The Book of Pauses
Qui-Gon stormed through the Temple's central corridor. His agitation was evident in the quick clip of his pace and the constant clutching of his fists. He paid little attention to the other figures moving quietly about the long hall.
Their expressions meant nothing to him.
He didn't care if they noticed the rage fluttering just beneath his usually placid surface.
Breathing deeply he tried to calm himself. Naturally it didn't work. He cast out on the Force searching the immense temple for a signature that had once been familiar.
One that he could no longer understand.
The meditating gardens.
Qui-Gon almost laughed at that. Where else would Obi-Wan be? He didn't need the Force to tell him that.
Still, he sought out his former apprentice's signature just to be certain.
With every step, Qui-Gon worked to squash the rage that had flourished in him.
He was failing miserably.
All he could think of was the questioning, wounded look Anakin had when told him of the confrontation with Obi-Wan.
Was it not enough that Obi-Wan had betrayed him before the Council?
Even after all this time, his former apprentice still felt it necessary to attack Anakin.
Again, Qui-Gon drew both his hands into tight fists.
This was going to end and this would end now.
Turning a corner he slammed into Mace Windu.
Both men stared at each other.
"What's the hurry?" Mace asked, sensing the raging emotions the Jedi master was doing little to hide.
"Excuse me," Qui-Gon half growled as he tried to step around the council member.
Mace put out his arm blocking his friend. "I don't think I like this."
"You probably won't," the graying Jedi master said continuing on.
"Stop," Mace ordered, grabbing Qui-Gon's arm.
"Let me go."
Both men met in a long gaze.
"Let me give you a piece of advice," Mace said calmly. "Go meditate." He loosened his grip on Qui-Gon's arm. "You two haven't been in the temple for two days and you're already stirring up trouble."
"I've warned him about messing with Anakin!"
Mace eyed his friend. "I was under impression that Anakin sought the confrontation."
"He thought he was helping. He thinks we should reconcile. But Anakin didn't deserve to be attacked like he was."
There was a moment of silence as Mace studied Qui-Gon. "Half a dozen reports came in of Anakin screaming in the corridors. He was saying something to the effect that Obi-Wan had betrayed you."
Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath as he cast his gaze away from Mace. "He should not have been voicing such a private opinion in such a public manner."
"Oh, I see," Mace said, contemplatively rubbing his chin. "You share this opinion?"
"This is not a concern for the Council," Qui-Gon said stiffly.
"It is if you're out to pick a fight. Qui, I appreciate that there are some hard feelings between you and Obi-Wan. But I will not stand by and allow this temple to become a battle ground in your personal war."
"Mace—"
"No. You will go and meditate. If I sense so much as a ripple I'll personally toss you off the nearest balcony. Are we clear?"
Qui-Gon stood there silently.
"Are we clear?"
"Yes."
______________
The Book of the Meddling Troll
Loneliness.
It came in waves like the shifting sands of Tatooine.
Try as Obi-Wan might, he was never able to bury the memory of the desert planet.
It often came to him. Tainting his sleep. Corrupting his meditations.
The sand never went away like the heat of the dual suns.
The only warmth he had left.
When the images, the heat, of Tatooine came to him in his meditations so did the silence.
The emptiness.
The loneliness.
The powerlessness of it all.
"No," he groaned as he fought to drag himself from the depths of the haunted meditation. Too often he felt himself lost in a never ending sea of sand.
Jerking violently, Obi-Wan lost his balance in his meditative stance and fell backward into the thick grass of the meditating garden.
Exhausted by the exertion to escape the meditative nightmare he just lay there and stared up into the thick, red and gold foliage of the ancient yawen tree that sheltered him. A loud sigh escaped even as he studied the gently shifting leaves.
"Time to sleep, this is not," Yoda chuckled as he hobbled across the grassy plain of the meditating garden.
"I wasn't," Obi-Wan growled as he pushed himself back into his meditative stance. He didn't offer the little master even a glance.
Yoda sighed loudly. "Still the visions come?"
"Or dreams. Or madness. What ever you want to call them," Obi-Wan said sharply as he roughly pulled the protective layer of his cloak tight. "I don't want to discuss them."
"Ready, you are not, understand I do." Still, the little master stood silent as if waiting for the knight to change his mind. Finally, Yoda sat down on one of the large roots that ran across the ground providing him a perfectly scaled chair. "Bali Tiro."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and just stared at Yoda.
"The little initiate."
Nodding slowly, Obi-Wan understood who Yoda was referring too. The last image he had was of the little boy fleeing down the hall wiping away a bloody nose. "Is he all right?" He whispered softly yet coolly.
"Fine, yes." Yoda stared at the knight kneeling in a meditative stance before him. "Confessed all, the other boy did."
Indifference clouded the knight's aura. "Good."
"Humph," Yoda grumbled as he leaned heavily against his gimer stick. "Think of the boy, you do?"
"No, Master."
"Humph!" Yoda jammed the gimer stick into Obi-Wan's arm. The knight flinched but didn't give the sought after yelp. Ignoring the fierce look Obi-Wan shot him, Yoda continued, "Hard working, the boy is."
"Most padawan's are," Obi-Wan said dully.
"Reclusive. Someone else reminds me of." Yoda went on irritably as he considered Obi-Wan's reaction. "Hard it will be finding him a good master."
"I am not interested in taking on a padawan," Obi-Wan said coldly.
Yoda squinted as he drew his ears back. For a long time he studied the other man. "Sense it I do."
Obi-Wan stared at the little master for a moment. "Sense what?"
"Fear."
"You are mistaken, Master."
"Am I?" Yoda asked indignantly. "Closed yourself off, you have."
"Master—"
Yoda struck out with his gimer stick and smacked Obi-Wan against his sore arm eliciting a wince. "Touched his mind, didn't you?"
"No, Master—"
"Blocked him."
Agitated with the line of questioning, Obi-Wan turned his attention away from the little green master.
Again Yoda was silent as he contemplated the figure before him. Sighing loudly Yoda spoke up again, "Small for his age, he is. Bright. Hard working."
"It does no good to extol his virtues to me. You should speak to another master who is willing to take on a padawan." He was quiet for a moment realizing he was a little sharp with the master. Sighing loudly he shifted back slightly as he tried to explain, "I don't attend to missions that would be appropriate for a padawan."
"Dangerous missions." Yoda breathed. "More you have taken in four years than most masters take in a lifetime." Yoda slipped from the root and hobbled over to the knight. A small green hand rested next to the bandaged wound on Obi-Wan's arm. "This life was never meant for you."
Obi-Wan pulled his cloak a little tighter.
The action did not go unnoticed by Yoda. "You have lost your way along the path."
A deep frown creased Obi-Wan's tired face.
"A routine you must find. Return to center you must," Yoda advised.
"I don't think I can handle this life again."
"Forgotten how to live, you have."