A/N: *Deep breath* I finally made it! Now, onto the next bit.

Time passed quickly. Before anyone could count the hours, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were taken off leave and slated for a mission. Apparently, it was supposed to be a nice quiet outing, a straightforward diplomatic emissary to-

"No, don't tell me," Ben interrupted Obi-Wan mid-sentence. "I don't remember and I don't want to. This is your life now, not mine."

The apprentice quieted, but frowned slightly at the other Kenobi's words. "It's your life too. Just because it's changing now doesn't mean it didn't happen to you. Right?"

The raw, childish conviction in Obi-Wan's eyes only annoyed Ben so much because the boy was right. "I suppose," he conceded. "But the point still stands; I don't want to spoil anything for you."

Obi-Wan understood; but he couldn't help it if he was curious. "But isn't it all the same in the Force?" He asked in his most sagely voice.

Ben glanced down at him sidelong. "Not in this situation. If all were the same in the Force, why would I be here?"

Obi-Wan didn't miss a beat. "Now that you are here, all that you change is in the Force's control. If you were to tell me anything, it would be the Force's will."

"But it is not the Force's will, and therefore I will not tell you."

"That supposes that the Force's will operates in a linear cause-and-effect way, which your own existence has proven to be an indefensible assumption."

"A single exceptional circumstance does not preclude the legitimacy of well-documented archetype."

Obi-Wan shrugged in that smug way that teenagers adopted around his age; pretending that they knew everything in preparation for their immanent coming of age when they would, doubtless, actually know everything. The fact that Ben could restrain himself from rolling his eyes was a miracle.

"The Force works in mysterious ways, Master," said the omniscient youth.

"Yes, it does," said Ben in a dry, masterly tone, "and your senses are not yet so finely attuned to sense the fullness of its intricacies, padawan. Now run along to your master and for Force's sake, wherever you're going, don't talk yourself into disaster."

They reached the landing pad where Qui-Gon was waiting. Obi-Wan gave Ben a last wave and disappeared into the ship. Ben stopped by his master and sighed. "Your apprentice is insufferable."

Qui-Gon looked at him with surprise. "Is that an accusation, or a confession?"

Ben gave him a longsuffering look, wrinkles under his eyes more prominent than usual. Qui-Gon laughed. "What will you do while we are away?" He asked.

"Oh, I'll manage. There's Vokara to interrogate me, and Mace to glare at me, and even young Aola to educate me on galactic fauna. Plenty to keep me occupied." He smiled. "And what of you? It's… been a while." Six months was a long time to be off the field, especially after Tahl.

The weight of the unsaid did not affect Qui-gon's confidence. "The Force will provide a solution," he said, almost as if to convince himself. "I do not feel fit for it, but the Force is a powerful ally."

Ben glanced around the bay to see that no one else was near. "Emotion yet peace?" He submitted experimentally.

Qui-Gon's face relaxed somewhat. He looked uncertain, but nodded. "Yes. Something like that."

Ben smiled, and extended a hand. "May the Force be with you, master," He smiled.

"And also with you, Ben," Qui-Gon surprised him by reaching his free arm around for a brief hug.

"I expect you in the dojo upon your return," Jinn said, competitiveness shining through in his voice. "And this time, I will win."

"If the Force wills it," said Ben in mock humility. Qui-Gon shook his head

"You are insufferable."

They parted with fond laughter.

Ben did not realize how much of his life had centered around the Jinn/Kenobi team until they were gone. Isolation was a familiar, looming presence, and he struggled to keep it at arm's reach.

He studied, of course. He was not necessarily surprised, but alarmed to find new entries with the names of both Sheev Palpatine and Mace Windu in the newest archived council minutes, and spent about a week reviewing the proceedings of the intergalactic trade summit. Nothing too alarming caught his eye, but everything with Palpatine's name on it was suspect. When he found himself growing too frustrated with this line of inquiry, he sought out documentation of Senator Organa's career, which was proceeding well in the wake of his victories on Herdessa. He had recently been appointed to a seat on the Sentient Rights Coalition, the youngest member in over twenty years.

"Sounds about right," Ben had chuckled upon reading the news. Had he been allowed communications outside of the Temple, he would have sent a note of congratulations.

When he wasn't reading and watching holo news broadcasts, Ben spent a great deal of time with Feemor and Aola.

"No, no, the Nos Monster is from Utaupau!" Aola pointed. How one small twi'lek brain could hold so much information on intergalactic taxonomy was a mystery. Perhaps that was why her lekku were growing so much faster than the rest of her, Ben thought - her brain capacity had to keep up with her unbound energy.

"Of course, how could I forget," Ben said in dry apology, moving the holographic drawing from Tarabba to its sectorial neighbor.

On his lap, Aola leaned forward to pull up another sector so they could begin a new memory game. "You should draw the monsters for this one!" She told him, handing him the black holostylus.

"Oh," He demurred, "no, I don't think that wise. I've never been artistically gifted, I'm afraid. I've been told before that I would only ever succeed as an abstractionist."

Aola giggled. "That's the same as what Obi-Wan said!" She took the stylus and bit her tongue in concentration to draw a fanged, spiked, hissing creature – which of course she drew smiling. "You sound like him sometimes."

"I suppose I must," Ben said after a moment. "We are family, after all."

"Yeah, but not just alike. His voice is all weird, not like yours," the artist said, leaning back to inspect her work.

"How do you mean?"

"Sometimes he sounds like this," Aola explained, affecting a tone-deaf yodel reminiscent of Obi-Wan's cracking puberty voice. Ben guffawed.

"Yes," He said through the laughter, "yes, I suppose he does."

Feemor watched the two of them quietly from the doorway, smiling at their antics. His eyes lingered on Ben in particular, face shaded with an indecipherable curiosity. He turned away and left the two to their studies. He listened to their conversation as he retreated down the hall towards his quarters.

"You should draw this one, Master Kenobi. Please?"

A sigh from Ben. "I will do what I must."

Quiet for a few beats.

"You should draw a drop coming off of its tooth."

"Why?"

"Because it's venomous."

"Oh. Of course it is."

As ever, Ben managed to cross paths with Yoda often. Once in a while, Mace was there as well.

"Adjusting well, you are," the Grandmaster said one day while Ben was reading in the gardens.

"Well enough," he replied. He glanced at Mace. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Merely walking, are we. A treat it is to find you." The small master looked up at his former apprentice, who looked none too thrilled for seeing Ben. Yoda smiled and stepped forward. "Reading, are you?"

"Yes," Ben glanced down at his books and shrugged, wondering if he should hide them. "Some old council reports."

"About?" Mace asked, taking a seat on the grass across from Ben. Yoda took his time arranging a comfortable seat.

"Dealings in the senate," Ben replied, intentionally vague.

"You're studying,"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?"

"To learn my terrain."

Mace squinted at the obfuscation, but said nothing more. Beside the two, Yoda sighed contentedly, ignoring the tension between his former apprentice and his adopted apprentice.

"Your plants - how grow they, Master Kenobi?"

"Well, Master," Ben replied, puzzled by the change in topic. "The woosha in particular."

"Hmm," Yoda smiled. "Good that is. And your terrain," He pointed to the holobook in Ben's lap. "Clear it is?"

"Clearer than yesterday, master."

Yoda nodded. "Good this is also. Tells us you are doing well, Master Che does."

"That is all she tells us," Mace interrupted, staring down Ben with a calm but steely air.

"Patience it must take to study such vast expanses," Yoda continued, hands referring to Ben's book while his voice rapped the knuckles of his old padawan.

"I do wonder sometimes if I shouldn't take notes faster," Ben confessed in an apologetic tone, catching Mace's eye. The korun master clenched his jaw.

"Rush too quickly toward a cliff and fall you will," the green master said.

"And if you cannot see where the cliff face ends?" Mace demanded.

"Illuminate the path a single lamp will; follow it with a trusting step you must."

"But is a single lamp really enough, master?" Ben asked. The doubt in his voice gave Mace Windu pause.

"Hmm," Yoda considered the problem while both of his apprentices waited on his word. "When ready for soil and sun a plant is, crack its pot the roots will. But shrivel young leaves too much light will." He let this wisdom sink in before asking again, "your plants - how grow they, Master Kenobi?"

Ben saw through the metaphor and took a long moment to consider. "I often cannot see them growing," he confessed. "But I tend to them as best I can."

"Good. But mindful you must be, hardier new leaves are. Soon ready for sunlight they will be, where they can grow and bear fruit."

That kind of exposure was, of course, the goal, but it was also terrifying. "Yes, Master," Ben said in an admonished tone. Mace watched the exchange in silence, eyes somewhat softer than before.

They listened to the fountains, the leaves, the younglings across the garden. The plants around them grew at a microscopic pace. Yoda smiled.

"A nice day it is. Come. Meditate with me," He gestured to the two grown men as if they were younglings. Obediently, after sharing a brief glance of truce, Ben and Mace tucked up their knees, bowed their heads, and followed the Grandmaster into contemplation.

It took a full month before Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan returned. Their 'simple diplomatic mission' had turned into a plot straight out of a holo noir: the senator had been embezzling funds, his secretary covered for him because he had dirt on her scandalous sexual liaisons with the Prime Minister's brother (who was married). The day after Obi-Wan had unwittingly uncovered the incriminating ledger, the secretary was found murdered in the senator's office, but after a long investigation, the Jinn/Kenobi team concluded that it was not the senator who was guilty, but

"-his mistress, who'd blackmailed the senator into fraud in the first place," Ben nodded, eyes wide in freshly upturned memory. "I really had forgotten about that one."

"I don't see how," grumbled Obi-Wan, pulling off his boots for the first time in a week, "That cabinet was memorable in the worst of ways. I'll never forget it."

Qui-Gon chuckled, sharing a knowing look with Ben. "Ah, youth," He said, and Ben laughed. Obi-Wan blushed and sulked again out of spite.

"Are you here for long?" Ben asked as they shared dinner.

"No, I'm afraid. The council wants to see us again in a few days."

"Of course." Both Kenobis picked at their food in an identical show of disappointment.

"But I think we might have time for a spar tomorrow," Qui-Gon amended. Ben and Obi-Wan perked up at that, and ate the rest of their dinner without fuss. Neither of them seemed to notice the humor of their similarity, so Qui-Gon kept his smile to himself.

"Qui-Gon's use of Form III seems to be coming along nicely enough, oh master of masters," Feemor found Ben in the dojo showers. The freshly washed master chuckled.

"Well enough. I think he's only trying to beat me, now," Ben said, toweling his hair dry.

Feemor tilted his head curiously. "Wasn't that the plan all along?"

"Oh." Ben paused. "Of course."

"Mmm."

They walked together from the showers to watch Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finish their duel.

"You know, your use of Ataru is very reminiscent of Master Jinn's," Feemor observed.

"Form IV looks similar in humans."

"I saw you use a bit of Mikashi as well, did I not?"

Ben shrugged noncommittally. "What can I say? I am a jack of all trades."

"And a master of one," Feemor quipped. Neither of them said anything as they watched Qui-Gon execute a Mikashi riposte almost identical to one that Ben had used earlier.

"Who did you say your master was, Ben?" Feemor asked conversationally.

"Master Yoda."

"Really?" Feemor seemed surprised. "I feel like I would have remembered that."

"Not necessarily. I had a… complicated apprenticeship. I'd rather not talk about it, if I'm honest."

"You're telling me. But alright," the taller man conceded, though it was obvious he didn't want to. After a thoughtful pause, Feemor said, "You know, Master Yoda's style of Ataru is very different from Master Jinn's – and yours."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything," Feemor shrugged. "Merely observing." He glanced between Qui-Gon and Ben with that look in his eye again. Eventually it disappeared and he shrugged. "But I suppose you're right. Ataru just looks similar with humans."

And of course, amid everything else, every week on the same day at the same hour, Ben found himself sitting in the same chair in Vokara Che's office. He wondered if he wouldn't leave a permanent impression on the cushion.

The months of conversation revealed many facets of Ben's life. Most of them unpleasant. In the sixth month of his censure, he had to confess to her that he'd begun suffering nightmares. She'd asked if he needed a guided meditation to process them, but he'd replied that he only told her as a matter of duty; he had plenty of experience in dealing with night terrors.

She'd made a note about that.

They talked about his time on the council, how he'd been habitually drawn up in senatorial affairs from a young age, how he'd first decided to grow a beard because he looked like a baby without it.

"And what if Obi-Wan gets a similar idea?" Vokara had asked in jest.

"A fair point. Hopefully something will happen to convince him to do otherwise. I'll have to talk to him about that. Although…" He stroked his beard, cheeks dimpling slightly. "I must say at this point in his life he probably couldn't grow a whisker if he tried. And believe me, he's tried." They both laughed over that.

It had been a bright spot in Ben's torrid confessions, and was unfortunately one of the last laughs they would share in Vokara's office before his nine months of mandatory visits were up. They spoke also of his brushes with darksiders, his own temptations. They spoke of the blood on his hands from the war, how when he died, he hadn't seen the Temple in over twenty years. They spoke in vague terms, without names or specifics. Vokara's notebook still grew inches thick.

One particular day, however, trumped all others. It happened a short five weeks before his last meeting. When Ben arrived, Vokara seemed to have an agenda.

"Ben," She said seriously, brows furrowed in worry and something else. "I know you probably have something prepared, but I'd like to ask you something today." She was asking permission to question him, he realized.

"Very well," He allowed, disturbed to see her usual confidence subdued.

She fiddled with her stylus. "Did the Sith really come back?"

Ben froze on the spot. Had she warned him what she wanted to ask him, he would have refused. "Yes," he heard himself whisper.

Vokara blinked rapidly, swallowing stiffly as she jotted down her notes. There was a vast silence as she gathered herself. "You've already told me something today, but I want to ask you something else," she prefaced. Ben grit his teeth, everything in him wanting to leave, everything in him feeling bound to stay for the sake of Vokara's fragile composure. "…did they kill any Jedi?"

Even if he hadn't said anything, the answer would've been obvious on his face. "Yes," he said.

She took her notes with a shaky hand and fiddled again with her stylus. She was going to ask another question, Ben realized. He began to open his mouth, an escape route on his tongue, when she asked: "How many?"

Just before Ben could invoke the rights of their agreement, his ears relayed the contents of her question to his brain. His mouth paused as the rest of him tried to answer the query internally. He could not answer – not even for himself.

His eyebrows twitched. His frown went through several stages: first surprise, then confusion, then a final, sad realization. "You know," He said, looking at the wall like a man lost on a barren moon. He was speaking to Ben Kenobi as much as he was to Vokara. "I've never tried to count them all at once."

Vokara felt her heart crack. He looked to her, mind flung far from their agreement, from their meeting, from his censure. In his eyes, he looked like a lost boy. "I don't even know," He said, helpless. "I… I only know the opposite figure."

"What do you mean?"

"I only know how many Jedi they didn't kill."

Vokara was loathe to ask, so she whispered her question: "how many?"

"Well, there was..." Ben silently ran through the names he'd heard over the years. Shaak Ti. Ferus Olin. Quinlan Vos – Yoda? "Five? No wait, four." Shaak Ti had been killed, he remembered. "Or…" He looked up and saw Vokara's horror painted in shades of blue. "Or maybe… by the end, it was just one." Just me. "I hope not. I always hoped not, but I was never sure," he rambled, looking just as lost as before. She watched him in stunned silence. "I'm… I'm still not sure."

Vokara felt as though she should ask another question, but could not find her voice. After a while, they left each other in silence. She began a new sheet of flimsi for her notes. It would be the shortest entry in her booklet.

Sith killed all. Ben was the last.

She stared at the sheet in silence for a long time. Fighting back tears, she sunk into meditation, sensing the light of every Jedi in the temple. All in all, she counted ten thousand, seven hundred and ninety-two lives shining all around her, strong in the Force, alive. She went back to her desk, added the number to her notes, and wept.

Plumbing the depths of Ben's pains and history was an arduous task only lightened by the reality of the Here and Now. Here was opportunity; here was a second chance. Now was his chance to work toward the balance that they'd never found in the past. Now he was not alone; now he had friends like Vokara to help him.

He shared this insight with her during one of their meetings, and it seemed to solidify a bond that had been forming over their many months together. They were natural enemies; patient and healer, stubborn will against stubborn will. But they were both Jedi, they both knew the truth, and they both looked hopefully to the future. During the last month of their appointments, they spoke for the full hour and then some, about Ben and about the Force, and about the future.

"You realize that next week will be our last meeting," Vokara told him one day, tidying her sizable stack of flimsi sheets.

"Well," Ben said, "I have a rather important week in front of me, don't I?"

The week was even more important than Ben could have anticipated.

After Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had resumed their normal lives of continual missions with hardly a week's rest in between, Ben found companionship with Feemor. They ate together, shared drinks together (caf at Feemor's, tea at Ben's). They dueled together, Ben's Soresu continually outshining Feemor's preference for Niman, but often by a thin margin. They spoke of Aola, and the Force, and teaching. They laughed at each other's stories and bonded over their mutual friendship with Qui-Gon.

Near the end of Ben's censure, Feemor had begun to grow quieter in their conversations. He watched Ben more than he spoke, often with a glint in his eye, a question waiting to be asked. Ben hardly even noticed. Feemor had been looking him oddly for months, now, to the point that Ben had stopped paying attention. It was this inattention was what would eventually expose the mystery.

"-and of course we're both disgusting, hair grown out, beards full. A mess. My braid had stuff growing in it. And Qui-Gon's master-"

"Dooku?"

"Oh, you know him? Well, he was the first person we run into as soon as we land."

"Oh no," Ben smiled at the tale.

"Oh yes," Feemor grinned, "And he looks right over me to Qui-Gon, and looks him up and down, and says," Feemor tipped up his chin and affected a bass Coreworld accent. 'You look like an overgrown, flea-bitten lothcat. Force's sake, Qui-Gon, go bathe'," Ben laughed heartily at the impersonation. Feemor continued, "And then as he's leaving, he goes, 'and cut off all that ridiculous hair'. And I... I've never seen Qui-Gon puff himself up quite like that. He showered, but he didn't shave, and he's kept the same hair ever since. I swear it's only because his master said anything."

Ben's face was split for laughter. "Oh, that sounds exactly like him – I had no idea!"

"Really?" Feemor said through his chuckling, "I imagined you would have been around at the time. When did you two meet?"

"Oh," Ben floundered. "When I was an apprentice. But I was too young then, I imagine."

"Hmm," Feemor said, a bit too bluntly. He shook his head and smiled. "Having Qui-Gon as a master… it's an experience unlike any other."

"Oh, I'm sure," Ben smiled.

"He drinks more tea than water,"

Ben laughed. "Yes,"

"Gets up before dawn. Obsessed with the Living Force to a fault,"

"Oh, finally someone else who sees it," Ben exuded. Feemor laughed. He began watching Ben more intently, even as Ben had his eyes tossed back in memory.

"Talks back to politicians, befriends street beggars and riffraff,"

"Yes and yes,"

"And of course, he never listens to anything the council says,"

Ben giggled. "Truer words were never spoken."

Feemor smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I suppose that must run in the family, eh, Obi-Wan?"

"Well it's not my fault that he set a horrible example for-" Ben froze and turned to Feemor in shock. They stared at each other in equal surprise – Ben's face tinged with horror, Feemor's with soft victory.

"What did you call me?"

"Ah," Feemor said, and ducked his head. "See, I didn't expect it to be that easy."

"W-what?" Ben was reeling.

"Your name isn't Ben, is it?"

"I…" Ben shapped his mouth shut to gather himself. "I don't know what you're talking about, of course it is."

"Your name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"That's absurd."

"That's why Qui-Gon listens to you. That's why you know so much about him, about Obi-Wan, too. That's why your fighting styles are so similar, why you sound like Obi-Wan sometimes." The glint that had been in Feemor's eyes for months was now a beacon, shining with confirmed suspicion. He bore it with unnerving calm. "That's why when you found out about me, you worked so hard to get us to come to a truce. That's why you've somehow adopted yourself into our lineage – because you are part of the lineage. You are Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you were Qui-Gon's apprentice."

The quickfire accusations left Ben with nothing to say. He struggled to find a defensible cover story. "I," he began stupidly. He'd never been struck so witless in all his life. "What you propose is impossible," He flubbed. "Feemor, Obi-Wan is fifteen years old. I am in my thirties. We're both here at the same time - what do you make of that?"

"Time travel, of course," the man shrugged.

"What?" How, how, how?!

"I know it's a fringe theory, but I've a contact over at Coruscant Core University, and he's made some compelling presentations over the years. Admittedly he is a total eccentric, and the science is lightyears away from creating anything practical, but…" Ben could hardly believe his ears. How long had he known? "…the Force works in mysterious ways, does it not?"

Ben couldn't speak. "Um. Well. Yes."

Feemor gave a small smile, watching Ben's expression with a sense of concern. "You alright?"

"I'm… surprised, is all." Ben laughed at the absurdity of it all. "Of all things, I didn't expect anyone to figure it out."

"So you admit it, then?"

"I…" he looked up at Feemor, completely vulnerable. "Yes."

Feemor grinned, a new light in his eyes and a smile to match. "Well then," He reached out a hand. "Nice to meet you, little brother."

Ben was too overwhelmed to make a suitably solid memory of the moment. They shook hands. When Obi-Wan was unable to come down from the shock of the confrontation, Feemor put a reassuring hand on his back.

"I'm sorry to startle you. It's not just something you can ask a person, I had to trick you into admitting it."

A long pause while Obi-Wan collected himself. He cleared his throat and asked as calmly as he could, "Did Qui-Gon teach you that?"

Feemor snorted. "He did, actually."

They laughed, Obi-Wan's voice a bit hysterical. His hands were visibly shaking as he ran them over his face.

"Who all knows?" Feemor asked, exuding an apologetic calm

"Um… Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan." He glanced at Feemor. "You, apparently. The Council. Vokara Che."

"That's it?"

"So far."

Feemor nodded. "So… why are you here?"

Obi-Wan let out a laugh. "That is an exceptionally complicated question."

"Aye, I thought it might be," Feemor said, standing. "I went out and bought some of your wretched leaf water so you'd have something to drink while you told me about it. Come on. I'll make us some dinner."

The rest of the week was a blur. He met with Vokara and told her one last thing about himself: he'd chosen the name Ben when he'd gone into hiding.

"I suppose it's fitting," she'd said. "Not so much has changed." He'd smiled. He never told her that Feemor had figured it all out.

He received a notification that he was expected to appear before the High Council at zero eight-hundred ours in two days time to review his censured status.

The day before his hearing, he woke up to find his woosha plant spilt over his tea table, soil everywhere, fat roots pushing out from shattered bits of pottery. He sighed, gathered it up in a sheet, and carried it to the gardens.

It looked so small and awkward in its new place among the other plants, Ben thought as he packed soil about its base. Would it last? Would it get enough water? Would the sun burn it up?

"Tend to our plants well, we do," Yoda said from over his shoulder. Ben turned to look at the grandmaster. How was he always here?

As if sensing the thought, Yoda chuckled. "Better to grow here in the sun and the breeze than wither away indoors."

"I still don't know if it will survive," Ben admitted.

"It is with the Force, is it not?" The small Jedi began walking away, gimer stick brushing the grass. "Care for its own, the Force does, young Kenobi. Trust it you must."

Ben gave his floral charge one last look of commission. "Yes, Master," he said, and made himself leave the woosha out in the open garden.

The next morning, Ben rose with the sun, bathed, dressed immaculately and even trimmed his beard. He strode to the Council room with assurance in every step, mind running through every speech he had prepared to defend himself.

When he was let into the chambers, he was surprised to find someone already standing before the council: Vokara Che. She shared a somewhat apologetic look with him and stepped aside so he could stand in the center of the circle.

"Master Ben Kenobi," Mace Windu opened proceedings. "You have been under formal censure by this High Council for these past nine standard months, is that correct?"

"Yes, Master."

"And for those nine months, you have not left the Temple, served in any instructional capacity, or spent any funds not rendered to you for basic living necessities?"

"I have not."

"And for every week in this censure save for two, you met with Master Healer Vokara Che, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Master Vokara," Yoda took over the discussion, "spoken with Master Kenobi as many times, you have?"

"Yes, masters."

"And analyzed his mental, emotional, spiritual health, you have?"

"Yes, masters."

"About his unusual past you have learned? Determined how it may affect his present?"

Vokara glanced at Ben. "Yes, masters."

"And what can you tell us?" Mace asked. Ben frowned; this was not part of their arrangement. He wondered, suddenly, if the arrangement of confidentiality had been sanctioned by the council.

"I can tell you," Vokara began, head held high in professional assurance, "that I believe he is fit for duty."

A few grumbles about that. Ben wished he could've thanked her for her discretion. "And what of his outbursts? His violation of the Code, his recklessness?" asked Plo Koon.

Vokara took a moment to gather her thoughts. At length, she said, "Having heard a great deal about Ben's past and all that he has been through, masters," She glanced sheepishly at Ben. "We ought to thank the Force that he is not much, much worse."

Not even Mace said anything to that.

A silent round of inquiry ran about the room. Mace looked to Depa, who looked at Adi, who tilted her head toward Shaak, who's lekku pointed at Plo Koon, who shifted his weight toward Ki-Adi, who looked to Yoda. Yoda nodded, and Mace drew a breath.

"Master Kenobi, you are hereby reinstated to active status within this Order. You may leave the Temple and receive a senior allowance. You may also request a mission or a placement as an instructor, though be aware that such placements will be subject to the council's approval."

"I would like to make a request now, if it is convenient."

Convenient was the not the same as conventional. The Master of the Order was not fond of being moved from convention. Mace looked up at Ben with deep chagrin. "Yes?"

"If the Council sees fit to assign me to any mission in the future – which I admit seems an unlikelihood considering my own reprehensible behavior on my last assignment, I would like to humbly submit a request for missions within the Galactic Senate." Most everyone in the room seemed surprised by that – everyone but Yoda.

"Know your terrain well you do," the Grandmaster observed. Ben squared his shoulders and added:

"Specifically with Senator Bail Organa from Alderaan. If possible."

He was surprised to hear some soft muttering at that, but Mace only blinked and said, "Very well. Your request will be duly noted, Master Kenobi." He waited briefly for any forthcoming comments from the rest of the council. There were none.

"Let the record indicate that Ben Kenobi was reinstated from censure on today's date," Mace said. "Master Che, you may go."

After Vokara left, the council members filtered out of the chambers behind her, until only Yoda and Ben remained.

"Growing well in the garden, your plant has been."

"For one day, master," Ben said. Yoda shrugged.

"A day, a year. These measurements matter not. All is one in the Force when its will we follow. Know this you do, Obi-Wan. Come, sit."

Obi-Wan did so, kneeling on the ground in front of Yoda's chair so the two were almost eye-to-eye. "Told much to Master Vokara, you have. Much about the future, about your past, hmm. Tell me,"

"Master Yoda," Ben broke in, "I can't-"

Yoda held up a hand for silence. Ben quieted. "Tell me not of the future, or of the past, or of yourself. Tell me not of what told Vokara you did. Tell me only of what learned you have for the Jedi. What learned you have in here," he poked a claw at Ben's chest.

Ben took a deep breath, sifting the tidal wave of answers that rose in his chest.

"A darkness looms," he told the Grandmaster. "One that we cannot see – one we will not see. Not even you. It will come to us from within."

"Fear," Yoda guessed.

"Yes, master, and more. That is why I am so loathe to speak of it all; why I cannot tell you or the council. I do not want to be the instigator of the very darkness I seek to guard against."

Yoda nodded sagely. "Wise you are. Know well the virtue of caution, you do. But be mindful, Obi-Wan, of the Force. Bring you and your knowledge back here to hide it did not. Share eventually, you must. Be prepared, you must."

"I know, master," Obi-Wan bowed his head. "And with the help of the Force, and of my Jedi family, I will be ready."

A grin creased Yoda's face. He reached out a claw to pat his great-grandpadawan's head. "A wise man you have become. Now. Get up you will. Comm Senator Organa, I must."

Ben's sagely airs disappeared in a puff of surprise. "Bail? Right now?" Yoda grunted as he let himself down from his chair.

"Tried to contact you many times the senator has, requested your help specifically he has. Annoyed that you are not allowed communications while under censure he is, keeps trying anyway. Promising young man. Stubborn." He glanced up at Ben with a parental kind of exasperation. "Familiar it is, annoying. Ready for him to stop pestering me I am."

"Will I go back onto the field then?" Ben asked, eyebrows high. "Will the Council let me work with Senator Organa right away?"

Yoda chuckled mischievously. "So ready you are to join the world of politics," he hummed, eyes light. "So eager, hmm? Good this is. Obi-Wan," Yoda fixed Ben with a deep stare, a stare that had seen hundreds of generations of Jedi come and go. He smiled. "Much work to do, you have."

"He figured it out?" Obi-Wan hissed over the comm, voice cracking terribly in his surprise. "How in the nine hels does someone just figure that out?"

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon scolded.

"Sorry."

Ben was smiling widely in his darkened apartment. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself. Feemor is an observant fellow, more so that I'd expected."

"He is," Said Qui-Gon's baritone voice in pride. "I am glad he knows."

"As am I. By the way, Obi-Wan, Aola wanted me to say hello. She has a slew of drawings she wants to show you when you get back."

Obi-Wan chuckled in that insecure sort of way that older siblings sometimes do; they love the younger generation, even if they cannot admit it on principle. "Alright," he said awkwardly. "Wait, does she know, too?"

Ben laughed. "No, Feemor thought it best to keep that our secret. For now, anyway."

"It's probably for the best," Qui-Gon said. "You mentioned that the Council might send you on a mission straightaway?"

"It sounded that way, at least the way Master Yoda told it. I'm to be working with Bail Organa, a young senator from Alderaan."

"Oh yeah, you mentioned him," Obi-Wan remembered.

"He is a good man – and apparently he's been pestering Master Yoda on my behalf for about four months."

Master and Padawan laughed. "I'd like to meet this senator," Qui-Gon said.

"I'll have to introduce you one day." A pause. They were nearing the end of the conversation, they all felt it. "I do not know when I will next see either of you." It made him feel far more nervous than he would have expected.

"We will see each other between missions. It is the way of things."

"Of course." Of course the would. The prospect of living the life of an active Jedi and having the assurance of seeing Qui-Gon – alive, healthy, present, was a gift he'd never imagined. "Well. Until then, Master, Obi-Wan."

"May the Force be with you, padawan."

Ben smiled at how natural it sounded, even with Obi-Wan there. "And also with you – both of you. Until we see each other again."

They clicked off their comms and Ben turned away, picking up the files that Bail had sent him hours ago. The lists were long and wordy, packed with talk of senate meetings, committees, bills, and coalitions. Some of them he recognized. Others he did not. They were all, in their own ways, extremely important. He waited only on approval from the council. Eventually, he decided to go to bed. He'd need his rest.

Tomorrow, the real work began.