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Nothing in the Dark - continued

(continued from part 9)

Mekall woke to pre-dawn light filtering through the blinds and the rustle of Obi-Wan fastening the outer layer of his tunics. He watched him put on his utility belt before clearing his throat and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"You don't fake wake well," Obi-Wan informed him.

"Who the hells gets up at this hour?" Mekall griped.

"Jedi," Obi-Wan replied. "No need for you to."

"I want to," Mekall said. Obi-Wan, it occurred to him, looked even more handsome in his Jedi regalia. He sat up, letting the sheet to drop to his waist. The object of his admiration warmed at the projection of his thoughts.

"I wish I could. Councilor Windu is outside."

"Councilor? I always thought he was ambitious."

"I'm quite sure ambition is unbecoming a Jedi," Obi-Wan quipped.

Mekall got up and dressed. Qui-Gon and Mace Windu were at the dining table, deep in a discussion which halted as the two young men approached.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon's old friend smiled, "we were all most pleased and relieved to hear of your return. The Council especially, despite your unorthodox entry."

"I'm sorry, Master. I had -"

Mace held up a hand to stop him. "No explanation's needed, but for propriety's sake."

"Of course," Obi-Wan acceded.

Mace's eyes surveyed Mekall.

"Master Windu," Obi-Wan said, "this is Mekall Nower. He -"

"Yes, Qui-Gon was telling me about it. Mekall," Mace greeted him.

"Master Windu."

"I hope the years have treated you well," Mace said.

"No worse than the Jedi," Mekall retorted.

"We owe you a debt, Mekall." Mace bridged the uncomfortable silence that ensued from Mekall's comment. "If there is something which would make your stay more pleasant . . ."

Mace Windu had always been adroit and politic, Mekall recalled, as the Jedi continued speaking.

"Obi-Wan, we should proceed according to policy, from here on out. It will ease your transition and smooth any ruffled feathers. Qui-Gon was telling me the militants on Kiradian put a Force inhibitor on you."

"Yes."

"The Council will need to speak with you about it, as soon as you're up to it."

"I'm up to it now," Obi-Wan told him. He did not want to feel tiptoed around. That would be too much.

Mekall shot him a look.

"Good," Mace encouraged, "no time like the present." He rose and put on his robe in a motion likely to give Mekall flashbacks for days, sweeping Obi-Wan along in his wake. He took the replacement cloak Qui-Gon had already procured for Obi-Wan from its hook by the door and handed it to him. Obi-Wan slipped into it as the councilor spoke.

"It would be best if you were cleared by the healers first. I'll go down there with you and then I think -"

The rest was cut off as the door shut, leaving Mekall and Qui-Gon alone together.

"No time like the present," Mekall muttered tartly.

"It is in his best interest that he begins to reacclimate as soon as possible. He seems quite estranged from himself," Qui-Gon asserted.

You don't know the half of it, Mekall thought.

Qui-Gon went into the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat?" he called back, hoping to divert any chance Mekall had to take exception to his last remark.

Mekall walked cautiously into the kitchen.

The man constantly looks as though he expects to be attacked, Qui-Gon decided. "Are you hungry?" he asked, sending a touch of soothing, as if dealing with a skittish animal.

"I could eat a bantha," Mekall admitted.

"I'm sure we have something slightly tastier than that," Qui-Gon smiled

Mekall let Qui-Gon show him what was where. They ended up back at the dining table.

"I'd feel better if Obi-Wan had eaten something," Qui-Gon observed neutrally.

Mekall bristled at the implication about the previous night, but could not decide if that was what Qui-Gon meant.

"He's not ready," Mekall declared.

"You may be right," Qui-Gon observed, "but he will manage. It is his nature."

"It's what he's been taught," Mekall countered.

"Perhaps," Qui-Gon replied mildly.

Mekall belayed a huff of annoyance, scanned Qui-Gon's face and waited for his follow up.

"How did you. . . when you found him," Qui-Gon inquired, "what was his condition? He gave me to understand he was assaulted."

"Master Jinn -" Mekall began irritably, getting to his feet.

"Qui-Gon," Qui-Gon reminded him calmly.

"Qui-Gon," Mekall revised, more annoyed for Jinn's effort at taking the wind out of his sails, "that is between you and Obi-Wan. I won't -"

"Mekall, please sit down and eat. I didn't mean to provoke you. I don't want to trespass where you do not feel it is appropriate for me to be. We'll have to work out the mechanics of this thing, together, the three of us. I'll try not to be intrusive, but you must understand I'm concerned for Obi-Wan. It's obvious that he's been through an ordeal, though he is doing his best to manage it."

Mekall sat down, trying to restrain the aggression he was feeling. The worry on Qui-Gon's face was genuine enough, but he could not help wondering if Obi-Wan's master was trying to Force manipulate him. Either way, he wanted to meet Jinn head on.

"Always done that, has he?" Mekall asked, to bide his time while attempting to prove his suspicion.

"As a child," Qui-Gon reminisced, "the only way I knew he was ill was if he would not eat. He's quite stubborn."

"I'd noticed," Mekall contributed, amused.

Qui-Gon could not help but feel the shift in the other man; he sensed the enjoyment of his padawan behind Mekall's fleeting smile. This man did love Obi-Wan. What then was the feeling of darkness he kept picking up around them?

The two shared the table quietly for a few minutes until Qui-Gon had finished his meal. "I must leave," he told Mekall. "You know where things are. Not much has changed. Obi-Wan should be back within a few hours. I won't be back until late this afternoon."

He rose, detoured into his room and came back with his datapad.

"Do you need anything?" Qui-Gon asked. Mekall's expression was harsh when he looked his way, but it smoothed out and he shook his head no. Qui-Gon considered posing the question the sadness in Mekall's face invited, but he thought better of it and left.

Obi-Wan had been assessed by the healers, interviewed by the Council and debriefed by the Missions Oversight Committee by the time he arrived back at their quarters at midday.

Mekall was sitting in the main room, reading when Obi-Wan entered, passed him, went into his bedroom and flopped down on the bed still wearing his robe. He put his arm over his eyes and breathed in audibly.

"Went well, did it?" Mekall commented sarcastically.

"It's fine," Obi-Wan exhaled, arm still covering his face.

Mekall walked to the end of the bed and undid Obi-Wan's boots. He took them off, put them away and came back to sit beside him on the bed, waiting a minute before suggesting, "You should eat."

"Mm-hm," Obi-Wan agreed but he did not move.

"What did they say?" Mekall asked.

"Who?"

"The healers?"

"They cleared me but I've been given discretionary duty to regain my strength and work on the bond."

"They don't know?" Mekall queried.

"They know," Obi-Wan assured him. "They were humane enough not to ask. Yet. I'm supposed to make an appointment to see a psych healer."

"The Council?"

"Was the Council. Slightly solicitous, highly investigative. They were quite interested in the collar. If you could get it from the Tavin . . ."

"Sure. As long as I get it back afterward," Mekall answered.

Obi-Wan uncovered his eyes and raised his head.

A smile slowly transformed Mekall's expression.

"I'll mention it to them," Obi-Wan smirked, his head dropping back down to the bed.

"You were where else?" Mekall asked.

"Missions Oversight," Obi-Wan told him.

"Who said . . . "

"Welcome home. You're awfully inquisitive."

"More like bored to death. What do you want to do now?"

"I take it lying here is right out."

"You don't look up to the ideas it's giving me."

"Don't you ever get enough?" Obi-Wan kidded.

"Of you?" Mekall inquired. "What do you think?"

"I think - Where's Qui-Gon?"

"Well, that took the edge off. He's out."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know. Master stuff." "Master stuff?" Obi-Wan chuckled.

Mekall shrugged and grinned. "You really should eat."

"Does it seem to you that all we do is eat and have sex?"

"We should be so lucky."

Obi-Wan ate haltingly and with little interest. Mekall did not get much more himself, he was too busy watching Obi-Wan not eating. Afterward, Mekall made Obi-Wan lie down, sending him into the bedroom alone to ensure he got to sleep. Obi-Wan was up again before an hour had passed, the short rest succeeding only in deepening the purple crescents under his eyes.

When Obi-Wan joined Mekall in the main room, Mekall relocated from the desk to the sofa. Obi-Wan sat next to him while Mekall continued some research on line. He had only been reading for a few minutes when he felt Obi-Wan's head drooping onto his shoulder. He put down his datapad and gently wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan, pulling him in. He was tempted to deepen the slumber but did not. He simply let Obi-Wan use him for a pillow.

Qui-Gon returned as nightmeal drew near. Obi-Wan awakened chagrined to have been sleeping on Mekall in front of his master. Flushed and visibly unsettled, Obi-Wan insisted on cooking. Qui-Gon went to his desk to complete some business from his day; he joined the two of them at the table when nightmeal was ready.

Not wishing to disrupt appetites, Qui-Gon held off questioning Obi-Wan until Mekall was doing the dishes. He took Obi-Wan into the main room, where they sat down opposite one another.

"How did you fare, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, noting Obi-Wan's fatigue and continuing unease but presuming his padawan's preference would be to work through it.

"It was a long morning," Obi-Wan answered overly carefully, offering no elaboration.

"The briefing to the Council?" Qui-Gon added.

"They primarily wanted to know about the Force collar. It turns out my situation became somewhat of a diplomatic breakthrough. The main faction of the Xasx were eager to prove they were not their ferocious brethren and the C'Sthen wanted to make amends for the damage to their entire society's reputation."

"Yes, I have been following the outcome of the talks. The Force can work in curious ways at times."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said, his countenance becoming veiled. "Silly of me."

"Not at all," Qui-Gon assured him. "How was your report from the healers?"

"I was cleared," Obi-Wan told him. "I have to see a psych healer."

"And the Missions Committee?" Qui-Gon felt as if he was prying information from a hostile diplomat. "How did you m -"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"Are you unwell, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I'm very tired," Obi-Wan said.

"I had hoped we might begin to discuss your experience."

"If you don't mind, Master, I've been discussing my . . . experience all day."

"Have you had the chance to meditate on what I mentioned last night, about your shield -"

Qui-Gon stopped in mid-sentence as Obi-Wan stood.

"If you would prefer, we can make an early night of it and start fresh tomorrow," Qui-Gon acquiesced.

Obi-Wan was already half way to his room.

Mekall was baffled by hearing master and padawan speak so briefly. He had not told him? Why would he not have told him? Mekall finished clearing up and went to Obi-Wan's room. Obi-Wan was sitting on the edge of the bed looking distraught; his belt and sash were off, leaving his tunics hanging open. "What happened?" Mekall asked.

"I couldn't," Obi-Wan said hoarsely. "I couldn't."

"Obi-Wan, you have to -"

"Don't tell me what I have to do."

"I tried not to pressure you on the ship, but -"

"How noble," Obi-Wan muttered scornfully.

"What?"

"Mekall, we're not on your schedule anymore."

"I resent your implication."

"I can't be the same person here that I was alone with you."

"I understand that," Mekall acknowledged. "I don't have to like it, but I accept it. I'm not asking you to change. I'm asking you to let yourself begin to get on with healing. You've been acting like . . . You've been trying to act like nothing happened, like you weren't ra -"

"Don't," Obi-Wan said, getting to his feet, "just don't."

"That's right. It is about time for you to escape to the 'fresher, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan's eyes clashed with his, hard and wounded at the same time. "Go to hell."

"Already there."

Obi-Wan walked out. He did not want to prove Mekall right, but, at the same time, he really wanted a shower. Not sure if he was more irritated with Mekall or himself, he headed in that direction. Qui-Gon looked up from where he was working at his desk as Obi-Wan passed through but said nothing.

In a few minutes, Mekall came into the common room and sat down heavily. Qui-Gon waited for him to speak. When he did not, Qui-Gon put aside his work.

"He wouldn't talk to you either?" Qui-Gon inquired.

"No."

"I don't understand his reaction," Qui-Gon ventured. "The questions I was asking him were most innocuous. I certainly did not expect to elicit the response I got. How does he seem to you?

"He's . . ." Mekall appeared to struggle with the question, "tired."

Qui-Gon subdued the extremely dissatisfied snort which wanted out. "Yes," he granted, "that much he said. Is he sleeping? I mean, does he sleep?

"He - We - Uh . . . There was a thing on the ship."

"A thing," Qui-Gon repeated.

"Obi-Wan had a sort of a setback."

"What sort of setback?"

"In the bond. We were . . . We had a disagreement. We've made it up, but he's been pretty much like this since."

"Like what?"

"Worn out. Mercurial. Confused."

"You're unaffected?"

"I wouldn't say that . . . less affected. I let him be. I thought once he was here . . ."

Qui-Gon got up and came over to where Mekall was sitting. "Once he was here?" the master probed.

Mekall looked down to cover his agitation.

"Mekall," Qui-Gon entreated, "what happened to him?"

"Ask him."

"I did. He evaded my questions and fled. So I am asking you."

"I already told you I won't discuss that without Obi-Wan." With perfect timing, they heard the 'fresher door open. Both men looked at Obi-Wan who walked through without stopping or looking up. Two sets of eyes followed his path until his bedroom door closed. Qui-Gon's eyes stayed on it a moment longer while Mekall tried to get a read of the master's reaction.

"How is the bond now?" Qui-Gon avoided entering into a possible sparring match with Mekall about what had just occurred.

"It's all right," Mekall replied. "He's . . . compartmentalized it."

"I think you're fooling yourself," Qui-Gon declared. "An incipient bond cannot help but be impacted by this sort of behavior from one of the -"

Obi-Wan's door opened. He walked from his room to the kitchen. There were sounds of movement. He came back across carrying something to drink and disappeared into his room. Again, he had not looked at either man.

"This cannot continue," Qui-Gon stated.

Mekall shook his head. He looked as weary and perturbed as he felt, which was exacerbated by having to discuss it with a Jedi master.

"That is what I'm referring to, Mekall. A soul bond does not require one be completely open all the time, but the way he's walling himself off can only be detrimental to you both at this point in the bond's development."

Mekall sighed loudly. Opining Jedi. Just what the healer ordered. Would you like to stick some needles under my fingernails as well, Master Jinn?

The bond, the padawan, the master, the Temple. He really, really did not need this. He wondered if it was too late to turn around and go back to Larral.

"Does this thing fold out?" Mekall asked, patting the couch.

"Yes," Qui-Gon laughed lightly, disarmed by his humor. "Mekall, I suspect there is little we would agree on in the universe, but Obi-Wan's welfare is common ground. Maybe tomorrow, we can talk to him together."

"We can try," Mekall responded.

Qui-Gon looked up at hearing an odd noise. He barely had time to register the keening whimper before it became full-throated shouting and he was running toward his padawan's bedroom.

On the floor, tangled in the bed sheets, Obi-Wan was ashen, yelling and fighting wildly against an imagined enemy. Qui-Gon got down beside him and attempted to still him. Obi-Wan fought all the harder.

Mekall had gone back to Obi-Wan's bedroom, feeling inclined to smooth things over between them. Obi-Wan was having none of it. Mekall ended up going to take a shower. He heard Obi-Wan's scream as he stepped out. Not caring he was naked, he sprinted across the apartment to Obi-Wan's room to find him wrestling with his master.

"What are you doing?" Mekall lashed out at Qui-Gon.

"I can't wake him," Qui-Gon explained, flustered. "He won't wake up."

Mekall insinuated himself between them. He tried shaking Obi-Wan, calling his name and communicating through the bond, with no results. As a last resort, Mekall struck him across the face. It was a painfully sharp slap, to Qui-Gon's ears. Still tangled in the sheets, Obi-Wan backpedalled. Not fully awake, with retreat halted by the wall, Obi-Wan somehow managed to trip to his feet. Shaken Qui-Gon did not move. Mekall advanced.

"Obi-Wan, wake up. You're home. Can you hear me?"

Obi-Wan looked at him, but not with any real awareness.

Mekall went up to him. "It's all right. You're on Coruscant," he told him, untangling the sheet, "in your room. It's okay. I'm here."

Flicking the sheet clear, Mekall put his other hand around Obi-Wan's neck and pulled him close. "I'm here," he murmured. They stood together, Mekall sending comfort and grounding. Obi-Wan began to come back to himself and his arms went around Mekall.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asked dazedly.

"You fell asleep while I was in the 'fresher. What were you dreaming? Were you back there again?" Mekall did not want to reveal too much.

Obi-Wan stiffened as he began to orient himself and saw his master on the floor. He took a step away from Mekall.

Qui-Gon refused to let himself be further discomposed by Obi-Wan and Mekall's intimacy. He rose, doing his utmost to deal with what was of import in this. He had been jarred by Obi-Wan's atypical behavior; he would not allow himself to be again.

"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, noticing for the first time that Mekall was unclothed. He took back the sheet and draped it around Mekall's waist. "I'm fine, Master. It was only a nightmare."

"Clearly you are not fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon protested.

"It doesn't matter," Obi-Wan demurred.

"What were you dreaming?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan glanced at Mekall, hoping he would speak up.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon persisted.

"It's of no consequence, Master. Truly. I can't even remember it now."

"You can't -" Qui-Gon stopped himself, thwarted by Obi-Wan's stonewalling. Reprimanding Obi-Wan in his mood in the middle of the night would do little good, but they would discuss this in the morning. Wanting to offer some support to his exhausted-looking padawan, Qui-Gon went to him and placed his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I am not the enemy, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon felt it necessary to remind him.

Obi-Wan looked puzzled. Qui-Gon was glad to know that he was not what Obi-Wan had been fighting.

"All right, Padawan. For now. Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

"No, I just want to go back to sleep," Obi-Wan told him.

"I'll leave you then. Until morning," Qui-Gon settled for offering. "If you cannot sleep, contact Healer Sollas. He has been most understanding."

Obi-Wan's eyes were conflicted when they met his.

"Please don't hesitate," Qui-Gon implored. "Anything."

Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon gave his shoulder a slight squeeze and walked out of the room.

Obi-Wan gave Mekall a chilly once over after Qui-Gon had gone.

"I heard you yell," Mekall explained his state of undress. "I just came running."

"Yes, well, put something on. I need the sheet back," Obi-Wan ordered curtly.

Obi-Wan stripped out of his sweat-soaked sleep leggings and walked toward his bureau.

"I don't care," Mekall said.

"Obviously," Obi-Wan critiqued.

"About him seeing."

"I do. I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Mekall -"

"Okay, okay," Mekall said.

"We cannot be a spectacle here," Obi-Wan said. Then he smiled oddly. "I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when you came in."

"He looked scared for you," Mekall said very seriously.

Obi-Wan sobered at once.

"He's worried about you, Obi-Wan," Mekall continued. "I'm worried about you."

"I know that."

"Don't freeze me out. I need -"

"You need?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding cross.

Mekall went over to him, gave him a few seconds to separate if he chose to and then embraced him.

"I'm not ready," Obi-Wan said as he eased into the hug. "When he looks at me . . . I want what it was, not what it is."

"I can't stand the pity," Obi-Wan added. "All day. Everywhere I went, furtive glances, open stares."

Some would sense his pain and his turmoil, Mekall realized. The Force did not flow smoothly around Obi-Wan.

"Like they knew," Obi-Wan added. "Like they know. And they do. Or they will. If I let down one increment. The dam bursts, the floodgates open and my whole world washes away. Again."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mekall averred.

Obi-Wan smiled a little into Mekall's bare shoulder.

They stood together for a few moments, then went to the bureau to get fresh night wear.

Mekall helped Obi-Wan remake the bed. It took a long time for either man to close his eyes, but eventually Obi-Wan did fall asleep. Mekall could not. He lay there as Obi-Wan dozed fitfully and jolted awake every time his bondmate began to dream anew.

After a few restless hours of sleep, Obi-Wan gave up on it. Mekall, who had eventually fallen asleep against him, woke when he did. It took about five seconds for Mekall to come around enough to look disgruntled.

"Morning," Obi-Wan offered apologetically.

"Is that what you call it?" Mekall rubbed his fingers over his closed eyes.

Obi-Wan was already out of bed and gathering clothing.

Mekall surmised they would be playing avoid the master. "I'm not going to say a word," he said.

"You want to sleep more?" Obi-Wan offered.

"I don't have the energy for more sleep right now."

"Nor have I," Obi-Wan smiled faintly. "I'm going to work out. Care to join me?"

Mekall was in no mood to dispute the merits of the idea. If the way he felt was anything to go by, he could just let Obi-Wan continue the way he was going until he ran himself into the ground and collapsed in a tan and brown heap. I only have to keep from being the one to cave, Mekall thought, his frown deepening.

Mekall hurriedly located trousers and his shirt from the day before. Obi-Wan was already dressed in workout gear and getting ready to leave.

Much as he would have liked to know if Qui-Gon was awake, Obi-Wan did not scan the apartment for his master. He did not want to run into Qui-Gon right now, in which case it was best to leave their connection dormant.

Obi-Wan packed a full change of clothes and his boots into a bag and went out into the low light of the common room. Not stopping to check whether Mekall was behind him, he put on his robe and exited.

Mekall's nerves were set on edge as they progressed through the awakening Temple. It was all he could do to keep from running down the halls. Obi-Wan walked placidly enough beside him, but they did not encounter anyone the young Jedi knew. Mekall pondered the chances of that being a coincidence, in a place where Obi-Wan knew so many people. How much was he using the Force to hide his whereabouts? How long could he keep up that level of shielding?

Obi-Wan wrote his name on the chalkboard and went into the salle he had chosen. Mekall took a few minutes to explore the exercise wing, the quiet a decided contrast to what he remembered, but all else much the same.

They began to work out together. Mekall soon tired and moved aside. Obi-Wan performed one kata and then combined another with a lightsaber drill. Mekall was struck by his grace and skill, even in his less than optimum condition, but felt himself nodding off despite his interest. He volunteered to get firstmeal. Obi-Wan gave him his security chip so that Mekall could leave and reenter the grounds. He did not think Mekall was planning on the two of them eating in the Jedi dining hall.

On his way back through the Temple corridors, Mekall took his time.

Moderate your pace, he lectured himself, control your responses. It is only a building, after all. An edifice. Ancient, imposing. A sanctuary of light and right. A vast repository which housed the means of ensuring the preservation of knowledge and civilization throughout the known galaxies. A bastion of peace which had stood for as long as anyone alive could remember.

Stop that, his inner voice chided. Enough. It's only a building. Roof and walls. You have every right to be here. It's only a building, he repeated to himself like a mantra as he left it behind. Only a building.

Once out into Coruscant proper, Mekall was able to embrace the bustle of the city planet. There had been a time when he had loved these streets. He went to the gourmet district to buy caff, bread and other firstmeal things. He was not hungry but they had to resume a normal routine. When small things started disintegrating, large ones quickly followed.

Back in the quarters, Mekall determined he was alone. No Obi-Wan, no Jinn. He took a sonic shower, changed and started the caff brewing. When it was ready, he poured a cup, lit a cheroot and took both into the common room to scan the morning newsfeeds.

The air of their quarters was redolent of smoke and an extremely strong Torrian caff Qui-Gon particularly disliked. Mekall - his legs stretched out across the sofa, his datapad in his lap and a cheroot burning in the ashtray - was asleep.

Why, Qui-Gon wondered, is he not wearing a shirt?

Qui-Gon had compelled his mind to quiet the night before in order to get some rest. He had awakened early, agitated. His disquiet increased at finding Obi-Wan up and gone. He had broken fast with Mace who helped him harness his restless unease in order to question Obi-Wan, but it was not Obi-Wan who awaited him.

"Have you seen Obi-Wan this morning?" Qui-Gon asked.

Mekall had only been asleep for a few minutes. Sleep deprived and dazed by the abruptness of his waking, Mekall sifted disjointedly through his thoughts for a coherent reply to Jinn's question.

"He went to - We went to work out," he said. "That is, he worked out, I mostly wa -" Mekall desisted at an almost imperceptible shift in the master's visage. He turned his attention to extinguishing his cheroot. Focus, _focus_, he lambasted himself, hunting for a quick but more plausible excuse. "We woke up very early. He didn't want to disturb you."

"I know you don't believe that," Qui-Gon said. "Is he coming back now?"

"I thought he'd be back already," Mekall met Qui-Gon's gaze, refusing to be intimidated by his sternness. "I got things for firstmeal," he informed him. "Would you like - No," he revised, "I don't guess you would. I'll leave you your space." Mekall closed the laptop and got up.

"There's no need, Mekall. You are living here."

Mekall managed not to show the smile he was fighting as a result of the tenor of Qui-Gon's response.

"No, it's fine," he insisted. "I have to get a shirt anyway."

The smile did slip free once Mekall was in Obi-Wan's room. He was concerned about Obi-Wan, however. It had been over an hour. Then he remembered Obi-Wan had taken clothes and his robe with him. He probably would not see him for a while.

Mekall went to the window to observe Coruscant's morning. As a child, he had enjoyed spending time watching the ceaseless progression of the traffic, its crisscrossing patterns, all the different types of transport. There was a pleasing mechanical aesthetic to it, a controlled chaos that had made him feel safe. He had not known the dark side of this world then, not until he had gone to the lower levels. There was no beauty there. He had learned to despise the idea of the privileged topside.

Mekall put aside his past. He was not that boy anymore. They could not hurt him now, unless he let them, and that was not going to happen. He needed to figure out what he was going to do to help Obi-Wan - and himself. He angled the blinds to let sunlight bathe the room and folded onto the floor to meditate.

Qui-Gon had a busy day ahead of him. Nevertheless, he made the time to meditate. He required the outlet, if he was going to focus as he must. He was having a hard time maintaining serenity when it came to Mekall.

Mekall's very presence seemed to be upsetting Qui-Gon's balance. Hostility rolled off the man in waves. Almost every word out of the his mouth was intended to provoke. Qui-Gon could recall having met Mekall when he was an initiate. There appeared to be nothing of the boy left in the man. That, Qui-Gon reconsidered, was unlikely. Mekall had spent almost half his life as a Jedi. Those lessons were not easily discarded. Derided, resented, rebelled against, yes. But in Qui-Gon's experience most ex-Jedi, be they knights, padawans or initiates, given sufficient time in the system, ended up living by what they had learned here, one way or another. Mekall had or he would not have brought Obi-Wan back.

Mekall's obdurateness had developed as a matter of survival. From his perspective, aggression was a reasonable reaction to most situations, especially to the prying eyes and minds of the Temple. He felt vulnerable - that much was abundantly clear. He was used to making the rules; the bond with Obi-Wan had changed that radically. While he was not happy about having to return to this place, he cared enough to make the sacrifice.

Last night, speaking with him and later, tending to Obi-Wan, Mekall had shown courage and compassion. Yet, Qui-Gon still doubted his motivations. Obi-Wan no doubt recognized his ambivalence toward Mekall. Why else would Obi-Wan continue to shield so heavily if he did not feel he had to protect Mekall?

Had the two of them encountered some local trouble in their flight from Larral? Why did Qui-Gon sense this taint of darkness? How to uncover the truth without causing both Mekall and Obi-Wan to feel persecuted? Qui-Gon's schedule for the day was full. As troubled as he was about Obi-Wan and Mekall, other matters demanded his attention. He cut his introspection short. The answers would not be found there anyway. Only Obi-Wan held that key.

Obi-Wan finished working out shortly after Mekall left. He had hoped Mekall would not accompany him at all. He was glad to be rid of him. He was not up to another quarrel. Yesterday had been difficult, but it was last night that had really done him in. Finding himself unable to talk to Qui-Gon, the argument with Mekall and then the nightmare . . .

He had been on Dharuje's ship. This time, he was not in restraints. The monster held him in its . . . arms. His arms. He had flailed against Dharuje ineffectually, howling his rage and terror.

Mekall had been confined across the room in a sort of observation booth. Through its window, Obi-Wan could see him kicking and smashing at the door, trying to knock it down. When that failed, he had tried to break the window, pounding on the transparisteel, his mouth a silent scream of Obi-Wan's name.

Qui-Gon was several paces away, legs apart, hands resting on his utility belt, arms standing away from his sides. The self-assured stance Obi-Wan had seen him in a thousand times: the involved but neutral observer. He did nothing to intercede. On his other side were various members of the councils Obi-Wan had reported to the day before. They were using their datapads and com links to chronicle the scene, making notations, talking amongst themselves, awaiting the outcome.

When he had awakened enough, Obi-Wan had felt as if he owed answers to both Qui-Gon and Mekall. He had lashed out at Mekall because he - he liked to think he would never have said such things to his master, but shutting him out was quite possibly worse.

Qui-Gon had looked so . . .

Scared. Mekall had said he looked scared. Obi-Wan did not agree. He knew what Qui-Gon looked like scared. He had seen Qui-Gon up and down, defending and advancing, victorious and beaten bloody. What he had witnessed last night he had rarely seen before. Qui-Gon had looked awkward.

Obi-Wan showered and changed into his regulation clothes, attempting to shed the shadows of the night which had followed him into his day. He went to the gardens, ending up in the Jade Grove, a favorite retreat of his in the past. The foliage was more leaves than flowers, its prism of green a cool and welcoming oasis.

Locating an out of the way spot, Obi-Wan settled down to meditate, concentrating on his reaction to being back. He had longed to be reunited with his master, convinced that he would be able to open up to Qui-Gon, to unburden himself and begin to heal. He had been counting on Qui-Gon's wisdom and serenity for guidance. Instead he had been unable to tell him the truth and had made a fool of himself, fleeing his questions like a frightened child.

Mekall was having better luck dialoguing with Qui-Gon than Obi-Wan was, not that that was saying much. Last night, after he had fought with Mekall, Qui-Gon and Mekall had sat, heads together like coconspirators, eyes burning a hole in his back.

Obi-Wan had refused to give either one the satisfaction of looking at him. Because it was a battle, was it not, between the two of them? Each jockeying for his place in Obi-Wan's life; both feeling, in their heart of hearts, there was no room for the other. To the victor goes the padawan? Not at the present time. When he was with Qui-Gon he felt guilty about Mekall. When he was with Mekall, Qui-Gon loomed in his mind like a beacon of . . .

Remorse and shame, it occurred to Obi-Wan. Each interaction with Qui-Gon was like a new abrasion of already raw flesh. Any scenario Obi-Wan could envisage ended in despair, or worse.

Finding meditation fruitless, Obi-Wan settled for keeping his internal disorder to himself. He added another layer to the intense shielding between himself and Qui-Gon and erected a barrier between himself and Mekall. All but unaware that he had wrapped his robe tightly closed against a cold chill which coursed through him, Obi-Wan left the Temple with no thought of how he would get back in.

Wending his way into the city streets, Obi-Wan walked for hours, using the ambient sights and sounds to free himself from thought and alleviate a developing headache. He lost track of time and had to rush back to the Temple for a meeting with the Diplomatic Sub-Council. His lateness was compounded by forgetfulness. The security officer on duty at the gate was not from the Coruscant Temple and would not let Obi-Wan enter. Obi-Wan was chagrined when someone from the DSC was called to the gate to verify his identity. Knight o'M Dah did not look too happy about it either.

Qui-Gon's morning sped by: a meeting with a Senate liaison, a class he was assisting with teaching and a counseling session with two young Knights who were soon to be life bonded. Their light left a warm glow of the wisdom of the Force within him. That was the manner in which such things were supposed to occur.

The majority of his afternoon was spent with the Missions Oversight Committee. They had been satisfied with Obi-Wan's appearance before them the previous day and, after consulting with the healers, had seen fit to return him to active duty, modified status. None of which had he learned during his abbreviated conversation with his padawan the night before.

Choosing to keep his own counsel regarding Obi-Wan's readiness - he was well aware of how convincing Obi-Wan could be - Qui-Gon accepted the assignment. It was one he felt his padawan could handle, even given current circumstances. It might indeed be best to get Obi-Wan's mind off his own situation and back to his duty.

Having monitored the Master-Apprentice bond all day, Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan remained tightly shielded. In fact, he was not sure his padawan had not further augmented his shields. Qui-Gon contemplated whether Mekall might be shielding Obi-Wan in some way as well. He would not have put it past him to intentionally create additional impediments between himself and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan returned to the rooms pale and stiff-backed, more tense than Mekall had ever seen him. The Diplomatic Sub-Council had reinterrogated him about the missing weeks. He had to again recount all his experiences on the mission, before, during and after his abduction. Then he had been called upon to participate in a conference call with higher-ups of the new coalition government on Kiradian who wanted proof he was alive and well. He hung up his robe while relating these three sentences about his afternoon. Then he sat down on the couch.

Typical, Mekall thought. Wring him out and then make him take part in that farce to show he was fine when they had done everything in their power to ensure he was not. He waited for Obi-Wan to voice some opinion about what had been done to him. Obi-Wan only began idly straightening items on the tabletop.

"Do you want to talk?" Mekall asked. He could not tell. The bond had been unnaturally silent all day. Was Obi-Wan shielding from even him now?

"If I wanted to talk, I'd be talking," Obi-Wan answered.

"Are you -" Mekall attempted to find out how Obi-Wan was feeling.

"Don't ask." Obi-Wan was having none of it.

"So -"

"No."

"Then -" Mekall tried once more.

"I'd rather not," Obi-Wan batted him down.

"Do you -"

"No, I don't."

"O -"

"What?" Obi-Wan snapped.

"You're . . ." Mekall nodded at Obi-Wan's nervous tidying. Obi-Wan looked at his hands, stilled the traitors, got up and went into his room. Mekall followed him.

Obi-Wan shook his head, his breath catching jaggedly in his throat. Why can't he leave it be? he wondered.

"What did you have in mind, Mekall?" he inquired, after he had composed himself enough to speak.

"We're in the bedroom," Mekall replied, "why don't you use the bed."

"Wouldn't work," Obi-Wan said. "I couldn't sleep if my life depended on it."

"Indulge me and lie down," Mekall requested.

Obi-Wan sighed loudly but did as he was told. Mekall nightsided the blinds and adjusted the room lights. He had used some of the time Obi-Wan had been away to catch up on his sleep. He had then gone through Obi-Wan's things rather shamelessly, hatching the outline of a plot. Mekall took out candles and some oil he had discovered. He put the oil on its warmer, lit the candles and placed them here and there around the room.

Obi-Wan could not be bothered watching what Mekall was up to. He closed his eyes, in no frame of mind to be romanced or cajoled or anything else Mekall might be planning which required the candles and warmed oil he smelled.

"You really like to burn things, don't you?" Obi-Wan queried.

"Only the lucky things," Mekall answered.

"You couldn't be trying to seduce me."

"As if I'd have to try," Mekall said, climbing onto the bed. He undid Obi-Wan's belt and sash, opened his tunics.

"Mekall -" Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

"Not another word." Mekall removed the lot and dropped everything on the floor.

"But -" Obi-Wan began again.

Mekall's eyes glittered with humor. "You had your chance to talk, Jedi. We're going to do this my way."

Fine, Obi-Wan thought, you're welcome to try. Mekall took off Obi-Wan's boots and then did away with his trousers and underclothes, amused by Obi-Wan's lack of participation. He did enjoy a challenge. He drew him down until he was lying flat and then straddled his waist.

Taking the vial of oil from the night stand, Mekall began to work it into the knots that were the padawan's shoulders. Obi-Wan emitted a groan of protest, but did nothing to stop him. Mekall kneaded his fingers deep into the rigid muscles. Next, he rolled Obi-Wan onto his stomach to massage his upper back, then his lower back, working in long penetrating strokes. Obi-Wan remained resistant at first, but he was not up to much of a fight. He relaxed despite himself, unwilling to let down but unable to withstand the potent combination of Mekall's affection and good technique.

Feeling Obi-Wan relent and unwind beneath him, Mekall worked his way down to his glutes. Always a pleasure, Mekall acknowledged, a grin sneaking up one side of his face. Obi-Wan exhaled deeply. Mekall thought he was going to speak. It turned out he was falling asleep.

Mekall continued the massage further up Obi-Wan's back, not enamored of the idea of fondling him in his sleep but needing flesh to flesh contact if he could get nothing else. It fascinated him how much security he derived simply from being with or near Obi-Wan.

Even when things were so wrong.

They were bad and going to get worse. Nothing and no-one was getting what they needed. As Jinn had predicted, Mekall was feeling the effects of Obi-Wan's withdrawal into himself. Obi-Wan had had two nights to tell his master what had befallen him. He was going to run out of ways to hide. And it would not be long before Jinn stopped putting up with Obi-Wan's half-truths and avoidance.

It was only a matter of time until something had to give. All Mekall knew for sure was it was not going to be him.

While the bond had not been initiated voluntarily, Mekall had consciously made the decision to stay with Obi-Wan and play out this hand. He would be there for Obi-Wan, if Obi-Wan would let him. However he had given up about as much ground as he intended to. He had to watch out for himself. It was not purely self-preservation. His morning meditation had indicated serious consequences for both of them lay along any other road. Mekall could ill afford weakness in any circumstance; here it was out of the question. If I could just get Obi-Wan to talk, it would be a step in the right direction.

He had not thought Obi-Wan could get any more shut down than he had become in the last days of their trip. The time here had proved just how wrong he could be.

Damned Jedi self-possession.

Maybe tonight, if Jinn stays wherever he is. We can eat, have a few drinks . . .

He would offer to meditate with him. Mekall had not seen Obi-Wan do so in days. Not since before they had landed. Not unless those Forceforsaken showers counted.

Maybe the bond itself could provide a safe haven from the storms of the Temple which seemed to be buffeting Obi-Wan as badly as they were Mekall. More so, as Obi-Wan had thought to find peace here and had thus far experienced only greater isolation.

Meditate together, Mekall smiled wryly. The manner in which the Force was having its way with him was intriguing. It seemed to have changed within him, to have become something quite different from what it had been for a long, long time.

Obi-Wan bolted upright like a Dasan hare when he heard Qui-Gon's voice. He checked the bedside chrono. It was early evening. He felt as if he had been asleep for days. Too deep. What might have slipped through his shields? Where had Qui-Gon been all this time and what information had he been able to gather over the course of the day?

Any benefits of the massage and nap were gone. Anxiety coiled inside Obi-Wan, exaggerating his already considerable foreboding of the next encounter with his master.

Obi-Wan dressed and sought Mekall. He and Qui-Gon were sitting in the common room. Mekall was on the couch. Qui-Gon was at his desk. His master was reading from a durasheet, one among many in a folder laid out in front of him. He looked up when Obi-Wan entered.

"Good evening, Padawan," Qui-Gon greeted him.

"Master."

"I thought we might take nightmeal in the dining hall," Qui-Gon suggested.

"I'd prefer not to," Obi-Wan demurred, "if that's all right."

"As you wish," Qui-Gon responded. "There are one or two subjects we need to go over, Obi-Wan, if you have the time."

"I'll get the meal," Mekall offered.

He had given up on his plans for the evening when Qui-Gon had come in. It might pay to let Obi-Wan's master have another go at him. Maybe he knew how to push some button Mekall did not even know was there. After all, he was the one who had installed most of them.

Mekall headed for the kitchen.

"I'll help," Obi-Wan said, practically tripping over himself in his rush to leave the room.

(continued in part 11)