Master Apprentice Archive Convergence Quick search:

Archive: M_A, anyone else please ask.

Category: Angst, AU

Pairing: Q/O. Obi-Wan is eighteen.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Takes the JA universe and twists the hell out of it.

Disclaimers: Lucas. Lucas. Lucas.

Feedback: Is treasured.

Notes: Thanks to Paula for the inspiration: thanks to my super betas, Paula and kimberlite.

/this indicates telepathy/

Summary: an AU in which Qui-Gon Jinn's past catches up to him in many different ways.

Obi-Wan walked out of the showers, his feet dragging dejectedly, the words of Qui-Gon Jinn ringing in his ears.

"...Better not to train...so much anger..."

He fought against tears. Qui-Gon was his last chance. Now what? Now he was doomed to a life of drudgery, stuck in the Agri-Corps. All those years of lessons and drills and meditations...useless. He'd be encouraging muja fruit to grow. Wonderful.

The MONUMENT was docked at the landing platform, waiting for him to board.

He shifted his bags and plodded down the hall.

"Obi-Wan."

He wheeled abruptly.

He hadn't seen or heard the woman standing behind him. She was tall and robust, with dark hair wound around her head. She wore the beige tunic and stola of a Jedi Knight. She smiled widely.

Obi-Wan bowed. "Good evening," he said politely. He'd been taught courtesy, at least, and why be rude now?

"I am Cenchrea Teresh."

He nodded, not sure what to say.

"I saw you fight today."

He sighed inwardly. "Yes."

"That boy you fought..."

"Bruck Chun."

"I take it he's not a friend of yours." Her tone was friendly, but her gaze was keen.

"No. He is not a friend." No, not a friend, he thought bitterly. Bruck had prevented Obi-Wan from finding out about Qui-Gon's arrival. It had taken Yoda to inform him that the tall Jedi was in search of a padawan.

"You fought somewhat aggressively, I thought."

Great. Qui-Gon had said practically the same thing. Now he was going to hear it from another knight. Couldn't he just board the MONUMENT, find his room, and not come out until they got to Bandomeer? Well, he was tired of defending himself.

"Yes. So I was told."

Her eyebrows arched. "Oh, you were, were you? By whom, if I may ask?"

"By Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Ah. So that's it." She folded her arms and looked him in the eye. He dared not look away. Her eyes were penetrating, focused on him.

"You had hoped to become his padawan."

"Yes." He was horrified to hear his voice hitch. Blast, he sounded like a baby!

"May I tell you something in confidence?"

"Of course, " he said.

"Qui-Gon Jinn tortures himself needlessly. He hasn't taken a padawan in years. Every year he comes to the Temple, observes the students, and leaves alone. He raises the hopes of the senior initiates, and dashes them to the ground again." She shook her head. "He is a great Jedi. But I don't think that he'll ever take an apprentice again."

Obi-Wan was fascinated despite his drooping spirits. "Is it because of his last padawan?"

"What do you know about his last padawan?"

"I've heard that Qui-Gon killed him in a fierce battle. That the padawan had turned to the Dark Side."

Knight Teresh looked stunned for a moment. "No! Where did you hear that?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Around...you mean he didn't kill him?"

"No, he didn't kill him. Force, Temple gossip..." said Knight Teresh, her face clouding.

"Oh."

She seemed to rouse herself. "I think we've discussed Qui-Gon Jinn enough, don't you? I didn't come here to talk about him. I came to see if you'd like to join me for a late supper."

Obi-Wan swallowed a lump in his throat. The conversation had made him briefly forget his new fate.

"That's very kind of you," he said. "But I'm leaving for Bandomeer, and there's a ship waiting..." he indicated the bags in his hands. "I have to...um..." The lump had grown, and he was furious with himself. He wasn't going to cry in front of a Jedi knight, was he?

Just let me get to my room, he begged silently. Then I'll...I'll...

Cenchrea Teresh looked down at the woebegone young face. Brave boy, she thought. She smiled at him kindly.

"I've just come back to Coruscant from a year-long mission myself," she said. "I was on Tatooine, overseeing an attempt to organize the populace for Senate representation. I failed miserably," she concluded cheerfully.

Obi-Wan looked at her in surprise. "You did?"

She nodded. "Apparently the populace preferred not to be represented in the Senate." Her mouth twisted wryly. "Did you think that all Jedi missions were successful?"

"Well, I...no, I guess not."

"Hm. You'd be surprised, Obi-Wan. We can't work miracles...at any rate, Tatooine was a desolate place. Filthy, full of gangsters, bounty hunters, slavers, drug traders...the lowest life-forms in the galaxy. It was wretched, to be honest. I hope you never have to go there."

Don't worry, thought Obi-Wan glumly. I'll probably be stuck on Bandomeer for the rest of my life.

As if in mocking answer to his thoughts, a voice echoed throughout the landing platform corridor.

"The MONUMENT departs in one hour. The MONUMENT departs in one hour. Will all passengers please board immediately."

He bowed slightly to Cenchrea Teresh. "Thank you for the kind invitation. I must leave." He turned and began trudging away, staring miserably at the floor. All the talk of missions made his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to get away and not have to think or speak.

"Obi-Wan...wait."

He faced her again.

"I suppose I should stop being so dodgy."

Oh, please, please, let me go, he thought. He couldn't stand it any more.

"I, too, am in search of a padawan."

His breath caught in his chest.

"But I thought that Qui-Gon was the only one-"

She waved a hand. "I've never taken a padawan before, Obi-Wan. I asked the Council not to inform the hopeful candidates that I was looking...I couldn't bear the disappointment of those not chosen. I don't know how Qui-Gon does it year after year," she added, more reflectively.

"I've been observing you for a few days now," she continued. "You battle your anger daily, do you not?"

"Yes."

"It is a difficult struggle, Obi-Wan. Anger is not easy to overcome. But I sense potential in you. I would hate to see you become a farmer. I think you have more to offer than encouraging the growth of muja fruit," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Was he that transparent?

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

Obi-Wan's gaze bore into her. "Does that mean...does that mean that you want to take me as your padawan?"

She grinned at him. "Let's just say that I'm taking the matter into very serious consideration, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now...shall we eat? I'm starving."

Hope dawned anew in Obi-Wan's eyes. He nodded, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"There you are. You're much better looking when you smile, you know."

He closed his mouth, blushing and embarrassed...then beamed as she grinned at him. She stepped forward and ruffled his still-wet hair. They looked at each other, smiling, then began to chuckle. Soon they were both laughing uproariously. Obi-Wan dropped his bags, and Knight Teresh clapped a hand over her mouth as a master and his padawan walked by, glancing at them curiously.

"I don't even know why I'm laughing," said Obi-Wan, though he did, or he thought he did, anyway...it was hysterical relief.

Cenchrea wiped her eyes. "Oh...I think we're going to have an interesting relationship, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I like you already." Suddenly she was sober. "I don't know if there's a proper way to do this, if there are words I'm supposed to say...maybe we should be somewhere more meaningful. The docking corridor is not the most awe-inspiring place."

"Well, now's a good time as any, I suppose." She took him by the shoulders and bent slightly until she was eye to eye with the boy.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi...will you do me the honor of becoming my padawan?"

His heart soared, and he looked steadily into the warm honey-brown eyes of his new master.

"The honor is mine, Master Cenchrea Teresh."

They smiled at each other. Cenchrea let him go.

"Find a place to stow those bags."

Obi-Wan dashed back into the showers and tossed his bags into a corner. He'd retrieve them later. He hurried back into the corridor where Master Teresh waited.

"Now...supper."

He nodded and started off in the direction of the dining hall. Cenchrea caught him by the arm.

"Oh, no, no, no, Padawan-"

Padawan, he thought. Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"-I thought that we'd celebrate tonight. There's a cafe I like on Idrun Street. We'll go there." She took off in the direction of the landing platform. Obi-Wan's long legs carried him past her quickly.

"Hey, slow down." He turned and noticed that she was several paces behind him, limping slightly.

His face flamed. Not off to a very good start, dolt, he thought. "Sorry, Master."

"Don't give it another thought. Just slow down."

"Are you injured, Master?" he asked solicitously, trying to compensate for his thoughtlessness.

She smiled. "A souvenir from Tatooine," she said. "Did you know that Hutts are impervious to Force suggestion?"

"No."

"Neither did I," she said.

They passed the MONUMENT, a boxy Corellian barge, on their way to a droid taxi station. Obi-Wan looked at the old freighter and could not suppress a shudder. If not for Cenchrea Teresh, he'd be on that ship now. She'd given him a second chance. He felt a surge of gratitude, and gave his full attention to his new master, who was looking at him affectionately.

He liked her.

"What happened, Master?"

"Well, I was in this little cantina in Mos Eisley..." 

"Padawan?"

"In here, Master."

Qui-Gon pushed open the bedroom door.

Bruck sat upon his bed with a towel about his hips, one knee drawn up, inspecting his toes. He smiled at Qui-Gon.

"I think I've grown out of my boots again, Master."

Qui-Gon returned the smile. "Get dressed. We have a new mission." He waved a datapad.

"Where are we going?"

"I haven't looked at the information yet, Bruck. I'll wait for you. But

it's part of our search rotation."

Bruck hid his irritation. Pawing through cradles searching for Force-adept babies was not his idea of a mission. He'd been unspeakably bored every time he'd done it. Qui-Gon, however, seemed to enjoy it. Therefore Bruck would never let Qui-Gon know that he found it the most tedious of assignments.

"Would you like some tea?"

"I've already made some, Master. It's still hot."

"Thank you, Padawan. I'll be waiting." He shut the door carefully and leaned against it for a moment, his eyes shut.

Bruck sauntered into the common room dressed in a loose tunic, trousers, and sandals. He flung himself on the couch next to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon smiled at him and handed him a datapad. Bruck took it from him, allowing his fingers to brush Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon turned to study his datapad, and Bruck, blushing, read his own.

Presently he looked up. Qui-Gon was staring at nothing, his hands gripping the datapad.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon didn't reply.

"Master?"

"Xanatos." Qui-Gon's voice was a bare whisper.

Bruck was silent. He knew about Xanatos; it had taken Qui-Gon three years

to tell him about his former apprentice, but Bruck had known already. Had, in fact, met Xanatos on one occasion, during a visit home.

"And my father, Master. He-"

Qui-Gon glanced at him. "Yes. Your father is still the treasurer of Telos, is he not?"

"He is, Master. And one of Xanatos' dearest friends." Why did he say that? Did he want to cause Qui-Gon more pain? He knew that Xanatos' betrayal still burned deep within Qui-Gon's heart.

That was something to meditate upon...later, perhaps.

Qui-Gon sighed. "I have not seen Xanatos since the death of his father."

"I am sure that he harbors no ill will toward you, Master," Bruck said quickly.

"Really?" asked Qui-Gon. "What makes you say that?"

"Well...it's...if he had wanted to seek revenge against you, wouldn't he have done so already? It has been many years now."

"It has," Qui-Gon admitted. He shook his head. "I don't think we'll have much interaction with him anyway, Padawan. Our mission has little to do with Telosian administration. Probably a formal dinner or a reception...perhaps we can even schedule a visit with your father."

"That would be wonderful, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled at him briefly. "Sometimes I forget how young you still are, Padawan."

"I'm eighteen now, Master. Do you still see me as a child?" Bruck's pale blue eyes were fastened upon Qui-Gon.

"No," murmured Qui-Gon. "Not for years now."

Bruck bit his lip and widened his eyes. Qui-Gon looked at him, then frowned slightly. He turned back to his datapad.

"We will be joined by a creche master, Kir-Sal Freyn, and another knight

and apprentice...Cenchrea Teresh and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Oafy-Wan," Bruck muttered.

"Pardon me?"

"Oh...some of the intitiates used to call him that...you know how kind children can be."

Qui-Gon stared at him thoughtfully. "You'd better get some new boots from stores, Bruck. We leave tomorrow morning. And I think we should try to meet with Knight Teresh and Padawan Kenobi tonight. I'm sure you'll want to renew your acquaintance with Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master." Bruck heaved himself off the couch.

"Take your comlink. I'll most probably want to meet you in the dining

halls, depending on Teresh's schedule."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as Bruck left their quarters.

I can't give you what you want, Padawan. Please stop before I humiliate us both.

He looked at the datapad again.

Xanatos.

Qui-Gon sat lost in memories long since banished.

The past had returned. 

Cenchrea tossed a datapad at Obi-Wan. He caught it neatly.

"Don't get comfortable. We ship out tomorrow morning." She sat on Obi-Wan's bed.

Obi-Wan groaned. "But we just got back!"

"Don't whine, Obi-Wan. I can't bear it. You'll have time to relax on the way to..." She studied her own datapad.

"Telos," Obi-Wan finished, scanning the information rapidly. "Oh, it's the search rotation."

"The cradle search!" grinned Cenchrea. "Well, that's hardly a mission, is it, Padawan?"

"Easy enough," retorted Obi-Wan. "Except that babies always seem to vomit

on me and not you. Do you give them Force-suggestions, or is it my face that frightens them into throwing up?"

"It must be your face. I would never do that to my dear Padawan."

"I'll bet you wouldn't," grumbled Obi-Wan.

"We have companions on this mission," Cenchrea said. "A creche master, naturally...also Qui-Gon Jinn and Bruck Chun."

Obi-Wan scowled. "Bruck used to call me Oafy-Wan."

"Goodness," murmured Cenchrea. She arched an eyebrow. "Do you think he'll call you Oafy-Wan for the duration of the mission?"

"If he's anything like he used to be, I wouldn't be at all surprised."

"Then it will be a test of endurance, Padawan. Now let me see...Telos. I haven't been there since I was a Padawan myself," she said, reading the datapad. "It's probably...Oh, Force!"

"What is it?"

Cenchrea looked at him bleakly. "Xanatos."

"Who's Xanatos?"

"Xanatos is the governor of Telos...and Qui-Gon Jinn's former apprentice.

I should have remembered."

"The apprentice he defeated in battle?"

Cenchrea nodded. "This may complicate matters. I wonder why the Council, knowing their history,
would send Qui-Gon to face Xanatos."

"Ours is not to ask," quoted Obi-Wan.

"Thank you, Padawan," Cenchrea said dryly.

"What happened between them?" Obi-Wan asked, curiously. It had been years since he'd thought of Qui-Gon.

"I'll tell you what I know, which isn't the entire story. Only Qui-Gon and Xanatos know the whole truth."

"Xanatos was a padawan at the same time that I was," she said. "I was

three years younger than he was, and I was in awe of him. He had such skill, such dexterity, such intelligence...he was a dedicated pupil, and he adored Qui-Gon." She frowned. "But there was a side to him that Qui-Gon did not see. That none of us saw, save for occasional glimpses..."

Obi-Wan listened, fascinated, as Cenchrea related the details of Xanatos' fall. His father, Crion, tempting him with wealth and power. Xanatos' plotting, scheming, pulling strings until Telos was plunged into civil war because of a greedy man's legacy. The deaths of thousands upon thousands of innocents. The confrontation at the governor's palace, and the death of Crion.

"No one knows what happened between Qui-Gon and Xanatos after Qui-Gon

killed Crion," said Cenchrea. "I only know that somehow, Xanatos escaped. He stole the treasury and disappeared, only to re-emerge years later as a hero to the Telosians. He restored the treasury and pulled the Telosians out of poverty."

"How?"

"Some say he is a silent partner in different galactic corporations. I've heard that he is involved in a mining outfit...Offworld, I think it's called. Who knows?"

"And now Qui-Gon will meet him again."

"Possibly. And if he does, so will we."

"What's he like?"

"Xanatos? He's charming, handsome, ferociously intelligent...you'll see, if we meet him."

"This should be a very interesting mission," said Obi-Wan.

Cenchrea shook her head. "I don't know, Obi-Wan...I hope it's strictly routine."

Obi-Wan rose from his bed. "Should I even bother to unpack?"

"You should if your clothes haven't been laundered. I'm not sharing a cabin with an apprentice who smells like a tauntaun." She stood up. They were of the same height now and stood eye to eye.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master?"

"Will you...do you think that you will be entirely comfortable on this mission?"

"Of course, Master. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I was thinking of Qui-Gon. I know that it wasn't easy to have him reject you. And to choose someone else shortly afterward. I know it was years ago, but old scars run deep sometimes." She watched his face carefully.

"Master, I haven't even thought of him in years," he said, truthfully. "Anyway, if he'd chosen me, then I never would have met you."

"Padawan...have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?"

"It is not luck," he said softly. "It is the will of the Force."

She embraced him tightly. "You make me proud, Obi-Wan Kenobi." 

The east dining hall hummed with activity. Qui-Gon and Bruck sat alone at a table. Bruck checked his chrono surreptitiously.

"They're late."

Qui-Gon sipped his soup. "Patience, Padawan. We were a bit early."

Bruck stabbed at the tender green leaves on his plate. "Why is the Council sending four Jedi instead of two on the search, Master?"

"Five Jedi, Bruck. You forget the creche master."

"Oh, yes," Bruck said dismissively. "Why five, Master?"

"I think that the Council wishes the balance of another Knight's opinion. I happen to agree with them. There's little enough room for error, and-" he stopped as a woman and young man approached their table, carrying trays of food.

"You're the worst apprentice I've ever had," the woman was saying.

Qui-Gon's face showed no expression, but inwardly he flinched. What sort of master would chastise an apprentice so? And in public, no less...

"I'm the only apprentice you've ever had," said the young man. He seemed unperturbed.

"Thank the Force," said the woman, and Qui-Gon saw that they were both smiling. He stood, recognizing them now.

"Knight Teresh?"

"Master Jinn!" Knight Teresh beamed at him. She leaned forward to take his hand. "A pleasure to see you again. It's been too long. May I present my apprentice, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan bowed deeply. "Greetings, Master Jinn."

"Greetings, Padawan Kenobi. I've not seen you since you were a boy."

"No, Master." He'd straightened, and he was smiling at Qui-Gon. There was

a pleasant openness about his face. It was a face to which smiles seemed to come easily.

Qui-Gon gestured at Bruck, who had risen. "Knight Teresh, I don't believe you've met my padawan, Bruck Chun."

Bruck bowed. "I wish you a good evening, Master Teresh."

Cenchrea lifted a brow and smiled at Qui-Gon. "Ah, he uses the formal address, Master Jinn." She turned to Bruck. "Elegantly done, Padawan. You must remember Obi-Wan from your initiate days."

Bruck nodded at Obi-Wan. "Of course. It's great to see you again, Obi-Wan."

"Hello, Bruck." Obi-Wan returned the nod in a friendly fashion.

"Please sit," said Qui-Gon.

"I apologize for our lateness," Cenchrea said. "Padawan Kenobi was dyeing a tunic black on the theory that it makes him more imposing, and the dye stained some of my clothing...and the 'fresher walls...and the floors."

"I didn't mean to spill it," said Obi-Wan. "It was an accident."

Bruck smirked.

"We had to clean it up before it stained everything," explained Cenchrea.

"We'd only just arrived ourselves," Qui-Gon reassured them. "I'm glad you were able to meet with us."

"I'm glad, too. This mission, Master Jinn-"

"Qui-Gon," he interrupted, gently.

"Very well. This mission, Qui-Gon, quite frankly has me concerned."

"Xanatos." It was not a question.

"Just so. I wonder if you shouldn't request reassignment from the Council."

"We must trust the Council's wisdom," said Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon, it's not you I'm concerned about. If Xanatos still bears a grudge against you, then, true, your life may be endangered. I know you can take care of yourself. But what of the life of your apprentice, and the lives of the babies we are sworn to protect? There may be great risk there."

"You are direct, Knight Teresh."

"It's Cenchrea. And yes, I am. Life's too short for evasion."

"Cenchrea, it has been many years since Xanatos and I parted ways. And as my apprentice astutely pointed out to me earlier, if Xanatos has hungered for vengeance, he surely would have made some sort of move against me already." If only I could believe that, he thought.

Cenchrea regarded him shrewdly. "And your padawan? And the babies?"

"Even Xanatos would not endanger the lives of infants." I hope, he thought bleakly. "And Bruck's father is the treasurer of Telos. Xanatos would be ill-advised to harm him."

"Vox Chun is your father?" asked Cenchrea. "I had no idea."

"Yes, he is, Master," replied Bruck with just the slightest touch of pride. "And he is very close to Xanatos. If my father had detected any wrongdoing on Xanatos' part, he certainly would not let it pass."

"I see," said Cenchrea. "Well, it appears that my fears are groundless."

"I agree that we must be cautious. As we are on all missions," said Qui-Gon. "Seeking out the Force-adept infants and protecting them are our primary objectives."

"When was your last rotation, Qui-Gon?" Cenchrea asked.

"Bruck and I went to Aelran a year ago. I believe that was our last...is that not so, Padawan?" Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled agreeably.

"Yes, Master."

"Do you enjoy the search, Bruck?" asked Cenchrea.

"Oh, very much, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled.

A high shriek split the air. "OBI-WAN!"

Obi-Wan turned in his chair as a tiny girl launched herself at him, flinging chubby arms around his neck.

"Linia!" He scooped the little girl up and plopped her on his lap. He laughed as the girl covered his face with kisses. "How are you, my little fighter?"

"I'm fine, Obi-Wan. I missed you."

"And I missed you. Can you say hello to Master Teresh, and Master Jinn and Padawan Chun?"

The little girl smiled at them. "Hello. Hello, Master T'resh."

"Hello, Linia," said Cenchrea, wrinkling her nose at the child. Linia giggled and smiled shyly at Qui-Gon, who smiled back at her.

Linia turned back to Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan...I lied."

"You did? About what?"

"I'm not fine."

"Why don't you tell me what the problem is, and we'll see if we can't do something about it."

"It's Serrai. She keeps pulling my hair and calling me names." Her lower lip began to tremble, and she pulled on Obi-Wan's braid for reassurance.

Obi-Wan smiled gently at her. "Well, Linia, sometimes our enemies turn out to be our friends. Take Bruck here," he said. "Bruck and I used to be rivals...but now, we are going on a mission together. We are allies. Perhaps Serrai will become your ally as well. These things can take time, my fighter. You must have patience. Isn't that so, Bruck?"

"Of course, Obi-Wan."

"You see? Bruck agrees with me. In time, I'm sure that Serrai will come around. You must not be angry with her, Linia. That will do you no good."

Linia nodded, her eyes huge and round. "When I am a padawan, I want you to be my master."

Obi-Wan laughed. "I may not even be a knight by the time you are ready to be a padawan, Linia. But if I am, I promise to be your master."

A harried-looking creche master ran up. "Linia! I've been all over the dining halls looking for you!"

"It's all right," said Obi-Wan. "Linia and I haven't seen each other for some time. We were just renewing our acquaintance."

"Come on, child," said the creche master. "Leave this poor young man alone."

"Go on, Linia. I have to leave in the morning, but I'll come and see you before lights-out tonight."

The creche master was pulling Linia along already. "Promise?"

"I promise." He blew her a kiss and turned back to his companions. He suddenly became aware that Qui-Gon was smiling at him. Color rose in his cheeks.

"I met Linia about a year ago," he muttered.

"Obi-Wan rescued her from Togorian pirates," said Cenchrea. "She would have been sold into slavery. She's completely devoted to him."

"You have a very natural way with children, Obi-Wan. That will be an asset on our mission." Qui-Gon's voice was warm.

"Thank you, Master Jinn." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruck staring at him. He turned to Bruck. "I hope we'll have an opportunity to spend some time together on the journey to Telos, Bruck."

"Oh, I'm sure we will." Oafy-Wan, Bruck mentally added.

Cenchrea pulled out her datapad and consulted it. "We leave on the SOLITARY at oh eight hundred. Our cabins are next to each other. That's convenient. It will take about six days to reach Telos."

"Is the SOLITARY a Telosian ship?" asked Qui-Gon.

"It's a Corellian corvette."

"Good."

"Do I detect a hint of concern?"

"No," said Qui-Gon shortly. "We are being quartered in the Governor's complex, are we not?"

"Yes," said Cenchrea. "Still, most of our time will be spent on search."

They finished their meal and rose to leave for their respective quarters. Qui-Gon and Cenchrea walked ahead.

"You aren't being completely open about Xanatos. I can feel your doubt, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon sighed. "If I have doubts, Cenchrea, they involve my own failures."

"Not all Jedi apprentices become knights, Qui-Gon," she said, putting a gentle hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "And Xanatos is the past. You cannot change what is past. You have another apprentice now."

Qui-Gon looked at Bruck, who was talking with Obi-Wan. "Yes. You seem to have done quite well with your own apprentice," he said.

"I consider myself lucky. Obi-Wan is a joy to teach, and has been from the very first day."

"The day I rejected him," Qui-Gon murmured.

Cenchrea frowned, and pulled him into a hallway. She pitched her voice low. "What is the matter with you, Qui-Gon Jinn? Why do you dwell upon what was, instead of what is and what will be? If you allow yourself to be consumed by the past, you do yourself and Bruck little good."

Qui-Gon shook free of her. His face was white. "I will keep my own counsel on the focus that I need...if you don't mind." He bowed stiffly and walked out of the hallway.

"Come, Padawan." Qui-Gon gestured to Bruck, who trotted after him obediently. Qui-Gon nodded to Obi-Wan as they swept past him. "We'll see you in the morning, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stared after them, bemused. He went into the hallway and saw Cenchrea kneeling on the floor, her eyes tightly closed. "Master...what are you doing?"

"Meditating." The word was spoken from between clenched teeth.

Amused, Obi-Wan crouched next to her. "Is it working?"

"No."

"Then walk with me to the initiates' quarters. I promised to say goodnight to Linia."

Cenchrea rose reluctantly and walked through the halls with Obi-Wan.

"Did Master Jinn say something to make you angry?"

"Tell me what you felt as we ate, Padawan."

Obi-Wan thought. "The strongest feelings I got were from Bruck. He still doesn't like me."

"He thought he concealed his feelings well, though, didn't he? What else?"

"There is tension between Bruck and Master Jinn."

"What do you think the source of that tension is, Obi-Wan?"

"I don't know. Perhaps, because Bruck's father is close to Xanatos."

"Perhaps. What did you think of Qui-Gon?"

"He hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him," said Obi-Wan. "I don't think he's very happy."

"Happiness is a relative state, Padawan."

"Well, I don't see how he can be happy with an apprentice like Bruck," said Obi-Wan. "He's such a kret."

"Tsk. Language, my apprentice."

"Sorry, Master. It's true. Of course, Bruck probably isn't happy with a master like Qui-Gon, if he's so-"

Cenchrea stopped and held up a hand. "Obi-Wan, I should not have asked you that. It's not for you or me to question the relationship between another master-padawan pair. Qui-Gon is a great Jedi. He has his faults...but so do we all. There are those who say that I haven't taught you the proper respect that a padawan should have for a master."

"You know that's not true."

"I know it, and you know it, but does everyone know it? Points of view, Padawan, points of view. Never forget that you can only see through your own eyes, not those of another."

"Yes, Master."

"I think that we should both meditate tonight, Obi-Wan. I think we both need it." She smiled, and gave his backside a playful swat. "Now go say goodnight to Linia. It's almost lights-out, and she'll be apoplectic if you don't get in there." 

Qui-Gon shrugged off his robe as he entered their quarters. "Have you packed, Bruck?"

"No, Master. I need to do that right away."

Qui-Gon nodded absently. "So do I. And I think I'll retire early, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Good night, Master."

"Good night, Padawan." Qui-Gon went into his bedroom, stripped and fell into bed. The hells with packing, he'd do it after sunrise meditation.

He fell into a heavy sleep, plagued by troubling dreams.

Bruck undressed and stood in front of the mirror.

What's wrong with me? Why doesn't he want me?

He turned, examining his naked body in the mirror. It was honed to physical perfection...nothing short of beautiful.

I do everything that you want, he thought, bitterly. Everything. And still...

Bruck carefully built shields around himself.

He lay on his bed, envisioning Qui-Gon, his hair loose, his long muscles pinning Bruck to his bed, turning him over, caressing, sucking, biting...loving him, taking him, and Bruck caressed himself and groaned silently.

Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon...

Bruck came, the semen a bitter explosion on his belly. He turned his face to the pillow and wept. 

Cenchrea and Obi-Wan boarded the SOLITARY and found their room.

"Small cabins," commented Obi-Wan.

"I get the bottom bunk, Padawan. Master's privilege."

Obi-Wan snorted. "You've been telling me that since our first mission. When have I ever contested you?"

"One day you'll have an apprentice to order about, Obi-Wan, and you'll realize how exceedingly pleasurable it is."

"Yes, I'm sure."

Cenchrea surveyed their tiny cabin dubiously. "I don't think we'll be spending much time in here, Obi-Wan. I'm feeling claustrophobic already. Let's see if Qui-Gon and Bruck have arrived yet."

Obi-Wan followed her out of their cabin. Cenchrea knocked on the door opposite their room.

The door slid open. Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, his large frame overwhelming the small space.

"Hello," Cenchrea said, amiably. "You made it, I see."

"Good morning, Cenchrea. Padawan Chun and I were just about to decide on our sleeping arrangements." He showed her an old Ibernon coin.

"We toss for the bottom bunk," explained Bruck, coming forward and smiling. His face was drawn, and there were faint blue circles under his eyes.

Obi-Wan smiled at the image of Qui-Gon's feet and ankles dangling from the top bunk. "A coin toss," he said. "How egalitarian." He looked meaningfully at Cenchrea, who pointedly ignored him.

"Do you know if Master Freyn has arrived?" asked Cenchrea.

"I haven't seen him," replied Qui-Gon.

Cenchrea nodded. "Qui-Gon...a word, if you please?"

Qui-Gon stepped into the corridor. He smiled at Obi-Wan and touched him briefly on the shoulder.

Obi-Wan returned the smile and moved closer to Bruck.

"So you really toss a coin?" he asked, darting another look at Cenchrea.

Cenchrea winked at him and led Qui-Gon down the corridor.

Once they were out of the apprentices' hearing, Cenchrea turned to Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon, I wish to apologize for any distress I may have caused you yesterday," she said. "It was never my intention to tell you how to think or feel. I am sorry."

Qui-Gon put a hand on Cenchrea's shoulder. "No, Cenchrea, it is I who should apologize. You spoke out of concern for me, and I brushed you aside." He sighed deeply. "And you are right. I am concerned about Xanatos, and I don't know why the Council has assigned me to Telos."

"Did you request withdrawal from the mission?" asked Cenchrea.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I've been far too combatative with the Council in the past. In any case, should I run from a possible confrontation?"

"This is not a matter of personal pride, Qui-Gon," Cenchrea said, chiding him gently.

"You're right," said Qui-Gon. "Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive. Qui-Gon...if you feel Xanatos is still a threat to you,
then he bears watching."

Qui-Gon was silent a long while.

"Qui-Gon?"

"Yes," he said finally. "He bears watching."

Obi-Wan was sitting in the cabin's single wobbly chair. He smiled up at Bruck.

"Maybe we can go over some katas later on today, Bruck," he said. "I hear that the exercise room is a bit larger than the cabins."

Bruck stared at him, his ice-blue eyes flat and narrowed. "Fine."

"We don't have to."

"I said it was fine," Bruck snapped. He turned to the bunk and began pulling clothes from a bag.

Obi-Wan stood and put a hesitant hand on Bruck's arm. "Bruck, are you-"

Bruck shook him off roughly. "Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry..."

"Just get out," Bruck snarled.

Obi-Wan stepped back and glided noiselessly out of the room.

Bruck shut the door and slumped to the floor.

I can't take this anymore, he thought. I can't.

Obi-Wan frowned as the door slid shut.

Well, he'd made an attempt to be friendly. Clearly Bruck wasn't interested in pursuing a friendship.

Fine with me, Obi-Wan thought, irritated. He turned and saw a short man in Jedi robes hurrying toward him.

"Are you Bruck Chun?" asked the man.

"No, sir. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight Teresh's padawan."

The man clapped him on the shoulder. He had a youthful face and bright green eyes. "Hello, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am Kir-Sal Freyn."

Obi-Wan bowed. "Good morning, Master."

"Where's the rest of our party?"

"Master Jinn and Knight Teresh should be back shortly," said Obi-Wan. "Padawan Chun is in his room."

"Ah." Master Freyn consulted his datapad. "I see my room is...oh, it's here. Good." He pressed the button to the door. The door slid open, and Freyn peered inside. "Small, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan smiled.

Just then Qui-Gon and Cenchrea came down the hall together.

"Master Jinn? Knight Teresh?"

"Master Freyn...we were wondering where you were," said Qui-Gon.

"I'm sorry that I was unable to meet with you last night," said Master Freyn. "Have you time now?"

Qui-Gon looked at Cenchrea, who inclined her head. "We are at your disposal."

"It won't take long," said Freyn. "Your apprentices need not join us."

Cenchrea shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be able to occupy yourself, Obi-Wan."

"Master, I thought I'd practice katas," Obi-Wan replied.

"That's fine, Obi-Wan. Perhaps Bruck would like to join you," said Cenchrea.

/Oh, Master, please.../

/Padawan!/ Cenchrea's mental reply was sharp.

"Yes, Master." He tapped softly on Bruck's door.

The door slid open, and Bruck stood there, his eyes red.

"You look ill, Padawan," said Qui-Gon, moving toward Bruck and tilting his chin up with his fingers. "Obi-Wan was going to ask you to join him in kata practice. However, I think that you'd better stay here and rest."

"All right." Bruck turned and lay on the bottom bunk.

Qui-Gon frowned. He turned to Cenchrea and Freyn.

"I'll join you momentarily," he said.

"We'll go to the observation deck on this level," said Cenchrea. She and Freyn walked away.

Obi-Wan stood alone in the hall. Qui-Gon let his eyes rest on him.

Obi-Wan was staring at him fixedly, and Qui-Gon realized that the eager boy who struggled with his anger had become a young man. A young man to whom serenity seemed perfectly natural, as though there had never been any struggle at all. No doubt due to Cenchrea's influence, Qui-Gon mused. She'd done very well with her first padawan. I doubt I could have done so well.

"Perhaps Bruck will be able to join you later, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan seemed to realize that he was staring. He gave a short bow. "Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan's voice was pleasant, with soft, rounded tones. His would be a soothing voice to mediate any dispute.

Qui-Gon watched the boy as he walked down the corridor.

Obi-Wan looked once over his shoulder, saw Qui-Gon still looking, and turned away quickly, his face flushing.

Qui-Gon smiled and went back into his cabin. Bruck lay on the bottom bunk, one arm flung over his eyes, blocking the light. Qui-Gon pressed the door button, and the door hissed closed. Qui-Gon knelt beside the bunk.

"Padawan."

Bruck took his arm away and stared at Qui-Gon with naked longing in his blue eyes. "Master," he whispered.

Qui-Gon lay a hand on Bruck's arm. Bruck grabbed Qui-Gon's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it fiercely. Qui-Gon gently tried to extricate his hand, but Bruck would not release him.

"Bruck, please-"

"Master...I love you. I've loved you for years. I can't stand it anymore, I
had to tell you, I had to-" His voice rose wildly, and he calmed himself with an effort. "I know you don't love me. But I don't need that, I don't..." Bruck spoke as though he were trying to reassure himself.

"Master...don't you, at least, want me?" Pain and need roughened Bruck's voice.

Qui-Gon's heart ached unbearably. This was the second Padawan who'd asked him that same question. Tell him, Qui-Gon, he thought to himself. Tell him that he doesn't have your heart...at least Xanatos had that. Tell him the truth. Tell him that you don't want him and the walls around your heart are impenetrable.

With his free hand Qui-Gon stroked Bruck's hair. Buck leaned desperately into the touch.

"Bruck...I do love you. But it is the love...the bond between master and apprentice."

"It's me, isn't it? Am I ugly?"

"No, my padawan. You are beautiful. And you are intelligent, and a skillful warrior."

"But you still don't want me."

"Bruck...you know the Code forbids it."

Bruck sat up suddenly and flung Qui-Gon's hand away. His eyes were icy slits. "You're lying."

"What?"

"It's Xanatos, isn't it."

"What are you-"

"I felt it, Master. I heard his name through the Force. You were thinking of him. You can't forget him, or his betrayal. Did you love him? Did you care about the Code then? Is that why we're going to Telos?" Bruck's voice was sneering, hateful.

Qui-Gon stood. "You're speaking from anger, Bruck. Be careful." His voice was soft.

Bruck stood and glared at Qui-Gon. His face was pinched and starkly white. He stood a few inches shorter than Qui-Gon, and had to raise his chin to look the Jedi full in the face.

"I would have done anything for you, Qui-Gon. I would have died for you, if that was what you wanted. I asked for so little from you. But you shut me out, and here we are. Perhaps you shut Xanatos out as well. Perhaps that's why he turned...because you're cold and cruel. You care nothing for anyone but yourself. Maybe you wanted him to turn." Bruck's words were spat out, heedless of their effect. "Maybe you want me to turn."

Qui-Gon seized Bruck by the shoulders. "Take care, Bruck. Think before you speak."

Bruck threw Qui-Gon's hands off and glared at him. All at once he lunged forward and embraced Qui-Gon. His fingers tangled in Qui-Gon's hair,

pulling Qui-Gon inexorably closer. He kissed Qui-Gon, his tongue forcing its way into Qui-Gon's mouth, hungry, needful, harsh.

Stunned, Qui-Gon accepted the kiss, transported unwillingly to another time, another place.

"Master...Master." It was breathed like a mantra, long, white hands pulling at his clothing.

"Xanatos...Padawan...stop this..."

"You want me." Xanatos' voice was soft, seductive.

"We can't."

"Don't you love me?"

"I do love you...but-"

"Then just accept it, Master. Don't let the Code stop you. No one will know."

Xanatos' lips upon his, sweet and lush and voluptuous, the black, silken end of the braid brushing his skin, a light, feathery sensation. Exquisite.

Pleasure... 

Qui-Gon reached around and pulled Bruck's hands away, holding them down. He moved away from the young man who was squirming now, frantic in his need.

Bruck was panting, his face flushed.

"Stop this, Bruck. Immediately. Do you hear me?"

Bruck's face was desperate and unhappy. He caught his breath and stared at Qui-Gon, his expression becoming mutinous.

"Why?" The word was torn from Bruck's lips.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Don't."

Qui-Gon turned and left the room. The door silently slid shut.

Bruck sat on the bunk and stared at the door for a very long time. 

Qui-Gon, Cenchrea, and Kir-Sal Freyn stood at the far end of the observatory, talking quietly.

"There are reports of four Force-sensitive babies on Telos," said Freyn. "Along with whomever else we find, of course."

"Chances are that we won't emerge with more than four or five babies anyway," said Cenchrea, and Qui-Gon nodded in agreement.

"I have had good news, though," said Freyn. "Xanatos, the Governor of Telos, has arranged for the parents to bring their children to us."

Qui-Gon felt, rather than saw, Cenchrea's nearly imperceptible reaction.

"It will save us an enormous amount of time and trouble," said Freyn, excitedly. "I thought that it was a remarkably gracious gesture on the part of the Governor. If only all systems were as sympathetic to the Jedi."

"This is not compulsory for the parents, I hope," said Cenchrea.

"Oh, no. Voluntary, as always."

"If we remain in one place, there is the possibility that we will miss a child," Cenchrea said firmly. "It is a cordial gesture on the part of the Governor, but I believe that we should proceed as we always have."

"What is your opinion, Master Jinn?" asked Freyn.

"I agree with Knight Teresh," replied Qui-Gon.

"Very well," said Freyn. "Xanatos may not be pleased."

"Xanatos will have to trust the wisdom of our judgment," Cenchrea said.

Freyn looked at her for a moment, and turned back to Qui-Gon. "Tell me, Master Jinn, is it true that the Governor was once your padawan learner?"

"Yes, it is," said Qui-Gon.

Freyn seemed to wait for Qui-Gon to say something more. When no further comment was forthcoming, he nodded and clapped his hands together briskly. "Well," he said, "I have work to do. If you'll both excuse me..."

Cenchrea and Qui-Gon inclined their heads.

Freyn looked at Qui-Gon. "Master Jinn, I think you should know that I requested this mission when I learned that you had been assigned to Telos. I am honored to work with a Jedi of your renown."

"I do my duty when called upon, Kir-Sal Freyn," said Qui-Gon, mildly. "But I thank you."

Freyn bowed and glided out of the room.

Cenchrea smiled at Qui-Gon, a bit cynically. The corners of Qui-Gon's mouth turned up briefly, and he shrugged. They stood in silence in front of the huge plastisteel window, watching the vastness beyond.

Cenchrea turned to Qui-Gon. "Did you receive that information, Qui-Gon?"

"About the parents bringing the children to us, you mean? No, I did not."

"I would like to see the wording of that request," Cenchrea said.

"Why is that?"

"You know very well why. I think that Xanatos wants to keep you within his sight. I don't like it."

"Neither do I," said Qui-Gon. "But we have no proof of any wrongdoing."

"I know that," Cenchrea sighed. "Something tells me that this mission's going to be full of surprises. Just keep your eyes open, Qui-Gon." She pulled her robe about herself and walked away.

Obi-Wan stood blindfolded on a mat in the exercise room. Sweat trickled down his face and back. The ventilation in the exercise room was pitifully inadequate. The room itself smelled of a compound of sweat and cleansing agents that hadn't quite done their job.

Obi-Wan tugged off his belt and tunic and tossed them aside.Activating his saber blade,he grasped the hilt in both hands and centered himself. He dropped into the tsuru variant of the warrior-ready position.

"Begin."

The voice-activated drone hummed to life, tracing slow and complex patterns in the air. The tip of Obi-Wan's saber matched its movements perfectly.

The drone spat a series of green bolts at him. Obi-Wan deflected each bolt before it could touch him. In more than an hour of sparring, he had brought his blade into position in time to deflect the attacks, and had remained unscathed by the tingling bolts.

The sparring drone backed away, clicked, then fell silent. Its programming automatically shifted to a higher setting. The drone rose a few centimeters, then paused. Obi-Wan cocked his head slightly, then shifted his feet.

The drone executed a complex series of interlocking zig-zags, then -- with a speed that would have been impossible for any realistic, ground-bound opponent -- looped around behind the boy, homed in on a corkscrew trajectory, and twisted down sharply toward his legs.

Obi-Wan spun on one heel, rolled his sholders, and -- by twisting his arms in a way that human arms were not quite meant to twist -- whirled his blade to make direct and emphatic contact with the drone. The little droid's protective field flared, and it screamed tinnily as it was batted through the air. It landed bouncing on the floor, turning itself off with a sullen cluck.

"Well done, Padawan."

Obi-Wan turned toward the voice, startled. He deactivated his saber, pulled off his blindfold, and saw Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. His heart beat a little more rapidly.

"Master Jinn," he said, "I didn't hear you come in." He wiped the sweat from his face with the blindfold.

"You must be aware of your surroundings at all times, Padawan," said Qui-Gon. "Concentration on the Living Force can help you in this regard."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Master Teresh tells me the same thing."

"Nevertheless, you fought with great skill," said Qui-Gon. "The drone clicked up to a higher setting and came in for a sneak attack, yet you parried it. And in a manner its programming never anticipated, apparently. You knocked it clear out of the practice circle. Very well done, indeed."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan picked up his tunic and slipped it back on. He turned to Qui-Gon. "Was there something you wanted, Master Jinn?"

"I was looking for Bruck," said Qui-Gon. "He wasn't in our room, and I thought that he might have joined you after all."

"No, Master. I haven't seen him." Obi-Wan's face was upturned and innocent, his blue-grey eyes alight.

Gods, he's lovely, isn't he? Qui-Gon thought to himself. The thought, completely unbidden, surprised him. He folded his arms within the sleeves of his robe.

"You would be eighteen now, Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled down at him. "I remember seeing you fight Bruck some time ago. Your style has changed dramatically."

"Master Teresh has been very patient with me," said Obi-Wan, smiling in return. "You should see her spar...she's incredible. I don't think I've won but a handful of duels with her."

"I have heard of her skill with a lightsaber," said Qui-Gon, quietly amused at Obi-Wan's boyish enthusiasm, and impressed by his generous praise.

"Not just sabers, Master," said Obi-Wan. "Few can best her in weaponless combat either. Now she's teaching me what she calls freeform Corellian combat."

"I've never heard of it."

"Master, it's really just streetfighting. Master Teresh says that sometimes on an undercover mission, an overt display of Jedi skills can be dangerous."

Qui-Gon laughed. "She's right, Obi-Wan. Your master is very wise. Perhaps tomorrow you and she can demonstrate this style to me and my padawan." If I can find him, Qui-Gon thought, and his smile thinned out and disappeared.

"Is anything wrong, Master Jinn?"

Yes, thought Qui-Gon.

"Is it something that I can..." Obi-Wan broke off, openmouthed. He and Qui-Gon stared at each other, completely unnerved.

He heard me, thought Qui-Gon. How did he do that? He collected himself quickly and smiled at the boy. "I am fine, Obi-Wan. But thank you for your concern."

Obi-Wan nodded and retrieved his belt. He fastened it around his waist and clipped his saber to it. He bowed to Qui-Gon. "If I see Bruck, I'll tell him that you are looking for him."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan bowed again and left the room quickly.

Qui-Gon walked over to the deactivated sparring droid, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. Surprises, indeed, he thought.

He pulled off his robe and thumbed the droid's difficulty settings up three notches. He activated his lightsaber, and tossed the sparring drone into the air. "Begin," he said softly. The drone came alive with a hiss and dove in for the attack.

Cenchrea was sitting in a chair, her datapad propped in her lap, when Obi-Wan walked into the cabin.

"There you are, Padawan," she said. "I've just been going over our mission specifications again, and I---what's the matter?" She frowned and stood up, tossing the datapad on the bunk. "Sit down, Obi-Wan." She guided him to the chair and pressed him down gently. She knelt on the floor and took one of his hands in her own, inwardly wincing at its clamminess.

"Are you ill, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "No, Master."

"Are you injured?"

"No."

Cenchrea nodded and smoothed Obi-Wan's braid. "Not ill and not injured. That's good. But you're troubled. Would you like to tell me why?"

Obi-Wan looked at her now, and his normally lucent eyes were clouded. "Master...is it true that only a master and padawan can communicate mentally?"

Cenchrea sat back on her heels. "No, Padawan. Some individuals who are very strong in the Force can do it with relative ease. I once watched Master Windu and Master Yoda consume a meal in total silence. Afterwards, Master Windu stopped to speak to me and told me that he'd just been arguing with Yoda for an hour, and that he was exhausted." She laughed at the memory, and Obi-Wan managed a faint smile.

My stoic padawan, what is wrong? she thought. She continued. "And then there are lifebonded pairs, but that is generally a mental bond that requires a great deal of concentration. You remember Knight Eldryth and Knight Croy? They were together for two years before they succeeded in any sort of telepathy."

"Is that all?"

"For the most part, it is."

"Oh."

Cenchrea waited.

"Obi-Wan looked down at his hands and flexed them. When he spoke, his voice was soft and hesitant. "I was practicing, and Master Jinn came into the room. We were talking...and something happened."

"What happened?" she asked. Her voice was soothing.

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan confessed. "But it felt like I got hit with an electro-jabber. I sensed his thoughts, his emotions...and I know he felt the same thing. It wasn't like picking up on just anyone's thoughts; it was deeper, somehow. And it wasn't like the telepathy that you and I share. It was different."

"And you were afraid."

"Yes."

Cenchrea stood up. "What was Qui-Gon's reaction?"

"He was very composed, Master."

"As usual," Cenchrea commented.

"I'm sorry, Master."

Cenchrea looked at Obi-Wan, surprised. "Sorry? Sorry for what, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan looked confused and helpless. "For...for being afraid. For..." He trailed off, staring at the floor.

"Obi-Wan...you weren't going to apologize for sharing a connection to someone other than myself, were you?"

"I don't know," he said. His face told a different story.

"Obi-Wan...look at me. Look at me."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan met Cenchrea's eyes.

"You've never been burdened with excessive pride, Padawan, and so I can tell you this without fearing that it will affect you adversely. You will be a great Jedi someday. The best thing I ever did was to stop you from getting on that ship to go to that forsaken planet...what was it called?"

"Bandomeer," Obi-Wan said, smiling slightly.

"Bandomeer, exactly. I don't know if I can ever take another padawan again...look what they would have to measure up to -- your intelligence, your weapons sense, your connection to the Force."

"Not the Living Force," murmured Obi-Wan.

"Soon enough. Not everything is so easily achieved, even for you." She tugged affectionately on his braid, surprising a smile out of him. "You do have a powerful connection to the Force. And you have made a connection with another Jedi. Why would you feel the need to apologize for that?"

"I don't know."

"Obi-Wan, I could no more hamper your progress than I could stop the stars from shining."

"If you were never to take another padawan, Master, it would be a great loss to the Jedi," Obi-Wan said.

"Go to, Padawan." She grinned at him. "But let's discuss Master Jinn. Why do you suppose you felt that connection with him?"

Obi-Wan was silent. Cenchrea looked at the crimson flush spreading over his skin. Ah, there it is, she thought.

"He is terribly handsome, isn't he?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and the flush deepened.

"I fancied myself in love with him for years. All the senior padawan learners did..." she stopped and turned away.

"You did?" Obi-Wan's voice was curious.

"Oh, yes. I used to hang about the classes he taught, making a terrible nuisance of myself. Of course, so did everyone else. We were all horribly jealous of Xanatos, and he lorded his master over us constantly."

"So it is a common thing for a padawan to be in love with a master," he said, grinning cheekily.

"Mm. You were fifteen, weren't you? I still remember the trellin flowers you used to leave on my pillow every night."

"I didn't know that you were allergic to them," Obi-Wan said. "Anyway, you rejected me. Broke my heart."

Cenchrea snorted. "It didn't take long for your heart to mend. I caught you with Garen Muln a week after you stopped strewing pollen over my bed, remember?"

"Oh, that's right."

"And in my bedroom, no less."

"Your bed was bigger."

Cenchrea shook her head. "Back to Qui-Gon, Padawan. I confess that I have some reservations about him."

"You said that he was a great Jedi."

"He is," said Cenchrea. "And a good man, and undeniably attractive. But when you said that he was unhappy, you were more right than you know, I think. He has little joy in his life, and little serenity. You're not a child, and I won't lecture you on your choice of a sexual partner. And you're not Qui-Gon's padawan, so the Code is not an obstacle. But I would hate to see his unhappiness infect you, to see you lose that ebullience that brings me such peace and joy. Too, you can't be sure that he has similar feelings for you. It's only been a day since you've seen each other again."

"I'm not sure that he does have feelings for me, Master," Obi-Wan admitted. "He was so calm...but I know he felt that contact too. I know it. "

"You want the challenge, don't you, Padawan?"

"I do, Master. He is so compelling."

"Do you believe in love at first sight, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "Maybe."

Cenchrea laughed. "You are too much, Obi-Wan. Go and shower. You can't possibly think of attracting anyone smelling the way you do."

Qui-Gon pushed the door button. The door slid open, revealing Bruck, sitting in the cabin's chair and reading his datapad.

Bruck, seeing Qui-Gon, sprang up.

"Bruck," Qui-Gon said. "I've been looking for you."

The door slid shut again, and Bruck spoke, looking pained. "Master," he said, his voice a low whisper, "I wish to apologize for my behavior earlier. I had no right to speak to you so. If you wish, I will request another master, or...resign from the Order." He swallowed and looked at Qui-Gon, tears swmming in his eyes.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head, "I don't want you to request another master, and I certainly don't want you to resign from the Order."

"What I said was inexcusable," Bruck said.

"Your words came from your heart, Padawan. But you know the Code, and what would happen if we, as master and apprentice, were to--"

"Please, Master, don't," said Bruck. "I know my duty. I know the Code. I allowed my emotions to control me, and I am deeply sorry."

"The past is past," said Qui-Gon. "We will concentrate on the now, on our mission. When we return to Coruscant, we will take some time for rest and meditation. We will discuss the matter further, if that is your wish. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain, Bruck. You are very dear to me."

"Is there any chance that someday, when I am knighted, we..." He looked hopefully at Qui-Gon.

"Anything is possible, Padawan," said Qui-Gon.

Bruck nodded. "I shall be content with that, Master. Thank you."

Qui-Gon put a hand on Bruck's shoulder, noting how the young man leaned into
the touch. I have to stop that, he thought.

Bruck left the cabin.

Qui-Gon undressed and stepped into the 'fresher. He turned the water on and stood under the hot spray.

I can't make the same mistake twice, he thought. Is it pride or fear of failure that motivates me?

He scrubbed his body, thinking of his padawan. Bruck was similar to Xanatos in so many ways. Intelligent, deft with weapons, adept at nearly any technological application...and possessed of a restlessness and roiling emotions that refused to die, no matter how much he meditated, or how many litanies for serenity he performed.

Xanatos and Bruck. Images of the two mingled, past and present.

Not again. It can't be happening again.

He breathed and centered himself. Suddenly, like a ray of sunlight piercing a cloud, another image formed...a young man with blue-grey eyes and reddish-gold hair. A face that smiled easily.

He felt a stillness, a peace.

Obi-Wan Kenobi... 

A lone man stood at the edge of a field. He was tall and pale, with eyes the same color as the Telosian evening sky.

A soft wind swirled the edge of his cloak around his ankles. He gazed into the heavens, at the brilliance of the stars.

Somewhere there was a ship making its way toward him. Bringing his destiny.

The man touched his cheek and smiled. 

Qui-Gon, Cenchrea, Bruck, and Obi-Wan emerged from the exercise room, drenched in perspiration, and stepped into the turbolift.

"You'd think that they'd allow the passengers to control the temperature in there," Cenchrea complained.

"It was rather warm," said Qui-Gon.

"You have the gift of understatement."

Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled with good humor. "Thank you for the demonstration, Cenchrea, Obi-Wan. It was most illuminating."

"Our pleasure, wasn't it, Obi-Wan?"

"Oh...yes, Master."

/Obi-Wan./

/Yes, Master?/

/You're staring./

"What did you think of that particular fighting style, Bruck?" Cenchrea asked, pleasantly.

Bruck smiled. "It was certainly unlike any form of combat with which I'm familiar," he said.

Cenchrea laughed. "A diplomat, like your Master. How well you've taught him, Qui-Gon."

"He is an exemplary student," Qui-Gon said, smiling at Bruck. Bruck did not so much smile as glow back at him.

"I'm afraid that my lack of diplomatic skill has doomed Obi-Wan to a life of action," Cenchrea said.

"Warriors are as sorely needed as diplomats...alas, sometimes more so than diplomats," remarked Qui-Gon. "However, I have heard that you were instrumental in resolving a civil war on Muni Prime recently."

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice. The rebels were going to cut Obi-Wan's head off. He's no good to me headless."

The turbolift doors opened, and they stepped out.

"Where's Kir-Sal Freyn?" Cenchrea asked. "I've barely seen him since we left Coruscant."

"He told me that he was assigned to a funding subcommittee, and that he's loaded with work," said Qui-Gon.

"Ugh. Better him than me," Cenchrea said, a bit uncharitably.

"Is anyone hungry?" asked Qui-Gon. "I need to shower, but I thought we all might eat together."

"I've eaten, Master. I need to study for a physics exam," said Bruck.

"I'd forgotten about that, Padawan. I'll drill you later."

"Thank you, Master."

"Cenchrea? Obi-Wan?"

"Oh, thank you, Qui-Gon, but I thought I'd spend some time reviewing the mission before I eat," said Cenchrea, biting back a smile.

"Very well. Obi-Wan, would you care to accompany me to dinner?" Qui-Gon smiled at Obi-Wan.

"Certainly, Master."

They reached their cabins, and Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "I'll meet you in the main dining hall in about thirty minutes, Padawan." He derived an odd pleasure from using the title. It seemed different when applied to Obi-Wan, somehow.

"Yes, Master."

As the door hissed shut behind Obi-Wan and Cenchrea, Obi-Wan turned to his master and gripped her arm. "Thank you, Master."

Cenchrea sighed. "You owe me for this, my apprentice. I'm starving."

Obi-Wan looked mischievous. "Why don't you go to the kitchens, and persuade them to feed you there?"

Pointing to the 'fresher, Cenchrea said, "Clean up before I change my mind and interrupt your little rendezvous...'Padawan'."

Laughing, Obi-Wan began to unfasten his boots. 

Without seeming to do so, Qui-Gon scanned the crowded dining hall and was both surprised and amused to feel a small twinge of disappointment. Of course, he was early, so there was no reason for disappointment...

"Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon turned. Obi-Wan stood there, looking a trifle breathless. His hair was wet, his braid newly plaited.

"Hello, Obi-Wan."

"I almost didn't recognize you, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled. "The hair?" He'd braided his hair tightly into a single plait that hung down his back.

"That, and the clothes, I think. I don't think I've ever...that is, I haven't really seen you much at all." Force, I sound like an idiot, thought Obi-Wan.

"Nor I you. Is that the infamous black tunic that caused Cenchrea so much grief?"

"What? Oh...oh, yes." Obi-Wan felt his face grow hot.

"It's very becoming. Let's get our food and a table."

Obi-Wan had some trouble making his feet move as the tall Jedi strode away.

Finding a vacant table, they began to eat.

"What was your last mission, Obi-Wan?" inquired Qui-Gon, stripping a pink saipache fruit of its skin.

"It was the Muni Prime mission, Master," said Obi-Wan. "We'd only just returned the day before we departed for Telos."

"Head intact," Qui-Gon commented dryly.

Obi-Wan laughed. "Yes, Master. Head intact."

"Cenchrea underestimates her own skills as a diplomat."

"Had she not intervened and rescued me, I would be dead now," Obi-Wan said, seriously.

"She is a fine master."

"She is," Obi-Wan agreed.

"Obi-Wan, I am glad that we have this opportunity to speak alone."

Obi-Wan looked up. "You are?"

"Yes. You see, I haven't forgotten my rejection of you five years ago."

"Master?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I was wrong to do that to you...to so many hopeful initiates. Please forgive me."

"Master, there is nothing to forgive," said Obi-Wan, slightly bewildered. "I was not destined to be your padawan learner. I was destined for another. As were you."

Qui-Gon gazed at Obi-Wan. "You are very different from the boy I met five years ago."

"Less angry, you mean. I do remember that." Obi-Wan smiled at him. "Master Teresh has helped me find control and serenity."

I rejected him because of his anger, thought Qui-Gon. Now he is the very model of serenity, while my own padawan still struggles with his anger.

He offered a slice of fruit to Obi-Wan, who accepted it. Their fingers brushed against one another. Obi-Wan looked down, concentrating on the fruit.

"You took Bruck as your padawan a short time after Cenchrea accepted me," said Obi-Wan.

"Yes. My mission to Bandomeer had been cancelled abruptly, and I spent some time at the Temple in meditation. I confess that I was feeling guilty, particularly after my last rejection." Qui-Gon smiled wryly.

"You were going to Bandomeer?" said Obi-Wan.

"I was -- but fate had other plans."

"I would have gone there myself if Master Teresh had not chosen me as her padawan."

"Interesting," said Qui-Gon.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted you, Master. Please continue."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I spent more time observing the students. Some weeks later, I decided to accept Bruck Chun as my apprentice. I saw much potential in him." He sat back. Potential, he thought. The whole truth is that I saw a chance to begin again. I picked someone whose temperament was close to that of Xanatos', someone with whom I could expunge my earlier mistakes. And I'm not at all sure that things will be so different this time. I may have failed again.

He said none of these things to Obi-Wan, but the youth studied his face and saw the taut emotion under the Jedi calm. Obi-Wan's heart ached for Qui-Gon, and he longed to touch his hand, to console him. He looked at the noble features, at the dark green tunic that enveloped his powerful body, and the large and graceful hands, and was suddenly powerfully aroused. He lowered his head to hide the blush rising to his face, and concentrated on eating a small roasted fowl, garnished with flower petals.

"Master Teresh tells me that the Governor of Telos was once your apprentice," said Obi-Wan, between mouthfuls.

Qui-Gon was silent, and Obi-Wan was afraid that he'd committed an unforgivable breach of courtesy.

"I apologize, Master. I should not have said that."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Not at all, Obi-Wan. Cenchrea told you of the manner of our parting?"

"She said that there was a confrontation," said Obi-Wan, hesitantly, "but that it was between you and Xanatos alone."

Qui-Gon sat back, lost in memory.

Crion's body. Xanatos standing over his father's corpse, his comely face twisted into a white mask of hatred. The cries of battle outside. The sound of searing flesh as the broken circle of Crion's ring of state scarred his apprentice's smooth pale cheek. Xanatos, lying on the floor, cursing him, Qui-Gon's saber blade centimeters from his heart. And finally, Xanatos leaving, smiling hatefully, the burn livid on his face.

"You should have killed me, Qui-Gon, when you had the chance."

He was dimly aware that Obi-Wan was speaking to him. "I beg your pardon, Padawan?"

"I did not mean to bring up a painful memory, Master," said Obi-Wan, his face remorseful.

"This is your mission too, Obi-Wan. I am not as confident about Xanatos' intentions as I would have had you believe. There is the possibility of risk."

"There is always that possibility," Obi-Wan said, calmly.

"My concern is for the infants."

"We shall protect them," said Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon felt a peculiar warmth at the quiet resolve on the young man's face.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Indeed we shall, Obi-Wan." 

Cenchrea tapped on Kir-Sal Freyn's door.

"Knight Teresh," Freyn said, cordially. "Won't you come in?"

Cenchrea peered into Freyn's room. "I doubt that we'd both fit. I just wanted to ask you a favor."

"Certainly. What is it?"

"I was wondering if I might see the information regarding the search...Xanatos' offer to have the parents bring their children to us."

"I'm afraid that I deleted the information after your decision to search in the traditional fashion," said Freyn. "However, if you give me a little time, I'm sure I can retrieve the data. May I ask why you wish to see it?"

"I don't precisely trust Xanatos' motives. I'm hoping that I may be able to glean some clues from the wording of the offer."

Freyn nodded. "That is wise. Give me a few minutes, and I'll transmit the information to your datapad. What is your terminal code?"

Cenchrea gave it to him. "Thank you, Kir-Sal. I do appreciate that you are taking the time to do this, particularly as I understand that you are working for the finance committee."

Freyn grinned. "Everyone gets a shot at it. It was my turn this time."

"Lucky you," Cenchrea remarked.

Kir-Sal Freyn smiled, shrugged, and retreated into his tiny room.

Cenchrea stood in the corridor for a few moments. She was certain that she'd find something, some detail that would show a slip in Xanatos' facade. A sudden uneasiness gripped her. She felt a cold chill, a ripple in the Force. Frowning, she went back into her room. 

The exercise room of the SOLITARY was charged with power. Anger, fear, aggression, the power of the dark side of the Force.

There was a whirl of movement. Pale skin, a braid, pure white, the deep crimson of a saber blade.

He rejected me.

The ozone smell of the lightsaber blade hung heavily in the air.

He rejected me.

Red met green as Bruck deflected a series of bolts from the drone. It was turned to nearly its highest setting.

He. Rejected. Me.

The saber, fully powered, sliced through the air, through the droid's protective field. The droid was split in two and the pieces crashed to the floor in a shower of sparks. There was a series of chittering noises, and then silence.

Bruck stared at the pieces silently, his body shaking with emotions that he did not want to acknowledge. He deactivated his saber and dropped to his knees. He would recite a litany, conquer his anger, restore his center.

The words would not come.

He rejected me. 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon walked down the corridor toward their rooms.

"We reach Telos in two days," said Qui-Gon. "We'll most likely spend the first night in the Governor's complex, and from there we'll go to the field."

Obi-Wan was startled. "Do you think that Xanatos will allow you to stay there?"

"I should be surprised if he did not insist upon it," said Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan nodded, and Qui-Gon was seized with an urge to tell Obi-Wan everything. Everything, down to the last agonizing detail. There was an engaging openness and trust on the boy's face. Qui-Gon had never felt so comfortable with Bruck. He felt ashamed. He withheld himself from Bruck; he'd always known that, but now he felt an impulse to share his innermost thoughts and feelings with this young man who was not his apprentice. Who, in fact, he'd rejected, and who bore him no ill will for it. Astonishing...or perhaps not. The boy was a Jedi, was he not?

They reached their rooms.

"Thank you for your company, Obi-Wan. You are a most engaging dinner companion."

"Thank you, Master. I enjoyed myself very much indeed."

Qui-Gon tried not to feel another surge of warmth, hearing Obi-Wan call him 'Master'.

Would that it were so, he thought, and was ashamed again. What in all the hells was wrong with him?

He turned toward the youth. "Good night, Padawan." His voice lingered softly on the last word.

Obi-Wan's eyes were brilliant. "Good night, Master."

They parted, and went into their separate rooms. 

Obi-Wan and Cenchrea sat on the floor of their cabin, surrounded by equipment. Obi-Wan had volunteered to double-check the midichlorian counters. Cenchrea, for lack of anything better to do, had joined him.

Obi-Wan dismantled a counter and checked its components. He picked up a needle packet, ripped it open, and injected the point into his fingertip. He transferred the droplet of blood to a fresh counter-plate, and slid it into the machine.

Cenchrea shook her head. "Midichlorians...I wish that the Council would allow me to search without the counters. It's as if they don't trust my judgment."

Obi-Wan smiled. It was a familiar complaint. "The Jedi have been using midichlorian counts as an aid to selection for centuries, Master."

"What happened to 'Trust your feelings'? Hmm?" She stabbed her fingertip, somewhat resentfully, and placed a drop of blood on the plate.

"You sound like Master Yoda."

"I just think that all this technology is unnecessary."

"I suppose that there is less room for error this way," said Obi-Wan, soothingly. Cenchrea sometimes complained about things that she couldn't change, and Obi-Wan did his best to calm her infrequent but heated grumbling.

Cenchrea looked at him narrowly. "Stop trying to sweet-talk me, Padawan."

"I wouldn't dare do a thing like that, Master," he said, his eyes wide and innocent.

"So you say. This one's fine," she said, snapping its case on and setting it aside. She picked up another one and opened it. "Oh, by the way," she said offhandedly, "how was dinner?"

Obi-Wan set his counter down and looked at her, a saucy smile on his face.

Cenchrea frowned. "What?"

"...'By the way'?"

Cenchrea looked up and addressed the ceiling. "One would think that my own padawan, the man to whom I have devoted my life, my energy, and my patience for the past five years...Force, five years!...One would think that he would at least give me some credit for attempting to be discreet."

"One would think," agreed Obi-Wan.

"You don't want to tell me? Fine. Hand me a needle packet."

They worked in silence for a few moments.

Cenchrea stole a glance at Obi-Wan. His head was down, but she could see the smile on his face.

She felt him looking at her, but kept her head lowered, steadfastly refusing to look at him. Insolent pup, she thought, smothering the laughter that threatened to bubble up. Suffer. I hope I live to see your padawan torment you the way you torment me.

"Master?"

She kept her head down. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Dinner was wonderful."

She looked up at him, and her heart clenched painfully. He was beaming, and a flush had suffused his face. He looked achingly young and innocent, and she felt a fierce surge of protectiveness. Force help you if you hurt him, Qui-Gon, she thought. She returned Obi-Wan's smile. "I'm so glad, Padawan."

Qui-Gon lay stretched out on the top bunk, reading, as Bruck took his physics exam. There was no sound but that of Bruck's fingers flying over the keys of his datapad.

Qui-Gon kept alert for signals of frustration or doubt from the boy, but he felt none. Bruck was an outstanding scholar, and required little prodding or supervision when it came to his lessons.

His anger, now...that was another thing entirely.

Qui-Gon set his own datapad down and watched Bruck, who was sitting on the floor, propped up against the bottom bunk. There was grace and surety even in the motion of his hands...the same grace that Xanatos had possessed in such abundance.

Qui-Gon shut his eyes. Bruck was not Xanatos; why did he persist in comparing the two? It was a destructive impulse, as though he, indulging himself in pessimism and self-defeat, was waiting for Bruck to fail. Rather he should be focusing on guiding the boy toward the fullness of light, to what it truly meant to be a Jedi. Qui-Gon sighed. He knew his own faults...he looked to the past to provide answers for the future. Cenchrea was right. His outlook did Bruck little good indeed.

And yet...there was still doubt. Neither Yoda nor the other Council members had commented on Bruck's anger. Perhaps they'd not seen it. Or perhaps they assumed that Qui-Gon, having learned a bitter lesson from Xanatos, would not fail to recognize anger in another padawan learner. And Qui-Gon did not seek their counsel. But still, there it was...that anger, usually tamped down, indeed, hidden away. But there were occasional glimpses of it, glimpses that surfaced like bubbles of poisonous gas in a pool of tar. He had given Bruck hundreds of exercises to purge his anger, and still it remained, brooding and unsettling.

Xanatos and Bruck, Bruck and Xanatos...

Although Qui-Gon's sense of the future was, at the best of times, dim and nebulous, he had a sudden strong premonition of disaster. Disaster, if he, Xanatos, and Bruck were drawn together.

Stop, he commanded himself. You cannot prevent the inevitable. Idly he wondered if this meeting was perhaps a test, a test for him and for Bruck, arranged by the Council. Perhaps they had seen Bruck's anger, after all. He dismissed the thought. If it were true, it smacked of pettiness, and the Council was never petty.

Bruck stood. "A perfect score, Master," he said, his voice cautiously jubilant.

Qui-Gon lowered his feet to the floor. He gave Bruck a quick one-armed embrace. "That's marvelous, Padawan. You make me proud." And he does, thought Qui-Gon. But for his anger, he would be a wonderful student. All of his teachers say so. He decided to put aside his doubts and focus on the future. Cenchrea would be proud, he thought wryly, amused -- but not surprised -- to discover that her opinion was valuable to him.

Bruck returned the embrace swiftly, both arms slipping about Qui-Gon's broad frame. Qui-Gon looked down at Bruck, smiling, but the smile died as he saw the look on his padawan's face. It was a look compounded of veneration and desire, a naked, desperate longing. Qui-Gon, dismayed, gently disentangled himself from Bruck's embrace. Bruck colored violently and Qui-Gon felt a terrible pity for the boy, knowing full well that pity was the last thing that Bruck wanted.

"You're advancing more rapidly in your lessons than your peers, Bruck," Qui-Gon said, his voice a bit unsteady. "I would not be surprised if you were singled out for another academic honor this year."

Bruck's pale blue eyes were bright. "Do you think so, Master?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "I am certain of it, Padawan."

"Thank you, Master."

"Would you like to work on the eleventh kata? I noticed that your left shoulder tends to slip occasionally. We need to correct that."

"Actually, Master, I'm rather hungry. I thought I'd eat."

"Very well. Perhaps later, then."

Bruck bowed and slipped out the door. Qui-Gon turned off his datapad and left the cabin. He'd walk, and clear his head. 

Cenchrea sighed with satisfaction as she finished with the last counter. "There. That's done, Padawan. And they all work. Too bad. I was hoping that at least one wouldn't, and I'd have to do without." She took Obi-Wan's hand and applied a light touch of healing Force. The faint sting from the needles disappeared. "What are your plans now?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't have any plans."

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Well, I am. I'm going to get some food. I was too tired to eat much by the time you returned last night."

"The khrah fowl is good," Obi-Wan offered.

"Maybe. I'll see you later, Padawan." She left the cabin, tossing a wave to Obi-Wan. As the door slid shut, he heard her call out, "Padawan Chun! How was your physics exam?" He didn't hear Bruck's reply, and he chuckled. Bruck liked Cenchrea about as much as he liked Obi-Wan, which was to say not at all. Cenchrea had been diplomatic enough not to mention it, but he still felt her amusement. She cared very little about being liked. Bruck's rather blatantly false pleasantness barely covered his irritation with her. He wondered that Qui-Gon didn't see it.

Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan felt suddenly constrained, and jumped up. Perhaps he'd explore the ship. He hadn't done so yet, and he usually tried to familiarize himself with the vessels on which he traveled during a mission.

His step was light as he left the cabin.

The ship's designers may have economized on some of the cabin space, but they certainly hadn't done so in the conservatory, mused Qui-Gon. It was huge and sprawling, easily three hundred meters long, and perhaps a hundred meters wide. Hundreds of species of trees and flowering plants flourished in no discernible order. There was an odd appeal to its lack of planning, Qui-Gon realized, a sort of rebuke to the rigid, if necessary, order of a starship. He drifted, as one tends to do in a wild garden, and was soon lost in the fragrant air and vivid color...so much so, that he did not hear the quick, light footsteps behind him.

"Hello, Master."

He turned at the voice, his heart thudding unexpectedly...yet pleasantly. "Obi-Wan! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. I was just admiring the garden."

"You must not be attuned to the Living Force, Master." He stopped, cursing himself silently. That sort of teasing was perfectly normal with his own master, but he sensed that Qui-Gon didn't rely upon levity much. "I - I'm sorry, Master. That was terribly rude of me," he stammered, feeling the hated red flush creep up his neck.

Qui-Gon was surprised into a laugh. "Very quick, Padawan. You're right, I should have sensed your presence."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I didn't mean to--"

"Don't worry about it, Obi-Wan. I'm not quite the melancholy figure Temple gossip makes me out to be. Oh yes," he said, cocking an eyebrow, "I know. I'm not deaf...occasionally blind, but not deaf." He smiled reassuringly at Obi-Wan, suppressing an urge to laugh. The boy looked terrified. Was he so intimidating to all the apprentices?

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Sorry, Master."

"Perfectly all right. Look at this flower," he said, wanting -- inexplicably -- to put this young man at ease. "On Pellinq, in its native soil, its petals only reach a diameter of ten centimeters. Yet when it is transported off-planet, it can grow up to thirty centimeters in diameter. Pellinq has a small white sun, unsuitable for this type of flower, really. And nevertheless it struggles on...but when removed from its harsh native environment, it thrives beautifully."

Obi-Wan bent to inhale the flower's perfume. He stroked its pale, waxy petals. "It's lovely." He smiled shyly at Qui-Gon, and they strolled on.

"We arrive on Telos tomorrow, Master," said Obi-Wan. He felt guilty at once. He should not have brought it up...Qui-Gon was obviously disturbed by any mention of his former apprentice. Obi-Wan was torn between the natural courtesy of not wanting to dredge up painful memories, and the powerful desire to comfort the tall Jedi. He mocked himself silently. As though Qui-Gon Jinn was in need of comfort from a mere padawan! But the feeling persisted. And Obi-Wan had been taught to trust his feelings.

Qui-Gon nodded solemnly. "We do. This mission is sure to present challenges to us all, Obi-Wan."

"Master Teresh says that each mission tests one's abilities in ways known and unknown."

"And so it does. Only after the mission, after careful contemplation, can we truly know how we have been tested."

"It's always wonderful to bring new initiates to the Temple, though," said Obi-Wan.

"Yes," said Qui-Gon. He sighed suddenly. New initiates, yes. But how many of those hopeful initiates became padawan learners? And of those, how many became knights...?

"Master?"

"Yes, Padawan?"

"Is something troubling you?" That was bold, Kenobi, Obi-Wan thought disgustedly. Now he'll rebuke you or simply walk away, and you'll deserve whatever shame you feel. You're a bigger kret than Bruck.

But Qui-Gon simply folded himself into a sitting position at the edge of a lotus-choked pond, and gestured for Obi-Wan to do the same. Obi-Wan sat by him obediently.

"You're very easy to talk to, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "Bruck--" Qui-Gon stopped, realizing that he'd been about to criticize his own padawan to one of his agemates.

"I wish that I'd been able to spar with Bruck," ventured Obi-Wan. "I prefer live opponents to drones, and I'd like to fight someone that I have an outside chance of defeating."

Gracefully done, Obi-Wan, thought Qui-Gon. "Bruck is quite good," he said. "We were going to drill the eleventh kata later. Perhaps you'd like to join us."

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

They sat quietly for a time, gazing at the small ripples in the water made by the pond oxygenators. At the same time, they were silently assessing one another, looking without seeming to look. A glance here, a glance there. When Obi-Wan was lost in thought, a small line appeared between his eyes. His hands, graceful and agile, plucked at bits of grass near his feet. Qui-Gon's nose had been broken at some point, and apparently never repaired correctly. Obi-Wan had the feeling that Qui-Gon disdained healing for appearances' sake, and this made him glad in a way that he could not explain. Besides, the slight defect only added to the man's appeal. Obi-Wan had a sudden, powerful urge to tear off Qui-Gon's clothing, look for scars, and learn the origin of each one. He breathed deeply, unaware that beside him, Qui-Gon was doing precisely the same thing.

"There is something that is troubling me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, softly.

"Yes, Master?" asked Obi-Wan, his voice even more hushed than Qui-Gon's.

"I have found myself dwelling on the past, Obi-Wan, and that is something that a Jedi should never do."

"Is it Xanatos, Master?"

"It is, partly...but it is something more. I have found myself wondering how my life would be different if I had accepted you as my padawan." He looked at Obi-Wan. There was no expression on the boy's face. His head was lowered, and he stared down at the ground.

"I am glad that you did not," said Obi-Wan, almost inaudibly.

"Oh. I see." There it is, thought Qui-Gon. You've insulted your own apprentice to one of his peers. And you've made a fool of yourself in the bargain. Of course he's glad! Cenchrea has been a far better influence on him than you could ever have been, and the boy knows it.

"But there is a reason for that, Master."

"Oh? And what is that, Padawan?" He smiled, wishing nothing more than to make a hasty departure. He prepared to rise, knowing what Obi-Wan's next words would be.

"Because if you were my master, I couldn't...I couldn't do this," he said, and darted forward and kissed Qui-Gon on the mouth.

It was a shy, sweet kiss, nearly childlike. Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan, who had pulled back abruptly, blushing furiously, stunned at his own audacity. Qui-Gon touched his finger to his lips, then reached out and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's cheek. His fingers drifted down, to the youth's mouth, and trailed over his lips with exquisite tenderness, memorizing their contours by touch.

Obi-Wan absorbed the touch silently. He'd hardly dared hope that this moment would come, and here it was, brought about by himself. He was at an utter loss, paralyzed with anticipation and desire. He wanted to do something...anything...but he couldn't move.

Qui-Gon leaned forward and kissed Obi-Wan, gently yet firmly. He did not touch the boy with his hands. Only their mouths met, light, lovely pressure.

Qui-Gon was astounded at the depths of his own emotion. Obi-Wan was a handsome young man, pleasant and intelligent, and clearly a promising pupil. But so was Bruck. And that brief mind-touch with Obi-Wan was far more powerful than the bond you share with Bruck, Qui-Gon thought. There is a connection that we share. He knows it, too. Qui-Gon, for the first time in many, many years, felt a crack, a fissure in the stone that had been his heart, and it felt...absolutely wonderful, he realized.

Obi-Wan's hands floated up and Qui-Gon caught them, holding them within his own as they kissed. Qui-Gon's mouth centered on Obi-Wan's lower lip, moving back and forth, finally opening, and closing down on it, capturing it. He's tasting me, thought Obi-Wan, and a wave of dizziness overtook him. He opened his mouth, and Qui-Gon pressed against him Their tongues met and twined around one another. Their hands clenched together tightly as they kissed, the gentle pressure becoming firm, deep, hungry.

Obi-Wan made an involuntary noise in his throat, a keening, desperate noise. The touches of mouths and hands were unbearable torture. He needed more, had to have more. He pressed harder into the kiss and twisted his body toward Qui-Gon, who held him at nearly arm's length and then broke off the kiss, staring into Obi-Wan's eyes.

Obi-Wan uttered a strangled cry, horrified at his own lack of control. Qui-Gon, still holding his hands, bent and kissed his neck. Obi-Wan gasped and let his head fall back. Qui-Gon's kisses were devastating. It was a good thing that they were sitting; otherwise Obi-Wan might have simply crumpled to the ground.

"Will you meet me here...tonight?" Qui-Gon's voice was muffled; he continued to kiss Obi-Wan's throat, and the exposed triangle of skin on Obi-Wan's chest.

"Why...why not now?"

Qui-Gon stopped kissing him and met his eyes. His smile was almost merry. "Because, Obi-Wan, I would prefer that we not be interrupted. There are few passengers about at night; the lights will be dimmed, and besides...besides," he said, touching Obi-Wan's mouth, swollen and ripe-looking now from Qui-Gon's kiss, "The waiting will make it all the sweeter."

Obi-Wan nodded, breathless. "Yes...oh, yes. When?"

Qui-Gon stood. He looked at his chrono. "Five hours from now. In here. By the pond."

"Yes, Master."

"Until then, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned and walked away, his footsteps nearly silent on the soft carpet of grass.

Obi-Wan touched his fingertips to his mouth, a tender, innocent gesture, remembering. "Until then, Qui-Gon," he whispered.

He rose to his knees, fumbled his meditation beads out of an interior pocket, and centered himself.

Five hours... 

Cenchrea emerged from the 'fresher as Obi-Wan came into the cabin.

"And where have you been?" she demanded. "I had to eat with Bruck. I don't think that he likes me very much, Obi-Wan. Come to think of it, I don't think that he likes you very much either. I almost referred to you as Oafy-Wan, just to see if I could provoke a reaction from him." She bent down and began to dry her hair. "I'm thinking about cutting my hair, Padawan. What do you think?"

"Don't cut it, Master. It's pretty."

"Flattery, my apprentice, will get you nowhere. Now why don't you tell me what it is that has you quivering like a leaf in a windstorm?" She tossed her head back and stared intently at Obi-Wan.

"It's Master Jinn. I'm...I'm meeting him later."

"I see. That didn't take long."

"Are you upset, Master?" He wanted Qui-Gon so badly, but if Cenchrea advised him against meeting him, then he would accept her wisdom.

"No, Padawan." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "I only want to know if you are ready for this. Qui-Gon Jinn is, I'm sure, unlike any other lover you've had before. Certainly older and more experienced."

"You make me sound like a virgin, Master." Obi-Wan's cheeks were hot.

"Sit down, Obi-Wan," Cenchrea said, guiding him to the chair. She sat facing him on the bunk. "I apologize if I offended you. You know that I would never invade your privacy. All I want is your happiness."

"I know that, Master."

"All right, then. When are you meeting him?"

"Two hours," said Obi-Wan. Two hours and eight minutes, actually, he thought.

"Well. That's plenty of time to make yourself presentable."

Obi-Wan nodded. He stood and walked to the door of the 'fresher. He stopped and gazed at Cenchrea, who was watching him with an almost wistful expression.

"What is it, Master?"

"I was just thinking about you, Obi-Wan. You are still so young..."

Obi-Wan's face was alight. "I'm ready, Master. I am."

Cenchrea made a shooing gesture with her hand. 

Qui-Gon Jinn was not a man given to vanity. And yet, now, he scrutinized himself in the mirror, a nameless anxiety in his chest.

Force, are you nervous? He's an eighteen year old boy! Hardly anything to worry over. But the sensation remained, spreading from his chest to his stomach. It was strangely thrilling. An eighteen year old boy. And I haven't felt like this since I was a padawan myself. He smiled at his own folly, thinking in an absentminded way that his eyes crinkled rather agreeably when he smiled.

He caught the two strands of hair at his temples and drew them back, securing them with a black band. He dressed in his customary Jedi tunics. No pretensions, no masks. Let Obi-Wan see him as he truly was.

He was fastening his boots when Bruck came in. "Good evening, Master. Are you going somewhere?"

"Good evening, Padawan. I should be back in a few hours." He offered no further explanation. He could only guess what Bruck's reaction would be if he were to inform him of his destination and his plans. Oh, yes, Padawan, in fact, I'm going to meet your former rival in the conservatory. My intentions? Far from honorable, Bruck, far from honorable.

Bruck nodded. "I'm worn out from all that exercise, Master. I thought Obi-Wan was supposed to join us earlier. What happened?"

"I don't know, Bruck. I suppose he decided not to practice after all."

Bruck kicked his boots off. "Well, good night, Master."

"Good night, Padawan." He looked at Bruck's face, and again felt pity. Oh, Bruck, I'm sorry. I can only guide your footsteps upon the path of light. I cannot love you...not in the way you want to be loved. Someday you will meet someone that will love you unconditionally, and you will regard me only as your teacher. For both our sakes, I hope that day will come soon. "Good night, Padawan," he repeated softly, and left the cabin, the door sliding shut behind him.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the 'fresher, a towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced at the clothing that Cenchrea had laid out on his bunk.

"I thought I'd wear the black tunic," he said.

Cenchrea shook her head. "Tonight you show him who you are. Your exterior will reflect your interior. You are not a shop window display, not a gilded courtesan. You are a Jedi, and everything that Qui-Gon sees in you is part of your identity. You have no need for adornment, Obi-Wan. You are beautiful as you are. Qui-Gon will see that. I promise you."

Obi-Wan dressed in his white tunic and leggings. He began to double-knot the laces of his tunic, and Cenchrea stopped him. "Wait," she said. She tied the laces in a bow.

"But they'll work loose!" protested Obi-Wan.

Cenchrea raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," said Obi-Wan, chastened.

Cenchrea helped him on with his outer tunic. "Are you sure that I should wear this, too, Master?"

"More to put on means more to take off, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blushed and cinched his belt. He slipped on his boots, and stood before Cenchrea. "How do I look?"

She shook her head slowly. "A lamb to the slaughter." She took a comb from the tiny dresser and sat in the chair. She gestured to Obi-Wan. "Come here, Padawan. Kneel."

Obi-Wan removed his bead and hair tie from his wet braid and knelt before his master. She loosened the braid and combed it out. She parted it and began to weave it together again. She secured the bead and the black hair tie, and took Obi-Wan's face in her hands. "I don't think that Qui-Gon Jinn realizes what he's getting in you, Obi-Wan. If he has your heart, then he could never ask for a more precious gift in the universe."

"Can a heart be divided in two, Master?"

"Why do you ask, my apprentice?"

"Because you already have my heart, and you always will."

She smiled, and leaned forward and kissed Obi-Wan's forehead. "Qui-Gon awaits you, my padawan. Go." 

To the casual observer, he would have seemed the very picture of Jedi serenity. He walked at a steady, deliberate pace. His face was calm, and his posture relaxed. He smiled and bowed slightly to two elderly women, who turned to watch him as he walked past.

He stepped onto the turbolift and wiped his sweating hands on his tunic.

He hesitated at the door to the conservatory. His heart beat wildly, and there was a pounding in his ears like the roar of an ocean. He put his hand on the door, and the rhythm of his heart increased. He felt the presence of the Jedi on the other side of the door.

"Qui-Gon," he whispered, and pushed the door open. 

Cenchrea stepped out of her cabin in time to see Bruck slipping out of his room. When he saw her, he quickened his pace. "Bruck!" she said. "Where are you headed?"

Bruck turned. His face was drained of color, and his eyes were wide. "I have to find my master," he said.

"Is there something that I can assist you with?" she asked him.

"No...no...I have to talk to him myself. I have to find out where he has gone." Bruck ran his hands distractedly through his hair. Cenchrea gave him a long, hard look, a dawning suspicion in her heart.

"Why do you need to see him, Bruck?"

"Do you know where he is?" asked Bruck, his eyes narrowed.

Cenchrea shook her head. "No," she said. Close enough. She knew whom he was with, but not where he had gone. She put a hand on his arm. "Bruck, will you--"

He shook her hand off. "Excuse me, Master," he said, and strode away.

Cenchrea sighed. "Bruck," she said quietly, charging her voice with Force. Bruck slowed but didn't stop. "Bruck!" He halted and turned.

"Come to me, Padawan."

Bruck walked towards her. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his face. "You've had a very busy day," she said firmly. "I think that you need to sleep. You're tired."

"I'm tired," Bruck said, hollowly. Cenchrea led him back to his cabin, opened the door, and settled him on the bottom bunk.

"Now sleep, Padawan, and when you awaken, you'll remember nothing of our conversation."

Bruck nodded, his eyelids already drifting shut. Cenchrea unfastened his boots and pulled them off, gazing sympathetically at the sleeping youth. Bruck...why didn't I see it before? she thought. Even in sleep, the boy's face was tense and drawn. She put a hand to his forehead and sent a wave of reassurance to him, and watched as his brow smoothed out ever so slightly. She pulled the light cover up to Bruck's chin. Qui-Gon, you have a very large problem, she thought, recalling Obi-Wan's own awkward, stammering declaration of love to her. Fortunately, her padawan had enough sense to realize that a relationship between master and padawan was almost always disastrous. Obi-Wan had bounced back with the typical resilience and speed of youth. Actually, his pining had been almost insultingly brief, she reflected with a smile.

Masters should choose apprentices of completely incompatible species, she mused. It would make things so much simpler. Then again, it probably wouldn't matter much. The closeness that a master-padawan pair shared inevitably resulted in so much more than a student-teacher bond...perhaps such feelings were to be expected more often than not.

Cenchrea lowered herself into the chair and watched the young man sleep. She might as well keep watch and soothe Bruck's sleep. She felt ashamed. She hated using Force-persuasion, and only relied upon it as a last resort, when her life or Obi-Wan's was in danger. To use it on a Jedi padawan seemed to be utterly dishonorable, and her motives even more so. To give Bruck a mind-suggestion so that her padawan might indulge himself with Bruck's master...poor Bruck, she thought. Being in love with your Master is a difficult thing indeed, and Qui-Gon should have done something about it long before this. Surely all the signs had been there. It was just like what had happened with Xanatos.

Force, no...

She sat frozen, engulfed in events long buried. 

She'd been a senior padawan, eager and enthusiastic. Her master, Raisa Phen, had just informed her that she would take her trials sometime within the next year. Ecstatic, she'd gone to find Xanatos, to give him the news. Xan was in the midst of his trials himself, and everyone whispered that he'd be knighted within the month.

They'd gone drinking to celebrate, and had wound up in bed, their habit as of late. Xanatos took her braid and wrapped it around his finger. "Knight Teresh," he said teasingly. She laughed and slapped at his hand.

"You'll be a knight yourself very soon," she said.

Xanatos' eyes had darkened. "Do you think so, Cenchrea?" he asked her.

She was confused. "Why...of course I do. You're going through your trials, and everyone says that you're passing each test with great success. Master Jinn must be very proud of you. He's a damned fool if he's not."

Xanatos had smiled at her. "Master Jinn...oh, yes, he's proud. I can tell. But I think that the Council keeps inventing more tests for me. They don't trust me, Cenchrea. I've done everything in my power to prove that I am worthy, and still they withhold their trust." His face was stormy, and she'd been somewhat apprehensive. She reached out to touch his pale cheek.

"Xan..." she said. "If the Council has some doubts, then surely you can overcome them. You will be a knight soon, never fear."

"Cenchrea...have you ever wanted anything