For full info see first chapter.



Well, here it is! The third chapter. Thanx to all who read/reviewed/emailed me, you guys are great! Now, without further adu…



* * *



The master lunged at his padawan, hoping to catch the younger off guard. When the boy sidestepped the blade, a simple flick the elder's wrist set the 'saber upon him again.

Block, block – parry

The master slowed his actions, deliberately allowing flaws in his sword- handling, giving his padawan a chance to exploit his "carelessness." Noticing the Jedi master's mistakes, the apprentice quickly took advantage of them – at his own safety's expense. The boy left far too many openings, let his guard fall in hopes of defeating his opponent; were he fighting an actual enemy, he would have been dead ten times over.

The more opportunities the master purposefully gave, the more the student unknowingly did. The elder allowed this to continue, waiting for his padawan's performance to hit such a level that, when the apprentice was defeated, the lesson would have an impact.

Qui-Gon had used that technique before. Only once, but that was enough. Obi-Wan never made that mistake again, not after the particularly humiliating kill-point which he received after flying twenty feet from his training mat and into the middle of another match. Qui-Gon's pride in his padawan soared after witnessing Obi-Wan rise, turn to the knights whose battle he had interrupted, apologize – adding, with a touch of his trademark humor, that, whoever the loser may be, he should feel completely free to blame the loss on the padawan who smacked into him during the duel – walk over, drop down onto their own mat, and wait expectantly for the deserved kill-point. Then, he felt pride; now, as he watched the master/padawan team spar, he felt a surge of annoyance.

He padawan was late.

Checking the chrono for the umpteenth time, Qui-Gon noted that another thirty-three seconds had passed. It was eleven minutes and twenty-seven seconds past ten.

If I have to go fetch him, Qui-Gon thought, I'd better find him on his deathbed – or he'll wish he was.

,

With another quick glance at the now ended sparing match – the master was helping the padawan up from the training mat, lecturing on overconfidence – Qui-Gon turned to greet the sudden arrival of a familiar Force presence.

"Padawan, what time is it?"

"Ten thirteen, Master."

"And what time were you told to be here?"

Obi-Wan sighed, "The tenth hour, Master."

Qui-Gon turned from him strode towards the mat, Obi-Wan following meekly. Qui-Gon addressed the apprentice without looking back, knowing that the boy was following, "Have you stretched yet?"

"Yes, Master."

"Fine. We will spar and after, you will meditate on the virtue of punctuality."

Obi-Wan again loosed a barely audible sigh. He had not meant to be late; his bed had just seemed so inviting and, having only slept one hour, his mind could not resist his tired body's desires. Awaking at five after the tenth hour, Obi-Wan quickly donned his workout tunic and sprinted down the hall towards the training rooms only to realize, halfway there, that he had forgotten his lightsaber. By the time he had actually arrived at the training room, his master's annoyance was almost palpable – not only through the bond, but through the Force as well. Steeling himself, he had entered preparing for – and receiving – a justifiably cold welcome.

It would be best not to further aggravate Qui-Gon, he thought; just agree.

"Yes, Master."

Each took his place on opposite ends of the training mat; sparing time, same as always, sans the usual warmth flowing between them.

Though Obi-Wan was quickly recovering from his hangover of sorts, being forced to spar against an angry Jedi master, from whom he was certain to receive no quarter, was not high on his list of 'must do's'. Oh, what he would have given to have been there on time! Not only had he to deal with his master's warranted annoyance, but also his mind now had his ill characteristic of tardiness to concentrate on…

Nevertheless, when Qui-Gon bowed , signaling the commencement of the duel, Obi-Wan mimicked his motion. When the master struck, the student parried. Qui-Gon led an unyielding offence, not a result of Obi-Wan's stupid mistake, but rather force of habit. Never expecting more than he believed his padawan could give, even at times of tension between them, Qui-Gon kept his moves quite fundamental, yet flawless.

Parry, thrust, dodge, slash, block - *faster*

Qui-Gon, still keeping his attacks at a level far below what Obi-Wan knew he was capable of, began to speed up his advances.

He believes that I can't handle the higher level moves, Obi-Wan thought dejectedly, that I can't defend myself against them.

Refocusing himself, Obi-Wan again directed his attention on the battle. His master feeling that Obi-Wan could only deal with initiate level attacks was enough of a humiliation; to have Qui-Gon notice that his padawan was also not focusing on the duel would be crushing.

Parry, lunge, block, thrust, thrust, *strike*

Obi-Wan, in an effort to avoid his master's well positioned blade, black- flipped several feet, but misjudged the speed of his opponent and upon landing had to spin quickly to get out of the way of the emerald blade.

Not quickly enough.

Obi-Wan yelped as he felt the heat of the 'saber against the skin of his right arm, stumbled backwards and fell ungracefully onto the hard mat. Qui- Gon hastily powered down his weapon and was at his fallen padawan's side in a moment, previous emotions overtaken with concern for the boy.

Observing the singed tunic sleeve, Qui-Gon ordered gently, "Let me see."

Panicking, Obi-Wan tightened his shields, "Master, it's nothing, really."

"Padawan."

Qui-Gon's tone held no room for argument. Obi-Wan threw a skeptical look to his master before gingerly rolling the sleeve of his tunic up to his mid- bicep, revealing reddened, but unmarred flesh.

Sighing in relief, Qui-Gon placed his cool hand against his apprentice's radiating flesh, absorbing some of the heat emitted by the minor burn. Painful, surely, but it could have been so much worse.

Rising then offering a hand to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon walked over a chair, and grabbed the two towels draped across it, keeping one and tossing the other to his apprentice. The Jedi master mopped his brow before addressing the padawan, "I think that's enough for today. Why don't we go back to our rooms and get cleaned up?" Qui-Gon paused for a moment, "That is, if you don't want to have the healers look at your arm."

"Healers? Um, no. No, I don't think I will, Master."

Qui-Gon smirked at Obi-Wan's standard response. The only time the boy ever went to a healer was when he was either unconscious or too weak to run in the other direction.

"Very well, Padawan. Let's get out of here." Qui-Gon placed a protective arm around his padawan, mindful of the injury, and the two walked through the halls in a comfortable silence, Obi-Wan's previous error all but forgotten.

As he palmed open the door to their quarters, Qui-Gon spoke, "If you don't mind, I'd like to take my shower first. I have a meeting to be at in half an hour and your classes don't start for two."

Obi-Wan nodded, "I don't mind, Master. I'll just go straighten up my room."

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at this response, but entered the 'fresher without another word. Exhaling a trembling breath, Obi-Wan walked hastily down the hallway to his room, entered the chamber, palmed the door shut and went over to his dresser. The padawan used his left hand to dig through several of his drawers, under-breath curses punctuating the entire search.

Finally, Obi-Wan found the object he was looking for, picked it up, and carried it over to his sleep couch, setting it next to him as he sat down on the firm mattress. He opened the small first-aid box and plucked a bacta patch from within. Carefully rolling up his tunic, wincing the entire time, Obi-Wan pulled up the sleeve to just above the reddened skin – just above what he had shown Qui-Gon – to reveal a deep, angry looking scorch mark – the real result of the 'saber's contact with his skin.

Obi-Wan braced himself before slapping the healing patch onto the offending skin, gasping as it latched itself onto the wound, immediately hastening the healing process.

Obi-Wan tugged the tunic sleeve back down, concealing the bacta patch quite effectively. Checking his bond, he affirmed that Qui-Gon was at present enjoying a hot shower and, more importantly, was oblivious to what had just taken place in his padawan's bedchamber.

Well, Kenobi, Obi-Wan thought, that was a little too close. What do you think the healers would have found had they given you a full examination as Master would have insisted?

Rubbing his temples, Obi-Wan checked his chrono; thirty-seven minutes after the eleventh hour…another ten hours left before the day was done and Obi- Wan could go to sleep and forget any of it had ever happened.

Ten hours.

Joy.



Soooo, what do ya think? Any clearer? Probably not, lol. Well, you'll get a few more pieces of the puzzle soon…in two or three posts. Now, go be good lil Jedi and review!