Disclaimer: All belongs to the great and powerful Mouse.

Summary: The Force moves in mysterious ways and all are bound to its ultimate will, especially the Jedi.

A/N: So, good news and bad news... Good news is here is the next chapter and it's a little longer than the previous which I think you'll like. Bad news... I'm going out of town for a long conference and I fear it will interrupt my posting schedule, but I will do my best to have the next chapter if not up on Monday then not too long after. Thanks in advance for your patience and your loyalty!

A/N 2: Italics indicate emphasis, visions, personal thoughts and flashbacks. Context should illustrate which device is being used. / / indicates mindspeak.

Thanks:

Capurnia: I'm glad you liked it as there is much more of that particular interaction to come!

Francine: Hmm, what does Xanatos have to do with Obi-Wan's Force blindness? Guess you will have to read to find out!

Blue Jedi: I will cranking 'em out to the best of my ability!

Jewelie: Thanks!

Please R&R!

Chapter 11 – Serving Notice

Qui-Gon spent most of the afternoon reviewing the technical specs forwarded by Xanatos. The master had read through the dry descriptions of microcanonical adiabatic processes and municra gas exchange ratios in kinetic resonance induction drilling until his eyes began to cross and his mind began to wander to more mundane things like dinner and a hot shower. Qui-Gon sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the oft broken bridge of his nose as he resisted the dull ache blossoming behind his eyes. Opening his eyes once again, Qui-Gon laid the data pad down and rose to his feet, stretching as he did so. The muscles in his back and neck protested the movement after so many hours of hunched over reading, but a few isometric exercises eased the worst of the stiffness. The master donned his cloak and briefly considered a stop by the cafeteria, then noting the late hour he decided against it. Instead he made his way deeper into the dormitories. He paused before the desired door and rang the chime. After waiting a patient few seconds, Qui-Gon rang the chime again. Again, there was no response. The master took a moment and sent a tendril of Force into the closed room, searching for the familiar Force presence. It was there, but it seemed even weaker than before. Spurred on by concern, Qui-Gon overrode the door's simple locking mechanism with a judicious application of Force and entered the small room.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon called out as he stepped into the small, darkened space. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and the master could just make out the outline of a small figure sitting on the floor, his back against the edge of the sleep couch. Qui-Gon gathered his cloak about his large, rangy frame and sat down charily beside the boy.

"Obi-Wan? Are you all right?"

"I'm tired," the boy whispered. Qui-Gon suddenly felt a prickly itch at the back of his skull. The Force was issuing him a warning, but to what the master could not tell. Qui-Gon couldn't feel any danger or malice around them. Was the warning regarding the boy himself? Qui-Gon closed his eyes and focused all of his awareness on the child beside him. Through his weakened Force aura the master could still feel the boy's extreme fatigue and despairing spirit, but there was nothing he could sense that was urgent or life threatening. Qui-Gon opened his eyes and turned his gaze to his young charge. Temporary charge the master reminded himself, chiding. Obi-Wan was in need of help and the master would give any help he could freely, but once Master Ja'Prinn arrived Qui-Gon would return to both Coruscant and his duties.

"Come, Obi-Wan, it's time for rest," the master said as he rose to his feet pulling the boy with him as well; the boy's resistance to being moved laodicean at best. Qui-Gon gently placed the boy underneath the light bedclothes of his small sleep couch.

"Sleep now, young one," the master said softly. The boy closed his eyes in slumber under the heavy sleep suggestion. Qui-Gon then left the room and headed to his own chambers only noting remotely that the itch of warning had not abated.

The master did not notice the shadowed figure at the end of the hall that also turned to leave.

Morning seemed to find the master quickly leaving him far less rested than he had hoped, but there was nothing to be done about it and he had managed before on far less. After a quick stop by the cafeteria and a quicker firstmeal of some bread, cheese, and tea, Qui-Gon donned his cloak, hood up, and began the long walk to the southern mines. It would have been much faster to have borrowed a hopper from the Agri Corps transportation dome, but the distance wasn't far for a Jedi and Qui-Gon intended to use the time to think about his current situation.

Things on Bandomeer were nothing like he had expected. This was supposed to be a quick stop, an unscheduled layover for repairs, but instead the "quick stop" was rapidly turning into a confusing mélange of events that left the usually sure-footed master struggling to keep pace. First there was Kenobi and the strange illness and Force blindness plaguing the boy; and it was an illness of some kind, Qui-Gon was nearly certain of that. His meetings with the boy, though brief, had each time further cemented his own feelings and Force sense that something was wrong. The knowledge of the wrongness, however, did nothing to instruct the master on what he should do about it and before he had had any time to really focus on helping the child he was set off guard again.

Xanatos.

For years just the mention of that name, that memory stirred an ache in his heart and set his teeth on edge in impotent and useless rage. But here on Bandomeer, Xanatos was more than a memory. He was flesh and blood, breath and betrayal. Betrayal. That was what he was. To Qui-Gon's mind, Xanatos's fair skin, midnight hair, and cobalt blue eyes were just the pleasant packaging that concealed deceit incarnate. A man with a gilded tongue and a blade behind his back. A man waiting for his opportunity.

Qui-Gon stopped in his trek and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He took a deep breath and tilted his head to the sun, closing his eyes. Yes, he knew Xanatos, knew what the young man was capable of and he would not let him... Not let him what? Live? Qui-Gon lowered his head shaking it as he opened his eyes. The master didn't have an answer to that question nor was he sure he wanted one. Force willing it would not come to that and if it did... well, he would let the Force guide him.

Qui-Gon resumed his journey, focusing for the moment on just placing one booted foot in front of the other; a sort of moving meditation until he found himself some hours later standing before the empty mouth of the largest of the southern mines. Equipment of all types lay strewn about the cave's entrance. The rock itself was discolored in some spots, blackened. The master reached out with two fingers brushing the darkened, hard stone. The tips of his fingers came back covered in ash. A fire or an explosion. His thoughts drifted back to the Administrator's comments. Municra gas. He would have to be mindful. Highly volatile, municra was impossible to see, smell, or taste, but it was detectable in the Force. The master began to explore the interior of the cave igniting his saber to illuminate the shadowed tunnel. He walked for a long while passing more pieces of equipment, many scorched or damaged beyond use. He noted one that seemed to be the broken remnants of the resonance induction drill described in the technical specs Xanatos had provided him. Qui-Gon moved closer to investigate the broken drill more thoroughly. Most of the wreckage fit what he had read about the device, but there was another part that didn't appear to belong. He knelt, picking up an arm joint, its hinge twisted by intense heat. There was something odd about the drill tip. Qui-Gon studied the tip intensely for several moments trying to reconcile the twisted bit of metal with his memory of the schematics, but to no avail. This was a mystery to be solved later. He stood, pocketing the appendage in his cloak and continued his slow march deeper into the mine. Soon he reached a fork; three separate pathways carved into the stone. The master closed his eyes and reached out into the Force with his senses. He traced all three paths some distance only to discover that the mine was a labyrinth of tunnels as twisted and serpentine as a nest of vipers. It would be a simple thing to become lost here.

Qui-Gon turned around to make his way back to the mine's entrance when he felt a now familiar itch in the back of his skull. The last time he felt it he had attributed the sense of warning to Obi-Wan's presence, but now he realized it was something different. The master resumed his walk at an easy pace seeming to focus on nothing at all even as he extended his senses once again searching... searching... and this time finding.

He was being followed.

Qui-Gon made no move, no indication that he was aware of his tail only continuing as he had been even as he began his long walk back to the Agri Corp facilities. He would discover the reason for his surveillance later. Right now, the master had other questions and only one place he could find the answers he sought.

"Master Jedi!" the lab tech exclaimed slightly startled by the taller man's silent entrance. Qui-Gon bowed shallowly.

"Zilae, correct?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean you can call me Sair, Master Jedi," the young man stuttered. He flushed brightly, his pale skin now a rosy lavender. "Sorry, I am usually more articulate than this."

Qui-Gon smiled lightly.

"It is my fault for interrupting your work. I did not mean to startle you."

"You didn't... the work, I mean. You did startle me, but I wasn't getting much done at the moment. Too distracted," the Sephi answered as he turned on his stool away from his microscope to face his guest properly. "What can I help you with?"

"I would like you to analyze this," Qui-Gon said reaching into his cloak and retrieving the small machinery piece. He placed it in the young man's outstretched hand. The man immediately began to scrutinize the part examining and taking in what he could with his senses.

"What do you want to know?"

"What it's for, how it's used, how it can to be damaged, what it's composed of," the master said, his quickly rattled off list trailing away as he saw his point was made. Sair nodded in understanding.

"How fast do you need it?"

"As quickly as possible," the master answered and again Sair nodded his head then he looked up at the Jedi master, his light eyes intense with both worry and hope.

"Will this somehow help Obi-Wan?" he asked. With a noticeable frown on an otherwise serene expression, Qui-Gon was forced to shake his head.

"No, this is for something different."

"Oh," Sair replied turning back to his desk. "I hadn't heard anything from the doctors yet so I just assumed,"

"The doctors?" Qui-Gon interrupted, his tone a bit harsher than he intended. Sair swiveled his seat back to the master.

"High moons! You haven't heard have you?"

"What haven't I heard? What has happened?"

"Obi-Wan, he collapsed in the fields this morning. He was rushed to the medical building. I haven't heard anything since, thus," he said waiving his hand about indicating the stacks of incomplete work, "the distraction."

"No, I had not heard, but I will go and see to him now," Qui-Gon replied then with a curt nod he swept out of the laboratory the dark brown of his cloak swirling in his wake.

With hurried steps that didn't quite amount to running, Qui-Gon made his way down the long corridors of the science complex, under the weather-beaten awnings that connected the disparate buildings and domes, and into the quiet halls of the medical facility. There he encountered a young Arkanian female with bright white eyes and delicate lashes. Dressed similarly to the researchers in the science complex, she was donned in a light, white cloak.

"Can I help you, Ser?"

"Yes, I am here to see Obi-Wan Kenobi. I was told he was in your care," the master answered politely, but his tone denoted a sense of urgency that was not lost upon the young healer. She bowed her head politely.

"This way, Ser," she replied sweetly then she turned and began to make her way down a series of halls leaving the tall Jedi to follow quietly behind her. Outside of one of the many non-descript doors she paused turning to the master.

"This room is his, however, I must tell you he needs his rest. Your visit must not be overly taxing."

"I will not interfere with his rest, I assure you," Qui-Gon answered and, in return, the girl gave a demure smile gesturing to the door before returning to her post. The tall master opened the door and stepped into the brightly lit and sterile room. The small knot of worry in his chest expanded exponentially as he took in the room's occupants.

"What are you doing here?" he growled at the man hovering too near to Obi-Wan's bed. Obi-Wan, for his part, seemed to be asleep.

"One of my men was injured in a mine," Xanatos replied with a sigh. "I came to check on his condition."

"That does not explain your presence here," Qui-Gon snapped as he moved between the liar and the sleeping child. Xanatos, refusing to relinquish his spot despite the master's intimidating closeness, just crossed his arms over his chest, his chin raised in defiance.

"The kid was brought in while I was awaiting word on my man. What's in your head, Jinn? You think I did something to this child to put him here?"

Qui-Gon tensed slightly, his hand drifting to rest on his saber hilt.

"If you did it would be the last crime you will have to answer for," he responded. An unmistakable flash of anger surged across Xanatos's usually smug expression.

"I am no criminal, Jinn," he hissed then he closed his eyes. When he opened them, the smug expression had returned; a small half smile tugging at his thin lips. "What's your interest with the boy? Or is this yet another stray you've managed to pick-up?"

"My interest is only in keeping people safe from you," Qui-Gon answered coolly. "Now, get out."

"Hmm," Xanatos smiled as he turned and left the room without another word. Once he was gone, Qui-Gon allowed himself to a relax a moment before turning his worried gaze to the small, pale figure curled under soft blue bedclothes. He ran a hand lightly through the unruly and dull mop of auburn hair and saw the mop's owner frown mildly in his sleep at the touch. The master felt the dull ache in his finger tips as well and wondered once again what exactly was wrong with this boy?

Qui-Gon sat beside the small medical couch actively attempting not to brood and failing miserably. His thoughts chased one another in a vicious, never ending circle of guilt, frustration, and anger; each emotion heady and potent as it fueled its kin and displaced his center. Qui-Gon was absently reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose, something he had found himself doing a lot lately, when his eyes caught a small motion to his left. He turned to fully face the narrow sleep couch and its occupant and was met by sleep heavy and clouded eyes.

"Obi-Wan?" the master asked quietly as he reached out to remove a stray lock of hair from the boy's brow then suddenly aborted the movement remembering the minor pain his previous touch had inspired. "Obi-Wan," he repeated. "How are you feeling?"

Qui-Gon watched silently as the small, pale figure shifted slightly, barely uncurling from its tight, protective ball. If anything, the child looked younger and more vulnerable than ever before. His complexion was paler than last the master saw him, his blue-gray eyes flat, dull, and set inside darkened circles giving his appearance a sallow, sunken effect. Hair that was once the color of golden flames was now a limp, scraggly mess of rust color tinged tangles. Taken in all, the boy looked more than simply tired or sad. He looked like a person suffering from a great wasting disease, one that was slowly eroding everything healthy and happy within the boy.

Qui-Gon leaned closer to the child, allowing one arm to rest nearby on the edge of the sleep couch, but not quite close enough to touch.

"Obi-Wan? Please answer me, young one," the master said softly. Slowly, reluctant eyes drifted over his face before resting again to meet his steady gaze. Small, nearly gray lips parted slightly releasing only the barest of sound, a sound so low only the master's Force enhanced hearing permitted him to catch it.

"Tired," was the whispered response. Qui-Gon smiled ruefully.

"I know, child, I know," the master replied as he tucked the bedclothes more securely around one slender shoulder. "Obi-Wan, can you tell me what happened?"

"Nothing," the boy spoke in another strained whisper. It seemed as if the simple task of speaking threatened to overtax the already depleted reserves within the frail frame.

"Nothing?" the master repeated his brows raised minutely. "I was told you were unwell, that you were found in the yndeloi fields."

"Nothing," Obi-Wan repeated. "Nothing left."

Those two words were uttered with such soft finality that it chilled the master's soul to his core. They felt like a portent and the master found himself immediately having to release a substantial wave of fear into the Force. Qui-Gon reached out to Obi-Wan both with his hands and with his mind. One large hand rested on the boy's shoulder, the other on his forehead and even as they both felt the first brush of pain from the skin to skin contact, Qui-Gon pushed in with his mind. The moment the master touched the boy's mind every nerve along his neck and spine seemed to light at once. There was a fire in the back of his skull and a supremely uncomfortable pressure at his temples. As the jangling along his nerves worsened and the blaze in his head grew hotter, Qui-Gon tightened his grasp on Obi-Wan both mentally and physically. As expected, the intense pain quickly began to wan until the sensation was only an unpleasant tingling vibration along his nervous system. The initial discomfort passed, Qui-Gon directed his focus to assess the state of Obi-Wan's body and general health. He sensed the boy's bone deep exhaustion and a certain... sadness, like a film over his conscious mind, but there was more than that. Qui-Gon could feel something else, something like an echo in the vastness of the boy's too quiet thoughts. Mentally, the master cast himself a little deeper into the boy's mind in search of the elusive something only to find it when his own Force presence brushed up against something interminably gelid. Qui-Gon gave what only could be described as a psychic flinch. He had felt this only once before, back when he was a new knight struggling to eek peace from a war torn nation. He had been aiding in a make shift infirmary after a terrorist attack targeted a small restaurant near the governmental buildings. There was a woman injured severely in the blast; so severely the medics could no little else but make her comfortable. Qui-Gon had stayed with her, eased her passage into the Force by touching her with his mind and sharing his own sense of peace as he helped to banish her fear. With the confines of the woman's consciousness he had felt the approach of death, the slow march towards her end that was as steady as her heart beat had been before the bombing...

He felt that same touch now, in Obi-Wan's mind.

No matter what else was at play here, Qui-Gon now knew one thing with absolute certainty.

Obi-Wan was dying.

"You are behind schedule."

"There have been some... setbacks. The process you have insisted upon using is highly unstable. My men have taken severe injuries and,"

"I am neither interested in your miners or your excuses," the shadowed figure answered from the small screen of the communications terminal. Xanatos bit back an impatient frown.

"You will receive your shipment as promised. I honor my business deals," he replied with only a trace of annoyance. The hooded figured nodded slightly, evidenced only by the bob of the heavy material.

"See that you do."

"There is one more thing," Xanatos quickly added, interrupting what he knew to be a prelude to the end of the transmission. The hooded figure said nothing, waiting for him to speak. Xanatos took a deep breath.

"There is a Jedi here."

"And this should concern me why?"

"I... know this Jedi. He will not be deterred by the usual means," Xanatos said and for a moment the figure seemed to fall preternaturally still within the silence.

"Find a way to distract him. He must not interfere with your operation."

"And if I can't distract him?" Xanatos asked.

"You're a clever man, I am sure you will come up with something, because if you fail to deliver..."

"As I said before, I honor my business dealings."

"You had better," the figure retorted then the channel was closed. Xanatos leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes only to open them a second later as he slammed his fist on his desk cracking the glossy durasheen finish.

"Force damn you, Qui-Gon Jinn!"