SURFACING 5: At Home

"You chose to die."

Mace Windu's voice seemed to echo within the Council chamber. Obi-Wan realized this was only his imagination at work, making everything louder, more ominous. However, this knowledge did not help him fight back his increasing nervousness.

Qui-Gon answered him with enviable calm. "I chose to die in my own way rather than be executed by Gerlinn's men. I saw no other possibilities at that time."

"And yet you are here," Yaddle said. "A good tale this is, I think."

Soft laughter filled the room; even Obi-Wan was able to smile. For all the Council's exasperation with Qui-Gon's methods, they appreciated his skills and, occasionally, the unorthodox results.

Qui-Gon folded his arms within the deep sleeves of his robe. "I did not anticipate that my apprentice -- displaying more courage than sense -- would jump off the cliff after me."

Obi-Wan shot his Master a look, but Qui-Gon was still focused only on the Council. "He was able to slow our descent enough that we could survive our fall into the water, then managed to bring me to safety." The stern, official bent of his voice warmed. "I owe him my life."

"Quite an accomplishment," acknowledged Master Billaba. "Padawan Kenobi, you are to be commended for your bravery and resourcefulness."

"I deserve no commendation for doing my duty, Masters," Obi-Wan replied, cringing inwardly at the slight catch in his throat. "But I thank you for your notice."

"Add anything, would you, to your Master's report?" Yoda had remained uncharacteristically silent through Qui-Gon's brief retelling, which Obi-Wan in his paranoia found ominous. Now the wizened creature was fixing his most penetrating look upon the pair of them.

"I --" Obi-Wan glanced over at Qui-Gon again, and was grateful for the encouraging smile he received. "My Master has, I think, failed to speak of his own self-sacrifice during our mission. But that is all I would add, personally, I mean."

Master Piell raised an eyebrow at the stammering apprentice before turning his attention back to Qui-Gon. "Your report is welcomed, of course. But how did these events demand that you speak with the Council in person, and so quickly?"

"That is another matter." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "My Padawan and I have come before you to report that we have become lovers. We know that this is discouraged, and understand the reasons why very well. But we have chosen to take this path. We ask for your understanding and your guidance."

A long moment of silence followed. Obi-Wan forced himself to look squarely and soberly at the Jedi Master right in front of him -- unfortunately the sway-necked Yarael Poof, whose back-and-forth movements defied confident eye contact.

Mace Windu spoke next, calm and businesslike. "You realize, of course, we will need to speak to each of you separately. There is much we need to hear before we can make any decisions."

"Certainly." Qui-Gon was still calm, steady, sure. Obi-Wan's palms were sweaty, and his robes were hot, and he half wanted to punch his Master. How could he be so sanguine?

Yoda pushed himself from his low chair, and beckoned with one hand. "Come, Obi-Wan." Although he said nothing else, five other members of the Council rose in concert, following Yoda to his smaller room outside the Council chamber.

Obi-Wan glanced once more at Qui-Gon; his Master had stepped forward, placing himself before Master Windu's chair, looking only at the Council members he meant to face. Which, of course, left Obi-Wan to face the other half of the Council alone, without even a word of encouragement, a gesture of support.

Then again, he should be ready to do that much by now, shouldn't he?

The younger man stepped into Yoda's antechamber, a room designed for the old Master's comfort and virtually no one else's. The ceiling was low -- not so much that Obi-Wan had to stoop, but still somewhat oppressive. Instead of chairs, there were thick cushions on the floor; the Council members were settling there now with varying degrees of ease. "Sit, young Padawan," Yoda said. "No need of formality now." He watched Obi-Wan carefully as the apprentice sat before them. "How feel you?" "Uneasy," Obi-Wan admitted. "A little embarrassed that you all know something so intimate. But I am relieved to have the matter out in the open."

"Secrecy troubles you?" Adi Gallia asked.

"Of course. It is dishonesty," he replied.

"So simple it seems to you," Yoda said.

"None of this seems simple to me, Master." Several of the Council members glanced sideways at each other before Master Tiin leaned forward.

"You do understand that you might reject your Master without any fear of reprisal?" Tiin's face, between his massive horns, looked unexpectedly concerned.

"I understand that very well, but I have no desire to reject him. In truth, I have been the one who has pursued this; Qui-Gon resisted the change in our relationship, fearing that it would threaten my training."

"And yet here you are," Master Billaba said.

"He believes that I have demonstrated my independence these last months. Naturally there are still great risks, but Qui-Gon feels -- and I feel -- that I have earned the right to accept them."

There was a moment of silence as the Council weighed his words. Yoda finally spoke. "Long has this troubled you, young Padawan. When began all this?"

"I have loved him for a very long time, as most Padawans desire their Masters. But I knew that my feelings were deeper; they did not fade with time, as they do for most. Qui-Gon and I first became lovers on our mission to Iloh, some five months ago. That was an impulsive act. In retrospect, I suppose it should never have taken place. But I cannot regret it. Although we were not intimate again until very recently, we have been able to talk about what we wanted, what we feared. The last months have not been without misunderstandings; we have caused each other great pain at times," Obi-Wan admitted. "But I think we are stronger now than we were before."

Another pause followed, long enough to make Obi-Wan even more uneasy. Master Loka slowly growled out a question -- one that threw Obi-Wan off-guard.

"If I had to choose? Choose between what?" "If Qui-Gon could be play but one role in your life now, which would you choose?" Eeth Koth asked. "Would you have him as your Master or as your lover?"

Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist. But he cleared his mind, turned his thoughts to her question. After a few seconds, he knew the answer -- but had to wait seconds more before he could bring himself to give it. "I would have him as my lover. He is the best of Masters, and has taught me so much -- I would hate to cease being his Padawan for any reason save my Knighthood. But to live and work alongside him and deny what we feel would constitute the deepest kind of dishonesty. That is why we chose this path -- we had no other choice, none that would let us be true to ourselves and each other."

This, apparently, concluded the interview; the Council members rose in unison, but when Obi-Wan moved to do likewise, Yoda gestured him back down with his gimer stick. "Stay here for now, Obi-Wan. Confer, the Council must."

"Is that all?" Obi-Wan had expected more questions, a mind-probe, a test of his skills -- something else, anyway. His mind flashed back to rumors he'd heard from other apprentices, stories that the Council asked lovers to perform sexually before them, in order to evaluate whether the emotions between them were true --

Obi-Wan realized he'd been broadcasting that last thought a bit too much. Yoda was staring at him, ears akimbo, face unamused. "Strange ideas about the Jedi Council have you," the Master said.

Heat flushed in Obi-Wan's cheeks as Yoda turned to go. His mortification was diminished only slightly by the fact that he could hear Yoda laughing softly as he left.

However, he was relieved to have a little privacy, a chance to collect his thoughts. He'd been alone for no more than a few minutes since that horrible night -- could it have been only five days ago? -- when Qui-Gon had been held captive. Not had he had any chance to be alone with his Master since their one night on Louar; the transport ship was a spare and efficient vessel, with passenger cabins that slept twenty on bunks almost to narrow to sit upon.

Still, they'd had the odd second or two, in corridors or corners, to take each others' hands, or steal a too-brief kiss --

"I can't quite catch the tenor of your thoughts, Obi-Wan -- but I sense enough to hope that I am a part of them."

Qui-Gon walked through the door, stooping under the low ceiling until he knelt by his apprentice's side. Obi-Wan smiled as he reached out to touch his Master's face. "Always."

"How did it go?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

The younger man shrugged. "Difficult to say. I had anticipated something else. Something more. They asked me very few questions."

"They asked me none," Qui-Gon said. "Mace delivered a blistering sermon on the dangers of Master/Padawan relationships. I gave my best reasons for thinking these dangers would not destroy us. And then Yoda returned and sent me in here. Somewhat anticlimactic, don't you think?" Qui-Gon ran one hand through Obi-Wan's hair, soothing and gentle.

"There was one question in particular that I am concerned about, Master."

"And what is that?"

"They wanted to know what my choice would be, if I could have you as either Master or lover."

"It's an interesting question," Qui-Gon said. "I am curious about your answer."

"I said that I wanted you for my lover." Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon's face; although his expression did not change, he could feel the inner response. "That's not what you would have had me say, is it?"

"I would only have you tell the truth. To the Council and to me."

"But you wish that weren't the truth."

Qui-Gon sighed. "If asked the same question, I would have given a different answer. But your feelings are your own, Obi-Wan. Do not try to shape them to my wishes."

"I don't want to have to choose," Obi-Wan said, taking his Master's hand in his own. "What do you think they will do?"

"I do not think they would separate us entirely," Qui-Gon said. "But we may have to accept your choice."

Obi-Wan felt his throat constrict. "I don't know how I could ever work with another Master. It would take years for me to trust someone else as I trust you. If I ever could."

"You would learn," Qui-Gon said. "But I should hate to be parted from you in any way."

Their eyes met as Qui-Gon lifted his hands to Obi-Wan's face and tilted his chin up to accept a kiss. Obi-Wan warmed to the gentle touch, opened his mouth; they were absolutely in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the act of kissing Qui-Gon was still so electric, so new --

He felt the Council's summons, a mental beckoning, even as Qui-Gon released him. "Let's go, then," Qui-Gon said, rising as much as he could under Yoda's roof. When Obi-Wan remained seated for a moment longer, his Master offered a hand to pull him up. "Courage, Padawan. Whatever happens in there -- nothing really changes. Not between us. You know that."

Obi-Wan smiled as he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, then followed Qui-Gon back into the Council chamber.

"That didn't take long," Qui-Gon said, a faint challenge in his voice, as they took their places in the center of the room.

"Think you we would reject this without much thought, much care?" Yoda scowled. "Then you think wrongly, Qui-Gon. Complicated, this is. Not a matter to be decided quickly."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked.

Master Gallia answered him. "We mean that the proof of your love for one another is not a matter that we can know -- or that you can know -- in a day, or a month or maybe even a year. The two of you will have to discover your own path together. The Council sees no need to interfere in the decisions you have made so far."

Obi-Wan could not repress a smile. Mace Windu, perhaps catching sight of that grin, steepled his hands. "However, we must insist on some safeguards. Your apprentice's training must not be compromised by this, Qui-Gon."

"In that we agree," Qui-Gon replied. "To what safeguards do you refer?"

"First, we will arrange to test Obi-Wan's progress independently every two or three months," Master Piell said. "In the past, Masters have sometimes been blinded by their affections and overestimated the abilities of loved Padawans. Others have downplayed those abilities, subconsciously trying to keep the Padawans at their side longer. You are not one likely to fall into such error, Qui-Gon, but we must be vigilant."

Obi-Wan kept his composure, but his happiness was soaring ever higher. So much worry, so much fear, and in the end it was all so simple. A lightsaber duel every three months, some Jedi koans to ponder -- such simple currency to purchase something so dear.

"Second," Master Tiin said, "You must swear to keep this part of your relationship secret, save in situations where dishonesty would be dangerous."

"You find secrecy troubling," Master Gallia said, addressing Obi-Wan directly. "This speaks of your forthright nature, Padawan learner. But you must learn that sometimes the truth is best served by silence."

"Forgive me, Masters," Obi-Wan said, "but how can this be? You require us to deceive those closest to us."

"And who are they, hmmm?" Master Yaddle thumped her chewing stick on the side of her chair. "Masters and Padawans. What they learn, the whole Temple knows."

"Consider the results of that knowledge," Master Koth said. "You spoke yourself of the ubiquitous apprentice's infatuation with a Master. In almost every case, such an infatuation is best put aside quickly. To have a Master and Padawan known to be romantically involved, especially two so well-known throughout our number -- this would encourage such infatuations immeasurably. Very few are meant to travel your path. We cannot afford to send a message that suggests otherwise."

"In the past, such relationships have not been kept secret. There is more to this matter than you are telling us," Qui-Gon said.

A moment of silence followed his words. Then Yoda nodded slowly. "Your perception serves you well, Qui-Gon. Dangerous this is, at this time. No more will we say."

Mace Windu quickly changed the subject. "Our final condition is this: as we will be the ones monitoring Obi-Wan's progress, we will be the ones to call for his Trials."

Obi-Wan went cold. For eleven years he had imagined the moment when Qui-Gon would present him to the Council as one ready to be tested for Knighthood. That moment was one of the most sacred and revered in the Master/Padawan relationship; the Knighting ceremony was a public thing, shaped by ritual, but the call for the Trials -- that was private, personal, the true last act of a Master. To have that stolen away --

He thought for a moment Qui-Gon would protest; instead, his Master sighed heavily, then nodded. "If that is how you would have it."

"So burdened, you think yourselves," Yoda said, mouth puckering in a sarcastic expression. "But necessary this is, if you will but see it."

Depa Billaba leaned forward a little and -- alone among the Council -- smiled. "You know the dangers you face, and might well wonder why the Council does not simply forbid such relationships. We do not because of cases like yours. Where the Master and Padawan truly love one another, yet retain their commitment to the Jedi Order -- the Force may be more truly served there than anywhere else. Love is the essence of all we do, all we are," she said, her voice low and musical. "But love does not require less care. It requires more. Our conditions are meant to protect more than the career of one fledgling Knight. We mean to protect what you have found together. Help us in this."

Obi-Wan relaxed a little, and Qui-Gon returned Master Billaba's smile. "We shall do so, and we thank you all for your counsel."

"That will be all," Master Windu said.

No sooner had they exited the Council chambers than Qui-Gon began to laugh. "To think we spent days in mortal fear of that." Obi-Wan would have liked to join in the laughter but could not quite manage it; noticing his apprentice's mood, Qui-Gon asked, "What's bothering you?"

"The other conditions -- Master, I do not mind them, but the call for Trials --"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "That was hard. I do not pretend to like it, and I suppose I never shall. But all in all, you must admit we fared well."

Obi-Wan nodded as they stopped before the lift that would take them back to the levels for their living quarters. "You're right. It will just take me some time to get used to the idea."

Qui-Gon accepted that with equanimity, nodding slightly as they got into the lift. His calm, unworried visage was the model of a serene Jedi Master, at least until the lift doors closed around them.

Then, he caught Obi-Wan up in his arms and kissed him. Not softly, as he had earlier, but passionately, hungrily. Qui-Gon held him so tightly Obi-Wan would have gasped, if he could only breathe -- but he couldn't really, not with Qui-Gon devouring him, pushing his tongue inside Obi-Wan's mouth, pulling their bodies together fiercely.

Obi-Wan responded eagerly, burying his hands in Qui-Gon's hair as he tilted his head to the side, changing the angle of the kiss. Moaning roughly, Qui-Gon leaned him against the side of the lift and ran his hands down Obi-Wan's body. Flushed with pleasure and surprise, Obi-Wan traced a path down Qui-Gon's chest as he pulled his mouth away. "So, now you're going to impress me with your youthful vigor?"

"That's the idea," Qui-Gon said.

"I'm already impressed."

"Then why don't we -- just go back -- to my quarters -- and make up for lost time?" Qui-Gon whispered, between kisses down Obi-Wan's throat.

"Yes. Oh, yes." Obi-Wan kissed Qui-Gon's mouth once more, reveling in the freedom to touch, to taste, to act. After so many months of frustrated desire, the liberty alone was overwhelming; Obi-Wan's heart was beating so wildly that he could feel his pulse in his fingertips, his stomach, his face. At last, he thought, at last we're truly free.

As the lift slowed, they pulled apart; some hurried smoothing of hair and readjusting of robes made them both laugh. Obi-Wan realized he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and forced himself to stop; all that nervous energy could be put to much better use very soon.

The doors slid open, revealing Master Anomi; her face lit up in delight. "Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan! I was just going to inquire whether you'd returned yet."

Obi-Wan sighed, but kept a welcoming smile on his face; Anomi was a good friend to them both, even if she had chosen a terrible time to say hello.

"Only just," Qui-Gon said. "We had a rather exhausting trip back on a cargo ship; you know how it is. But of course, it's good to be home."

Anomi shook her head as she patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder with one paw. "You're just in time. I'd thought we weren't going to have a chance to pull this off, what with my trip to Malastair, and Crellon taking Bant to Dinwa Prime tomorrow --"

Qui-Gon cocked his head to one side. "Pull what off?"

The realization hit Obi-Wan, and he closed his eyes to keep from actually wincing.

"I don't believe it -- you forgot, didn't you?" Anomi shook her furry head as she laughed. "You invited us all for dinner the first night we were all available. Which is tonight. In, oh, about an hour. We're all coming. And I want to hear all about Louar -- you must have had quite a time, if you forgot this."

"At least my Padawan remembered to send the invitation that morning," Qui-Gon said, looking skyward. "His presence of mind obviously exceeds my own."

"Careless of me," Obi-Wan said. "Not to remind you, I mean."

"No matter. We'll keep our culinary expectations low," Anomi said, getting into the lift at last. "See you soon."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon kept smiling at her until the lift doors slid shut.

"Padawan, have I ever told you that you're too damned efficient?"

Obi-Wan shot him a sideways look. "I'll remember to be more forgetful in the future."

As soon as they walked into Qui-Gon's quarters, Obi-Wan let himself swear. "Of all the damned times --"

"Patience, Padawan. Didn't you tell me you've spent the last few months meditating on the 'each thing in its turn' koan?"

"Yes, and if I never hear it again, it will be too soon. I have been patient for months, Qui-Gon; I want no more of it. I want you." With that, Obi-Wan pushed Qui-Gon into the nearby bedroom, then down upon the bed. The sight of his Master sprawled out, lying beneath him, made Obi-Wan smile softly. As he straddled Qui-Gon, he whispered, "An hour is more than enough time, after all."

"We have dinner to make, a table to prepare, perhaps a little tidying up to do --" Qui-Gon's voice showed more resolution than his hands, which were moving slowly over each plane of Obi-Wan's body. "That will take most of that hour."

"We'd still have time if we were quick," Obi-Wan said, dipping his head down for another kiss.

"If we were very fast?" Qui-Gon asked. His breath was warm against Obi-Wan's lips.

"Fast -- and hard, perhaps," Obi-Wan suggested. "I think I would like that." He took Qui-Gon's hands in his own and pushed them down against the bed as he kissed Qui-Gon once more.

Qui-Gon returned the kiss for a few long moments, long enough to make Obi-Wan believe he'd won this particular argument. But as soon as their lips parted, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Tonight I want to take my time with you," he murmured. "It's only a matter of hours, Obi-Wan. I think you will find it worth the wait."

With that he rolled Obi-Wan over and pinned him, bracing his arms on Obi-Wan's shoulders. Obi-Wan groaned in frustration and shifted his body beneath Qui-Gon's to feel that strength, that weight -- and perhaps also to test Qui-Gon's patience. "You are very cruel, Master."

"Anticipation has its own pleasures, as you'll see. And should you really be calling me Master when we're in bed together?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "It's more true then than ever."

"We'll debate that some other time. For now, your Master is giving you an order." Qui-Gon swung his feet off the bed, suddenly collected and calm once more. "Tidy this place up a bit while I go to the market level."

With a thespian's melodramatic sigh, Obi-Wan rose from the bed. "Yes, Master."

The housecleaning took almost enough energy to distract Obi-Wan from his acute frustration. Qui-Gon was disorganized to an extent Obi-Wan's ordered mind found all but inconceivable. Most Temple chambers were spare, even ascetic; Qui-Gon, fond of keeping small souvenirs of his travels, had what were easily the most cluttered and colorful rooms in the entire Order. He had tapestries hung on the walls and draped over the couches, a dozen tiny statues or icons (all of which were tricky to dust) and bizarre little oddities from all over. Books were not shelved, but left in the places Qui-Gon liked to sit and read. Half-finished projects -- scraps of parchment, pens of illuminating ink, softstone and carving tools -- lay about as well.

Obi-Wan thought Qui-Gon's rooms were beautiful, warm and welcoming. But he primarily thought this when he wasn't engaged in cleaning them.

"You're like a bird building a nest," Obi-Wan said, lifting up a cheap little lamp that burned oil for its flame. "There is no scrap too humble for you to keep and prize."

"Beauty in all things, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied as he leaned out from the kitchen. Obi-Wan continued about his work, but realized after a moment that Qui-Gon was still watching him. When he looked up again and raised one eyebrow, Qui-Gon said, "I suppose you might want to arrange it all differently, maybe make some room for your own things. If you do, that's fine -- just let me know where everything ends up."

Obi-Wan couldn't stop himself from grinning. "You want me to move back into the Padawan's room," he said, referring to the small cubby in Qui-Gon's chambers that he had once inhabited.

"Well, you'd move your things into the Padawan's room. I was hoping you'd be more amenable to staying with me."

"Can we do that without giving ourselves away?"

"I think so, if you seem to make the change gradually." There was a pause before Qui-Gon added, "Only if you want to, Padawan. Don't let me press you."

"I would like that very much," Obi-Wan said, trying to turn his attention back to the lamp but failing. His delight at the invitation was almost overwhelming; he wanted to run Qui-Gon and embrace him. But that was for later -- instead, he settled on a safer topic. "I've missed staying here. The Padawan levels aren't quite so luxurious."

Qui-Gon had gone back to his own labors, but called from the kitchen, "I remember that well. After I got to be more than five feet tall, staying in Yoda's quarters wasn't very comfortable -- but there were days on the Padawan levels when Yoda's low ceilings didn't seem so bad. Of course, you probably put your time down there to better use than I did."

"Master? What do you mean?"

"Well. You moved out because you needed a little privacy, didn't you?"

Obi-Wan put the lamp down and went to the kitchen door, bracing his hands on either side. "Privacy?"

Qui-Gon didn't look up from his cooking. "For you and Prie," he said evenly.

"You were jealous," Obi-Wan said, grinning.

Qui-Gon did look up at that. "Naturally, I was jealous," he admitted. "But I wanted you to be happy. You certainly seemed to be." Qui-Gon smiled a bit. "The two of you, running off together every chance you got --"

"Which wasn't that often. We were on Coruscant at the same time on perhaps six occasions that whole year --"

"There is no need for you to deny it, Obi-Wan. I know myself to be a selfish old man, but I would never have begrudged you your first love."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You were my first love. My only love."

"You're not being very gallant towards Prie," Qui-Gon said, belying the satisfaction in his eyes.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to explain what his relationship with Prie had truly been, but stopped himself. That was Prie's secret as much as his own. Instead he said, "It's nothing more than the truth."

A truth better served by silence. Adi Gallia's words echoed in his mind, and he frowned, wishing he had a few moments to meditate on this unexpected discovery.

Instead, he had cleaning left to do and a lover who was looking at him very strangely. "Are you certain that's all there is to the matter?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"Very certain, Master." Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly. "What about you? Who was your first love?"

"Oh, my," Qui-Gon said, turning back to his cooking. "I've not thought of her in the longest time. Nelisse Jonvil."

He said her name slowly, as if tasting the words he spoke. Obi-Wan felt a cold splash of jealousy; it was jolting to hear another spoken of so warmly. He kept his voice even as he asked, "Was she another Padawan?"

"No. Nelisse was already a young Knight when I met her. She was, and is, a fine diplomat; she traveled with Yoda and me to Corellia for some tricky negotiations. Poor Yoda. He thought he was getting an extra assistant, and instead he might as well have had neither of us along, distracted as we were," Qui-Gon chuckled.

Obi-Wan tried to look worldly and unconcerned, but inwardly he was cringing. It was wrong of him, of course, to want Qui-Gon to have lived a long life without love, not to mention unrealistic. But it was strange to realize that Qui-Gon had been in love with someone before Obi-Wan was even born.

Qui-Gon looked over at him, then came to take him in his arms. "Obi-Wan. Don't be as big a fool as your Master. Jealousy seems rather irrelevant now, don't you think?"

Returning the hug, Obi-Wan said, "Not necessarily. Now is when I have the most to lose."

"You can't seriously think that Nelisse would still be a factor --"

"No, of course not. That's not what I mean," Obi-Wan replied. "Qui-Gon, I have never done this before. Never loved anyone and tried to share his life. I worry about that. I don't want to lose you to my own inexperience."

Qui-Gon rubbed Obi-Wan's back in slow, soothing circles. "Strange thing about love, Obi-Wan. It's new every time, and we are all perpetual beginners." He kissed Obi-Wan's forehead, then his cheek, then his lips.

Taking advantage of the gentle touch, Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon closer. They kissed again, more warmly this time, and Obi-Wan moaned softly; at the sound, Qui-Gon shivered slightly in his arms.

Obi-Wan leaned back just long enough to whisper, "Don't we have work to do?"

"To hell with it," Qui-Gon said, tugging Obi-Wan back into a kiss. Obi-Wan's amusement lasted only until Qui-Gon slid his tongue into his mouth; after that, he could only concentrate on his Master's body. On his touch, the hands that were moving down his back, sending chills and heat coursing through him. On the taste of his lips, devouring him hungrily over and over --

The door chime rang; Qui-Gon broke their kiss, but remained holding Obi-Wan for a moment longer, until they broke apart to smooth their rumpled clothes. "I don't suppose we could send them to a restaurant with our good wishes," Obi-Wan said, only half joking.

"Don't tempt me," Qui-Gon answered.

Halfway through the dinner, just at the point when Obi-Wan would've thought he would die of frustration, he had to admit he was enjoying himself.

Not as much as he would have been enjoying himself if he'd been left alone with Qui-Gon, of course. But he had told Qui-Gon the truth on Louar; it had been too long since they had gathered together with their friends. The warmth of friendship and laughter surrounding them now seemed only to enhance the tie between the two of them.

Of course, he couldn't quite look Qui-Gon in the face without flushing red. And it was hard sometimes to concentrate on the stories people told while Qui-Gon sat there, so close, lifting a wineglass to the lips Obi-Wan longed to kiss, brushing aside the stray lock of hair Obi-Wan had so wanted to touch --

Obi-wan caught himself, and tried to listen to Bant a little more closely.

"And so, my good Master goes up to the captain of the Celk," Bant said, flushing blue-green with amusement and anticipation. Next to her, Master Crellon rested his chin on his hand, patiently awaiting the end of the tale. "He explains how he has asked every member of the ship's senior staff for information and been refused, then straightens himself up like so." Bant managed to twist her lithe form into a fair approximation of Crellon's bulky build, eliciting more laughter from those around the table. "And then he asks how he can possibly conduct an investigation under these circumstances."

"What did the captain say?" asked Reeft.

"He said -- 'what investigation?' It turns out we were on the wrong ship the whole time." Bant dissolved into giggles as her audience laughed. "The Velk. We were supposed to be on the Velk," Crellon explained, as soon as he could get a word in. "It's a simple enough mistake."

"Of course it is," Qui-Gon said, twisting his mouth slightly in an effort not to smile.

"I asked the man why he boarded us and gave us rooms in the first place," Crellon said. "He said, 'You're Jedi. I figured you had your reasons.' Which just goes to show why respect can sometimes be a bad thing."

"The Velk was headed to Alderaan -- nice, short hop. The Celk was headed to Dantooine. We were the better part of a month getting back," Bant said. "The Council was not amused."

"Nor was the captain of the Velk," Crellon admitted. "It's been a while since I felt at that much of a loss."

Master Linea shook her head, brushing aside her red-gold hair. "That's almost as bad as the time I proclaimed the annunciation of the Exalted Queen of Tatuar."

"What was wrong with that?" Obi-Wan asked.

Her Padawan Dalam answered, smiling affectionately at Linea as he did so. "Because it was actually the Exalted King of Tatuar. The regent-elect had switched genders overnight."

Amid the general amusement, Obi-Wan slipped into the kitchen to get dessert ready to serve. He heard Reeft ask plaintively, "If you aren't going to finish that, would you mind if I had some?"

"He never stops," Qui-Gon whispered as he stepped into the kitchen as well.

"No. We'll have to inform the astrophysics fellows that we have discovered the universal constant -- Reeft's appetite." Obi-Wan kept his voice casual even as he ran one fingertip along the back of Qui-Gon's hand.

Just the brief touch sparked desire in Qui-Gon's eyes again, and Obi-Wan felt his own response warm him. Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed Obi-Wan very gently, very slowly, tracing his tongue across Obi-Wan's lips as though they had all the time and privacy in the world, instead of laughing friends only a few feet away.

Finally their mouths parted, and Obi-Wan took a long, shuddering breath. "Just a little while longer," Qui-Gon said quietly. Unable to respond, Obi-Wan nodded, then handed the cake to Qui-Gon to take to the others. He took a moment to collect himself. The suspense was intoxicating, in its own way. Suppressing a grin, Obi-Wan straightened and followed his Master back into the outer room.

Anomi clapped her paws together. "We must have a toast to our good hosts for our dinner, and for the suggestion that we come together once more."

"Hear, hear," said Crellon, lifting a wineglass.

"Then we need another toast to our guests for reminding us about the invitation," Qui-Gon said. "Although you've shaded the truth a bit, Anomi. You said tonight was the only night everyone could attend, but we have missing friends. Trel's nowhere to be found --"

"Haven't you heard?" Linea said. "Your former Padawan continues to do great things. The people of Gildi Major have asked for her to stay on a while longer; she did such a good job with the planetary unification treaty that they want her to remain as an observer for the elections."

"I bet she could be elected, if she ran," Reeft joked.

"Probably so," Qui-Gon said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Linea cut him off once more.

"What about you two? You've had quite a wild time of it lately. When will you get a chance to rest?" She asked it easily enough, but Obi-Wan knew her well enough to know when she was covering something.

Qui-Gon said, "I cannot speak for my Padawan, but I should have ample opportunity soon, I think. Tomorrow I am putting Obi-Wan on cleaning duty."

A silence followed his words, during which Obi-Wan could only look at his plate in combined disquiet and pleasure. Cleaning duty was undertaken by Padawans at only two points in their training: at the very first, when their new status was likely to go to their head, and at the very end. A Master often assigned cleaning duty for an older Padawan as a signal, to both the apprentice and the temple at large, that the Padawan was approaching Knighthood. The lowly nature of the task emphasized humility and patience and served in its own way as a test of character.

Obi-Wan was proud of his Master's announcement; however, he knew well that Qui-Gon meant more by the gesture. He meant to put their community on notice of his faith in Obi-Wan's ability -- and, by extension, the Council. Obi-Wan understood well Qui-Gon's need to challenge the Council's new control over his apprentice; he questioned the wisdom of giving in to it.

It is not my decision to make, Obi-Wan reminded himself. I can only perform the tasks to the best of my ability, and so prove the truth of his beliefs.

"Well. Congratulations, Padawan Kenobi -- I'd best call you that now while I can, hmm?" Crellon said.

"The congratulations are more than a little premature, Master Crellon, but I thank you all the same," Obi-Wan said. "I shall no doubt need the encouragement tomorrow when I'm mopping up in the creche."

"Now, let's move on to the topic you are all not-so-subtly trying to avoid," Qui-Gon said. "Where are Martial and Prie?"

Linea frowned. "I don't think we need to discuss this."

"In front of us, you mean," Dalam said, displaying the closest thing to rebellion Obi-Wan had ever seen in his soft-spoken friend. "But it is discussed everywhere, Master. On the Padawan levels as well."

"We needn't discuss the matter," Qui-Gon said. "But I do want it explained. Where are they?"

Anomi took a deep breath. "They've been separated by the Council at Prie's request."

"What?" Obi-Wan said, caught up short by the news. "Why?"

"Apparently they had begun an affair some time ago," Crellon explained. "Stupid business. Anyway, when things began going wrong between them, Martial couldn't accept it."

"She says he has been bending her mind and will for months," Anomi said. "At least that's what I hear. Whatever it is she accuses him of, he admits it. There's talk that he may have to leave the Order."

Crellon shook his head. "Never understood why they don't just officially forbid such -- fraternization. Anyone with any sense knows it's a violation of everything we stand for. A few of us have gone to the Council about it, but you know how they hem and haw and say everything without saying anything."

"You are disrespectful, Crellon. I think this subject should be closed." Master Linea folded her arms in front of her. "The question is between them and before the Council. Anything more than this is gossip, and beneath us."

"You're so dry, Linea," Anomi said. "We're adults here, even this hungry little Padawan of mine. Surely we can talk about this maturely. Your Dalam's right. Insane to pretend it isn't there when the whole Temple is talking of it."

"The Temple rushes to judge," Linea replied. "Martial and Prie are both being made the exemplars of our darkest fears. It is inappropriate."

"Linea's right," Qui-Gon said, his voice betraying nothing apart from natural concern. The others would think his Master's pallor was only concern for a friend; they'd probably attribute Obi-Wan's own shaking hands as worry for his former lover. At least he hoped so.

Qui-Gon continued: "The curiosity of others in the Temple is perhaps natural. But we have been friends to them both for many years, and we should reserve judgment accordingly."

Anomi's fur ruffled slightly at the lecture. Dalam sighed in frustration and won a sharp glance from Linea. Bant shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Obi-Wan wanted desperately to look into Qui-Gon's eyes for reassurance -- but was not certain that was what he would find.

After a moment, Reeft asked, "So, are we going to eat the cake?"

"What's with your Master anyway?" Bant asked as she ran her webbed fingers across the da'latha's strings, creating a faintly discordant hum.

Dalam shook his head as he sat behind the mallillo drums. "Linea means well. I know that. But she seems to think the whole thing will just go away if we pretend it isn't there." He began tapping out a soft rhythm on the drums, the pattern to no known song, just something low and soothing.

Bant tried to match his rhythm with the da'latha, but, lacking Dalam's musical expertise, was unable to do more than strum along. "Crellon sat me down and had a long talk about the responsibilities of a Master. Like this was still an issue between us; gods, I can't even believe I ever had a crush on the guy. Maybe taste only arrives after puberty," she laughed, her silvery voice ringing out in the excellent acoustics of the music room.

"Listen to you. You used to think the suns and moons revolved around him," Dalam said.

"Don't misunderstand me. I think he's a wonderful man, and I love him dearly," Bant said, her face serious for only a few seconds before she grinned again. "I just can't believe I ever wanted to do him."

"You're one to talk, Dalam. You went on about Linea day and night; you were almost as bad as Obi-Wan was about Qui-Gon," Reeft said; he was in the corner, hefting a gueton horn experimentally. "How do you play this thing anyway?"

"Forget about it, Reeft," Bant replied. "You need two mouths to do it properly. Although, the way you eat, I'm surprised you don't have two."

Dalam leaned over the drums, his dark skin flushed a little darker at Reeft's comment. "In truth, I still believe Linea's the most beautiful woman I know. I'm just old enough to know that it would never work. Besides, it wouldn't exactly help me with my training, which is what I'm supposed to be concentrating on anyway."

"You are awfully quiet over there, Obi-Wan," Bant said.

"I suppose I'm still very shocked," Obi-Wan answered.

When their gathering had come to its awkward end, Obi-Wan had realized that the Masters, save for Linea, intended to stay behind -- no doubt to discuss Martial and Prie -- and that the Padawans intended to go out for the exact same reason. Qui-Gon had quietly motioned for him to go; neither of them could easily extricate themselves from the situation. Obi-Wan wondered if his Master shared his own newfound paranoia that the others would suspect their relationship.

He also wondered if Qui-Gon shared his need to absorb what he had just learned.

Bant had wanted to go to a nightclub, Dalam to the speeder races, and Reeft to a nearby restaurant. Obi-Wan had vetoed every suggestion, as he knew the clamor of being in public would give him no chance to think; his flimsy reasons had somehow managed to convince his friends to stay within the Temple. And so they had found their way to one of the music rooms. If anyone came in to practice, they would have to go -- but this was a children's room, with a dozen instruments lying about, unlikely to be disturbed before the next official lesson.

Despite Obi-Wan's attempts to disguise his gloom by examining the other da'latha, his friends were obviously aware of his mood -- if not the cause. "I'm sorry," Bant said, squeezing his shoulder. "We're sitting here joking about it, and it really isn't a matter for joking."

"We all know how you felt about Prie," Reeft said. "You must be worried."

"I am," Obi-Wan said. "Could we go see her?"

The others exchanged glances; Dalam's fingers paused on the drums, and the room fell entirely silent. "She's pushed everyone away," Dalam said. "But you might have better luck on your own. You ought to try." After a moment, he picked the rhythm up again, but a bit more slowly this time.

"Do you suppose Martial was why she broke it off with you?" Bant said. "Don't give me that look; you two always said it was a mutual thing, but you were the one going around looking glum."

"Possibly. But I really don't know," Obi-Wan said.

As he had at least a dozen times before, Obi-Wan pushed out with his feelings, trying to get a sense of what Qui-Gon was doing and whether or not he was alone. This time, though, Qui-Gon wordlessly beckoned him. Obi-Wan stood up so quickly that the others all stared.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just not able to do this right now."

They all smiled, so instantly understanding that Obi-Wan despised himself for the half-lie. "When you talk to Prie, tell her we all miss her. And we are here when she wants us," Dalam said.

Obi-Wan nodded as he turned to go.

The Jedi Temple was uncharacteristically quiet. Obi-Wan jogged through the corridors in perfect solitude, an experience he had almost never had. It was both somewhat eerie and reassuring; strange though it might be, it meant he and Qui-Gon could reunite without need of any explanations.

The door to Qui-Gon's chambers slid open as soon as he hit the chime; Qui-Gon must have been waiting right there for him. But instead of the eager embrace Obi-Wan would have expected, he was greeted with only a gesture inside. Come to think of it, he hadn't exactly thrown himself at Qui-Gon, either.

"You're frightened," Qui-Gon said.

"As are you," Obi-Wan said.

"As we should be. We always knew something like this was possible, Obi-Wan; I hate to think that we had to see two of our dearest friends fall prey to it in order to believe it was real."

Obi-Wan sat down heavily upon a low couch; Qui-Gon sat next to him, not touching him in any way but comforting just through his presence. They remained there for a few long minutes, each caught up in his own thoughts. Through his confusion, Obi-Wan was grateful for the ease in which they could sit in silence.

Obi-Wan spoke first. "I did not lie to you before; I was never in love with Prie. But knowing that she has endured something like this -- it makes me angry. I try to turn from it, but there it is."

"Angry at Martial?"

"Of course." Obi-Wan said.

"Remember what Linea said earlier. We must not judge until we know the truth in its fullness. When we do, we may not need to judge. I do not doubt that Martial has done wrong. But he is a man, flawed like any other, and perhaps no less our friend for it."

"But such a betrayal --"

"Obi-Wan, consider what you are saying. There are those -- even among our friends who just left -- who would say that I am betraying you in much the same way."

"They would be wrong," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon looked down into his face, his blue eyes touched with sadness. "Would they?"

Even as Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer, the door chime rang. Obi-Wan groaned as Qui-Gon looked skyward and quietly cursed. "Damn it all."

"What should I do?" Obi-Wan asked.

"We could probably come up with a perfectly valid reason for you to have come back here," Qui-Gon said. "But I would prefer not to lie any more than necessary."

"I'll duck in the Padawan's room," Obi-Wan said. "I need to see how my things will fit in there anyway."

Qui-Gon smiled crookedly as he went to the door.

Obi-Wan stepped inside his old room and pulled the door all but shut behind him. The thin crack would let him hear well enough to know when to come out again and offered enough light for him to get a look --

-- at a room so filled with junk as to make the rest of Qui-Gon's quarters seem empty and sterile. Obi-Wan stifled a groan as he took in the shadowy forms of storage trunks, piled blankets and some strange bits and pieces of statuary. I would not even have room for my clothes, he thought, before smiling slightly as he wondered whether that was Qui-Gon's whole idea.

Obi-Wan shifted aside a blanket to sit on his old bunk, prepared to endure five minutes of boredom -- then froze as he recognized the new voice in the outer room.

"I thank you for seeing me," Martial said. "There are those who won't any longer."

"You've been my friend these many years," Qui-Gon answered. "I cannot say that what I've heard did not dismay me. But I would hear the truth as you see it."

"How good you are, Qui-Gon. You think I could have some reason, any reason, to justify myself. You have too much faith in me."

"There's no such thing as too much faith," Qui-Gon said gently. "Only in faith ill-placed."

"Let us see what you think, then, of how you have placed your trust, after you hear what I have to say."

Well, Obi-Wan thought, this is going to take far more than a few minutes. Although he was alive with curiosity about what Martial would say, and almost angry enough to burst through the door and demand his own explanation, he realized he would do better to leave the two Masters to their privacy.

Which would have been much easier if Qui-Gon hadn't stacked boxes in front of the door that led to the hallway outside. As matters stood now, Obi-Wan's only possible exit was through Qui-Gon's chambers -- which would involve explanations neither of them wanted to make.

There was nothing for it but for him to clear his path to the hallway. Obi-Wan moved as quietly as he could to the outside door, and gingerly lifted the first box. Although he truly meant not to eavesdrop, he could not help hearing the conversation from the next room.

"Why did you never speak of this before, Martial? Did the Council forbid it?"

"No. We never spoke to the Council -- my first mistake," Martial said. His voice was rougher than Obi-Wan remembered it; he sounded older, tired.

"Then why didn't you tell me? Did you tell anyone?"

"We did not know how you would all react. It seemed safer to go on our own for a while."

"But for how long --"

"The better part of a year. And at first, Qui-Gon, at first -- we truly were happy. I thought we were, anyway. She didn't agree, or she stopped agreeing."

Obi-Wan paused in his reshuffling of boxes as he heard Qui-Gon's next question. "And what did you do then? I heard that you were accused of manipulating her will."

"It's true," Martial said. Obi-Wan bit his lip; even without the long silence, he would have known his Master shared his pain and anger. "Qui-Gon, please -- it's not like you think."

"How is it, then?" Qui-Gon sounded distant.

Obi-Wan went back to his labors, then realized that, behind another small box, sat a little statue of a feline goddess of Iloh -- with tiny bells strung along each of her six arms. He rolled his eyes, then began summoning the Force to quiet the bells as he slowly lifted the statue. "You're thinking of crude things. Rape, perhaps," Martial said. "But I never did that, never. That part of my relationship with her was never the problem --"

"You are telling me too much," Qui-Gon warned.

"Don't say that. Not to me, not after everything we've been through." Obi-Wan heard a dull thump, as though Martial had struck the side of his chair. "We used to be able to talk about these things, back when we were both blind from desiring our Padawans."

Obi-Wan fumbled the statue a bit, and winced as the bells jingled slightly. But Martial was apparently too distracted by his own turmoil to hear. "But you got over all that, didn't you, Qui-Gon? Tell me how. I need to know how."

"I never got over it," Qui-Gon said. "I love him now as much as I ever did. More, I think."

Hearing those words spoken to another -- somehow, the effect was almost more powerful on Obi-Wan than it had been when they were first spoken to him. He paused for a few moments before going back to work, slowly pushing the last box out of his way.

"Are you truly that strong, Qui-Gon?" Martial's voice echoed a kind of wonder. "How can you be with him, day after day, year after year, and never reach out to him? Never make him your own?"

Obi-Wan reached for the door handle, ready to go before he had to hear his Master lie. But he stopped cold when he heard Qui-Gon's words echo within his mind.

Stay, Padawan.

"I'm not strong, Martial. I am only scared." Qui-Gon must have risen; his voice floated from place to place, as though he were pacing the floor.

"Obi-Wan came to me at a dark time in my life. I'd spent years mourning the loss of Xanatos, blaming myself for his fall. And questioning everything. The Jedi Code had failed Xanatos and in so doing failed me; I wondered if I had dedicated my entire life to a lie. I came close to leaving the Order, more than once. And then I found Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan leaned against the doorjamb to steady himself. "No, he found me. So full of belief, of hope, of courage. Obi-Wan was, and is, everything the Code teaches. Bravery through knowledge. Strength through peace." Qui-Gon was quieter now. "He gave me proof that I had dedicated all my years to something worthwhile. Something true. He is dearer to me than my own life, for those reasons and a thousand others."

"Your love seems to have given you the strength mine took away."

"Martial -- I know myself to be in love for the last time in my life. I want him, want to hold on to him, with all the power and desperation of that knowledge. And I know that he is only at the beginning of his own life. He needs freedom and change, not the clawing grasp of a drowning old man. I despair of ever giving him my love without taking away everything else he deserves."

He heard the rustling of clothes, the fall of his Master's footsteps as he paced along the floor. "Obi-Wan was in danger on Louar; a man threatened him, pointed a blaster at his head as he lay helpless on the ground. The man who held him captive was a thin, desperate creature, hungrier and colder than I have ever been. He was too wretched even to pity, but I might have calmed him. Might have reasoned with him, as a Jedi ought. But I did not do that, Martial. I threatened his life if he hurt Obi-Wan. What kind of a Jedi was I then?"

Martial's voice held a shadow of his old wisdom and kindness. "Your reaction was natural, Qui-Gon."

"Natural. A kind word for animal -- unthinking and ultimately far more dangerous to Obi-Wan's life." Qui-Gon paused in his pacing at the point nearest the door to Obi-Wan's room. "If my love for him makes me unworthy of him, if it endangers him, then it is the purest folly. I do not want to believe that. But there it is."

Master, no. You know that's not how things are between us.

But that is what it could become, Obi-Wan. You have to understand that, or our choices mean nothing.

"Unworthy," Martial said absently. "I have become acquainted with that feeling."

"So you must have," Qui-Gon answered, turning his attention back to his old friend.

Obi-Wan took his chance to slip outside.

Hot water flowed over Obi-Wan's head and down his face. He was not sure how long he had been in the shower, but he still hadn't gotten around to washing. Instead he just stood there, letting the steam and moisture envelop him as he tried to process what he had just heard.

What had Martial done to Prie? Qui-Gon was learning the truth even now, but Obi-Wan was not sure whether or not his Master would feel at liberty to tell him what he discovered.

Whatever it was, it wouldn't happen to them. Obi-Wan could not and would not believe that.

But he would not have believed that Qui-Gon was ever so disillusioned as to consider leaving the Jedi, had he not just heard him say so. It was frightening to think of how close he had come to never knowing his mentor and his love. In some ways it was even more frightening to consider that he was the one who had restored Qui-Gon's belief.

How could I have taught Qui-Gon about the Force? What can I possibly know beyond what he himself taught me?

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it, spraying some of the water from his hair. Qui-Gon was the one who had made him believe -- truly believe -- in the Code as well. He only had to watch Qui-Gon, to see his joys both great and quiet, to realize the rewards of a life lived in true harmony with the Force. He had never said that to Qui-Gon before; it almost seemed too obvious. But perhaps it needed saying.

He finally shut off the water and tucked his towel around himself for the trip back to his room. Obi-Wan sent a questioning thought Qui-Gon's way; he received no answer save the strong impression that Qui-Gon was in the thick of a discussion. Well, no need to hurry, he told himself. Maybe I can spend a little while meditating on patience while I wait for Martial to leave.

No sooner had he opened his door, though, than all thoughts of Qui-Gon fled his mind. "Prie," he said softly.

"I see I'm still keyed to the lock," Prie said. She sat cross-legged on his bed, hands folded in her lap. "Is that sentimentality or forgetfulness?"

"Neither," Obi-Wan said as he came to sit by her side. "You're always welcome. You know that."

"Even now?"

"Especially now." He took her hand in his own. "Prie, what happened?"

"Do you know -- out of a thousand strange looks I've gotten in the hallways, and dozens of halfhearted attempts to get me to talk, you're the first person who dared to ask me that simple question?"

Her words had a hard edge, bitter and brittle and altogether unlike her. Obi-Wan took a long look at Prie; she seemed much the same, at first glance. Her coal-black hair was riotously curly despite the short Padawan's haircut; her eyes were that intriguing color halfway between gold and green. But Obi-Wan had, throughout his life, associated these elements of her appearance with her lively, laughing personality. The woman who sat beside him now was little more than a shell of what she had been before.

"Will I be the first to hear the answer?" Obi-Wan asked.

"You're the only one who would understand, I think." Prie looked at him steadily. "You felt what I felt. We tried to get over it together, but it didn't work, at least not for me. You knew that much, I guess."

"It didn't work for me either."

"Still in love with Qui-Gon, then." She shook her head. "Maybe I should be the one pitying you."

Obi-Wan let that pass. "Tell me what happened, Prie. Let's see if I can understand."

She looked down, withdrawing into herself. Obi-Wan knew that she was not avoiding him any longer, but simply collecting her thoughts. Her gestures were still so familiar to him; it was hard to imagine that their affair had ended over a year ago.

He'd known Prie since the creche, although they hadn't become good friends until after they were both Padawans. She was always pretty, always vivacious; Obi-Wan had made his first fumbling attempts at flirting with her, had received his first kiss from her on an evening walk through the gardens. But their relationship had never developed into love -- because they were both already in love with their Masters. They had talked about it, of course; all their friends used to. Obi-Wan could still hear them, heartbroken one and all -- Bant close to tears as she talked about Crellon's kindness, Dalam waxing eloquent about the way the sunlight played in Linea's hair. But as time went on, the others had gotten over it. Obi-Wan and Prie never did; so they whispered together when they were alone, sharing the pain and the longing.

Finally, one night, when Obi-Wan had watched Qui-Gon swimming in the Gardens' pool and was wild with desire, Prie had made a very interesting suggestion. "We can't go on like this; at least I can't," she had said. "Always wanting, never acting -- we could help each other, perhaps."

And so, over the course of a year, they had spent a dozen or so nights making love with all the energy and need that had been pent up within them for so long. It never made him stop wanting Qui-Gon -- sometimes it seemed that Obi-Wan had never wanted Qui-Gon so much as when he heard Prie cry out beneath him -- but it gave his overheated body some relief. And it had finally spurred him to move out of the Padawan's room and stop torturing himself with long sleepless nights made restless with the knowledge of Qui-Gon's simultaneous nearness and distance. Of course, their affair had been enjoyable in its own right; he smiled slightly, remembering. His melancholy when Prie had broken their arrangement had not been entirely a matter of show.

Prie was still silent. Obi-Wan prompted her: "That's why you ended things between us, isn't it? You began your affair with Martial."

"We hadn't quite begun," she said, running one hand through her hair. "But I realized that we would."

"If you had told me, I would have said that I was happy for you."

"I didn't want to tell. Before it happened, I felt -- superstitious. As if admitting it aloud would break the spell," Prie said. "Afterward, Martial and I agreed to keep it to ourselves. We thought we would wait, perhaps, until we were ready to be bonded. What a surprise that would make for you all --" Her voice choked off, and she took a moment to compose herself. "Bonded. What a laugh."

Obi-Wan squeezed her hand. "What went wrong?"

She shrugged. "I've asked myself that a hundred times, Obi-Wan. Each time the answer is different. I guess it all comes down to something I read in one of the sages' texts: having is often not so pleasant as wanting." Prie released Obi-Wan's hand and rose from the bed to pace around the room. "I always thought Martial was charismatic. He's open to everyone, a friend to all. But beneath that charisma -- there is an emptiness there. He connects a little to everyone, but deeply to almost no one. I don't think he connected to me, not the way I needed him to. And he was so certain of his own way; he always has been, but when he was only my Master, I liked that. When he was my lover, it confused me. I second-guessed myself all the time."

"Was it very bad?" Obi-Wan asked gently.

"No, not really," Prie said. "Not when it was that simple. I was just unhappy, that's all. But when I started telling him how unhappy I was -- that's when it all changed."

She was paler now, and even though she was looking into Obi-Wan's face her eyes were focused on something else. "I would tell him that we needed some time apart to think about things, and then take it back the next day. I would try to withdraw a little to gather myself, and then end up going to him, showing him my journals, telling him everything. Once I met a girl on Bespin; she had skin like copper, Obi-Wan, and the softest hands I had ever touched. I was honest with him -- went right to him and said that there was someone else I wanted to see. I thought maybe that would be what Martial had to hear to finally let me go."

"What happened?"

"He let me go. But when I went to her that night, everything was wrong. She disappointed me. She enraged me. The things I said to her -- I'll never forget her face as I left. Never." Prie shook her head. "I didn't understand why I was doing these things. I thought I was losing my mind. It took me a long time to realize that it had been taken from me."

Obi-Wan felt his anger simmering; he took a cleansing breath, trying to gather his calm. "If it were not you telling me this, I wouldn't believe it. Twisting the mind of someone else for no reason than selfishness -- I wouldn't want to believe it of any of us. Much less Martial."

"Darkness resides within all of us, Obi-Wan. You know that as well as I do. But you are as I used to be -- you think it always comes in the form of fury or violence, wielding a sword and shouting its name. Sometimes it's quieter. Sometimes it's gentle, sweet, beautiful. You can look right into it and see nothing but the reflection you most want to see."

Tears were tracing their way down her cheeks; Obi-Wan took Prie into his arms and rocked her slowly for a little while. She whispered, "You used to cry in my arms like this, all for wanting Qui-Gon. I pitied you this last year. I ought to have envied you."

Obi-Wan felt the weight of the Council's order heavily upon him. To sit here in silence and withhold the truth from Prie felt like a betrayal -- and yet, what could he have said to her? The truth would trouble her as much as the lie troubled him. He wondered whether the Council had been very wise or terribly wrong.

In either case, he knew that his silence was the price of remaining with Qui-Gon. And so he did not speak.

After a little while, Prie pulled away slightly and wiped her eyes. She was smiling a faint, hollow smile devoid of the brilliancy Obi-Wan remembered. "What can I do to help you?" he asked. "Anything?"

"Nothing much will help, except time," Prie said. But she brushed one hand down his shoulder and arm, a questioning touch he remembered all too well.

"Oh, Prie. You're hurting. If I took advantage of that, I would be worse than Martial ever was."

"True, as far as it goes. But that's not why you're holding back, is it? It's Qui-Gon."

"That's part of it too," he admitted.

"Poor Obi-Wan," Prie laughed, her voice breaking. "You think that getting what you want would make your dreams come true. It just ends your dreaming. You're left with reality."

"I would prefer the worst reality to the best illusion."

"You say that now. If you had ever seen your worst reality, you'd be thankful for your illusions. I wish I still had mine."

She began crying again, and Obi-Wan held her tightly for a long time.

Eventually he got her back to her own room, comforted if not healed. Obi-Wan felt a slight pang of guilt when he kissed her goodnight, although he could not have said precisely why. Qui-Gon was still not alone; through their brief mind-touches, Obi-Wan could tell that his Master's disquiet had increased, as had his own. He slipped into some shorts and got into bed. Despite the troubling thoughts running through his mind, it was not long before he fell deeply asleep.

Obi-Wan awoke with a start. Confused in his first moments of wakefulness, it took him a little while to recognize the shape standing in front of the door. When he did, he relaxed and smiled slightly. "Do you have any idea how many times I fantasized about waking up and seeing you there?"

"This sounds intriguing," Qui-Gon said. "What happened in these fantasies?"

"The usual," Obi-Wan said. "After some necessarily preliminaries, of course."

"What do you mean?" Through the darkness, Obi-Wan could see that Qui-Gon was smiling too -- but there was a curious expression in his eyes that Obi-Wan could not quite make out.

"Oh, I felt the need to explain what a Master was doing on the Padawan levels. Usually it was something simple -- maybe I'd hurt myself during an exercise, and you would have come down to look after me. Maybe give me a massage."

"And this massage would get more complicated."

"Exactly. Eventually you'd end up asking if you could kiss me, and, well -- we continued from there."

Qui-Gon laughed softly. "I think I'm familiar with this particular fantasy. I had a few variations on the theme."

"I should like to hear them," Obi-Wan said.

"Some other time." Qui-Gon stepped a little closer; Obi-Wan watched the slow ripple of his cloak as he moved, blackness on blackness. "You went to bed instead of waiting for Martial to leave."

"I thought you might need some time to consider."

"Did you take some time to consider, Padawan?"

"I know what I want," Obi-Wan said, his voice steady. "I know the risks; I knew them before we found out about Martial and Prie. But I also know you. I trust you."

Qui-Gon looked down into Obi-Wan's face. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. And you know it. If you did not, you would not be with me."

"I still worry."

"And that is why this is different," Obi-Wan said. When Qui-Gon was silent for a while, Obi-Wan pushed himself up on his elbows. "Can you tell me what passed between you and Martial?"

"No, Padawan. Only that I mean for the things he told me never to happen to us. We need say no more of it." Qui-Gon was still for a moment, then stepped forward, the strange expression in his eyes changing to something far more electric.

Obi-Wan felt a jolt of white heat through his body as Qui-Gon shrugged off his robe and tossed it on the floor alongside Obi-Wan's bed. He cast a look at his bed, a skinny bunk that promised little in the way of comfort even for one person; he and Prie had often been forced to resort to the floor. But Qui-Gon did not seem dismayed by the prospect; instead, he was slipping off his boots and belt quickly, assuredly.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his apprentice's questioning look. "You say you hurt yourself going through the afternoon exercises?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but Qui-Gon continued looking at him in all seriousness. Apparently the idea of a little role-playing had struck Qui-Gon as interesting, strange though it seemed to Obi-Wan. "Yes, Master," he finally sighed. "I'm a little sore."

"Well, then, we'll have to try and work that out," Qui-Gon said. He knelt on the foot of the bed, straddling Obi-Wan's legs with his own; with one quick motion he pulled the blankets away from Obi-Wan's body. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere." Obi-Wan was wearing a thin pair of shorts, but felt somehow more naked before Qui-Gon's hungry gaze than he ever had before.

"I'll be thorough," Qui-Gon said, still entirely proper and correct. But as he slid his hands across Obi-Wan's chest, his touch strong and firm and demanding -- that was anything but correct. As was Obi-Wan's response. He arched his back slightly, rising to meet Qui-Gon's palms as they stroked their way down his sides and his thighs.

Once Qui-Gon had reached his feet, he began the massage; his fingers pressed in insistently, awakening a rush feeling in Obi-Wan's toes, his heels, his ankles. Obi-Wan clutched his pillow, holding himself back as sternly as though he truly were trying to hide his reactions from Qui-Gon. "Is that better?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"Yes, Master."

"And this?" Qui-Gon's hands were back on Obi-Wan's thighs now, caressing him deeply. As his fingertips slid between Obi-Wan's legs, Obi-Wan had to stifle a cry of delight. The walls on the Padawan levels were so thin --

"That's good too," Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon moved upward, brushing his thumbs tantalizingly close to Obi-Wan's erection. Instead he turned his attention to Obi-Wan's abdomen, stroking the sides of his body. Obi-Wan could feel his breaths growing faster from the pressure of Qui-Gon's hands against his ribs. As his hands continued on their paths, his fingers brushed against Obi-Wan's nipples -- gentle touches, as if accidental, but enough to set Obi-Wan's nerves on fire. Strange, how potent even this playacted fantasy could be; Qui-Gon's touches were reawakening years of longing and fulfilling them all at once.

"You have to be more careful with your exercises, Padawan." Qui-Gon lifted one of Obi-Wan's arms and began massaging it from the fingertips down. "You have to save your ability and your strength. For more important things."

"I tire of caution, Master. Sometimes I need something else. Something more." Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes for the first time since the massage had begun; the answering heat there hit him hard, dizzying him, making his blood pulse faster.

"You have to choose the time and place very carefully," Qui-Gon said. He gave Obi-Wan's other arm the same voluptuous attention before letting it drop upon the bed. "That's what I try to do."

"What happens when you do choose?" Obi-Wan whispered.

"You will have to discover that for yourself." Qui-Gon lowered himself until his body was just over Obi-Wan's. He remained there, suspended so close, for a long minute. His expression softened; the fantasy had now ended. The connection he sought was real. "I never did ask your permission, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's mouth was but inches away. "May I?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, barely uttering the word before Qui-Gon's lips touched his own.

The kiss was delicate at first, searching and soft. Qui-Gon's tongue slid gently into his mouth, tasting his lover with exquisite slowness. Obi-Wan embraced him, drew his legs up around Qui-Gon's waist; he wanted to enfold him completely, to take him within himself in every way. Qui-Gon groaned into Obi-Wan's mouth as he ran one hand along his lover's thigh.

Qui-Gon began kissing his way down Obi-Wan's throat, taking his time. His teeth grazed the lines of his neck; Qui-Gon's lips pressed against the rushing heartbeat just beneath the skin. Obi-Wan leaned his head back, exposing himself as much as possible to this exploration; he was communicating in every way his complete surrender. Whatever his Master wanted, he would want; it seemed as if nothing he did could give Obi-Wan anything but the purest delight.

As he brought his face lower still, Qui-Gon slowly, lazily licked Obi-Wan's nipples, one after the other. Obi-Wan stifled another cry of pleasure, but buried his hands in Qui-Gon's hair, holding his head there, silently pleading for more. Qui-Gon complied, sucking gently at the peaks of skin; while he did so, he pushed down Obi-Wan's shorts, stripping him.

Qui-Gon looked up into Obi-Wan's eyes as he moved to Obi-Wan's pulsing erection. His breath was warm against the sensitive skin. Obi-Wan bit down on his lower lip, hard; he had fantasized about this so many times, with so much intensity, and now, at last --

Qui-Gon's lips closed over his hardened flesh with one motion, taking him in so deeply that Obi-Wan did cry out. He choked it back after only a moment, praying no one had heard him with what little thought he had left for anything beyond Qui-Gon's touch. The heat, the wetness, the perfect stroking movement of that tongue against him -- Obi-Wan arched into it, pushing slowly into Qui-Gon's mouth, then with more speed as Qui-Gon encouraged him, sucking him in hard with each thrust.

How could he have dreamed of this a thousand times and never gotten it right? Never known how Qui-Gon's hair would fall across his hipbone, nor how his hands would push Obi-Wan's thighs apart -- Obi-Wan did not know, could not guess, could only concentrate on moving faster and faster, on feeling that slick heat drive him farther and farther from reason, on wondering if his heart could go on beating so hard without exploding --

And then he was sliding out of control, feeling the wash of pleasure coming up within him, its inevitability its own exhilaration. Obi-Wan came, his orgasm pushing out everything except Qui-Gon's deep groan of pleasure as he swallowed him hungrily, except the dizziness that almost erased Obi-Wan away.

Qui-Gon gathered him up in his embrace; Obi-Wan slumped weakly against him as they nestled side by side on the bed. After a few moments, he pulled at Qui-Gon's open jacket. "Take this off," he gasped.

After pulling away only long enough to comply, Qui-Gon lay beside him once more; he seemed to have gone back to the massage as he gently stroked Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan rubbed his face against the thick hair on Qui-Gon's chest, kissed one nipple and smiled at the shiver of response. "What do you want?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

Qui-Gon did not speak in response, but instead carefully brought his hand lower until he could slide Obi-Wan's leg over his hip. His fingertips moved back down until they brushed against the opening to Obi-Wan's body. When Obi-Wan trembled, he pulled away for a moment. Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand in his own and guided him back.

Resisting the suggestion, Qui-Gon pulled away, leaning over Obi-Wan to grab at his cloak on the floor. Obi-Wan was confused until Qui-Gon brought forth a small tube of a particular kind of lotion. As Qui-Gon worked with it, he took a moment to try and still his own shaking. This was something else he had long dreamed of; however, it was new to him in a way nothing else had been. He knew that pain was possible, even likely, and could not easily imagine what the pleasure would be. But he also knew how badly he wanted to learn.

Qui-Gon's fingers were slick as they slid against him once more. Instead of pushing within, Qui-Gon stroked him in soft circles, taking his time, moving slowly. Obi-Wan accepted the touch, curved his neck up for another kiss.

They stayed like that for a long time, kissing luxuriously as Qui-Gon teased him with his fingertips. Obi-Wan relaxed into the slow rhythm Qui-Gon had created; he could enjoy the new pleasure beginning to course through him, discovering it and reveling in it even as he explored the soft corners of Qui-Gon's mouth with his tongue, or felt the warm pressure of Qui-Gon's abdomen against his own renewed arousal. When Qui-Gon finally pushed a finger within him, Obi-Wan gasped in both surprise and delight.

Qui-Gon smiled a little at that; his eyes were both pleased and hungry as he took in Obi-Wan's reaction. He said nothing, but continued his exploration as he kissed Obi-Wan once more. Only the intensity of his kiss betrayed his increasing passion.

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's touch move within him, against one place within him that made him quake. He let his head rest on Qui-Gon's chest as he gulped for air, then pushed back as he felt another finger enter him. "Now," he said.

"Not yet," Qui-Gon said, voice shaking in an effort for control. He stroked Obi-Wan even deeper; Obi-Wan felt himself becoming febrile, and sank his teeth into Qui-Gon's shoulder to silence what would have been a purely wanton shout. The bite made Qui-Gon groan, but did not make him quicken his pace. He continued slowly, thoroughly, driving Obi-Wan mad.

At the moment Obi-Wan thought he would come from this alone, Qui-Gon drew away. He quickly turned Obi-Wan on his stomach and pulled him to his hands and knees. Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon's feet upon the floor, the rustling of his last garments as he tugged them away. Only when his hands clutched Obi-Wan's waist did he speak. "Are you ready?"

Obi-Wan could only nod.

At the first thrust he knew a jab of pain, but forced himself to relax and give in. He felt Qui-Gon sink into him with slow, careful thrusts, felt the hot, delicious pressure building within him Obi-Wan felt as though he were being pulled apart, forced to surrender -- yet freer somehow --

Qui-Gon pushed into him again, stoking the fire within him and making him moan. He began moving with him, making the thrusts come faster, harder, deeper. The sensation of Qui-Gon's body piercing his own was so good just as it was, but it was impossible not to want more. Not to clutch at the sheets beneath him, not to open himself wider, even wider, using his body to beg for more. Qui-Gon's hands tightened on his hips for a moment, until at last one slid down to capture his throbbing erection.

That was so much, too much -- the sensation of thrusting into that hot, tight grip coupled with the sensation of being thrust into, so deeply, so strongly -- Obi-Wan climaxed, crying out without caring who heard, without caring about anything but the pure heat lancing through his body. As he gasped for breath, he glanced over his shoulder just at the moment that Qui-Gon thrust hard into him one last time and threw his head back as he came. The sight of that long, muscular body arched in ecstasy against his own made a tremor run deep through Obi-Wan -- a moment of sensuality that ran deeper than the physical pleasure still humming through his entire body, an aftershock of orgasm.

After a few moments they had found the only way to rest comfortably together in Obi-Wan's bunk; Qui-Gon sprawled out over the entire width, and Obi-Wan draped himself over his lover's body. They lay in silence, panting for breath, sweaty skin on skin. For the first time since they had arrived on Coruscant, Obi-Wan was at peace.

"I wish you could stay," he finally said.

Qui-Gon hugged him more tightly. "So do I. But we'd have quite a time explaining my presence in the Padawan showers tomorrow morning." His lips grazed Obi-Wan's forehead. "Tomorrow night I mean for you to sleep in my arms. In our quarters."

"About that," Obi-Wan said slowly. He propped himself up on one arm to look into Qui-Gon's eyes. "I want to stay with you tomorrow night. And many nights thereafter. But I think I should leave my things here, at least for the time being."

Instead of being hurt, as Obi-Wan had feared, Qui-Gon smiled, understanding. "You are a wiser man than I am, Obi-Wan."

"I'm glad we finally have that clear," Obi-Wan smiled.

Qui-Gon laughed softly as he pulled him close for another kiss. After their lips parted, though, his expression was serious as he looked into Obi-Wan's eyes. "Your trust in me means very much, Obi-Wan. Never think I take that for granted."

"You are worthy of that trust," Obi-Wan said. "I don't forget that. Neither should you."