Thank you! to TheMacUnleashed, M, Pharoahess, Tashilover, charie, nayru, Padawan Jess Kenobi, peanutmeg, ObiBettina7, and mysong. Out of over 200 readers, you took a minute to leave a review for this fic and keep an easily discouraged author's spirits up. I know you're reviewing the Rewrite, too, and it means so much to me that you're kind enough to do so. I appreciate your time!

Still hoping this isn't too difficult to read … the words just keep spilling out …

New Arrangements

By: Syntyche

Chapter Two

Qui-Gon Jinn's first thought, when the door slid open and revealed the Padawan-learner that the Council had assigned to him, was that he would have to revise his initial conjecture: this was no boy that stood patiently on his doorstop; rather, Obi-Wan Kenobi turned out to be instead a slightly shorter but powerfully built, compact young man who stared back at him with expressionless blue-grey eyes. Kenobi's demeanor proffered silent submission rather than the stony defiance Qui-Gon had expected from a young Jedi who should have been sent on to take the Trials for Knighthood and had instead been kept back for additional training.

Qui-Gon was unsurprised to find that he was disappointed Kenobi apparently lacked the latter – he preferred his apprentices to possess the same inner fire, the same ability to question authority that he did. It was much easier to get one's goals accomplished when their Padawan had a shared desire to pursue justice and right wrongs despite the personal risk to reputation and chances for being on the Council someday.

But Qui-Gon was getting ahead of himself. He was judging the young man before him on a presupposition. He would have to be more careful; the Jedi Master was already irritated by the Council's demand he train Kenobi, and casting the Padawan unfavorably without giving him a chance to make his own mistakes would only bring the inevitable disastrous end Qui-Gon was expecting to fulfillment sooner.

"Master Qui-Gon Jinn?" Kenobi greeted him quietly, a hint questioningly, his perfectly cultured voice allowing just mere hints of an exotic accent to escape and color his words. Qui-Gon nodded shortly, wordlessly stepping to the side to allow the young man entrance into his domicile.

Kenobi entered hesitantly, glancing once at Qui-Gon before moving further into Qui-Gon's quarters and stopping precisely at the center of the common room. His inquiring gaze settled on the Jedi Master, but Qui-Gon said nothing, studying his new charge as if he were an invading beetle set to chew the delicate leaves off of one of his favorite plants.

Kenobi's close-cropped, neatly spiked ginger hair was gathered into a small ponytail, and his long Padawan braid was nestled neatly behind his right ear. His high forehead was marred by a tiny furrow resting in his brow as a testimony to his discomfort while impassive blue-grey eyes quietly waited out Qui-Gon's blatant examination. Strong cheekbones leading to pale, hollow cheeks bordered firm, thin lips set into a tense line, and a prominently cleft chin; it wasn't a bad-looking face – while not "handsome" in a conventional sense, Qui-Gon was warily certain that young Kenobi possessed his share of admirers, and likely then some.

Continuing his assessment, he noted Kenobi's broad shoulders, tapering into a well-toned torso, narrow waist and hips; Kenobi's slender, well-muscled thighs and calves attested to as much time spent in the training halls as anywhere else.

In all, it wasn't an absolutely bad picture, but Qui-Gon tried to visualize himself and Kenobi fighting back-to-back and had to squelch the wry thought that he would most likely get shot in the back of the head due to Kenobi's … unimposing physical stature. It would be only slightly better than being covered by Master Yoda.

For his part, Obi-Wan was ignoring the scrutiny, obliquely examining Qui-Gon's living space, saying nothing, but his brow wrinkled a little deeper as the silence continued to stretch between them. Qui-Gon wondered if Kenobi disapproved of the Jedi Master's comfortably lived-in clutter, but he didn't much care either way if the young man did.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, I presume," he finally said, rather blandly, and Kenobi immediately bowed deeply, pulling his long robe tightly against his slim body as he did so.

"Master Jinn," he murmured as an affirmative, nodding shortly, long lashes resting briefly against his pale skin as his eyes closed respectfully for the briefest second.

Qui-Gon brushed off the formality, unused to being treated so ceremoniously, and immediately launched into a quick tour.

"Common room and study, and kitchen," he indicated each area with a quick wave of his hand, even though he was stating the obvious. "This room will be yours," he announced, gesturing toward the recently vacated, newly scrubbed room just visible in the hall. "The adjacent door is to the fresher, and my room is at the opposite end of the hall."

He glanced at the small twin duffel bags Kenobi carried over each shoulder. "You can leave those in your room," he instructed, "and we'll arrange to have the rest of your things brought in."

"This is all I have, Master Jinn," Kenobi interposed politely, self-consciously shifting his bags under Qui-Gon's sudden surprised glance. The Padawan's eyes darted to the floor and back up and it appeared to Qui-Gon that he actually burrowed himself deeper into the folds of his robe, looking much younger than the twenty-three years Qui-Gon knew him to be.

"I see," was all the Jedi Master could think of to say, but in retrospect he supposed that a rejected Jedi Padawan probably wouldn't want to keep much that would remind him of his … previous apprenticeship.

In fact, it was probably a wonder that Kenobi wasn't carrying less.

"Then it won't take you long to settle in," Qui-Gon proffered with a cynical half-smile at the young man, and Kenobi's bold response to his statement utterly floored him:

"Nor will it take me long to pack up again, will it, Master Jinn?" Kenobi asked levelly, still standing in the same spot as he had when he'd first entered the room.

There wasn't any nobility in pretending he didn't know what Kenobi was referring to.

"No, I don't suppose it will," Qui-Gon responded, squelching his irritation and trying to keep his voice neutral. "But let's worry about that bridge if we come to it, shall we?"

Kenobi's answering smile was humorless. "I think 'when' may be more appropriate than 'if,' Master Jinn."

Again, Qui-Gon cursed the Council and their so-called wisdom; if he'd wanted another apprentice, he would have asked for one! It appeared Kenobi had also reached Qui-Gon's earlier conclusion: this forced partnership was doomed to a very short existence. There was no reason to drag their doubts into the open so soon, however.

"Padawan Kenobi," he began, sounding, he thought, very reasonable and very calm, "at such an early stage, I think it unwise to pursue this line of speculation and instead follow through on what the Council has ordered us to do." Immediately Qui-Gon regretted his use of the word 'ordered,' and the noticeable shuttering of Kenobi's eyes showed that Qui-Gon's error had not slid by unobserved. He would have retracted his sentence, but there was no truthful way around it.

Kenobi held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before dropping his blank eyes to the carpeted floor. "Understood, Master Jinn," he murmured, with a slight drop of his chin toward his chest. Without looking back at Qui-Gon, he slowly left his little circle of safety and made his way stiffly to the room Qui-Gon had earlier indicated. There was a quiet hiss as the door closed behind him, and the Jedi Master allowed his eyes to drift closed tiredly as he exhaled forcefully, wishing he could expel the tension in shoulders with such a simple action. He felt like he aged by decades since Kenobi had first stepped through the door, though in reality it had been less than ten Standard minutes.

"That could have gone much better," he mumbled to the empty room. "Much better."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Either Kenobi had impeccable timing, or he somehow knew exactly how long was just long enough to be absent and when precisely to reappear. Kenobi joined Qui-Gon in the kitchen as the older Jedi was rummaging through the cooling unit, grumbling irritably as he surveyed its contents with growing dissatisfaction. Qui-Gon had decided to let the earlier discomfort between them pass without his mentioning it again, and instead focus on doing exactly what he'd told Kenobi – following the Council's orders. He studied the young Jedi swiftly; sans robe, Qui-Gon realized that Kenobi was slightly smaller than his original appraisal, and was positively short beside the towering Jedi Master.

I am going to take it in the back of the head one of these days, he thought with a sigh, unless Kenobi's damned good with a lightsaber. Qui-Gon made a mental note to put Kenobi's weapons training near the top of his assessment list – definitely before they were sent into the field anywhere. If they managed to make it that far in this …. arrangement.

Qui-Gon's stomach rumbled and he realized that he was getting chilled standing in front of the open cooling unit. Kenobi was watching him, eyebrow embedded in its seemingly permanently cocked position, asking without speaking just what Qui-Gon thought he was doing. Qui-Gon pushed the door shut with a sigh, abandoning the hope of finding anything immediately edible – or at least easily prepared, and he didn't really feel up to cooking tonight.

"I was thinking, Padawan Kenobi," he announced, hopefully enthusiastically but knowing he failed miserably, "that we would eat out tonight – unless you know how to cook?" When he lifted his head he saw Kenobi regarding him with an amused little smile, but the Padawan offered no verbal reply, which Qui-Gon took to mean that Kenobi couldn't really cook, either. "Well, get your robe," he pushed on cheerily, determined to make the best of a bad situation, "and we'll go. You are hungry, I take it?" he thought to ask, but could hardly imagine Kenobi's answer would be a negative.

Kenobi's grin actually widened at Qui-Gon's query, making his thin face all the more pleasant and a small spark crept into his empty eyes.

"Master Jinn," he pronounced, sounding amused and thankfully not offended by Qui-Gon's patronizing – or at least ignoring it. "I'm nearly always hungry, and apt at any time to eat whatever is put in front of me."

Qui-Gon felt an answering smile threaten at the corners of his mouth, pleased to see a little life imbued in the rigid young Jedi. "That is a good thing, Padawan Kenobi, an excellent quality to have," he said seriously.

"It's an especially good quality to have when you're accustomed to traveling," Kenobi agreed easily. "At least, it keeps your Master happy, which is, as you know, critically – " Kenobi choked off, a sudden look of dismay washing over his face before he immediately forced his features back into the utter blandness he'd worn since his arrival. Qui-Gon watched in confusion, concerned by the Padawan's reaction to such a simple statement.

"Critically important," Kenobi finished weakly, with the attitude of someone who had said too much and knew it. He offered Qui-Gon a sick smile, but his mouth gaped just slightly, as if he felt he should say something to cover his mistake but hadn't any idea what.

The Jedi Master stared silently, wondering what the hell was going on and what Kenobi had said that had unnerved him so. After a few moments of awkward silence, Kenobi mumbled something unintelligible and retreated back to his room. Qui-Gon watched him go, a frown pulling at his full mouth. He'd left Kenobi's words hanging in midair, but Qui-Gon knew he could have offered the young man a kindness by doing something other than staring.

This was not going well at all.