Obi-Wan Kenobi did not dare believe the whispered rumors he heard in the halls of the Jedi Temple, could not dare. It had been nearly five years since Qui-Gon Jinn had fallen at the hands of the Sith Lord on Naboo. Obi-Wan had held him, cradled his head in his arms as he'd gasped for his dying breaths, making him promise to train the boy who stood by his side in that elevator now.

He knew Anakin had heard the rumors as well. He was grateful that the boy was using some of the tact that he so rarely displayed and hadn't attempted to broach the subject with him. Yet.

It was only a matter of time before the rumors would pique the boy's curiosity, before that curiosity would get the better of him, before…

"Master?" the boy asked, as if on cue. Obi-Wan cast a sidelong glance in his direction.

"Hmm?"

The teenager looked rather sheepish, staring down at his boots and fiddling with the hem of his tunic. His master knew precisely what was coming.

"Master Qui-Gon is dead, isn't he?" the padawan asked as they exited the elevator and headed for the landing pad. The training mission they were embarking on was Obi-Wan's idea. If he took Anakin where there were no other Jedi to whisper such horrible, hurtful rumors, perhaps his heart would be able to heal once more.

The hole that had been punched through him when Qui-Gon had died in his arms had taken a long time to heal over as much as it had. Obi-Wan had been proud of himself, all things considered. He'd managed to soothe himself, comfort himself, heal himself. Nobody, save for Anakin, had offered him the slightest bit of understanding in the wake of the loss of his master. He'd healed the wound left by that loss on his own. And now it seemed that the wound had opened fresh once more.

"…Yes, Anakin. Master Jinn has been dead for nearly five years. I do not know where the—" Obi-Wan replied with a heavy sigh as they stepped out onto the landing pad, where their shuttle awaited them. He stopped quite suddenly, nearly toppling over, when he saw the familiar figure standing at the bottom of the ramp up into their shuttle.

Draped in dark browns and blacks stood a man slightly taller than Kenobi, his long brown hair tied back with a length of leather cord, his blue eyes piercing and familiar and so inviting.

"Master?" Anakin asked, stopping and turning to look back at him. Obi-Wan would not— no, could not— take his eyes away from the figure that stood there, just about forty feet away. He found he dared not even blink, lest the figure disappear in that short time.

"Wait here," Obi-Wan told his padawan quietly but firmly as he finally managed to convince his legs to move once more. He approached the man by the shuttle slowly, cautiously, in much the same way one might approach an easily spooked animal. Those familiar blue eyes followed him the whole way until he stood just a few feet from him. They stared at one another for a long while, neither man saying anything.

Obi-Wan was about to beckon Anakin forth and board the shuttle when the man finally spoke.

"Jedi Master Kenobi, I presume," the man purred.

"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan exhaled the name in utter disbelief. It had to be him. That was the voice that plagued him in his dreams on particularly bad nights. The amused confusion that overtook the familiar man's face made the Jedi's heart drop.

"I'm sorry, that is not a name with which I am familiar," he replied. "My name is Pacifus. My master wished that I come to greet you personally, Master Kenobi."

"Your mas— Your master?" Obi-Wan's voice cracked as he attempted to speak. He blinked hard, trying so desperately not to allow the tears that threatened his eyes to spill.

"Lord Sidious."

Behind him, Obi-Wan heard the hum of Anakin's lightsaber as it was activated.

"Anakin, no," he commanded.

"But Master, he's—"

"I said no, Anakin!" Obi-Wan said, only then taking his eyes off of the strangely perfect caricature of his late master that stood in front of him. When he turned his attention back to the Sith Lord that stood before him, he was not shocked to see the confused amusement that played across that too-familiar face.

He knew precisely why the Sith had sent his apprentice to see him personally. It was a taunt. Sidious wanted him to fight this man who bore the visage of his old Master. He would not. And he would not allow his padawan to, either.

"Master!" Anakin said, frustrated. "Listen to me—"

"This is that peace the Jedi are so famous for, hmm?" the creature that bore Qui-Gon's face asked with a light chuckle that made Obi-Wan want to die. He could remember waking up to the sound of that chuckle more often than not while off on missions with his former master. He could remember those blue eyes studying him intently as he told grandiose stories of things he'd encountered on the way to a public 'fresher on some planet in the outer rim. Could remember

Obi-Wan heard Anakin's 'saber activate once more, heard his approaching footsteps. "Anakin, no!" he cried as the boy's blue blade arced through the air toward the Sith Lord's head. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, his own lightsaber was drawn and ignited. He thrust it out to block his padawan's attack, using the Force to knock the boy back. He stood protectively between the teenager and the man who bore the face of his former master.

He knew it was unwise to turn his back to the Sith Lord, no matter how trustworthy that face was, but he couldn't trust his padawan to know his place and hold his judgment. He only turned his attention back to Pacifus as he heard an earnest peal of that laughter that had been only his master's. He couldn't disguise the pain in his eyes as he looked up at him.

"How delightful. I knew there had to be a reason that it was my master's will to come to the Jedi Temple without the goal of an all-out slaughter. There's something about this form, isn't there? I can sense it in you. Oh, how delightful indeed. The great Master Kenobi can be easily taken down by his own emotions."

The Sith's lightsaber crackled to life, casting an eerie red glow across his face and chest. "It is such a pity this will be so simple, I had been assured that you were a most skilled swordsman, Master Kenobi. I had looked forward to a challenge."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he lifted his 'saber just seconds before the Sith's came crashing down at his head. He ducked, deflecting the blow and backing away. Of course, he realized, too late. It was never a choice. Sidious means to force my hand.

He stole a glance back at his padawan, who lay sprawled across the floor some fifty meters away. He hadn't realized how much force he'd used, hadn't intended to injure the boy. It was a mistake, a grave mistake. He'd never been his Master's match. Never. Alone, he knew he stood no chance against Qui-Gon or any creature that bore his face. Still, the Jedi knew that he could not give up so easily. If he allowed himself to be defeated by that Sith Lord he knew that the Temple would easily be breached. The destruction someone so skilled with a lightsaber as his former Master could wreak upon the Temple was too terrible to imagine.

Obi-Wan couldn't allow it.

He blocked Pacifus' next two blows, striking impulsively as the Sith took an amused step back. He was clearly pleased that he'd managed to strike a nerve. Obi-Wan wanted so badly to make him regret his amusement.

Though older now and arguably wiser, the knight felt the same rage, same boundless angry energy coursing through him that had helped him to defeat the Sith Lord that had killed his Master so many years ago. The Sith Lord standing before him could feel it, too. That was quite apparent in the laugh that escaped his throat as he lazily blocked the knight's every blow.

"You have yet to cease to surprise me, Master Kenobi. To move so quickly between wanting to avoid having me harmed and wanting me dead… Is that the way of the Jedi?"

"You know nothing of the Jedi. Your master should have trained you further before sending you here, Pacifus. Then maybe you'd understand what a mistake he's made sending one who bears your face to fight me!"

As Obi-Wan spoke, he continued forward, lunging and striking with all of his might as Pacifus continued to slowly back away, blocking his every attack. Obi-Wan could feel him weakening, however. It was only a matter of time. Unfortunately he could also feel himself weakening. Perhaps this was Pacifus' strategy, to wear him down and then strike.

"You have anger, fear, hatred… I can feel you tapping into them, Master Kenobi. You are a most peculiar Jedi. Most peculiar indeed." As the Sith spoke, he lunged, stabbing the side of the Jedi's tunic. He missed the man's abdomen by less than a centimeter.

Some might call it luck. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not among them. He knew his life had come very near to its end just then. Pacifus knew this as well, if the velvety laughter that escaped his lips was any indication.

Obi-Wan blocked the next blow the Sith dealt. He cleared his mind and reached out with the Force as he blocked another blow and dodged yet another, looking for any sort of weakness. He wished he had Anakin beside him. The boy wasn't the greatest with a 'saber yet, but he could prove a formidable opponent when he put his mind to it. Lying helpless on the floor behind the master, the boy was of no use to anyone.

Wait.

A deep breath. Concentrate.

Pacifus cocked his head in confusion at the noise of pure rage that the Jedi gave as he lunged forward.

The Sith blocked the first blow but didn't expect Obi-Wan to continue to thrust his 'saber at him. He didn't expect the desperate, needy sort of violent act.

When the blue blade pierced the Sith's flesh, Obi-Wan gave a vicious sneer as he turned to study the mockery of his fallen master's face.

The sneer melted away as he watched the man sink on the blade, staring up at him. It wasn't Pacifus that stared up at him. No, those dark blue eyes were too familiar. The pain in those eyes was too familiar.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened as his master, his Qui-Gon, called his name.

What have I done? He deactivated his 'saber and caught the man as he fell, cradling him just as desperately as he had so many years ago. What have I done?

"Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon?" He gently shook the man, desperate for one more word, one last touch…