I shall now take a moment to hug and say thank you to each and every reader who took a moment to review this story. You keep this fic going, and that's not a cliché or a review-hostage situation (as in, 'I refuse to post any chapters until I get X number of reviews.' No, I just have lack-of-review-related meltdowns and assume everyone thinks the story sucks and I may as well not post any new chapters. It's waaaaaay different than holding chaps hostage. Ummm… at least, using the "different point-of-view" defense. lol.)

I'm on my way to finishing the Rewrite … it's a shame Obi-Wan's not out of the proverbial woods there yet, either; poor guy's getting his shapely ass kicked between these two fics and also 'loyalty' (to be finished … someday) … but this fic hijacked my brain and is demanding to be finished in a relatively timely fashion. We'll see if my natural knack for procrastination wins out.

Finally, I'm writing under the assumption that until a Padawan is assigned a specific master of their own, they receive instruction from several masters, so Qui-Gon references a few 'former masters' of his own here and there. Hopefully not too confusing.

Also, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. My choices were "post it" or "delete it" and I'm hoping I made the right choice.

New Arrangements

By: Syntyche

Chapter Four

The early morning dawn was just beginning to streak crisp edges along the hem of cobalt darkness shrouding the night sky when Qui-Gon awoke from blissfully refreshing slumber. Lately, it was only there, cloaked in the warm solitude of sleep that he could evade however briefly the frustrating mystery of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the young Padawan's fall from grace as evinced by his rejection by his former Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon rose, shedding the light duvet, and stumbled blearily to the kitchen, passing his young charge's closed door with the smallest of frowns. He didn't like working blindly, yet that was exactly what the Council had asked him to do with Kenobi. A repair job without knowing what was damaged.

Tea, he thought desperately, would help him collect his thoughts. He had long ago accepted with his usual grace that he would never in actuality be a "morning person," and the Jedi Master had made an amused peace with that established fact. I need hot tea.

Squinting his way around as he did every morning, Qui-Gon somehow managed to get the tea kettle going on the stovetop, thinking all the while how nice it had been when he'd had a Padawan underfoot to start this morning ritual for him. It was an unofficial yet time-honored tradition for Padawans that apparently Kenobi's master had never explained to him.

A soft whisper of fabric breezed past his ears as the afore-mentioned Padawan glided into the cooking area and Qui-Gon covered a frown by busying himself readying his tea mug: Kenobi looked like hell. There was no polite way around it and Qui-Gon wondered how much sleep he'd gotten, if any, the previous night.

"Padawan Kenobi," he greeted, striving to infer some sympathetic gentleness into his voice, "Did you sleep all right?"

Kenobi's reply was polite but short, offered with a humble nod of his head and a low murmur. "Fine, Master Jinn, thank you for asking."

Qui-Gon returned the nod. "Can I get you anything? Something hot to drink, perhaps?"

"Ah … do you have any kaffe?" Kenobi asked hesitantly. Qui-Gon shook his head, his crooked nose crinkling as he remembered well the acrid taste of the bitter drink Kenobi had requested: one of the Jedi's former masters had strictly refused the start the day until Qui-Gon had brewed him a pot of the thickly foul beverage. One of the advantages of having the benefit of Yoda's added training was young Qui-Gon's introduction to the blessedly calming relief of freshly brewed tea.

"No, I'm sorry," he heard himself say, rattling himself from his musings. "I'm a tea drinker. Would you care for some? It's not as strong as kaffe, perhaps, but I think you'll find it soothing after a trying night," he offered with a gentle smile.

A flash of an answering smile graced Kenobi's expression, making him look boyishly younger than his twenty-three years. "Uh, yes, that would be fine," Kenobi ventured to add, "I, uh, that is, I have a kaffe mug, Master Jinn." The barest flash of a pensive frown and it was gone as quickly as the grin it had replaced. "It's one of the few things I own. I'll get it."

He ducked out of the cooking area but returned promptly carrying a dark blue mug which he surrendered to Qui-Gon's outstretched hand. Qui-Gon turned the well-used, chipped mug over in his large hands thoughtfully. Either Kenobi was a horribly violent dishwasher, or he and his former Master had traveled frequently. The latter rationalization, the Jedi Master decided, would also explain the Padawan's meager belongings and his earlier inquisitiveness about Qui-Gon's "superfluous" library and belongings.

"How long have you been at the Temple, Padawan Kenobi?" Qui-Gon asked curiously, and was rewarded with a raised ginger eyebrow from Obi-Wan.

"Most of my young life, Master Jinn." The kettle whistled and Kenobi slid past Qui-Gon to gently remove it from the heat, carefully pouring the steaming water into Qui-Gon's waiting mug on the counter. "I never knew my parents."

"No … I mean, when were you last out in the field," Qui-Gon clarified. "When was your most recent assignment off-planet?"

Obi-Wan froze in the act of filling his kaffe mug, and only Qui-Gon's surprised tap on his broad, thin shoulder kept the Padawan from splashing the steaming liquid across the counter and his robe front. "My last … ?"

"Yes, Padawan." Qui-Gon compassionately rescued the kettle from Kenobi's iron grip on the handle, setting it aside and picking up his mug. The warm aroma of mint drifted pleasantly across his senses as he explained, "As one of the Council's primary negotiators, I am off-planet quite frequently and interact with many types of individuals. Before you and I undertake such an assignment, I need to know if this something you've been prepared for. How extensively have you been trained in interspecies relations and diplomacy?"

Kenobi's normally pleasant features twisted into an ugly, almost humiliated scowl that somehow both confused Qui-Gon and made his heart ache inexplicably.

"Ah, I see." The Padawan turned his back to Qui-Gon, busying himself with the nothing on the counter, his pained voice sending clipped bitterness over his shoulder. "I've been trained very extensively in interspecies relations and diplomacy, Master Jinn. What do you want, or what would you like to know?"

"Want?" Qui-Gon was surprised and perturbed by Kenobi's sudden change in demeanor – not unexpected, he'd seen it a few times already, but not yet with this level of emotion attached to it. "I don't want anything, Padawan. It's my job as your teacher to ask these things. I've been on-planet for awhile now and with you assigned as my apprentice I don't think the Council will delay long in giving us an assignment."

Kenobi exhaled in a sudden, embarrassed rush, his shoulders sagging as his rigid posture slumped. "Yes, of course, Master Jinn. I apologize."

"It's quite unnecessary, young one," Qui-Gon assured, handing the Padawan his tea, though he couldn't help but notice the slight way in which Kenobi's hand trembled as he accepted the mug.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"No! No, no, no!"

Heroically – he felt – resisting the urge to fling his hands into the air into a gesture of total surrender, Qui-Gon instead placed thick fingers twitching with unused energy onto Kenobi's shoulder, gripping the fabric of the young man's tunic tightly. It had been a week since Kenobi had been assigned to him, and six days of lightsaber training later, the Padawan's offensive and defensive maneuvers were still as shamefully poor as they had been the first time they had sparred. It may have been due to Kenobi's frequent absences from their apartment while he was scheduled to train with members of the Council, but it was frustrating to the Jedi Master to say the least. During the past week Qui-Gon had watched Kenobi carefully but futilely for signs of Light, or Dark – or any emotion, really, other than the empty-eyed stare and the bland demeanor that so often controlled the young man.

"Padawan Kenobi, you're not even paying attention," he chastised, willing the patience warring with frustration to bleed through into his voice. Still, the words came out on a sigh. "Your fighting style is antiquated, you're moving too slowly, and you're not focused. Remember your focus, young one, or you will be easily defeated."

"Yes, Master," Kenobi murmured automatically, looking no more ready to fight than he had any of the scores of previous times they had sparred. Qui-Gon frowned. They had to break this one-sided cycle of action or the only thing they would accomplish would be exhausting the Jedi Master and Kenobi would be no farther along than he had been before he'd been relegated to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon stepped back, ignoring the look of unwarranted shame from his criticism that tainted Kenobi's pale cheeks with a wash of crimson, "Let's try again. I'm not going to pull any punches this time, so be prepared," the command in his voice was unmistakable.

Hoping the firm warning would spur Kenobi into action – finally – Qui-Gon launched a fierce attack, attempting to snap Kenobi into battle-mode by forcing him to either respond automatically or be mowed down under the Jedi Master's unremitting assault.

Driving relentlessly forward, he pushed Kenobi back towards the far wall, easily deflecting Kenobi's weak parries and scoring light touches that singed Kenobi's white tunics.

"Come on, young one," he urged, unrelenting in his onslaught, "feel the Force, let it control your actions, let the Living Force sing in your mind!"

Another touch glanced off of Kenobi's shoulder, and a brief twinge of irritated pain flashed across the Padawan's blank face before it was smoothed back under control.

"Come on!" Qui-Gon demanded, willing a response from the younger man. "Now, Obi-Wan! Attack!"

The Padawan continued to back up under the assault as he had every time they performed this exercise, lightsaber wavering in his unsteady hands, halting only when his back slammed into the far wall; his grey eyes widened, and for the first time Qui-Gon saw fear flash through Kenobi's tired eyes.

Stop, echoed in Qui-Gon's mind in a murmur so low he wasn't certain he hadn't imagined it in the crushing press of combat training. please please stop!

Qui-Gon shook his head sharply, his practice saber dancing off of Kenobi's unprotected thigh.

"Now, Obi-Wan!" he demanded, so close to Kenobi now that he could see the sheen of perspiration dampening the Padawan's hair and rolling in rivulets down his flushed face. "Attack or be defeated! Do what you must do!" Qui-Gon poured all the strength of his voice behind his words, all his frustration, demanding that Obi-Wan obey, that he act!

And Kenobi snapped.

It wasn't a gentle occurrence, as if Kenobi had finally decided he needed to keep up with his new Master and join the currently one-sided fight; as he watched cobalt stain Kenobi's grey eyes dark, Qui-Gon could have sworn that something inside the Padawan had literally snapped, some deeply fettered reserve had come crashing open. A wall had broken somewhere, and all the pent-up rage and frustration that Kenobi hid so carefully poured out. Kenobi moved, his blue-tinged saber a blur of energy as he surged forward, launching a torrential attack that left Qui-Gon staggering under the sheer immensity of it. Flipping, twisting, using incredibly advanced aerial maneuvers, Kenobi reversed the match and drove the stunned Jedi master away from the wall.

Qui-Gon might have been pleased if he weren't so concerned.

There was no Light in Kenobi's eyes, but there was no Dark, either, Qui-Gon noticed swiftly, bringing his blade up quickly to block a disarming strike intended for his sword arm. No emotion drove Kenobi on, just instinct layered over years and years of practicing the same footwork. Qui-Gon recognized that Kenobi retained the antiquated style he had earlier haltingly performed – though Qui-Gon himself had chosen a different style, many older masters still utilized the sophisticated form Kenobi was displaying – but the aerial acrobatics were all the Padawan's own. Even losing to an opponent who just moments before hadn't shown any inclination toward even participating, Qui-Gon could still hurriedly admire the Padawan's gracefully refined skill.

Within a few minutes, the Jedi Master – who had worn the edges off of his own energy by fruitlessly trying to goad Kenobi into a match earlier – stumbled slightly in his exhaustion and dropped to one knee on the thickly-padded training mat.

Kenobi's entire body trembled as he lifted his azure lightsaber high over his head, ready to deliver the killing blow. There was no satisfaction in his twisted gaze, no victorious exultation, only a grim acknowledgement that he had bested his opponent. His eyes were blank, far away, and though the training hall was deathly quiet Qui-Gon barely heard the agonized breath that slipped from Kenobi's shaking lips as he swung his lightsaber in a downward arc meant to bisect his opponent.

"Padawan!"

Qui-Gon barely managed to roll out of the way, knowing that the practice saber wouldn't permanently harm him if he was struck by it, but that he would be sporting some impressive and rather embarrassing-looking burns on his lined face that Mace would never let him hear the end of.

As it was, the sharp, unmistakable hum of the saber swished distressingly close to Qui-Gon's ear. He rolled smoothly and leapt to his feet, sending a sharp tendril of the Force to shut off Obi-Wan's saber. Hurriedly he placed his hands on Kenobi's wavering shoulders; the young Padawan stared in shock at the deactivated hilt clenched tightly in his fist before turning horrified eyes up to meet Qui-Gon's.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, the well-used words sliding with practiced ease from his lips, but he met Qui-Gon's gaze steadily. "I'm sorry. I lost my focus." There was a flicker of worried concern so brief that Qui-Gon almost missed it. "Will you tell the Council?" he asked immediately.

Qui-Gon stared hard at the young man for a long moment, willing himself to comprehend the truth beneath Kenobi's apprehensive question, his motive for asking, and how he should answer.

The Jedi Master considered. Sweep the incident under the training mat, as it were, and go on like nothing had happened apart from an unexpected display of skill? Or report in detail to the Council regarding all of Kenobi's training, as they had asked him to do?

Qui-Gon smoothed out the creased skin of his forehead with a callused finger, looping the motion around to tuck errant strands of grey-flecked mahogany, loosened during Kenobi's unexpected onslaught, back into the simple tie he often used to secure his hair away from his face. Normally, in a fit of minor rebellion to the restrictive Council mandates, he would keep something small like Kenobi's outburst from them. Their carefully-posed "request" – really an order – that he report each setback and achievement rankled him in the same way the "request" that he take on Kenobi as a Padawan did.

However, he suspected that Yoda would presume that keeping information from them was exactly what he would do; therefore, Qui-Gon decided to turn the tables on the tiny troll and tell the Council everything that had transpired, maybe even go into detail about all of the nothing the irritatingly blank slate – with sudden flashes of emotion and intensity – that was Kenobi had done during the past few days. That would show them.

Qui-Gon knew it was petty, but he was pretty sure his former master Count Dooku would have shared an amused and approving smile with him for his dislike of many Council mandates. Dooku possessed – and had perhaps even bequeathed to Qui-Gon – the same unwillingness to fit in with the current Council's strict interpretation of regulations as the young Padawan Jinn he had trained to Knighthood.

Qui-Gon decided to report to the Council – perhaps relating his mostly unsuccessful tutelage of Kenobi would encourage Yoda to either give him some answers, or possibly even reassign Kenobi.

"I'm afraid so," he told Kenobi gravely. "I've been ordered to report on all facets of your training and progress to Master Yoda."

Kenobi's answering nod was short and tight. "I had suspected as much, Master Jinn." In a single fluid motion he gathered up his robe, hanging on a hook nearby, and shrugged into it gracefully. "I shall see you at dinner. If you'll excuse me."

Qui-Gon watched him go, watched the rigid set of his young shoulders, and decided now would be as good a time as any to find Yoda.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It didn't take him long to secure an audience with his former Master, though while Qui-Gon waited he came to realize that his wanting to see the small Jedi had less to do with acting unpredictably to startle the Council and more to try and pierce the darkness of confused mystery that surrounded the young Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He settled gracefully on a comfortable divan across from Yoda in a quiet room off the main Council chambers, and for a moment they simply relaxed in each other's familiar company. Though he and Yoda had had many, many disagreements during Qui-Gon's Padawan training that had continued well into his Knighthood and even beyond, there was still a residual bond between them that echoed the warm friendship shared by a teacher and apprentice.

Qui-Gon waited patiently for Yoda to speak, and it wasn't long before the aged master's rasping voice lifted him from his freely wandering thoughts.

"Young Obi-Wan's training, going well, is it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, ready for the question. "I regret to say that he lost control while we were sparring. If we hadn't been using practice sabers the chance that one of us would have been injured is great." Yoda's expression clouded, and Qui-Gon added his well-rehearsed postscript. "It is my estimation that his emotional control is tenuous at best; though perhaps if the Council could explain more of Kenobi's prior situation to me, I would know better how to train him."

"Unfortunate is this news," Yoda murmured sadly, long ears drooping, and Qui-Gon wondered how close he was in his surmise that young Kenobi had touched the Dark Side. "More training in control with him, I will have."

The statement surprised Qui-Gon. "More training with the Council?" he questioned, irritation seeping into his tone. "When, exactly, am I supposed to be training him, then? He already spends more time with the Council than any Padawan should."

"Necessary, it is," Yoda demurred sternly, grave displeasure lurking his clear, wide eyes, though Qui-Gon was uncertain if it was directed at him or the errant Padawan. "Work with him, we must, to bring him back. Patience you must have, Qui-Gon, with Padawan Kenobi and with us. In time, all will be revealed – "

"Bring him back?" Qui-Gon echoed, sounding harsh even to own ears. It was all too easy to let his aggravation at both the Council and Kenobi's reticence seep into his thoughts and his tone. "Back from where?"

Yoda shook his head firmly, tapping his small gimmer stick in Qui-Gon's direction warningly. "Reveal that to you, I cannot, young one, but see to Padawan Kenobi's control exercises I will. Continue, you will, with other training he must have."

The pointed instruction jabbed at the Jedi Master, feeding his annoyed resentment and reminding him of the disagreements he and Yoda used to have, and how easily his former master resumed that relationship when it suited the Council member's devices to take precedence over Qui-Gon's opinions.

"With all due respect, master," Qui-Gon bit out tightly, "It's impossible for me to get anywhere with him without forming a training bond, which, even had I the inclination to do so, would be impossible with the limited time you have given me to train him. I have spent only one week as his master and already I see the futility of trying to train him as my Padawan. I respectfully request, Master, that you take the boy as your own apprentice. I cannot train him with one hand tied behind my back, and I refuse to train him if I'm to be undermined by the Council at every turn."

"Undermining you, the Council is not." The old Jedi's denial was firm. "Respect you, Padawan Kenobi does, and listen to you also, he does."

"But he listens first to the Council," Qui-Gon interjected heatedly, surging to his feet, the ache of his earlier frustration dulling into tired rebuttal. "And therefore you must take him. This is not an unreasonable request, Master – I do not want him. Take him back, as you seem to want to be responsible for his training anyway." He drew himself up straight, towering over the small Master who watched him with sad eyes. "I formally renounce any claims on the apprenticeship of Padawan Kenobi."

Yoda's gimmer stick slammed into the floor, nearly driving into Qui-Gon's boot and making the tall Jedi Master actually stumble back a step to avoid a puncture in the strong leather.

"Stop this, you must, Qui-Gon! Know not, what you are doing. Need a Master, Padawan Kenobi does – "

"What about his former Master, then?" Qui-Gon interrupted, his protest aggravated.

Yoda's refute was to the point: "Impossible."

"Yes, I know!" Qui-Gon bit out, and the Living Force was singing a warning in his ears but he ignored it, his control snapping as easily and suddenly as Kenobi's had in the training hall earlier, words rushing out that he would soon regret, flowing as smoothly out of his mouth as if another were working his marionette strings. "Because Padawan Kenobi was rejected by his former master, was he not? But of course it's not important to tell me why, no, you merely give me someone else's rejected apprentice and hope to Force I can do a decent salvage job to save the pristine reputation of the Order so they don't have to turn out another failed – "

"Enough!" Yoda roared, and Qui-Gon was startled into silence by the force of the tiny Master's bellow, the invisible strings ordering his words ceasing to be. But instead of rage creasing the old Master's wrinkled face, only sadness lined its crevasses. "Much harm, your temper still causes, young one" he sighed, tapping his stick quietly on the floor. Raising his voice, he addressed not Qui-Gon, but the shadowy recesses near the entrance:

"Enter all the way, Padawan Kenobi; lurk not in the shadows while your welfare we discuss."