Archive of Our Own

I.

When Obi-Wan was 23 they spent a month on Acaste, a moon that circled in drunken ellipse around the city planet of Hartha. The moon was sacred to the Harthans, a remnant from a long ago time when their people had been nomadic and young, and so they'd never built on it; the only human intrusion on the landscape was a meeting place, and a handful of old watchtowers that stood sentry over vast ice plains.

Inexplicably, Obi-Wan had loved it. In the general way he hated cold climates, and tedious diplomacy, and stupidity, too, and all three of these were to be found on the mission to Acaste. But then sunset would fall and Qui-Gon would ring the ceremonial bell to conclude the negotiations for the day, and the Harthan representatives returned home to their planet, leaving the moon empty until morning.

Later Obi-Wan remembered perfectly how he and Qui-Gon trekked the many stairs to the top of the watchtower, bathed in the burning reds and oranges of the setting sun. At the top of the stairs had stood an enclosed room that was plain and small and served as their quarters. A blanket each and a store of rations and the sound of each others' voices: that was all they had. In the mornings Obi-Wan would rise early and go out onto the walkway and look out over the white plains; miles and miles of space and quiet, crisp air. He would breathe deep and feel himself grow cold and clear like the ice.

'How am I going to explain a frozen padawan to the council?' Qui-Gon had murmured behind him one morning, his voice all soft warmth and fondness. 'You're supposed to be keeping me out of trouble.'

'Jedi cannot work miracles, Master,' Obi-Wan had replied, turning to look at Qui-Gon leaning in the doorway, at the white morning light falling on his face. 'Even one as talented as I.'

Qui-Gon had looked at him a moment, amused and rumpled and something else, something that he kept carefully folded away beneath the surface. 'Come and eat, revered master,' he'd said, sketching a little bow. 'Before your head swells so much it cannot fit through the door.'

It was nothing. They ate and put on their cloaks and travelled down to the meeting place in companionable silence, and in another week they watched the Harthans sign a new treaty and they were on their way. But it stayed in Obi-Wan's mind, that day, that look. That sense of something beneath the surface that Qui-Gon held back from him.

*

Some time after he was knighted Obi-Wan found himself dreaming of Acaste. It was unexpected, but he found those four weeks meandering through his mind as he travelled in cargo ships, and slipping through his defenses while he slept in the Temple. The ice plains and the setting sun and the ringing bell: he wasn't sure what troubled him about it, or why it came to mind so often. It had been a brief mission, a quiet one, and he'd had his share of icy tundras and open air since then.

Do you remember that mission with the Harthans? he wanted to say to Qui-Gon. But Qui-Gon had a new padawan to train. Obi-Wan hadn't seen him in a long time.

*

On Aris-9 the negotiations failed. Obi-Wan tried everything he could think of, short of force-suggesting the ministers into behaving themselves, but it was not enough. Armies and civilians broke across the city in a tide of angry bodies and fire and blasters, and it all washed over him as though he were seaweed and sand.

It took him four days to get the ministers to safety, and another two to reach a safe comm station in the underlevels to send a message to the council. By then he was in poor shape. He had bled badly from the initial fight, and now he fought to stand upright to deliver his message.

'Not my most particular favourite,' he said slowly to the Togruta who took his credit chip. He could feel himself swaying, and the dried blood on his back itched. 'In fact, if I had to rank them, I would place this mission extremely low. Above Naboo. Certainly below Trelis Three.' He took a slow breath against the pain in his head. 'They celebrate a great deal on Trelis Three. I found it rather impractical, to be honest.'

'Crazy Jedi,' the Togruta muttered.

He spent the night on a high rooftop, hidden from looters and soldiers alike, with nothing but the stars above him.

This was easier with two, he thought. The horizon glowed where a host of buildings still burned. Much of the city was damaged or blockaded, and the night was punctured by gunfire and screams. His leg was broken. He hadn't eaten in days. And far worse, the Force seemed a distant, fading thing.

He felt cold and thought stupidly of freezing mornings on a watchtower.

'Not so very talented,' he said to the sky wheeling slowly overhead.

By the time Depa Bilaba found him making his way to the blockaded spaceport, he had decided Aris-9 ranked only just above Naboo as both an awful mission, and an awful failure on his part.

*

He woke to the sound of crunching. The healing wing, his mind told him as he forced his eyelids open and squinted against the sudden light. He was in the Temple, in bed, and from his bedside came the sound of crunching.

'I do hope you will leave me at least one,' Obi-Wan said. His voice was rough and weak, and his head felt heavy as he turned to look.

'At least,' Qui-Gon agreed, chewing neatly on a biscuit. 'How do you feel?'

Obi-Wan thought about that for a moment. The physical pain that had been his steady companion had finally eased away. But the knowledge of his failure had not. That night on the rooftop he had wondered if Qui-Gon had been right, to put him forward for the Trials before Naboo. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he thought perhaps Qui-Gon had been more keen to take on a new padawan than to finish up with the old.

It had been a long night. Sometimes as he drifted he thought he felt the savage cold of ice, and remembered the blood-red light that signalled the end of the day on Acaste.

'I feel as though I missed something,' he said aloud.

'The revolution?' Qui-Gon replied mildly, picking up another biscuit from a tray beside Obi-Wan's bed.

Obi-Wan sighed the long-suffering sigh of his padawan years.

The corners of Qui-Gon's mouth quirked up and then settled again. 'You did well in difficult circumstances, Obi-Wan,' Qui-Gon said.

'No,' Obi-wan said. 'I don't think I did. Where is your — Anakin?'

'Waiting for me at the hanger. We are attending the coronation of the new Sovereign on —'

'Trelis Three,' Obi-Wan finished. 'I see.' He supposed it was appropriate: Qui-Gon had much to celebrate. It was not so long ago that he had almost died.

Obi-Wan revised Trelis Three higher in his mental list. It was a nice enough planet. The weather was fine and the people hospitable and politically stable. Nothing dreadful had ever happened to Qui-Gon there, apart from the time the Trade Minister broke into his room to profess her undying lust, which had afforded Obi-Wan no end of jokes on the trip home.

He was about to remind his master of that very incident when Qui-Gon stood.

'I'm afraid I cannot stay longer,' he said. 'The transport will not wait.' He paused and his gaze roamed over Obi-Wan's face, his brow furrowed. 'Master Yoda told me of the situation on Aris-9 after they received your message. I'm glad I was able to see you before I left.'

'Yes,' said Obi-Wan, feeling abruptly wrong-footed. 'I'm – it has been quite some time, Master.'

Qui-Gon nodded, and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his cloak. 'Perhaps we could meet the next time we are both on Coruscant. I would enjoy hearing about your journeys of these past months.' He hesitated. 'It has been a busy time, for both of us. Rest well, Obi-Wan.'

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon left the room. The sight was so familiar that Obi-Wan's throat ached. Qui-Gon looked tall and strong and sure. In the Force he was an even more powerful presence; he burned with it; the light of the room seemed to cling to him as he walked. It touched the fall of his brown cloak, and in between the folds the shadows looked almost black.

Obi-Wan remembered being thirteen years old and looking on that sight, Qui-Gon Jinn walking away from him, with shame and grief. He closed his eyes. He was not thirteen anymore.

He did not need a master to tell him he was worthy.

*

After Aris-9 there was a period of time in the Temple, where he recovered his fitness and tried to recover his sense of confidence. He wished he could talk to Qui-Gon again, about what went wrong on Aris-9, but he thought perhaps that was the desire of a padawan, not a knight. He was not given the opportunity in any case; chatter in the Temple kept him informed as Qui-Gon and Anakin were sent from Trelis to Mandalore and then to Corellia. Obi-Wan began to wonder if Coruscant would be their next stop when suddenly there was a mission to Hoth. For him.

'Amused, you are, Knight Kenobi?' Yoda asked as Obi-Wan stood before the Council.

'No, Master Yoda. It is just that I have been...meditating on remote landscapes lately. Hoth would seem to be as remote as one could wish for.'

'Do you wish for a remote posting?' Windu asked with a frown.

'I am pleased to go where the Council sees fit to send me.'

'Too much time have you spent on Coruscant,' Yoda grumbled. 'Politician you have become. Dangerous this mission may be, Obi-Wan. Not to be treated lightly, reports of Sith are, hm?'

'I understand, Master Yoda. I will do my best to uncover the truth of this report.'

'This is a reconnaissance mission,' Windu cautioned. 'If there is a Sith Lord working in the system we need to know; the intelligence you provide will be more important than engaging with the Sith directly. After Naboo we must be careful.'

Obi-Wan bowed low. 'I understand. Thank you, Masters.'

He packed for cold weather: extra rations, layers of clothes, his new cloak, and paused at the door as he was about to leave.

'Send message,' he said to the comm unit. 'To Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon... I've been granted another mission and I'm leaving today. I had heard you were nearby but it looks as though we may miss one another this time.' He squeezed his eyes shut. This was ridiculous. Pathetic, even. 'I hope we might cross paths soon. May the Force be with you, Master. End message.'

The galaxy was not kind to Jedi. It didn't hurt to say goodbye.

*

His scans from orbit found no useful energy signatures on Hoth, although there were several structures low on the southeastern side that appeared on his radar. From up there in the clean darkness of space, the planet seemed almost beautiful. Pale blue, sparse and untainted; almost the entire globe was covered in a permanent blanket of snow. It filled Obi-Wan's vision as he piloted the ship down to the surface.

Stepping out of his small starjumper into what passed for midday on Hoth gave Obi-Wan a rather different view. The cold shocked the breath from his lungs. A sharp wind hurtled past him, tearing at his hood and stinging his face, and in every direction the visibility was low. Out there in the whiteness he could sense the raw animal energies of various lifeforms as they went about their day: hunger, sleep, hunt, hunger, hunger. Most of the creatures were small; a few, further away, were much larger. He wrapped a stole over his mouth and nose and steered a path away from them all, trudging through powdery snow and keeping his senses open to the Force, sensitive to any vibrations. If there were Sith here... well, he had not sensed them on Naboo, so it seemed unlikely he would know about it unless they revealed themselves. But he was not afraid. It was much easier to fight when you were not trying to be careful. When you were not trying to keep people alive.

He spent long hours hiking through the snow and examining the buildings he had spotted from orbit, but ultimately his search proved fruitless.

'No, Master, I could find no evidence of anyone having been here recently, beyond the native wildlife. There are a set of structures that are currently empty – perhaps used by smugglers. There is a hangar bay large enough to hold a small fleet of ships. No current signs of life.'

The transmission wavered and crackled. Outside the starjumper a blizzard was in full swing; Obi-Wan had to shout so Master Gallia could hear him over the din.

'...report to... trade...it...' zzpt! The transmission cut out entirely, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the dim light of the cockpit.

'Well, that was helpful.' He sat back in his chair and considered. He couldn't take off in this weather. And now that he had made his report, he could feel how his long search had left him aching and tired. He wrapped his cloak around himself.

'Computer, set wake-alert, 3 hours. Power down the lights.'

The noise beyond the hull kept him awake for a time. It was a dull howl, like the hunger he had sensed earlier had been given voice and now pounded against the walls of his ship, calling him out to oblivion. He settled into a meditative state, letting the storm sink into the back of his awareness, and allowed his thoughts to drift. Would Qui-Gon have heard his message by now? Or would he be too busy training Anakin to have checked his comm?

He thought of Anakin. Eight years old and yet the boy had a prodigious skill with the Force. An inherent understanding. Obi-Wan felt with a sudden sense of clarity that Anakin was everything Obi-Wan had once thought himself to be: talented, fortunate, important. Chosen. Anakin was chosen in a way Obi-Wan had striven to be, over and over, for the past thirteen years.

His feelings towards the boy were not kind.

When meditating on the Code did not redirect his thoughts in a more proper direction, he turned to other things, stupid things that amused him and kept him from focusing on pain. His list. Missions and planets from best to worst. Hoth, with its howling blizzard and man-eating lifeforms, that would rate below Endor. Above Aris-9 without doubt. Below Bengat? He thought about the ocean there, and outside the buffeting noise slowly became the sea, and his ship carried him over waves deep blue and wild.

The storm passed in 3-hour increments as Obi-Wan woke, checked his readouts, and dipped back into sleep. By the next morning it had cleared completely, though the starjumper had been almost completely snowed in. He fired the engines in gentle pulses to clear some of the icy drift from the ship and managed to ease the back hatch open.

Sunlight. A wide blue sky overhead, bright with sun that Obi-Wan felt on the skin of his cheeks. He breathed deeply of the cold, fresh air.

He lifted off within the hour and scanned the planet again from a low orbit. There was nothing changed. He widened the area of the scan, reaching out deep into the Hoth system, searching for vessels, energy sources, but all seemed quiet. If any Sith had been here they were not now — and, it occurred to Obi-Wan, Hoth made an unlikely base for such creatures anyway. It was pointless for the kind of work the Sith might do, corrupting and poisoning and undermining; sowing fear and violence. For that you needed people and societies and governments. Jedi Orders, even. Finding a Sith on Naboo was rather unlikely, Obi-Wan realised now. It was a relatively unimportant planet, all things considered. Surely Coruscant, the bustling heart of the Republic, would be a much more fertile environment?

He wasn't sure what that meant, but in the six months since he and Qui-Gon had encountered the Sith on Naboo, a great many Jedi had been sent out across the galaxy chasing sightings of force-wielders carrying red blades.

The Council were wise, Obi-Wan reminded himself. They saw things he could not. They must know the Jedi were chasing ghosts.

From a higher orbit he contacted the Council again and this time Master Gallia came through perfectly clear.

'If you have finished on Hoth, Knight Kenobi, you are well-placed to assist with the preparations for the upcoming trade summit here on Coruscant. A delegation from the Trade Federation is attending and they'll be passing near to the Hoth system in a few days. Chancellor Palpatine is anxious that they arrive here safely. I'm sending you through the co-ordinates of their convoy so you can rendezvous with them and escort them in.'

'Yes, Master Gallia. And are the other attendees to the summit also gaining a Jedi escort?'

Gallia shared a look with him that said she knew his thoughts. 'No,' she said evenly. 'The Chancellor believes we must show the Trade Federation every courtesy.'

'I see,' said Obi-Wan. 'I will certainly be courteous. Although I do hope they will not try to kill me this time.'

Gallia almost smiled. 'I hope so as well, Knight Kenobi. Gallia out.'

The Trade Federation were vile, as far as Obi-Wan was concerned. He would happily escort them into an erupting volcano. But he keyed in the co-ordinates of the convoy with a smile. He was going back to Coruscant. Back to the Temple. And perhaps Qui-Gon would be there and they could finally — well. Obi-Wan didn't know. But it loosened something around his heart to see his former master these days.

Obi-Wan had been knighted directly after the battle with the Sith. Qui-Gon hung suspended in a bacta tank while Obi-Wan had shorn off his own padawan braid and the Council had sent him out on his first mission. With the Sith returned there was not a moment to lose, they said. Obi-Wan asked for updates on Qui-Gon's condition but he did not see him again for a month.

A month after Naboo, at the end of a mission, the day fading from the high Temple windows. On the way from the hangar bay to his quarters he passed the west training salle, and there in the purpling evening light Obi-Wan saw him: Qui-Gon, standing tall and whole, showing Anakin the basic stance of First Form.

They had not noticed Obi-Wan watching from the door. He should have gone in, he should have stepped through the door and gone to his master and clutched his hand, thank the gods, Master, you're alright, it's so good to see you. That's what he should have done.

*

'Federation transport, this is Knight Kenobi of the Jedi Order, come in.'

'This is the Trade Federation transport X3-7221. State your business, Jedi.'

'I offer your convoy safe escort to Coruscant,' Obi-Wan replied, adjusting the volume on his comm. 'As requested by Chancellor Palpatine.'

The open channel hummed with faint white noise for a moment.

'Would you like me to dock and come aboard?' Obi-Wan prompted.

'Negative, Jedi. The Trade Federation accepts your escort. Please stay in formation with the convoy.' The channel was closed.

'Charming,' Obi-Wan said as he switched off the comm. Now he would have to spend the long journey back to Coruscant in his small starjumper, which had grunt but not much in the way of comfort.

He sent word to the Council that he had made his rendezvous and set a course to sit out on the left wing of the convoy. Then he ran a systems check and fiddled with the engine gauges until they were operating at peak performance. Then he cleaned the injectors. Realigned the exhaust manifold. Polished his boots. Wrote a report on Hoth. Thought about the possibilities of growing a beard. Ate some rations, meditated, paced the small cockpit, and sighed. He was still 50, 000 light years from home.

This was better with two, he thought, as he watched the stars stream by the cockpit window.

*

Coruscant gleamed in the morning light as he docked at the Temple. He had rarely been more pleased to see it as he shouldered his pack and walked the long path to his quarters.

Inside the door he dropped his pack and cloak, and tapped the comm to life as he passed by.

One message. He smiled to himself as he heard Qui-Gon's voice.

'Obi-Wan,' his master said, 'I'm told the Council expect you back today. I will be at the trade summit in the Senate district all day and into the evening. Perhaps tomorrow we might arrange a time to meet. I'd appreciate your expertise in showing Anakin the Twin Suns technique — he has been asking for a demonstration. I will contact you in the morning.'

Obi-Wan gazed at the darkened comm screen for some moments. Training Anakin hadn't been what he'd had in mind. He thought they could eat a meal together, or spar, or simply walk the colonnades and talk as they once did — but this is life now, he reminded himself. Qui-Gon had a responsibility to another, a new apprentice to spend time with. Those days of being out in the galaxy alone, just he and Qui-Gon, those days were gone.

Perhaps that's why he found himself thinking of Acaste so often, for the memory of it lingered still. In his mind he held a picture of it: a watchtower in the midst of vast white plains, a world made of he and Qui-Gon and the changing sun. The picture would be creased with the loving attention he bestowed upon it, if it were a real thing.

Acaste was 3 years ago now. He had been a knight for six months. And Qui-Gon had a new padawan. Everything was as it should be, and yet the future seemed strange and unknowable.

*

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was Obi-Wan's favourite place to meditate. The falling waters murmured in the back of his mind and the air was cool and sweet. He found a quiet place and sat down on the floor, breathing slow and deep and opening his senses to the myriad presences in the Force, to all the beings that lived and worked in the Temple. They moved across his consciousness, rising and falling in his attention like soft waves upon a shore.

Soon he left them behind and sank further, slowly immersing himself in the deeper currents of the Force. Qui-Gon had taught him how to be intimate with the Living Force, to live always in the moment, but Obi-Wan's strength lay in seeking out the deeper layers, the larger shifts that encompassed past, present and future. This was the water deep below the waves, from which all things grew.

Show me what will be.

When he surfaced, some unknown time later, Obi-Wan found a class of initiates goggling at him.

'Ah. Hello, younglings,' he said, trying to rise and getting a foot caught in his cloak. One of the initiates giggled.

'Master Obi-Wan!' a familiar voice cried.

'Anakin! Hello there. I thought you would be with Master Qui-Gon.'

'No, he's doing boring senate stuff all day. I do lots of stuff with the initiates when we're on Coruscant.'

'That sounds very wise. I would prefer to do classes over boring senate stuff as well.'

'Did you have a good mission? Master Qui-Gon says you went to Hoth and it's really cold there.'

'Freezing. Literally, in fact. I got stuck in a blizzard and had to fire the engines to melt my way out.'

Anakin's eyes shone. 'I hope I get stuck in a blizzard one day,' he said fervently.

'It's not unlikely,' Obi-Wan agreed.

'Greetings, Knight Kenobi.' Master Koth swept up to where Anakin and the younglings were gathered around Obi-Wan like a crop of mushrooms. 'We are looking for a good spot to practice meditation today.'

'Of course. Well, this spot here is quite good. I can recommend it thoroughly, and as I am about to vacate it, it is all yours.' He smiled at the initiates, most of whom stared back at him unnervingly.

'Thank you, Knight Kenobi. Come, younglings!'

'Goodbye. Goodbye, Anakin. I believe I shall see you at your next training session with Master Qui-Gon.'

'Yes!' Anakin crowed. 'Bye Master Obi-Wan!'

Obi-Wan bowed to the younglings and did his best to appear dignified as he left the room.

*

'Mysterious, the Force can be, Obi-Wan.'

Now there was an understatement. 'Yes, Master Yoda.'

'See a true vision you did?'

'I don't know, Master. As I described, it was very unclear. I sensed a great suffering. And,' Obi-Wan tried to articulate the scattered flashes the Force had shown him, 'there was a feeling of something hidden.'

'Much suffering there is in the galaxy,' Yoda said quietly. 'Now returned the Sith have. More uncertain the future has become.'

'Yes, though I am not sure what part they played in my vision, if any.'

'Meditate on this you will. Inside yourself you must seek for wisdom.'

'Yes, Master. Thank you for your counsel.'

'And sleep you must, Obi-Wan. Busy we have kept you, yes?'

'Yes, Master.' Obi-Wan paused. 'I saw Anakin today,' he said. 'He does not have the emotional training of the other younglings, but he seemed quite well.'

Yoda nodded. 'Trained he must be, Obi-Wan. Or vulnerable to the Dark Side he will become.'

Obi-Wan looked at him in surprise. 'The Dark Side?'

'Always two Sith there are. A master and an apprentice. Killed one, you did.'

That was troubling. 'You believe he could be a target for the Sith? He is strong in the Force, I know —'

'Stronger than any I have seen,' Yoda said. 'Yes. Qui-Gon will be good for him, I think. A kind Jedi, Qui-Gon is. Compassionate. Patient.'

Obi-Wan nodded against a sudden flood of emotion. 'Yes.'

Yoda looked at him narrowly. 'Meditate on your vision, you must, Obi-Wan. Consider your vision I will also.'

Obi-Wan bowed. 'Yes, Master. Thank you.'

The vision and Master Yoda's words rattled him. He spent the evening in the archives reading about the Sith, though much of the Jedi's records were ancient. The Sith had been thought long destroyed, but since Naboo it was clear they had merely been hidden: practicing in secret, passing on their knowledge and their hatred from one to another. And now Master Yoda worried for Anakin.

Obi-Wan returned to his quarters once night had fallen. He ate and then sat near the wall that held a small window onto the internal gardens on the level below. If he concentrated he could feel the small, growing energies of the plants pushing up through the dark soil. He did not have Qui-Gon's affinity for the Living Force, but as with the fountains, being near some small part of nature often helped him to find his centre.

He could feel the song of the Jedi Temple around him. Thousands of Force-sensitives. Machinery. Almost he could hear the lightsabers clashing in the training salles. And in the lower levels he sensed the blurry sleep of children, where one presence stood out slightly brighter than the rest. Anakin, he thought. Vulnerable to the Dark Side.

Though he tried hard to reconnect with his vision it eluded him. It seemed to hover at the edges of his awareness as though he could not look at it directly, a ghost or a burning sun, distant and unspeaking. What good was seeing the future, he wondered, if all it did was make him afraid?

*

True to his word, Qui-Gon had left a message on his comm when Obi-Wan awoke.

'Obi-Wan,' he said, 'Anakin and I will be in the courtyard this morning. Come if you can.'

It was still early. The air was warming in the sun and the courtyard held only a few padawans training with their masters, including Qui-Gon and Anakin at the far end. Obi-Wan made his way over, gazing at the two of them as they moved slowly through a kata. The sight of Qui-Gon there in that beautiful place was a visceral pleasure.

It was only natural that he should find such happiness in seeing his master now, alive and well, in the place where they had spent so many hours together. That was the way of it, Obi-Wan supposed: you travelled with your master, learned from them, fought beside them in battle, and it forged a bond, a respect and love that did not end with the apprenticeship.

He did not expect that Qui-Gon felt the same way, but he hoped Qui-Gon was proud of him, at least. He hoped he was — his stomach dropped unexpectedly — a job well done.

As he approached, Qui-Gon turned and his face brightened; he walked towards Obi-Wan with one hand resting lazily on his belt.

'Obi-Wan. You frown as though I have given you gardening duty,' he said.

Obi-Wan folded his arms serenely. 'I am merely acting according to my station. As a new knight it is my job to be painfully serious at all times. I am sure Master Yoda has said so on many occasions.'

'That does sound like him,' Qui-Gon said gravely. Then his mouth softened into a smile and he reached out a hand to Obi-Wan's shoulder. 'It is good to see you, Obi-Wan.'

'You as well, Master,' Obi-Wan said softly. 'How goes the training?'

'He learns quickly. The Force is strong with him, Obi-Wan. We were right to bring him here.'

Obi-Wan ignored the suggestion that he had any say in the matter. 'To hone his talents or to protect him?'

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan in mild surprise. 'You really have been talking to Yoda.'

'Only in passing.'

Qui-Gon watched Anakin practicing for a moment. 'I do not fear for him.'

'I'm glad to hear it, Master.' Obi-Wan judged it best to move on from that topic. 'Did you still wish to demonstrate the Twin Suns for him?'

'Another time, I think. I don't want him getting distracted now. Come, tell me about your last mission. You went to Hoth?'

'I had an exciting tour of some abandoned hangars and got snowed in. Qui-Gon, do these endless reports of Sith trouble you?'

Qui-Gon turned his intense focus to Obi-Wan. 'You think they are a distraction?'

'In more ways than one. We are being kept very busy haring off on pointless missions and arguing over shadows — the Sith have managed to hide from us for many years. They are not this careless.'

'You think then that they are close to us,' Qui-Gon guessed. They walked slowly along the courtyard, considering. 'When we encountered the Sith Lord on Tatooine and Naboo I sensed his darkness, the twisted nature of the Force within him. If there were another Sith here we would all sense the same.'

'Unless he were very powerful, adept at hiding. And we do not all have your gifts, Master.'

Qui-Gon smiled. 'Perhaps you would, if you opened yourself to the Living Force a little more.'

'Oh, is that something I should have been doing?'

'Appalling,' Qui-Gon murmured, fondness all through his voice, and more. Obi-Wan could see it but not name it, a glimpse of something Qui-Gon kept folded away, out of Obi-Wan's sight. He had been here before.

Something shook within him that he did not understand. 'I. That is. What have you been teaching Anakin?'

'First form. We are just beginning. He has missed out on years of education, so I have asked Master Yoda that we spend more time on Coruscant until he has a proper grounding. He takes classes with the Initiates.'

'Yes,' said Obi-Wan, thoroughly distracted. 'That's good.' He did his best to listen as Qui-Gon enumerated Anakin's training progress, as they strolled around the courtyard in the hazy morning light.

When they completed their circuit Obi-Wan showed Anakin a different kata, and they practiced together as the sun rose higher in the sky.

'Thank you, Obi-Wan; that was an excellent lesson,' Qui-Gon said when at last they parted inside the Temple.

'Well I have to ensure the boy receives some proper instruction,' said Obi-Wan.

'How fortunate we are to have you,' Qui-Gon said dryly. He touched Obi-Wan's shoulder briefly. 'I must go.'

Obi-Wan nodded. He didn't particularly trust himself to speak, suddenly afraid he would blurt out something inappropriate.

Stay, was what he wanted to say. Please stay.

*

The next two days were taken up with the trade summit. On the first day Obi-Wan spent twelve hours listening to bureaucrats haggling over tariffs. The only enjoyable part came when he coolly eyeballed the Trade Federation representatives and saw them stiffen in fear. It did not hurt to intimidate those who set themselves against the Jedi, as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, and they did try to kill him once, which he considered rather impolite.

On the second day he saw Qui-Gon passing by in the grand foyer.

'You've survived, I see,' Qui-Gon said, drawing close and speaking quietly.

Obi-Wan felt a rush of pleasure at this demonstration of intimacy. Here amongst the sea of bureaucrats and politicians they were set apart by their difference; they belonged together as Jedi, and no one else lived in quite the same world as they did.

'We've just concluded the agreement to have an agreement about the Outer Rim trade route revision. I myself have settled on an agreement to never again complain about Yaddle's lectures on Galactic Economies.'

Qui-Gon smiled. 'Very wise. My session has been arguing over the manufacturing of maintenance droids. I have had to call upon all my discipline to remain interested.'

'A quick lightsaber to the throat would wind up these discussions much more quickly,' Obi-Wan agreed.

'They should be having a peace summit,' Qui-Gon said, looking around at the milling, hurrying crowd. 'So much unrest in the galaxy and here they are -- here we are.'

That was familiar. Qui-Gon had railed against them being 'administrative assistants of the Republic' for as long as Obi-Wan had known him.

'At least you're mediating the negotiations. I'm just there to witness the agreement — if we ever have one.'

'A waste of your abilities,' Qui-Gon said, pinning him with that intense gaze.

'Yes,' Obi-Wan said mindlessly. Unbidden his own gaze slipped down to Qui-Gon's mouth, that gentle-looking mouth and the neatly-trimmed beard. The thought of Qui-Gon — rebellious, powerful Qui-Gon — getting up that morning and carefully trimming his beard and tying back his hair sent a strange pang through Obi-Wan.

When he looked up again he found Qui-Gon watching him.

'Master,' he said reflexively.

'The bell for the next session will ring soon,' Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan tore his gaze away. He felt rooted to the spot, and he turned awkwardly to orient himself back to the room. He felt sure Qui-Gon was still watching him.

'There is Depa,' Qui-Gon said. 'Excuse me, Obi-Wan.'

Obi-Wan looked over and nodded in greeting to Depa Bilaba as Qui-Gon moved away. Delegates bustled past him as he stood still, and the noise rose as the bell chimed through the cavernous room. He glanced at Qui-Gon and Depa talking together as the last chime faded, and then returned to the trade hall as the second session got underway.

*

That night, in a dream filled with a blood-red sun hanging on the horizon, Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's face in his hands and kissed him.

Obi-Wan was rocked by a surge of desperation; in the dream he clutched at Qui-Gon, his hands hard and greedy. He woke as if carried out of sleep on a wave, and lay in the dark panting.

'Kenobi,' he said breathlessly, 'you idiot.'

*

Day Three of the trade summit was excruciating. He caught himself staring intently into space more than once, while representatives delivered speeches about prosperity and economic freedom and why the Hutts should be trusted to cultivate blah something something. He knew it was important, but it was little more than a distraction when all Obi-Wan wanted to do was understand what had happened to him. Or more precisely, when it had happened, and what the good bloody hell he should do about it.

Because it was clear: he wanted Qui-Gon. He'd woken from his dream to a new understanding of himself and had spent the rest of the night pacing his quarters, too stunned to sleep, too overwhelmed to do anything more useful.

Once, early in his training, he had jumped off the edge of a building and lost control of his descent. For a few terrifying moments he had plummeted freely, and he'd felt like that last night, as though somehow the world had slipped from his grasp.

'Jedi, have you noted the Most Revered Vartil's claims? Most unsuitable,' whispered the delegate to his right.

'Certainly,' Obi-Wan said.

As the bell for the first break rang out he sprang up, and filed out into the grand foyer with everyone else. He soon spotted Qui-Gon speaking with a group of delegates and he hung back, watching their obsequious body language and Qui-Gon's formal manner. He smiled. They could not know they were trying to curry favour with the most stubborn Jedi in the galaxy.

Obi-Wan felt his heart begin to thump as he approached.

'Good morning. Jostling for new manufacturing contracts?' he guessed, casting a glance at the retreating delegates.

'They remain optimistic,' Qui-Gon said dryly. 'How do you fare with the trade routes?'

Obi-Wan clasped his hands together. 'Quite well. I feel sure they will come to a point in another year or so.'

Qui-Gon snorted. 'They are tedious,' he agreed, 'but these sessions can be very useful, Obi-Wan. You can learn a lot about the interests of different groups by listening to their requests — and to what they are not asking for, as well. There may come a time when that information is useful.'

'Are you ever going to strop instructing me?' Obi-Wan teased, and was thrilled to see Qui-Gon appear faintly abashed.

'You must forgive your master his habits. I am onto my fourth apprentice now.'

'You could be on the Council instead,' Obi-Wan said automatically.

'I do not wish it,' Qui-Gon reminded him, as he always did. 'One cannot help what one wants,' he added.

Obi-Wan sensed the weight of that comment but did not know its meaning. 'I think the Hutts would agree with you,' he said lightly. 'They spent the morning trying to convince the Falleen it would be best to turn one of their moons over to them so they could build a new refinery.'

'They bear watching,' Qui-Gon said. 'If Chancellor Palpatine were serious about changing things he would do well to start with the Hutts.'

'Master,' Obi-Wan began. He tucked his hands into his sleeves. Then took them out again. 'Would you. Perhaps we could have dinner this evening, after the last session. I would like to hear more about the manufacturing negotiations.'

'You would,' Qui-Gon said doubtfully.

'Yes. And,' Obi-Wan cast around for something better than an interest in manufacturing. Be honest, he thought. 'I have not shared a meal with anyone for quite some time. I would enjoy your company.'

'That often happens when you do not have an apprentice. I remember being starved for company some nights, particularly after — well, before you took me on as your master.'

An old joke: that Obi-Wan was so insistent they belonged together that it was he who had done the choosing, not Qui-Gon. It was not untrue. After Qui-Gon's last padawan had fallen to the dark side, he had rejected Obi-Wan more than once.

That will never happen to me, Obi-Wan had wanted to tell him back then. Trust me.

And it never had. But he had done something else now, something equally unexpected. And possibly, Obi-Wan realised abruptly, something very unwelcome.

'I've been invited to dine with the Rights of Sentience League tonight,' Qui-Gon was saying. 'Perhaps tomorrow.'

Obi-Wan nodded mutely, trying hard to keep his disappointment from his face, though it sank through him like sadness, a grey winter coldness that leached away the light. He'd forgotten. In all his excitement he'd forgotten the one old lesson that had been tucked carefully away inside him all these years: Qui-Gon would never look at Obi-Wan and see something he wanted.

'Yes,' Obi-Wan said, his voice steady. 'Perhaps tomorrow.'

*

On the fourth day Obi-Wan made conscientious notes on his datapad during the discussions, and stepped out during the breaks only to take some water and use the fresher. It wasn't that he did not want to see Qui-Gon, but he had not come all this way, passed his training and been knighted and accepted into the Order, just to find himself once again a hopeful supplicant at the feet of Qui-Gon Jinn. Thirteen years and he was right back to where he began, only this time what he wanted from Qui-Gon was far more dangerous than an education.

'It had to be him, Kenobi,' he muttered, tapping his keypad furiously. He sat in the empty trade hall while the delegates networked and argued in the foyer. 'The one person — of all the people — because one round of rejection wasn't enough. You had to go for the full suite.'

But an understanding was beginning to grow inside him: that it did have to be Qui-Gon. And it had perhaps been him for a long time. Qui-Gon was woven through his life in ways no one else ever could be; in Obi-Wan's eyes he was the greatest Jedi that had ever lived: true and good and shining with the Force.

And stubborn, he reminded himself harshly, tapping some more keys. And prone to lecturing. And always picking up a menagerie of pathetic life forms so their missions had not ever been straightforward.

And disinterested.

'You're brooding, Obi-Wan.'

He turned in surprise to see Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. 'Master. Yes, I suppose I was. I'm just making some notes on the negotiations. I thought they may be useful for the Archives.'

'A good idea.' There was a beat of silence. 'Something troubles you,' Qui-Gon observed.

Obi-Wan thought of all the things Qui-Gon would never say to him, all the things his master had kept to himself during their years together. Those barriers were still in place. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'I have not yet had time to meditate on the matter.'

'If you like we could discuss it over dinner.'

'Dinner would be fine,' said Obi-Wan, aiming for calm. A simple meal between friends. That was how it was going to be from now on. 'I'll meet you after last session.'

'Good,' Qui-Gon said. 'I'll see you then.'

Obi-Wan kept up his notes for the rest of the day, and as the last session was brought to a close he rose, tucked away his pad, and went out into the foyer.

Qui-Gon joined him a few minutes later. 'Do you think anyone would mind if I pushed the Trade Federation representatives out a window?' he said quietly.

'More likely you'd get a round of applause. Mostly from me. Are they being difficult?'

'Their greed is offensive. But I have had dinner with my old apprentice to look forward to, at least.'

'Young and handsome apprentice, Master.'

Qui-Gon grinned wickedly at him. 'Coruscant Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor.'

Obi-Wan groaned. Years ago he had rescued the editor of the free Coruscant Weekly magazine from a Kithuli gang, and she had plastered his face over the next issue as that week's most eligible bachelor. Qui-Gon had teased him for days.

'I hoped you had forgotten about that.'

'Forgotten? I still have a copy,' Qui-Gon said mildly. 'Where shall we eat?'

'Tano's. No trade delegates.'

Tano's was a quiet diner on the outskirts of the Senate district. There were a handful of patrons inside and no one looked particularly bothered by the Jedi as they entered and took a table.

The lights were soft and dim and the colours of the walls dark. It felt restful after a long day at the summit.

Obi-Wan found himself watching as Qui-Gon paged through the holographic menu. He had seen those hands wield a lightsaber and the Force, wrap bandages, scoop water from a rushing stream. It was distressingly easy for Obi-Wan to imagine them touching him, sliding inside his shirt, beneath his belt, down —

He took a slow breath.

'What are you going to have?' he asked.

'Have you tried the soup?' Qui-Gon replied.

'No, what kind is it?'

'It just says 'soup', which is rather mysterious.'

'Perhaps they don't know either.'

'You've chosen a quality establishment for us, I see.'

Obi-Wan smiled into his own menu. 'Only the best for my master.'

'Hmm,' Qui-Gon said. 'Well, I do enjoy an adventure.' He closed the scrolling menu with a finger.

Obi-Wan selected something random and closed his menu as well. Qui-Gon rolled his shoulders and sat back in his chair, relaxing his limbs, and Obi-Wan did not try very hard to stop the thoughts that washed through his mind. Qui-Gon had an easy, masculine grace. He never seemed uncomfortable in his own skin. And he liked to lean on things and settle into chairs, and for the first time Obi-Wan wondered at that, if it meant that Qui-Gon had an indulgent streak, if he liked to sprawl and enjoy the comfort of his own body.

Obi-Wan had never sucked a man, but the thought of kneeling in front of a sprawled Qui-Gon suddenly made him dizzy with want.

'Oh,' Obi-Wan said.

'Hm?' said Qui-Gon.

'Nothing, Master.'

'Shall I bore you with tales of manufacturing contracts?' Qui-Gon asked. 'Or do you wish to speak of what's been troubling you?'

'No,' Obi-Wan said at once. 'No. It is nothing I cannot resolve within myself, thank you, Master.'

'Qui-Gon,' his master said gently, correcting him.

That didn't help. Offering kindness and understanding, even though he had no notion of what thoughts plagued Obi-Wan — that only made things worse. But Obi-Wan nodded. 'Qui-Gon. Tell me of your trip to Trelis Three, for the coronation. I assume Minister Kell was there.'

'Oh, he was there. The entire clan met us at the spaceport wearing garments made out of fruit. Anakin's eyes nearly left his head.'

Obi-Wan grinned. 'I can imagine. Did you have to sit through one of those dreadful plays as well?' Last time, they had been treated to a series of comedic theatre productions put on in the courtyard of the palace; Obi-Wan had suffered through the entire painful event while Qui-Gon had laughed uproariously along with the audience.

'The royal troupe performed a most entertaining piece for us.'

'Oh? And on a scale of one to Minister Harin bursting into your chambers, how drunk were they?'

'You are a terrible former apprentice,' Qui-Gon reminded him, and serenely accepted his mystery soup from the serving droid.

*

Obi-Wan did his best to abandon his feelings for Qui-Gon. They attended the trade summit each day, in their different sessions, and exchanged a few words when they saw one another. Twice more they had dinner together. And all the while Obi-Wan reminded himself that Qui-Gon was happy with that modest crossing of paths — masters and their former apprentices did not see each other very often. The life of a Jedi was busy and transient, and most importantly, it did not involve attachment.

He spent many hours on his knees in meditation, trying to find and release the part of him that was so attached to Qui-Gon, the part that raged against their separation, yet all he found was a deep well of truth that he had ignored for a long time. At the age of thirteen he had faced the end of his life. He was sent away from the Jedi temple for good, having been accepted by no master, and he found himself on Bandomeer ready to sacrifice himself for what was right. He was thirteen and he faced the end of his life and he had known exactly two things: he was a Jedi, and he belonged with Qui-Gon Jinn.

And in all the years since, through all the triumphs and losses, the battles, the nights spent sitting on some distant hillside watching an alien sun set, nothing had really changed.

He was a Jedi. He belonged with Qui-Gon Jinn.

II.

New Tarlas was a protectorate world with a strong military structure and great stretches of mountains bristling through their governing region. The people seemed to admire the Jedi for their fighting skills but thought them, as one ambassador told Obi-Wan apologetically, a bit too ascetic for their tastes.

'Discipline is everything,' she said, 'but only until the end of the watch.'

'And then?' Obi-Wan asked.

She had smiled. 'Food, laughter, lust. The things that keep us alive. Do you know any of those, Knight Kenobi?'

'I am quite familiar with food,' he had answered. 'But Jedi never laugh.'

'Your eyes tell of your lie, Jedi. When you have completed your mission I hope you will join us in celebration of the victory.'

'I look forward to it, Ambassador.'

Obi-Wan spent weeks in the mountains tracking the movements of a vast but scattered rebel camp, who moved their stash of stolen weapons from one hideout to another through passageways Obi-Wan could only guess at. He camped during the nights, long, rainy nights full of dark, the glow of the city hidden beyond the bulk of the mountain ridge.

The mountains were stark and beautiful. Obi-Wan found the isolation helped to calm the war that he had been waging inside himself, for it seemed that distance was the only answer to his problem. He could not separate being a Jedi from his attachment to Qui-Gon. It seemed impossible. For thirteen years now they had been part of the same whole: one gave rise to the other.

Early one morning, one of the rebels came to talk.

'My commander sends me with a message,' she said. She was young but not afraid, and was wrapped up in rugged clothing suited for a long stay in the mountains. She looked him over curiously. 'Do you have food?'

Obi-Wan handed over a packet, and the girl tore it open and took a bite. It must have tasted alright as she sat down on a rocky outcrop to eat.

'Is your camp low on supplies?' Obi-Wan asked.

'A bit. You're a Jedi?'

'That's right.'

'My commander says Jedi should be treated with respect. That they're warriors. Efficient killers.'

'We defend ourselves and those who need it,' Obi-Wan said.

'So do we,' said the girl.

'I'm sure that seems true to your people. But some of the weapons they took included chemical bombs that cause terrible damage.'

The girl took another bite. 'I know. I'm from Keraley province.'

The province where the chemical weapons had been used.

'A lot of innocent people died there,' Obi-Wan pointed out.

The girl looked at him and away. 'No one's innocent on New Tarlas.'

'Even the younglings?'

'My commander says we'll make a treaty, if you fix it with the Admirals. We'll hand over the bombs if they'll be destroyed so no one else can use them. But you have to see to it, and we keep the other weapons — same ones they have.'

Obi-Wan considered that. 'You know, I read a lot about New Tarlas before I came here. The Admiralty has never succumbed to rebel movements.'

'Doesn't mean we shouldn't try,' the girl said hotly. 'You think we should just go home and suffer and never do anything?'

'No,' Obi-Wan said. 'People should not be passive participants in their lives. But your efforts may be futile. If I can get the Admiralty to sit down with your commander, perhaps we could work out a treaty for more than just the bombs. Something that could lead to peace for all your people.'

The girl shook her head. 'Just the bombs. We won't give up anything else.'

'Not even for the chance of peace?'

She stood and dusted the crumbs off her jacket. 'We don't want peace, Jedi. We want what's right. Will you do it?'

'I'll take your offer to the Admiralty and I'll return with an answer.'

'I'll tell the others,' she said, and Obi-Wan noted the path she took as she left him.

Obi-Wan worked hard to convince the Admiralty to accept the treaty. They wanted to storm the mountains and kill everyone up there through sheer, excessive force, an argument that made Obi-Wan think the rebels had the right idea after all. But eventually they agreed to the terms, and Obi-Wan returned to the mountains feeling weary but glad.

It wasn't a ceasefire but it was something. And perhaps, Obi-Wan thought, the girl was right: sometimes peace meant only surrender.

When the treaty was done and the bombs destroyed, the Tarlan commanders held their celebration. A hall decked out in red and gold and a roaring fire; brocade on every shoulder except his. Wine in the cups and piles of food on the tables. Late in the night a young soldier wove his way over, ran his eyes appreciatively down Obi-Wan's body, and Obi-Wan thought about it. He thought about pressing himself against that supple, strong body, thought about touching his tongue to the boy's soft mouth. He thought about it and said, no.

*

This time when he went to the Council Chambers and gave his report, he asked Master Yoda for his counsel.

They talked in one of the small meditation rooms, empty but for themselves.

'Master Yoda. I wonder if I might ask you about a difficult matter.'

'Ask you may, Obi-Wan.'

'Thank you, Master. I — I find myself struggling to understand the nature of attachment.'

'A challenging matter, that is,' Yoda agreed. He gazed at the floor pensively, tapping his cane lightly as he considered. Obi-Wan waited in silence, his hands clenched in his lap, until at last Yoda raised his head. 'A Jedi, I am,' he said. 'And a Jedi I will always be. A commitment made long ago. Take away the Order, this Temple, all that we see: change I will not. Attachment this is not.'

The faint light from the shuttered window caught dust motes hanging in the air, silvery and soft. Obi-Wan breathed out, sending them spinning.

'The Force surrounds us,' Yoda continued. 'Binds us. Gives us strength. A wave lifting above the ocean, we are. And to the ocean we shall return. Attachment this is not.'

'No, Master,' Obi-Wan murmured. 'But what of attachment to another person? That is against the Code, surely.'

'Feel this way, you do?'

Obi-Wan felt his face flush with warmth. 'I — yes, Master.'

'Your feeling for this person, release it you can? Return it to the Force?'

'No,' Obi-Wan said quietly. 'No more than I can release my self.'

'Hm. Attachment this is?'

'Attachment to — to myself, I suppose.'

Yoda looked pleased. His ears lifted as he peered closely at Obi-Wan in the grey light.

'Ask you to sacrifice yourself, do we?'

'If necessary, Master. If the situation calls for it — to save others, to protect them, yes.' He had always been willing. At thirteen, on Bandomeer, and so many times since then.

'The role of the Jedi,' Yoda agreed. 'And otherwise?'

Obi-Wan stared at Yoda in surprise. 'No,' he realised.

Yoda nodded, and settled both hands on his cane. 'Not mindless soldiers are we. Sadness, joy, love — all these we feel. Teach us compassion, they do. Remind us of the importance of all life.'

'I was sure my feelings meant there was some failure in me,' Obi-Wan confessed. 'Some weakness.'

'A failure they are not. Yet ruled they must be. Your commitment to the Jedi, to the Force — nothing greater must there be.'

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. 'I understand. You have given me much to think about. Though I still do not know what it is I should do.'

'Tell you that, I cannot. Listen to the Force you must.'

'I was afraid you would say that.'

Obi-Wan jumped when the cane rapped his boot, but he grinned, too.

He murmured his thanks as Yoda left the room, and then he sat thinking as the soft daylight fell through the shutters and slowly made its way across the far wall.

He was not wrong. Whether Qui-Gon appreciated Obi-Wan's feelings or not, they were not wrong.

He thought then of New Tarlas, and his conversation with the rebel girl in the mountains. Sometimes peace was not the answer. Sometimes it wasn't what was right.

He took a meandering path to his quarters, looking at the city through rain-drenched windows. The highest spires had disappeared in clouds, the rest was cloaked in grey. He lay down on his bed listening to the distant sound of it, and when he woke it was with a new feeling of clarity.

Acaste. That one blasted mission more than three years ago, and he had been dreaming of it for months. Ever since he had been knighted in fact. It was as if some part of him was still there, standing on the watch tower: crisp, fresh air in his lungs and behind him, Qui-Gon.

How am I going to explain a frozen padawan to the council? Qui-Gon had murmured one morning. Teasing. Fond. Come and eat, revered master.

Obi-Wan had followed him inside and they'd sat down to a modest spread of rations.

That was what he remembered. Eating and then getting ready for the day, taking the long steps down the tower to begin the negotiations again.

They had chatted while they ate. Qui-Gon liked to talk over breakfast, he sometimes told Obi-Wan about the book he was reading — philosophy, history; something scandalous — or something that had occurred at the Senate of late. But that morning he had said —

I have noticed you keep to yourself.

How so? Obi-Wan had replied, tearing off a bite of jakala. I am with you almost all hours of the day, or haven't you noticed?

When we are on Coruscant, Qui-Gon said. Do you never seek out companionship?

Obi-Wan had felt baffled. We are rarely on Coruscant, Master. The last time we were I helped train the younglings for several weeks, don't forget. And I had lunch with Bant before we left.

Qui-Gon had smiled a little. I mean personal companionship. If that is something you are interested in.

Oh. Well. I suppose I don't have much time.

You could perhaps find the time, if you wished it, Qui-Gon said mildly. Unless you have no interest? Is there no one whom you would wish to be close to, in that way?

Obi-Wan remembered Qui-Gon's expression then: patient, accepting. Intent.

I'm very focused on working towards my knighthood, Master, Obi-Wan had said with some difficulty. That is all that matters to me. It was true enough, though he had not been able to look at his master as he said it.

I understand, Qui-Gon had said, and he had not ever raised the topic again.

*

Obi-Wan thought about that conversation as he lay in bed. He thought about it as he got up and drank some water, and as he washed up in the fresher. He thought about it as he dressed, and as he ate in the mess hall, and as he returned to his quarters. It plagued him as he sat and stared blankly at his datapad.

He had been mistaken.

He had missed something.

It was dark in his quarters, and from beyond the Temple walls he could hear the rain, heavy and drenching, and the echo of distant thunder rolling over the city. He played the memory through again in his mind: Qui-Gon's expression, his careful inquiry. That morning on Acaste Obi-Wan assumed his master had simply been curious — after all, Qui-Gon had been matched with a padawan who clung to tradition; he must have often wondered at Obi-Wan's reticence, his obedience.

But Obi-Wan had been mistaken. He knew his master, and suddenly he could see it much more clearly: Qui-Gon had not merely been curious. He had been asking.

Obi-Wan stood. He tossed aside his cloak and left the darkness of his quarters. He strode down the hall. Up several floors, past the gardens, past the upper meditation rooms, took a right turn and came to a halt outside Qui-Gon's door.

This close to the gardens he could hear the storm properly; rain drummed on the courtyard, a beating torrent of noise.

It took time for Qui-Gon to answer his door but then he stood there, towering and half-dressed.

'Master,' Obi-Wan began but checked himself. 'Qui-Gon. Forgive me for the late hour, I hope I did not wake you. I realised. That is —' He had not thought of what he would say, he had not prepared. 'Do you remember when I was injured, I told you that I felt I had missed something? I think I've realised what it was, just now in fact.' Obi-Wan paused, having the uneasy feeling that he had begun to sweat.

Qui-Gon was looking confused. 'Obi-Wan, are you well?'

'Yes, very well, thank you, Master. You see I've. I've been thinking about it, for quite some time, months in fact, possibly more actually, but it only became clear to me just a short time ago.'

Qui-Gon frowned. 'What you missed.'

'On Acaste,' said Obi-Wan, and took a breath. 'With you.'

He looked up at Qui-Gon with a painful sort of hope, feeling as though he stood on a cliff edge.

Qui-Gon did not speak. He gazed back at Obi-Wan with an unreadable expression for a long moment — too long. Then he turned his head for a moment to look over his shoulder.

'Obi-Wan,' he began.

Clarity burst upon Obi-Wan in an instant, and he stepped back instinctively. He could sense, now that he was paying attention, the presence of another Jedi in Qui-Gon's quarters. In the middle of the night. And there was Qui-Gon, standing in his doorway with his hair down and his chest bare, a pair of sleeping pants pulled on in haste.

Obi-Wan looked quickly at the floor to collect himself. 'Forgive me, Master, I am intruding. I had not realised the — the lateness of the hour. Ah. Excuse me.'

Qui-Gon did not stop him. He walked blindly back to his quarters but instead of going inside he kept walking, past the meditation rooms, past the training salles and out to one of the landing pads. Almost instantly he was folded into the dark hum of the urban night. Rain fell on his face. Speeders zipped by, leaving electric trails in the air. Above him a transport was leaving the Temple district, its side flashing blue and yellow advertisements in sickly waves.

Obi-Wan gazed up at it, and jumped.

From the roof of the transport he leapt to a landing pad at the Senate building, then hopped from one whizzing speeder to another until he had left the Senate district behind as well. Surprised drivers shook their fists at him or yelled things that were stolen by the wind as they hurtled through the cityscape, but he paid them no mind. This was the easiest and best way to get around the city, as far as he was concerned, though he didn't often allow himself this freedom. The Force carried him, made him strong, helped him fly. Eventually he let himself fall, taking dizzying leaps down and down and down until he had left the spires and skylanes behind, and the thrum of speeders was replaced by the noise of people hurrying out of the wet night. That was fine. He just needed to put some distance between himself and — everything else.

For he had missed two somethings, he could see it now. One on Acaste, three years ago. And another here, now, right in front of him.

The famous towers of Coruscant had given way to the clunking, grey industrial sector. This part of the city had always fascinated Obi-Wan when he was young. There was none of the grand facade here, but a rundown labyrinth that was home to a great many industrial workers. Down one alley in particular there was a bar, a tucked away, ruined sort of place whose shadows were populated with thieves, smugglers and villains. It was probably not the place for a Jedi.

'Dodbri whiskey. Double, actually,' Obi-Wan said, taking a seat and sinking his gaze to the cracked counter.

'Trouble, Jedi?' murmured the bartender, a Twi'lek male who leaned over the bar suggestively.

'No, thank you,' Obi-Wan sighed.

He would survive his embarrassment — he was no longer a boy in the throes of social agony. But the rest — it burned at him. The sense of having lost something that he'd never known he could have.

He threw back his drink and motioned for another.

*

He walked back to the Temple. It seemed fitting: he had spent so much time, lately, walking his way across mountains and tundras and cities, down tunnels and royal halls, putting one foot in front of the other again and again. This did not feel so different.

It was dawn and the rain had stopped, and although Coruscant never slept there was a pleasing softness to the pale clouds and the chill morning air. It felt clean, as though the city had been shriven of its ugliness for a small, transforming moment.

The Temple loomed into view, and Obi-Wan kept placing one foot in front of another until he had reached his quarters, shut his door, and sank down onto his bed.

Acaste, he thought muzzily, would rate above Hoth. But probably not by much.

*

Some hours later he was woken by the metallic chirp of his door alert.

'Ugh, no,' he said, rolling over to stick his face into the sheets.

The door chirped again.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in brilliant horror. Last night. Arriving at Qui-Gon's quarters, dragging his master out of bed — a bed that had been occupied with another.

No doubt that was Qui-Gon at the door now.

Well. He was a knight and a grown man and he would deal with this in a sensible way.

He got up and padded barefoot out to the door of his quarters. He was wearing half his clothes from last night but it seemed highly unlikely anyone from the Council would be visiting him. He palmed the door release.

'Qui-Gon,' he said, squinting slightly. 'Good morning.'

Qui-Gon looked perfectly put-together, neat and impassive in his dark cloak. Obi-Wan remembered how he had looked last night, half naked, his hair wild. The image spiked through Obi-Wan like a wound.

'Obi-Wan,' Qui-Gon said, looking at him carefully. 'May we speak?'

'Of course. I am just up, but come in. I'll make tea.'

He pottered around the small kitchen of his quarters, setting water to boil, and then ducked into the fresher to clean up. He ran his fingers through his hair — it was growing rather messily out of his padawan cut — and pulled on a clean undershirt. As he did he thought quickly about what he needed to say.

'Qui-Gon, I must apologise again for last night,' he said as he emerged. 'I should have waited for a more suitable hour to —' He smiled ruefully. 'To apprise you of my ideas.'

Qui-Gon stood in the middle of his quarters, his hands folded into his sleeves. 'Sometimes these things need to be done no matter the hour,' he said. 'But we should speak about...your ideas.'

Obi-Wan turned into the kitchen. 'There's no need,' he said over his shoulder. He scooped out some tea, pulled out two cups. 'I believe I understand the situation. Acaste was a long time ago. I realise things are different now.'

'Different,' Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan glanced back to see he had drawn closer.

Obi-Wan felt as though he were shaking. He abandoned the tea and turned around to face Qui-Gon openly. 'Yes. For you, and for me. I will be happy to know things can go on as they were before. Before last night.'

'I see,' said Qui-Gon. 'Obi-Wan.' He hesitated. 'I want you to know I have tried to be very careful not to affect your training with personal matters.'

'My training is over,' Obi-Wan said.

'Yes. I hope it will not affect our friendship now.'

'No,' Obi-Wan said dumbly. He hardly knew what he said; the words came out even though he did not understand what was happening. 'It won't.'

'Good.' But Qui-Gon did not look happy. 'I will leave you then.'

'Alright,' said Obi-Wan.

*

It was early the following morning when Obi-Wan was called to the Council Chamber.

'Another report? Did not Knight Lafai leave only yesterday to investigate one from Malastare?'

Mace Windu steepled his fingers. 'Are you suggesting we investigate none of the reports we receive, Knight Kenobi, or only some?'

'My apologies, Master. Only I fear we are being distracted.'

'It is highly unlikely one of these reports will lead us directly to the Sith Lord we seek,' Adi Gallia agreed. 'But a genuine report may give us critical information.'

'Which is far better than the alternative,' Windu added.

'Yes, Masters,' said Obi-Wan, carefully keeping his weariness from his voice. 'Where am I to go?'

'To Sus Devour, in the Halori sector. The mid-eastern colony. Here are their most recent communiques to the Chancellor.' Windu held out a small datapad. 'There will be a transport leaving from Bay Five this evening.'

Obi-Wan took the datapad and bowed. 'Thank you, Masters.'

He had several hours to read through the information the Council had gathered on the Halori sector, and time to clear out his messages and eat lunch. When that was done he took his cloak and walked until he had found Qui-Gon in the gardens, sitting on a bench under a blossoming Yula tree.

'Reading, Master?' Obi-Wan asked as he approached, and Qui-Gon looked up from his datapad.

'Collecting mission notes for Anakin to read,' Qui-Gon answered, motioning for Obi-Wan to sit down. 'We are bound for Alderaan in three day's time.'

'Is he ready to go back into the field then?'

'He is making progress.' Qui-Gon frowned out into the garden. 'Although he is resistant,' he added.

'In what way?'

'He is not always obedient. I want him to think for himself but sometimes he does not think, or follow instruction.'

Obi-Wan's buried, lingering worry about Anakin began to unfurl. 'It is late to bring him to the Temple,' he said carefully. 'His personality is set, Qui-Gon. And he is surrounded by younglings who have been here for as long as they can remember, who are already taught to behave a certain way.'

'Yes, and I do not want him to reject his life experience. But it means we must work harder to teach him.' Qui-Gon paused. 'I must work harder,' he amended. 'He does not have to give up himself to be a Jedi but he must adapt to this life.'

'Yes,' Obi-Wan said musingly, thinking of his talk with Master Yoda. 'But you say he resists training?'

'He is eager to learn new skills. It is the ideas he does not like. The reasons why we do things the way we do.'

'Says Qui-Gon Jinn, who told the Council they are stuffy, hide-bound traditionalists who refuse to do things differently.'

A sudden smile broke out on Qui-Gon's face. 'Please tell me you do not have that speech memorised.'

'I don't have to memorise your speeches, Master; I hear them with regularity.'

They smiled at one another, there in the afternoon shade, until Obi-Wan caught himself. He looked away self-consciously.

'Shall we walk?' he asked, grateful when Qui-Gon set aside the datapad to join him. They wandered down between a row of thick trees and vined flowers, surrounded by green. This was one of Qui-Gon's favourite places in the Temple.

'I am leaving for the Mid-Rim,' Obi-Wan began. 'This evening in fact. And I wanted to see you. Master, I realise Acaste — it was a long time ago now. And I know things have changed. Frankly, I never dreamed that you — that you might —'

'Fall in love?' Qui-Gon said.

For a long, stretching moment all Obi-Wan could do was stare.

'Did you?' he managed at last. His voice was strange to his ears.

Qui-Gon folded his arms into the wide, dark sleeves of his cloak. 'Obi-Wan,' he began, which was horribly familiar.

'Did you,' Obi-Wan repeated.

Qui-Gon took a slow breath. 'We should speak about Acaste.'

'Gods, Qui-Gon.'

'We should speak about it when you return. Our duty as Jedi must come first.'

That was true. Wasn't it what Master Yoda had said, and what Obi-Wan himself had been thinking? He tucked his hands into his own sleeves, and clutched his elbows painfully tight. 'Very well,' he managed. 'I suppose I will see you upon my return, then.'

'Yes,' Qui-Gon said. 'May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.'

'Yes,' Obi-Wan said, 'and you, Master.' He stepped back unwillingly, and then he turned and put one foot in front of another until he had walked all the way to Bay Five.

*

Sus Devour was a small world in the Mid-Rim that kept itself only marginally involved in galactic affairs. It was known to have an extensive energy shield which repelled scanning equipment, making it, Obi-Wan supposed, the ideal place to hide from the eyes of the Republic.

The trip out was quick. Obi-Wan climbed out at the spaceport and looked around in surprise.

The place was empty. Large, flat landing pads stretched away into long grass that bowed and shook in the wind. The transport was the only craft to be seen, and behind it stood an open hangar that looked long-abandoned.

The grass ran in every direction, a rustling green sea that poured out to the empty horizon.

Obi-Wan reached out with his mind, sensing the Force, feeling for the ripples of others — and they were there, but small. A flock of birds. Heavy, old stones. Presences that had ripened in the Force, that moved in the currents of the world. He sensed no disturbance, no twisting of light into dark, yet he was far from the settlements. Those he would have to reach on foot, and the Force whispered from the east, urging him on.

It was daybreak, and cold and clear. Obi-Wan drew up his hood and began to walk in the path of the sun.

In the largest settlement he found the ambassador who had made the report. A reedy man with a weary face, he waved a hand to encompass the low, sprawling township. 'People were talking and I thought it best to alert the Senate. There's been killings out west, and the bodies were burned through like it was done with your light swords. No blood, no blaster marks. I can put you in touch with the settlement patrols though; they'd know better what's happening on the ground.'

So Obi-Wan spoke to the patrols and the residents, and he travelled west to look at village where the killings took place. The bodies had long since been buried. But the people who saw it insisted it had been a man, hooded, with a red blade.

He travelled further. From the first flourish of settlements to the deep stretch of woods, and past it to the foot of the Devouring Mountains, he made contact with people and investigated every lead. Many of the people he asked had no idea what he was talking about, and he felt again that the Jedi were chasing little but ghosts and rumours.

But he could not leave. Not long after he had arrived he had begun to sleep uneasily, and during the waking hours he could not shake the feeling that all was not well.

'I have found nothing dependable,' he told Windu over a crackling comm channel. 'But something is not right here.'

'Is there no trace of the Sith?'

'A few scattered reports from local communities, Master Windu, that's all.'

'They are adept at hiding themselves. You must find the source of your unease, Obi-Wan. Allow the Force to guide you.'

Obi-Wan finished his call feeling disgruntled. Allow the Force to guide him? He listened to it constantly. It sent him nightmares.

*

The second harvest season was upon the communities of Sus Devour, at least in the eastern province, which meant nights of feasting and celebration to follow the hard work of the day. On one of these nights Obi-Wan found the villagers lighting a giant bonfire out on the plains.

'It's Brightest Night,' one of them told him excitedly. 'Come and eat!' Obi-Wan supposed the bonfire was what made it bright, for the night itself was growing deep and dark.

He sat on a log some way from the fire and gratefully ate the food that was passed his way. All around people were talking and jostling one another, telling stories, and children were running in and out of the shadows.

It was nice to be around people again, Obi-Wan found, especially after the weeks he had spent alone searching the province, but the festive atmosphere wearied him too. He had not slept well in some time.

He chewed methodically at his piece of seared meat and allowed himself to think of something other than his mission. The Temple. The blossoming Yula tree. His last meeting with Qui-Gon. That had been a conversation he would not soon forget. Qui-Gon was not one to waste words, but that had been reticent, even for him. And — Obi-Wan had not allowed himself to ask the question openly before now — had Qui-Gon admitted to falling in love with whomever had been his companion, that night Obi-Wan had roused him? Or was it love he had felt back on Acaste, three years ago now and long past?

'Oh, shut up, Kenobi,' Obi-Wan muttered.

He rose and slipped away from the fire, moving deeper into the shadows and away from the noise and the cheer. The further away he got the more peaceful it became: the night was cool and dark, and thousands of stars clustered above in a high black sky.

Soon the barren plain rose up into a rocky ridge, and on the other side it sank down into a wide grassfield like the one Obi-Wan had seen when he first arrived. The long grasses rustled in the darkness, and whispered unhappily as the wind ran over them.

Obi-Wan waded into them slowly, running his hands along the soft stalks. He was thinking how tempting it was to just keep walking when he felt a presence behind him. The Force clamoured at him sharply and he turned.

'You have searched hard for me, young one,' said a voice. A man, some distance away, hooded and faceless in the dark. 'I think I should reward you for your labour.'

'Kind of you to come and introduce yourself,' Obi-Wan said. 'Do you have a name?'

'My name won't help you.'

'Not famous?' Obi-Wan said sympathetically. 'That is hard luck.'

'I'll be famous enough to you,' said the man coldly. 'As the one who takes your life.'

Obi-Wan calmly looked at the dark figure, and then shrugged off his cloak. 'You may try.'

The darkness was split by the brilliant blue light of his blade; a moment later it was answered by red.

'Sith,' Obi-Wan murmured.

'Not quite,' said the man. 'But I'll still enjoy killing a Jedi.'

He could fight. He was upon Obi-Wan at once, slashing with the red saber, pressing his attack. Obi-Wan worked hard, drawing on the Force to compensate for the lack of light, but his opponent was quick and lethal, attacking with vicious strokes that rained down against him. Their sabers crackled as they lashed at each other, lightning-fast, burning in the darkness.

He could fight like a Jedi, this one. Obi-Wan flung himself back as the red blade sizzled above his face and swept around to his left. He somersaulted, and in the spare second thrust out a hand to push hard with the Force, sending the man flying.

He could fight like a Jedi but not like a Knight. Obi-Wan went on the attack. He landed blows hard and fast, blocked by the red saber but the man stumbled under the assault, and Obi-Wan caught his opponent with a quick strike to his arm. There was a sizzle of burnt flesh. The man jerked and cried out, and hit out at Obi-Wan's thigh with a punishing kick. Obi-Wan fell to one knee but steadied, and as the man came in close, shoved his blade up hard.

The man froze as Obi-Wan's saber burned through his torso. He said nothing; he made no sound. He seemed to hang there for a moment, his eyes lit from below by Obi-Wan's blade, and then he curved slowly back into the dark, murmuring field below.

Obi-Wan extinguished his saber. He stayed kneeling, his breath coming short and sharp, and looked at the figure on the ground. A clean wound, right through the torso.

Suddenly Obi-Wan felt the wind, cold against his heated skin.

He should move. He thumbed his lightsaber on again and in its light he found the man's weapon and hooked it onto his own belt. The Council would want to see it. He checked the man's pockets and cloak but found little else: a credit chip and a small metal blade. Then he looked again at the slack face. He did not recognise it.

The trip back to the bonfire seemed long, after that; a trek through the emptiness of night-covered plains. He had walked a long way. Obi-Wan wrapped his cloak around himself tightly but the wind seemed to sneak in anyway, sliding coldly against his neck and wrists.

He had wrapped the man's own cloak around the body, and covered the face. It was not sentiment that made him do so, exactly, but something else. Beneath the aggression of the man's fighting style there had been the devastating, elegant violence Obi-Wan had seen every day of his life, in the training salles, the courtyards, the fields of battle, and that familiarity told him something dreadful.

He would have to travel to the comm station. He would have to tell the Masters he had killed one of their own.

*

'A padawan?' Yoda's voice was shocked.

'I suspect so, Master Yoda. He was skilled but not at the level of a Knight. I imagine he had received significant training.'

There was silence across the faintly crackling comm channel. Obi-Wan could not see the Council but he could imagine the grave sadness that must have filled the room.

'And he carried a red blade?' That was Windu.

'Yes, but he claimed not to be a Sith.'

'A lie, perhaps,' said another voice, Master Bilaba.

'He was certainly filled with rage,' Obi-Wan said. He saw again the man's slow fall down to the ground, and the stark wound through his chest. That too was intimately familiar. 'Do you —' he said quickly, and cleared his throat. 'Do you wish me to bring the body to the Temple?'

A pause while the Council perhaps conferred silently. It felt terribly old-fashioned, having an audio-only channel. Obi-Wan found he rather liked it.

'Retrieve the body,' Windu said. 'Master Koth will meet you in two standard days with a medical frigate to transport it back to the Temple.'

'Yes, Master.'

'If he was indeed a Sith, Knight Kenobi,' Master Bilaba said, 'you may have rid the galaxy of a longstanding evil. Well done.'

'Thank you,' Obi-Wan said quietly. 'Though I am not sure I believe he was a Sith. There was something of truth in what he said.'

'Consider this we shall, Obi-Wan. Prepare to return to Coruscant you must.'

'Yes, Master.'

The comm channel closed, leaving Obi-Wan standing in the quiet of the comm station.

The settlers had helped him collect the body and place it in a storage unit. Now he would have to wait until the frigate arrived. He thought about healing some of his scrapes and bruises and having a proper shower. He thought about standing in front of the Council and debriefing them on what he had done. Mostly he wished he could tell Qui-Gon —

Tell Qui-Gon he'd killed someone's former padawan. Tell Qui-Gon he was sorry he hadn't come to see him when Qui-Gon first got out of the infirmary. Tell him that it was alright if he wanted someone else now, because Obi-Wan had watched a man fall back with a saber cutting through his chest and if all Obi-Wan could ever have was the knowledge that his Master was alive and well, it would be enough.

*

Obi-Wan treated his own injuries on the return trip to Coruscant, and slept as the ship sailed through hyperspace. When they docked he reported directly to the Council while the body of the fallen Jedi was taken to the morgue for identification.

When he left the Council Chambers he found Qui-Gon waiting for him.

'I saw you disembark,' Qui-Gon said. 'Depa told me you may have killed a Sith.'

Obi-Wan shook his head. 'I don't think so. I don't know. But I think he was — perhaps he used to be one of us.'

Understanding settled over Qui-Gon's face. 'A terrible thing,' he said simply.

'Yes,' Obi-Wan agreed. He didn't feel as though he needed to say more on that point. Qui-Gon knew better than anyone what it was to lose a Jedi to the dark. It was a loss of a person, but it was also a broken link in a chain, making them all more vulnerable.

Qui-Gon gazed at him, assessing. 'Anakin is in class with the younglings, if you should like to talk. Or perhaps you are hungry?'

No. Rather than hungry Obi-Wan felt overly full, of worry and pain and doubt. Everything that had happened in the last months was jumbled inside of him, leaving no room for anything else.

He knew what he wanted; he just didn't know if Qui-Gon wanted it too.

'I need you to tell me,' he said at last.

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. 'Very well. Let's talk on the balcony.'

It was mid-morning. The day was bright and full of drifting clouds; traffic beetled through the far off skylanes without pause.

Obi-Wan put his hands on the balcony wall, warm from the sun, and looked out over the district.

'Was I right about Acaste?' he asked when Qui-Gon had come to stand beside him.

'Yes,' said Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan ducked his head and examined his hands on the wall.

'But your feelings — your wishes have changed?'

'No,' said Qui-Gon.

'You still —' Obi-Wan's voice broke. He stared downwards with a tight throat.

'Obi-Wan.'

Qui-Gon didn't seem to know what to say either, which was when Obi-Wan began to understand.

'Tell me. Please.'

There was a long pause. High over the city, Obi-Wan listened to the sounds of far-off traffic and his own pounding heartbeat.

Then Qui-Gon spoke. 'When Yoda told me of your message from Aris-9, I was afraid. Anakin and I were at the Corellian spaceports. I wanted to leave immediately, to find you. But I could not take Anakin into such a large crisis, not while he is still so untrained. Yoda told me that Depa had left that morning, that she was close. It was the only solace I had. The thought of you — wounded —'

He smoothed a distracted hand over the wall, a small gesture that to Obi-Wan spoke volumes.

'I was thinking of you too,' Obi-Wan admitted. 'Mostly that it was a good thing you and Anakin were not there.'

Qui-Gon looked at him then. He reached out and touched the place where Obi-Wan's padawan braid used to be. 'I regret I missed your knighting ceremony,' he said softly.

'It wasn't much of a ceremony, truth be told. I was called into the Council Chambers, and they said they had made me a knight and they had a new mission for me.' Obi-Wan paused a moment, remembering the sadness and shock of standing in his quarters later, a new knight, separated from his master while Qui-Gon was still unconscious. 'I cut the braid myself, back in my quarters.'

'You earned your knighthood, Obi-Wan. Do not doubt that.'

'I know,' Obi-Wan said. 'But I wish it had happened in a different way. I couldn't be there when you woke. And — I didn't come to you, afterwards.'

Qui-Gon rubbed a gentle thumb over Obi-Wan's temple.

'That time we spent on Acaste,' he said, his voice deep and hesitant, 'I wanted to kiss you.' He paused and huffed an incredulous breath at his own words. 'Kiss you — I wanted to fall upon you like a starving man.'

'Qui-Gon,' Obi-Wan said.

'If you feel the same,' Qui-Gon began.

'I do. I do feel the same.'

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. 'Perhaps we should talk somewhere more private.'

Obi-Wan led the way back inside the Temple and they walked together down to Obi-Wan's quarters. His head was swimming, rushing, as though he did not know what to feel first.

The door had barely shut behind them when Qui-Gon laid a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

Obi-Wan grabbed a fistful of the front of Qui-Gon's robes and kissed him back, hard. He heard himself make a helpless sound, gasping for breath as their mouths briefly parted and Qui-Gon kissed him again, working his mouth hungrily against Obi-Wan's, digging his hand up into Obi-Wan's hair and pushing him back against the wall.

'Unh,' Obi-Wan said as Qui-Gon bit his lip, pulling it a little, and then licked into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan grabbed at Qui-Gon desperately, his head, his shoulders; he ran his own tongue over Qui-Gon's and jerked at the sensation, banging his head against the wall.

'Gods,' he breathed as Qui-Gon released him and looked at him quickly.

'Are you alright?' Qui-Gon asked. He smoothed a distracted hand over Obi-Wan's head, and then down his throat.

'Yes, yes, come here.'

Qui-Gon pressed in close. He kissed Obi-Wan deeply, almost lazily, and began pressing his tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth with slow, sexual strokes that sent a shiver down through Obi-Wan's body.

It was all he could do to hold on, to keep up. He tilted his head higher, feeling Qui-Gon's tongue pushing into him, and pressed his body up against Qui-Gon's strong, solid mass. He wanted all of him, everything, right now.

Maybe Qui-Gon was thinking the same thing because his hands slid down Obi-Wan's body, greedily clutching handfuls of his sides and his hips and then his arse.

Obi-Wan groaned. This was Qui-Gon without his politeness or his discipline: Qui-Gon cupping Obi-Wan's arse with strong hands, unrepentant hands; Qui-Gon kissing him mercilessly.

Obi-Wan was going to come in his pants.

'That's fine,' he gasped as Qui-Gon let go of his mouth to suck on his throat and inexplicably Qui-Gon snorted with laughter. His grip on Obi-Wan eased and he raised his head.

'That's fine?' he inquired. His eyes were shining and his lips were red and he looked a mess. It was glorious.

'Um,' Obi-Wan said. His knees felt like water. 'My knees,' he said stupidly.

Qui-Gon seemed to have his own distractions. He touched gentle fingertips to Obi-Wan's face.

'Your knees,' he said quietly. Obi-Wan glanced up and saw Qui-Gon looking at him with an expression that made him tremble.

'Yes,' said Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon blinked. 'They hurt?'

'No, they, um —' Obi-Wan paused. Concentrating was difficult.

'Shall I hold you up?' Qui-Gon said, still in that same low, soft voice that was made only for the small space between them. He closed the gap, leaning in until his lips were just about to touch Obi-Wan's. 'Or bed,' he murmured.

Obi-Wan breathed shakily. 'Bed.'

Qui-Gon took a slow kiss from his mouth and drew back, catching hold of one of Obi-Wan's hands and pulling him gently away from the wall.

Obi-Wan's quarters did not have a separate bedroom. As they drew near to the bed Obi-Wan put his hands to Qui-Gon's chest and slid them under his cloak, pushing it up and off his shoulders. Qui-Gon watched as he undid Qui-Gon's belt, unwrapped his stoles and outer tunic, letting everything fall carelessly to the ground.

He paused then, and Qui-Gon grabbed the hem of his own under tunic and pulled it off, exposing his bare chest. He cast the tunic aside and bent to haul off his boots and socks, leaving him barefoot.

'May I,' he asked, throwing his boots to one side and reaching for Obi-Wan's cloak.

They had seen each other naked. All those years working and travelling together, mending each other's injuries, bathing in the same lakes and streams: it happened. But this felt different. Obi-Wan felt as though his body were changing, as though he was revealing something new as Qui-Gon carefully peeled off his layers.

When they were both barefoot and bare-chested, with only their pants covering them, Obi-Wan gazed at Qui-Gon's skin. This was something new, too. It was healthy and smooth and solid, and when he raised a hand and dragged his fingertips across Qui-Gon's torso he felt no scar.

Gently Qui-Gon tilted his chin up, and looked at him, and kissed him.

'I'm well, Obi-Wan,' he murmured against Obi-Wan's mouth. He rubbed his thumb along Obi-Wan's jaw. 'I'm alright.'

Obi-Wan struggled for composure; stupidly he felt like crying. 'Master,' he said.

'Qui-Gon.'

Obi-Wan huffed a small laugh. 'Qui-Gon.'

'Lay down with me,' Qui-Gon suggested.

'Yes,' Obi-Wan said and pushed back against him until they met the bed and he could follow Qui-Gon down to the sheets.

*

Later, Obi-Wan went to the maintenance bay where Master Gallia was inspecting the fallen Jedi's lightsaber. It was afternoon and the halls were busy with Jedi going to and fro, carrying equipment and datapads and holocrons.

He barely noticed the direction he took. He had left his quarters some time before, when Qui-Gon had gone to meet Anakin and Master Yoda for a training session, but his mind was still back there, lost in the sheets of his bed.

His body thrummed with heat and satisfaction. Every now and then little aftershocks ran through him as he remembered the way Qui-Gon had looked — the way he had sucked Obi-Wan with his eyes closed, as if he was lost in the greatest pleasure; the way he had thrust desperately into Obi-Wan's hand.

Obi-Wan paused in the corridor and took a deep breath before he continued on, doing his best to look tranquil.

Acaste, he thought, was not so very bad. It would surely rank well above Trelis Three.

*

Master Gallia had disassembled the lightsaber when he got there and was inspecting the crystal. It turned slowly in the air as she sensed it through the Force.

'I cannot tell where it was mined,' she said. 'I think the crystal has been corrupted somehow.'

After looking over the saber components himself Obi-Wan gave up his pretense at concentration and went to the training salles. There he took a seat and watched Qui-Gon and Master Yoda instruct Anakin in defense manoeuvres.

As Qui-Gon and Anakin began to spar carefully, Yoda sat down next to Obi-Wan.

'A quick learner Anakin is.'

'Yes, Master Yoda. He is quite skillful. And he has a good teacher.'

Yoda hummed in agreement. 'A good teacher you will be in turn, Obi-Wan.'

'Ah, thank you, Master, but I do not think I am ready for a padawan learner just yet.'

'Not yet, perhaps,' Yoda said. He squinted as if peering into the future. 'But someday.'

Obi-Wan looked at him mischievously. 'Did the Force just tell you I'm going to have an apprentice?' he asked. 'That is quite useful. Perhaps you could tell me the poor unfortunate's name and I shall start preparing some lesson plans.'

Yoda waved him away. 'A menace you are, Obi-Wan. When 900 years old you are, find jokes funny you will not!'

Obi-Wan laughed. 'My apologies, Master Yoda. Though I have quite a wait until I am 900. Perhaps I shall strive to hold off on jokes until I am a master.'

'Need them then, you will, hm?' Yoda chuckled a little, and looked at Obi-Wan appraisingly. 'Sleep, you must, Obi-Wan. Tired you are.'

'I suppose I am, Master, but I don't feel it.'

'No, your happiness I can see. Pleased I am that you have found your way. Busy we have kept you of late.'

'Quite busy,' Obi-Wan agreed. 'And I feel I still have much to learn.'

Yoda nodded and watched as Anakin flipped and did a dashing sweep with his practice saber. Qui-Gon made him repeat it until it was not just an accident but a skill.

Seeing this early training brought back a flood of memories for Obi-Wan, and as he watched he realised he was glad that this part of his life was over. He was no longer a padawan leaning the skills of his vocation. It was true, he still had much to learn. But he had crossed a boundary somewhere in the past eight months, and felt as though he had properly come into his adulthood: no longer a young man but a man fully grown. He knew without question that he could stand on his own as a knight of the Order, because he had already done it. It felt like a bedrock within him, like something he could count on.

In the salle the afternoon light deepened and began to fade. Qui-Gon's green saber flashed and swept past Anakin, slowing enough at crucial moments so that Anakin could see and block it.

When the sparring session ended Yoda activated a small droid for Anakin to practice against, and Obi-Wan drew near to where Qui-Gon was putting on his cloak.

'His training goes well,' he commented, and touched his fingers gently to the sleeve of Qui-Gon's cloak.

Qui-Gon nodded, his gaze warm. 'The initiates have a practice session here shortly; he will stay to learn with them. Are you hungry?'

'Yes. I have food in my quarters, if you'd like to join me.'

They farewelled Anakin and Master Yoda and walked slowly up the levels to Obi-Wan's quarters.

'I have learned an important lesson of late,' Obi-Wan said.

'Oh?'

'Yes. That I am both oblivious and slow-witted. And that you would not tell me what you wanted even if you were on fire and wanted a bucket of water.'

'If I were on fire, my old padawan, I hope I would not need to ask for water,' Qui-Gon said with great dignity, though the lines around his eyes crinkled in mirth.

Obi-Wan stared at him in smiling amazement. This was his headstrong, frustrating Master, so familiar and well-known. And it was also, apparently, a man who loved him. Who wanted him. Who had said nothing on Acaste, believing himself to be unwanted.

'I am only glad your feelings did not change in the three years I was being a blithering idiot,' Obi-Wan said.

'Longer,' Qui-Gon said quietly. 'A long time.'

Obi-Wan felt unsteady. They started down the empty hallway to Obi-Wan's quarters.

'Me too,' he admitted. 'But I told myself I had gotten over it. I thought I had.'

'Oh?' Qui-Gon said, and there was a twinkle in his eye that meant trouble.

'I am a mere shadow of my former self,' Obi-Wan assured him, trying to hold back a smile. 'My teenage years were a special torment. I spent them alternately repressing my feelings or finding quiet moments to —'

'To?'

Excitement swept over Obi-Wan like a wave. 'Well. I could show you if you like.'

They were kissing as the doors closed, clutching at each other and bumping into the wall. It had only been a few hours but Obi-Wan felt desperate for Qui-Gon's skin on his, for the weight of his body, for his mouth pressing against Obi-Wan's own.

He fell back on the bed and smirked up at Qui-Gon, who paused, standing at the edge of the bed.

'Are you going to watch?' Obi-Wan asked cheekily.

Something flickered over Qui-Gon's face, something heated and vulnerable all at once. It gave Obi-Wan courage to unbuckle his belt and throw off his tunics, and then he caught Qui-Gon's eye as he slid one hand slowly into his pants.

It was electric. He touched himself lightly, teasing himself with just the very edge of sensation as he stared up at Qui-Gon. He'd imagined this. At nineteen, alone, wanting to pretend that Qui-Gon was secretly torn by desiring his padawan; Obi-Wan had enacted great tragedies in his mind where Qui-Gon suffered with a forbidden love. In those dreams Qui-Gon had come to him, urgent and commanding and tactile, wanting Obi-Wan desperately, enough that he would finally say all the things Obi-Wan wanted to hear.

In those dreams he had never stood silently at the side of the bed, seeming just as untouchable as he always had.

Obi-Wan's hand paused as a vague sense of doubt began to spread through him, but Qui-Gon seemed to sense it and he held Obi-Wan's gaze.

'Have you ever been with a man?' he asked. The sound of his voice, low and warm, sent a shiver through Obi-Wan's body.

'No,' Obi-Wan answered.

'With anyone?'

'Some — some small things,' Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon's expression flickered; there was mischief in his eyes.

'You have been with small things,' he said dubiously.

'I hate you so much,' said Obi-Wan, shaking with sudden laughter.

'I try not to judge,' Qui-Gon said. 'If that is your preference —'

'If you even breathe the word Dagobah I am leaving immediately.'

'These are your quarters.'

'Gods! I think you must be the most troublesome Jedi that ever lived.'

'I certainly intend to be extremely troublesome with you, Obi-Wan.'

'Alright,' Obi-Wan said a little stupidly. He was smiling, couldn't help it, and his earlier doubt was ebbing away. 'But I might get started without you,' he said, feeling cheeky again. This time he wrapped his fingers around his cock and began to pump it slowly, his fingers dragging on the head and giving him a jolt of pleasure. A rough sound caught in his throat and Qui-Gon reacted, an aborted movement that made Obi-Wan feel suddenly triumphant. Qui-Gon was watching. Qui-Gon wanted to touch him.

Qui-Gon was not quite in control of himself.

Obi-Wan let go of his cock and lifted his hips to push his pants down to his knees. He lay back on the bed and bent one thigh out provocatively, exposing the pale soft skin.

He watched as Qui-Gon looked at him, Qui-Gon's gaze half-lidded and intense.

He started to stroke himself again, feeling utterly brazen — this is what he did, those nights when he was half-drunk with lust, nineteen years old and hot for his Master. And now his Master was here with him.

Obi-Wan found his voice. 'I want you to take off your cloak,' he said.

He watched avidly as Qui-Gon reached up to peel the heavy, dark material back from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor unheeded.

Then, 'Your belt,' he said, a little breathless. His hand was still working himself slowly. 'Take off your belt.'

Qui-Gon's long fingers reached for his belt, unbuckled it and slid it from his waist. Then he unwound the sash beneath it and dropped that as well.

Obi-Wan bit his lip; his skin was prickling now with energy and arousal.

'The stoles,' he managed.

Qui-Gon pulled each wide sash from his shoulders and let them fall soundlessly from his fingers. He looked barer without them, almost vulnerable without all the trappings of his work, the raiment of the Jedi Master he presented to sovereigns and politicians and rebel leaders. No one else ever saw him like this. But even in just his loose shirtsleeves and pants and his favoured, worn boots he was still a Jedi to the core. He was what Obi-Wan had always known: not just a Jedi Master but Qui-Gon, his Master, his teacher and comrade, the man who railed at the Council and laughed at terrible plays and always, always did his duty. Obi-Wan stilled his hand.

'Can you come here,' he said softly.

Of course Qui-Gon wasn't one for direct obedience. He leaned down and closed his fingers around Obi-Wan's ankle, over the soft leather of his boot, and pulled it off. He did the other one as well, and then took hold of Obi-Wan's pants and pulled them all the way off, leaving Obi-Wan naked but for the pink flush of his skin.

He didn't touch Obi-Wan, but he looked and after a moment Obi-Wan realised that Qui-Gon was waiting for some further instruction, some hint of what Obi-Wan wanted.

'Your fingers,' Obi-Wan said in a rush. 'I want to feel them in me and —' He searched for the right words. 'I can sense you, when we're close by each other, but I want to feel you physically. I want to feel you even afterwards. Where you've been.'

Qui-Gon put one knee on the bed.

'Oh,' Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon lay down alongside him. When Obi-Wan settled Qui-Gon's hand drifted down his stomach, down between his thighs and into the crease of his arse.

Obi-Wan felt his thighs jerk as Qui-Gon softly fingered him there.

'Good?' Qui-Gon asked as he kissed Obi-Wan's mouth.

'Yes,' Obi-Wan breathed.

Qui-Gon began to rub his fingers in small, slow circles. 'Shall I kiss you here too?'

'Yes, oh.' Obi-Wan's breath stuttered. 'Yes. If you like.'

'I would like,' Qui-Gon said hoarsely.

'And perhaps I could, I could suck you.'

'If you like,' Qui-Gon said, kissing Obi-Wan's throat.

'Yes,' said Obi-Wan.

'Do I get to take the rest of my clothes off?' Qui-Gon murmured as he pressed open-mouth kisses down Obi-Wan's stomach.

'No, Master,' Obi-Wan smiled, sliding one hand into Qui-Gon's hair. 'I want you like this.'

*

The next morning Obi-Wan woke to find Qui-Gon sleeping soundly beside him, both of them curved together on the small bed. He grinned to himself, a blurry, sun-drenched happiness washing over him. He felt sore and spent and wonderful.

Coruscant, he thought, ranked well above Acaste.

*

They had breakfast and an overly-long shower, after which Qui-Gon left to meet Anakin. Obi-Wan read some more of A History of New Tarlas, a text he had found in the archives, taking notes and allowing himself moments of distraction where he stared at nothing and smiled pathetically at the wall.

Later he went to the upper levels where the medical facilities were housed.

'Deimos Othule,' said the morgue attendant. 'He was a padawan to Master Belandel, but he was lost many years ago.'

'Lost?' said Obi-Wan.

'Hmm. The records show he was believed drowned in the ocean on Miende Four. His body was never recovered.'

'And his Master?'

'Killed several years later.' The attendant scrolled down her datapad. 'Yes, an explosion involving a cargo ship in the Outer Rim.'

'I see. Thank you.'

So he had been a Padawan. Deimos Othule. Obi-Wan wished he had been able to restrain him rather than kill him. Perhaps he could have brought him back to the Temple alive. Perhaps the Healers would have been able to help him.

In the archives Obi-Wan looked up the records of both Master Belandel and her padawan. Belandel had a long record of honourable service. There was less detail about Padawan Othule: Humanoid, Mandalorian by birth, apprenticed at the age of ten. He had been by his master's side until his seventeenth year, when he was swept into the Miende sea and never found.

Well, Obi-Wan had found him, but clearly much too late. The man he had fought did not seem much like the same proud young padawan pictured in the records. Whatever had happened to him between the sea and the grass plains of Sus Devour, it had not been good.

Had this been the reason for the Force's warnings, for the nightmares that had come to Obi-Wan on the planet? It seemed somehow out of proportion. Deimos was only one man, a former padawan, and yet Obi-Wan's nightmares had been consuming. Perhaps he had somehow been sensing Deimos's own torment and it had seeped into his own, troubling visions.

Obi-Wan gazed at the picture of the young Deimos standing tall and strong and bright-eyed. He wondered if there had been any sign of instability back then. There must have been something, he thought, that turned the boy's suffering into violence. And now that Deimos was dead it seemed likely he would never find out what it was.

I'm sorry, Obi-Wan thought, and closed the record.

*

Obi-Wan arrived in Qui-Gon's quarters that night none the wiser about Padawan Othule's fall. He had spent much of the afternoon in the archives, following up on Master Belandel's old mission reports, but he had found nothing suspicious, nothing that foreshadowed a turn to the Dark Side. Obi-Wan suspected those sorts of events did not always make it into official reports.

'Othule,' Qui-Gon said, closing the door. 'Yes, I remember him. The visions you had on Sus Devour, they were of him?'

'That is the interesting thing. There was someone in my visions but it was not Othule.' Obi-Wan shook off his cloak and sat down comfortably. He liked it here. Qui-Gon's quarters had a lived-in quality, easy on the eyes, populated sparsely with books — his only treasure. From beyond the walls Obi-Wan could hear a faint rumble of thunder, far off and quiet.

'And you did not know the one in your visions?'

'I did not recognise his face, yet he felt familiar. I am at a loss, I'm afraid. If the visions were not about Othule, I don't know why the Force warned me so strongly. He was only one man.'

Qui-Gon gazed thoughtfully at him. 'I almost envy you,' he said. 'I strive to live in the moment. It is the only place where we truly exist. But I'm intrigued by your glimpses of the future. Far-reaching visions are a rare gift, Obi-Wan.'

'I know I should think so.' He frowned. 'I see a great darkness, Master, and I don't know where it comes from or if I might do something to avert it. It troubles me.'

'You can do nothing to avert what you have seen. We can only attend to what is in front of us now, Obi-Wan, and heed the will of the Force. The future is out of our hands.'

Obi-Wan thought suddenly of sand and heat and loneliness: one of his recurring nightmares on Sus Devour. The vision had felt more real than a memory; it had struck a fear down deep into his bones. Wherever he had been, he had been utterly alone and utterly useless.

All these years, Obi-Wan thought silently. All the days with Qui-Gon by his side; hundreds of missions, thousands of sunsets, millions of stars, only to end up in such circumstances. A hot, barren, lonely place.

'Do you really believe that? That we cannot change the future?'

'I believe in the will of the Force.'

'But it cannot be greater than your will,' Obi-Wan pointed out. 'Why warn us if our choices do not matter?'

'No, our choices do matter. The future does not yet exist, it is shaped only by what we do in the present. That is all we have.' Qui-Gon paused. 'But to know we will face the future together — I am more pleased than I can say. I had convinced myself I would simply have to bear your absence as well as I could.'

A memory passed across Obi-Wan's mind: thirteen years old on a desolate mining planet, a desperate last chance, and Qui-Gon's voice anchoring him once and for all.

'You knew we belonged together,' he murmured. 'Now I know it too.'

Old words spoken between them on that planet. Qui-Gon's expression shifted into recognition, and then into something softer, more urgent. He learned forward and pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan's, wrapping a hand around the back of Obi-Wan's neck.

'Stay,' he breathed, so close and warm that Obi-Wan felt himself trembling at it.

'I'm going to,' Obi-Wan promised.

Qui-Gon kissed him then, deep and focused and slowly hungry.

This was a beginning. This was where he belonged. No matter what was to come, they could have this now, together. The future did not yet exist.

Obi-Wan held on tight and let his eyes fall shut, like the slow drift of water, like snow meeting earth.