A Jedi's Pain Chapter 22: Vision, a star wars fanfic

Author's Note: This chapter was actually one of the first ones I wrote for this series, despite being one of the last letters of the alphabet! It is an AU to The Phantom Menace, which has been done many, many times, I know, but I wanted to put my own spin on it. I hope you enjoy it. My thanks as ever to my wonderful reviewers, you are all amazing and your kind words mean so, so much. Computer problems mean that it may be a little while before I publish W, but X, Y and Z are almost finished so should follow in fairly quick succession. As ever, if you can leave feedback, it will mean the world to me. Thank you!

Vision

It was late afternoon on Coruscant, as two hooded figures walked slowly and serenely through the halls of the Jedi Temple; the taller Master walking a step or two ahead of his younger Padawan, as they nodded in greeting to the few others they met on their way. They had been summoned to the Council Chamber and given no other reason than that their presence was required immediately.

"Master..." the Padawan had murmured, upon receiving the summons, "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Calm yourself, my young Padawan," the Master had replied, gently, "We will go where the Force and the Council commands."

They walked in comfortable, companionable silence. However, the Padawan could not shake the feeling that had settled like a cloud in his mind; something felt very, very wrong, but he could not identify the source of the sensation. He mulled on it quietly as they walked, hoping to meditate on it later, until they reached the Council Chamber. The Master waved his hand and the door opened, allowing them entrance. The Padawan hung back respectfully, staying just behind and to the left of his Master, as they both lowered their hoods and bowed to the assembled Council Members.

"Master Jinn... Padawan Kenobi," Master Mace Windu greeted them, with a nod, "thank you for coming."

"Your summons was rather urgent, Master Windu," Qui-Gon replied, evenly, "I am curious to know the reason for it."

Obi-Wan suppressed a shiver; he was wearing his cloak, but the Council Chamber seemed suddenly cold, and he slowly folded his arms, trying unsuccessfully to warm himself.

"It is with regard to the taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems," Master Ki-Adi-Mundi steeped his long fingers together as he spoke, "the situation grows even more tense and disruptive, and the Senate is having no luck in resolving the situation."

"News has reached us," Master Yaddle interjected, in her soft, smooth voice; "the Trade Federation has blockaded the planet of Naboo."

Naboo...

Still suppressing his shivers, Obi-Wan blinked as the name of the planet echoed in his mind, and he felt a whisper of warning from the Force. He gave an imperceptible shake of his head, trying to dismiss it, aware of a dull ache beginning to form in his temples. He checked his shields and training bond; good, his Master remained unaware of his sudden discomfort, concentrating as he was on the Council's briefing.

"All shipping to Naboo has ceased entirely as a result," Master Adi Gallia shook her head, sadly, "the people are starving and the Senate does nothing but debate the matter endlessly. The Supreme Chancellor has privately requested that the Jedi Council send a representative to Naboo to attempt negotiations with the Trade Federation directly."

No...!

Obi-Wan had to suppress a gasp; the voice in his head had sounded like his own, but it was warped, twisted, drawn out into something akin to a howl, raw with a type of grief and pain he had never before experienced. He winced, resisting the urge to raise a hand to his temple lest he give away his sudden discomfort, and his shivering increased, although he could feel sweat breaking out on his brow; he lowered his head slightly and gritted his teeth as the dull ache in his temples blossomed into a thumping pain.

"We do not like to get involved with the political machinations of the Senate," Windu was speaking now, although Obi-Wan could barely hear him over the pounding in his head; "but we cannot ignore the suffering of the Nubians. The blockade is technically legal, but... with the Chancellor mired in politics and controversy, your mission is to see if the situation can be brought to a swifter, peaceful conclusion."

Obi-Wan could stand it no more; the pain in his head was reaching a crescendo, black sparkles danced in front of his eyes, and he could not prevent the tremors shuddering through him. Unable to contain it any longer, he felt his mental shields beginning to crumble.

"Master..." he whispered, screwing his eyes shut, reaching out blindly.

Suddenly alerted to his Padawan's distress, Qui-Gon whipped around in shock; "Obi-Wan?"

The Master lunged just in time to catch him as Obi-Wan's legs gave way and he stumbled, keeling over. Qui-Gon grabbed him as he fell, lowering him to the floor and cradling him, gathering his Padawan in his arms as the young Jedi's head rolled limply against his elbow.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon was shocked by the sudden collapse, seeing the pallor of his Padawan's face, as he pressed a hand to the young Jedi's forehead, "by the Force, he's burning up..."

Obi-Wan's eyes danced and flickered beneath closed lids, his breaths coming in rapid gasps, as Qui-Gon gently patted his cheek, calling his name, trying to rouse him. The Master was suddenly aware of a small, clawed hand on his arm and he paused, glancing across, meeting the compassionate gaze of Master Yoda.

"A vision, the Padawan is having," his Grandmaster said, reassuringly, "a rare gift from the Force, this is."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and focussed momentarily on the bond with his Padawan.

"He is in... great pain..." he said, at last, "but I cannot see the cause of it..."

"Hmm," Yoda rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "a gift only for the Padawan, this vision is... return with him to your quarters, you must, Qui-Gon. Care for the Padawan. If recovered he is, leave for your mission in the morning, you will."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon gathered his Padawan into his arms and lifted him up.

He nodded, once, to the assembled Council and then turned, heading back to their quarters as fast as he could. In his arms, Obi-Wan twitched and shivered, writhing weakly. Whatever the Force was showing to the young Padawan, it was not pleasant...

The walkways beneath the palace on Naboo stretched out in every direction, the reactor core below them, a dizzying drop away. Obi-Wan swung his bright blue lightsabre rapidly, blocking every blow from the deadly red blade that hissed and crackled every time their blades impacted. Beyond the dark, cloaked figure, he could see his Master, Qui-Gon, his green lightsabre a tool of beauty and precision against the monster they fought. Obi-Wan could sense the darkness and rage emanating from the creature before him, and the Force screamed warnings as he blocked each blow, each strike of his own parried in return as they fought along the length of the gantry. He had heard of the Dark Side, and of the Sith, of course, but he had always thought that they were just stories, to frighten younglings into behaving themselves.

Apparently not.

The Sith suddenly changed tactics, blocking a strike from Qui-Gon as he lashed out backwards with one foot. Obi-Wan grunted in pain at the impact as the boot hit him square in the face, and, before he could do anything about it, he was falling through the air, arms flailing helplessly. With a jarring thump that ripped another yelp of pain from his lips, his shoulder slammed into the walkway below. His lightsabre was knocked from his grip as he tumbled over the edge, barely aware enough to grab onto the lip of the walkway, dangling precariously over the reactor pit.

High above him, he could just about make out the Sith figure and Qui-Gon still sparring, until Qui-Gon managed to knock the foul creature down, tumbling to a lower walkway, just as Obi-Wan had done. The Jedi Master leapt down after his foe, and their sparring resumed. Desperate to help his Master, Obi-Wan gathered his strength and the Force around him, launching himself back up onto the gantry, snatching up his lightsabre as he did so, using the Force to leap high up onto the walkway where Qui-Gon and the Sith still lunged and parried, trading blows, Qui-Gon pushing the Sith back, back down the walkway, towards the ray shields surrounding the power core.

Obi-Wan was too far behind them, he realised; sprinting to catch up, he was forced to halt as the cycling shields snapped into place, locking him far behind his Master and the Sith, momentarily relieved to see the two of them were also separated. Qui-Gon deactivated his lightsabre, dropping to his knees as he centred himself, meditating on the Force. The Sith snarled and prowled like a predator sizing up its prey, the twin-bladed red lightsabre deactivated but still gripped at the ready.

Eventually, the shields dropped, and Qui-Gon immediately launched forwards, his battle with the Sith resuming in earnest. Obi-Wan bounced on his heels as the shields each gradually snapped open; as soon as his path was clear, he launched himself back towards the battle, but he was seconds too slow. The final ray shield snapped into place in front of him, making him skid to a halt, forced to watch as his Master fought the Sith by himself, trading rapid blows as their lightsabres hummed and clashed, circling the reactor pit. Obi-Wan stared in dismay as his Master fought alone; Qui-Gon was an accomplished duellist and strong with the Force, but the Sith struck with a murderous rage Obi-Wan had never before encountered in a wielder of the Force. Qui-Gon was being pushed backwards, blocking and parrying rapidly, until the Sith saw his chance.

Lashing out, he jabbed the handle of his lightsabre into Qui-Gon's face, momentarily stunning him, and then, with a brutal snarl, he stabbed one end of the plasma blade straight into Qui-Gon's stomach, running him through, impaling him, before yanking back the blade, a vicious grin on his fanged features. The Jedi Master let out a shocked, pained gasp, pitching to his knees, clutching the fatal wound, collapsing in on himself, even as Obi-Wan felt the burning agony through their Master-Padawan training bond. Grief and pain tore through him as he opened his mouth and cried out in horror.

"No!"

"No!" Obi-Wan cried out, snapping awake with a gasp, reaching forward, blindly, "Master!"

"Obi-Wan!"

The deep, soft voice was somewhere above him, as a strong hand was pressed to his chest; the other cupped behind his head, and he felt himself being lowered onto something soft. A pillow, he realised, belatedly; he was in bed, and when he finally focussed on Qui-Gon's face above him, his relief at seeing his Master was palpable. Confused, bewildered by what he had just seen, he raised a shaking hand to his head, surprised to find that he felt weak and washed out.

"Master...?"

"You had a vision, my young Padawan," Qui-Gon explained, gently, "an extremely powerful one, from the looks of things, and that is a very rare gift from the Force indeed."

"Master... I saw... I saw... it was awful; he... he..."

"Hush, young one," Qui-Gon soothed his obviously distressed Padawan, placing one hand on his brow and then stroking back his short, spiky hair, "do not try to speak of it yet... The vision was given to you for a reason. You must think on it and meditate upon it; we will discuss it later. You have had a low-grade fever for the last hour, and you need to rest. If you are recovered sufficiently, we will leave for Naboo in the morning."

Naboo...

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, faintly, his head still reeling.

He felt Qui-Gon's gentle hand on his, as a cool, damp cloth sponged his brow. With a sigh of relief at the soothing touch, Obi-Wan tried to release his fears into the Force as he tumbled into a shallow, restless sleep, still haunted by the strange vision.

By morning, Obi-Wan felt almost back to normal, if a little tired. His fatigue and the vision were soon forgotten when the Trade Federation tried to kill them with a combination of dioxis gas and battle droids almost immediately upon their arrival, and events rapidly spiralled out of control. It was not until Tatooine, when he saw his Master fighting the mysterious figure cloaked in black, and wielding a red-bladed lightsabre, that he felt his heart leap into his throat in recognition and the recollection of his vision came crashing back to him. As soon as Qui-Gon was safely aboard their ship, he scrambled to his Master's side, wide-eyed.

"What was it?" he exclaimed, heart hammering in his chest, unable to believe what he had just witnessed.

Sith... whispered a voice in the back of his mind.

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon gasped, still catching his breath as he sat on the deck-plates, "but it was well trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is it was after the Queen."

"What are we gonna do about it?" the young, blonde-haired boy beside Obi-Wan asked, earnestly.

Qui-Gon released a sigh, and then nodded, decisively; "We shall be patient. Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Hi!" the boy grinned and immediately stretched out his hand, affably; "You're a Jedi too? Pleased to meet you!"

Obi-Wan managed to raise a small smile as he shook the boy's hand, but inside his head, the Force was clamouring with warnings that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Despite his feelings, he saw Qui-Gon smile and huff with amusement at the boy's enthusiasm. He lowered his head with a pained grimace, raising his hand to his temple.

"Obi-Wan? What is it?"

"I am... not sure, Master. I... I feel… please, may I go and meditate for a while?"

"Of course, Padawan. I will instruct the captain to set course for Coruscant, it is not safe to return to Naboo..."

Naboo! Danger!

This time, there was no warning, and no chance to intervene; with a sudden, pained shudder and a soft groan, Obi-Wan's eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed to the deck with a heavy thud.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon gasped in dismay, rolling onto his knees beside his fallen Padawan.

R2-D2 let out a beep of dismay, and Anakin yelped in surprise; "Whoa! What's wrong with him?"

"I do not know," Qui-Gon admitted, checking for a pulse, finding it fast and irregular, "Obi-Wan? Padawan, can you hear me?"

"Is it the heat? Off-worlders are always passing out 'cause they say it's too hot..."

"I don't think so, Anakin..."

Qui-Gon gently gathered Obi-Wan into his arms, lifting him off the deck to cradle him gently in the crook of his elbow. One look at his Padawan's pale face confirmed his suspicions; Obi-Wan's eyes flickered rapidly beneath closed lids and his breathing was little more than short, sharp gasps. Qui-Gon half-turned at running footsteps, unsurprised to see the Queen's precocious handmaiden, Padmé, rushing towards them. She halted in shock at the sight of the Jedi Master holding his unconscious apprentice.

"What happened? Is he injured?" she demanded, quickly.

"No, young handmaiden," Qui-Gon shook his head, "I'm afraid that my Padawan was... taken ill, before we left Coruscant. I thought he was sufficiently recovered, but I fear he has suffered a slight relapse, perhaps brought on by the desert heat, as our young friend Anakin has suggested... He will be fine after a little rest. Perhaps you would be kind enough to bring a bowl of cold water and a wash cloth to me? He is running a slight fever..."

"Oh... yes, of course, Master Jedi. Anakin, come with me," she told the boy, extending her hand out to him.

The two youngsters left together, and Qui-Gon kept watch over Obi-Wan as he was wracked again by the overwhelming vision of pain and loss...

Thankfully, Obi-Wan had recovered some of his senses by the time they returned to Coruscant, although he was still far too pale for Qui-Gon's liking, with dark smudges under his eyes and a slight tremor in his hands. Whenever he spoke, he kept his voice soft, and he squinted slightly, as if he were suffering a terrible headache – which Qui-Gon suspected was more than likely the case, despite the Padawan's repeated insistences that he was "fine".

However, he was forced to put aside his concern for the younger man as they discovered that the Trade Federation had invaded the planet of Naboo with an army of battle droids. While the Queen dealt with the political wrangling of the Senate, Qui-Gon prepared himself to go before the Council to request that the boy, Anakin Skywalker, be trained. He sent Obi-Wan to their quarters to rest and his Padawan had accepted willingly; a little too willingly, to his Master's mind, making Qui-Gon suspect the young Jedi was even more disturbed by his visions than he was letting on. Qui-Gon was a great believer in the Unifying Force, in prophecies and portents, and now that his own Padawan was experiencing visions of the future – a dark and terrible future, filled with pain and torment – Qui-Gon found himself listening closely to the Force as it whispered to him while he walked to the Council Chamber.

He relayed everything that had happened, including his mysterious attacker; "... my only conclusion can be that it was a Sith lord."

The Council took the news gravely, promising to investigate further, even as they all acknowledged the difficulty in seeing the Dark Side of the Force. Qui-Gon told them of the vergence in the Force, centred around the young boy, Anakin. He requested that the boy be tested, and, after some debate, the Council conceded.

As night fell, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, accompanied by Anakin, found themselves in the Council Chamber at the peak of the Temple tower, listening as the Council refused to train the boy. Qui-Gon protested their decision; insisting that the Council see that the boy was the Chosen One, foretold by prophecy to bring balance to the Force. As he spoke, he saw Obi-Wan wince, raising a hand to his head, and Qui-Gon trailed off, shooting a concerned look at his young apprentice.

"Hmm," Yoda nodded, "Clouded this boy's future is..."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak; rashly deciding that he would train the boy himself, but the strangled gasp of pain from Obi-Wan cut him off.

"This... this is a debate that must wait for another time," Qui-Gon found himself saying, even as he surreptitiously placed a supportive hand at his Padawan's elbow, "I... I request a break, and I hope that the Council will reconsider. The boy is so strong with the Force; it would be dangerous not to train him, especially if the Dark Side is rising once more."

"Wise, your words are, Qui-Gon," Yoda bowed his head, "go, you may. Consider what to do with the boy, we will."

Qui-Gon immediately took Obi-Wan and Anakin back to their quarters; Obi-Wan took a seat on the couch as Qui-Gon put Anakin in his own bed to sleep for a while, before returning to the living area. He slowly brewed some tea and then crossed to the couch, pressing a steaming cup into Obi-Wan's hands. They drank in silence for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Perhaps it is time you told me about what you are seeing in your visions, Obi-Wan," the Master said, slowly, at last, "prophecy and foresight are rare gifts of the Unifying Force, even more so in someone so young..."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, wanting nothing more than to tell his Master of the nightmare that haunted him, but as he did so, pain slashed through his head, lightning-fast and white-hot. The cup slipped from his fingers as he grabbed his temples with both hands, gasping aloud in agony.

"Easy, Obi-Wan, easy now..." his Master's voice was tender with concern, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his hunched back, "just take a breath, and release your pain into the Force..."

This was easier said than done, when it seemed that the Force was the very thing causing his pain. Nevertheless, he managed to gasp in a few shallow breaths, fighting back against the greying at the edge of his vision. The hand on his back shifted into an arm being wrapped around his shoulders, and he found himself being eased down, pulled into an embrace. He lay down on the couch, his head pillowed on his Master's lap, the spilt tea forgotten on the floor.

"Hush, Padawan," gentle fingertips tenderly massaged his temples, soothing away the pounding pain, as he whimpered softly, relaxing into the soothing touch, "I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan... it is clear that the Force does not want you to discuss your visions with me. Whatever warning your vision contains, it is for you; and you alone. Just rest now, young one. Sleep..."

He had little choice but to obey, as his Master pushed the suggestion right through his mental shields, sending him tumbling into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

However, their peace was short-lived; the Queen had decided against all advice to return to Naboo, and Qui-Gon found himself being roused from a light meditation to accompany the elected monarch and her entourage back to her troubled home world. Obi-Wan accompanied him, obviously feeling a little stronger, as they discussed his concerns about the boy, Anakin.

"The boy is dangerous," Obi-Wan insisted, as they walked through the hanger bay, "They all sense it. Why can't you?"

"His fate is uncertain. He is not dangerous. The Council will decide Anakin's future, and..." he hesitated, as the Force whispered in the back of his mind, considering his next words carefully, before saying; "...and that should be enough for both of us. Come, let us get on board."

They boarded the ship, bringing the boy with them at Qui-Gon's insistence. They returned to Naboo, beginning their search for the Gungans, even as Obi-Wan expressed his contrite apology to Qui-Gon in the forest.

"It is not my place to disagree with you about the boy."

"You are a wiser man than I," Qui-Gon had admitted, with a sigh, "and I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight..."

They were quickly swept up as events overtook them; Padmé suddenly revealing that she was Queen Amidala, recruiting the Gungan army to aid their cause, then fighting their way into the royal palace and the hanger bay. As Qui-Gon stowed Anakin safely in a fighter cockpit, Obi-Wan freed the pilots, sending them off on their vital mission to take out the droid control ship in orbit. But then, as they approached the hanger bay exit to complete the mission to capture the Viceroy, the doors slid open and the assembled group came to an abrupt halt.

A dark, black-cloaked figure stood in the doorway. Yellow eyes glared malevolently from a face tattooed red and black, as Qui-Gon stepped forward, sensing the writhing tendrils of darkness emanating from the imposing creature before them, recognising his foe from the desert of Tatooine.

"We'll handle this," he announced, firmly, completely unaware that behind him, Obi-Wan's heart felt like it had frozen in his chest.

As if sensing his fear, the hooded figure glanced at the Padawan with a cruel smirk, before turning his focus back to the Master Jedi before him. The soldiers parted, scurrying away, leaving the two Jedi facing the Sith. The Sith lowered his hood, revealing the sharp horns of a male Zabrak atop his tattooed skull, as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shed their cloaks in unison. The dark creature activated his red lightsabre, and then, before Obi-Wan's disbelieving eyes, another activation brought out a second shaft of plasma. The red dual blade... just like in his vision. There was no doubt in his mind now, as he ignited his lightsabre in unison with his Master. He launched himself high and struck first, landing behind his opponent as his blow was blocked, and the battle was on.

The three of them struggled and fought their way through the hallways of the palace, Obi-Wan finding himself brutally kicked to one side as the Sith threw open the door to the reactor chamber that powered the palace and much of the surrounding city of Theed. Obi-Wan did not have time to think, only to react, as they traded strikes, blows and parries in rapid succession, their lightsabres twirling and buzzing with power as they fought to defeat their dark opponent. They found themselves leaping across a chasm onto one of the gantries in pursuit of their foe.

Apparently not...

Wait.

Wait...

This was all suddenly, horribly familiar, and he leapt backwards with prescient acuity as the Sith suddenly changed tactics, blocking a strike from Qui-Gon as he lashed out backwards with one foot. Avoiding the kick that would have sent him sprawling, Obi-Wan felt a grim sense of satisfaction at the brief look of shock that flickered across the Sith's savage face.

Regaining his balance, Obi-Wan pressed the momentary advantage given him by the Sith's surprise and, with a kick of his own, he sent the creature stumbling, free-falling, tumbling to a lower walkway, just as Obi-Wan had almost done. Obi-Wan leapt from the gantry without looking, already knowing where he would land. His blue lightsabre cracked against the red one as his strike was parried, and he found himself being pushed back, towards the core.

Qui-Gon was barely a moment behind him, and the two of them resumed their furious battle, raining blows upon their opponent at lightning speed, even as they moved ever closer to the core, Obi-Wan at the front, the Sith in the middle, Qui-Gon following. As he had expected, Obi-Wan found himself stepping between the ray shields, and as they activated, instead of gazing at his Master's back from afar, he was facing those hate-filled, yellow eyes. The creature snarled and struck the shield with his lightsabre; it made a loud cracking sound as the energy beam hit it, but the shield did not waver. Behind the creature, Qui-Gon was similarly shielded. Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsabre, and, without consciously realising what he was doing, he knelt down.

The Sith snarled and prowled like a predator sizing up its prey, focussing solely on the Padawan in front of him, the twin-bladed red lightsabre deactivated but still gripped at the ready. Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders, closed his eyes, and meditated upon his surroundings and the next part of his vision. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at his Padawan, surprised and impressed by his level of focus, but similarly knelt, closing his own eyes. The sheer rage of their opponent was a dark, oppressive cloud between them, but in their meditation, Master and Padawan each felt the other's presence, and were comforted by it.

Eventually, the shield behind Obi-Wan dropped, and he was on his feet precisely as the one between him and the Sith dropped next. He blocked the blow he had sensed coming, even as the next shield fell, and Qui-Gon immediately launched forwards, the battle resuming in earnest.

Master and Padawan fought the Sith together, trading rapid blows as their lightsabres hummed and clashed, circling the reactor pit. The Sith struck with a murderous rage Obi-Wan had never before encountered in a wielder of the Force. Despite the foresight of his vision, Obi-Wan found that he was being pushed backwards, blocking and parrying rapidly. That was, until the Sith saw his chance; with a brutal kick, he sent Qui-Gon staggering, momentarily off balance, before he turned back towards Obi-Wan, lashing out with the handle of his lightsabre; aiming for his face. However, Obi-Wan knew the blow was coming. He yanked his head back, jumping backwards, even as the red blade jabbed towards him, aiming for an impaling, killing strike. Both Jedi and Sith were a second too slow.

The Sith grunted in surprise as he found himself stabbing at the air, the young Jedi having somehow anticipated his strike and leaping to avoid it. However; the Jedi had underestimated the reach of the blade, the plasma tip burying itself somewhere beneath the Padawan's ribs. The Sith grinned in morbid delight as Obi-Wan's eyes widened in pained shock. His lightsabre fell from his suddenly limp fingers, deactivating and clattering to the floor.

"No!"

The horrified, drawn out cry of grief, pain and shock did not come from his lips this time, but from another... numbly, his hands clutching at his stomach, Obi-Wan pitched to his knees, landing jarringly on the metal floor, and then folded over sideways, where he lay still.

Qui-Gon immediately shoved his grief and pain to one side, summoning the Force with all of his strength. He flung the Sith across the reactor pit, twirling around and switching his lightsabre to his left hand. With his right hand, he reached out and summoned Obi-Wan's weapon into his grip, activating it, the weapon as familiar to him as his own. The creature snarled and leapt, somersaulting back over the chasm of the pit, red sabre held high, arcing it down in a devastating strike; Qui-Gon swung both Jedi lightsabres in unison and blocked the sweeping blow, pushing the creature back before slicing down with both his blades, wielding green and blue in deadly unison. The red light flickered out, the handle of the Sith's sabre neatly cut in two, the crystals inside utterly destroyed.

The Sith's eyes widened in shock as he raised his head, the broken weapon falling from his grip, but Qui-Gon gave no quarter. Crossing the two blades in an arcing sweep, he stepped forward and parted the blades, throwing both arms out to the sides as he caught both his breath and his balance. The Sith's eyes fixed on his face for a long moment, before his head fell from his neck and his torso separated from his legs, and, with a slight Force-push, Qui-Gon sent his defeated enemy's three body pieces tumbling into the darkness of the reactor shaft.

Deactivating and carelessly dropping both of the lightsabres, Qui-Gon ran to Obi-Wan's side, immediately pressing his hands to the blossoming bloodstain on the middle of the Padawan's white tunic.

"No..." Qui-Gon breathed, as the blood welled up through his fingers, "No!"

He quickly lifted Obi-Wan into the crook of his right arm, supporting the young Jedi as his head lolled against his Master's shoulder. He folded Obi-Wan's left hand over the ugly wound in his stomach, applying pressure to it, even as the Padawan's right arm slipped limply from his grip, hitting the deck plate with a soft thud, his fingers lax, palm up, stained with blood. In that moment, he seemed so painfully young, cradled in his Master's arms, barely twenty-five but still boyish in looks. His face was almost as white as his tunic, his eyes half-lidded, hollow and sunken; bruised blue against his pallid features.

"No," Qui-Gon repeated again, "no... please, oh Force, no…."

He raised his left hand, gently lifting Obi-Wan's chin with his finger and thumb, ignoring the blood on his hands as he clutched the boy to his chest, his heart beating frantically as he turned Obi-Wan's face towards him, searching desperately for any sign of life. Their bond was alarmingly silent between them.

"No! Obi-Wan, look at me, please, look at me… open your eyes, Padawan, please..."

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat as Obi-Wan's eyes flickered and half-focussed, glazed with pain and peering up at him; "Mmm... Mas... Master?"

"I'm here, Obi-Wan, I have you," Qui-Gon nodded, quickly, blinking back a sudden rush of emotion, "you must hold on for me, dear one... we will get you to safety... you must keep pressure on your wound so that I can carry you, do you hear me, Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon reached over and lifted Obi-Wan's limp right arm as he spoke, folding it over the left hand and pressing down, firmly, even as Obi-Wan's back arched slightly and he let out a choked cry of pain.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Qui-Gon murmured, as he cradled his Padawan, "keep the pressure on the wound, Obi-Wan, I will get you out of here, I will find you some help..."

Scooping his injured apprentice into his arms, Qui-Gon summoned their discarded lightsabres to his belt, and fled back through the ray shields, along the gantry, using the Force to leap high through the air; hugging Obi-Wan close, he sprinted back through the palace. Here and there were traces of the battle that had raged above them; dead soldiers littered the corridor alongside wrecked battle droids, but it seemed the Nubians had been successful in taking back the palace and defeating the droid control ship; the planet was theirs once more.

Qui-Gon dashed through the corridors, heedless of the strange looks he got from the few guards who were clearing the corridors of residual enemy soldiers. He could feel Obi-Wan's life force fading as he ran; the young Jedi's pained moans diminishing to little more than gasps as he held his Padawan tight to his chest, racing down hallway after hallway, until he reached the throne room. A Force shove sent the doors flying open ahead of him; he strode in, paying no heed to the guards who spun around, expecting an attack. The Queen rose, her eyes widening in shock and dismay as Qui-Gon fell to his knees before the throne, panting for air, still nursing the wounded Padawan in his arms, both of them coated in the younger Jedi's precious blood.

"Fetch a doctor, immediately!" the Queen ordered, sharply, "Do it now!"

She descended the steps quickly, her entourage hanging back respectfully, the handmaidens murmuring behind their hands even as the guards drew their blasters, expecting some menacing foe to follow the Jedi, but of course, their enemy was slain, defeated by the Jedi Master and Padawan.

"What happened?" Padmé demanded, quickly gesturing one of her handmaidens forward.

Without a word of ceremony, the Queen tugged off the girl's headscarf, balling up the fabric, kneeling down and pressing it to Obi-Wan's stomach wound. The young Jedi moaned in agony, one hand feebly trying to push away the source of his pain, but Qui-Gon used his free hand to hold his apprentice's; the Master's other arm once again cradling him, holding him upright, as the Queen applied pressure with the rudimentary dressing.

"The cloaked figure was a Sith," Qui-Gon explained, finally catching enough breath to speak and answer her question; "like a Jedi, but trained and powerful in the Dark Side of the Force; a creature of pure evil. I have no doubt the Sith was behind the invasion of your planet, but to what end, I do not know."

"And what has become of this vile creature?"

"He is dead," Qui-Gon replied, flatly, not taking his eyes from Obi-Wan's ashen face and semi-conscious gaze, "my Padawan and I defeated him, but Obi-Wan was injured in the battle..."

"So I see..." the Queen glanced at the lingering soldiers in undisguised annoyance; "where is the doctor?"

"We have sent for one, your Majesty," Captain Panaka replied, quickly, "but the palace is in disarray; it may take time to find a doctor. They may have all been sent to the camps already..."

"Then we must take action ourselves!" the young Queen was as decisive as ever, "Master Jedi, can you carry him to the medical wing? I will show you the way."

"Of course – thank you, your Highness!"

Gathering Obi-Wan into his arms once again, trying to keep the blood-soaked scarf firmly in place over the wound, Qui-Gon lifted the wounded Jedi. The Queen ran ahead, Qui-Gon close at her heels, several of the guards and handmaidens scurrying to keep up with them.

They found the medical facility deserted; sure enough, the staff had been rounded up and imprisoned, and it would take the palace guards some time to find them and restore order. However, the Queen seemed to know exactly what to do; she gestured to the Jedi Master and he laid his Padawan down on one of the beds. Somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had lost the battle for consciousness, and lay flat on the medical bed, unnaturally still.

"You - fetch bandages and pain-reducers; you – I need a vial of bacta gel," the Queen ordered, and her handmaidens rushed to obey her rapid commands, "you – get universal donor blood and an intravenous line. You – blankets! And raise the room temperature, he is going into shock!"

Padmé snatched up a nearby pair of scissors, and swiftly cut away Obi-Wan's bloodied tunic, revealing his pale chest and the ugly wound to his stomach. Qui-Gon swallowed his nausea at the sight of it, and placed one hand on his Padawan's forehead. His skin felt cold and clammy to the touch, but Qui-Gon drew the Force around them, directing its healing energies into his young apprentice. Sparing a glance at the Master, not sure what he was doing but hoping it was helping, Padmé worked quickly.

Casting aside the bloodied head-scarf, she pressed a clean cloth to the wound, even as one of her aides poured a vial of bacta liberally over another dressing pad. The first cloth, already drenched in blood, was taken away and the bacta-soaked dressing was immediately pressed over the wound; a second dressing was placed on top of it, and one of the handmaidens held the padding firmly in place, as the Queen began to unroll a length of bandage.

"Master Jedi," she interrupted his concentration, sharply, "you must lift him, so that I can bind the wound."

The tall Jedi immediately acquiesced, slipping his hand beneath Obi-Wan's back, between his shoulder blades, and lifting him easily. One of the handmaidens moved to the head of the bed, taking both of the apprentice's limp arms, folding them over his chest and holding both of his hands in hers, allowing the Queen to work freely, wrapping the bandage tightly around his waist, swathing the wound. When she had finished and tied off the binding, Qui-Gon lowered Obi-Wan gently back onto the bed, just as one of the orange-clad girls thoughtfully slipped a pillow under the younger Jedi's head.

Qui-Gon resumed his Force-healing efforts, even as the handmaidens continued their flurry of activity around the bed, under the Queen's firm instruction. IV lines were fitted to both of Obi-Wan's arms; one line connected to donor blood, helping to replace the precious fluid he had lost, the other carried saline and nutrients. Pain-relievers were injected into his neck, along with an antibiotic for good measure. A thick blanket was fetched and draped over him, and an oxygen mask was fitted over his nose and mouth to aid his raspy breathing. He remained unconscious and unresponsive throughout their ministrations, until the Queen finally stepped back, satisfied with their efforts.

"There is little more that we can do for him now," she announced, "I suggest that he should be allowed to rest."

"Thank you, your Highness," Qui-Gon murmured, not removing his hand from where it rested on Obi-Wan's forehead; "I appreciate your kindness, and your efforts on Obi-Wan's behalf."

"Think nothing of it, Master Jedi," Padmé replied, quirking a slight, tired smile, "I owe you and your apprentice a great debt, it seems. You said you would not fight a war for me, but it seems you have nonetheless battled to save my people and my planet. What will you do now?"

"Hmm..." Qui-Gon considered the question carefully, before replying, "for the moment, I must remain with Obi-Wan. I can use the Force to help heal him a little, and stabilise him for the journey back to Coruscant where I can place him in care of the Master Healers at the Temple. We must report what has occurred here to the Jedi Council as a matter of urgency... but I cannot risk moving him just yet; he is still in critical condition. I must also find Anakin…"

"You may remain here for as long as you wish, Master Jedi," the Queen replied, firmly, "you are my honoured guests. I will take care of Anakin in the meantime. Eirtaé!"

"Yes, my lady?" the blonde-haired, blue-eyed handmaiden, whose head scarf had been sacrificed as the emergency dressing, stepped forward, lowering her gaze respectfully.

"You will remain here with the honoured Jedi," Padmé ordered, swiftly, her tone brooking no arguments from Qui-Gon, "fetch the Master food and refreshment; I have no doubt he is weary from battle and will need his strength to care for his apprentice. Fetch water and bathe the boy, and find him some clean clothes. You will see to their every need in my absence."

"Yes, my lady," Eirtaé bowed, leaving quickly to find food and drink.

"If you will excuse me, I must go and meet with the Gungan Boss," Padmé told Qui-Gon, her tone softening as she spoke, "I must thank him for his assistance... and offer my condolences for the losses they have no doubt suffered. I must free my people, restore the government, and assess the damage that has been done. But... you will come and see me, before you leave?"

"Of course, your Majesty," Qui-Gon momentarily stood, and bowed low to her respectfully, "thank you again for your assistance in treating my Padawan's wound."

"I pray he will make a full recovery."

With that, she and her entourage swept out of the room. Qui-Gon found a tall stool nearby, and, carrying it over to the bedside, he was able to perch upon it, watching over the unconscious Obi-Wan. He took Obi-Wan's right hand in his, placed his left hand on the Padawan's head once more, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the Force.

Heal him... bring him your light and warmth... close his wound... restore his body... please… heal him...

Darkness surrounded Obi-Wan; he could sense it, emanating from the hideous monster before him, all sharp horns, yellow eyes and pointed, snarling, fanged teeth. Master and Padawan fought the Sith together, trading rapid blows as their lightsabres hummed and clashed, circling the reactor pit. The Sith struck with a murderous rage... Obi-Wan was being pushed backwards, blocking and parrying rapidly. That was, until the Sith saw his chance; with a brutal kick, he sent Qui-Gon staggering, momentarily off balance, before he turned back towards Obi-Wan, lashing out with the handle of his lightsabre; however, Obi-Wan knew the blow was coming. He yanked his head back, jumping backwards, even as the red blade jabbed towards him, aiming for an impaling, killing strike. However, both Jedi and Sith were a few seconds too slow.

The Sith grunted in surprise as he found himself stabbing at the air, the young Jedi having somehow anticipated his strike and leaping to avoid it. However, Obi-Wan had underestimated the reach of the dual blade; the plasma tip burying itself somewhere beneath the Padawan's ribs. The Sith grinned in morbid delight as Obi-Wan's eyes widened in pained shock. His lightsabre fell from his suddenly limp fingers, deactivating and clattering to the floor.

"No!"

The horrified, drawn out cry of grief, pain and shock did not come from his lips this time, but from another...

Obi-Wan felt the pain in his stomach as the Sith swung his sabre back, quickly regaining his balance, a smirk of triumph on his face as Obi-Wan clutched at his wounded midriff. Fire emanated from the wound, consuming him from within, even as he felt his own warm blood spilling through his cold, numb fingers. Unable to make a sound, gasping, trembling with shock and pain, Obi-Wan pitched to his knees, landing jarringly on the metal floor, and then folding over sideways, before he lay still. Distantly, he heard the sounds of lightsabres clashing in renewed frenzy, but then... silence. Fearing the worst, he tried to call out to his Master, but no sound came.

His awareness was fading as he felt strong arms embracing him; a hand pressed firmly to the bleeding hole in his stomach.

"No... No!"

He was held, then; cradled in a tender, loving embrace, as a gentle hand lifted his head. He lacked the strength to do anything, he could not even open his eyes, but through the acrid smell of blood and sweat and burned flesh he caught the distinctive, comforting scent of his Master, and he knew he was safe.

"No! Obi-Wan, look at me...please…"

That voice... the love and grief it contained in equal measures, rough with emotion and pleading... he could not disobey...

"Master...?"

"...Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, can you hear me?"

The voice seemed... louder, now. Closer... and very real. The dream-memory faded away, and all he could see was blackness. He could hear the soft beeping of machinery around him; there was something covering his face, and the stabbing, burning pain in his stomach had dulled to a throbbing ache. There was a hand holding his, and another stroking through his hair.

"Obi-Wan... open your eyes, Padawan. Please… open your eyes. You need to wake up now..."

Slowly, painfully, he cracked his eyes open, wincing at the brightness of the overhead light, screwing them shut immediately, groaning in dismay at the pain.

"Eirtaé... the light, if you wouldn't mind...?"

The brightness immediately dimmed, and he blinked, his vision blurring and shifting as he tried to focus.

"Master?" he tried to speak, but the word came out as little more than a hoarse croak.

He was vaguely aware of movement to his left, and then a small, soft hand brushed against his cheek.

"Here, Jedi Kenobi," a female voice murmured to him, "ice water... sip this, it will help..."

His head was lifted up; the oxygen mask covering his face was removed, and a cold metal cup was brought to his lips; the water tasted heavenly, soothing his dry, parched throat. The beaker was soon taken away, as the gentle hand lowered him back down. Pain flared in his midriff and he groaned aloud, his free hand clutching at it weakly.

"Not too much, not yet," the girl's voice whispered, talking to the other presence at his side, "he needs to take it slowly, Master Jedi, he is still very frail."

"Obi-Wan, can you hear me?"

"Y...yes, Master..."

Obi-Wan felt his Master's joy through their bond; only to have it tempered when he felt his student's pain and confusion in return.

"His wound is hurting him severely, Eirtaé – please, fetch some pain-relievers..."

"Right away, Master Jedi."

The female presence vanished from his side. Carefully, he managed to crack his eyes open, finally focussing on Qui-Gon's familiar face, and he felt tears rise unbidden, as he lifted his left arm weakly from his stomach, reaching up to touch his Master's face. Qui-Gon caught the hand in his, pressing it to his bearded cheek, leaning into the touch.

"Not... not... dead..." Obi-Wan choked out, even as a tear tracked its way out of the corner of his eye, running down the side of his face.

Qui-Gon gently thumbed away the errant droplet, smiling at him tenderly.

"No, Obi-Wan, you're alive, and you're going to be fine..."

"Not me, Master... you..."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I am fine, Padawan... and the Sith is dead... thanks mostly to you, my young apprentice, and your apparent foresight..."

"My vision," Obi-Wan drew in a gasping, shuddering breath, his stomach knotting in agony again, even as the girl reappeared, injecting medication into his neck, "I... I saw him... I saw... our fight..."

"I had suspected as much, Obi-Wan... hush, dear one, there is no need to speak of this now; you must rest, and recover your strength, so that we may soon return to Coruscant."

The cup was held to his lips again and he drank gratefully, but he needed to tell his Master of the vision that had been haunting him for days, so he tried to speak once more, the words coming in a strangled, stuttering rush.

"I saw..." Obi-Wan tried to shake his head, trembling uncontrollably now, desperate to convey his message to his Master, "In... my vision... I... I saw... you... die."

Qui-Gon froze only momentarily, but a strong feeling of love and warmth flooded across their bond, reassuring the wounded Padawan that his Master was truly alive and well.

"The future is always in motion, my young Padawan," the Master reminded him, softly, "and it seems I have avoided an untimely end at the hands of the Sith, thanks to you. Now, you must rest... I will ask the Queen to make arrangements for us to return to Coruscant; I think in a few hours you will be stable enough to travel, and I must speak with the Council urgently."

"Master... what... about... the boy...?"

Qui-Gon sighed, lowering Obi-Wan's hand back down to the bed, but not releasing it.

"It seems that, over the past day and night you've been unconscious, Anakin has formed quite the attachment to the Queen," he said, ruefully, "and she has taken a shine to him as well. The boy has told me that he has changed his mind… he does not want to be trained as a Jedi. He wishes to stay on Naboo and become a pilot in the Queen's service. The Council will no doubt be relieved... the boy has decided his own future."

"But...you said... he is the Chosen One..."

"The Force moves in mysterious ways, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiled, warmly, "as you have learned today. It is the boy's choice, and he might yet bring balance to the Force in other ways. As useful as your visions have been, do not forget..."

"Be... be mindful... of... of the future... but not... at the expense... of the moment..."

"You have learned so much in the last few days, my young Padawan," Qui-Gon ran a hand through the younger Jedi's hair affectionately, "there is little more you can learn from me, it seems... now, be mindful of this moment, and rest. I will go and speak to the Queen. Eirtaé will remain here with you."

Obi-Wan did not need any further encouragement; his eyes drifted closed and he slept, under the watchful eye of his Master and the Queen's handmaiden. When he was satisfied the young Jedi was fast asleep, Qui-Gon nodded briefly to the girl, and left to make the arrangements for their journey home.

The Queen was more than generous, agreeing to provide them with her personal transport ship and a pilot for their return to Coruscant. She added that she would ensure that the ship was well stocked with fresh food, accompanied by several bottles of sweet Nubian wine; gifts from the grateful monarch of a liberated populace. When the time came for them to leave, Qui-Gon requested that he and his Padawan be excused from the celebratory ceremony of peace, keen to avoid overtaxing Obi-Wan. The Queen had conceded, a little reluctantly, but deferred to the Jedi's request.

Qui-Gon had returned to the medical bay, where he had helped Obi-Wan dress in a clean tunic. Obi-Wan was then carefully lifted and moved onto a hover stretcher, the head of which was raised at an angle, allowing him to sit reclined but somewhat upright, which had proven more comfortable for his injury.

"I am perfectly capable of walking, Master," he protested, even as he guardedly placed one hand over his stomach, carefully settling back against the raised bed, "there really is no need for this..."

"Humour me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiled in response, "it is a very long walk to the hanger bay, and I would prefer that you do not exert yourself until the Temple Healers have had their turn with you."

"Oh – no, Master, surely that won't be necessary, please, not the Halls of Healing... I already feel so much better..."

Huffing an amused laugh at his Padawan's aggrieved protest, Qui-Gon gestured with his hand, and the stretcher hummed forwards, drawn to his side by the Force. He walked slowly down the hallways, his hands clasped in the long sleeves of his brown travel cloak, the hospital gurney floating beside him. He had been walking for a few minutes, before Obi-Wan suddenly realised they had not seen a single soul in the long, ornate halls of the sprawling palace.

"Where... where is everyone?" he asked, at long last, as they turned into yet another empty corridor.

"The Queen was most kind, and agreed to my request that the hallways be kept clear for us," Qui-Gon replied, mildly, "I thought you would prefer it, Padawan."

"I... yes, Master; thank you," Obi-Wan ducked his head to hide the embarrassed flush that crept up his cheeks.

It was true, he would have hated to be stared at, pointed at, the whispers and looks he would no doubt get from gawking onlookers in his weakened, wounded state. The only sound was the soft clicking of Qui-Gon's boot heels on the polished, tiled floors as they made their way towards the hanger. Although the bodies of the dead had been removed, the damaged droids taken for smelting and the wounded seen to; the blood cleaned up and the smells of battle aired away, the palace still bore tell-tale scars of conflict. There were blaster marks on the walls, pockmarks in the floors and scorched tapestries, along with the occasional broken plant pot or shattered statue.

Eventually, they reached the hanger bay doors; Qui-Gon reached out to open them, but Obi-Wan stopped him.

"Wait...Master?"

"Yes, Padawan?"

"I... if I may, Master; I would like to walk from here."

"Are you sure, Obi-Wan?"

"Please, Master... I don't want them all to see me like this."

Qui-Gon let out a reluctant sigh. His Padawan had no doubt sensed what he had; there was an assembled group of people waiting for them on the other side of the door.

"Be mindful of your pride, Obi-Wan," he rebuked his Padawan, mildly, "there is no shame in your injury."

"I know, Master... I just... ahh... I just..."

"You do not have to explain yourself, young one... I understand. Oh, very well. Let me help you..."

Qui-Gon waved the gurney lower to the ground, allowing Obi-Wan to carefully swing his legs over the side, his boots just reaching the floor. Qui-Gon held out both hands, palms up; Obi-Wan gave him a grateful smile, accepting the support, and they grasped each other's elbows. Qui-Gon eased Obi-Wan off the edge of the stretcher, not missing the pained grimace as he stood, breathing heavily. Qui-Gon waited for a moment, until Obi-Wan nodded.

"Okay," he said, a little breathlessly, "I'm okay."

"That is a matter for debate," Qui-Gon replied, dryly, but he nonetheless released his grip from Obi-Wan's right arm, waving the stretcher to one side, "I am not convinced you're ready for this, Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan straightened up a little, and then surprised his Master by looping his left arm around Qui-Gon's right elbow, leaning on his Master's arm for support. Qui-Gon nodded, approvingly.

"Ah, yes... yes, this is an acceptable compromise," the Master agreed, smiling down at his Padawan, "very well, then. Now... shall we?"

Obi-Wan nodded, wordlessly, and Qui-Gon waved his hand at the door control. The hanger doors hissed open obediently, and the two Jedi stepped through, the Master shortening his usual long stride in deference to his wounded apprentice. As they did so, two lines of dress-uniformed guards snapped to attention. Master and Padawan slowly made their way down between the two lines, at the end of which the sleek, chromed transport shuttle awaited them, ramp extended and ready to board.

In front of the ship stood the Queen, in full royal regalia, flanked by Captain Panaka, and four of her handmaidens. Anakin also stood there, a delighted grin on his face. He was wearing the uniform of a trainee pilot, and Qui-Gon could not suppress a smile of his own at the sight of him. The two Jedi came to a halt in front of the royal assembly, and Qui-Gon gave a respectful bow, careful not to jar his apprentice; he did not miss the way Obi-Wan bowed shallowly, wincing and clutching at his stomach, leaning a little more on his Master's arm as he did so.

"Master Jedi Jinn," the Queen's voice rang out through the hanger, imperiously, "Padawan Jedi Kenobi… we owe both of you our most grateful thanks. You saved our life, and those of many of our people, and you freed our planet from a threat most dire. You are always welcome on Naboo and in our halls."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Qui-Gon replied, "we, in turn, owe our thanks for your hospitality, and your assistance to my Padawan, in our moment of need."

"It was the very least that we could do," the Queen dropped her voice to a conversational level, "we wish you a safe journey home, Master Jinn... and Padawan Kenobi; we wish you a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, your Highness," Obi-Wan lowered his head, not even attempting to bow, his right hand now firmly clamped to his stomach.

Qui-Gon could feel a tremor passing through his apprentice, and knew he needed to cut the conversation short.

"With your permission, your Majesty..."

"I think you are forgetting something, Master," Obi-Wan interrupted him, gently.

Padawan? Qui-Gon sent the query through their bond, not wanting to ask aloud.

The boy, Master. You should go to him.

"Ah, yes, of course," Qui-Gon said, smoothly, "Anakin?"

"Yes, Mister Qui-Gon?" the boy's face shone with delight.

Obi-Wan gingerly released his hold on his Master's arm, swaying only slightly, giving the older Jedi a gentle nudge. Qui-Gon stepped forward and crouched down, kneeling in front of the youngster. Regret that Anakin would not be trained washed over him, but he released the feeling immediately; it was the boy's choice, and Qui-Gon already suspected the bond between Anakin and the young Queen would not have been easy to break... and Jedi were forbidden such attachments for good reason.

"You promise you will behave yourself?" Qui-Gon said, unconsciously reaching out and straightening the boy's tunic, affectionately.

"I promise!" he nodded, enthusiastically, "I'm gonna be the best pilot in the fleet, and Padmé... uh, I mean, the Queen... she's gonna send someone back to Tatooine; she's gonna buy my mom off Watto and bring her back here and set her free so she can be here with me, isn't that awesome?"

"That's wonderful, Anakin," Qui-Gon nodded, smiling at the child's unbridled joy, "remember – live in the moment, and always trust your instincts."

"I will, Qui-Gon, I promise!"

Without warning, Anakin flung himself forward, burying his face into the soft folds of the Jedi Master's cloak, throwing his arms around his neck. Qui-Gon returned the embrace fondly, as the boy mumbled; "Thank you for freeing me and everything. I'm sorry I'm not gonna be a Jedi like you wanted."

"All I want is for you to be happy, Anakin, and to achieve that, you must choose your own path," Qui-Gon replied, knowing the boy and his Padawan were not the only ones who had learned lessons from the ordeal of the past few days, "now, I must go home... we will see each other again; of that, I have no doubt."

He straightened up, as Anakin stepped back, standing beside the Queen, beaming proudly. Obi-Wan stood patiently, but Qui-Gon could see that his Padawan had paled significantly during his short time standing unassisted, the hand clutching his abdomen visibly shaking. His pride be damned... Qui-Gon stood beside him, placing his arm around Obi-Wan's back, pulling him close. Obi-Wan sagged against him in palpable relief, and the Queen favoured them both with a small smile.

"Go, with my thanks, Jedi," she bowed to them, and everyone, from the handmaidens to the honour guards, joined her.

"Thank you, your Highness."

Without further hesitation, Qui-Gon guided the flagging Obi-Wan up the ramp. The pilot was waiting for them inside, along with the blonde handmaiden.

"Eirtaé," Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

"The Queen commanded me to ensure your journey home is a comfortable one, Master Jedi," the girl bowed low, "if you will please follow me; I have prepared a bed for you to rest, Jedi Kenobi... pilot, we will be ready to depart as soon as our guests are settled, thank you."

The ramp closed behind them, and the pilot went to take his seat, as Qui-Gon, now bearing most of Obi-Wan's weight, half-carried the young Jedi through to the passenger room. Sure enough, a gurney had been placed against one of the bulkheads, the head slightly raised. He got Obi-Wan onto the soft mattress by the simple expedient of lifting him in a cradle hold, and laying him down upon it; as soon as he was reclined, the Padawan let out a moan of relief, both hands gripping his sore stomach, as Qui-Gon spared him a smile, stroking back his hair.

"You did well, my young Padawan; now it is time to rest."

"No argument from me this time, Master," groaned the young Jedi, tiredly.

Eirtaé was already removing Obi-Wan's boots, while Qui-Gon took care of locating the medical supplies, giving Obi-Wan a generous dose of painkillers. The handmaiden also fetched a blanket, draping it over the young Jedi, who was barely conscious enough to mumble his thanks. Her task finished, Eirtaé went to tell their pilot to launch. Within moments, Qui-Gon felt the ship taking off, quickly ascending into the skies above Naboo; finally, they were on their way home.

Back at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan found himself being carried on a hover-stretcher to the Halls of Healing, where he was soon safely ensconced in a bed. After checking the wound, changing the dressing, and sending the young Jedi into a deep healing trance, the Healers assured Qui-Gon that his Padawan would be fine to return to their quarters later that day. They confirmed he would make a full recovery, though he would be sore, and tire easily, for the next few days at least. Agreeing to come and collect his Padawan in a few hours, Qui-Gon left to make his report to the Council. As he strode into the Council Chambers, the fatigue of the last few days began to weigh heavily upon him, bowing his head and stooping his shoulders.

"Ahh... Master Qui-Gon, greetings," Master Yoda beckoned him inside, "exhausted, you are, hmm?"

"It... it has been a long few days, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon conceded, with a mirthless huff of a laugh.

"Sit, you may, then," Yoda told him, gesturing to the floor.

Qui-Gon sank to his knees, gratefully, folding his hands into his lap and making an effort to roll and relax his shoulders.

"Tell us, then," Mace Windu leaned forwards in his chair, clasping his hands under his chin and resting his elbows on his knees, "what transpired on Naboo?"

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Qui-Gon recounted the tale of their arrival back on the planet, recruiting the Gungans to their cause, the Queen's daring plan to capture the Viceroy and retake the palace, pausing only to answer the occasional question from the assembled Council members, until he began to detail their unexpected encounter with the Sith Zabrak. As his story unfolded, not a single Master interrupted him; he narrated the fight along the gangways of the palace's reactor core, finally coming to his Padawan's unexpected actions.

"Obi-Wan has always shown great prowess in battle and his skills with a lightsabre are becoming equal to my own," he commented, "and I have known for some time that, soon, the day is coming when he will best me in our practice spars, but... in this instance, not only was he countering our enemy's attacks, it was almost as if he... expected them. This was more than merely anticipating... As you all know, I favour Ataru and Obi-Wan has always followed that example in form, but in that confined space, I was at a disadvantage… yet I distinctly saw Obi-Wan blend Soresu into his fighting style to adapt accordingly, something I did not anticipate him being able to do. He seemed to know exactly what that Sith creature was doing, and when he was going to do it…"

"The visions young Kenobi has been seeing, you suspect?" Yoda asked him, knowingly.

"Yes," Qui-Gon answered, unhesitatingly, "Masters... that Sith creature was a predator and skilled in the Dark Side... he forced us into the reactor core shielding; too late, I realised his strategy. He was trying to drive us apart, to divide and conquer. At first he was trying to push Obi-Wan back, obviously thinking I was the greater threat; with me dead, he might have easily killed Obi-Wan and gone on to complete his mission... whatever it may have been. I doubt either of us could have bested him alone, but Obi-Wan anticipated and countered his plan, forcing him to fight us both together, somehow putting himself at the forefront of the battle and drawing the Sith's attention. I anticipated the next move the Sith made too late, and was momentarily knocked back, but then I saw Obi-Wan's face... he knew exactly what was coming. He avoided a very cunning strike and leapt back, or else he would have been impaled on that vile creature's sabre..."

"Hmm... something else there is, yes? Something more to the Padawan's vision, I sense..."

Qui-Gon swallowed, hard, and forced himself to meet Yoda's gaze evenly, keeping his voice calm and level; "He foresaw my death. His actions prevented it. I have no doubt the blow that wounded him would have been fatal to me. Were it not for Obi-Wan's vision and his actions, I would be one with the Force by now."

Silence fell for several long minutes, as the Council meditated on the kneeling Master's words, feeling the truth of them echoing in the Force.

"And what of the boy?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, at long last, "The vergence in the Force you spoke of?"

Qui-Gon gave a humourless laugh; "Anakin Skywalker is no longer the Council's concern – he has decided that he does not want to be trained."

"And satisfied, you are, with this decision?" queried Yoda.

"I... respect his right to choose his own path," Qui-Gon conceded, "and I understand the Council's refusal to train him, even if I do not necessarily agree with either of those decisions."

"Then there may be hope for you yet, Qui-Gon," Mace Windu permitted himself a small smile, leaning back in his chair, "Masters, I think we have heard enough for now. Qui-Gon, you should get some rest, and see to your Padawan... you should also know that, given the events of the past few days, and your report here today, the Council considers that Padawan Kenobi is ready for Knighthood."

"You mean he is to face the Trials?" Qui-Gon could not keep the surprise out of his voice, "Masters… surely after everything he has been through, he needs time to rest and recover… I do not disagree, he is indeed ready, but… he just faced a Sith in battle; the first Jedi to do so in generations…"

"Exactly," Windu's smile grew as he leaned forward a little, "and, as such, the Council feels it appropriate, under the circumstances, to waive the necessity of the Trials – we feel that young Obi-Wan has already passed them all."

"By your own admission, he showed great prowess in battle with the Sith," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, "though you struck the killing blow, young Kenobi made the victory possible and availed himself well in a blend of fighting forms, thereby passing the Trial of Skill."

"The Padawan demonstrated his bravery in facing such a foe," Yaddle agreed, "especially faced with the likelihood of one or both of your deaths, and has therefore completed the Trial of Courage."

"He was wounded in the battle," Plo Koon added, "he has suffered great physical pain, incurred great personal cost, but willingly took the risk to do so to protect others. He has passed the Trial of Flesh."

"His spirit is not in question," Adi Gallia chimed in, "he has shown his unflinching loyalty to the Jedi Order and has upheld our most sacred tenements; he was willing to lay down his life for the preservation of others… including you, Qui-Gon. No further Trial of Spirit is necessary."

"Beyond doubt, the young Padawan's insight is," Yoda nodded, sagely, "not only seen visions, but acted upon them wisely, he has. Passed this final Trial of Insight, he has."

"…And, as such, we are willing to Knight Padawan Kenobi," Windu finished, leaning back in his chair, "as soon as he is fit enough to undertake the ceremony… and with your blessing, of course."

Qui-Gon felt his heart both swelling with pride and breaking in two at the thought of his Padawan passing from his tutelage into Knighthood. He took in a deep breath, climbed to his feet, and bowed low.

"Thank you, Masters," he said, "perhaps I might be permitted to be the one to give him the good news?"

"Of course," Windu agreed, sharing a knowing look with Yoda, "go, Qui-Gon. Rest. Look after him. And give Padawan Kenobi the Council's warmest wishes for his recovery."

Qui-Gon bowed again, and left the room. He headed back to their quarters; he could tell from their training bond that Obi-Wan was still deep in his healing trance, so he had a few hours to sleep and prepare their quarters for his Padawan's return. He shook his head at the thought that Obi-Wan would not be his Padawan for much longer, and he tried not to think about just how empty his living quarters would feel without Obi-Wan's familiar presence… he focussed instead on his quiet pride in his young apprentice.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Knight," he murmured, smiling quietly to himself, "whatever will become of the future now, I wonder...?"