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My Place is at Your Side

~ Part Five: Inexplicable Collapse ~

Obi-Wan:

The temperature had dropped substantially during the course of our conversation and even though I tried to ignore it and meditate, I could not. I was freezing. My skin was covered in large goose bumps, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end, and my teeth were chattering. My fingers, swollen and colored slightly red-blue, were stiff and ached in protest when I clenched them into fists to help keep them warm. The very air I breathed was a foggy white when I exhaled, and the water in my tunics was frigid enough to feel like icicles.

Wrapping my arms around myself for warmth, I tried rocking back and forth slightly, but it was to no avail. Meditation would help, but I couldn't concentrate enough to initiate it. If we weren't released from this "Ice Box" soon, I was afraid that I'd suffer hypothermia. If I entered such a state, I wouldn't be able to help Qui-Gon escape should the opportunity arise.

I jumped slightly when I felt the coarse touch of something being draped over my shoulders. Opening my eyes, I saw that Qui-Gon had removed his outer cloak and was in the process of wrapping it around my huddled body, tenderly smoothing it over me. "It's wet on the outside," he whispered, "but a Master's robes are thicker than a Padawan's, and the water didn't completely soak it."

He cupped my cheek, "It will keep you warm for a little while," he smiled, and then returned to his position across from me as calmly as if he had just given me a cover on a cold night, as opposed to warmth that he needed as badly as I did.

I shook my head, "Qui-Gon, no. I can't accept this." His unwillingness to leave me behind had landed him here, but I wouldn't let him selflessly sacrifice what would keep him conscious. Relishing the warmth for only a few seconds, I quickly shrugged the robe off of me and attempted to hand it back to Qui-Gon, who calmly bore a look that plainly told me in no uncertain terms that I could hold it out to him for the rest of time and yet he still would not withdraw his offer.

"When the Tarcalian threatened to kill you, Padawan," he spoke so softly I could barely hear him, "I couldn't tell if he was bluffing, and that scared me. I did not let them capture me in order to watch you freeze."

A flood of emotions thrummed within me, manifesting as a tender ache in my heart that expanded to make my throat tighten and my breath catch. However, as much as I was grateful to Qui-Gon for what he was trying to do, I couldn't let him. Before, when the Tarcalian had held me helpless, there was little I could do. Now that I could act, I would not accept this. "I do not wish to watch you freeze either, Master."

Qui-Gon still made no move to take the robe back from me, so I let it drop between us, its warm folds of material going unused against the cold metal floor. It was silly for neither of us to take it, but I was determined that my Master would use it to preserve his warmth. He was the most skilled; it made sense for him to retain the most strength.

My Master stared at me intensely, his stubbornness shinning as clearly in his eyes as I was sure it did in mine. He was very bullheaded when he had made up his mind, and having been trained by him for five years, I had picked up the same trait. The result was a stalemate in which neither of us was willing to back down.

Finally, Qui-Gon laughed softly and moved as far back in the cage as he could. Then he shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged and extended his arms to me. "Come here, Padawan," he ordered, "Our combined body heat should keep us both warm for the time being."

Hesitating only momentarily, I scooted forward and crept onto my Master's lap. Then I turned around so that my back was tucked against his chest and my head was resting just under his chin. After letting me adjust my position for a few seconds, Qui-Gon closed his arms around me and drew the robe forward, spreading it out over the both of us.

Clutching the material tightly in my fisted hands, I felt the stiffness ease a little in response to the heat. Slowly, the chill that had settled over me receded. It was still cold, and I knew it would get worse, but the caring I felt in the way my Master protectively held me was enough to make me feel better and temporarily melt away any worries that I would freeze to death.

Through our bond I could feel my Master's concern for me, as well as a deep caring and peace at holding me this way. Basking in the sensation, I drew those emotions into me and sent him my own in return. Despite our current situation, I felt inexplicably safe in Qui-Gon's warm embrace, and for the first time since the crash, I let myself completely relax, sinking back comfortably against him. "Thank you, Master," I murmured softly, allowing myself to close my eyes and rest.

He responded by pressing a gentle kiss to my hair, and tightening his arms. Simultaneously, through our bond, he drew me into a shared meditation in which his own deep serenity and connection to the Force helped me enter a completely calm state that I usually only achieved when he allowed me to do this, but had briefly touched when landing the shuttle.

With a smile, I drifted into the tranquil waters of meditation as Qui-Gon soothingly rubbed my chest in slow circles.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You have to evacuate the building," I told the Directors urgently, "Now." When neither of them moved to comply, I yelled, "If we don't get everyone out of here before the bomb blows, 500 people could die!"

Both men hurried out of their office.

I turned to follow them but before I could even take one step, a hateful voice filled my mind with its sneering words, "You're too late to save your precious Master, Obi-Wan," it taunted gleefully, "but you're just in time to watch him die."

Oh, Force. The bomb wasn't in the Directors' Complex; it was in the hotel where I had left Qui-Gon! Horrified, I leapt back to the window from which I could see my Master standing in our suite, still staring up in my direction.

Glancing down at the timer, I felt my stomach leap up into my throat. The bold red digits of the device proudly displayed that only ten seconds remained before it would hit zero. That wasn't enough time!

I was suddenly filled with a palpitating fear that sent a sharp pain cascading across my chest and made my heart pound. Clenching talons of terror clawed at my body, making everything ache. A wash of frigid pain ran down me and I began to tremble in dread. "Qui-Gon," I managed to whisper urgently, barely able to wrench the name from my dry and tight throat, "run…"

The timer in my hand beeped loudly, flashing the number zero.

"No!" I screamed, transfixed in position as I watched a ball of flame envelop the window where Qui-Gon had been standing, sending shards of concrete and broken glass falling from the fancy hotel. Among the flying ruble was my Master's body, burned, charred, and utterly lifeless.

"Qui-Gon!" I yelled, and senselessly began pounding the windowpane with my fists, breaking it with the strength of my grief. Fractured glass exploded to cover the floor, knocking down the red timepiece that had been sitting on the sill. With a shattering crash it landed on the floor, stopping the counting of time at exactly twelve noon. Next to it was my broken wristband.

Drowning out all other sounds, even the sizzling of the flames that had cloaked the hotel and my gasped inhalations of breath, the same livid voice continued to speak, "Jedi are bound by their traditions and their rules. A Jedi may not feel fear, a Jedi may not feel hatred, a Jedi may not even feel love. You so called 'Guardians of Peace' are trapped in a life of loneliness and now I will put your Master out of his misery forever."

Heedless of my surroundings, heedless of everything, I continued to hit what was now a wall of nothingness until my hands were caught and held in an invisible grip that was firm but painless.

Struggling madly against it, I twisted my arms and hands around frantically in the air, all the while whispering, "No, no, no…," as I fruitlessly attempted to break free from the persistent hold, which was now increasing in strength and sending sparks throbbing up my arms.

"Let me go!" I screamed at my invisible foe, thrashing frenetically

Abruptly, the world went completely dark around me and I couldn't see anything at all. The debris and the snide voice disappeared, but the restraining grasp remained and I continued to fight with all the strength of my anguish.

A flash of insight told me that my eyes were closed so I snapped them open, coughing harshly as I inadvertently gagged on a gasped breath of air. Bright light blinded my vision, stinging at my eyes for a few moments until I became accustomed to it. My heart thudded viciously against my chest and my rapid breathing overwhelmed my ears, distracting me enough so that I didn't immediately realize where I was and continued to try and pull my hands free.

Finally, the image of Qui-Gon's concerned face broke through my hysteria and I froze as disbelief battled with realization. I wasn't in an office…I was sitting in my Master's lap and it was he who held my wrists in a vice-grip. It had been a dream.

"M-Master?" I questioned timidly, my heart still pumping fear into my veins.

"Yes, Padawan," my Master's voice was gentle, soothing, and I felt a flood of reassurance through our bond, "it's all right, my young friend, I'm right here." Then he released my hands and instead pulled me forward so that my head was resting against his chest. Stroking my hair softly, he continued to murmur, "It's all right," while I struggled to compose myself.

Forcibly, I calmed my breathing until my heart rate slowly dropped off to normal and the fear drained from my tense body. Letting out a sigh that was almost a sob, I let the trepidation leave me and relaxed into his arms. It had been a dream. It had seemed so real, but it had only been a dream.

I let my eyes drift shut and I shook my head. I had let my fear rule my actions, again. My cheeks burned with my blush as embarrassment quickly replaced my panic. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, shamed, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Qui-Gon released my hands and smiled, "No, my Padawan, you didn't hurt me. Your screaming woke me up and your fear flooded me through our bond, but I managed to fend off your maniacal attack before you pounded your way through my chest. "

It had been his chest I had pounded against! I knew that he was joking but his words only served to heighten my humiliation at having been so caught up in a dream – again. I was eighteen; I wasn't supposed to wake up screaming from nightmares anymore. "Master…"

Gentle lips pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "Shh," he silenced, "you cannot control your nightmares, there's no reason to be ashamed."

It wasn't my nightmare I was ashamed of, it was my reaction to it. It was the fear that I hadn't been able to control that disgraced me. Qui-Gon never woke up screaming from a nightmare. Qui-Gon never let his fear control him. Would I ever be like him?

Although unconvinced, I nodded and pulled back until I was sitting just in front of him, instead of in his lap. It was then that I noticed we were no longer in the Ice Box. Qui-Gon and I were sitting in the middle of a clearing in the forest. The storm had finally ended and the warmth and light of a welcoming sun made it a surprisingly beautiful day.

The storm had knocked down more than a few trees and those that still stood had lost many of their leaves to the rampaging winds. Green, orange, and red leaves covered the forest ground and the patches of dark green grass showing through here and there made it look like a sea of intermingling colors. Water – covering every tree, plant, leaf, and flower with tiny droplets and rippling pools – made everything glisten and reflect the golden rays of sunlight that bathed the landscape. It truly was a wondrous sight.

Turning slightly to look at all our surroundings, I let out a small gasp. The fallen trees that dotted the forest, displaying broken, splintered wood and unearthed roots, had been struck down by natural forces, but to either side of us was a corridor that ran through clearing and ensuing trees, several meters wide, that was anything but a result of the storm. The trees, indeed even the very grass, had been smashed to the ground and were utterly destroyed. On one end the strip led to the base of a small cliff, and in the other direction, in the far distance, I could see…our shuttle. It was the destruction path our crash had created.

Doing a double take, I once again looked all around us. Where were the Tarcalians? Where was the Ice Box? What had happened? Before the dream, the last thing I remembered was falling asleep in the cell, waiting for the Tarcalians to do the saboteur's biding. There was no sign that we had ever been held prisoner. Had Qui-Gon somehow miraculously escaped while I was asleep and set me free as well?

"Qui-Gon," I voiced my uncertainty with ample measures of sarcasm, "I know that you're an extremely talented Jedi but I was unaware of your ability to fight off six Tarcalians while sleeping. One day you'll have to teach me how you did it."

He shot me a falsely withering look that was betrayed by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Actually, Padawan mine, I am quite certain that it was your renown appetite that scared them away – they must have been afraid that you'd wake up, eat your way out of the Ice Box, and then come after them. After all, you eat more than a grown Frelock does after four months of hibernation."

Force, he always teased me about my appetite, but I didn't eat that much. As a young man I needed large amounts of…nourishment, did he expect me to starve? I sent a mock glare my Master's way before turning the conversation more serious. "So…what happened? Why did they let us go?"

Qui-Gon looked pensive, "Why, indeed."

I immediately sensed when his attention turned to the Force and didn't answer, allowing him to find his center and try to get some answers to our questions. When he was finished he touched my arm lightly and gestured to the ground around us. "Look, Obi-Wan. The left us exactly where the Ice Box was."

Looking closely, I realized he was right. The leaves in the area immediately surrounding us were smashed into the mud and the dirt level was at least two inches lower than the rest of the clearing. They had placed the Ice Box here and it had formed an impression in the mud that remained upon its removal.

A few feet away, a metallic gleam, obscured by leaves and mud, caught my eye. Intrigued, I reached forward and brushed aside the grime and muck, to reveal…our lightsabers. In disbelief, I dug my fingers further into the soft ground and urged the two cylindrical shaped objects up.

"Curious," Qui-Gon murmured, taking his weapon from me, "very curious."

I agreed, but said nothing. Instead I closely examined the hilt of my weapon, searching for any signs of tampering. Instead I found that, despite the filth that marred its surface, it seemed in perfect working order. There was no reason for it not to function.

"The Tarcalians released us under the orders of the man truly responsible for all of this, which makes it plausible that he also told them to return our weapons to us," he mused, stroking his beard – something he only did when he was extremely troubled.

"We know that man wants to kill us," I added, "and he made it sound like he has an entire list of things plotted for us before he does that. What if he left us our lightsabers so that we can live through whatever's coming next?"

The stern look he shot me told me he was as disturbed by that thought as I was. "I fear you may be right. He doesn't want us dead too soon, so he has left us something that he is certain will ensure our survival."

The loud crunching of leaves and twigs alerted us that something was approaching and it took but a few moments to realize it was coming from the direction of our shuttle and using the destruction path to reach us. I wanted to believe that it was the rescue team but the noises were much too loud to be footsteps, more like heavy thuds that made the ground tremble very slightly.

The Force swarmed suddenly around me, sending an ominous spark of foreboding through my body and igniting a tendril of apprehension within me. Within its light I felt the darkness of something evil…not, not evil, simply…destructive, coming. Spurred by the feeling, which was rapidly growing to fill my heart with the certainty that we were yet again, in trouble, I jumped to my feet and turned on my lightsaber. Qui-Gon, having sensed the same thing, reacted just an instant before me and, as always, had already activated his weapon.

Just then, a medium-sized droid marched into view. Its basic configuration was standard – consisting of a cylindrical shaped body that was attached to two 'legs' of adjustable length. However, the two weapon-firing barrels that obtruded from either side of it were much larger than usual and the plated insignia on them was unfamiliar to me.

"It's a PyroDroid Destroyer," my Master supplied without lifting his gaze from the approaching foe, "it shoots out streams of fire from each barrel."

That meant that we wouldn't be able to use our lightsabers, as they could not deflect fire. We would have to dodge the fire until the droid came close enough for one of us to destroy it. Fleeing was always an option, but it had been my experience that destroyers, whatever their design, locked onto a target and only relinquished it upon extermination, or the acquiring of a new, more dangerous, target.

"It will be coming into firing…" Qui-Gon's usually steady, calm voice was inordinately shaky and he abruptly fell silent with a sharp gasp. A cloud of dizzy pain stormed our bond to make my own head throb in an echo of what my Master was feeling. The pounding lasted at the most half a second before our bond snapped completely shut so that I could not even gain a notion of what had happened or why.

Worry made my heart flutter.

Tearing my eyes away from the destroyer, I glanced towards my Master. To a stranger he would have seemed fine, but I could see that he was shaking ever so slightly and that he was a shade pale. His stance was not fluid and graceful, but more like he was struggling to maintain his equilibrium, fighting against the incredible pain that had suddenly beset him.

"Qui-Gon?" in my urgency the question was almost a yell, for my Master had never faltered so harshly without reason. Not for the first time since the crash, I wondered if what remained of his wound was worse than I thought. I knew that he was fully blocking me from his mind so that I would not be distracted by what he was experiencing, but my lack of insight into what was causing this only made me more anxious.

"It's just about to…enter firing…range…" the words were strained, almost choked, and although they were compelling me to defend myself, I found I could not focus my attention on the droid when something was obviously very wrong with my Master.

The lightsaber slipped from Qui-Gon's fingers as a fit of wretched convulsions tore through his body, causing him to waver on his feet. With flailing arms he attempted to regain his balance, but moments later he went crashing to his knees with a strangled groan.

My heart suddenly began pounding in my chest, as if trying to break free from its confines. Fear born totally of worry for my Master, not of the impending threat, closed in on me. "What is it, Qui-Gon?" I demanded, stepping closer to him while placing my lightsaber in my left hand so that I could touch his shoulder with my right.

Pushing me away with a shaky arm, he firmly ordered, "No, Obi-Wan, don't." Despite the tremor in his voice I recognized his dead serious, no-nonsense tone that always made me think I had done something wrong.

An eruption of loud bangs made me look up just in time to see the destroyer fire…a stream of blaster shots. I frowned, confused, even as I raised my lightsaber and prepared to deflect them. Qui-Gon had said that it was a PyroDroid Destroyer, so why wasn't it shooting fire? Had my Master been wrong, or had the droid been altered?

Leaping forward so that I could stand in front my Master and protect him from the volley, I easily swept my lightsaber from side to side to deflect the shots from each firing barrel. I had full confidence in my ability to destroy the droid and my concern for Qui-Gon urged me to do so with all possible speed. I had to figure out what was wrong with him.

I shot a glance behind me, feeling a rush of panic upon seeing that he was crouched against the ground, cradling his head in his arms and rocking back and forth. Relatively loud, uneven gasps testified to his erratic breathing, and his fists were clenched so tightly that I could see the bulging blue veins in the back of his hands. He was always so good at controlling pain, and I had momentarily felt but a shadow of his agony, which meant that he was in serious anguish. What in the world was hurting him so much that it caused such a violent reaction in him?

As much as my agitation was compelling me to stop and help Qui-Gon, I knew I could not. I had to destroy, or disable, the PyroDroid first. I could not let my fear distract me, for that would only make me take longer in defeating it, and I knew I had no time to waste. The sooner I could see to my Master, the better. Therefore, as he had taught me to do, I accepted my fear and let it flow through me – filling myself with calm instead of worry.

When the PyroDroid promptly fired another torrent of shots, I was ready. Centering myself deeply in the Force, I purposefully deflected each and every blaster shot so that it would be directed back towards the droid. Then I waited to see what damage they would inflect and was surprised when a spherical shield shimmered around destroyer, causing the blaster fire to bounce off harmlessly with a fizzle.

The destroyer had been modified, I realized with growing alarm. It had shields, which I had only seen on the newer droids that were built to seek out and destroy space targets, such as shuttles or ships. That meant that I had only one good chance left to disable it – the Force.

Raising my hand, I reached out to the Force and prepared to send the droid flying. With closed eyes I drew from the energy that surrounded me and connected all living things. Then, releasing a ripple of power that surged through the air with a violence that always surprised me considering the serene nature of the Force, I opened my eyes just in time to see…absolutely nothing happen.

Absentmindedly, I blocked the next volley of shots.

Why hadn't that worked? It was then that I saw the small black needle-shaped devices that had been installed around the circumference of the shooting barrels. They were Force deflectors, which meant that I wouldn't be able to use the Force directly against it. So now what was I supposed to do? Something was wrong with Qui-Gon, I didn't have time to…

An idea hit me with sudden alacrity. Most droids had a nearly inexhaustible energy supply, were very fast, but not very maneuverable. As long as I acted quickly, without giving it time to follow my movements, this would be very easy to pull off.

Somersaulting up into the air, I once again centered myself and drew the Force in from around me. However, this time instead of sending it outward, I used it to in conjunction with my own physical strength, to carry me forward. With its assistance, I landed just in back of the PyroDroid.

Quickly, I struck at the destroyer's force field with my lightsaber. Holding the blade of pulsating light steady, I let my weapon fight against the sizzling and shimmering shield until the latter gave out with a distorted crackle energy. Then, just as the droid was beginning to turn around, I swerved my lightsaber in a slicing motion that cut the PyroDroid in half.

For a moment I stood there watching. When the disjointed droid did not move, I turned and jogged back to Qui-Gon, who was now curled up in a ball, his face a mask of contorted agony that I had never seen on him before. The image sickened me, and reawakened the alarm I had calmed.

Deactivating my lightsaber, I attached it to my utility belt and dropped to my knees next to my Master. Using the Force, I tried to gain some idea of what was happening to him. With an open bond it would have been easy, but now I could only rely on a vague sense that told me that this had nothing to do with his wound and that the problem was much more insidious than that.

My throat constricted tightly and my concern grew with every beat of my heart, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to bury my worry and focus on helping Qui-Gon instead. "Qui-Gon," I murmured softly, gently prying his fingers from around his head so that I could hold his hands in my own. "Master, drop your shields. Please, let me help."

Qui-Gon's fingers dug into the skin of my hands as his grip tightened spasmodically, but he either didn't hear me, or chose to ignore my plea. Instead I could feel him releasing his pain into the Force, not fighting it, but accepting it and letting it filter though his body. It seemed to be working, because the lines of pain that were etched on his face were beginning to fade slightly and his breathing became more even, but I knew that if he only let me help him, together we could release the pain much quicker than him working alone.

Force, he was so stubborn! Why wouldn't he let me help him? If he would only drop those damned shields I could use some of my energy to ease his pain. He had done the same thing for me several times, but he never let me return the favor. It wasn't pride, but the misplaced notion that by doing this, he was protecting me.

Sighing, I pulled his trembling body up into my lap so that his head was resting against my stomach. Then I released one of his hands and began rocking us slowly back and forth while soothingly brushing my fingers through his hair. If he wouldn't let me help him, I at least would comfort him until he regained his control and let the pain go. "I'm right here," I reminded him of my presence, telling him that I was here for him as he had always been there for me.

"I…know," he croaked softly, and his crumbling voice sent spears flying through me. He was the epitome of strength to me. Always so serene, always so controlled. I could barely stand to see that ripped from him like this, "thank…you."

"Shh, Master," I whispered, leaning down to rest my forehead against his, "don't speak."

Slowly, his shaking lessened and his breathing deepened. Then the death-grip he had on my hand relaxed and he intertwined our fingers. The pained look on his face disappeared and was replaced by his usual, serene expression. I felt the Force pulse around him and instantly knew when he had found his center. When he searched for and held my eyes with his own, his gaze was steady.

The knot that had formed around my heart eased and I felt some of my worry lessen. Relief rushed through me. I knew, with deep seeded certainty, that whatever had caused this would strike again, but he was all right for now. "Qui-Gon," I whispered, gently caressing his cheek with a trembling palm, and then smiling as a blush colored my face.

Lifting our intertwined hands, I pressed a kiss to his fingers. "What happened?"

"It was…a sudden flaring pain in my head," he spoke very softly without moving, seeming content to stay in my lap.

"What caused it?" I tightened my grip on his hand and placed my other one on his chest, just over his heart. I could feel the even rising and falling of his chest, and the steady, albeit a little quick, beat of his heart under my hand, and it soothed me.

He shook his head slightly, "I don't know," he admitted. "It happened before, though…not as bad. It…it was when we were attacked on the shuttle, and the Tarcalian pulled you off the ship. I…I wanted to help you, but I was incapacitated for a short while."

I bent my head very slightly and released a small sigh. He had known that something was wrong and hadn't seen it fit to inform me? "You didn't tell me," I struggled not to sound accusatory, "and you said you'd be all right when I asked you in the Ice Box."

"I thought it was…a remnant of the wound at first and I-I didn't want to worry you, Obi-Wan," he reached up to rub his thumb over the cleft in my chin, "You were frightened after we were captured, I knew you'd only feel worse if I told you. So while you were asleep, I initiated a healing trace…but it didn't work because…I have no physical wounds anymore."

A Master wasn't obligated to inform a Padawan of things that didn't directly affect the mission, but damn it, this did, especially since we didn't know what the problem was. He had already collapsed during two crucial moments, and it could happen again. During negotiations, perhaps, or at a time when it would cost one of us our lives. Furthermore, even if it didn't affect the mission, it was still important to me. I cared for him.

I pulled back from his touch, closing my eyes at the brief flash of hurt that flickered across his face. Then I spoke firmly, making sure he was meeting my gaze, "Qui-Gon, I understand why you didn't tell me," I assured him, squeezing his hand, "but you should have. Do you remember that mission when I got sick and didn't tell you because you were so worried about the negotiations and I didn't want to distract you from them?"

He nodded.

"And then you told me to never keep anything like that from you for that reason, or any other. You said that no matter what was going on, even during the middle of the most serious, most delicate negotiations, you wanted to know if I wasn't feeling well. Now, as your Padawan I know I can't demand things from you, but as you friend I demand the same courtesy of you. I don't care if that means fearing for your life, I don't care if that means feeling your pain, I want to know when something's wrong."

Taking a deep breath, I calmed a sudden shot of nervousness. I had never come this close to actually lecturing my Master, and I was a little scared that he would consider me insubordinate. We had a deep respect for each other and our teacher/student relationship was gradually transforming into an equal partnership, but perhaps the time hadn't yet come when I could, in effect, reprimand him.

Silence fell between us, only serving to increase the tension I felt. What if he thought I was being disrespectful? What if I had overreached my bounds? I knew I had just crossed a line I had never come near before, and wasn't sure what to expect.

Finally, I felt a pulse of reassurance and acceptance through our bond, which was now as open as usual, "You're right, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiled up at me, "You're not the young boy I first took as my apprentice, maybe I've simply been trying to hold on to him for too long. I'm sorry."

I released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. He had just done more than apologize and agree that he was wrong, he had realized, even as I had, that I was changing and growing. Furthermore, had given me some of the independence I would need as I came closer to my Knighting.

"Thank you." Then I shot him a suspicious look and said, "And if you have another episode, you'll lower your shields and let me help you?" Somehow, I managed to keep the worry that thought brought me from my voice. We were out in the middle of nowhere, what if next time Qui-Gon couldn't release the pain?

There was a brief pause of hesitation, a lingering desire to keep protecting me, but he nodded, "I promise, Obi-Wan."