Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I've really appreciated it. And just so everyone knows, I'm not expecting to go through the whole Bandomeer/Xanatos plot played out in Jedi Apprentice. This is pretty different, and is most likely going to skip forward to vaious stages in the relationship between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, kind of looking at how thier bond develops. Of course, It would be no fun with Xanatos completely eliminated, so we'll see what happens...

"You're being too hard. On yourself… and on him."

"Please, Tahl, not you, too. I had more than enough criticism from Yoda on the subject."

"But he's right. You —"

"Tahl."

Caught by surprise at his sharp tone, she bit back her response and continued watching him warily. Her green- and gold-striped eyes, however, remained unsympathetic and conveyed her thought that he was being ridiculous about the whole thing.

Qui-Gon sighed, regretting it immediately. "I'm sorry," he murmured in apology. In an almost personified effort to relieve boredom, his fingers began subconsciously tracing the pattern of sunlight falling, pure and golden, on the fabric of the couch next to him. "I don't know what I'm doing. I resolved not to train another apprentice… and yet a small, truthful part of me still wants to take on a Padawan."

"Then why not?" Tahl asked with a small smile. "The past is over, Qui-Gon. Just go and tell Yoda you've changed your mind."

But the other shook his head. "I can't. You know I can't."

"Because of something that happened years ago that wasn't even your fault?" She sounded as if she would have liked to physically slap some sense into him. "Force, Qui-Gon, you need to get over this! Didn't you hear me? It's over!"

"I know it is!" Qui-Gon nearly shouted, standing up suddenly and pacing over to the window. "And that, I think, is part of the problem! I can't go back and fix it, remedy those mistakes. Don't you see? How can I remotely trust myself with another apprentice after what I blundered into back there? How do I know I won't cause the same suffering that resulted the last time I tried? How can I be sure?"

Softly, his friend replied, "You can't. But you'll never find out if you don't take the chance."

"I think that is a risk I would prefer not to gamble," the Jedi Master muttered bitterly.

"Well, then I can't help you." Tahl shrugged in resignation. "I should probably be going. There are some younglings that are in need of high-standard supervision. And if I don't get there soon, Force knows what I'll find."

With a final, encouraging glance at him, she strode quickly through the doors and into the hall. It was only seconds later, however, when Qui-Gon heard her voice echoing back at him from outside the apartment.

"What?" he called back in confusion. "I can't hear you."

Her voice grew slightly louder as she answered, "I said, there's someone out here who wants to speak with you."

"Who is it?" Qui-Gon inquired, more than a little curious. Was it Yoda again, come to try and convince him for the multi-millionth time that he should look over the younglings?

"He says he'd rather just come in."

Blast it all, it was Yoda.

Qui-Gon sighed agitatedly. "All right, send him in."

But it wasn't Yoda. It wasn't even a Jedi Knight.

It was Obi-Wan.

And before Qui-Gon could protest or say anything at all, the Padawan had crossed the room, never looking up, and sat down opposite the Jedi Master. Almost with amusement, Qui-Gon noted that Obi-Wan had perched himself on the very edge of the chair, reminding him very much of some small animal ready to bolt should its companion suddenly lash out in hostility.

Taken completely by surprise, Qui-Gon could only sit there incredulously as he came to terms with the fact that the one youngling he had been avoiding at all costs had actually taken matters into his own hands and come to him. Astonishment, however, was short-lived, for it was speedily replaced with the beginnings of irritability that this boy was so persistent. Qui-Gon was sick and tired of everyone pestering him to change his mind, and as a result, his first words to the expectant Padawan were less than cordial.

"Did you want something, Padawan?"

The boy's head jerked up sharply as he jumped at the sound of the master's voice. "Y-yes, Master Jinn. I-I wanted to ask you something."

"Say it, then," Qui-Gon prompted, feeling faintly annoyed.

Obi-Wan looked down at his boots, one hand fiddling with a cream-colored corner of his tunic. Twice he swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, then lost courage and closed it again. Finally, as though he knew he was wearing Qui-Gon's patience thin as a sheet of paper, he took a slow, deep breath and said firmly, "Master Jinn, I'm sorry that I behaved the way I did the other day. I should have known better than to start an unsupervised duel like that. I let myself become angry when I shouldn't have and allowed Bruck to manipulate me because of it."

The Jedi Master frowned. "You admit, then, to starting the argument?"

Hesitant at first, Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master," he agreed in a small voice. "I-I do."

Strange, Qui-Gon mused to himself as he considered the response. I don't think he actually did start the fight. Was Obi-Wan so desperate that he would admit to a crime that he had not actually committed? But that was just as bad, if not worse. He was protecting the other youngling, Bruck, which was certainly not the right thing to do, as well as deliberately lying to a Master. Qui-Gon knew the latter was forbidden if a learner lied specifically to his or her own mentor, but this was nearly as bad.

"Was that all you wished to speak with me about?" he asked aloud.

"No, actually." Obi-Wan seemed to be debating how best to word his next sentence. "It's just that, well, I…. This may sound too forward for a Padawan — usually it would be you coming to me — but since you haven't…." His voice trailed off again for a moment.

"Yes?"

"I w-was just wondering if maybe… maybe you might consider taking me as… as y-your a-apprentice." Unable to look at Qui-Gon's face as he anxiously put forth his request, the youngling had once again taken up his sport of boot-staring throughout the entire broken sentence. Qui-Gon saw him risk a quick glance up, then drop his eyes when he saw the master staring thoughtfully at him.

Unwillingly, Qui-Gon felt himself melt just a little bit under the imploring appeal. It was so simple, so heartfelt… and yet he was incapable of granting it.

"I'm sorry, young one," he replied gently, and he meant every word of it. "But it can't be that way right now."

Obi-Wan looked up at him, and Qui-Gon saw there were tears in his blue eyes. "But Master…. You're my last chance. I'll be thirteen in less than a month, and then…" He sniffed, trying not to let the master see the tears sliding down his face. "…then it will be too late. I won't get another chance."

Why did everyone have to make this so difficult?

"Obi-Wan, it just isn't possible at the moment."

"Why not?" the Padawan demanded, furiously brushing away the tears. "I don't have a master and you don't have an apprentice! What's wrong? Is it me?"

"Partly," Qui-Gon consented, swiftly seizing his chance to avoid complicated explanations. "Your performance during the competition was admirable, but how you achieved it has less to be commended. Your anger —"

"I already heard about that," Obi-Wan muttered resentfully. "From Bruck."

"He was correct in that respect, you know. You let it control you."

Then, suddenly and without the faintest idea how it had happened, Qui-Gon was facing a tear-streaked, feverishly shouting twelve year-old. "And maybe he was right about everything else, too!" Obi-Wan yelled uncaringly. "Maybe I am too clumsy, maybe I'm not good enough! But maybe it's because you're too cold to even notice! You don't care about anything, do you? You don't care if I get sent to the AgriCorps because you refused to give me a chance!" Veritably sobbing, he ran out of the room, but not without a last parting shot that reached Qui-Gon even from halfway down the hall. "You're a bloody rock!"

Qui-Gon was left where he had half-risen from the couch, staring unseeingly at the door that had slowly hissed shut without a care in the world.