A/N: Hello dear ones! And here it comes, the latest chapter of this soon-to-be-ended fic, that has really proven to be quite a behemoth to write! For those wondering why it seems I'm currently flooding the web with my musings - it's because I'm on holiday :). This chapter has taken a ridiculous amount of time, but it's because everything is finally revealed, leaving just the epilogue, that should be much easier to write.

For those who enjoy music, if you want to know which track inspired me, it was 'No Harm' by Editors, definitely helping a lot with the angsty bits :).

And now, without more preamble, enjoy I hope and see you below, Meysun.

Storms on Pijal (Stars of the Darkest Night)

A Star Wars Fanfiction by Meysun

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If you, my love, must think that way / I'm sure your mind is roaming / I'm sure your thoughts are not with me / But with the country where you're going

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Chapter Eight: Unraveling

Pijal, Royal Palace.

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The Force was askew, and Qui-Gon was floating, drowning in a strange, heavy sea of memories, unable to push himself back to awareness.

He was running behind his Master – or was it his former Master? He couldn't remember, it felt strange and somewhat wrong but Qui-Gon was desperately trying to keep up with Dooku's long strides, well knowing that his Master was not one to check he was following.

Good. Qui-Gon did not care to be coddled. All Qui-Gon wanted was get off Coruscant, see as many planets as possible and find the Force, and if it meant he was allowed to see stars above his head instead of skyscrapers, then he didn't really care to be called ignorant or even clumsy, with his too-quickly grown limbs, because he was off, he was free and he was a Padawan.

And his Master knew him for what he was, anyway, and had promised to teach him in the Force. So Qui-Gon held his tongue, and hurried along. And all the time, he rejoiced in the scent of incoming rain, of the cold wind around him, because the Force always seemed stronger outside.

"Master…? Master, can you hear me?"

Had he spoken? He had not intended to, he didn't mean for Dooku to look back and arch his eyebrows at him, and the sky above Qui-Gon melted into stormy grey that was staring back at him, making him feel so… much… older…

Darkness claimed him for a while, and when Qui-Gon floated back to a state that wasn't full consciousness yet, he wasn't a Padawan anymore, that was sure, because he had one, and he was determined not to let him out of sight.

"I do not like this, Padawan. Please, I beg you, let me do it.

- I'm not a Padawan anymore, Master. And what's more, they know your face. They will suspect you instantly. While mine is a complete stranger's. Now please, Master, stop fussing."

He had loved these playful green eyes so much. That shock of very clear blond hair, the way Feemor always managed to make light of almost anything. And now Qui-Gon was muted and had to watch him go to his death, deep down in Kessel's bowels, helpless and heartbroken.

"Don't go, boy, don't go, don't go…"

"I'm here, Master…"

But that voice was too soft. The hair belonging to that face auburn, not light as Feemor's, and Qui-Gon felt despair grip him, because Feemor had died on Kessel, had died because he had played bait and Qui-Gon had let him…

"I think you should get a grip. I'm not taking your Padawan from you – and I beg you to recall that I did not do so with you former one, either. No matter how eager you are to find a scapegoat. That is beneath you, Qui-Gon."

But it wasn't. It wasn't beneath him. Because Feemor had died a year into his Knighthood, at the cusp of his life, and what could Qui-Gon do but hold onto those facts, and try to take as many assignments as possible so as to make sure no young one was ever sent on such gruelling missions again? It couldn't be wrong. If it was wrong, then the Jedi were wrong. Then the Council was erring.

"Master… The Council sent us here. And I know you were against it. But please, Master, try to be at peace… Try to rest…"

The voice sounded so tired. It sounded like Obi-Wan's, on Draboon.

His Padawan was so weakened. Stumbling on with shivers wracking his slender frame, unable to keep food down, drenched in sweat he couldn't afford to lose, and it scared Qui-Gon. Because they could not stop, not with half of the Galaxy's bounty-hunters on their heels – and Obi-Wan knew it.

His fever was so high Qui-Gon could feel him lose his grip on his shields, and for the first time in years he sensed each of his Padawan's feelings – the way his heart raced madly, the way every step was painful, the way he still searched for him in the Force, desperately, like a small bird looking for the sun, and the way his hand was gripping the girl's, because his robin loved her, and because, even in the throes of illness he still remembered he had to protect her.

"He can't go on. Qui-Gon. Please. Look at him."

The girl's voice was frightened, and there were tears in her eyes. Obi-Wan himself seemed oddly detached, grey eyes glazed over bruise-like cheeks, swaying slightly under the unforgiving sun.

"He's barely there. He's losing… he's losing his hair."

She was crying now, and his boy – his boy would be unable to stand within minutes, Qui-Gon could feel him slip in the Force, strength bleeding out of him as he stood and swayed, not a word of complaint leaving his lips.

So Qui-Gon stepped up to him, and made him wrap his arm around his neck, lifting him under the knees and cradling him against him, like so long ago, when he had carried him to the Healers and understood that he would ask him to become his Padawan.

"You saved me, Master. Don't you remember? That is why we are stuck with Valentine… you used her leaves to make me tea, and you placed some of them on my brow and wrists."

Obi-Wan had burned like he was on fire, too far-gone in the Force for Qui-Gon to put him in a Healing trance. In the end, all that had been left for him and the girl was to stand vigil, in the cave where they had finally found shelter. And his boy had pulled through, like the steady, small wonder he was.

It was all thanks to Feemor. Thanks to the boy's wonderful passion for plants and healing – he would have made such a wonderful Knight, such a wonderful Healer… Feemor had saved his robin, not him, but his robin was in danger again, someone had shot their ship and they were careening towards the ground – but he was tired, so tired, unable to pull his lightsaber and to burn a hole in the ship, so that they could jump…

Unconsciousness claimed Qui-Gon once more, and he fell, through his mind and through the Force, into deep darkness.

He tried, afterwards. Tried to swim back towards that presence that was holding him, that seemed to be an anchor for him, steadfast, quiet, and soothing. For a long, long time, it was a loosing battle, the heavy sea pulling him back under.

Until, finally, the Force seemed to clear like a misty mountainside, Qui-Gon finally able to follow that unwavering ray bringing him towards the sun again. He latched on that presence, steadily, patiently – until, at last, Qui-Gon was able to breach the sea, and to open his eyes, coming back in the moment.

The world was dark around them, but he could make out shapes – clean sheets, the blue gleam of a tiny screen where lines kept wavering, and a straight, slender silhouette, seated cross-legged beneath him.

Obi-Wan.

"Padawan…", Qui-Gon whispered, and he was shocked to realise his voice was nothing more than a weak croak.

His Padawan moved, hand resting gently on his shoulder, bestowing warmth and reassurance in the Force, but Qui-Gon could feel something else along their bond, quiet despair and overwhelming exhaustion. And pain.

"I'm here, Master", Obi-Wan answered, but it seemed automatic, like a mantra, words repeated so often they almost seemed to fade.

"Obi-Wan… Padawan… What happened – where…"

A shudder went through their bond and his Padawan bent towards him, hand curling around his shoulder.

"Master? Are you… are you awake? Can you hear me?"

There was a tremble in his boy's voice, and Qui-Gon tried to convey his awareness by reaching out for his hand, squeezing his Padawan's cold fingers, reaching out for him through their bond.

Obi-Wan drew a sharp intake of breath, and then his hand moved, bringing Qui-Gon's hand to his lips, cradling his arm against his chest.

Master... Thank the Force. Thank the Force.

"Obi-Wan…

- You must be thirsty, Master. Don't speak, please, let me…

- Obi-Wan. Padawan. Help me sit up."

His Padawan obeyed instantly, drawing an arm around his back, helping him recover – and Qui-Gon was soon facing him, studying his pale face, the bruise on his temple and the impressive staple-lined scar on his skull.

"Mother of Moons, Obi-Wan, what happened to you?"

Language, Master.

His Padawan had projected automatically, the same exhaustion than earlier flooding his words – it stifled Qui-Gon's chuckle, who simply extended his arm towards Obi-Wan.

"Padawan, come here."

He soon had his arms around the boy, cradling him against him like a child, hand buried in the soft strands of auburn hair, feeling Obi-Wan tremble against him, arms trapped between their chests.

He was not feeling at his best himself, he soon realized, but Qui-Gon could feel the Force around him, finally, and reached out to release his discomfort and the residual toxins still swirling in his blood back into its stream.

"You were unconscious, Master. You wouldn't wake."

Obi-Wan's voice was a mere whisper, but Qui-Gon could sense just how upset his Padawan was in the Force, still unable to still his shivers.

"I… I just remember being trapped, Padawan. I am afraid it was Rose Cimber, but I do not recall…

- I know. We caught her. But you wouldn't wake."

The boy was exhausted. Obi-Wan was much more articulate usually, and his presence in the Force so much brighter. Qui-Gon sent a wave of reassurance and I'm there through their bond, carding his hand through his Padawan's hair, who buried his face even deeper in his shoulder, breaths leaving his lips with quiet, heart-breaking sobs.

"Shh… Padawan. I'm here. I'm here."

He wrapped his arms even tighter around the boy, and quietly rested his chin on Obi-Wan's head, holding him through the storm finally breaking through his Padawan's usually so carefully woven shields.

"I'm… sorry", Obi-Wan hiccupped, "I… didn't…

- Shh. Padawan. Shh. None of that."

Obi-Wan's body was warm and almost boneless against his when his sobs finally spaced, and much too soon, Qui-Gon felt him reach for his face, wiping his tears away, pulling away from him, head bowed in quiet shame.

"Master, I'm sorry. I never meant to… lose control like that. Please, let me… let me just bring you water or – whatever you need, I…

- Obi-Wan. Padawan. Look at me, please."

A pale, crumpled face met his and Qui-Gon let a wave of affection and concern wash over him, wrapping itself around that incredibly stubborn boy of his.

"Water would be most welcome, indeed. And perhaps something to eat, but only if it doesn't require you to leave my side. Because, my Padawan, what I need is to know what happened to you, and what the situation is here, so as to leave that unfriendly rock of a planet as soon as possible."

That made Obi-Wan smile and wipe his cheeks once more with a more decided move, nodding earnestly.

"Yes. Of course, Master. Water."

There was a new swing to his Padawan's moves as he rose, quickly fetching a tray, bringing him food and water. Only then did Qui-Gon realise that he was seated on a mattress and that an infusion line was set on the back of his left hand – Obi-Wan was quick to free him of it, though, placing the almost empty-bag on the ground beneath them.

"Where are we, Padawan?

- In one of the rooms of the Palace's medical ward", Obi-Wan answered – and Qui-Gon looked around him, surprised to find the room so sparsely furnished and empty.

"They relocated the Palace's population to safely guarded rooms. The medical ward is almost empty. Just droids and some supplies. I… told the medics I would take care of you."

There was quiet resolve in Obi-Wan's voice that made Qui-Gon look up, lowering his spoon – Force, it felt so good to eat, knowing his Padawan was nearby, safe and almost sound.

"Padawan, you make it sound like there is a war going on.

- Because there is, Master", Obi-Wan answered, tiredly. "The Rebels have attacked the palace, twice, and they succeeded in raiding supplies and weakening some of the outposts."

Qui-Gon frowned at this.

"Just… how long was I out, Obi-Wan?", he asked, softly, and his Padawan raised exhausted grey eyes up at him.

"Three days since we found you, Master."

Oh. What the blazes did that Cimber woman put into my bloodstream?

"Not just her, Master."

Obi-Wan's face was grave, and since Qui-Gon had finished his meal, the boy gently reached for his right wrist, inspecting the pristine bandages, placing his palm against the injury and assessing it through the Force. His Padawan seemed satisfied, and Qui-Gon realised, then, that he had probably owed him his cleanliness and comfort for days now.

"I didn't understand it, at first, Master. I was so terribly slow", Obi-Wan told him, features sharpening in the moonlit room.

"I thought you were weakened by Rose Cimber's drugs. I made the medics here take a sample of your blood and test it for the most common poisons. They told me you just had to rest, that the toxins would be purged from your body on their own. But you were not waking."

His Padawan straightened, leaning against the wall, and then, he told him all – about the crash, his meeting with the Rebel leaders, the situation in the Palace and Princess Fanry's uncompromising position, his visit to Czerka Corporation with Rael Averross, the plan he designed along with Quinlan Vos to locate him and their fight against Rose Cimber.

"She made no mystery about Czerka hiring her – but Chairman Cutlace keeps denying it. And… Master, that man lets out more falsehoods than breaths but – I think this, at least, is true. Because – why would they let her be so obvious about them? Holding a Jedi Master prisoner, especially one who was specifically sent on Pijal to negotiate… that's the best way to cast Czerka Corporation in a nefarious light, and that's the last thing they want."

The more animated his Padawan got, the more refined his words became – it was frankly endearing, and Qui-Gon was unable to repress a smile.

"And… you were unconscious for more than a day and still not getting better – so I thought… I thought, who had most to gain from incapacitating us? Who was mostly against a compromise, but still determined to be seen as a victim? And I realized that, though Czerka Corporation thoroughly deserve to be investigated properly, it could not be them. This left the Rebels, but Master – I have seen them, I have seen what their resources are, and I do not think they have cruisers such as the one Rose Cimber used against us. Nor drugs, they do not even have Bacta patches…"

Sadness and compassion softened Obi-Wan's gaze, and his Padawan went on:

"So I thought… what if it had all been a sham, from the very beginning? Painting Czerka as villains, such gaining the Jedi's sympathy, forcing us to advocate a removal of the factories… And incapacitating you – the main threat – in order to crush the rebellion without negotiations, without compromise…"

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, bringing up a hand, and stroking his beard pensively – he was frankly quite in awe with the boy's reasoning.

"You mean…

- Yes, Master", Obi-Wan whispered. "I think the one pulling the strings here, from the very beginning, is in the Palace. And I have already begun to gather some evidence and set a trap for them.

- Force, Padawan…", Qui-Gon let out, reaching out for Obi-Wan's knee and squeezing it. "No wonder you look like a ghost, little one."

Obi-Wan smiled faintly at him, and Qui-Gon squeezed his knee once more, becoming earnest once more.

"Do you think Rael Averross is involved? What kind of evidence, and what kind of trap, Obi-Wan?"

His Padawan's shoulder slumped, slowly.

"I… I don't know. I hope not", Obi-Wan whispered. "I don't… I don't think so, but I'm not sure I'm the best judge when it comes to deceit, Master. He has been very lonely, and I think he is very sad – I think it hurts him to see Princess Fanry so… hard and bitter."

Well. Rael Averross had certainly managed to find a way to his Padawan's heart – not that this was particularly difficult to achieve, Obi-Wan tending to be loving and compassionate towards almost everyone and everything, old teacups included.

"But I… am sure someone holding power here wanted you unconscious and drugged. You see, Master, when you were not waking and I realised something was wrong, I… I changed your infusion bag, the one the medical droids were giving you. I… sneaked into their supply room and gathered another one. And I kept the one they put you on, took some samples, and sent them to the Halls in the Temple. Master Che was quite adamant in her report."

Obi-Wan handed him a small data-pad, and Qui-Gon scanned quickly through the medical file, that was indeed reporting no small amount of Mazolamid.

"I flushed it out, Master. I kept changing the bags, as soon as they replaced it for you. And I had each one of it tested – none of it was clear, Master."

Resolve and quiet passion, in his Padawan's grey eyes – but he had kept his head clear, he had not given into panic, and what was more, he had kept his discoveries to himself.

"Well done, Obi-Wan", he praised, warmly, and the boy, Force bless him, bowed his head and blushed.

"I locked your room through the Force, whenever I was getting out. No one came near you when I was not there, but the only ones entering here were the medics, the droids and Master Averross. I think, however, that whoever is behind all this will try to set Rose Cimber free. And I think it will be tonight. Because the Rebels are beginning to circle the city, because they cannot have you unconscious forever, and because it is the perfect timing to expose Czerka even more without enabling you to question Rose Cimber.

- Did you question her, Obi-Wan?", Qui-Gon asked, feeling dread invade him at the thought of his apprentice alone in the cell of such a toxic woman.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"No, Master. I… I didn't dare. I didn't want to raise any suspicions. And… I was worried for you."

Obi-Wan raised a fist, rubbing his cheek unconsciously, much like he used to, as a boy, whenever he was fighting sleep, and Qui-Gon realised, for the first time, that he kept his left arm at a somewhat awkward angle.

"Padawan, come here. Let me have a look at that arm."

His voice was stern, and Obi-Wan had never disobeyed one of his orders. He soon had the boy facing him, and felt for his elbow and wrist, sensing hot pulses of pain radiating from the injured limb.

"Obi-Wan, this is broken. Perhaps even dislocated – did you let someone have a look at it?"

His Padawan shook his head, looking every bit the child he still was, sometimes, despite his level-headedness.

"Did you even try to heal yourself?"

His Padawan did not respond, biting his lip, so Qui-Gon quietly probed their bond, waiting for the boy to open up.

Too difficult. Too tired. I didn't… manage, Master.

"Because you spent all your strength watching over me", Qui-Gon said, very quietly. "My Padawan… Your well-being matters. As much as mine. More, even, because you are my responsibility. Not the other way round."

That made his Padawan flare up, grey eyes bright with suppressed distress.

"Master, you were unconscious! What was I supposed to do – I couldn't leave you like this! There was no one here – no one else, and you were just so… You sounded so sad, Master…

- Shh, little one, do not fret. Do not get upset. I'm here now, and anything but sad. Let's heal that arm, shall we? And then I think meditation is in order, for both of us…"

It was Krayt spit, of course. His Padawan was in no state to do anything but sleep. Preferably for a week, if his upset state was any indication. As it was, however, Qui-Gon made sure to understand his Padawan's plan clearly, and memorize where exactly he was supposed to look for the footage in Rose Cimber's cell, a hidden cam there recording everything going on in the area.

And then he wrapped his arm around his Padawan's bony shoulders, and leant the boy against his chest, carefully cradling the broken limb between his hands. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, obediently, breath slowing down and worried lines smoothing out as he found the Force once more.

And Qui-Gon joined him there, pushing calm waves of reassurance and quiet towards Obi-Wan, until their bond opened, allowing him to brush against the ruffled, distressed, exhausted but so loving presence of his Padawan.

Sleep, dear one. Rest.

His suggestion was powerful, and Obi-Wan completely spent. Qui-Gon barely felt a ripple of mild surprise through their bond, then his boy was slumping in his arms, auburn head meeting the crook of his neck.

He allowed himself to cradle the boy against him, and to press a quiet kiss on his spiky hair – and then he let the Force flow through him, powerful and beaming with fierce protectiveness for the treasure he was holding. He gently pushed the bones back into place, sending healing waves towards Obi-Wan's elbow, then he focused his energy on the boy's wrist, feeling the swelling reduce as the pain finally receded.

He checked his Padawan's body, through the Force, and shook his head, hand moving towards Obi-Wan's chest, smoothing out the cracked lines he felt along his lower ribs, and then he rested a hand against the boy's head, fingers carding through his hair, holding him as he slept.

Rael Averross found them like this, sliding quietly into the room, and Qui-Gon watched his brother-in-lineage approach, hand silently moving to the lightsaber he had clipped once more on his belt.

Rael threw him a dazzling smile and simply sat down, with one of those graceful moves that used to put Qui-Gon to shame – but not anymore.

"Won't you say hello, Qui?

- Won't you?", Qui-Gon threw back, shifting his arms around Obi-Wan so that his Padawan's face was resting more comfortably against his shoulder.

And he watched Rael's eyes soften, his brother-in-lineage moving to a nearby cupboard, withdrawing a blanket he tossed on Qui-Gon's legs.

"There. Keep the little tomcat warm."

Qui-Gon unfolded the blanket, wordlessly, and gently slid Obi-Wan's body until his Padawan was lying down, head resting on his thigh, wrapping the blanket around him.

"He's wiped out."

Rael's concern sounded genuine, and there was no darkness to be found in his signature – although something within him seemed changed. Almost broken –selfishness turned to loneliness.

"Is he always like that, Qui?

- Like what, Rael?", Qui-Gon sighed, feeling a slight shudder go through Obi-Wan and rubbing his back soothingly.

"Focused and sharp, all stern and smart and stubborn as kriff… You should have seen him fight that Jaw Plant of a woman – true Soresu, Qui… I bet old Dooku is besotted with him.

- I told you before, Rael. There is no way Dooku is coming near Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon's voice had turned sharp, and Rael hunched slightly on himself.

"So you two still…

- Yes. And I don't mean to change it, so don't try to meddle.

- I won't. Besides… He never talks to me, either. Ever since I came here, it's as if – as if I vanished from the Temple's universe. Not that I mind – I certainly do not miss the smell in the training rooms, nor the cantina's food."

Now that was a lie just as big as Corellia, but Qui-Gon was not heartless enough to point it out, and as such, he just carded his hand through Obi-Wan's hair, gently tucking his Padawan-braid behind his ear.

"He looks so kriffing small. They all do, when they are asleep, don't they? And yet as soon as they are awake, they do everything to prove us they are no children anymore…"

Qui-Gon just hummed.

"He looks a lot like Fanry. It puzzled us all here, when he arrived. But he's nothing like her. He's good, selfless… and he loves you more than anything.

- I know", Qui-Gon whispered. "So do I.

- What about attachment, Qui? Remember the way Dooku always lectured us about it…?

- Yes. And I think everything about it, everything, Rael, is absolute Bantha fodder. You cannot raise a Padawan for years, go through hell and back with them multiple times, and not feel something more than a training bond, unless something is missing inside. What is wrong, though, is to try and bind their wings. Preventing them from unfolding themselves.

- What if – what if that flower turns out to be venomous?"

Rael's voice was quiet, sad – and Qui-Gon looked up, frowning slightly.

"Rael, if there is something you want to share, please go ahead. I'm afraid metaphors are not really my forte."

His brother-in-lineage just shook his head, deflective, playful smile back in place.

"Just musings in the dark, Qui-Gon. I'll leave you to your rest. I think we might have quite a situation tomorrow, if the Rebels do not disappoint. Perhaps, though, it's for the best…"

Something beeped, on Obi-Wan's wrist, and Qui-Gon stilled, suddenly on high alert – because this meant someone was nearing Rose Cimber's cell. Someone that could not, obviously, be Rael Averross.

Such was the alarm and awareness invading him that some of it probably permeated their bond, because Obi-Wan stirred, sitting up, rubbing bleary eyes, clearly trying to focus.

"Kriff, it woke him up…", Rael hissed, but Qui-Gon placed a finger on his lips, trying to activate the sound on Obi's commlink.

His Padawan lifted a hand, pushed down a few buttons, and leant back against Qui-Gon's chest, fighting back sleepiness.

"Master, we need to move", he sighed, and Qui-Gon hesitated, for a while, playing with the thought of leaving his Padawan there, where he could rest… but such was not the Jedi way and Obi-Wan deserved better.

So he simply placed a hand on his Padawan's brow, using the Force to clear his mind of sleep, and pulled Obi-Wan to his feet, facing an open-mouthed Rael Averross.

"What…

- Quick, Rael. With us. She's trying to escape."

And within seconds, they were racing towards Rose Cimber's cell.

One moment Obi-Wan's head was heavy like a rock sinking under water, the other he was running behind his Master, trying to reconcile the fact that he was no longer hurting, that Qui-Gon was upright and strong as ever, long hair flowing beneath him as he rushed towards the Palace's cells.

He skidded to a halt a hand's breath from Qui-Gon, sensing his Master's palm on his neck, feeling the last remnants of sleep vanish from his body.

Master Averross stilled beneath them, and Obi-Wan heard his silent intake of breath, feeling pain shatter all around the elder Jedi Master.

"You have done your part. Now let me do mine", a voice belonging to a slender silhouette was saying, hand hovering across the cell's electronic lock.

"Most obliged, Princess", Rose Cimber's voice answered, the assassin sliding out of her cell, stretching her arms with a languid, somewhat graceful move.

"Fanry…"

Master Averross' anguished whisper echoed through the rooms, taking them all by surprise, and then everything went havoc. Rose Cimber moved like a cat, trapping Princess Fanry in a headlock, arm wrapped around her throat, blaster pressed against her temple.

"Move, Master Jedi, and the small amount of your little puppet's brains will litter the ground", Rose snarled, lips turning up in a cruel smile.

"Let me go!", Fanry hissed, squirming against her, but she was quick to still when Rose armed the trigger. "We had an agreement."

She sounded so childish. So… utterly spoiled.

"Fanry, what have you done…?", Master Averross whispered, hands raised in the air, stock still in the prison's darkness. "Please don't hurt her. Please take me instead. She's just… she's just a child.

- I am NOT!", Princess Fanry screamed. "I'm not a child, it's YOU who always make me appear like I am! You just cannot stand to stop being the one in charge, you don't care for Pijal, you just care for your profits and power and credits!

- Oh. My. Goodness, how precious", Rose Cimber drawled. "What a wonderful little goose you have raised, Jedi, you should be proud…

- Let her go. Please. I will give you whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just… don't hurt her."

We need to stop him.

Qui-Gon's voice was worried but firm in Obi-Wan's head.

I will block the trigger. You stay ready to catch the Princess.

"I don't want your help, just let me go, you bitch!", Fanry shrieked, and Rose gave an exasperated eyeroll, finger moving towards the trigger.

"NO!"

It all went so fast. Qui-Gon blocked the trigger, pulling the Princess towards Obi-Wan, who was quick to catch and immobilize her as she started to writhe. There was the sound of a lightsaber, and suddenly Rose Cimber was on the ground. Body crumpled like a puppet with broken strings, eyes dull, expression still faintly amused.

And Master Averross was just standing there, blade still drawn, looking almost as dead as she was.

"I hate you! You're a monster! I hate you, I hate you!"

The Princess was thrashing in Obi-Wan's arms, screeching and trembling like she was possessed, tears streaming down her face.

"Rael."

Qui-Gon's voice was quiet. Unusually soft.

"Rael. Put down the blade. Put it down.

- I HATE YOU!"

A sweep of Qui-Gon's hand, and Fanry went boneless, slumping into Obi-Wan's arms, who was suddenly feeling very cold, dread invading every fibre of his being.

"Rael. Put the blade down."

Master Averross' grip on his lightsaber slid, slightly, and the Jedi shook his head, oblivious of the tears running quietly down his cheeks.

"I don't think so, Qui.

- Don't do it, Master Averross. Don't do this, please."

Obi-Wan's voice was broken. Hoarse. He let go of Princess Fanry, letting her slide on the ground, sick with disgust and fear.

"We are all part of the Force. We are all one. Don't do this. Please. You still have to… you still have to teach me how to sass and how to… how to become better at Force-healing. And you need… you need to meet Quin and Nara and Kit and tell them how we found Master Qui-Gon, and…

- Oh, kid…"

Master Averross' voice shattered, hand faltering slightly, and Qui-Gon used that slip to Force-project the lightsaber away from his hand. It fell to the ground, extinguishing himself, and Rael fell to his knees, sobbing, body lilting towards the ground. Meeting Qui-Gon's chest.

I just want to be gone.

Master Qui-Gon just wrapped his arms around his brother-in-lineage, holding him against him, making small, soothing sounds, while Obi-Wan just stood, wide-eyed and pale, as the Force around them wept.

They moved Rose Cimber's body to one of the medical rooms and entrusted Princess Fanry to a very shaken Captain Deren, placing her under her own Blackguards' custody.

Later in the night, as Princess Fanry regained consciousness, it was not long before Qui-Gon drew a full confession from her, especially when placed before the evidence gathered in the Palace's prison.

Fanry had indeed been the one hiring Rose Cimber, trusting her to be as opposed to Czerka as she was, as soon as it became clear that the Republic's views on the Pijali situation was not necessarily in her favour. The Princess fully acknowledged her refuse to make an Assembly of Pijal but was still denying having left the slaves on the Leverage to their deaths. Qui-Gon however sensed deceit there, and just left her, shaking his head in disgust.

Obi-Wan himself had wasted no time in contacting Cady and Jamal, who had informed him that fifteen of the slaves had indeed survived the Princess' attack and were safely guarded in the Rebel's strong place.

"We're ready for Czerka, kid", Cady's fiery voice rang through the commlink.

Negotiations were due to take place into the Palace rooms, with Qui-Gon ensuring Lady Lamia's security as new head of the Pijali government, and Obi-Wan safe-guarding the Rebels'. Chairman Cutlace and Czerka however were absent, their presence only considered fuel to the fire.

And so, three Jedi, two women and their respective guards were facing each other in one of the Palace rooms – Cady in tunic and leggings, dark tresses carefully woven above chocolate skin, and Lady Lamia in a black mourning dress, quiet and sad, but composed.

Obi-Wan was seated next to Rael Averross, who had yet to say a word, eyes dull and face pale, but Force-signature a tad steadier. Qui-Gon still retained Rael's lightsaber – he had tried to stabilise his brother-in-lineage in the Force, though, putting him in a calming trance that had helped to soothe him.

Obi-Wan felt Rael flinch next to him, once Qui-Gon exposed Fanry's behaviour, and took the elder Jedi Master's hand in his, gently, as Lady Lamia quietly read the document where Fanry had signed her abdication.

The fingers meeting his were calloused and cold. But after a while, timidly, they squeezed back.

"It has become obvious that we cannot continue as it is", Lady Lamia said, very calmly. "Pijal calls for much needed reforms, and I – we – do not want a society where inequalities only grow. However, what also seems very clear is that violence and chaos are no effective tools.

- And what do you propose, my lady?", Cady asked, proudly. "That Czerka stays, on our lands, continuing to employ slaves because doing otherwise would threaten Pijal's stability?

- I think we should try to place Pijal under the protection of a larger, stronger structure. I think Pijal should join the Senate. But not as a monarchy. Those days are gone, lady Cady. I propose my first move as Queen of Pijal to be one of abdication, leading to the creation of a Pijali Assembly. That Assembly, in turn, would be led by a Governor, and send two Senators to Coruscant, to defend Pijal's interest and make sure slavery is abolished and punished on our grounds."

Silence fell, for a minute, and Obi-Wan watched Cady turn towards Jamal, whispering quietly.

"Who would those Senators be, my lady?

- They would have to be elected, lady Cady. However, as far as spontaneous candidatures go, I would suggest someone among your ranks. I, for my part, am most willing to act as a representative of the former Palace's side. The Sky knows I have long wanted to change some things here."

Cady nodded, quietly, dark eyes softening slightly.

"I know, my lady. And I think… Pijal can trust you to defend its interest best. My faction wants to make a formal complaint against Czerka Corporation in front of the Senate. We have fifteen testimonies of former slaves, and I think they would be better protected on Coruscant than on our planet. It would be an honour to lead them there, and to help you establish Pijal as a democratic Assembly in the Senate."

Czerka would not vanish within months, not even years from Pijali grounds. But with the planet as part of the Republic, their shadier activities would withdraw further, once more… until another scandal was unclosed.

"We're going to fly", Kira chirped, two days afterwards, as the Jedi were finally able to leave, heading back to Coruscant.

The little girl had resumed talking, shortly after the negotiations, and Obi-Wan suspected it was a mixture of seeing Princess Fanry gone, witnessing her mother speaking for the Palace, and knowing she would be leaving the planet.

Kira was however very reluctant to leave Obi-Wan's side, who had resigned himself to have a tiny shadow following each one of his steps, frequently hoisting Kira on his hip so as to be able to move faster.

"Yes, Kira, we are going to fly", he answered, smiling at the little girl who was playing with his braid, tickling her nose with its tail.

"Is Obi afraid?", the girl asked, with the odd perceptivity of small children, and Obi-Wan sighed slightly, looking at the huge Pijali cruiser.

"A bit", he said, softly. "I don't think I'll ever feel the same about flying, but fear is not a good councillor, Kira.

- Very well spoken, my Padawan", Qui-Gon chimed in, ruffling Obi-Wan's hair. "Let's go home, little one. All three of us."

Obi-Wan turned, casting one last look on the Palace, the huge trees, and Pijal tangerine's skies. The Force was strong here, and had made him quite uneasy many times, but for now the storms seemed withered, and so the Padawan bowed, quietly – to the trees, the Watchtowers, the skies and the Pijali people.

Indeed, he was eager to return home.

A/N: So, my dears... First of all, I want to assure you all that poor Rael Averross is currently getting the biggest hug ever in the world of writing. I am very curious to know if you guessed what was going on, I'm afraid I'm not the best in not disclosing things - I am even sure some among you probably think that *Rael* being the villain would have been an even better writing move, but... I couldn't. That Jedi just found his way into my heart, ever since I realised he was also Dooku's former Padawan, and what's more Rael does not turn in the real sources, which was why I didn't want him to in my fics.

Mazolamid is an anagram of Midazolam, a drug frequently used in hospitals to induce coma and as a tranquilizer.

Writing over-protective Qui-Gon has been *the* joy of the chapter, I hope it acted as a counter-balance for the angst - I am sorry if it unsettled you, but I really wanted to show just how hard isolation can be for a Jedi too-long away from other Force-sentients. Someone, however, needs to teach Obi to sass indeed, and I want you to know that the epilogue should definitely be brighter (not unicorn bright, but positive). If there are any loose ends left for you, please let me know. And if you want to cuddle Obi as badly as I do, well... join the club :). Take care and till very soon, for the final installment. Much love, Meysun.