Chapter 12: Arpate

Reformation Year 976.11.21

Sundari, Mandalore

The place where Siri had shot him, through the gap between plates on the back of his right shoulder, was blistered and sore with an ugly burn, but otherwise undamaged. Obi-Wan winced as he applied a cooling salve to the area, grateful for the armour he'd been wearing. Concord Dawn's beskar veins were poor, leaving the Journeyman Protectors reliant upon the more common durasteel plating. What little beskar the planet possessed was fashioned into armoured fabric that was impact-resistant, difficult to cut, and dissipated the worst of a laser bolt's energy, although repeated strikes would eventually burn through. It might not withstand a lightsaber, but it was definitely an improvement on the standard.

And it kept being shot at close-range from being debilitating.

The Protectors had insisted he keep it - as Davin had said at the time, "Armour does nobody any good stored in a locker." The neck reinforcement had been repaired - "Exactly what did I tell you about arm-wrestling Wookiees?" - and division patches carefully removed from the sleeves, and the full set had gone into a bag for him to take back to Mandalore. Satine had given the case a beady glare through her bright smile as he stepped off the MSS shuttle and kissed her in greeting.

"What's that, darling?"

"A gift of appreciation from the Journeyman Protectors."

Her lips had thinned into a disapproving line when she'd taken a look inside later.

Now he perched on the edge of the counter in his suite's 'fresher, twisting awkwardly to reach the part of the burn along his shoulder blade. Satine entered without knocking, her hands full of medical dressing and what looked like a container of actual bacta, and paused.

"Come down from there, darling," she huffed. She looked like she was torn between laughter and exasperation. "I knew you'd probably got yourself hurt. We do have a medic here in the palace, you know."

"Yes, I know, but medics fuss more than they need to." Obi-Wan offered a grin, knowing he looked a bit more rakish than usual - his hair was falling into his eyes again.

Satine chuckled and made him turn around so she could smooth bacta over the burn. "And you do so hate being fussed over."

He did his best to avoid wincing; her fingers were gentle, but the burn was tender. He supposed he ought to be grateful it wasn't the numbness of potential nerve damage instead. "There are others who need the attention more urgently. I just need help reaching."

"Oh, is there something the Force isn't capable of doing as well as a pair of hands?"

Meeting her glance in the mirror over the sink, Obi-Wan said, "Several things, not all of which are suited for polite conversation." Satine blushed brilliantly, caught between amusement and embarrassment.

He regretted it a moment later when she pressed a bandage over the burn, hissing through gritted teeth as his hands gripped the edge of the vanity.

"There. With that much bacta, it shouldn't scar." It was Satine's turn to catch his eye in the reflection, a quelling look on her face. "Have you learned your lesson, darling?" She didn't wait for a response as she turned and left.

Obi-Wan sighed and reached for the scissors to trim his beard, starting gingerly but gaining confidence as the bacta's painkilling properties started to work. A lesson had been learned, although likely not the one the Duchess was referring to.

The little bistro had its outer walls open to the fresh air and bright early sun, but the interior was shadowed and lit with ambient orange light from behind shield-shaped fixtures on the walls. The lunch crowd was light, but that promised to change soon. Tovari could tell that Scogar - Obi-Wan, she reminded herself, but it was so difficult to think of him that way - had never been in this part of Sundari before, and it wasn't hard to understand why: it wasn't called Little Keldabe without reason. As far as she knew, Satine had never bothered to visit. The pinched vowels and rolled Rs of the Northern accent filled the air alongside the scent of palaks'a and hukaat'alayi frying in the street-vendor carts, making her nostalgic for a part of her homeworld she'd never seen.

How ridiculous to have never visited. It was on the same planet, but may as well have been in another universe. She'd be as much an oddity there as she was here in the place she'd been born.

Tovari insisted on an inside table for them, making sure Scogar sat with his back to the rest of the room, and once the host had departed she leaned forward to say softly, "The media is out in force today. You have no idea how bonkers they went when you disappeared for four days."

Her friend blinked at her in bafflement. "Me?"

One of the human servers, Rald, came over and greeted her, introduced himself to Scogar, and left a menu and two glasses of water for them. Tovari waited for him to be out of earshot before continuing, "Yeah, you. It's ridiculous. My aunt said your friend was close to pulling her hair out. So now you're back, and unanswerable questions are being asked."

"And this is why I kept that helmet on while I was away."

"Smart of you. Anonymity might be something to consider." They took a moment to order food and Tovari rested her elbows on the table. She'd come from work and was still dressed sharply in the kind of suit she only wore so the Southerners she worked with would take her seriously; for his part, Scogar had dressed plainly if well, nothing close to the overwrought court-garb Satine's tailor had foisted on him. He never looked comfortable in that flouncy stuff, anyway.

She resisted the urge to touch his hand where it rested on the table; the vultures from the gossip rags had enough sordid speculations as it was. "So tell me, Scog'ika, what's bothering you?"

Sighing, Scogar leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his steepled fingers. "So...I'm not certain how much Jedi philosophy you're familiar with-"

"Just the clichéd stuff they use in all the holos."

"Right. I believe the simplest way to put it is that I nearly lost my shit and killed someone. I'm not certain they weren't deserving of that fate, but...I don't know what it would have done to me had I succeeded."

Tovari held up a finger in a silent request for a moment to consider. She sipped her water and frowned at the unlit candle in the centre of the table. The Jedi stuff was something she was only passingly familiar with, and although she was touched Scogar trusted her enough to want to discuss it, she wasn't certain she'd be of any help. "You're in contact with your former teacher, right? You don't think he'd be a better person to talk to?"

"He might understand the consequences better, but...we were trained under the same philosophies. It's very absolutist in its own way and, well...it's why I'm no longer a Jedi." His smile was lopsided and a little sad. Scogar never had explained what had happened, although the mildest of HoloNet searches had provided plenty of detail about what happened on Naboo. Someday she might get the full story from him, but she wasn't going to push at what was still a healing wound. "The problem with being raised in a temple is that you lose touch with how the world beyond the walls sees things."

Tovari's eyes were drawn to Rald's approach and then beyond the young man's shoulder. She squinted. That was definitely a too-blond Southerner head lurking near the vendor across the street. "Here's our food but don't turn. Someone's got a camera drone aimed at the back of your head."

"Oh, wonderful. We should have met in your office."

They nodded politely to the server as he departed and Tovari grinned. "And pass up the opportunity to introduce a friend to proper civilization? I come here once a week when I'm on-planet, partly to support my people and partly to outrage the Southerners I work with who wish we'd just integrate already."

"Well, proper civilization smells delicious." Their plates were a riot of colour, the spiced braised meat topped with finely-chopped herbed fruit. Tovari showed him how to layer everything onto the small, thin slices of toasted bread and enjoy it properly. He fumbled a bit and got sauce on his fingertips, which he licked clean without apparently considering what a horrific tease that was.

Enough drooling, woman. Tovari cleared her throat politely. "So. What you're wondering is if the risk of breaking your old rules is worth it?"

That self-deprecating lopsided grin came back. "Being kicked out of the temple is a good threat to make a young apprentice behave, but that particular worst case has already happened. Are the behaviour guidelines necessary for life as a normal person?"

She aimed a slice of bread at him. "Now you're talking morality versus prescriptive behaviour. Those are two different things. People largely don't care why you do something as long as the result is positive. If you'd killed...that guy," she stumbled a moment, trying to not say anything specific to maintain the illusion that she was not out with Sundari's resident former Jedi; the media had systems capable of reading lips. Nosy bastards. "You'd likely have been thanked for it. You may also have landed a target on your back from his boss, but that's a risk any lawman takes, Force-user or not. If you'd caved and asked your team to back off, people would have got hurt, possibly he'd have killed his hostages anyway."

Scogar looked troubled. "Hurting myself would have helped in the long run."

None of that, now. "Would it truly be self-harm, though? That's what your temple says, but that's because it runs counter to their prescriptive behaviour, not their morality."

He shook his head. "Morality and adhering to prescribed behaviour in the Order are the same thing."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." Scogar blinked as her in surprise and she grinned tightly. "I know your teachers would say otherwise, but that's an aspect of religion, not common life. People do a lot of good things for shitty selfish reasons. Sometimes good reasons lead to terrible things, despite the best of intentions, and it's the results that are remembered. It doesn't matter how wonderful a person was, if their actions caused trauma to others; those other people will still be hurt after the apologies are made."

Giving a quiet sigh of consideration, Scogar took a moment to collect his thoughts; Tovari let him muse in silence. Eventually he shook himself back to reality. "I've been so concerned about my initial brush with the Dark side, I didn't consider whether I might still be using it unintentionally." She tilted her head in curiosity and he explained, "The Force simply exists, and what we think of as Light and Dark 'sides' are really two parts of a whole. Despite having good intentions, I've been drawing on some emotions the Jedi would consider Dark - anger, frustration. For a moment, probably hatred. I didn't recognise them as being negative at the time because I was focused on how we were doing something good."

Tovari gave her friend a gentle smile. "Those things you call Dark emotions are common every day. Anger tells us when something's upsetting and is somehow registering in our brains as being wrong. How do the J- your people deal with that?"

"In theory, Jedi are meant to analyze how we're feeling and then release the emotions into the Force so we can deal with the situation objectively. I-" he inhaled sharply through his nose, something approaching regret crossing his face. "I haven't been doing that lately."

"Why not?"

"It seemed unnecessary. If I wasn't going to be a Jedi, why should it matter? But," he sighed. "I'm still a Force user. An admittedly strong one, and I ought to have better control than that."

She winked at him over her glass. "Sounds to me like you know what you need to do, Scog'ika. Your teacher's suggestion to come here might have been more in the hope that you'd be able to figure things out where it's quiet. Maybe now he'll know where you can go to learn better control."

Tovari hadn't been kidding about the media circus; not knowing exactly what the cover story was for his absence or if Commander Ojira even wanted his involvement publicly known, Obi-Wan had to smile politely and advise them to direct their questions to the Duchess' public relations people. Tovari had a magnificent soulless smile that was more like bared teeth. It grew even wider when they were asked how they knew each other.

"We've worked together in the past. Jedi Kenobi and I were just catching up."

The speeder she'd called for before they left the restaurant didn't take long to collect them, but it was long enough. Someone from Satine's PR team hurried out onto the platform to meet them as they arrived. "Please, please, can you not go out in public without warning us?!"

It took a couple slow breaths for Obi-Wan to drop the desire to snap at the man; he looked genuinely frazzled and distressed. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name-"

"Aythan."

"Aythan, right, I'm sorry. Were our responses wrong in some way?"

"What? Well, no, but...ugh." The man ran a hand through his pale, bristle-short hair. "Look, it's documented public record that you and the Duchess are a couple; you can't just be alone in public with another woman or the gossip-"

"In that case, I can't be seen alone with anyone," Obi-Wan huffed, irritated. "I have more than one type. That's ridiculous, Aythan. I'm not a pet." From the corner of his eye, he caught Tovari's grimace, so quick it could have been mistaken for a twitch. But that's what I am, isn't it? Damn.

He took a moment to compose himself while Aythan fumbled for words and continued to dig himself a deeper hole. "Aythan. I'm sorry. You're just trying to do your job. This is a matter Satine and I need to discuss between ourselves without expecting her staff to act as translators. I know I don't have much of a schedule for you to track, but I'll warn you if I make plans in the future."

The other man looked nervous but relieved. "Thanks, no, that's fine, we appreciate it, Jedi Kenobi. You two know each other?"

Tovari, the picture of manufactured serenity, nodded. "We served on a ship together while I was gathering information. We really had no idea who each other was until I came home."

"Ah, well, that's good, thanks. If you'll excuse me…." Aythan trotted off, muttering into his datapad's audio recorder.

Obi-Wan pinched the pressure points on his forehead against the impending headache. "If it isn't one thing, it's another. I'm beginning to get quite tired of this, Tovari."

"Beginning to?"

She had a point. He turned and offered her a hug which she accepted with a pleased smile. "Thank you for helping me escape the palace for a bit, it was delightful. I think…I need to meditate for a bit."

Meditation didn't provide any stunning insights, but it helped to settle his mind as he waited for Qui-Gon to respond to his texted request for a comm call. Obi-Wan had asked for his dinner to be sent to his suite, something he often did when he was puzzling over Qui-Gon's research results, and was just finishing when the comm chimed.

Obi-Wan activated the scramblers he'd placed around the latest set of audio snoopers and realized that he was genuinely excited to talk with his former teacher again. It put a grin on his face as he accepted the connection.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan. Or is it evening there?" Qui-Gon was still wearing a loose sleeping shirt, a steaming mug of tea sitting at hand.

"Close to it. Good morning, Anakin," Obi-Wan added when a round face topped with blond hair peered over Qui-Gon's shoulder. The spiky Padawan cut seemed to suit Anakin much better than it ever had Obi-Wan.

"Hi, Obi-Wan!" Anakin had an opened ration bar in one hand and carefully set a cup of juice on the desk beside Qui-Gon's tea. Obi-Wan cringed inwardly as the boy dipped the ration bar in the juice; he'd done so himself at that age, when the tough bars had hurt his baby teeth as they loosened, but it hadn't improved the flavour.

Qui-Gon shifted his chair over so Anakin could crowd into the pickup range beside him. "You seem very upbeat today. What have you done this time?" The crinkle of humour at the corners of his eyes belied the bland expression, and Obi-Wan shook his head, amused.

"Oh, trying not to drive Satine's staff to tearing their hair out."

Anakin found that hilarious. Qui-Gon smiled indulgently as Obi-Wan launched into the finer details of not being a public embarrassment to a high-profile public figure.

"You never told them about Garen?"

Taken aback, Obi-Wan sputtered for a moment. "I never told you about Garen! And anyway, no, they only assumed and never bothered to ask."

"You didn't have to tell me. Masters just know about these things."

"What about Garen? He's fun, by the way."

Obi-Wan struggled and failed to stop a laugh. "We dated for a short while before deciding we'd drive each other insane. And he is a lot of fun." He caught Qui-Gon's amused-but-horrified-but-amused look and relented. Filthy jokes around impressionable young preteens weren't necessarily the wisest of ideas. "It was completely against the rules for Padawans, but then I also kissed Siri once-"

"I didn't know about that." Qui-Gon looked indignant and Obi-Wan winked at him. Masters didn't see everything.

"Has Garen got you into trouble, yet?"

That was a decidedly fishy look the kid snuck Qui-Gon's direction before he drawled, "Nope, we're too good to get in trouble."

Obi-Wan bit his lip on a grin and his former master turned to give Anakin his full attention. "There are ways to suggest that you simply haven't been caught which are not so obvious, Padawan. Do we need to review the basic diplomacy texts again?"

Watching them banter gave him a pang of nostalgia, but not homesickness; it was a warm ache with only a hint of the old melancholy, and Obi-Wan found himself grateful that Anakin had that same connection he had once treasured. Speaking of which…. "How was the trip to Naboo, by the way? You neglected to send any sort of proper message along with the files," he chided, giving Qui-Gon a mock-stern look.

"We were in something of a rush at the time. My apologies."

Anakin was practically bouncing, jarring both cups, which Qui-Gon pushed back from the edge of the desk. "Qui-Gon said it was your idea to get my mom out of slavery!"

"Hmm." He smiled fondly at the memory. "I was very out of my head on some very good drugs, right after surgery, but I recall it seemed like the most important thing in the galaxy. I grabbed Qui-Gon-"

"Literally, both hands. On my head. It was awkward."

"It really was. And I told him he absolutely needed to find a way to get your mother free and somewhere safe."

"And then he passed out."

Obi-Wan laughed. "They were really good drugs."

"She's here on Coruscant, now! And she has a job, and they pay her and stuff! We have dinner together sometimes. Next time you visit, we should all get dinner together."

Oh, to be that young and optimistic. "Anakin, I've never met your mother. She wouldn't have any idea who I am."

"Psh, Qui-Gon tells her all about you."

Aiming a raised eyebrow Qui-Gon's way, Obi-Wan murmured, "Does he, now?"

The faintest flush was colouring his former master's cheeks and Obi-Wan forewent a laugh in favour of maintaining that uncomfortable eye contact. It wasn't often he managed to discomfit Qui-Gon, and he intended to make the most of the moment.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I had mentioned you before, when we stayed with her on Tatooine. She's asked how you're doing."

"Yes, I understand I'm a great source for comedy at the moment."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Merely because it's so unexpected. I thought you might have opportunity to relax there, but it seems quiet is not what you found."

Obi-Wan pinned Anakin with a look. "Always remember that 'may you live in interesting times' is a curse, not a blessing. Interesting does not always mean pleasant."

Anakin nodded and inhaled the last of his ration bar. "I hafta go to class. Bye, Obi-Wan!"

"Have a good day, Anakin." He waited until the boy had left and settled back in his chair, squinting at his former master. "Something's bothering you, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon scowled over his teacup. "Am I that easy to read?"

"We lived together for seven years. Maybe not by others, but I can tell."

The lines between Qui-Gon's eyebrows deepened. "I've been fighting the Council with regards to Anakin."

"More notably than usual?"

A smile tugged at the corner of his former master's mouth. "Yes, actually. Anakin is struggling with some of his education - I was prepared for that, and he's getting help he needs. It would help more, though, if his spare time could be spent in the Temple rather than the Senate dome."

Obi-Wan straightened in his chair, frowning into the comm pickup. "The Senate dome? Why in blazes…?"

"It's at the Chancellor's request." He scoffed. "Well, request should probably be amended to something shy of an order. To his credit, Mace is unhappy about this, but feels his hands are tied."

Alarmed, Obi-Wan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "What's going on there?"

"The Chancellor wants to socialise with Anakin, it seems. I've taken up tutoring advanced courses in interspecies diplomacy, and a few promising duellists, so that I have a reason not to be sent on solo missions. I'd prefer to be there with Anakin when Palpatine invites him for tea."

"I bet he loves that."

This time Qui-Gon looked smug. "He tried to talk me out of it the first time, but honestly I like having a reason to lurk on Senate sessions without being accused of Council interference. It helps me stay current with the politics, and I can bring it up in the diplomacy classes later. I do wonder what sort of political points the Chancellor is trying to score in having Anakin around the Senate, though, and with whom."

"Has he given any reason at all?"

"He claims to feel grateful for Anakin's role in liberating Naboo...although he never seems to want to speak with me about it, nor does he ask after you."

Obi-Wan huffed. "It seems some heroes are more special than others. I'm offended."

"You are not. Although Lott Dod does rather look like he's tried to eat a cactus every time he sees us there. It's delightful." Qui-Gon's grin was just shy of wicked.

"What does the Chancellor talk to Anakin about? I can't imagine they have that much in common."

"How frustrating the political process is, mostly; I'm sure most of it goes right over Anakin's head. He asks about Anakin's friends and classes, and does an excellent job feigning interest." Qui-Gon shook his head. "Honestly I'm not certain what the man expects to hear, but he asks every time anyway. I've advised Anakin to not mention his mother to anyone, including the Chancellor; the Council still has no idea she's here, and I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible. I don't trust a politician to keep information like that to himself."

"How do you explain Anakin visiting Shmi?"

"It's not difficult." Qui-Gon folded his arms, looking pleased. "I contacted Master Uiirda some time ago about therapists who might be familiar with both Jedi and former-slave repatriation. Anakin has regular appointments, and Shmi started going on her own after we'd mentioned the visits. It gives Anakin an evening a week after his appointment to see his mother, at any rate, and Doctor T'ko agrees this is a good thing."

"Oh, that's a relief." The boy's energy hadn't been quite enough to overwhelm the unchildlike deference he'd held toward authority figures - more than just respect but fear in the way he'd suddenly rein himself in and apologise profusely. The Council's absolutist attitude towards their decisions couldn't possibly have helped.

"It is. So what can I help you with, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I can't just comm to catch up?"

"It's been nearly three months, Padawan."

He winced; guilty as charged, and the use of his former title, with that much warmth, made his heart ache. "In my defense, I didn't feel I'd done anything worth talking about. There hasn't been much going on until recently." He gave Qui-Gon the only vaguest outline of what had happened, conscious of security matters, although he did mention Siri's involvement. Council methods be damned; she needed more than one person knowing what had happened to her.

Qui-Gon's expression didn't change from one of parental concern as Obi-Wan talked. It gave Obi-Wan a bit more confidence to admit how dreadfully he'd lost control; had it been any other Jedi, he might have hesitated. But Qui-Gon had been there for him before.

His former master was silent for a long moment once he finished. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to fidget, but Qui-Gon's gaze had focused through the pickup and somewhere past Obi-Wan's right shoulder. At last the Jedi Master said softly, "You want to learn to use the Dark side of the Force."

"When you put it like that, it doesn't sound nearly as positive." It was a poor joke that faltered and collapsed as he said it, but Qui-Gon didn't seem to notice as he sighed.

"On Naboo. When we faced the Sith. I let him maneuver us apart."

"I had noticed."

Qui-Gon's mouth turned down and his brow pinched in an expression that showed far more regret and self-loathing than Obi-Wan had expected. "I had a vision, a dream, during the journey from Tatooine. Maybe it occurred because meeting Anakin tangled his life's thread with ours. Maybe it was simple proximity to him-"

"You don't really think he's the Chosen One, do you? Belief in prophecies and destiny isn't something Living Force adherents consider worthwhile." He was mostly teasing, but did genuinely want to know what in blazes Qui-Gon had been thinking dropping that particular thermal charge in the middle of the Council chamber. The boy's potential was undeniable - he shone so brightly in the Force it was intimidating, but the fulfillment of a dusty prophecy was debatable.

"Hm. Fifty-fifty." He met Obi-Wan's surprised look with a wry expression. "It was the first thing I could think of that might have convinced the Council - in particular, Yoda - to consider keeping him. Whatever the reason, I knew what would happen on Naboo. I knew that if we faced the Sith together, both of us would die, Anakin would be sent away from the Temple and he would end up in the hands of someone...terrible."

"The Sith Master?"

"I don't know. There are so many terrible people in this galaxy who would leap at the chance to possess a young, untrained Jedi. Whoever it might have been, Anakin falling into their grip would have been my responsibility because I was the one who had insisted upon bringing him from Tatooine. I saw there was a slim chance that, if we were separated, one of us would survive the battle to take care of him. But the person to engage the Sith on their own first would die. I couldn't let that be you."

Obi-Wan sighed and hung his head. "And then I had to go and do things my own way, regardless."

"This is a very good example of the future always being in motion." One side of Qui-Gon's mouth tugged up in a self-deprecating smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad to have been proven wrong on both counts."

Thinking back on the past few months, Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm glad you were, too."

"Your friend is correct in that Dark emotions are a natural part of living. Jedi are expected to keep a tight rein on them purely because we can turn word and thought into deed far more easily than any non-sensitive."

Qui-Gon sighed, and Obi-Wan recognised what a difficult position he'd put the man in. There were a hundred reasons why he shouldn't do this - reasons why he could go to Bandomeer and the AgriCorps and make a peaceful life tending new growth there, reasons why he should content himself with assisting the common folk on a comfortable planet like Mandalore, where the Darkness of the galaxy's underbelly was a faint shadow and putting his life on the line was unnecessary. A thousand reasons why he could continue the Order's current course of aiding the worthy rather than the needy, and never put himself at risk again.

The thought sent a cold spike of denial down his spine that settled in his gut.

"Master," he said slowly, considering each word before uttering it. "The Jedi...do not do enough. Not for the people who truly need our help. And we hold back so much because we are afraid to risk our own purity of self on behalf of others. It's...it's a form of attachment, Qui-Gon. We're taught to put the good of the many over that of the few, but never to put the good of those in need over our feelings of self-worth. The restrictions placed by the Senate give us a publicly palatable excuse to not do everything we could."

The other man's eyes had gone wide and he opened his mouth to speak; but once the words had started, they wouldn't stop. Obi-Wan continued, "There's no longer any risk of my actions reflecting badly upon the Order. And-and maybe it's a good thing that this happened, because I can potentially act where the Jedi cannot - because of the Senate - or will not. It's...an experiment."

"Obi-Wan, you're not expendable-"

"I don't intend to die for this. Most Jedi believe the Light and Dark are two distinct aspects of the Force. But when did the Jedi cease trying to understand fifty percent of the world?"

"Many Jedi who studied the Dark for the sake of understanding it Fell-"

"Fallen, Darkened, and evil are not synonymous unless the mere act of Falling or state of being Darkened are considered to be evil. Evil is an action, Qui-Gon. It's an intent to harm selfishly, it's an act without care for the consequences. Am I evil, Master?"

"You know I don't think that."

"I'm already Fallen, Qui-Gon. What could it hurt?"

Qui-Gon had straightened in his chair with alarm; now he glared at Obi-Wan through the comm feed. "It could hurt you, and then I would be responsible for that, as well."

"By that logic, you already are responsible. You took me on as a student when you could have left me where the Council sent me; you trained me. You tried to save my life on Naboo, and I wouldn't let you, and here we are." Obi-Wan breathed out his irritation and tried to banish the scowl from his face. The best he could manage was an exasperated frown. "Qui-Gon, it's still affecting me. I have a lot of...baggage, that I thought I'd rid myself of already. The least I can do is learn to be responsible about my own Darkness rather than letting it build up and explode."

Qui-Gon pressed his fist to his mouth, frowning in thought. Obi-Wan gave him the time. Questions of morality and responsibility had been subjects for heated debate among expert scholars for millennia; they certainly weren't going to resolve that question tonight, but perhaps Qui-Gon could stop blaming himself for what had happened on Naboo.

"And if what you learn encourages you to act on behalf of others regardless of their own preferences?"

He smiled sadly. "You spent several years teaching me to keep the needs and desires of those I wish to aid in the forefront of my concerns. Do you trust me to remember those lessons and follow your example, regardless of where my path may lead?"

His former master's eyes softened. "I do. If this is truly what you choose…"

"I truly don't want to, but I think it's necessary."

"Then you should go see my own former Master. Dooku has rescinded his place in the Order and returned to his family home on Serenno."

Obi-Wan straightened in shock, leaning toward the comm feed intently. "He left the Order?! When? Why?"

"Several months ago, in part because of the way the Naboo crisis was handled. But his heart has been troubled since the events on Galidraan twelve years ago, and then the loss of his last Padawan, Komari. He feels as you do: that the Jedi could do more, and are too tied to politics to go where we are truly needed. It isn't widely known, but he was seeking a way to unify Living and Unified Force philosophy, and did some study of the Sith to find the source of the schism. He may have what you need, or at the very least might suggest a place to start."

"Are you certain about this, Obi? You've only just returned, surely Master Qui-Gon could look in on his former master, if he was truly so concerned?" Satine was pacing in front of the window in Obi-Wan's room as he packed. This was not going as she'd planned; for the life of her, Satine couldn't understand how he could be so content with being on the move. Could the man not consider setting down roots for more than five minutes?

Her lover glanced up from the bag he was packing. He'd carefully folded a selection of the less-florid garments he'd acquired over the past few months courtesy of Satine's tailor. As upset as she was, Satine approved his choices: Dooku had reclaimed his house title of Count, and Obi-Wan knew better than to show up at the palace looking like a courtier. "It's only Serenno, darling. It's practically next door, and it's certainly easier for me to go than for Qui-Gon to get leave to travel from the Temple. Besides," he added with a grin, "he's probably having just as much trouble adjusting to non-Temple life as I've had. We can discuss how to make it easier for both of us."

He disappeared briefly into the 'fresher and returned with his shaving kit. Most other necessities had already been stored onboard the shuttle Obi-Wan had requested; at Ethyne's suggestion, they'd granted him a modified Aka'jor that had been confiscated from a group of Death Watch a year previous. It had better shielding than the factory model, although it really needed a crew of two for more than short journeys.

Satine watched as he tucked the kit and an impressive stack of datacards into the bag. If that was what his research had become, the Republic was going to have their work cut out for them cleaning up the Trade Federation's mess. "Exactly how long are you planning to be there?"

"A couple of weeks, possibly a month. I'm not opposed to staying to assist him for a while, if he needs it." Obi-Wan laughed, and the careless sound made her prickle with indignation. "Or I could be back in a few days if he decides he doesn't want to see me."

"You don't have an invitation?!"

"Given how little spare time the head of one of Serreno's Great Houses likely has, it's better to be immediately available. I'll go to Carannia first and wait on his terms rather than make him wait on mine."

He sounded so certain of himself. "Obi, how well do you know this man?"

He leaned against the bed's solid footboard and hooked his thumbs through his belt; it was a roguish pose she'd always found appealing, possibly because he lacked the arrogance that could easily accompany it. "We've seen each other at range but never met. Qui-Gon has apparently kept him informed of my existence. I'm not going to ask my former master to arrange an introduction: the Count might easily mistake it for an attempt to get him to return, and refuse to see me."

Satine moved to stand in front of him and studied him critically. Obi-Wan certainly seemed more at ease than when he'd arrived, and there was a hint of something like relief in his eye. Maybe he had a point about needing to feel useful; she'd have a word with Ethyne about it later. "You seem to have thought this all out."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. You only saw how I handled things at the beginning of my training, Sati. I have six years of experience beyond that now." Obi-Wan rested his hands on her shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Believe it or not, I do know what I'm doing on occasion."

"I'll hold you to that, darling." Satine wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan's waist and leaned into his warmth and wiry strength. It was going to be a long few weeks without him. Again.