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The Shield Of The Jedi

by Emma Woodhouse (emma_woodhouse_2000@yahoo.com)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Yes, here there be warnings.
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
WARNING NUMBER ONE: RAPE. Non-consensual sex. In chains. By Sidious. Quite a few times.
WARNING NUMBER TWO: OBI-WAN IS FIFTEEN. This story is set ten years prior to TPM, so that makes Obi-Wan fifteen years old. Obi-Wan does NOT have sex with anyone, and there is no ACTUAL underage sex in this story. There is, however, some rather lengthy and graphic consideration of underage sex.
If either of these warnings squicks you badly, you may move along to the next story.
YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE WARNINGS.

Spoilers: Perhaps, for Episodes I, IV, and V. (Has anyone not seen these movies yet?)

Summary: Darth Sidious' nefarious plan did not begin with the blockade of Naboo. Here are some earlier machinations. When the Master is in danger, the brave young Apprentice must come to his aid.

Part I

It was almost a caricature of a dungeon, old and stone and damp and cold. Qui-Gon knew that if he saw this place in one of his Padawan's adventure videos, he would roll his eyes and call it trite. But the reality of the thing was rather different. Trite or not, it was uncomfortable and even a bit intimidating.

The smell, for one thing, was something that never came across in a video. The scent of decay was part normal vegetation decay, something familiar to anyone who had ever worked in a garden. But it was part something else.

And old, old! How long had this structure been standing? Even young Obi-Wan's adventure vids featured dungeons with some signs of technology. Qui-Gon took a deep centering breath and concentrated on being grateful that his Padawan had not accompanied him on this ridiculous abortion of a mission.

Then he tested the chains. They were not heavy chains and looked as if a powerful man could break them over time, or at least pull them loose from the wall, even without the assistance of the Force. But Qui-Gon had been testing that hypothesis for hours and the chains and their fastenings were unharmed.

The room was underground, he sensed, and the only light came from several small slits of windows fifty feet overhead. The windows offered no hope of escape for anything larger than a bird. The door at the top of the stairs was heavy, wooden, and barred. But the immediate problem was the chains. Qui-Gon tried again. He had nothing to work with but brute strength, his lightsaber having been taken from him. Along with his clothing. He was chained standing in the center of the room, arms outstretched. His bare feet were free, though he saw chains looped against the wall beside low brackets.

The metal restraints holding his wrists felt cold, colder than the air in the dungeon, and contact with his flesh had not warmed them at all. Qui-Gon sensed that there was something else at work here, some unknown perversion of the Force that gave these chains more strength than normal metal.

Qui-Gon tensed at a grating sound from overhead as the huge door slowly opened. Turning his head, he saw someone creeping down the stairs. This was promising. Perhaps he could reason with the jailer, or compel his release.

The creature approaching him was dressed all in black. His hood was thrown back to reveal a human male of average size, perhaps mid-twenties. His long dark hair had needed a good wash for some time. When he looked at Qui-Gon, his face was carefully blank.

"Hello," Qui-Gon said.

No answer.

Qui-Gon waved one hand, as well as he could in the manacles. "You've come to release me, haven't you?"

Still no answer. The young man darted a quick contemptuous look at the captive and then went to the chains attached to the wall. Picking up one, he dragged it over to the center of the room and fastened the manacle around Qui-Gon's ankle. Well, this was not a step in the right direction.

But as the young man straightened up, Qui-Gon noticed something interesting. A lightsaber! This thoroughly unimpressive young lout had a lightsaber attached to his belt! It wasn't Qui-Gon's, either. Truly disturbing.

Now the young man went across the room and bent to fetch the other chain. Qui-Gon reached out with the Force, seeking to call the lightsaber to his hand. With a lightsaber he could be free is several quick strokes.

Nothing happened. The young man was returning now with the other chain. Qui-Gon bowed his head in frustration. There must be a Force-dampening shield in place around this dungeon. Obviously not as primitive as he had believed.

"Who are you?" he asked the young man. "Why am I here?"

And still no answer. It seemed persuasion wasn't going to work, either.

"Surely I've been brought here for a reason," Qui-Gon said, with a great show of calm reasonableness. "Whatever the issue is, there's no harm in discussing it."

The second manacle was in place and the young man looked up at Qui-Gon. Pulling back his lips, he snarled angrily. Then he stood, turned, and pointed at the braziers on the wall. Flames leaped up at his gesture and the room brightened in the smoky light.

With one last glare at Qui-Gon, the mysterious young man went back up the stairs and exited, closing the door with a decisive boom.

Qui-Gon considered the implication of what he had just seen. That was Force manipulation. So the entire room was not Force-dampened. Something must be interfering with his own powers.

But who in their right mind would teach Force manipulation to a man such as that? Whatever strength in the Force the young man had, Qui-Gon had not seen so much as a glimmer of intelligence. The situation was even more dangerous than he had realized.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried to meditate, tried to connect with the Living Force.

After a short time, the grating sound told him the door was opening again. Wearily, he turned his head. A figure in black stood at the head of the stairs. Human? Impossible to say, the figure was cloaked and hooded.

"Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn." There was great satisfaction in the voice. It was a strange voice, oddly hollow and rather oily.

Qui-Gon raised his head proudly. "That's right. I fear you have me at a disadvantage."

He was greeted with laughter. "Oh, that's an understatement! Are you seeking my name?"

"If you would be so kind."

"Well, since I doubt if you would be willing to call me Master... yet... you may call me Lord Sidious. Darth Sidious."

"It's beautiful!" Obi-Wan breathed reverently, turning the green crystal in his hand. He held it up to the light and tried not to feel too covetous.

Master Lendar chuckled. "You have a good eye," he said. "A beautiful crystal indeed. Something like that comes along once in a generation. Here, look at this."

He took the crystal from Obi-Wan and put it on the workbench, handing the apprentice an examining glass. "Notice how tight the latticework is. That tells you the power."

Obi-Wan sat back and sighed. "If that's still available when I get my knight's saber..." But his knighthood, he knew, was at least a decade away.

The saber-master shook his head regretfully. "A crystal like this won't go waiting for a new owner for long. That's a master's-grade crystal, that is."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "Well, I was glad I got the opportunity to see it, at least. Will you let me know who takes the crystal? I'd like to watch the lightsaber in action."

"Of course I will," Lendar assured him. "I'd like to watch that myself. Well, we're finished here. Thank you for your assistance."

Obi-Wan left the workshop and stopped by the Administration offices to pick up Master Windu's correspondence. Mace Windu had taken Obi-Wan under his wing when Master Qui-Gon had been sent on an assignment without his apprentice.

While Obi-Wan had tried not to take the situation personally, it had rankled a bit. He had been late being chosen as a Padawan, in fact almost missed being selected, and traces of the diffident student waiting with ebbing hopes for a Master still lingered in the back of his mind.

"Qui-Gon wanted to take you along, but the Council overrode him," Mace had told Obi-Wan when he found him moping in the library.

The way the young apprentice's face lit up was almost painful to see. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Mace said. "But it's a ticklish situation."

"Master Qui-Gon said it was classified," Obi-Wan said.

"It is," Mace agreed. "I can tell you this, though. The situation involves a spectacularly stupid adult who got himself embroiled in a spectacularly stupid scandal. We might want to let him stew in his own juice, but he's also a very powerful stupid adult and very useful to the Jedi, so your Master was sent to bail him out." Mace chuckled at the memory. "And he wasn't at all happy about it, either."

"He sure wasn't!" Obi-Wan said, remembering Qui-Gon's thunderous scowl as he packed to leave.

Mace clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "Tell you what. Why don't you work for me until your Master returns? I could use a temporary Padawan."

Obi-Wan had beamed at him and agreed readily. He liked Master Mace Windu, who was Qui-Gon's best friend. Qui-Gon had been saying privately that it was about time Mace took on a Padawan of his own, so Obi-Wan was being the best Padawan he knew how to be, as an advertisement of the apprenticed state.

Now he buzzed at the door of Master Windu's apartment and brought in the afternoon correspondence. Mace grunted a thanks, and then looked up at Obi-Wan with a sudden scowl.

"That robe is far too small for you," he said.

Obi-Wan looked down at his brown cloak and blushed slightly. "It's only six months old," he said apologetically. "I've been having a growth spurt."

"I'll say you have! And did Qui-Gon notice?" Mace asked rhetorically. "No, of course he didn't. Come on, let's get you down to Stores."

Obi-Wan trotted after Master Windu, feeling that he should defend his own Master. "Master Qui-Gon doesn't think a lot about appearances," he said.

"That's true enough," Mace said. "I must say, he's been looking a bit more presentable since he took on a Padawan. What do you do with his worn out clothes, anyway? Burn them?"

"I tell him the laundry lost them, or mixed them up with the healers' reds and they came back all pink," Obi-Wan confessed.

Mace roared with laughter. "Whatever it takes!"

Now Obi-Wan was standing in front of a mirror, turning this way and that, looking doubtfully at his reflection. "I don't know," he said at last. "Don't you think it might be a bit on the large side?"

"Trust me, Obi-Wan, I know these growth spurts," Mace told him. "I'd estimate you've got about another four inches to go before you slow down again. Now let's look at tunics."

Within an hour, Obi-Wan was completely re-outfitted. The robe was on the large side, but the tunics and leggings fit him perfectly. Have to have a good fit to fight in them, Mace said.

As they left the Stores burdened with bundles, Obi-Wan stopped short with a thoughtful frown.

Mace turned to him, curious. "Obi-Wan?"

"It's Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said. "He's angry."

"Can you really sense him?" Mace asked in surprise. "He's in ... quite a distance away."

"It certainly feels like him," Obi-Wan said. "And he's angry."

"Oh, that's all right," Mace said easily. "No doubt he's meeting with Prince Pa... the stupid adult right now."

"Maybe that's it," Obi-Wan said. But he was worried.

Darth Sidious? DARTH Sidious? Qui-Gon made a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. "While I can't see your face, you seem to me to be past the age of adolescent rebellion," he told the man in black.

Sidious chuckled. "Oh, yes, well past."

"So why this Sith posturing?" Qui-Gon asked. Everyone knew that the Sith had been destroyed a thousand years ago. Part of it had been the Jedi's doing and part sheer self-destructiveness. Sith were like the fighting dogs bred in the Outer Rim, unable to keep from fighting until eventually they destroyed themselves.

Oh, there were clubs on the lower levels of Coruscant that used the name Sith in their titles, purely for shock value. And some Padawans went through a rebellious phase where they wore black in their off-duty hours and called themselves Sith, but it was juvenile nonsense that they quickly grew out of.

Sidious was drifting down the stairs now. "You don't believe in the Sith?"

"I don't believe that there is anything like true Sith, not in this day and age," Qui-Gon told him. "Some misguided fools might call themselves Sith, but..."

Something unseen hit him in the face, hard.

"You have much to learn, Master Jedi," Sidious said calmly.

"Perhaps," Qui-Gon agreed neutrally. He tasted blood in his mouth.

Sidious approached the chained man. "And this is your first lesson," he said. "Who is the most powerful of the Jedi?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. It seemed a perfectly foolish question. "I have no idea," he said.

Sidious laughed again, that hideous cackle. "Of course, you have no idea! Because it's been kept from you. So I will tell you. YOU, Qui-Gon Jinn, are the most powerful of the Jedi."

Qui-Gon was unimpressed. "What precisely do you mean by powerful?" he asked.

"I mean precisely what the word means," Sidious said impatiently. "The most powerful, the most able to change things, to change people, to change the galaxy!"

Qui-Gon shrugged.

"Does that mean nothing to you?" Sidious asked.

No answer.

"And why is it, Master Jedi, that you are not on the Council?"

"I don't desire a seat on the Council," Qui-Gon said.

"But has one ever been offered to you?" Sidious asked. Qui-Gon was silent and Sidious laughed. "Of course not. Put the lion to sit with the sheep? You will never sit on the Council, Qui-Gon Jinn. Does that bother you?"

"No," Qui-Gon answered. It was true. He was uninterested in the Council with its emphasis on politics, and greatly preferred field work.

"Bah!" Sidious waved a hand under Qui-Gon's nose and turned away impatiently. After a moment he turned back and continued. "It is so," he said. "You are truly indifferent to your power. Therefore, I propose to take it from you."

Part II

Qui-Gon tried not to let Sidious see how worried he was. Being held captive by a madman was one thing. But his inexplicable inability to connect with the Force was truly worrisome.

"So you're going to take my power?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, yes, in due time," Sidious answered. He was circling Qui-Gon, seeming to study him intently. Qui-Gon wished he could see under the hood. The voice was vaguely familiar. Surely this man wasn't someone he knew!

"Where is Prince Palomar?" he asked.

Sidious laughed. "I presume he's in his chambers on Philitee, as stupid and blameless as ever."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes wearily. So not only had the Council sent him on a fool's errand, the entire issue had been a hoax. "The forged documents were quite convincing," he told Sidious.

"Thank you."

"So you're a Sith?"

"Yes!" Sidious snapped. "And don't think I don't sense your skepticism."

"I'm willing to learn," Qui-Gon answered mildly. "How did you become a Sith?"

"By being apprenticed, as has been the case for a thousand years, from Darth Bane to today."

"The Sith have hid themselves well," Qui-Gon said politely. "The Jedi have no knowledge of them."

Sidious chuckled. "Yes, I know. That is because Darth Bane, sole survivor of the Jedi-Sith War, was a very wise man. He decreed that there would only be two Sith at a time, a Master and an Apprentice, until our time has come again."

"And what became of your Master?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I destroyed him, of course. As my apprentice will no doubt destroy me, if the time of our return does not occur in my lifetime. That is the way of things."

"The young man I saw earlier?"

Sidious sighed. "Not much, is he? But what can I do, I ask you, when all the promising Force-sensitives are immediately claimed by the Jedi?"

"It is a problem," Qui-Gon said with insincere sympathy.

"But not an insoluble one," Sidious said, and gave a cackle of delight.

He was behind Qui-Gon now and Qui-Gon tensed when he felt hands on his shoulders. The hands moved over his back, hips and buttocks, and Qui-Gon shuddered.

But he was utterly unprepared when the hands tightened on his hips, and he felt a sudden sharp penetration of his anus. Surprise made him cry out in pain. Sidious chuckled in his ear and Qui-Gon bit his lip to prevent more sound from escaping.

The intruder retreated, only to thrust again, harder and deeper. The thrusts came faster, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain. It doesn't matter, he told himself. He's not touching you, not the real you. In his mind he repeated a Jedi chant, sounds without meaning, over and over.

The assault seemed to go on for a long time, but eventually Sidious gave a heavy grunt of satisfaction and withdrew. Qui-Gon suspected that some of the liquid running down his leg was blood, but he wasn't going to look.

In a weary voice he asked, "Is that supposed to rob me of my power?"

Sidious laughed. "Oh, no. That was just for entertainment purposes." He stroked Qui-Gon's buttocks and said with false sympathy, "Perhaps you should rest. Tomorrow we'll really get down to work."

Then he raised his voice, calling, "Cur!"

The door at the top of the stairs opened and the young man hurried down.

Sidious pointed to a stone ledge against the wall and directed, "Secure our guest, if you would be so kind."

The young man (was his name really Cur, Qui-Gon wondered) nodded, and began to unfasten Qui-Gon's chains. Qui-Gon thought this might be an opportunity to escape, since neither of his captors seemed particularly muscular. But when his arms were lowered, he staggered and almost fell, biting back a scream as the blood rushed back into his arms.

Sidious made a tsking sound. "I must be more careful," he said. "It would be a shame if you were to lose the use of your arms. At least until I'm finished, and then you'll have no need for your arms or anything else."

Qui-Gon shook his head trying to clear his mind, but the pain was too great and by the time he managed to regain control of himself, he was chained again, this time to the stone ledge.

Sidious inspected his captive and nodded approval. Then he turned and left, Cur at his heels. A few moments later, Cur returned with a pitcher of stale water and a loaf of petrified bread. He set the repast beside the ledge where Qui-Gon was reclining, and turned to go. As he left, he gestured again to the braziers on the wall, and the fires were extinguished.

Qui-Gon was alone in the cold and the dark.

Obi-Wan sat up in bed with a scream of protest. The first faint traces of dawn were visible through the window. He shook his head sharply to clear it of the vestiges of sleep. Qui-Gon was in danger!

He hugged his knees for a moment, trying to figure out how he knew that. But he just did, that was all. In danger and in pain and Obi-Wan had better notify someone so they could help.

He slipped out of bed and went to the commlink on the wall, keying it for Master Windu's quarters.

"Yes?" Master Windu sounded alert. Obi-Wan was thankful he hadn't woken the man up.

"Master Windu? It's Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Obi-Wan? You're up early."

"Yes, sir. It was the pain that woke me up."

"Pain?" Windu sounded urgent. "Obi-Wan, are you ill?"

"No, Master," Obi-Wan said. "It wasn't my pain. It was Master Qui-Gon's. He's in danger, sir. We have to help him."

There was a long silence while Obi-Wan jittered impatiently. Then Windu said, "I'll be right over."

Obi-Wan was waiting in the reception area of the Council Chamber. He had been questioned closely by Force adepts, seeking clarification of his claim that Master Qui-Gon Jinn was in danger. Obi-Wan was rather embarrassed at how little information he could give them. That was really all he knew. Danger and pain. They had also asked a lot of questions that seemed irrelevant to Obi-Wan, such as how long he'd been a Padawan and if his Master had ever been on a mission without him. Two years, Obi-Wan had told them, and no, this was the first time.

Now the most sensitive members of the Council were meeting in closed session, feeling the Force and seeking guidance.

Mace Windu was being very nice about the whole situation, Obi-Wan thought. He had hastened to Obi-Wan's quarters and listened patiently as the apprentice told him that Qui-Gon was in danger. Several times he'd gently asked Obi-Wan if he was sure it hadn't been a nightmare. But as Obi-Wan grew more and more insistent, he had agreed to notify the Council. Now he waited with Obi-Wan to see what the Council said. He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't worry. If there's a problem, they'll find it. That's what they do."

Obi-Wan nodded miserably. Everything seemed to be taking so long.

Finally the door opened and the five Council members emerged. Obi-Wan jumped to his feet, with Mace following more sedately.

"Well?" Obi-Wan asked eagerly.

"No danger could we find," Yoda said flatly.

"But that's not possible!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

Mace put a restraining hand on the lad's shoulder. "What did you see, Master Yoda?" he asked respectfully.

"Little at all," the old Jedi admitted. "Far away is Qui-Gon. Clouded is the Force."

"So it's possible that he IS in danger!" Obi-Wan insisted.

"Many things are possible," Yoda said cryptically.

As the Council members filed out of the antechamber, Obi-Wan heard someone whisper something about 'padawan separation anxiety.' He flushed and bit his lip.

Now it was just Obi-Wan, Mace, and Yoda. Mace turned to Yoda and bowed low. "With your permission, Master Yoda, I'd like to send an express to Philitee. We can ask that Qui-Gon send us an immediate update on the situation."

Yoda bowed his head in approval and left the room.

Mace turned to Obi-Wan. "We should have the express to Qui-Gon in several days," he said gently. Seeing Obi-Wan's mutinous expression, he continued, "That's really the best we can do, son. The strongest powers of the Council have found no danger."

"I felt pain," Obi-Wan said stubbornly.

"And perhaps there was pain," Mace admitted, though the odds of an apprentice feeling his Master's pain from Philitee to Coruscant were infinitesimal. "But who knows what that means? Perhaps Qui-Gon twisted his ankle. He wouldn't thank us if we sent in a full-scale rescue operation and ruined his mission for something like that. Would he?"

"I suppose not," Obi-Wan admitted. He wished the feeling he'd had was more specific.

Mace promised to keep Obi-Wan updated on any new information and the young apprentice tried to turn to his daily tasks.

He certainly had plenty of material for his afternoon meditation. "Padawan Separation Anxiety"? Did a lot padawans freak out the first time their masters went somewhere without them? If so, he wished someone would have warned him. Had he made a fool of himself?

Obi-Wan had always had the sense that his adoration of his Master went well beyond the norm. He did his best to hide the extent of his devotion, fearing that such powerful emotion would be considered excessive and un-Jedi. Now he tried to center himself and find calm. But he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Qui-Gon really was in danger. But still, he reminded himself, if there was danger surely Master Yoda would have seen it.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes wearily at the grating sound of the door. Cur was back, lighting the braziers with that uncanny Force ability and carrying several objects down the stairs. One appeared to be a small refrigeration unit and the other was a box.

Qui-Gon watched him warily. He'd eaten most of the bread during the night and wondered why he felt so weak. He hadn't been captive for that long and his senses told him that the bread and water were untainted.

He was beginning to think there might be something in Sidious' mad claim that a remnant of the Sith had survived. During the night he'd searched his memory for every Jedi he had ever known, trying to match the man's voice. He had come to the conclusion that Sidious had never been a Jedi. So he had obviously learned Force manipulation somewhere else. And where else was there these days? Only the Jedi Temples.

It was, he supposed, possible that a Sith lord could have survived the ancient war, as Sidious claimed. And also possible that the lord had trained an apprentice, a tradition that continued for a thousand years. It was a disturbing possibility. In that thousand years, who knows what new skills and procedures these secret Sith might have developed?

He had to escape from this place somehow. But why did he feel so weak?

"Good morning!" The oily voice told him that Darth Sidious was back. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like a baby," Qui-Gon assured the black-clad figure.

"Excellent! Cur, if you would be so kind as to replace our guest in his customary position?"

The young man followed his master's orders, unlocking Qui-Gon from the restraints on the stone bench and hauling him to the center of the room. Qui-Gon attempted to explode into action the moment the restraints were loosened, but something held him and prevented him from attacking his handler.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Sidious chided, sliding down the stairs. "Let's not be uncooperative." Qui-Gon felt an invisible punch to his kidneys and gasped at the pain. He was being shackled in the center of the room again and there didn't seem to be a thing he could do about it. Force, he was weak as a kitten!

"Now!" Sidious purred with approval, running a possessive hand over Qui-Gon's back. He turned and said abruptly, "That will be all, Cur."

Cur looked disappointed, but left without a word. Perhaps he couldn't speak, Qui-Gon speculated.

"Oh, he speaks," Sidious said, walking around the chains to face him. Qui-Gon lifted his head with surprise. Sidious nodded with satisfaction. "Oh, yes, your thoughts are as bare to me as your ... rather impressive body. Yes, Cur speaks. Occasionally. He really doesn't have a lot to say."

Qui-Gon managed a weak chuckle. "I think your chain of Sith has a weak link, Lord Sidious. Can you imagine Cur training his own apprentice?"

"Of course not!" Sidious said. "Which is why I intend to find a more worthy apprentice."

"Surely you don't think that I would ..." Qui-Gon began.

But Sidious interrupted him with a burst of laughter. Something struck Qui-Gon in the face again. "Oh, no!" Sidious said, once he had gained control of his laughter. "No, I am not such a fool as to think you would make an appropriate apprentice. A powerful Dark Lord you would be, to be sure. But I'm not in such a hurry to die."

"Then what do you want with me?"

"Oh, you're going to help me. I'm going to grow my own crop of potential apprentices, and you're going to help."

"I am?"

"You are. Willingly or not." Now Sidious was stroking Qui-Gon's chest and Qui-Gon tried to pull away but was restrained by the chains. A hand slipped down to caress and cradle his balls. "Yes, if the Jedi insist on taking all the likely candidates in the Republic, I'll just have to produce candidates of my own beyond the reach of the Republic."

Now his hand was moving up Qui-Gon's penis, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes in horror as he felt his flesh respond to the touch.

He tried to school his body to remain passive. He thought about all the disgusting, ugly things he could think of. But his body seemed to have a will of its own and in short order he was fully erect.

Sidious moved away then and Qui-Gon opened his eyes. The Sith Lord had opened the box and removed something. He turned back to his bound captive and fastened the sheath over Qui-Gon's penis.

Qui-Gon struggled futilely as Sidious watched with interest. "The idea of fathering a new generation of Sith does not appeal to you?"

"No, it does not," Qui-Gon said. He was pulling on the chains. Perhaps if he pulled hard enough, he could injure himself enough to pass out. He'd be damned if he was going to come in that thing!

"Hmm. Well then, what does appeal to you?" Sidious asked softly. After a pause, he said with great meaning, "I understand you have a young apprentice."

Oh, Force, no!

Part III

Sidious saw Qui-Gon's reaction and laughed. "Oh, yes," he said smoothly. "It caused a great deal of interest within the Order, didn't it? Qui-Gon Jinn takes a new apprentice, after swearing for years he would never have another?" He moved around behind Qui-Gon, still keeping a firm grasp on the Jedi's erection, and hissed into his ear. "Tell me. Is he... so VERY beautiful?"

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and tried to answer calmly. "He is a very bright, brave, and kind-hearted young man."

"And beautiful?" Sidious persisted.

"And beautiful," Qui-Gon admitted.

Sidious laughed with delight. "Now you speak the truth, Jedi Master. Ah yes, I can see him in your mind. Beautiful, indeed! So tell me this. Is his beauty something that has only now occurred to you? Or is it something that you've been trying very hard not to think about?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer. In truth, though he had accepted the boy for his bravery and kindness, the young man's developing beauty was beginning to make Qui-Gon uncomfortable. On occasion, he had even allowed himself to wonder what might happen once Obi-Wan came of age. But he reminded himself sternly that he was already fifty and that young Obi-Wan had a long and valuable life ahead of him, and that such yearnings were sheer selfish foolishness.

It was disastrous that Sidious had uncovered those thoughts. And now the Sith Lord intended to use them against him.

"Oh, yes," the Dark Lord breathed into his ear. "Trying so hard not to think about it, aren't you? But I want you to think about it. Why shouldn't you? What harm can thoughts do? Oh, and he is SO lovely!"

Now came the sudden sharp pain of penetration and Qui-Gon bit his lip to remain silent. His erection wilted a bit, giving him hope that he could withstand this, but several impatient jerks had him fully erect again.

The whisper came again. "Obi-Wan," Sidious said enticingly. "He could be yours, you know. He IS yours." The thrusting began and the hand was moving along his cock and without his volition Qui-Gon's hips were moving with the rhythm.

"What if he were here right now?" the whisper continued. "See him there, kneeling in front of you. His eyes are filled with love and devotion. He wants you, Master Jedi, wants to take you into his mouth, wants to worship you with his lips and tongue and hands..."

Qui-Gon was lost now, lost in the seductive vision of his beautiful apprentice wanting him, wanting his love. He whispered, "Obi-Wan," as he thrust into the Dark Lord's hand, seeing those enticing lips opening to engulf him. "Obi-Wan, oh, my love!"

How long he swam in that delicious dream, Qui-Gon never knew. But when he came, it was the most intense orgasm of his life as he screamed, "OBI-WAN!"

Obi-Wan had redoubled his efforts to be the perfect padawan. There were many tasks to perform, because Mace Windu, though only thirty, was on his way to becoming a Very Important Jedi. He currently served as Manager for the Jedi Council, and most informed sources expressed confidence that the next seat on the Council would be Windu's.

A Council Manager is a busy man. Obi-Wan spent much of the day running completed projects and projects needing completion from one end of the Temple to the other. As he went about his tasks, he also worked on the issue of overcoming Padawan Separation Anxiety.

As if a Jedi Master as powerful as Qui-Gon Jinn would need his help! Whatever the secret and scandalous problem was, surely Master Qui-Gon had it firmly under control. Why, Prince Palomar had asked for Qui-Gon by name, having worked with him before and knowing the Master's great diplomatic skills.

So Obi-Wan told himself, and was almost beginning to believe it.

But then, late in the afternoon, Obi-Wan stumbled to a halt in the Great Hall, overwhelmed by the anguished cry that only he could hear. It had been Qui-Gon's voice, and what he had called out was "OBI-WAN!"

Obi-Wan bent down and retrieved the scattered files he had dropped, his mind racing furiously. That was NOT his imagination. No, Qui-Gon was in trouble, and something had to be done about it.

But what? Obi-Wan considered going back to the Jedi Council. But he remembered the skepticism he'd met with this morning and knew that he had no proof that would convince them. Going to the Council would get him, if anything, a trip to the mind healers and more delay in getting help to Qui-Gon.

It was HIS name that Qui-Gon had called. Obi-Wan straightened his spine and resolved to do whatever he could. He might be only a fifteen-year-old apprentice, but he would help Qui-Gon or die in the attempt.

None of this determination showed on his face as he delivered the files to the Records Office and exchanged a few bantering words with the clerks there. Having been hiding his feelings for Qui-Gon for two years, Obi-Wan excelled at presenting a placid face to the world.

Leaving Records, he detoured down six levels and over to another corridor. He was on the Qui-Gon project now, and projecting the thought, 'I am not important; don't notice me, don't wonder what I'm doing.' He passed many people, but all hurried on their way, busy with their own thoughts.

At the door to the Saber Workshop he reached out with the Force, seeking information. The shop was empty, so Obi-Wan slipped inside. He was glad he'd been helping Master Lendar, because now he knew where everything was stored and didn't have to blunder about searching.

Obi-Wan reasoned that the two main things he needed to go to Qui-Gon's aid were weapons and transportation. He had his own lightsaber, of course, but powered with a student-grade crystal, it was lethal perhaps, but seriously underpowered for any real combat situation. Now Obi-Wan crossed the room and went unerringly to the cabinet where Master Lendar had stored the green master's-grade crystal. The crystal was there just as he'd seen it last, and it came to his hand so readily that he could almost imagine that the crystal itself wanted to come with him.

He stored it in an inner pocket, slipped out of the shop and headed back to his quarters.

Transportation. The only thing Obi-Wan could think of was a Temple shuttle. Pokey and underpowered; how far could he get before the shuttle's absence was noticed? Still, he had to try. He set to work throwing together a bundle of items for his trip.

Obi-Wan didn't really know where Qui-Gon was. But he knew he could find him. When he stood still and closed his eyes, he could point in the direction he needed to go. Once in space and off the rotating planet, that sense would help him plot his course.

With his mind made up and his plans, though imperfect, underway, Obi-Wan had time to consider the consequences of his actions. He had just stolen a master's crystal! He felt a sense of fatalism as he realized that he was probably going to be ejected from the Jedi for this latest adventure.

Obi-Wan had skated on the thin edge of expulsion before. He had come close to not even making it to Padawan. Goaded by a rival into losing his temper, he'd been deemed unsuitable for knighthood training and banished to the Agricorps. His expulsion then had been rescinded following some hair-raising adventures and with the intervention of Master Qui-Gon.

Even after being accepted as Qui-Gon's Padawan, Obi-Wan had gone against Jedi regulations and forged his own path several times. Each time it had seemed that this time surely he had gone too far. Obi-Wan remembered the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he wondered whether he would be ejected. He'd been at the Temple since his infancy and in training to be a Jedi knight all his life. This was what he was born to do, what he lived for. How could he give that up?

But how could he not, if that was the price for saving Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan could still sense Qui-Gon's emotions, not all the time, but fading in and out like a faulty commlink. It hurt him to feel his Master's emotions, the pain and fear and a deep shame.

He had to find Qui-Gon, had to get there somehow. He was just about to creep down to the Temple hangars when he heard voices and faded back down a side corridor. Peering around the corner, he saw Mace Windu escorting a distinguished silver haired man. Obi-Wan recognized Senator Valorum, a powerful man and good friend to the Jedi. Valorum was saying, "... to Dagobah for the hunting while the Senate is in recess, but I couldn't pass up an invitation to dine with Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. It seemed that the Force was with him. Senator Valorum was highly influential, even among his colleagues in the Senate, holding the post of Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. Before his senatorial career, he'd been Admiral of the Republic Fleet and before that a fighter pilot and squadron leader. He moved around Coruscant in the limoships his rank commanded, but preferred to travel off-world in his own small and speedy yacht.

Obi-Wan changed course and made his way to the Temple's landing pad. And sure enough there it was, sitting sleek and unguarded. He felt a moment's hesitation, a small voice asking him, 'are you REALLY going to steal the Senator's yacht?' But he reminded the small voice that he'd already stolen a master's crystal and the Order couldn't very well kick him out more than once.

Within moments he was inside the yacht checking over the instruments, preparing for takeoff. The yacht was newer and faster than the Temple shuttles but the instruments were quite similar, and Obi-Wan was in space before he even had time to worry about it.

The commlink buzzed, ground personnel asking for course information, but Obi-Wan ignored them. Now he closed his eyes and asked his senses for Qui-Gon's direction. He entered the information in the navigation computer, plotting a course that avoided population centers along his route.

Before the commlink could become too insistent, Obi-Wan took the yacht into hyperspace, becoming untraceable.

Qui-Gon shook his head, groggy and confused. Where was Obi-Wan? Hadn't he been here just a moment ago? No, perhaps not. It seemed he was still chained in this stone chamber, so how could Obi-Wan have been here? It must have been a dream.

The lunatic in the black robe was standing in front of him now, chuckling with satisfaction as he removed something from Qui-Gon's penis. Looking down, Qui-Gon saw that the sheath contained a small amount of white liquid. He felt lethargic, but a strange sense of dread was stealing over him.

The Dark Lord turned from his captive, opening the refrigeration unit and dropping the sheath into a vial. "Very nice," he purred, as he replaced the vial in the unit amid a puff of icy steam. "One potential apprentice accounted for. I wonder how many more my Jedi lion is good for before the Force-inhibitors eventually sap his life away?"

Turning back to the chained Jedi master, he ran his hands appreciatively over the broad chest. "If it weren't so dangerous, I'd be tempted to keep you for a pet, Master Jedi. Ah well, if I succeed in my plans, I can use the son as I used the father."

Qui-Gon looked at him with confusion. What son? He had no son. Then he thought of the liquid now stored in a refrigerated vial and understood Sidious' plan. He pulled futilely on the chains, which caused Sidious to crow with delight. "Oh, you don't like that idea, do you? If you wish to preserve your offspring from my service, you should control your ejaculation. Surely you can do that. Can't you?"

Long fingers were pinching and tickling his nipples now and Qui-Gon felt himself growing warm. He bit his lip hard, trying to use pain to replace his growing arousal. His balls were being stroked cleverly, sending waves of pleasure through him. A voice whispered, "Ah, if only young Obi-Wan were here! And if he were, would you be ready for him?"

Feather-light touches whispered over his growing erection. "Obi-Wan would want you to be ready," Sidious whispered. "He would do anything to please you, wouldn't he?"

The reality of the stone chamber was fading and this time Qui-Gon barely felt the penetration as the Dark Lord entered his body. "It's late," came the whisper, "and you should return to your quarters. Obi-Wan is waiting for you."

Qui-Gon dimly saw the corridor outside his quarters, and opened the door.

"He has followed your instructions to the letter," the silken voice told him. "There he is now, on your bed. He is naked and blindfolded, as instructed, and he is face down waiting to serve you, his legs spread and knees drawn up to present his sweet little ass for your pleasure."

"Approach him!" the voice urged, and Qui-Gon drew closer to the bed where Obi-Wan waited for him.

"Look at that enticing little pucker," Sidious purred. "See how it gleams? He's prepared himself for you. Picture it, Master Jedi, the dear boy naked, spreading his legs and stroking into himself with fingers coated with sweet oil, in anticipation of your taking. See how he trembles now! Is it fear or desire? Reach between his legs, find his quivering cock. Ah, feel! How hard, how needy, ah, how he craves his master's possession!"

"He's waiting for you, Jedi! Take him, he would beg if not instructed to silence! Take him!"

Qui-Gon thrust with his hips, feeling his cock snuggly surrounded by warm flesh. "Obi-Wan," he whispered with adoration. "Oh, my Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan sat in the cabin of the small luxury yacht. He had replaced the crystal in his lightsaber. Then he scouted the cupboards and found some dried meat suitable for camping and hunting trips. He gnawed on a few strips while double-checking his coordinates.

He sensed that Qui-Gon was several days distant even at top speed, and worried what might happen in the meantime. But he had done everything he could and should rest for whatever lay at the end of this journey. Obi-Wan curled up in the small bunk and tried to sleep. Several times, drifting in and out of sleep, he thought he heard his Master whispering his name. The whisper strengthened his resolve.

Let them kick him out of the Jedi Order, he thought sleepily. This was the most important mission he'd ever been on in his life. Maybe it was his whole purpose in life. Just let him save Qui-Gon and he would be content.

Part IV

Yoda's chamber was an island of serenity in the seething hive of the Temple. Master Yoda sat in his chair, drawing imaginary pictures on the tiled floor with his stick, while Senator Valorum sat at his ease sipping a cup of tea.

Mace knocked briefly and entered the chamber. "Well, we've confirmed that the only Temple resident neither present nor accounted for is Padawan Kenobi," he told the two.

Yoda sighed sadly. Valorum raised his eyebrows in elegant surprise. "Obi-Wan Kenobi? Qui-Gon's Padawan?"

"That's the one," Mace said.

"I've met the lad," the Senator said. "He seems a bright, hardworking young man, not the type to skylark about on a joyride."

"If responsible for taking the yacht he is, to skylark is not his motive," Yoda said positively.

Mace nodded and turned to the Senator. "Obi-Wan came to us this morning with a story about Qui-Gon being in danger. Our Sensitives couldn't find any evidence that his concerns had any basis in fact. But he seemed to accept that! If he was truly this disturbed by his fears for Qui-Gon, how did we miss that?"

"Miss things we do," Yoda murmured.

Another rapid knock and Master Lendar joined them with a quick bow to Master Yoda. "Your pardon, Masters, Senator, but I thought you should know. There's a lightsaber crystal missing from my workshop. A Master's grade crystal. Obi-Wan was admiring it just yesterday."

Yoda and Mace exchanged worried looks.

"After Qui-Gon he has gone," Yoda said.

"Can we trace him?" Mace wondered.

Valorum gave a quick snort of laughter. "Trace MY yacht? I don't think so."

Cur was just placing Qui-Gon in the upright restraints as Darth Sidious swept down the stairs. He frowned at his captive in displeasure and ran a finger thoughtfully over the red stripes on the Jedi's back.

"Freelancing, Cur?"

Cur shrugged. "Fun," he said sullenly.

An invisible blow tossed him across the room. He hit the wall and slid down, shaking his head stupidly.

Sidious continued his inventory of his prisoner's injuries, the bruises on the face, chest and arms, and the fresh blood seeping from between his legs.

Suddenly Cur found himself lifted off the ground, held by his throat by a force he couldn't see. He gasped for air as Sidious stalked over to him. "I will tell you WHEN and HOW you will have fun, you worthless dog!" Sidious hissed. Cur nodded and tried to speak, but the grip on his throat made speech impossible. "This is a valuable prisoner," Sidious went on, "and extremely important to plans that are far beyond your pathetic comprehension. If my plans have been damaged by your fun, you will thank me when I finally allow you to die!"

Cur was shaken in the air a few times for emphasis and dropped onto the stone floor. He landed on his rear and whined loudly, then began to gasp out a few abject apologies. Sidious waved him to silence. "Oh, shut up, Cur. And clean this man up. I have no wish to soil myself."

Cur nodded and started for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Sidious barked.

"A... rag?" Cur said.

"Use your tongue, man, you certainly don't need it for any flights of eloquence!"

Cur nodded and crept back to the center of the room.

Qui-Gon shivered as something warm and wet dragged across his back. He had spent the last night fading in and out of consciousness. Unconscious was better. He had vague memories of pain, of beatings for no reason other than the amusement of a half-wit, of being forced face down on the stone slab and penetrated with great roughness to the sound of idiot laughter.

Now he saw he was upright and chained again, and his black cloaked tormenter had returned. The Dark Lord stood in front of him. So someone else must be behind him. The tongue moved down his back and now he felt the soft wet stroking on the inside of his thighs.

Sidious checked the contents of the cold-storage unit and sighed with satisfaction. "Ah, ten little apprentices," he cooed. "Let's add to their number, shall we?"

He turned back to Qui-Gon and ran his hands over the Jedi's chest, murmuring appreciatively. The hands behind Qui-Gon parted his ass cheeks and the tongue was moving between them, soft and warm and arousing.

"Dear little Obi-Wan, he would do anything for his Master, wouldn't he?" Sidious asked.

Obi-Wan? Was that... Obi-Wan? Qui-Gon felt a rush of love and desire at the thought of his Obi-Wan touching him so intimately. The tongue was probing his anus and Qui-Gon grunted with arousal and pressed back against it. Sidious fastened something over Qui-Gon's penis and Qui-Gon felt a momentary alarm; there was some reason he shouldn't want that. But the tongue continued teasing and it felt so good!

"Keep it up, boy," Sidious snapped over Qui-Gon's shoulder, and Qui-Gon was moving his hips, back against the tongue and forward into the Dark Lord's hand. He wished the Dark Lord weren't here, but it didn't seem to matter with Obi-Wan loving him like this.

When he came crying out Obi-Wan's name, Sidious threw back his head and howled with laughter.

"You may go, boy," Sidious said curtly and Qui-Gon wearily turned his head, hoping to get at least a glimpse of his love, and recoiled in shock at the sight of Cur slinking up the stairs, a stupid grin on his ill-favored features.

Qui-Gon slumped down in his chains. He wished he were dead, not for the first time in this nightmare captivity, but certainly with the most fervor.

Sidious laughed. "That wasn't a very nice trick to play, was it?" he asked softly. He was stowing a vial in the cooler and returned to Qui-Gon with another sheath. "I think you're good for one more at least today," he said. "And why don't I make it up to you? Let's return to the Temple. Won't that be nice? The Temple, where Obi-Wan is yours."

He waved his hand in front of Qui-Gon's face and whispered, "The Temple. Dinner time. You should go to the Masters' Table, we have a special treat in store for you today."

As he spoke, Sidious was stroking and pinching, arousing Qui-Gon again, but what Qui-Gon saw was the corridor outside the Dining Hall.

"Go on in," the voice whispered. "Everyone is waiting for you."

Qui-Gon entered the Dining Hall.

"You can't even see your table, the crowd around it is so thick, all the Jedi Masters of the Temple, all standing and watching the table. Your friend Mace turns and sees you and calls to the others to make way for you, and the crowd parts and you go to your place and you see him. Obi-Wan."

Dimly Qui-Gon felt the penetration and the hand around his erection, but he was too lost in the vision to care.

"Yes, Obi-Wan. There on the table, naked and waiting for you. His legs are spread wide, and he is quite erect. You can feel the waves of envy from the others, but Obi-Wan is yours and only yours and this ritual will seal it."

"Look at him fondle himself, the little tease! He knows they want him, he knows that only you can have him! See how he tickles his nipples and strokes slowly along his hard, hot cock! He is squirming with desire, desire for you, wanting this so badly, the seal of your possession."

"As you approach your place, he moans, he calls for his Master. He raises his hips so you can see that he is prepared for you, that he needs you to claim him, take him."

Qui-Gon was panting now, thrusting with his hips.

"Yes! Move closer. Open your trousers and place those charming legs over your shoulders. The room is hot, the air thick with the scent of sex, and the group moans in unison as you thrust into your Padawan, claiming him publicly as your own."

Qui-Gon groaned aloud, thrusting faster into the moist heat. His head was swimming.

"Thrust into him, strongly, powerfully! Yes, he is yours, only yours for life. He knows it, he loves it, he pushes back against you, crying out for his Master's seed, his Master's mark within him!"

Qui-Gon threw back his head and howled loudly as he came, feeling Obi-Wan writhing beneath him. Then he hung heavily from his chains, panting harshly. His eyes were closed.

Someone was stroking him, telling him that he was wonderful, strong and powerful. A glass of water was presented to his lips and he drank thirstily.

Then the voice said something gleeful about twelve little apprentices. He felt himself being removed from the chains, but was far too weak to even consider escaping. Within moments he was chained to the bench, where he lay in total exhaustion.

Footsteps receded up the stairs and faintly from above the voice said, "Touch him again and die, Cur," as the great door slammed.

Qui-Gon drowsed. He was still in the Dining Hall. His apprentice lay before him on the table, smiling a sweet, sated smile, while his friends clapped him on the back and congratulated him on his possession of such a fine Padawan. But he ignored them all, still dazed by the beauty of his young love, spread out before him in shameless glory, his belly slick with his own come, his beautiful cock limp and resting.

Qui-Gon sat down in his chair and leaned over Obi-Wan, stroking his sweaty limbs. He lowered his head and began to lick up his lover's come, reveling in the taste and the knowledge that his dear one's desire matched his own. The crowd grew hushed as Qui-Gon licked Obi-Wan's cock, nudging it back to life, until it was as erect and eager as it had been moments before.

Someone murmured something about the strength of youth, but Qui-Gon ignored them, fondling his young lover's balls and sucking at his needy cock until Obi-Wan was squirming beneath him, begging in soft gasps, and Qui-Gon stood suddenly and thrust into him again.

Obi-Wan thrashed and screamed, pleading for relief, and Qui-Gon took his cock in his hand, working it roughly in time with his thrusts until Obi-Wan was coming again, coming with Qui-Gon, and the two shouted their release until the rafters rang, and they were together, they were together forever.

The Jedi Council was in session when Council Manager Mace Windu entered the room abruptly, without seeking and being granted leave to enter. Yoda looked up sharply at the young human. His ears twitched curiously, but he said nothing.

"Your pardon, Masters, but you really need to see this," Mace said, holding up a data chip. "The reply to our express to Philatee."

Plo Koon leaned forward alertly. "What does Qui-Gon say?"

Mace was trying to project Jedi calm, but his jaw was tight as he replied, "Qui-Gon isn't there. You'll see."

The holo-projector snapped on and an image of Prince Palomar appeared. The Prince sat at his desk, looking rotund, self-satisfied, and slightly curious.

"Greetings to Council Manager Mace Windu," he said formally. "I have received from you an express message for Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and am at a loss on how to proceed. Master Jinn is not here. Nor were we expecting him. Is there a previous message gone astray? When was Qui-Gon to come here and for what purpose? Please advise."

The projection faded as the message ended. There was a long silence, Jedi Masters exchanging concerned glances.

Finally, Adi Gallia said worriedly, "But the message asking for Qui-Gon's assistance was from Prince Palomar! Wasn't it?"

"Apparently not," Yaddle said.

"Tricked we have been," Yoda said. His ears drooped.

"So, where is Qui-Gon?" Koon asked.

"Where, indeed," Mace said.

"Right was Obi-Wan," Yoda said suddenly.

"And where is HE?" Koon asked. "Can he find Qui-Gon, do you think?"

The council members debated fruitlessly, as Mace bowed silently and left the Council Chamber. He returned to his office and went to the window, scanning the darkened city and clenching his fists.

His best friend was out there somewhere. In danger and in pain, Obi-Wan had said. And the only help on the way was a half-trained teenager in a stolen yacht.

Part V

Obi-Wan was almost there; he could feel it. Though there is no day and night in space, by Coruscant time he'd spent two nights and a day on the journey. First he'd slept, worn out by worry, and then he'd woken to fret. He tried to imagine what he'd find at journey's end and how he would deal with it, but had too little information to even guess what he was up again.

To pass the time, he practiced his explanation to Mace and Master Yoda about why he simply had to take the Senator's yacht. Each attempt sounded weaker than the last, as he imagined the adults chastising him for not coming to them for help. "But I tried that, and you wouldn't listen!" Obi-Wan told them mentally, and cringed to realize how immature he sounded. Accept it, he told himself glumly, your career as a Jedi is toast.

He wondered if he could find some sort of employment on Coruscant and perhaps be allowed to see Qui-Gon occasionally. That would make it all worthwhile. Assuming Qui-Gon survived whatever was happening to him. Obi-Wan bit his lip and told himself sternly that he was NOT going to cry.

And now he was almost there. He'd spent a restless night, waking frequently to the mental sound of his name being called. What worried him was that the calls were becoming fainter, though he could tell he was closer. Whatever that meant, he didn't think it was a good thing.

He rose from the small bunk and looked over his gear. He took his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. He waved it experimentally a few times. Then he took a stance and went through various moves. He could feel the power of it, but it was touchy. Compared to his student's saber, it was like trying to control a thoroughbred racing beast when used to controlling a plow animal.

An alarm in the cockpit chimed, telling Obi-Wan that he was reaching the end of his plotted course. He scrambled to the front of the ship and began reviewing the sensors. The ship was approaching a planet. The computer told him the planet was heavily forested and currently uninhabited. Centuries ago, it had been the home of a back-to-nature cult. What happened to the cultists was not on record.

Obi-Wan set sensors to finest resolution, but the sensors detected no sign of force fields or alarm triggers. The equipment in Senator Valorum's yacht was state-of-the-art. If they said there were no alarms, Obi-Wan was willing to bank on that. So at least he'd have the element of surprise. He didn't have many advantages, but at least there was that.

He skimmed into the planet's atmosphere, flying on manual now, letting his own senses lead him to Qui-Gon. Eventually, he spotted a structure in the distance. Skirting it cautiously, he examined it on high-resolution.

The building was stone, rather like a castle. It was half-overgrown with vines. A place had been cleared to one side, and a small ship was occupying the clearing.

So here's the plan. Obi-Wan realized that he didn't really have a plan. He tried to think of one, wracking his brain to remember how the heroes of his favorite vids crept into strongholds. But he couldn't concentrate. A sense of urgency was pushing him. Get in there and get Qui-Gon out!

Finally he had to give in to the urge. Setting down stealthily on a dry stream bed close to the castle, he crept out, lightsaber in hand. It occurred to him now that he was frightened. What exactly did he think he was doing?

His cloak snagged on a trailing thorny vine and he stopped to untangle it. Was he out of his mind? These people, whoever they were, they'd somehow captured and kept a Jedi Master! How was a dorky little apprentice supposed to go up against that?

"They're not expecting me," he murmured, trying to hearten himself for what was ahead.

His cloak snagged again. Obi-Wan sighed and bent to untangle it. "Whose bright idea was this anyway?" he grumbled. Untangling the cloak, he removed it and wrapped it around his left arm. There. Sort of a shield.

He was almost to the castle now. He reached out with his senses. Several lifeforms. He couldn't quite tell how many. Qui-Gon was there. Faint. Much too faint. Obi-Wan gulped and sent out a quick plea that he not be too late.

Reaching the clearing, he crouched under the shrubbery. One big double door, big enough to permit a speeder entry, and a small people-sized door.

So. Here's the plan. He still didn't have a plan.

Finally, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and began running toward the smaller door, igniting his lightsaber as he ran. Reaching the door, he slashed downward at the latch, and the door flew backward off its hinges with a boom. Obi-Wan was inside. The interior showed a large central hall, with stairs going up, and a large barred door opposite.

A young man dressed in black turned and gaped at him. Obi-Wan steadied his lightsaber, pointing it at the man, and demanded, "Where's Qui-Gon Jinn?"

He didn't really expect an answer. What he expected was for the villain to draw a blaster, so he was taken aback when the man drew a lightsaber. A lightsaber! A Jedi weapon!

His opponent rushed him, the blade of his saber glowing violent orange. Obi-Wan parried the first clumsy stroke, marveling unwillingly at what an ugly lightsaber the stranger had.

He had an ugly fighting style as well. Trained by Jedi in an art developed over thousands of years, Obi-Wan expected the wielder of a lightsaber to at least have some notion of what he was doing, but the stranger swung his saber like a meat cleaver. After the first mad rush, his entire side was vulnerable to Obi-Wan's blade, but Obi-Wan was hesitant. He didn't want to kill this man, he wanted to subdue and disarm him.

Obi-Wan moved into a classic disarming sweep, but his aim was destroyed when he was unexpectedly struck on the back. Stunned, he turned to see that his assailant was a wooden chair. Now the entire contents of the room were in motion and Obi-Wan backed against the wall, fending off the attacking furniture. His mind was whirling at this turn of events. Force manipulation. What in the galaxy was going on here?

Most of the furniture had been reduced to kindling and Obi-Wan had regained his composure. Deflecting flying objects was a common exercise at the Temple and he easily fell into the appropriate moves. His opponent was snarling with frustration and now Obi-Wan moved away from the wall, going on the offensive. He realized with regret that disarming and tying up this strange man was not going to be an option, not if he had telekinetic abilities.

The opponents met again in the center of the room. Obi-Wan was now adding his own flying objects to the mix, and was elated when a whirling stool connected with his opponent's shoulder. Off balance now, the stranger was falling forward, lightsaber aimed at Obi-Wan's head. The green blade met the orange, and the green was more powerful. So great was Obi-Wan's momentum that his blade broke right through his opponent's blade, and continued on through his opponent's body.

Obi-Wan jumped back as the man fell forward in a rush of blood. The room filled with the clatter of falling objects and then grew still. He could hear nothing now but his own breathing.

Obi-Wan was shaking, overdosing on adrenaline, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, searching for Qui-Gon.

There. Below. Behind that door.

Obi-Wan jumped over his fallen opponent and pulled back the heavy bar on the door. He found a staircase circling down into a chamber dimly lit by small windows.

He started down the staircase cautiously and picked up his pace as he heard a faint groan.

"Qui-Gon?

" A faint clanking sound and a faint, hoarse, "Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan was running now. He'd found his Master.

Qui-Gon was lying on a stone ledge built into the side of the wall. He was trying to sit up as his apprentice reached him, and Obi-Wan identified the clanking sound. His Master was chained to the ledge!

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber to gain more light and gasped at the sight of his Master's bruised and bloody face. He tried to sound resolute, tried not to show how appalled and frightened he was. "I'm here, Master. We're getting out of here."

His hands were shaking as he examined the manacles on Qui-Gon's wrists. They were made of a thick, heavy metal. Obi-Wan was afraid to try to cut them, as unnerved as he was, so he sliced through the chains. Then he moved down the ledge and cut the chains attached to Qui-Gon's ankles.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

"I'll have to," Qui-Gon whispered with difficulty. He threw his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan shuddered uncontrollably when the manacle touched his shoulder, but stood up, helping Qui-Gon to his feet.

As they moved into the center of the room, Obi-Wan realized that Qui-Gon was completely naked. His entire body was as bruised and bloody as his face. Obi-Wan unfurled his robe and slipped it around Qui-Gon's shoulders. He had never felt so angry. He wanted to punish the people responsible for this.

Helping Qui-Gon across the room, he asked, "Master, who's done this to you? What do they want?"

He urged Qui-Gon toward the steps but Qui-Gon pulled back suddenly. "Wait," he rasped.

"What?"

Qui-Gon pointed shakily to a small refrigeration unit on a table. "That cooler. Destroy it."

Obi-Wan looked up at his Master, hoping for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. He gently released Qui-Gon, who sank to his knees. Then he walked over to the table and struck the unit with his lightsaber. The unit fell into pieces, sparking and steaming. A cluster of small glass vials scattered from the cooler and fell to the floor. They rolled in all directions.

"Smash the vials," Qui-Gon said weakly.

The look in his eyes was enough reason for Obi-Wan, who went from vial to vial, stamping on them.

"Did you get them all?"

"I smashed eleven," Obi-Wan said. "I don't see any more."

"There were twelve," Qui-Gon answered.

Obi-Wan stood in the center of the room, turning in a circle, looking for the missing vial. Maybe Qui-Gon was mistaken? "Is it really important?" he asked after a few moments of fruitless search.

"Yes!"

"Well, I don't see... Oh, wait a minute. It rolled under the ledge there." He was relieved. Now he could smash the thing and get them out of here. Obi-Wan went over to the ledge and reached down for the vial.

But the vial leaped from the floor and through the air, eluding him. For a brief instant, Obi-Wan stared at the spot where the vial had been. Then he jumped, as braziers in the walls came suddenly to life with a flaring, smoky light.

Whirling, Obi-Wan saw a figure cloaked in black on the landing at the top of the stairs. Instinctively he leaped, flipping over his Master to place himself between Qui-Gon and this new threat, igniting his lightsaber in midair.

The black-cloaked figure held the twelfth vial and chuckled down at him. "Well, well, well. Obi-Wan Kenobi. So charmed. I didn't expect to actually get to meet you."

Obi-Wan stared defiantly up at him. "Who are you?"

"Oh, that's not important," the man said. "But I must confess that you're not precisely how I pictured you."

"No?" Behind him, Obi-Wan sensed Qui-Gon struggling to his feet.

"No. I had expecting the old lion to be rearing a cub, but here I find an eaglet!" A lightsaber ignited in the stranger's hand, glowing red. He began to slowly descend the stairs. Obi-Wan gripped his lightsaber and stood ready.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said with difficulty. "The vial! Destroy it!"

The man came to a sharp halt. Head to one side, he considered the situation. "Ah, Master Jedi, would you leave me with no souvenir of our little encounter? How selfish of you. And yet, the vial is vulnerable, is it not? Perhaps I should protect it."

He began to retreat backward up the steps. At the head of the stairs he stopped and said in a commanding voice, "Qui-Gon Jinn!" Qui-Gon raised his head to look at him and he waved his hand. "There is really no need for you to be troubled by memories of what went on here, is there?"

Qui-Gon murmured, "No need..."

And the stranger turned and darted out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Go after him!" Qui-Gon urged his apprentice. "Stop him!"

"And leave you here?" Obi-Wan protested. "Master Qui-Gon, what is in the vial?"

Qui-Gon stopped, a sad, puzzled look on his face. "I... don't know."

"I met another man upstairs and ... killed him. Were there just the two, or are there others?"

Again Qui-Gon said, "I don't know."

"Well then, I'm certainly not leaving you here!" Obi-Wan said positively. He took Qui-Gon's arm and pulled it over his shoulder, and put his arm around Qui-Gon's waist. Qui-Gon was almost double the young apprentice's weight, but with the assistance of the Force Obi-Wan got them to the head of the stairs.

Their fleeing adversary had bolted the door but Obi-Wan's lightsaber blasted through it in seconds. They reached the outside door of the castle in time to see the small spacecraft taking off.

Obi-Wan shivered. "Master, who was that man?"

There was a long silence. Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon, and wanted to cry at the look in his Master's eyes.

Qui-Gon lowered his head and whispered in wonder, "I don't know."

Part VI

It took over an hour for Obi-Wan to help Qui-Gon back to the Senator's yacht. He tried to speak encouragingly and not let Qui-Gon see how worried he was. What could have happened in the space of four days to have made his Master so weak?

Finally they arrived and Obi-Wan assisted Qui-Gon to a chair and then raced to the cockpit. He checked the sensors and slammed the console in frustration. No ships in sensor range. Was the bastard who'd treated Qui-Gon so badly going to get away with it?

Obi-Wan knew he would just have to report to the Council and hope they could find some clue. But it was a wide galaxy.

A faint "Obi-Wan?" brought him back into the yacht's living area. Qui-Gon looked at him beseechingly, holding up his hands, the wrists still circled with manacles and trailing bits of chain. "These... feel bad," he said.

"Oh!" Obi-Wan said. "Right. Let's get those off."

He sat down beside Qui-Gon and drew his lightsaber, shortening the blade and igniting it. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at the sight of the green blade and Obi-Wan said briefly, "Got an upgrade," and took one of Qui-Gon's hands.

He gasped at the feel of the manacle. His stomach roiled and he feared for a moment that he would be sick. The metal was cold, cold as space between galaxies, and he felt a heavy weight of helplessness, hopelessness.

Shaking his head to try to throw off the feeling, he set to work cutting through the peculiar metal. It took him almost five minutes and he was thankful for the green crystal. His student's blade would have taken hours for this work. Finally the first manacle was off and Obi-Wan threw it across the room with an exclamation of disgust.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, reluctant to tackle the next one. But then he realized, Qui-Gon is WEARING those diseased things. Guiltily, he opened his eyes and turned back to his Master. Qui-Gon managed a faint smile and said, "Better." He held out his other hand and Obi-Wan got back to work.

Carefully burning through the second, he bit his lip, refusing to allow the tears that wanted to fall at the sight of his Master's torn and bruised wrists.

Now he knelt at Qui-Gon's feet and set to work on the ankle manacles. His stomach was in open rebellion and he wondered if he'd ever want to eat again.

Speaking through the bile in his throat, he suggested, "These things. They're Force inhibitors, aren't they?"

"I think so," Qui-Gon said. "I'm starting to feel... a bit better."

The third manacle was off. Obi-Wan went to work on the fourth and last. "How long have you been wearing these?" he asked. It would certainly explain the weakness. Obi-Wan couldn't even imagine what it would feel like, cut off from the Force for days on end.

"I can't remember," Qui-Gon said sadly. "I don't know what happened. I can't remember... much of anything, really. Not since leaving Coruscant."

And now the last manacle was flung across the floor. Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "Ahhhhh!" So good! It felt so good, he was alive again.

Obi-Wan remained kneeling for a moment, not wanting his Master to see the tears in his eyes. One tear escaped and landed on Qui-Gon's foot. He reached out to the circle of cuts on Qui-Gon's ankle, but was afraid to touch it.

He stood up decisively and said, "Let's get out of here. You get some rest." He took Qui-Gon's hand and hauled him to his feet, helping him over to the bunk. Qui-Gon sank down on the bunk, stretched out and was instantly asleep. Obi-Wan tenderly covered Qui-Gon with his robe and went back to the cockpit to get them underway.

Back into space! After chafing at Qui-Gon's backseat driving on other occasions, he rather wished for a few wry comments this time, but he was on his own.

Obi-Wan set the coordinates for Coruscant, calculated the jump to hyperspace, initiated it, and leaned back in the pilot seat. He had done it, he'd actually done it! He ought to feel more of a sense of triumph, but it was hard to manage, with his Master in such condition.

Obi-Wan went back into the living area. He crouched down beside his sleeping Master and watched him sleep for several minutes. Then he stood and went back to the small galley and found warm water, a soft cloth and a first aid kit. Returning to Qui-Gon's side, he hesitated for a moment before gently drawing back the robe.

Qui-Gon slept on. Obi-Wan was grateful for that. He knew that his proud Master would not want to be seen in such a state. Qui-Gon lay face down on the bunk, clutching a pillow under his head. He twitched and moaned occasionally. Obi-Wan wrung the cloth in the warm water and set to work. The back first. Qui-Gon cried out in his sleep as the cloth moved over the angry red stripes on his back.

Obi-Wan followed the cloth with his own hands. He was not a Healer, but all Jedi receive first aid training. He drew on the Force and sent healing power into his Master's wounds. The stripes faded almost imperceptibly. He was doing some good, if not much.

Now he took the hands, washing the cuts and bruises that ringed the wrists. After infusing the wounds with his small healing power, he added a disinfectant salve from the first aid kit. The ankles received similar treatment as Qui-Gon remained in heavy sleep.

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels for a moment, surveying his Master's entire back. There were so many cuts and bruises that he barely knew where to begin. He washed Qui-Gon thoroughly.

There was blood on the inner thighs, seeping from Qui-Gon's red and swollen anus. Obi-Wan bit his lip, wishing he could just break down and sob. He'd lived a sheltered life, having been brought to the Jedi Temple as an infant, but he'd at least heard of such things. But he never expected it to happen to someone he knew, and certainly not to his proud and powerful Master. He cleaned up the blood with great tenderness.

Now he began to gently stroke healing power onto the various cuts and bruises. Qui-Gon sighed and Obi-Wan thought he was doing some good.

But after a moment, he looked back down and saw new blood on Qui-Gon's thighs. He was still bleeding. From... in there. Obi-Wan was shaking now and one tear escaped to trickle down his nose. He cleaned up the blood again. After a moment's hesitation, he coated one forefinger thoroughly with the disinfectant salve and very cautiously began to work it into Qui-Gon's anus.

Qui-Gon flinched and cried out. Obi-Wan jumped, but didn't retreat. He stroked his Master's back with his other hand, whispering soothingly, "Shh-shh-shh", as he continued to slowly press his finger inside Qui-Gon's body. He felt himself growing dizzy as he directed as much healing force as possible to Qui-Gon.

He held the finger in position, moving in cautious circles, for as long as he could. Then before he could pass out, he pulled the finger back and fell back onto his rear on the cabin floor.

He crept forward again. His Master slept on, but tears were streaming down his face. Obi-Wan leaned forward and kissed Qui-Gon on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything. Sorry I didn't get here sooner."

With the assistance of the Force, he turned Qui-Gon over and began the arduous process again. More cuts, more bruises, more evidence of the intolerable humiliation his Master had been subjected to.

He might have expected to feel embarrassed to be crouched here on the floor, tenderly cupping his Master's genitals in his hands, but he was too heartsick for other feelings. He concentrated solely on sending healing power into Qui-Gon.

Finally, he had done everything that he could. He wrapped Qui-Gon back in the robe.

He felt weariness deep in his bones. Obi-Wan made one last check of ship's systems and then returned to the small bunk. For a long time he knelt beside the bunk, watching his Master sleep. Then he removed his boots and lay down on the bunk beside Qui-Gon. He put his arms around him and Qui-Gon moved closer, pressing his face into Obi-Wan's neck.

Obi-Wan kissed Qui-Gon on the forehead and held him close, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

Qui-Gon stirred, coming gradually awake. The dim light told him that he was in a bunk on a small ship. His Padawan was with him, arms wrapped firmly around him.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and drifted, trying to make sense of it. He remembered setting off alone on the mission to Philatee, and then a strange scene in a stone dungeon, Obi-Wan standing between him and a sinister figure in black. But in between were only flickers, fragments. He felt very weak.

Obi-Wan stirred and opened his eyes. Realizing his Master was awake, he sat up. "How do you feel?" he asked.

The gentleness in Obi-Wan's voice and the fear in his eyes told Qui-Gon that strange events had occurred in the dim blanks of his memory.

"I feel... I'm not really sure," he admitted at last. "Where are we?"

"On the way to Coruscant," Obi-Wan told him. "We're still over a day out. Would you like something to eat?"

Food! What a wonderful thought. Qui-Gon nodded and sat up.

"How about a shower?" Obi-Wan suggested.

His apprentice was simply full of great ideas today. "A shower would be wonderful," Qui-Gon said with heartfelt sincerity.

He got out of the bunk, the robe wrapped around him, and looked about curiously. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "You had none when I found you."

"When you found me? In that stone cellar? Obi-Wan, what has happened?"

Obi-Wan looked miserable, poor boy. "Master, I truly don't know. I sensed that you were in trouble, so I came to help. I would have thought you would know, but the man in black seems to have done something to your memory."

Strange. This was all so strange. Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "That's quite all right," he said gently. "We'll worry about it later. Now, where's that shower?"

Obi-Wan pointed him toward the small ship's head, and Qui-Gon entered. Removing the robe, he looked himself over in the mirror. Cuts, bruises, rings of damage around his wrists and ankles. He ached all over and still felt very weak.

Shaking his head and dismissing the mysteries for the moment, Qui-Gon enjoyed a long and hot shower. This ship was another mystery. Quite luxuriously appointed, not an Academy craft. And why had the Council sent his Padawan after him without assistance from his elders?

The sting of the water drew Qui-Gon's attention to other areas of damage. He closed his eyes for a moment. Too many mysteries.

When he reentered the living area, he saw that his apprentice had assembled a small meal for him. It was exceedingly plain. Dried meat had been mixed with hot water to make a soup, and there were crackers as well. The broth smelled delicious. Qui-Gon sat down and began to eat. Obi-Wan moved around behind him and began to towel and comb his hair. "You're not eating?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I had a bite while you were in the shower," Obi-Wan told him.

Qui-Gon allowed himself to be pampered. He felt full in a surprisingly short time, as if he had been on short rations for days. Pushing back the bowl, he said thoughtfully, "I have been mistreated."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Physically and sexually," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan whispered, "Yes, Master."

"But, WHY?"

There was no answer to that.

It made no sense, not even mad sense. Qui-Gon had made enemies in his career, of course, all Jedi did. The cruel, the greedy, the unjust all had reason to hate him. But an enemy who did not kill him outright would surely want him to retain the memory of what had happened to him.

But to simply wake up like this, knowing that he had been abused, but not by whom or why, it was almost more frightening.

He looked up suddenly. Obi-Wan was certainly frightened. He reached over and patted the boy's hand. "Where are the others?" he asked.

"Others?"

"The Jedi! Where are they? Why are you here alone?"

He sensed Obi-Wan's fear increase. "They didn't believe me!" he blurted. "I tried to tell them you were in danger, truly I did, Master! But I didn't have enough information, and they couldn't sense the danger, so they thought I was just having some Padawan nerve storm! But I knew, I KNEW! So I... borrowed a master's crystal and Senator Valorum's yacht and came after you myself."

Qui-Gon sat back in surprise. Obi-Wan was crouched in his chair, obviously expecting to be chastised. "Good for you," Qui-Gon said quietly. Obi-Wan looked up with a surprised smile, and Qui-Gon felt his heart flip over. How dear this boy was to him! How brave and how beautiful!

The weakness was stealing over him again, and Obi-Wan sensed it. He stood up and took Qui-Gon's arm. "You should rest, Master," he urged. "There's nothing else that needs to be done at the moment, and once we get back we can assume a lot of questions and investigations."

"Wise young Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon accepted his apprentice's assistance in getting to his feet and moving back to the bunk. He lay back down and couldn't hold back a sigh of exhausted relief. "If you can do without my company, I'll initiate a healing trance."

Obi-Wan took his hand and kissed it. "I'll have your company, Master. You're here, and that's more than I'd hoped for several days ago."

Qui-Gon smiled and squeezed Obi-Wan's hand before drifting off to sleep.

Part VII

Obi-Wan sat for a long time and watched his Master sleep. Generations of tradition said that when the Master was in a healing trance, the Apprentice guarded the Master.

And now that he thought of it, it was usually the Master who was wounded. It made sense, though the Jedi Master was strong and well-trained and the Apprentice more prone to error. But the Master's first care was for his Apprentice and many a Master was brought back to the Temple wounded, even killed, through protecting his Padawan.

Obi-Wan remembered when Master Folth and Padawan Trayna returned from a mission, Folth gravely wounded and Trayna white-faced with worry. She was several years older than Obi-Wan, but they had been good friends. Obi-Wan had gone down to the Infirmary to hear the news and had found Folth deep in a healing trance. Trayna knelt beside the bed, hand on her lightsaber, her eyes lit with a devotion that Obi-Wan could only envy.

He had been twelve then and still unselected. His peers were beginning to whisper that he would never be selected, and his insecurity was growing.

And now he was guarding the greatest, wisest, and kindest Master in the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan took a moment to appreciate his good fortune. It might be temporary, when he returned to the Temple to face the music, but for two years he had been Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, and he would always have that.

For the first time, Obi-Wan was struck with the realization of how beautiful his Master was. There were bruises on the noble face, and Obi-Wan stroked gently, urging them to fade.

After a time, he stretched out on the bunk beside his Master and was touched and pleased when Qui-Gon moved closer to him. He put his arms around Qui-Gon and stroked his hair. "I love you, Master," he whispered. Qui-Gon snuggled closer and Obi-Wan kissed him on the cheek.

For a long time he lay thus, running his hands soothingly over his sleeping Master's back and shoulders and murmuring occasional words of love.

And still it was not enough. Not knowing why, Obi-Wan did something he'd never done before. He lowered his head and kissed Qui-Gon on the lips.

Qui-Gon made a sleepy noise and smiled. Obi-Wan had never kissed anyone on the lips before. It was nice. He kissed Qui-Gon again. It seemed a perfect way to express the depth of his love. Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him and his lips moved against Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan shivered with the thrill of it. His Master was kissing him back!

For a long while Obi-Wan held his Master close, kissing him again and again. And then something changed. Qui-Gon made an unusual noise, like a groan, and the kiss deepened. The love Obi-Wan felt was returned with passion. One large hand moved to the back of Obi-Wan's head and Qui-Gon's lips moved gently, opening Obi-Wan's lips. A tongue lightly entered Obi-Wan's mouth and caressed him intimately.

Obi-Wan gasped. So strange, but so compelling! He liked it! Tentatively, he moved his tongue, returning his Master's caress. This strange adult form of kissing continued, Obi-Wan almost dizzy with pleasure.

But uneasiness was forming in his mind. Was this truly for him? Qui-Gon was in a healing trance; did he realize who he was kissing? Was this shared intimacy meant for his Padawan, or for the lovely Master who had shared dinners and late evenings with Qui-Gon?

Obi-Wan felt guilty now, certain he was taking from his Master something that truly belonged to another. With great regret, he pulled his head back, breaking contact with the unsettling pleasure. Qui-Gon moved a bit, making small sounds of protest, and then settled down again, his head tucked under Obi-Wan's chin.

Obi-Wan stroked his Master's hair, trying to soothe, but deeply disturbed. Passion had been added to his love for his Master and Obi-Wan had experienced the beginning of desire. It changed everything. Because now he not only loved his Master, he also wanted him.

He had never understood before, the way boys his age suddenly started making fools of themselves around attractive girls and women. Now he had an inkling of what that was all about. He still didn't quite know what it was that he wanted. But it was Qui-Gon. Whatever those mysterious intimacies were, he wanted to share them with Qui-Gon.

Now he remembered suddenly how his Master had been treated, what had been taken from him against his will, and his heart ached. Again he pressed his lips to Qui-Gon's forehead and whispered, "I love you. I'll always love you."

The patrol ships joined him soon after the small ship dropped from hyperspace, tracking closely while demanding identification. Obi-Wan keyed the comm-link. Wishing his voice were deeper, but speaking with great decision, he announced, "This is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am returning to the Jedi Temple with my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Please inform the Temple to have medical personnel standing by for our arrival."

He snapped off the comm-link before he could give in to the childish urge to add, "And tell them 'I told you so'."

As he approached the Temple, he saw a small group of people waiting for the landing, several in Healers' red. Obi-Wan wished he could have found something for his Master to wear. He had unearthed some coveralls covered in a leaf pattern, obviously the Senator's hunting garb, but Qui-Gon was too tall and broad to fit into them. So when they touched down and opened the hatch, Qui-Gon was dressed only in his Padawan's robe. It covered him adequately, though his bare feet and wounded ankles were on display.

Obi-Wan went to the bunk and helped his Master to his feet. Qui-Gon put his arm over Obi-Wan's shoulder and exited the craft with assistance. As the small greeting party moved toward them, Obi-Wan realized with a pang of fear that Senator Valorum was among them. Was the trouble to begin so soon? But Valorum didn't look at either Obi-Wan or at his hijacked yacht. He was watching Qui-Gon, and his pleasure to see the Jedi Master alive and walking was obvious.

The healers were in the forefront and moved solicitously to Qui-Gon's side. A hover-chair accompanied them but Qui-Gon waved it away. "I'm not dead yet," he snapped irritably. "I can walk."

The healers didn't look convinced, but at a gesture from Mace Windu they fell in behind the little party.

To Obi-Wan the walk to the Infirmary felt like miles. Despite Qui-Gon's protests, his strength was almost at an end. By the time they reached the door to the Infirmary, Obi-Wan was bearing most of Qui-Gon's weight.

They entered the Infirmary and the doors were firmly closed, with Mace and Senator Valorum on the outside. The two men exchanged glances.

"He looks pretty bad," Mace said.

"That's what I thought," Valorum agreed. "I suppose he's lucky to have a Padawan as stubborn as he is."

Mace groaned. "Don't remind me. I've been kicking myself for three days. But how could the strongest Force adepts in the Order miss what was clear to a teenager?"

Valorum shook his head. "I'll leave those mysteries to you and yours. I have enough trouble deciphering the Republic's budget."

Mace looked at the closed doors. "I suppose... he'll be all right now?"

"Surely!" Valorum said.

Within the Infirmary assistant healers bustled and Qui-Gon's robe was replaced with an invalid gown. Obi-Wan, standing unnoticed in the corner, saw their surprise at his Master's nudity and the obvious abuse he had received.

Qui-Gon was installed in a bed. He had stopped protesting; his exhaustion was obvious. Master Healer Kallah joined them. The old human moved with massive dignity, as befitting her status as lead Healer for the Jedi Temple for decades. She frowned thoughtfully at Qui-Gon, looked deeply into his eyes and moved her hands in the air over his body, eyes closed. Then she murmured with her assistants for a few moments.

When she spoke aloud, it was merely to recommend a healing trance. "Other treatments must wait until you have recovered more of your strength, Master Qui-Gon," she told him gently. Qui-Gon nodded wearily and closed his eyes. Master Kallah returned to her huddle with her assistants.

Obi-Wan still stood in the corner. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him. But that was all right, he wasn't the patient. Moving softly so as not to disturb anyone, Obi-Wan crept over to his Master's bedside. Lowering himself to one knee, he placed one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber and settled down, quite content to guard his Master and wait.

Finally the medical consultation broke up. Master Kallah, turning back to her patient, took note of the small human kneeling by the bedside. "Obi-Wan?" she asked.

Obi-Wan tore his eyes from his Master and looked up. "Yes, Master Kallah?"

"You needn't remain here. Return to your quarters and get some rest."

Obi-Wan protested, "Oh, but - " before cutting off his words. He thought he managed to remain impassive, hoped that his shock and despair didn't show on his face.

Standing, he bowed low to the Master Healer. "Yes, Master Kallah," he said quietly, and exited the Infirmary.

Once in the corridor, he leaned against the wall for a moment, shutting his eyes and willing himself not to break down in public. "You knew this would happen," he reminded himself. "You knew. You said it was worth it."

He pushed himself from the wall and moved away then, hurrying back to the quarters he had shared with Qui-Gon for two years. "Couldn't they have waited?" he wondered. "Just a little while, just let me guard him and be with him a while before I have to leave? Couldn't they have given me that much?"

Apparently not. It seemed that his fate was already decided, had perhaps been decided in his absence. And he was no longer Qui-Gon's Padawan. Would his Master regret his loss?

The abruptness of it was shocking, but so it had been before, when he had been banished to the Agri-Corps. Obi-Wan had no idea how much time he would be given or where he would be going. Better to be prepared, he decided.

He went into his own small room and began to pack. There wasn't much to pack; Jedi don't accumulate a lot in their nomadic existence, and apprentices even less. Within minutes, all the items that were Obi-Wan's personal possessions and not Temple property were neatly assembled in two small bags. He placed his lightsaber beside them. That would be taken back, surely.

Then it occurred to him that Qui-Gon had lost his lightsaber and would need to build another one. Obi-Wan picked up his own lightsaber and broke it open. He removed the green crystal and wrapped it in paper, writing "for Qui-Gon Jinn" on the paper and setting it on his desk.

And now he was done. He looked around. The room looked so stark, without his pictures on the wall, his models on the shelf. Obi-Wan wandered out into the living room and then across to Qui-Gon's room. Like his Master, big, austere, somehow comforting. Feeling like an intruder, Obi-Wan crept over to the bed. He picked up the pillow and pressed it to his face. It smelled like Qui-Gon. He hugged it tight.

And finally Obi-Wan broke down. Exhausted and heartbroken, he fell onto his Master's bed. No, not his Master, not anymore. That realization was the last straw and Obi-Wan began to cry.

"If I'm not a Jedi anymore, I don't have to pretend to be brave," he thought.

He curled up in a ball around the tightly-clutched pillow and cried himself to sleep.

Part VIII

Qui-Gon woke to the dim light before dawn. He felt stronger, though not quite fully recovered, and strangely discontented. This bed was far too soft. And where was his Padawan?

He sat up and looked around. The Temple Dispensary. A red-robed aide was quickly at his side. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked.

"Where's Obi-Wan?"

"Oh, your Padawan was exhausted, poor boy! Master Kallah sent him to his quarters to rest."

"Sounds like a good idea." Qui-Gon swung his legs out of the bed.

"Oh, but you can't!" the aide protested.

"Why not?" Qui-Gon asked. "Am I on any medication or medical treatment at the moment?"

"Well..."

"Anything that couldn't be handled as an out-patient from the comfort of my own quarters?"

The aide dithered in distress.

Qui-Gon sighed impatiently. "I'm not going off-world, I'm going to the next tower over." Without waiting for permission, he strode out of the Infirmary.

Ah, his quarters! Qui-Gon sighed with relief to approach the door and key in his entry code. Finally, a haven.

The living room was comfortably normal. Qui-Gon was feeling tired again, worn out by the walk from the Infirmary. But he reminded himself that he should look in on his Padawan before retiring again.

At the door to Obi-Wan's room he stopped and stared. What was going on? The room was bare, all personal items removed. And two small bags stood packed and ready. And where was Obi-Wan?

Qui-Gon backed out of the room and turned, reaching out with his senses, finding the link to his apprentice. There he was. In Qui-Gon's room for some reason.

Qui-Gon entered his room to find Obi-Wan curled up on the bed. The boy slept the sleep of exhaustion, heavy circles under his eyes and tear tracks dried on his face.

Curious, Qui-Gon quietly approached. He put out his hand and gently touched Obi-Wan's cheek.

Obi-Wan was instantly awake. He stared at Qui-Gon as if confronted by a ghost. "Master! I mean... Qui-Gon... sir!"

He jumped from the bed and fell to his knees, taking Qui-Gon's hand and kissing it before holding it to his cheek. "Thank you!" he said. "I was so afraid I wouldn't see you again. I'm so glad you came."

Qui-Gon stared down at his distraught apprentice. "Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?" he asked gently.

"Well, I mean, not being your Padawan anymore, and I don't really know where I'm supposed to go - "

Qui-Gon frowned sternly. "Not my Padawan anymore? Says who?"

"Master Kallah, in the Infirmary," Obi-Wan said sadly. "I assumed the Council made the decision while I was gone. On account of me stealing the yacht and the crystal. I thought it was bound to happen, but it still hurts." He looked up quickly and hastened to add, "But I'd do it again. I would. I don't care what happens, I'd do it again to get you out of there."

Qui-Gon was becoming more confused. "Obi-Wan, what exactly did Master Kallah say?"

Obi-Wan's eyes filled with tears. He looked away and whispered pathetically, "She wouldn't let me guard you."

"Oh, for..." Qui-Gon stopped and extended a hand, pulling Obi-Wan to his feet. "Come on, we'll get to the bottom of this."

He escorted his Padawan into the main room, where they took a seat on the sofa. Qui-Gon put his arm around Obi-Wan and keyed the commlink. "Windu!" he snapped.

A surprised voice answered, "Qui-Gon? You're awake? What are you grumbling about at this hour of the morning?"

"You get your administrative ass up to my quarters and explain to me who's been upsetting my Padawan!" It was a shadow of his former roar, but still quite effective.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, old friend, but I'll be right there."

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan and said, "You're not going anywhere, Padawan. Or if you are, I'll be going with you. That's a promise."

Obi-Wan put his head on his Master's shoulder. It seemed like a great deal of bother was in the works, but at least he and Qui-Gon were together.

"But Obi-Wan has NOT been dismissed," Mace was insisting moments later. "I assure you, Qui-Gon, if such action had been taken, I would have known about it."

"Then why didn't someone bother to explain that to him?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I don't know." Mace turned to Obi-Wan and asked, "What exactly did Master Kallah say to you?"

"That I didn't need to stay, that I should go to my quarters and rest," Obi-Wan said.

Both men stared at him. "And you took that to mean you were dismissed from the Temple?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I was expecting it, of course. Because of taking the Senator's yacht, not to mention the crystal."

"So what did you say to her?" Mace asked.

"What could I say? I said Yes Master and came back here and packed."

"And she let you go, upset as you were."

"Oh, but she didn't know I was upset," Obi-Wan said. He was getting confused. It sounded as if he was still Qui-Gon's Padawan, but now there was some other issue that the adult were all concerned about.

Mace shook his head. "Obi-Wan, you are an apprentice. A fine apprentice, but still in training. If you had thought you were dismissed, Master Kallah should have known that."

"I shielded," Obi-Wan said in a very small voice.

"I know that, son," Mace said patiently, "but a Master Healer should have noted the presence of the shield."

He moved to the commlink and buzzed the Infirmary, asking Master Kallah to report to Qui-Gon Jinn's quarters. The Master arrived in moments, expecting that her patient had taken a turn for the worse. Instead, she walked into an inquiry.

"Master Kallah," Mace asked, "when you sent Padawan Kenobi to his quarters last night, why did you take no action concerning mental shielding that should have indicated the presence of great mental distress?"

Kallah stared at the two men and boy confronting her. "Because there was no shield," she said.

"There was," Obi-Wan whispered. "You just can't see it."

Mace turned to Obi-Wan, trying to mask his impatience. "Padawan Kenobi, you are not in trouble. I assure you of that. But a Jedi Master will notice the presence of mental shielding."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and then closed it again. Eyes on the floor, he said, "Yes, Master Mace."

Mace and Kallah began to talk at once, but Qui-Gon held up a hand and they fell silent. He turned to his Apprentice. "Obi-Wan, are you shielding now?"

Obi-Wan nodded, unwilling to meet anyone's eyes.

The three Jedi Masters exchanged glances. "Can you sense it?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No," Mace admitted. He turned to Kallah, "You?"

"There is no shield," Master Kallah insisted.

They all turned to look at the young apprentice, who apparently possessed a mental skill unheard of in the history of the Jedi Order.

The silence grew uncomfortable.

Finally Master Kallah said impatiently, "I may not see a shield, but I do see a boy about to drop from exhaustion and a foolish Master who arose from a healing trance far too soon. Get to bed, the both of you! Unraveling this mystery can wait."

She turned to Mace and made shooing motions.

"Oh, but - " Mace protested.

"Out!" Kallah insisted. "Doctor's orders."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were alone. "Was I wrong to shield?" Obi-Wan asked timidly.

Qui-Gon put his arm around him. "Not at all, Padawan. We all do, for various reasons. You've just... taken us all by surprise, I suppose. But Master Kallah is right. You should get some rest."

Obi-Wan walked to the door of his room, and then turned back. He felt foolish to mention it, but both he and his Master had been through a lot in the past several days. "I... don't want to be alone," he said.

Qui-Gon's face softened. "Neither do I," he admitted. "Come."

Obi-Wan joined him and the two repaired to Qui-Gon's big bed, where they were soon fast asleep with their arms around one another.

Obi-Wan was angry and making no effort to hide it. Qui-Gon stood quietly, head bowed in deep thought, as they waited to be admitted to the chamber. Mace saw the teenager's mutinous frown and gestured for him to come to the window.

"What is it?" Mace asked quietly.

"I just don't know why we're wasting time with this!" Obi-Wan said hotly. "All this silly business about mental shields. Why aren't we looking for the people who kidnapped Qui-Gon?"

Mace spared a glance to Qui-Gon, who seemed to be ignoring them, lost in his own thoughts. Then he turned back to Qui-Gon's apprentice. "We are looking for them, Obi-Wan," he said. "Last night I dispatched an investigative team. They're returning to the planet where Qui-Gon was held and will conduct a thorough investigation."

Obi-Wan felt his anger deflate. "Oh."

Mace smiled at him. "Sorry I didn't run the team composition by you first," he said jokingly. "But I think you'll agree it's a first rate team. Adi Gallia is the best investigator we have, Plo Koon has the extrasensory abilities and is an old friend of Qui-Gon's, Mundi and Piell are our best warriors, and nobody knows the Dark Side like Mundi does. If anyone can find this lunatic, they can."

Obi-Wan nodded, but then added sadly, "If anyone can."

Mace gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Now our Councillors are fascinated by you. You seem to have a shielding ability that we've never encountered before. Naturally they're curious. So humor them."

Obi-Wan looked over at Qui-Gon, who was looking sad and remote. Turning back to Mace, he said, "Only if they bring Qui-Gon a chair. He shouldn't be up yet, but he wouldn't allow me to be questioned without his presence."

"Good point," Mace said, and murmured to an aide.

He watched in silence as the apprentice went to his Master's side and took his hand. Qui-Gon looked up then and smiled at Obi-Wan. Mace was relieved to see that, glad that there was someone for Qui-Gon, someone who would go through anything for him, even go up against the Council itself.

Finally they were called in to the Council chamber. Not a full session, but the Force adepts were all there. Obi-Wan was pleased to see a chair brought in for his Master, who quietly subsided and listened to the proceedings.

Obi-Wan faced the Council members as bravely as he knew how. It was easier than he expected; after facing the mysterious dark man, well-intentioned Force adepts were less intimidating.

They questioned him closely about shielding, how he had learned what he did, and what he did differently than the other Jedi. Obi-Wan had trouble answering their questions. It wasn't something he did deliberately, but just something he had picked up.

"You are nervous, Obi-Wan," Eeth Koth said.

Obi-Wan said honestly, "Yes, Master Koth."

"Hide that from us," Yarael Poof suggested. "Without us knowing."

Obi-Wan complied. There were murmurs of astonishment as the group assessed the mental shield. The nervousness appeared to be gone, with no shield that even Koth could detect.

Various other tests were put to Obi-Wan and he performed them to the best of his ability.

Finally, Yaddle said, "Your ability to use the Force, Obi-Wan. Hide that from us."

A gasp ran through the room as Obi-Wan disguised his Force abilities.

Saesee Tiin gave a shout of laughter. "But here is a simple country boy," he said, "going to a masquerade as a Jedi Apprentice! Wonderful."

Yoda had been following the proceedings closely. Now he leaned forward. "This must I learn," he said. "Teach me you will."

Obi-Wan gulped at the thought of having Yoda as a student, especially when the subject was a mental ability he didn't even know how to explain.

But Oppo Reveisis shrugged. "An interesting trick," he said. "But of what value?"

"Any new mental ability is of value," Yaddle said.

"For a Jedi to hide himself from other Jedi?" Master Oppo argued. "For what purpose? We already have the mental ability to shield ourselves from non-Force-sensitives. Why would we need to hide from other Jedi?"

Yoda thumped his stick on the floor. "Just now have we learned that not all Force wielders Jedi are," he reminded Oppo.

Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the room as the Council members argued among themselves.

But the argument was interrupted without warning as Qui-Gon surged to his feet, calling in a loud voice, "OBI-WAN KENOBI!"

A hush fell and Obi-Wan turned to stare at his Master. But he instantly recognized that this was not his Master at all. The Voice of Prophesy had seized Qui-Gon, the Jedi Master least interested in prophesy and most in tune with the present.

A quick murmur ran around the room, as the Masters recognized prophesy among them. Yoda held up his hands for silence. The prophesy must be heard.

Part IX

"OBI-WAN KENOBI!" the voice of the Prophesy spoke again.

Obi-Wan stepped toward Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon seemed to look right through him, speaking in a strange hollow voice. "Young man, you will be a sword, and the sword will fail!"

Obi-Wan shuddered, both at the tone and the words themselves. His failure already pre-ordained? He wanted to protest, to cry out, 'but I'm only fifteen!'

But the Prophesy hadn't finished. Echoing around the chamber, it continued, "Old man, you will be a shield. And the shield... will... hold."

At the last word, Qui-Gon collapsed like a sack of grain. Obi-Wan was there before he hit the floor, cradling his Master's head in his lap.

The chamber erupted into chaos. Mace quickly got to the commlink and summoned Master Kallah, who arrived with a bevy of assistants and harsh words for Masters who overtaxed a patient who shouldn't even be out of bed yet.

Qui-Gon was borne away to the Infirmary with Obi-Wan holding tightly to his hand.

The council members reconvened as an ad-hoc Augury Committee. Strange words and who could interpret them? None could say with any degree of confidence, though everyone seemed to have a pet theory.

Councilors debated the issue on and off as the months and years passed. Several months after the events in the Council Chamber, Obi-Wan was startled to overhear Council members speak of the Shield of the Jedi and to realize they were referring to him.

But what the Prophesy meant remained a mystery.

Shmi Skywalker smoothed the heavy brocade carefully before hanging it in the wardrobe. She hummed under her breath, still savoring her change of fortune. After years of hard labor, it felt like heaven to be promoted to the status of house work. And with such a kind master!

She'd been only fourteen when her father sold her. Drought and famine had hit their community hard, and her mother tried to convince her that slavery was in her best interests. "If your master can't afford to feed you, he'll sell you to someone who can," her mother had said soothingly. At the time, Shmi had thought that belonging to someone who could afford to feed her was indeed a step up in the world.

She never saw her mother again, and so never had the chance to ask her, "Mama, did you really believe that?"

But that was the past, and the years of work on docks, in fields, with masters brutal or cruelly indifferent, that was the past as well. Warm and well-fed, Shmi lived in a large and luxurious house just across the border from the Republic.

Lord Palpatine was a very important man in the Republic, she knew, and had a home there as well. Though he liked it better here, he said. Shmi tried to make the home as comfortable and welcoming as she could.

Suddenly her stomach rolled, and Shmi clapped her hand over her mouth and made it to the small bathroom before vomiting. She knelt on the floor for several moments recovering her breath. Then she carefully cleaned the toilet and rinsed her mouth with clean water. She had been experiencing nausea in the mornings for several weeks now.

Shmi fetched a sweet-smelling air freshener and spritzed it around the bathroom. She wanted to impress Lord Palpatine with her industry and stamina, not give him the notion that she was weak and sickly. Perhaps this was a lingering residue of that virus she'd had about a month ago. Shmi had slept heavily then, sleeping all through one day and night, awaking flustered and embarrassed at neglecting her duties. But Lord Palpatine had told her that wasn't important, that the truly important thing was her health. He was like that, so thoughtful.

Shmi took a last look around the well-appointed chamber, fluffing a pillow and smoothing the bed draperies. As she brushed against the desk beside the bed, something fell to the floor, a small cylinder. She picked it up. It was an empty glass vial. Shmi turned it in her hand, wondering what it was for, whether she should discard it, as the door opened and the master of the house entered.

She turned to him with a smile, holding out the vial. "This fell on the floor, my lord, and I was just pondering whether or not to throw it away. What is it?"

Lord Palpatine held out his hand and she handed him the vial. He held it to the light, smiling fondly. "This? Oh, nothing important, my dear. Just a little memento, a fond reminder of a pleasant occasion. I'll keep it, if you don't mind."

Shmi chuckled at her master's nonsense. As if it were her place to mind! She gathered up the rest of the waste and bowed herself out of the room.

Continuing about her duties, Shmi fondly considered her new master. How like him to keep a worthless trifle to remind himself of some past event. So sentimental of him. Such a KIND man!

The faint cry of protest was enough to bring Obi-Wan instantly awake. He knew what to do now. Slipping out of bed, he crossed the quarters to his Master's room.

Qui-Gon was in the grip of nightmare again. Obi-Wan quietly approached the bed. "It's Obi-Wan, Master," he said. "I'm here. Everything is all right. It's only a dream."

He raised the covers and slipped into the bed beside Qui-Gon, putting his arm around him. Still asleep, Qui-Gon moved toward him, holding him close. He shivered for a few minutes, while Obi-Wan stroked his shoulders and continued to speak softly to him. Gradually Qui-Gon grew calmer, his sleep more peaceful.

Obi-Wan stayed awake for a while after that, enjoying the feel of his Master sleeping in his arms. He stroked Qui-Gon's hair and kissed him on the forehead.

In the months since Qui-Gon had been rescued from his captivity, his recovery had been slow. Obi-Wan suspected that part of the problem was the continuing mystery; the investigative team had returned to Coruscant with empty hands, and Qui-Gon's attacker had never been caught or even identified.

Qui-Gon had attended therapy sessions with the Healers, participating with an uncharacteristic docility that Obi-Wan found almost frightening. But finally, in a flash of his old stubbornness, he told the healers that they were getting nowhere and refused to participate further. It was difficult, he pointed out, to 'work through your issues' over events that he couldn't even remember.

But he was improving, Obi-Wan was convinced of that. The nightmares used to be almost nightly occurrences, and this was the first nightmare in over a week. Earlier, Obi-Wan had found the nightmares terrifying; he had raced to Qui-Gon's room and shaken his Master awake. But that had only resulted in more trauma, as Qui-Gon awoke disoriented and frightened. Eventually, Obi-Wan hit on the technique of soothing away the nightmare without waking Qui-Gon. They were adjusting. Everything would be fine.

In the morning, he knew, Qui-Gon would awake to find Obi-Wan with him, and say something rueful like, "Another nightmare, I see." He might, as he sometime did, offer some sort of inarticulate thanks to Obi-Wan for being so patient with him. Obi-Wan didn't consider his actions patient at all; he only wished he had a happier reason for occupying Qui-Gon's bed.

Obi-Wan kissed his Master again and drifted off to sleep.

No, Healer Kallah wasn't busy, and yes, she'd be quite happy to see Padawan Kenobi. Obi-Wan entered the office, smiling apologetically, and took the offered seat.

Kallah smiled at the apprentice. She had a soft spot for the attractive young man who was so devoted to his Master.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"I just wanted to talk with you, Master, about Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan began hesitantly. He was on a free period and decided to talk with the Healer rather than join his friends for a levitation game.

The old woman nodded. "I wasn't surprised to see him leave therapy," she said. "And I must admit that what he said was only accurate. We really were getting nowhere. He seems much better, though. I was rather pleased when he roared at us."

"He had another nightmare last night," Obi-Wan said. "But it was the first for a week. They're becoming rarer, so I guess that's good. But I just wondered..."

"Yes?"

"I wondered if it wouldn't be better for Qui-Gon to recover his memories, however awful those memories might be," he finished in a rush. He hoped Master Kallah wouldn't think he was trying to tell her how to treat her patients.

But Kallah only nodded. "You are quite right, Padawan," she said. "And if there were a technique to help Qui-Gon regain the memories of his captivity, I assure you we would consider it."

"You mean there isn't?" Obi-Wan was surprised.

"Not in this case, I'm afraid. There are techniques to assist in the recovery of repressed memories. But in this instance, the memories seem to have been erased altogether. It's extraordinary; I've never seen anything like it. But our best mind healers have explored the situation, and they tell me that, except for disjointed flashes, the memories are entirely gone. There is nothing to recover."

"Oh." Obi-Wan was dejected.

Kallah smiled at him sadly. "Qui-Gon was right, Obi-Wan. We really have done everything we can do for him. He will recover, I think, but it will take time."

Obi-Wan wandered in the Temple gardens. He moodily kicked at a rock, then reconsidered and fetched the rock back and set it in its original position. Then he flopped down onto a stone bench and brooded.

Time. Obi-Wan didn't like to hear about things taking time. He wanted Qui-Gon to be back to the way he'd been before. He tried to look on the bright side, reminding himself that there had been flashes of the old lion lately, breaking through the unfailing gentle courtesy that Obi-Wan found so unnerving.

Someone else was moving through the garden now, and Obi-Wan straightened up. Who was that? Some small person, a total stranger, what was he doing in the Temple gardens where only Jedi were allowed?

But now the stranger neared and Obi-Wan realized with shock that it was Master Yoda. Without his powerful Force aura, Yoda was almost unrecognizable.

Yoda had followed through on his determination to learn Obi-Wan's invisible shielding technique. Several of the other Masters had made the attempt, but Obi-Wan had trouble explaining how he did what he did and they soon lost interest. Only Yoda persisted, delighted as a child to be learning something new.

Now he came to a stop in front of Obi-Wan, cackling triumphantly. "Look!" he crowed. "Just a harmless little green troll am I, nothing to concern yourself with, yes!"

He hopped up on the bench beside Obi-Wan, inordinately pleased with himself.

Obi-Wan turned to him with a smile. "I didn't recognize you at first," he told the old Master. "It's like you're a different person altogether."

"Clever this is, and useful it may be," Yoda said with satisfaction.

"Master Yoda, there's something I've been wondering about," Obi-Wan said. "This Shield of the Jedi prophesy. What does it mean?"

"Understand it I do not, but certain it is," Yoda told him cryptically. "The Shield of the Jedi you are."

"Yes, but..." Obi-Wan wasn't sure how to phrase his objection. Whatever it was that a 'shield' did, it sounded to his adolescent mind to be incredibly boring. But you didn't say that to the oldest and wisest of the Masters, didn't complain about what the Prophesy foretold for you, however tedious it sounded.

So he said humbly, "It just seems to me that whatever this shield thing is, it would require a lot of patience. And you know, Master Yoda, patience is not really something I'm very good at."

Yoda gave a hoot of laughter. "Concerned I am not!" he said gleefully.

He poked Obi-Wan in the shoulder with his stick. "Love Qui-Gon you do," he said bluntly. "Wait for him you must. Learn patience, you will!"

With another hoot of delight, Yoda jumped off the bench and went on his way.

THE END