"-your centre?"

Obi-Wan's eyes blinked halfway open to a blurry world of green and brown. For a moment, they struggled to focus on the shifting figure before him. It was a few seconds before his mind caught up to his senses and Obi-Wan realised the figure was speaking to him. He forced his eyes open, and looked up sharply into Master Tyra's delicately lined visage. The grating feel of bark behind his head and the soft grass beneath his hands brought him back to full awareness of his surroundings. He was in the gardens, leaning against his favourite tree. And Master Tyra was apparently waiting for a response to her question.

Sensing Obi-Wan's utter disorientation, Begura's gave a small, understanding smile. "I asked if you'd had success in finding your centre. I assumed you'd come here to meditate."

Had he? Obi-Wan ran a hand over his beard, rubbing his tired, stiff jaw. "I suppose," Obi-Wan replied, trying to recall. Yes, now he remembered that he had come here to meditate that morning. By the light filtering in through the clear ceiling panels, he judged it to be around mid-day. Apparently things hadn't worked out quite as he'd planned.

"Was I asleep?" he asked. It was a bit rhetorical, but Obi-Wan was having difficulty admitting to the unlikely occurrence.

Begura nodded and offered him a hand, which he accepted, and helped the younger Jedi up from his haphazard slumber.

"What if I had been meditating?" Obi-Wan asked challengingly, trying to salvage some dignity as he brushed bits of bark off the back of his tunic. "It would have been rather rude to interrupt."

Begura shook her head slightly. "You forget, Obi-Wan- I've raised two padawans. I have learned to tell the difference between meditation and sleeping while in a meditative posture."

Obi-Wan reddened a little. This was certainly the sort of thing he'd expect from Anakin, never himself. No wonder the Council had suggested he get some rest.

Begura studied Obi-Wan's red-ringed eyes, observing much without making it seem intrusive. Had he not known her, he wouldn't have noticed the surveying glance. "The Cravos mission must have been more tiring than I'd thought," Begura remarked.

"It wasn't particularly tiring," Obi-Wan replied. "There were a few days without sleep, but nothing extraordinary." To a non-Jedi, the comment may have seemed ironic, but neither of them so much as cracked a smile. Such stresses were simply their reality, more and more as of late.

After a moment of contemplation, Begura took a step towards the stone pathway. By silent mutual agreement, the two Jedi began walking along it, deeper into the heart of the gardens. "You've had a busy month," Begura remarked, benignly enough, but with clear intention.

The conversation had quickly become one of those 'talks' Anakin disliked having with his peers and especially detested having with his master. The reminder of his padawan's difficulties did little to ease Obi-Wan's mind.

"But this has been a difficult time for all Jedi," he pointed out. Which was one reason why Obi-Wan was loathe to admit to any kind of impaired performance. "Our numbers are dwindling as our assignments increase. It isn't nearly a crisis, but everyone must pull his weight. You and Lena have hardly been relaxed."

"That's true," she admitted. "We've been busy, but our missions haven't been nearly as harrowing as yours."

Obi-Wan shook his head. Their mission assignments had been more demanding than other pairs, which was understandable. They had been gifted with certain skills and it was wise of the Council to use them where needed. But things had gotten closer and closer to being out of hand on each successive mission. "Anakin and I seem to invite various kinds of mishap," he said.

"I believe every Jedi in the Temple has seen the collateral damage at one point or another," Begura said, trying to elicit a smile. Obi-Wan obliged, but it was only half-hearted, and he knew she could tell.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Begura was willing to listen if he wanted to talk, but was not going to force anything. He did the same for her and the other masters in their kata group when they needed it. It was the kind of understanding most Jedi had with their friends and peers. It amounted to peculiarly quiet conversations by outside standards, but with empaths, words were not always as important as mere presence and tacit understanding.

Begura was the first to speak, when she realised Obi-Wan was not going to. "You've been doing a wonderful job with the kata group lately." When he'd been around for a day or two- but that went unsaid.

"Thank you. I enjoy it, actually. I wasn't sure if I would."

"I've been here," she paused and smiled slyly, "a while." That almost made Obi-Wan grin. "And I've learned that, secretly, all Jedi enjoy something. I enjoy swimming, you enjoy sabre lessons, and Master Dargo enjoys inventing new stern expressions."

Now Obi-Wan couldn't help but grin at the expense of that particularly abrasive individual. Of course, he realised Begura was intentionally trying to disarm him, and his smile did not quite reach his reddened eyes.

"My padawan was wondering if you might be able to help her brush up on her accuracy," Master Tyra said, adding, "Of course, I told her you might not have the time."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I would like to help Lena, of course." But it was clear he hadn't had time lately. And now… well, he hardly doubted Master Windu would include extra sabre practices in his definition of 'resting'.

Begura nodded her understanding, replying before he had to explain. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. She will understand. We've all been carrying a lot of weight. Some carry more weight than others." Begura looked over at him meaningfully, which he chose not to acknowledge, but kept looking forward.

"We do what we must," he said, folding his arms slowly up into the opposite sides of his cloak, closing up some. "But we must also acknowledge our own limits."

"The occasional need for a reasonable amount of sleep is hardly a limitation to be worried by," Begura chided.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan replied lowly, "That isn't the reason Anakin is with Yoda rather than here with me."

He could sense Master Tyra's growing understanding and saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. "I assume this has to do with your conversation with Master Windu this morning."

"I'm not resentful of it," he assured her. Certainly, he had felt that way at first, but the more sensible part of him had quickly realised that was rather puerile. The Jedi Council acted out of wisdom, not pretension. "I understand their reasoning. Anakin is… important."

"Everyone is important," she insisted. But she knew what he meant. That she did not deny it was significant. "You seemed very worried about him this morning. Has he not been doing well?" Begura asked.

Obi-Wan answered carefully. "His skills have been progressing at a nearly alarming rate." He gave a small grimace. "But then that's hardly the same thing, is it?"

"No," Begura conceded. "But it's also hardly cause for undue alarm. First, it is important to remember that Anakin is seventeen," she pointed out. Obviously, he knew how old his padawan was, but he managed to bite back his unwarranted sarcastic comment to that effect. He knew the point she was making- this was the most difficult age for many people. That Anakin was no different was supposed to assure him, but it did not.

"Besides," she added, "Everyone has their shortcomings."

"Which has become glaringly apparent so far today," Obi-Wan said. His eyes met briefly with his friend's, and he could see she was about to protest his self-derision. He stopped walking and cut her off with a curt wave. "The Council's concerns about Anakin are valid. If they are concerned, shouldn't I be as well?"

Begura paused and seemed to consider whether to agree or not. But the way he had phrased it, he knew she could do nothing less. "Yes, of course. But," she added, "you should consider that they genuinely want to allow you some time to rest as well. It doesn't mean they believe you're ill-equipped to see him through."

Obi-Wan's jaw had been set as stone before she'd begun speaking, but his obstinance was wearing down more quickly than usual today. "Perhaps not," he said. His features softened and he unfolded his arms. "But it seems that I could point him to the stars and he would only see my finger. It becomes," he paused, his eyebrows lifting in a helpless plea to the heavens, "discouraging, to say the least."

Begura remained silent, listening, but willing to let him speak. Obi-Wan realised he'd been prattling on. "I suppose I'm being melodramatic," he half-mumbled. It was a terrible thing to admit- much too like something Anakin might do. "After all, I'm sure every master has had similar struggles with his padawan at one point or another." Now that he thought about it, he was feeling perfectly ridiculous for making such a big issue of the whole thing, really.

"Anakin is a good boy," Begura assured him. "You are helping him to become a good Jedi."

Obi-Wan did not doubt that Begura believed what she said. It was not simply a comment meant to bolster his ego. She truly believed in him, just as he knew there were others who truly believed in him, including many on the Council. He wondered if they realised that confidence only made his burdens more daunting.

But he couldn't say that to her, of course, nor to any of them. He was a Jedi Knight; this was his duty. He had pledged himself to it knowingly. This was no place for self-doubt. After all, how could Anakin trust him if he did not trust himself? But then that was a moot point, since Anakin clearly trusted him anyhow.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said finally, with a bow.

Understanding the polite dismissal, Begura returned the respectful gesture. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan," she said.

"And with you," he replied, watching her as she disappeared down the path towards the way they had come. For the good the talk had done him, he was still unable to return her kind smile. Instead, he set off purposefully down the path, continuing toward the spot at the very pith of the gardens.

Here he came to a small clearing, ringed by a carefully trimmed, tall hedge. It was concealed from any outside eyes so as to provide an even more perfect solitude. As he had hoped, there was no one here at the moment. It was not a frequently occupied spot, as it was understood to be reserved for only the most crucial meditations.

Just being in the spot seemed to draw Obi-Wan naturally into a more calm state. Without making a sound, he headed for the shimmering domed structure in the centre of the clearing. It stood a few heads taller than Obi-Wan and measured some three metres in diameter. Silently, Obi-Wan removed his cloak and lay it on the ground. Then he slid off his boots and stockings and set them beside the mantle. Taking deep, calming breaths, he stepped inside the arched entrance to the dome.

His lungs were immediately filled with the gentle spice of the incense that burned on tiny stone squares all around the perimeter of the floor. Obi-Wan's bare feet sank gently into the soft, grey ash that covered the ground. It was re-covered, he knew, by the burning of twigs and branches that fell from plants all over the garden. It was like a gentle cloth against the calloused soles of his feet.

The most striking feature, however, was the dome itself. From the bottom to the top, the walls were constructed from old lightsabre crystals. They had formerly belonged to some of the first Jedi, and had remained in possession of the Order for ages. They had been combined into this structure several millennia before. The darkest ones made up the bottom layer- indigo and deep jade that were almost impenetrable to light. The colours lightened as they reached towards the top of the dome, letting in the sun a bit more. And at the very pinnacle of the structure was a large, disc-shaped crystal cut into facets so numerous that every colour in the spectrum shone through at the peak of day.

It was, Obi-Wan reflected, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The meaning was certainly not lost on him, either, nor was it on any Jedi. It was, in essence, a reflection of the very nature of the Force. It encompassed all colours, all shades of life, and even death.

Rainbows of light danced across Obi-Wan's tunic, his hands, and his hair. He wanted to absorb it, to absorb this whole place, which, he supposed, was the point. It was peace and he most certainly needed peace. Even before he sank to his knees in the ash, he could feel the Force drawing his anxiety away.