kiss.

"We have work to do," Obi-Wan said after a long moment. Reluctance was evident in his voice. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can leave this place." The words held an unspoken promise.

Both had agreed to keep their attention on the moment--the here and now--until they were in a safer place. They had only proximity alarms to warn them of approaching danger. Putting all of their faith in old and unreliable technology was suicide. This meant that physical intimacy had to wait until it was safe for their attention to wonder.

Once through the hole, Obi-Wan covered it. From a pocket, he produced candle. He lit it with a command through the Force. The sphere of light reached only a meter, so Qui-Gon still couldn't see the armory.

Moving to the far side of the room, Obi-Wan kneeled down and fiddled with a piece of equipment. There was a soft metallic 'clank,' a small shower of sparks, then the room lit. It was still dim, for only a few glow-rods were hooked to the battery-generator.

The door leading into the armory couldn't be seen, for a pile of debris blocked the entrance. Computers that once lined one wall, were now smashed into bits. Another wall had a large walk-in safe that once held weapons and ammunition, but its door was nowhere to be seen. The room beyond was empty. Most of the other equipment--devises used for making lightsabers--had been destroyed as well.

The only pieces of working equipment he could see lay on the central workbench. Two repaired computers, a hyper-com transmitter and several dozen com-pads. Half-melted candles encircled the work area, to add light to the work spot.

Obi-Wan hooked up another battery-generator and the computers flickered to life. One made an odd, soft ticking sound. As they booted, he lit the candles. Now that there was more light, he realized that one of the 'computers' really wasn't a computer. It was a droid servo-brain encased in a computer case.

"What kind of droid was that?"

"An R-1B astromech," Obi-Wan answered. "R-2's haven't been produced yet. It helps me sift through the computer language."

"And you can't have the droid write the program? An old protocol droid could easily accomplish the task."

"If I can't write this program, I will have to. But I need to make sure the program is sound, has no errors in it and that the fail-safes work. I can't--won't--trust a droid to do this. Not after spending the last year here. I need to prevent this from happening again."

Qui-Gon decided that now was the time to press to subject. "Can you make sure this never happens again, Obi-Wan? Even with a sound program? Can you guarantee against all eventualities? You speak of not allowing a droid to write that program, but yet you are willing to entrust droids to fight a war for you."

"All I could find on Kuat systems are in those com-pads. There is other information about the droids and on programming here as well," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Qui-Gon's comment. "Do I have your help, Master?"

Qui-Gon had hopped that it wouldn't come down to this. "To destroy the droids? Yes. To reprogram them? No. I'm sorry. I can't do that."

Obi-Wan was Quiet as Qui-Gon followed him through the temple. It wasn't an angry silence, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. Upon leaving the armory, Obi-Wan said he had some things that needed to be done and asked if he wanted to go with him. Qui-Gon said yes, and they hadn't spoken another word to each other since.

Was Obi-Wan mad because of his refusal to help? Was he hurt, did he feel betrayed? He didn't know. Usually he could read Obi-Wan's emotions, but at times when a disagreement hung in the air, his Padawan became closed.

At first the temple halls were dark, but soon light filtered in from ahead. Qui-Gon saw that it came from a door-less turbolift shaft. Emergency maintenance lights lit the sides of the tunnel. Some flickered, having almost depleted their energy source.

They climbed down the emergency ladder a few stories and then moved to a vertical tunnel. In the dim light he could occasionally see Obi-Wan's handwriting sprawled on the walls as directions or notes to specific areas of the temple. After a while, he realized they were heading towards one of the open-aired gardens.

The garden of fifty fountains wasn't the same as the garden of a thousand fountains, nor did it have fifty fountains. Qui-Gon didn't know why it was called that, and always thought the name was ridicules. It was larger, older and located lower. Because it was located halfway down the side of the temple, it received less light. The garden's foliage reflected this. Ferns, phosphorescent mosses, tree-fungi dwelled there. It resembled the under-canopy of a jungle.

When they reached the garden, Qui-Gon saw that it was night. For the first time in his life, he saw the stars in the Coruscant sky. The dark was eerie, and that eeriness was punctuated by the sound of the wind.

"I have some animal snares set," Obi-Wan said, breaking the silence. "This is where I get my water too."

They walked down one of the many stone paths. After a few meters they came to the first snare--an old pest trap. It was empty. The next two were empty and the last one had sprung, the bate gone. Without a complaint, Obi-Wan reset the trap and used a bit of dried meat for bate.

"What do these catch?"

"Cat-squirrels."

Qui-Gon remembered that the garden once held many of the squirrels.

The path ended not far from the last trap. A stone bench faced an iron fence, that faced towards the east. They weren't very high in altitude, but had it been light out, they would have been able to see over the roofs of many buildings.

Qui-Gon sat on the bench and Obi-Wan followed suit. "No I'm not mad at you." Obi-Wan answered Qui-Gon's unspoken question from inside the tunnel. "I'm not hurt. I don't feel betrayed. I knew you would never agree to help fix the droids before I even asked. You may not be the Qui-Gon who died in my arms, but you still are Qui-Gon, and I know you. Just as you probably know me."

Obi-Wan was wrong. He didn't know this Obi-wan very well. "The Obi-Wan I knew would stop the droids, not fix them."

"I guess you're right. You probably don't know me. I'm not the same person as I was when I first came here. " Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, thinking. He seemed almost scared to speak. "I told you of how I came to be here, but haven't told you everything."

Qui-Gon put an arm around his shoulder. "Please tell me."

There was another moment of silence. "An hour after I arrived, I encountered two destroyers. They hadn't targeted me yet, they were after two Vong. They had them cornered in one of the gardens."

"I destroyed the droids much the same way you did, by bombarding their shields with return fire. I was injured when the second droid exploded. And couldn't fight the Vong. They repaid me by taking me prisoner and destroying the switch saber, and yours as well. I managed to escape after their camp was hit by droids."

Qui-Gon sensed that there was much Obi-Wan still hadn't told him. "What did they do to you?" Qui-Gon asked, afraid of the answer. "How long were you there?"

"About two weeks. They interrogated me."

Flashes of memories found their way to Qui-Gon. Pain that was previously hidden now surfaced. He winced at the strength of that pain, and wondered how Obi-Wan had managed to hide it from him for so long.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon realized that there was a training bond between them. It felt as if the bond between him and his Obi-Wan had never been severed, the broken ends reconnecting so smoothly that he didn't noticed it until now.

As he had often did when Obi-Wan was a child, he reached across that bond and gave comfort. //Show me.// He hugged Obi-Wan closer, both physically and mentally.

A wordless refusal was the answer.

//Padawan, Obi-Wan, please.//

Reluctantly, the memories burst free and what Qui-Gon saw made him sick. Most of the memories were of a drugged haze of torture and questions about the Jedi, the droids and the locations of other Coruscant refugees. He had access to the Force, but it had been rendered useless against his captors and their tools of torment.

Within the haze, between torments, Obi-Wan witnessed other crimes. Crimes not against him, but to other prisoners. One of which was against a child about Anakin's age. They executed him before his eyes, using him to 'motivate' Obi-Wan. The child's death was not painless or quick. This single memory was more painful than all of the torture combined.

The fog surrounding the memories lifted a day or so before his escape, when they stopped drugging him. Apparently, they had deemed him useless. They were going to execute him, but the droids had infiltrated their camp before they had the chance. The Vong abandoned Obi-Wan to his fate as they fled, believing the droids would finish the execution. He escaped the destroyers and found his way back to the temple.

For a long while Qui-Gon held the younger man as he wept. //Release your pain, your hatred of the Vong to the Force, Obi-Wan.//

//I can't.//

//You can't or you don't want to?// Qui-Gon's tone was gentle but admonishing. He pulled away from the embrace slightly so he could look into Obi-Wan's eyes. He traced a still-pinkish scar on Obi-Wan's neck, realizing now where it came from. //You know where hatred leads.//

As Qui-Gon spoke those words he found himself battling his own hatred. He wanted to hate those who had caused so much pain to Obi-Wan, but couldn't. //We are Jedi, vowed to serve the light of the Force. That service holds no room for hatred.//

Obi-Wan didn't answer. Instead, he held onto Qui-Gon, struggling with his emotions. Qui-Gon could do nothing but hold Obi-Wan. Soon Obi-Wan tired, and Qui-Gon let him slip into sleep. They sat on the bench all night, Qui-Gon watching over Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon held a sleeping Obi-Wan as the sun rose. His cloak wrapped around them both, keeping the chilled air away. Obi-Wan slept peacefully, but Qui-Gon hadn't. He stayed awake, keeping watch and thinking.

Obi-Wan hated the Vong, and had manage to keep this dark emotion hidden, but not for long. That same emotion fueled Obi-Wan's decision to fix the droids rather than destroy them.

Obi-Wan's decision was wrong. This wasn't their war to fight. Fixing those droids was genocide. Jedi only killed in defense.

But what if they were sent here to give humanity--and the other peoples of the Republic--a second chance at survival? By killing the Vong, were they defending what was left of the Republic. Yesterday, before Obi-Wan shared his memories, Qui-Gon had been so sure of his decision to destroy the droids. Now he wasn't.

Was he letting his own emotions guide him, or was he following the will of the Force?

For the first time since he arrived to this reality he saw the city. The beauty of the sunrise contrasted with the ruins that lay before them. Blasted and empty hulks of buildings stretched as far as he could see. Some of the buildings were completely gone, crumbled down to their foundations. Glass and metallic surfaced that once reflected the light were gone, replaced by scotch-marks.

He felt Obi-Wan stir. "Good morning, Padawan." His words startled him. The doubt had vanished. When did he start thinking of this Obi-Wan as his Padawan rather than a stranger who happened to look like his Obi-Wan?

"Hard to believe that Coruscant has been reduced to this," Obi-Wan said, interrupting Qui-Gon's thoughts. His head still rested on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Even after all this time, I still find it hard to believe."

Obi-Wan's hand snaked out from under the shared cloak to pull down Qui-Gon's head. They kissed, slowly and deeply. "Good morning Master."

They sat together, watching the sunrise. This time however, the silence was companionable, enjoyable. Qui-Gon was about to suggest that they find breakfast when Obi-Wan stiffened.

He sat still, his head cocked towards the garden, listening. Reaching out with the Force, Qui-Gon tried to detect the danger. He felt nothing. //What's wrong?//

//Listen.// Obi-Wan's hand drifted to the lighsaber he'd found somewhere within the temple to replace the one the Vong destroyed. //Don't move.//

For a long while he could hear nothing. Then he heard it: a rustling of dry leaves not too far off to the left. Then he heard it again.

//It's a Vong. You can tell by the way you can't sense anything through the Force. To the left, about ten meters.// In front of them was the iron fence. To their right about two meters was the outside wall of the temple. To their left the garden extended for about twenty meters before it ended, bordered by that iron fence and empty air.

The noise had stopped and there was nothing but silence. Obi-Wan shed the cloak. It fell silently to the ground. Qui-Gon freed his own saber.

At an unspoken signal, the two Jedi sprang towards the noise. Working as a single unit as if they had done this on hundreds of missions in the past, they split up and surrounded their would-be attacker.

The Vong had been concealed in the ferns, but had fled to a small clearing to fight. Using some kind of living staff to block Obi-Wan's blows, the being fought well. But the Vong was no match for two Jedi. Obi-Wan batted aside the staff and was about to deliver the killing blow when Qui-Gon blocked it with his own saber. Their sabers locked, a few inches from the Vong's throat.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Obi-Wan's voice was a mix of confusion and anger.

//Look Obi-Wan. Release your anger and look.//

For the first time Obi-Wan saw that this Vong was nothing more than a child. He was sprawled on the ground, a cat-squirrel stolen from one of the traps lay next to him where he had dropped it. Obi-Wan pushed aside his surprise and guilt and lowered his saber, but kept it lit and pointed at his throat. "Are you the one who's been steeling from my snares?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at them coldly, no fear showing in his features.

"You steal my water too?"

"Ka'Torant ure dall tv'Katar," he said, his voice commanding. "Kill me now and be done with it."

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a meaningful look. "We only kill in defense." He turn his saber off and took a few steps back.

"Take your cat-squirrel and leave." Obi-Wan's saber remained lit and pointed towards the Vong-child's throat.

"You Humans are weak. Foolish."

"That may be," Qui-Gon said. His voice was mild, like it usually was when he spoke to children. "But we're not the ones on the ground with a saber pointed at our throats."

For the first time an emotion crossed his eyes. Neither Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon could interpret it. He got up and slowly backed up towards one of the garden's exits. At a meter from the door he turned and ran.

Obi-Wan dropped his saber and sunk to his knees, shaking. "I almost killed a child."

Once again, Qui-Gon fond himself holding Obi-Wan. He was crying, but this time his hatred of the Vong was shed with the tears.

Four weeks later:

Qui-Gon scanned the program for errors. Like the first and second final checks, he spotted none. The program would cause a feedback loop within the cooling units of the droid manufacturing ships. They would overheat and then explode. Without the ships to control the droids, they would cease to function. "It is finished."

Qui-Gon took the data crystal from the computer and handed it to Obi-Wan. Without hesitation, he slid the crystal into the hyper-com unit. However, he didn't press the send button.

Qui-Gon held his breath. This was the last chance for Obi-Wan to change his mind and not destroy the droids.

"If I don't press the button I will be following the dark path, the Dark Side. But at the same time, I will be giving the Republic a second chance--a chance to fight back the Vong, a chance at life," Obi-Wan said. He then pressed the button. "I don't know how the right decision could feel so wrong."

"There are circumstances--reasons--that we may not see. This was the right decision. I know it."

Qui-Gon hugged Obi-Wan. There was an Obi-Wan who died before he got the chance to tell him his feelings. He would never make that mistake again. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I will never forget the Obi-Wan from my reality. I loved him, and always will miss him. Yet you are he. And I love you."

"I love you too."

"On Bandomere, I promised that I would never turn to the Dark Side. But I almost did. I was so close, and yet I didn't know it. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Darkness is often wrapped in good intentions. It's the hardest lesson a Jedi must learn." Qui-Gon tugged on Obi-Wan's Padawan braid. He then ran a hand through Obi-Wan's shoulder length hair. "You need a haircut."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes Master. I will cut it tonight."

Qui-Gon used the end of the braid to tickle Obi-Wan's ear. "Only A master may cut a Padawan braid, Obi-Wan."

Surprised, Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon, speechless.

"Lets hurry up and switch out of this reality, so I can submit my request to the council. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll find a home."

Compressed air caused a boom to echo through the garden. Ka'Lan watched the two humans disappear. As a Vong, it was his duty to report the location of the two humans, but didn't. He was curious, and wanted to learn more. Didn't father always say that it was best to know one's enemy?

But were they his enemy? They didn't kill him that one time when he got caught in the garden stealing from their traps. His father would have said that they didn't kill him because they were weak.

But were they weak? He was easily defeated by them. And he had seen the younger human destroy droids with his Lightsaber.

The Grandfathers came to this part of the Galaxy to conquer it from the demonic humans. The Vong were the rightful rulers of the Galaxy. That's the way it had to be. The humans were weak, honor-less, filthy, demonic, and above all else, they were unworthy.

But those two humans didn't seem so bad. They didn't look so evil even if they were odd.

Were the Grandfathers wrong about the humans? He'd have to think about this. Maybe if they were wrong, he could do something about it. Then maybe the fighting would stop.

Epilogue, a month latter:

The usual bang had echoed throughout the garden at their appearance. But there was no one present to hear it, garden being empty at this time of the morning.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon lifted themselves from the trance, but didn't separate from each other's embrace. They kneeled for a moment, enjoying the morning air. Ships flew overhead, and everything seemed as it should.

"Do you think this is the one?" Obi-Wan asked, finally letting go of Qui-Gon.

"I don't know." Qui-Gon said the words, but couldn't quite believe them. This reality felt right somehow. Could they be home? "Let's go find Master Yoda."

Hand in hand, the two men walked out of the garden and into the temple.

The End