Walk Softly And Carry A Big Lightsaber -- continued

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Obi-Wan returned from his practice session in good humor. Master Bith had tested the limits of his training, and pressed them further. Today, the Jedi master had been content to push only Obi-Wan's physical limits, and it had been a delight to show what he knew, and express his joy through the movements of his body.

He had his own master back, and that was what mattered.

Eventually, he would complete his training, become a knight, and lose his master to the rhythms of change, but that seemed far-off and unimportant compared to the relief it was to have that link again in his head, to know that he could call on Qui-Gon if needed, and to know that his place by Qui-Gon's side was secure.

He would think later about what having a place meant to him, and how that could be a weakness. But not now. For today, he savored the fullness of his happiness at finding his way home.

He showered before returning to their shared quarters, making himself ready for whatever his master might have waiting for him. Tests, trials, meditation, exercises -- Obi-Wan was confident in his abilities, and in the lack of pain should he fail. A failure would be a mistake to learn from so that he might become more perfect. A lesson, nothing more.

Obi-Wan walked in, head high, and found Qui-Gon on the floor, kneeling in meditation. This was in no way unusual, and Obi-Wan joined him.

He did not speak to his master, nor did he attempt to find a suitable subject to meditate on. At the moment, nothing at all seemed the best topic, and Obi-Wan let his mind go free, secure and confident in the housing of his soul.

Qui-Gon turned his personal dilemma over in his mind again. He was aware of Obi-Wan's arrival, but chose not to allow it to affect him.

No, he was concentrating on something important, yet hard to understand.

What did he feel?

The same question he had meditated over yesterday, it had become no clearer with the passage of time. Only this time, he knew that it was Xanatos who barred his way.

Qui-Gon brought those remembered feelings back into his consciousness. He'd loved Xanatos thoroughly, had been proud in his apprentice and certain that Xanatos was ready to become a knight. He had seen no flaws, and while he had noticed his apprentice's delight in his own superiority, Qui-Gon had thought little of it. Xanatos had been good, and rejoicing in that ability had not seemed to be a flaw.

He knew better now, had guarded Obi-Wan against that selfsame flaw, and took an equal pleasure in Obi-Wan's complete lack of self-aggrandizement.

The last mission posed by the council had brought Xanatos' natural self to the fore, and Qui-Gon's former apprentice had grabbed for the power and glory that would have been his birthright, had he not been given to the Jedi.

He had gone, and Qui-Gon had known himself to be a fool.

His love had been misplaced, and it had hurt all the worse that their bond had been torn apart, edges mentally bleeding with the force of its sundering. It had taken Qui-Gon much meditation to resolve that torn spot in his mind, to return himself to normal.

And even after he had returned to normal, he had found that he could not take on another apprentice. He might not be the only Jedi who had ever lost an apprentice to the Dark Side, but Xanatos had been his padawan, and Qui-Gon the only one who had lost him so gravely. The raw place where the bond had been healed slowly, but it healed. Even mental wounds closed over in time.

But that was the last time he had reached out to another, the last personal risk he had taken. Even Obi-Wan... the boy had fought his way into Qui-Gon's heart, despite any will of Qui-Gon's own. And he had taken on the boy, because there was nothing else he could do but recognize the place where a new bond had sprouted.

A new bond... and a new love?

Qui-Gon clamped down on that thought hard. Instinctively. Without knowing quite why he'd done it. The very severity of his automatic response told him that the thought was important, and hesitantly, he opened himself back up to it, and allowed himself to think about it. The possibility of his loving Obi-Wan...

Yes, he cared deeply for his apprentice. Obi-Wan was the closest person to his heart, and Qui-Gon doubted that he would ever find room for another padawan after him. It was miracle enough that Obi-Wan had managed to initially breach his defenses -- Qui-Gon did not see it happening again, not to him. That his association with Obi-Wan might have healed him enough to allow him take on another apprentice, Qui-Gon dismissed entirely. Unlikely. Very unlikely, although Obi-Wan was very good for his wounded psyche. Force willing, he would work with Obi-Wan again after he had become a knight.

And then...

Qui-Gon realized something in that chain of thought. He did not wish to leave Obi-Wan. It was inevitable, and yet, he wanted to keep Obi-Wan's presence with him. He'd grown to need his padawan's bright flame in the back of his mind, had grown to depend on their bond.

That bothered him. How was he to set an example for Obi-Wan if he could not properly separate from him when the time came?

That he could, instead, choose to simply be with Obi-Wan required something Qui-Gon did not have. An ability to return the powerful feelings which Obi-Wan had for him. Qui-Gon's soul was stunted, in a place he'd never thought to examine, had never thought might be a flaw.

And, yet, he realized now, it was.

A gaping flaw that locked all the wonder of the galaxy away from him.

All the wonder of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon brought himself up out of the trance without visible effort, then stood, stretching his muscles.

Without prompting, Obi-Wan, too, returned from trance. He looked up at Qui-Gon. "Master?"

"Yes, padawan?"

Obi-Wan grinned at him, a happy, open expression so different than the closed-off tear-stricken expression of the day before. "Is it time for the dinner meal now?"

Qui-Gon chuckled despite himself. "I think so. You may as well go. I don't believe in starving my apprentice."

Still, Obi-Wan remained on the floor. "I would rather go with you, master."

Touched, Qui-Gon extended his hand to his kneeling padawan. "Then let us go together," he murmured.

Obi-Wan used his hand for hardly-needed balance. "Thank you, master."

They walked together through the halls, Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon's side and a bit behind. "How did your lesson go with Master Bith?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well, I think. I am weak in the nuances of fighting against someone I can sense but am not bonded to. His sense of me enabled him to find my weak points with great accuracy."

"Ah."

"I wish there was some way to lower my shields enough to read him while keeping them up at the same time so that he can't read me."

"To some extent, there is."

"How is that, Master?"

"You can read the patterns the Force makes as it moves around him. The Force is most responsive to its users, and will react based on intention and feeling. If you maintain an eye on the Force as well as your opponent, you can gain an idea of his positioning and tactics without needing to let your own shields down."

"Is that very accurate, master?" Obi-Wan asked doubtfully. He knew about watching the way the Force moved around a person, but did not think it a particularly clear source of data. "It doesn't seem that the information you'd get would be as complete."

"It isn't. But it is a way to read without needing to unshield."

"Are there any others, Master?"

"The best trick of all is to make your shields so much stronger that even while you are reading him, he cannot penetrate yours. I can't help you with that, though -- I believe only Yoda of the masters here now has the knowledge of how to use that against another expert in the Force."

"Would it work to mislead your opponent? To lay false impressions in the Force? Or to suppress one's feelings and thoughts so as to give no hint in the Force as to what one will do?"

Qui-Gon smiled at his apprentice. "Very good, Obi-Wan. Yes, it is possible. But such tactics are dangerous and difficult to learn. Self-deceptive, they require a mastery of thinking on many levels much beyond what you currently have achieved."

As Obi-Wan had not yet mastered the art of thinking of one thing while fighting, he could only agree. "What then is the best way, master?"

"That's something you'll need to work out for yourself. The answer differs."

"Ah. One of those problems."

"Yes, padawan," Qui-Gon said repressively, but with affection that was not hidden from their bond, "one of those problems."

They entered the dining hall together, in step.

Qui-Gon took in the gathered mass of Jedi with a look, then turned back to his apprentice. "If I have forgotten to mention it, you may wish to observe or even participate in the poetry contest that will be held tomorrow."

"What kind of poetry contest?" Contests in every form of Jedi skill were routine to the Temple, a way of honing oneself as well as a celebration of ability. More demonstration than competition, they were very popular, and events to be looked forward to. Obi-Wan generally knew when such things would be held and eagerly anticipated them, but there had been little to look forward to in the past few days, and before that, he had not known he would be on Coruscant at all.

"There is an open seat on the council. The departing member has requested that her replacement be chosen by a poem."

"That's... unusual."

"Not so unusual. Her seat is a rotating one. It would be more unusual were one of the permanent members of the council request that their replacement be chosen that way, but more because of the commitment involved than any unsuitability in the method."

"But, master, anyone could win. We could end up with an eleven-year-old on the Council."

Qui-Gon smiled. "If the Force wills it to happen that way, then no doubt we will have a great deal to learn from our hypothetical eleven-year-old. And, padawan, be grateful that the form of competition is not flower arranging."

His eyes twinkled, and Obi-Wan groaned. He had once made the mistake of napping in the Temple gardens, before he'd realized that there was a good reason why certain places were set aside for people and why everywhere else, however open-looking, should be treated with caution. He'd woken up inside a Force-grown jungle, and it had required Qui-Gon, the two juniors who had grown that patch of garden, and a lightsaber to disentangle him. But not before he'd been scratched bloody, bitten, and nearly dissolved in the acid used by one of the plants to digest its food.

He was never going to be allowed to forget that. Which, perhaps, was all for the best, because he certainly wasn't going to do that again.

"You may enter if you wish," Qui-Gon said. "The experience would be good for you."

"Will you enter, master?"

"No. I have no desire to be on the council. My work is elsewhere."

"If your work is elsewhere, master, then so is mine," Obi-Wan said, then realized that that statement could be taken as a rather prideful announcement that he thought he would win if he entered the contest. That his master would win, Obi-Wan never questioned. "Not that I expect anyone will notice my entry," he added. "I never can remember which underlying metaphor I'm supposed to be illustrating with my simple yet deep expression of a Jedi's knowledge of the Force."

That drew a smile from his master, as Obi-Wan had wished. "You will do fine, Obi-Wan."

In your eyes, I will, Obi-Wan thought. But in the end, wasn't that what really mattered?

"You may be interested to know that the theme for the poetry contest has also been announced," Qui-Gon remarked as he and Obi-Wan made their way through the crowded dining hall.

"And it is?"

"'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.'" Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan, favoring him with a small smile. "You should have no problem with that theme, padawan. I assume you have not discontinued your meditation on the nature of wisdom."

Obi-Wan held in a groan. "I haven't found an answer yet."

Qui-Gon took a seat, and then, with a mischievous look, quoted again. "'Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.'"

"So I am to ask questions?" Obi-Wan said, as he took his own seat, putting his thoughts into words. His master did not reply -- Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan something to think about and would not influence that thinking unless Obi-Wan asked for assistance or came to an incorrect conclusion. And, even then, his master had been known to let him continue with an incorrect conclusion so as to let him experience the consequences of a poorly-thought-out decision firsthand.

At the last resort, Obi-Wan supposed, he could simply put down "What is a wise man?" and call that a poem, but Qui-Gon would know he had not thought about the issue, and would be disappointed in him. A disappointment he did not wish to court.

He thought instead about the principle selected for the contest. "Why choose that statement, master?" he asked. "There must be volumes of philosophy in the archives which interpret it."

"True." Qui-Gon ate neatly, appearing completely composed as he found an answer for his apprentice. "Part of the challenge is to find a way to reduce those volumes of philosophy to one poem."

"I suppose it could be a very long poem," Obi-Wan mused. It was usual for poetry contests to take place outside the dining hall. Aspiring poets used one long stretch of wall to inscribe their poems, which remained up until the next time the wall was washed. Theoretically, one could use a great deal of space on one's composition, provided that they were willing to start early enough, when wall space would still be available. With a Council seat at stake, Obi-Wan suspected that this would be a very popular contest.

He turned his attention away from walls and toward eating, having built up a strong appetite during his physical training. But still the question chased itself in his mind. What is a wise man?

Qui-Gon hid his smile carefully as he surreptitiously observed his apprentice. Already, Obi-Wan seemed to be recovered from his earlier ordeal. Thoroughly engrossed in the matter of the poetry competition, Obi-Wan did not seem stressed or uneasy. He had shaken off the ill effects of his separation from Qui-Gon.

I only wish I could say the same about myself. Realistically, Qui-Gon knew that, in all likelihood, the reason for his padawan's recovery was due to his own actions. Obi-Wan had found an outlet for his emotions. Had poured them out to Qui-Gon, and the emotions had taken their place in the bond he and Obi-Wan shared. That acceptance of emotion was a profound step in their relationship. It was what had calmed Obi-Wan, and indeed, now Qui-Gon felt little of the discomfort that had initially caused him to bring his apprentice back to Coruscant. And, adding to the young man's healing, Obi-Wan's secondary problem, his anguish over being separated, had also eased, almost as soon as he had returned to their quarters.

Qui-Gon could sense his padawan very well, and he knew how Obi-Wan felt about returning. Knew about the sense of joy that had imbued him today, and was glad for it.

Now if only he could find some of that peace himself.

He knew what was keeping him from being at rest. It was simple really. First, he needed to fully accept Obi-Wan's feelings -- and then, then he needed to take the next step and open his own to his padawan learner. Without that, the process they had begun this morning was not complete.

He needed to show Obi-Wan his feelings, whatever they were, even if Qui-Gon wasn't sure himself what his emotions were.

The openness might tear him apart, might rip a new hole in a soul only recently grown accustomed to not bleeding. But it was something that had to be faced, lest he be forced to send Obi-Wan away again, and lose the best influence in his life. To allow Obi-Wan to open himself, and not acknowledge that openness -- that would be careless cruelty.

No matter how difficult he found the task.

Yes, he decided. He would talk to Obi-Wan. The risks were worth the end result, and the consequences of not trying were too much to bear. He would share his emotions.

No matter how much it hurt.

After dinner, they returned to their shared quarters. When Obi-Wan would have disappeared into his own room, Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his padawan's shoulder. "I need to speak with you, Obi-Wan."

"Of course, master."

Qui-Gon sat -- he would definitely need to be sitting for this, he thought, and regarded Obi-Wan steadily as the young man copied his actions. His heart was drumming in his ears, and he'd already been through two calming exercises on the walk back from the dining hall, attempting to still himself. "I have decided to open my mind to you."

Obi-Wan sensed his uncertainty, and learned forward. "I don't understand. Is there a problem, Master?" he asked with concern.

"Not.. precisely," Qui-Gon answered. "I wish to finish what we began this morning, and share my own thoughts with you. It was a difficult decision for me to make, and something I must deal with, however I can."

Obi-Wan's face did not lose any of its concern, but he nodded his obedience.

Qui-Gon set shields around the both of them, and then slowly laid bare the inner recesses of his mind. Even Obi-Wan saw little of this inner, always shielded, part of him. That he saw any of it was a measure of the trust Qui-Gon had in his padawan.

Obi-Wan reached out to him, and Qui-Gon allowed it.

Obi-Wan's probe was not clumsy, but rather smooth and practiced. His apprentice had fine control, the teacher part of his mind noted. The experience of having been in Qui-Gon's mind this morning would also have helped. The more they touched at this level, deeper than their everyday bond required, the more Obi-Wan would know his mind and be able to meld easily with him.

Concentrating, Qui-Gon began to summon up his troubled emotions, bringing them up to the surface for Obi-Wan to examine. He did not fully understand them himself, and was aware that there was a great deal of confusion still mixed in with his other feelings.

That he gave to Obi-Wan first, so that all else would be more easily understood, and then his reactions to Obi-Wan's revelations of the morning. Qui-Gon's feelings, his acceptance of his apprentice, and his disquiet at learning that Obi-Wan's new and disturbing feelings for him were more than a passing fancy.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan react to that disquiet, hurt despite how Qui-Gon had revealed it earlier this morning as well. But this time, instead of holding back, and refusing to go further, Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan look at his past experience with Xanatos as his apprentice, let him see how Qui-Gon had misjudged and eventually failed, how wrong and how foolish he had been.

And felt, to his great surprise, a fierce wave of love wrapping around him, coming from his padawan.

What's wrong? he asked, nonplussed.

You blame yourself, Obi-Wan responded. After all this time, you still blame yourself.

It was no one else's fault, he sent honestly, showing Obi-Wan how truly he meant that. It was his fault.

No. Not your fault. Obi-Wan's thoughts surrounded him protectively. I am so sorry you were hurt.

Tears stung Qui-Gon's eyes, more from Obi-Wan's misplaced kindness rather than any sadness of his own. He opened them, willing Obi-Wan to make eye contact with him. "I was a fool to love. I paid for that mistake."

Speaking disrupted their bond enough to force Obi-Wan, less experienced in the ways of the Force, to speech himself. His eyes met Qui-Gon's defiantly. "But it wasn't your fault, master. He turned."

"And I never sensed it. Loved him despite the evidence that was obvious to the council. Obvious to everyone but me."

Obi-Wan came to him, kneeling next to his chair, resting his head again Qui-Gon's arm. His muffled voice came up from that position, "Is it so wrong then to love, master?"

Qui-Gon's hand came up and he found himself stroking his padawan's hair. He didn't know what to tell Obi-Wan. It had been a mistake for him to love Xanatos, to not see him for what he truly was. And yet, the kind of caring and affection he held for Obi-Wan, or thought he held, was not wrong, was instead perhaps the rightest thing in his life. His confusion welled up again, and he sighed. "I do not know."

Obi-Wan nodded, the movement sliding more of Obi-Wan's spiky hair against the palm of Qui-Gon's hand. "You... this is why you wanted to send me away, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "Because it hurts too much for you to let someone in again. He hurt you too much. Losing him hurt you too much. Trying to reach out to me -- my feelings for you -- they're making you hurt all over again, but you're trying to bear it anyway for my sake." Obi-Wan shifted his head to kiss Qui-Gon's hand, and Qui-Gon felt the wetness of tears brushing against his skin. "You can't hurt yourself for me. I'm not worth that."

He sat back on his heels, staring very seriously at his master. "I... I've been selfish. I knew it when I came back here -- you made the right decision the first time, but you sacrificed yourself to keep me from pain. And now you're hurting worse than before. And it's all because of me."

"No, Obi-Wan--"

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. "I understand now. I do. Thank you for showing me." He brought his shields up around himself, locking himself away from Qui-Gon as fully as he could. "I... I know what I should do now. Don't worry about me. Please, master. I... can't bear knowing that you're hurting because of me."

With that, he stood, and Qui-Gon realized that Obi-Wan was leaving him. Leaving. Him.

Pain shot through him, an angry pain that hurt more than any blow could possibly hurt. "Padawan..."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No." He swallowed a sob. "I will speak to the council about finding me another master. Master Etil will probably help me."

Qui-Gon very much doubted that. The woman had caused more trouble... Eyes burning with his own tears, Qui-Gon stood and crossed the small space that separated him from Obi-Wan, his Obi-Wan, and reached out, grasping his arms. "No, my padawan. Do not go. I want you to remain."

"How can I when my very presence hurts you more?" Obi-Wan's words were a frustrated wail.

"Because it does not." Using his hold on Obi-Wan to strengthen their bond, Qui-Gon opened his mind again, this time holding nothing back. He showed Obi-Wan his confusion again, and his pain, and then the realization he'd only come to today, that Obi-Wan was the only balm his wounded psyche had been willing to accept, that Obi-Wan's trust in him, his love for him, was what had healed him, was healing him.

Obi-Wan sagged against him, concentrating on the mental contact. Oh. Master, I never knew.

Neither did I," Qui-Gon commented ruefully. He guided Obi-Wan to the couch, then sat down next to him. When he had shown Obi-Wan all that was within him, he rested, then spoke aloud, voice gentle. "I don't understand my own feelings, but I am absolutely certain that I want you in my life. I want to accept your emotions in our bond, and would that you accept mine as well, as scanty and haphazard as they are. I cannot promise you more than this -- a knowledge of my own confusion, but I would share it with you nonetheless."

The sun had broken out, and it was Obi-Wan's face. "Thank you, master. Just... thank you."

Qui-Gon took him in his arms, a physical reassurance that Obi-Wan was still there, and simply held him, as they allowed their emotions to move between them, and settle into a new configuration.

Obi-Wan could have fallen asleep on the couch, cradled in his master's embrace. He very much would have liked to. He always felt safe when Qui-Gon was holding him, never mind that most of the times Qui-Gon did so, they were in perilous circumstances, and he was usually badly injured. He still felt safe and comforted there, tonight even more so.

But even that embrace had to end. Obi-Wan still had the memory of that moment, though, to hold and cherish within him.

He could feel the difference in their bond now that they had opened their emotions to each other. Stronger than before, he could feel more of Qui-Gon's emotions, could sense them more easily without Qui-Gon having to consciously will that contact, or be broadcasting his feelings.

And he knew it was the same for his master, because even after he had reluctantly allowed himself to be urged up from the couch and toward his sleeping chamber, he had felt a stab of pain at the loss of contact -- and it had been soothed instantly by Qui-Gon. Instinctively, not like before.

He was accepted fully, and if this was not quite the same as being allowed the full freedom of his love, then it was being allowed to see, being allowed to know that there was a need for comfort and to answer it as best he could given his limited ability to respond in their current relationship. The lines were still rigid around what he could and could not do, but he was allowed to know and that was enough.

For now.

For now he would content himself in working out his entry in the poetry contest. He had until the dinner hour tomorrow to post it, but many people would have spent days or weeks on their poems, and would put them up at first light. And, in any case, now alone in his own room, he couldn't sleep. He'd tried, but there was a hollowness inside him that would not allow for slumber, that kept feeling for the memory of being held by his master, turning it over and over in his mind.

Obi-Wan felt along their bond again, and tasted the reassuring feel of his master sleeping. That comforted him, and he was able to look down again at the words he was composing. He supposed it would be purer to work the poem out in his mind as a mental exercise, but he was having enough difficulty writing it as it was.

Poetry was definitely not his forte.

All he had now were jumbled words and not-quite phrases.

Wisdom is something I wish I'd never heard of
wise men - not Jedi, but still wise, and what
is wisdom anyway?
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge
wisdom = knowledge

And that was about it. Perhaps he could just describe Master Qui-Gon -- leaving names out of it, of course -- and let that serve. His master was his best current definition of wisdom. Look how ably he had handled Obi-Wan's crisis of feeling! He'd solved in days what had felt like a lifetime's worth of pain crashing down. Etil had made it seem like his problems would take years to work out.

But a description of Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't enough. Obi-Wan knew the proverb had more meaning to it than the example of one man -- the set that that proverb was part of was one of the most-discussed subjects in training, at least, at the pre-apprentice level. Qui-Gon was more fond of asking questions he had made up himself, which could be based in the intensely practical, in riddles, or sometimes things his master himself did not know the answer to. Obi-Wan found that kind of question more challenging than the age-worn proverbs.

Of course, he did seem to be struggling with one of those trite old proverbs right now.

Obi-Wan pulled his braid forward, winding it around his index finger as he thought.

He remembered what he'd been taught about the saying, but couldn't bring himself to use answers that were merely recitations of what others believed to be true. No, he needed the answer that was personally true for himself, whatever it was. Needed his own interpretation of something he had thought of so often that it had almost lost its meaning for him.

'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.'

There was a great deal of ignorance in the galaxy. Even for those with knowledge. Master Yoda was very wise, and very knowledgeable, but even he didn't know everything. Even he had places where he was ignorant.

But there was no ignorance. Obi-Wan knew that to be truth. It had to be true. So what did it mean?

He started chewing on the end of his braid, savoring the crunchy feeling as the mass of strands slipped through his teeth.

Was it a statement of how things should be? The goal that all Jedi strove for? That made sense, but yet, Obi-Wan felt that the proverb was simply true. It was not something that had to be made true, it was true. He knew it. Deep inside. He just couldn't figure out why.

Passion, ignorance, death and emotion versus serenity, knowledge, the Force and peace. The reality of life versus life the way it was for the Jedi. A higher kind of life, even if Obi-Wan was still an apprentice and struggling to live it so. The way, he supposed, it could be for everyone if they possessed enough Force to acknowledge it. The Force came from within. It was in everyone and everything. Everyone had the potential to live with the Force, whether they could sense it or not. A person trying to live in tune with the Force without being able to sense it, though, would be like a blinded man attempting to fight a lightsaber duel. It could be done, and done without the guidance the Force provided, but it would be difficult indeed to master.

A person who had done that would be truly wise, much wiser than the Jedi, who had the sense of the Force to guide them.

Serenity, knowledge and peace. Those were the truths of life, whatever masks they might wear. The Force bound it all together.

Obi-Wan let go of his braid, and settled down to write.

Qui-Gon rose at his usual time, refreshed himself, then sat down for his morning meditation. When he came out of meditation, he was mildly surprised that Obi-Wan had not joined him. Had his padawan overslept?

He checked Obi-Wan's room, and did not see him there. The bed was neatly made, no clue there as to whether his apprentice had never slept in it or had slept in it, then tidied it before leaving on whatever errand had taken him away.

He was about to let down the wall he had drawn up last night after his inadvertent response to Obi-Wan's pain, when the door opened. He had soothed that pain without thinking -- the decision to do so had not been made by his conscious mind, had indeed been a response of their newly deepened bond.

Qui-Gon was not yet ready to deal with being that open. More meditation was needed. More experience. He and his padawan could go slowly on this issue now that the exchange of emotions had taken place, Qui-Gon was sure. Slowly, that was the key.

Obi-Wan came in now, took in the scene, and apologized instantly. "I'm sorry, master. I rose early to put up my poem, but there were more people there than I had expected, and I had to wait."

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased that Obi-Wan had entered the contest. "It's of no matter, padawan. Shall we go now to view the entries, or have you had your fill of poetry for the moment?"

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "What I'd like back is the lost sleep, but I would settle for breakfast, master."

"Ah. Just as well. It would be best to survey the entries later in the day, when more people have had a chance to put up their poems."

Obi-Wan smiled again, and Qui-Gon knew then that his apprentice was not at all eager to have his offering compared to the others on the wall. A few days ago, he would have tagged it as humility. Remembering Master Etil's words, he wondered now if it was insecurity. He felt Obi-Wan's emotions, not needing to reach out for them. Had his shields become that weak through mere proximity to his padawan?

But the emotions were there, and Qui-Gon examined them. Yes. Roiling insecurity. An image of the table Obi-Wan had been bent over while working on his poem, and a feeling of futility. The need to make Qui-Gon proud of him.

Qui-Gon reached out both in mind and in body, doing so deliberately, and clasping Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I am pleased you decided to enter the contest, my padawan. I look forward to reading your entry."

That sent another ripple of unease through Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon frowned. He was open to Obi-Wan's emotions now, and presumably Obi-Wan could feel him equally well. Therefore, Obi-Wan had to know that his master had meant the comment sincerely. Is there something wrong?

A hesitation, then, It was no great effort.

No matter what you have entered, I am sure it reflects your heart and mind. You would not do anything carelessly, and I am eager to see this glimpse into how you view the nature of wisdom and knowledge.

Obi-Wan looked down, then spoke aloud. "I wrote something. I... read a few of the other poems as I was waiting. They were all very, very good. What I wrote... doesn't compare. I don't have any great insights to offer. Just the way I see things." He laughed without humor. "And it's not like I can put things all that well anyway."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, catching Obi-Wan's attention with that title, and waiting until Obi-Wan's eyes rose to meet his. "It is your perspective that is valuable. Why do you think life exists in such variety? All of our perspectives are valuable, a little more insight added to the overall fabric."

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked into a smile. "That makes me the dangling thread, then. Perhaps I should get that fixed."

"After breakfast, perhaps," Qui-Gon said compassionately, not quite sure what to say or do. This new awareness of Obi-Wan's feelings was disconcerting. He either had to develop better shielding, or learn quickly how to deal with those feelings.

And it felt somehow wrong to block off this knowledge, go back to seeing Obi-Wan as he had through the pale filter of their original bond. Even if this new knowledge made it seem almost as he was dealing with a new apprentice, another, heretofore hidden, side of the padawan he had been training these several years.

"Master, why are you blocking me out?" Obi-Wan blurted.

It was a presumptuous question, but he could feel his master so much more thoroughly now, and he knew it was happening. After yesterday, he didn't understand why. And he was going to ask. No matter what the answer might be, because the nagging ache inside him would allow no other action.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows in a quizzical sort of way, almost as though he didn't know what Obi-Wan was speaking of. Or perhaps, as if he didn't know why Obi-Wan was speaking of it in one of the corridors of the Jedi temple, where private conversation was a luxury.

But Qui-Gon did not reprimand him. Did instead answer him. "You are right, my apprentice. I have been. Or trying to, at any rate." The corners of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile. "Our new closeness is something I need time to get used to. My response last night to your emotions was... unsettling."

That was one thing about Qui-Gon. When he gave answers, he was honest and open. Obi-Wan didn't know if he could handle so much truth. "You.. do not regret the bond?" he asked cautiously.

A hand clasped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "No, padawan. I have no regrets. It was the best thing to do. I'm simply having difficulty adjusting to it."

Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. He was not having any trouble. Even the touch of his master's hand made him feel much better, chasing away the aloneness and unhappiness he had felt ever since being closed out last night. But then, he'd loved his master for some time now, had become accustomed to picking up as Qui-Gon's thoughts and emotions as best he could, whether he caught them from unshielded moments or from body language or other sources. On the other hand, his master knew him well, better than anyone else. Obi-Wan was aware that Qui-Gon could read his feelings from a long distance away. "How is this bond different?" he asked.

"In some ways, it is not," Qui-Gon replied. "But now I can feel all of your emotions will-you-nil-you, and when we are in close proximity, not even shielding seems to block it effectively. That is quite different."

"Oh. I apologize, master. I will do my best to work on my shielding."

"If I have seemed distant," Qui-Gon continued, "it is because I am trying to be distant, to retain some space between us until I can become adjusted to this new closeness, not because I am rejecting you. A similar thing happened when you first became bonded to me, if you remember."

Obi-Wan didn't remember, although he supposed that the way Qui-Gon had so assiduously tried to push him away when they initially met might be something like this. That assumed that the original bond between them had formed before Qui-Gon had actually accepted him, before that moment in the mines when Qui-Gon had called him 'padawan' for the first time. If so, then it made sense. "I think so."

His master nodded. "It will resolve in time." He smiled at Obi-Wan, a fond smile that made Obi-Wan's heart quicken. "And we certainly have time."

"Excuse me, master? I don't understand."

"I requested that the Council allow us some weeks to resolve your emotional situation. This is not quite the resolution I anticipated, but we still have the time to use. I think a period of adjustment on Coruscant will do us both good."

"Vacation, you mean," Obi-Wan replied, smiling.

"That as well."

They passed through the hall where the poetry was being posted. Obi-Wan was awed by the number of poems already posted, and not sure why he'd bothered to post his at all. This was deeper thought than he was capable of.

But his master did not look at the wall, merely skirted the busy industry in the hallway, and continued on to breakfast.

Obi-Wan hurried to keep up, wishing he had as much composure.

For all that the words he'd told his padawan were true, Qui-Gon's heart felt as heavy as though he'd lied. He felt something he would rather not have felt, something that simply did not make sense for a Jedi master to feel. Depression. An emptiness he did not understand.

He'd had to stop himself from reaching out for Obi-Wan. His apprentice had enough to deal with without his master making additional demands and, in any case, Qui-Gon didn't know how doing so could help him.

Meditation, he decided. That was what he needed -- more meditation.

Although he wasn't certain how that combined with a morning of training Obi-Wan.

After his work in composing his poem, Obi-Wan needed something other than more concentrated thought. Needed a hint of celebration, or of something more taxing physically than mentally. Of course, his apprentice did already have such a training session scheduled with Master Bith in the afternoon, which Qui-Gon was loath to interfere with. Obi-Wan's account of his past training session with the other master had confirmed Qui-Gon's impression that Obi-Wan was learning from the experience. He did not want to interrupt that learning.

But still... what was he to do with the morning?

Confess all and hope his padawan had the answer? Qui-Gon smiled a little at that thought. That wouldn't be appropriate, but perhaps, it was not entirely wrong. Obi-Wan could feel his unease, and especially now that their bond had deepened, it would be best to at least explain what was going on to his padawan. He would do so after the morning meal.

They ate in a companionable silence that was thwarted by the noisy speculation of those around them on the probable outcome of the poetry contest.

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan becoming more uncomfortable by the moment, and wondered what to say. It wasn't as though Obi-Wan needed to be consoled over not winning... Qui-Gon knew that his padawan had no intention of winning. It was something else, something he couldn't quite pick out...

"So, you've finally done it. And messed it up, I see."

Etil. Qui-Gon wondered now why he'd thought of eating at all. In a mild voice, he said, "Are you commenting on the poetry contest?"

She sat down next to Obi-Wan, where she could stare at Qui-Gon. "Hmph. Poetry. It's a waste of time. It's how you live a principle that matters, not how prettily you can put it into words."

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable, and Qui-on felt a surge of protectiveness. How could Etil be so insensitive? Couldn't she see...

And then he realized. Obi-Wan's expression remained as polite and calm as before. It was his inward emotions that Qui-Gon was reacting to. And I can't even tell that that's what they are. He chided himself. He knew better. He'd trained to be better than this. How could a full master be so flummoxed by handling emotion? Perhaps, some part of his mind observed dryly, it was because he had done his best to avoid dealing with his own emotions for so long. "And, no. I'm not talking about poetry," Etil continued. "I'm talking about your bond. I swear, I've never seen such a clumsy attempt before. I know pairs of padawans who've done a better job of bonding than this."

He frowned. "I don't understand what you're getting at. If you must know, we've completed the process of emotion-sharing, but that deepens a bond, it doesn't create one."

Obi-Wan nodded as well.

Good. At least Qui-Gon wasn't losing his mind all on his own.

Etil stared. "Is that what you think you've done? Light save me from feeble-minded Jedi masters. You've bonded to the boy."

Obi-Wan spoke up. "But Master Qui-Gon and I are already bonded."

"Now you are."

Qui-Gon had begun to make some sense out of this odd conversation. Contrary to Etil's accusation, he was not feeble-minded, and he had the perceptiveness to see what she was trying to say, even if he still didn't understand why she was saying it. Unless it were true, of course... but certainly he'd know a thing like that. Wouldn't he? "I acknowledged Obi-Wan's feelings yesterday..." he began cautiously.

"And?"

"And I allowed him to see my own."

"And?"

"And what?" Qui-Gon asked, genuinely puzzled. "That is what took place."

She stared at him hard, as though she could divine his secrets from his face, then made a similar search of Obi-Wan's expression. Finally, she snorted unhappily. "I suppose that could explain why it was done so clumsily. If you didn't intend to do it, then it couldn't have formed any other way. You'll have to repeat it, go through the formal steps and get it smoothed out or you're just going to cause problems for yourselves."

"Master?" Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon for an explanation.

Qui-Gon searched himself for an answer. No, for the answer. Etil was implying that he and Obi-Wan had completed the full soul bond, which would bind them together for all of their days. Something more profound than love, and usually only done as the expression of the deepest love. Pairs so bonded stayed together for their lifetimes, and beyond. He thought he should have known when he ceased to have his own singular soul, when it had become melded inextricably with another's.

And he was somewhat disturbed by the idea that he might have made the change so quickly, with no conscious decision of his own involved.

He couldn't feel a soul bond inside his mind. What he did feel as he searched himself was that welling depression again. That loss, that ache, as though something unbearably precious had been torn from him. Almost as though he had lost half of his soul...

His gaze flicked to Obi-Wan. He was still holding shielding against Obi-Wan, the strongest he could manage. It was not enough to keep him from feeling his padawan's emotions, not with Obi-Wan so close to him, but it was enough to give him a little distance. Enough, perhaps, even to block away a soul-bond.

Qui-Gon let the shielding drop. Completely. He needed to know now, and he didn't dare risk keeping any shielding up for fear that his subconscious might continue to block the knowledge.

The flare of an unguarded mind was bright in the dining hall, and faces turned curiously to them.

Qui-Gon did not care. He felt Obi-Wan's mind rush toward his, the contact completing him, filling up that emptiness and erasing his unspoken sadness. Yes, that was a soul bond. He knew it this time.

Shielding, he told Obi-Wan. We need shielding.

Together they erected a barrier around themselves, one that left them in and everyone else out.

Master, Obi-Wan said, the word an acknowledgement of his presence, and a wondering exclamation all at once.

Yes, my padawan. Yes.

"That's better," Etil said, interrupting. "Still needs some work, but you've at least got it to a level that I wouldn't be ashamed of. If I were a pair of padawans, that is." She rose. "You know where to find me if you need any more help."

They still hadn't looked at her. She stalked off, muttering words under her breath that could only have been heard by herself, the room having become as abruptly noisy with gossip as it had been with speculation over the contest. "Not that you're going to ask for it. Stubborn idiots."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon certainly didn't hear her. I made a mistake, didn't I? Only it was larger than I thought.

No mistake, master. This is what I want. Have been wanting.

This is not what I wanted, Qui-Gon thought.

Master?

Qui-Gon refused to say more in the dining hall. He finished his meal in silence, then stood, waited for his padawan to also rise, and left the room.

He had been taken off-guard by this change in their relationship and now had a large burden to deal with. One that was not entirely welcome. Although, he reflected wryly, he seemed to have found the answer to what he and Obi-Wan were going to do with the morning. Talk seemed very much on the agenda.

He needed to apologize to Obi-Wan for what he had said. It was true -- four days ago, he'd brought Obi-Wan to Coruscant in a misinformed attempt to push his padawan and his padawan's feelings away. And now, incredibly soon, they had formed a soul bond. He was tied forever to the person he had tried to separate from. It was not an unpleasant change, but it was sudden, to say the least. On the few occasions after the disaster with Xanatos that he had considered bonding with someone, he had rejected the idea, not wanting to make the same mistake again. Now his subconscious had made the decision without informing him.

Instead of returning to their quarters, Qui-Gon found a quiet spot in one of the Temple's gardens and took a seat on a bench. He needed the refreshment to be found in the presence of growing things, and suspected Obi-Wan might as well. His padawan dropped down next to him on the stone seat, leaving a small distance between them.

Obi-Wan had an anxious expression, but he did not question his master.

Qui-Gon supposed that the question had already been asked. I am sorry, my padawan.

Master?

I should not have said that to you. It was fact and apology all at once. All through the endless walk from the dining hall, Qui-Gon had felt Obi-Wan's eyes on him and his pain burning through their new bond. He'd injured the young man, and any hurt to Obi-Wan was now hurt to himself as well. At least until the newness of the bond fades, Qui-Gon reminded himself. After some time, we will adjust. I hope. I just...

"Wasn't expecting this, master," Obi-Wan completed for him.

Qui-Gon sighed. At the moment, rapport singing through their bond with the acknowledgement of it in the dining hall, not even his thoughts were safe. Of course, it wasn't as though he had chosen to redo their shielding, which made it as much his fault as that of the soul bond.

His padawan was regarding him with eyes that spoke of inner bruises, inflicted deeply within him.

Qui-Gon felt it as a pool of insecurity and sorrow at being rejected yet again, and had to blink back tears of his own. Obi-Wan was outwardly handling the emotions better, did not have tears showing, but then, Qui-Gon realized, his apprentice had had a great deal of practice at dealing with these emotions. From the very beginning, in fact.

The tears swelled, and he touched the hurting places in Obi-Wan's mind softly, doing his best to soothe the wounds he had inflicted. Again, my padawan, I am sorry.

"Where do we go from here, master?" Obi-Wan asked diffidently. "I did not think a soul bond could be rejected, but if you do not wish for this, then..." His voice trailed off for a moment. "Perhaps the Council could help. Or Master Etil."

Qui-Gon found himself falling into the cadence of a teacher, and felt comfort in that familiar role. "Once formed, a soul bond is extremely difficult to break... I suspect that neither of us would survive the shock. It does not dissolve even in death."

Obi-Wan simply looked at him, and from this, Qui-Gon knew that the young man had placed all of his future into his master's hands. The courage of it humbled Qui-Gon.

"We have circumvented all of the rituals involved in preparing for a soul bond. It is the only explanation I can offer for why my acceptance of it is lacking."

"What then are those rituals?"

He felt Obi-Wan's curiosity, and the barely allowed hope that perhaps speaking of such things might make the bond more real, might hold out hope that it would last. Qui-Gon's throat closed up. Opening his arms, he leaned forward to his padawan, who hesitantly leaned back against him. Qui-Gon folded Obi-Wan close to him, enclosing him in his cloak, wrapping it around him like a bird might wrap feathers around its chicks. Do not fear, padawan. All will be well. I will not reject you now. If it comforts you, I cannot reject you now. We are a part of each other. We will be together always.

The closeness and his master's tenderness combined to break Obi-Wan down, and his tears wet Qui-Gon's tunic. I do not care about rejection. I do not care about the soul bond. I want you to be happy, and I can never be happy if this is not what you want.

Padawan, my padawan. He tugged Obi-Wan more closely to him, holding him mentally as well as physically. I want you. You are needed. You mean a great deal to me, and always have.

Even when you gave me that rock as a birthday present?

Startled, Qui-Gon hesitated, then chuckled and ruffled his apprentice's short hair. "It meant rather more than that."

"I know. Or at least, I know now." Obi-Wan sat up within the circle of his master's arms. I feel much better when I am with you, when you are touching me. When you are not... Images of a dark something chasing him came through their bond, and an immense gap of loneliness yawning before his feet. I suppose I must need more meditation, but all of a sudden, these past few days, I cannot control my emotions.

That will pass. We must complete the ritual of soul bonding. I suspect that part of your unease is that we have not. Uncompleted... it seems as though it might be torn away at any moment, as though it is a precarious thing. I have felt that depth of despair as well.

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face dry with his sleeve. Surely not you, master.

Even I. "A soul bond is a profound thing, my padawan. Even a master may be intensely affected by it."

A wistful thought drifted to the forefront of Obi-Wan's mind, something that once would have gone unnoticed, and now lay there as clearly as if Obi-Wan had spoken it. Does this mean you love me then?

Qui-Gon knew he was as open to Obi-Wan. "Yes. How could I help it?"

But do you want to?

Now? His private thoughts were as open to Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan's were to him. He means in the sense of returning his feelings of love. In wishing to meld with him entirely. And it has been so long since I contemplated any such thing. I know I have avoided it until now. But if I could... I remember feeling lonely this morning with my shields grasped tight around me. I have never felt so complete as the moment when I opened them and he came in. Is that then love? Perhaps, when we complete the rituals, I will know. We have gone at this backward, accomplished the bond before making sure of our readiness. I do not know what I feel except certain that I do not wish to push Obi-Wan away.

That's enough, master, Obi-Wan said gently into his mind. For now.

Oh? Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who was staring up at him with a silly grin on his face. You have ambitions then?

Large ones, master.

Good. He pulled Obi-Wan back against him, both men finding necessary comfort in the embrace.

Obi-Wan looked at the reader again. After returning from the gardens, Qui-Gon had insisted that he review a text on soul bonds before they took things any further. And had promptly disappeared for his own meditation, telling Obi-Wan that he would return in time so that they could survey the poetry before dinner.

Dinner. That was a whole half-day away.

Sighing, he returned his concentration to the book. He missed his master already. Their talk in the garden had not resolved his emotions, had only left them in a tighter knot as he waited to find out what would happen.

Of course, the text was a form of assistance. And, remembering what Qui-Gon had said about not breaking the soul bond, Obi-Wan felt his mouth lifting into a smile. They would be together. No matter what. They would be together.

The volume was one he had not read before. Soul bonds weren't something he'd needed to study as a junior or as an apprentice. He'd heard of soul bonds, of course, but mostly only in the sense of knowing who had one. The recent revelation that such things were expected, even commonplace, and that master/apprentice bonds frequently formed into soul bonds -- that had been news to him.

The text explained soul bonds, recapitulating the little he already knew, and confirming what Qui-Gon had told him today. The soul bond lasted forever -- when one half of a bonded pair died, the living half could still sense its partner. Yet another example that there was no death, there was the Force, Obi-Wan presumed. Very rarely was a soul bond dissolved. Even when one partner had gone over to the Dark Side, it was known for the bond to remain. Obi-Wan shivered. He didn't like to think about something like that happening.

He read that the usual way for a bonding to proceed was for the possibility of a bond to be recognized, and emotions to be shared. A soul bond could be a considered decision, he learned, or a pressing need, depending on various factors.

But in all cases, the book recommended that, before the bond was formed, certain rituals be performed.

With morbid curiosity, he read the reasons why it was best to complete the rituals first. The rituals helped to ease the transition, and prepare the mind as Qui-Gon had said. They consequence of not doing so could be as little as a failed bond or as much as insanity. No wonder Master Etil had approached them.

If, he read, a true bond did form without the use of ritual and was stable, then there was no cause for action. However, the volume cautioned, the rarity of soul bonding in the past was largely due, not to poor identification of possible pair-bonds, but rather to inadequate preparation of those pairs for the soul-bond.

Obi-Wan wasn't certain about that. It seemed to him that it would be more difficult to find the right person to soul bond with. Of course, there was what Master Etil had said about love being a choice rather than a destiny...

The rituals themselves seemed simple to Obi-Wan, although his breathing quickened as he read through them. Thinking on them made his situation more real to him, something so overwhelming that he could barely encompass the whole of it.

First, Preparation. Each person needed to be readied for the process. Meditation, practice in dropping shielding completely, and counselling over choices accompanied this stage.

Second, Mastering the Emotional. The couple would withdraw, and complete a deeper sharing of feelings. This was extremely important, and the author of the text advised that any hesitation or blockage of emotion or shielded place be cause for the bonding to be called off, and the participants to re-examine themselves.

I think that's why we have a problem, Obi-Wan thought. Because Master Qui-Gon hasn't resolved his feelings yet.

He read further. Third, Mastering the Physical. If the second stage of the ritual was successfully completed, then the pair would bare themselves physically as they had mentally. Acceptance had to be found there as well. Obi-Wan momentarily imagined being entwined together with his master in Qui-Gon's bed, then sighed. It was probably a very boring ritual.

Fourth, Attempting The Bond. When full acceptance of each other had been found and verified, the pair would be allowed to attempt a lesser bond than the soul bond. For them, that would be unnecessary, he supposed. They already had their student-teacher bond.

Fifth, Decision. There would be more meditation, and then finally, the sixth stage, Bonding, in a ceremony before witnesses -- specifically, 'with healers present' -- the pair would complete the soul bond.

Obi-Wan wondered which stage his master wished them to repeat. Meditation was a given -- they would meditate over this whether it was a required part of ritual or no. The emotional acceptance perhaps. Qui-Gon might feel more comfortable if they attempted that stage again, as it seemed to be the cause of why they had not fully finished the bond they currently had. The physical acceptance he skipped over. They'd spent a great deal of time in each other's company, and were physically comfortable with each other. If it mattered, he was attracted to his master, and he knew that he was attractive. Problems there seemed unlikely. And they already had a lesser bond. Which left the formal ceremony. Perhaps that was also a cause of their problems -- the lack of deliberate choice in forming the soul bond. That then, they should repeat, and he would look forward to repeating. Public acknowledgement of his bond with Qui-Gon -- that would be satisfying.

Obi-Wan closed the text and decided to have the noon meal in their quarters. He did not wish to face the wall of poetry right now. Tonight would be soon enough.

But try as he might, his mind kept returning to a passage of the text. 'A soul bond does not mean love, or even happiness. It means being bound together until the end of days, sharing one another's feelings for good or ill. A bonded pair can grow to hate one another, and share that hate, as easily or more easily than they might share joy. For this reason, if no other, a soul bond should not be entered into lightly.'

Qui-Gon hoped that their talk in the gardens had calmed Obi-Wan's torn emotions. His awareness of Obi-Wan through their new bond said otherwise -- his padawan was still distressed over something. Unless he concentrated, the distance between them allowed him to avoid involuntarily reading his apprentice's thoughts, and Qui-Gon did so instinctively, giving Obi-Wan as much privacy as could exist in their situation.

His meditations had left him more certain of his course, if only because it could not now be avoided. They were soul-bonded. What was, was. It could not be argued with or refused. It existed, and he must bend to that reality. Or be broken by it, and see Obi-Wan broken as well.

The questions that still troubled him involved his own unreadiness for this bond. He had not anticipated it. Even when he had come to acknowledge Etil's insistence that he must at least recognize Obi-Wan's feelings if he wanted to keep the young man as his padawan, Qui-Gon had not considered going further into reciprocation. His self-protective distance kept him from repeating mistakes of the past, of which love was one, and it had served well to keep him from the deepest emotions for years. There was no emotion; there was peace. He'd had peace.

No longer.

Now... he loved Obi-Wan. And could no longer keep himself separate from his padawan. At the moment, with their bond still raw and rough-edged, he felt the pulling need for Obi-Wan's presence. A craving that he would have liked to say he kept in check by exerting control. Except that wasn't true. Instead, Obi-Wan was at the back of his mind, now that his shielding was down to permit it. Putting the shielding back in place would be painful. Even now the lack of his padawan being fully present both physically and mentally hurt, and he knew it must be the same for Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon was not sure whether that craving for Obi-Wan would lessen or increase when the bond was fully completed. It seemed likely that when the rawness diminished, then the need would lessen as well because it had been fulfilled, and Obi-Wan would always be with him.

And then... then there was a final issue. He closed his eyes, pushing any disturbing emotions out into the Force, allowing it to clarify his mind. There weren't enough words for what he needed to understand. Already his heart was opening to Obi-Wan. Already, he needed him, needed his comfort and his self. Soon they would be mates and lovers as well as everything they already were to each other, and while he thought Obi-Wan would be ready -- and eager -- for such a thing, it stunned Qui-Gon.

He remembered the feelings about his apprentice that he had not allowed himself to have. The moments when he had not been able to avoid Obi-Wan's emotions or his needs, as much as masterly composure demanded that he be accepting and calm. Obi-Wan wanted him, Qui-Gon had no doubt of that. But he... with all of his failure and years of pushing that side of himself away... what would he do? Would this conspire to cripple their bond?

He did not want it to. Was becoming increasingly aware that he wanted -- and needed -- Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon wondered, not for the first time, what his subconscious had been thinking.

After his meditations, and a trip to the wall where the poetry contest was being held, Qui-Gon returned to their shared quarters. Obi-Wan was still with Master Bith. He surveyed the room. They would need to move to different quarters. These living arrangements would shortly no longer be appropriate. He wondered how he had slept the night before -- Obi-Wan had not slept at all well, and Qui-Gon had a good idea why.

This forced dependence on another was not something Qui-Gon was accustomed to. If the person he had to depend on was someone other than his beloved padawan, he did not think he could do it. With Obi-Wan... Qui-Gon still hoped that the adjustment to the bond would be quick.

He felt that same hollowness inside himself again, only this time, unlike at breakfast, was unshielded to Obi-Wan, and felt an immediate pulse of reassurance. I'm on my way, master.

You have finished your lesson, have you not?

Yes, Master.

Qui-Gon caught an impression of a naked, dripping wet padawan hastily drying off and stuffing himself into a set of robes, then turned his mind away from that image as best he could.

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan hurried through the door and went straight to his master, who sat on his bed, looking blankly at the wall.

Obi-Wan stopped beside him. "Are you all right, master?" He reached out daringly, touching his master's shoulder with his hand.

Qui-Gon covered it with his own.

No more needed to be said out loud.

I need you, Obi-Wan... and I'm not used to needing anyone. Images of emptiness and the emotion of frustration came through clearly. He communicated the results of his meditation, despite the private nature of his thoughts. Obi-Wan needed to know. Needed to understand why his master was hesitating, and what a flimsy barrier was holding Qui-Gon back from the full commitment they both needed now. I am setting a poor example for you, my padawan.

Obi-Wan sagged into a sitting position next to his master, his hand slipping down to Qui-Gon's back. He rested his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder, seeking to comfort as much as he needed to be comforted. It felt no more than a logical extension of what had come before.

They swayed into each other's arms slowly, as though both their minds and bodies were tired of fighting anymore.

With a sigh, Qui-Gon let himself fall backward onto the bed, taking Obi-Wan with him.

Obi-Wan curled his head into the corner of Qui-Gon's shoulder.

This was not quite what I had in mind, padawan.

I'd do anything to avoid seeing the results of the poetry contest.

Qui-Gon chuckled affectionately. You probably would. But without reason. You will have done well no matter how you do.

Obi-Wan would have levered himself up to give his master a long stare, but he didn't feel like moving. He had just come from a training session, never mind that it should not have taken up so much of his energy as to collapse him here as he was. Not to mention his master's unaccustomed openness... What's happening to us, master?

Qui-Gon was comfortable and contented now that Obi-Wan was both physically and mentally there with him. We are, no doubt, experiencing the effects of the soul-bond. If you've done your reading?

I did it. I still don't understand.

What is happening to us is the need to master the physical.

Obi-Wan blushed despite himself.

What Obi-Wan was thinking about carried clearly over to Qui-Gon. Yes, and no.

Yes? There was a possibility of a yes? Obi-Wan listened closely.

A Force bond may form between individuals of any race, species, gender, or relation.

Obi-Wan nodded mentally. That made sense. He had thought of it, but it slotted neatly into what he felt to be true about bonds. He would love Qui-Gon if he were a hundred years older, sixty years younger, female, or even Yoda.

I'm not so old as that, padawan.

But? Obi-Wan prompted, wanting very much to hear this.

Qui-Gon felt amused affection for Obi-Wan, which transmitted instantly through their bond, and his padawan snuggled more deeply into the crook of his shoulder. He could easily grow very fond of Obi-Wan's touch.

But the demand of the bond is to be together as completely as is possible. Mentally and physically. At the moment, that seems to mean that we have difficulties when we are apart, but that should ease. It should. I have, after all, seen partners in life-bonded pairs walking around without being tied to their partner.

As completely as possible? Obi-Wan wondered what his master meant by that. He didn't ask directly -- it seemed too bold -- but Qui-Gon read the thought anyway.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's body lying close to his, Obi-Wan lying on his side, stretched out along Qui-Gon's body. And felt the urge for more. How was Obi-Wan handling the feeling? He did not need to dip into Obi-Wan's mind to find his answer. Ah. Obi-Wan is used to this thwarted desire.

Yes, master, Obi-Wan said simply.

Qui-Gon felt pity for his apprentice, and a certain sort of awed pride that Obi-Wan had successfully dealt with these feelings for so long. We are physically compatible -- enough, at any rate -- and not forbidden by taboo or law to engage in a sexual relationship. It will probably happen.

Obi-Wan's mind touch had altered, but his response was the same. Yes, master.

Qui-Gon's reservations did not ease.

Obi-Wan sensed his master's turning away. If you don't want me... he began, wistfully regretful.

Qui-Gon caught the self-blame in that thought. Everything is not your fault, Obi-Wan. Very little is your fault, in fact. It is I who am to blame here. There is nothing lacking in you.

Only a padawan's trust in his master kept Obi-Wan from completely disbelieving it. There had to be something wrong with him, and in any case, he was ashamed of himself, and of how he was pushing his master into something Qui-Gon did not want. Obi-Wan wanted desperately to move now, to get up and remove himself from how he was shamelessly draped over his master.

He needed to move. His pride demanded it. His hurting heart demanded it.

But the bond would not permit it.

And neither would the strong arms that had suddenly clasped him close.

You are precious to me, Obi-Wan. More so now than before, and, a fierce wave of protectiveness, there is nothing, NOTHING, wrong with you.

But you don't want...

All of the walls Qui-Gon had put up were being torn down, and he could not bear the hurt in Obi-Wan because it was in him also. My love, I need you as badly as you need me. There is no resisting a soul-bond. I have already done enough damage by trying. It will happen. Despite my hesitation, despite my desire to grab what is right in front of me, it will happen, and in that, I must try to find peace.

Qui-Gon found himself on the brink of tears, and then realized it wasn't him. It was Obi-Wan. He pulled his padawan higher, until Obi-Wan was half lying on his chest and he could see Obi-Wan's face. Tears, my Obi-Wan?

Of gratitude only, I assure you, master.

And then Obi-Wan kissed him, dipping his head.

Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan's lips, returning the soft pressure and reassuring his padawan that the kiss was welcome. His hands came up to cradle Obi-Wan's head, long fingers brushing the tears away.

Then Qui-Gon gently but firmly put Obi-Wan aside.

We must wait, my Obi-Wan, and complete the bonding rituals properly this time. We cannot risk another mishap. For both of us, our continued sanity depends on it.

Obi-Wan scarcely heard him, dazed. If this was the result of a mere kiss, he didn't know if he would survive the mastering of the physical.

Qui-Gon chuckled again, and sat up. His hand reached out for Obi-Wan's, not yet willing to let their still-tenuous connection to lapse. "There is poetry to study, padawan."

And poetry here as well, Obi-Wan thought, allowing himself to be chivvied from the bed and on to more intellectual pursuits.

-to be continued-

As they made their way to the dining hall, Obi-Wan followed at his master's elbow out of long-standing habit rather than conscious choice. He could not have made a conscious choice right then, anymore than he could have not followed Qui-Gon.

Their bond seemed to have only grown stronger as a result of what had happened back in their room.

It has. We must complete the bonding soon lest the force of it seeking completion overwhelm us. If the bond is not completed before then...

What?

Qui-Gon shrugged mentally. It is not a matter for alarm. The most likely possibility is that we will simply be forced to complete it at a time we are not ready for.

Obi-Wan had a brief mental picture of the two of them lying together on the floor of the Council room, with Yoda giving advice, and brushed it away as a distraction. He remembered the pain of the morning and of the previous evening, caused by the bond and knew what the real consequences might be. They needed to master their bond, not have the bond master them. I don't want to risk that, master.

It is only a possibility. We will move forward with the bonding this evening, beginning with the stage of meditation.

Obi-Wan felt great relief at knowing the process was beginning, which left him as they approached the hall where the poetry had been inscribed on the walls. He regulated his breathing, and did his best to convince himself that he was being silly over nothing.

Masters, padawans and juniors gathered around indiscriminately, reading the poetry that had been posted. Most read in silence, but there was still a considerable amount of conversation going on for the normally quiet and contemplative Jedi.

Which one is yours, Obi-Wan? his master asked.

Obi-Wan fought an urge to say 'Guess'.

I heard that.

Qui-Gon moved to study the entries, looking every inch the thoughtful Jedi master. Obi-Wan hovered behind him, trying his best not to read anything.

While their bond, strong in their physical closeness, simultaneously fed every line his master read directly to him.

Yes, this was going to take some getting used to.

          There is no knowledge.  Only ignorance.

Very Dark Side of the author.

I could come up with something better than that, Obi-Wan thought.

As I told you, my padawan.

Qui-Gon moved on to the next poem.

          When everything is the Force,

          boundaries are artificial constructs of mind.

          Ignorance comes from boundaries.

          There are no boundaries,

          there is no ignorance,

          there is only infinity.

And then the next.

          There is no ignorance

          there is no knowledge

          without ignorance, without knowledge

These were the kind of entries Obi-Wan had become intimidated by. He didn't quite understand them, and he knew there was something more going on with them, something profound he could not even hope to grasp.

You will, came the reassuring thought from Qui-Gon.

And still more entries, until Obi-Wan could scarcely take them all in.

          Knowledge is knowing

          what you do not know.








          petals scattering on the ground

          wisdom's flower

          has a displeasing smell.








          A knowledgeable man knows best

          what he did wrong.

Qui-Gon finished reading the last poem, and Obi-Wan held his breath as Qui-Gon turned his head in the direction of his poem. His master glanced at him, a slight smile touching his lips. Then and only then did Obi-Wan remember that his master knew almost every thought in his head, and his distress had only shown his master where to look for his entry. This is embarrassing, he thought.

We will both become accustomed to it. There is no reason to be embarrassed, padawan. We are one.

Obi-Wan didn't find much comfort in that. He'd still rather it was Qui-Gon's poem on the wall than his own.

But Qui-Gon had found his entry, and was reading it.

          a wise man is one

          who is in tune with the Force

          even when he does not know

          the Force exists





          the Force is everywhere

          and everywhere it is

          is life

You found your answer.

Yes, master.

I shall have to devise another question.

Obi-Wan groaned inwardly, but still, a part of him basked in the glow of his master's approval.

After Qui-Gon had finished surveying all the poetry he wished to read, they moved into the dining hall and sat down for the evening meal.

The conversation of the day before had not abated, had indeed increased. Obi-Wan ignored the speculation over who would win the poetry contest. He had more interesting things to think about.

Such as the ritual of Mastering the Physical.

Of course, it would help if he could maintain any kind of shielding against Qui-Gon, who had the most amused look in his eyes.

Perhaps it would be better to talk about poetry.

"Which poem did you like best, master?" he asked out loud. It was a weak subject change, as Obi-Wan already knew which one Qui-Gon had favored, but Qui-Gon allowed it.

"It is not an issue of preference, but rather one of expression. My own reaction is based more in which poem resonates with me and my personal experience with the koan."

Obi-Wan took pleasure in the simple conversation with his master. The words seemed to help mask the constant flow of emotion between them. He needed that, because he was becoming overloaded by the flood of emotion coming his way through the bond.

They talked quietly throughout dinner, patiently awaiting the announcement of the winning poem and the holder of the new Council seat. Finally, the departing Council member stood, and a gentle wave of the Force sent the message through the hall that quiet would be appreciated.

When she spoke into that silence, her voice was Force-enhanced so that it could be heard throughout the large room. "I have made my decision. I offer my seat to the author of the following poem:

          ignorance is knowledge

          waiting to happen

A young man with a padawan's braid stood up.

Obi-Wan felt his shock reverberating to Qui-Gon, and made an attempt at calming himself.

But not before his master noticed. Is it so strange that a padawan might win? I believe we've discussed this.

Yes, master, it is strange. I did not believe that it could happen.

If it calms you, that padawan is here on Coruscant to take his knight's trials. If he passes, he will be only one of many knights who have held a Council seat.

Obi-Wan quieted his concerns. His master was right, and in any case, his opinion did not matter. Tonight, something more important would happen. They would meditate and begin to prepare themselves for the bonding. What concerns you most about the bonding ritual, master?

His master was outwardly silent, but his thoughts were not hidden.

We have far to go. I have not yet mastered my feelings, although my meditations have aided me.

Obi-Wan had felt that in Qui-Gon's acceptance of him in their quarters, and nodded mentally.

Then there is the physical. Qui-Gon waited.

Obi-Wan felt a brief moment's resentment, then freedom, as he realized what his master had stopped for and why. The resentment came from knowing that his master had paused to get his reactions -- and knowing that he, Obi-Wan, could not prevent Qui-Gon from seeing all of his reactions, in their full embarrassing detail.

And the freedom came from realizing he had nothing to be embarrassed about. That Qui-Gon knew, and accepted, and soon, they would be acting on them.

Exactly.

Obi-Wan felt his master's pride in his perception, and smiled.

Come, padawan. There is something I wish you to see.

They made their way out of the dining hall. Qui-Gon led him to the wall where the poetry was posted, threading their way through an undiminished group of readers.

Obi-Wan was not sure why he'd been brought there. Hopefully, not to memorize everything there.

No, Obi-Wan. Not that.

He looked where his master indicated, and saw a poem.

This, his master sent softly. Read this.

Obi-Wan looked at the poem and obediently began to read.

          I.




          No ray of sun, moon or star

          touches the ground of Coruscant.

          The planet's lifeless soil

          supports the weight of buildings

          and the buildings the weight of a galaxy.




               I asked the Jedi master,

               "What is the answer?  Where is the truth?"

               "Over there.  Here," she replied.




          The past is gone

          covered by constructs of mind.

          Without it,

          I am unable to take hold of my future.




          The murky light

          obscures

          the bottom of my heart.




               How can there be a new beginning

               when no life is left

               to begin again?









          II.




          The Jedi master loved his padawan.

          Teacher, mentor, father --

          he would be lover if he could.

          His padawan is brilliant.  Soon to be knight, his master

               knows his worth,

          and the Jedi master is sworn to poverty.




               Pay for the smell of food

               with the

               sound

               of money




          When the padawan is lost

          to arrogance and greed,

          his love curdled,

          the master believes he will never

          love again.




               Love is not the strongest bond.

               Hate is.




          The sun is gone now,

          the buildings built.




          When another padawan finds him

          the master turns away.

          No life could grow

          in this lightless ground.




               The shoot stretches up to

               find the sun,

               not knowing

               the sun is gone.








          III.




          The future unknown,

          the pain incalculable,

          the reward unknowable,

          the way unknown.




          Without examination, is there thought?

          Without feeling, is there emotion?

          Without light, how can new life form?




               If you feel not,

               do you live not?

               Do you die not?

               What then is the purpose of not feeling?








          IV.




          Transplanted into the Temple garden,

          the new shoot grows under Jedi hands.

          Transplanted into a new bond,

          the heart grows again.




               Tend the plants, make the bed.

               This is the secret of life.

               Hide it well -- tell everyone.

You wrote this, didn't you, master? Obi-Wan asked, awed and honored all at once.

Yes, I did.

Obi-Wan wished desperately that they were not in public. He wanted to reach out to his master, whether to comfort or be comforted, he did not know.

A hand met his upper arm, answering his silent request. There is no reason we can not touch.

He controlled a laugh. What he wanted was not a mere touch of a hand on robe-covered skin, but to pull himself into the curve of Qui-Gon's shoulder and sob.

A mental embrace enfolded him, letting him know his master shared his wish for closeness. Better?

Yes. A pause, then, Master... thank you.

You are welcome, Obi-Wan. While in meditation this morning, I had a realization. I have come to accept our bond. I think it already means a great deal to me.

I think you mean everything to me.

Qui-Gon shifted his hand to Obi-Wan's other shoulder, his arm around the padawan, and steered him through the crowd of Jedi reading the poetry.

He dropped his arm as they moved into a more open portion of the hallway.

They remained outwardly quiet, but inwardly, Obi-Wan was still reflecting on the content of the poem he'd just read, Qui-Gon's supporting presence in his mind.

He's willing to take a chance... no, not a chance -- he thinks I'm bringing light into his life. He marveled at that thought. Him? Be able to do something like that for anyone? Much less his beloved master?

It was what he'd wanted for so long, and he was dazzled by the unexpected fulfillment of his wish. Qui-Gon wanted him, needed him. Would allow him to reach out finally.

Obi-Wan did then, throwing out a mental hand to his master, who caught it as though he'd already been holding it and would always be holding it.

'I do need you' was the half-formed response in Qui-Gon's head, but he could not bring him to say it so baldly. He'd already said so in different words, but why could he not do it now? After all this, I still can't admit to needing him, came the thought from Qui-Gon, shared without conscious decision to do so.

I think you just did, master.

Obi-Wan caught another wash of feeling from his master. Resigned now to their bond, Qui-Gon was able to accept that Obi-Wan was there and would be there. Able to accept. Still not quite capable of relying on the bond, of expressing what he had so long kept hidden.

I think you said it best in your poem, master.

Hmm?

The shoot is beginning to grow. It is not the adult plant.

Wisdom from the mouths of padawans.

They entered their quarters, and Obi-Wan moved immediately to fetch the meditation mats. He spread them out on the floor of the common room. Qui-Gon joined him, as they knelt down, ingrained habit governing their actions.

So quickly were they transported from one state to another. Obi-Wan felt a little off-balance from the speed of it.

Qui-Gon's mental voice was as calm and soothing as his speaking voice. Think about the bonding. Bring up any doubts, any fears, any negative thoughts you may have, and examine them thoroughly. Every concern you have should be dealt with.

What about you, master? Obi-Wan asked. He had wanted this, Qui-Gon had not.

Wryly, I also. Perhaps more so.

First, before he began, Obi-Wan hesitantly reached out to his master. He could do this now, it was allowed, he reminded himself. More certainly then, Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon's mind, offering his own strength to add to his master's.

Qui-Gon lifted his head to look into Obi-Wan's eyes, his own wet. I have been a fool not to see what was here before me. Forgive me, please.

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