Ewan's girl I wasn't sure when Obi Wan was searching for Qui Gon, but really this is such an emotional story that works on several levels. I'm just glad it's working on at least one! Athena Thank you.

Anakin looked at the man who had once been the steady center of his existence, and an emptiness rose in his stomach. "He's gone again." He said softly to his Master, walking through the grit and stone. "But he's not gone. Not really. Now we both know that.

"He wouldn't want you to do this, Obi-Wan. He came here, he used everything he had to find you. Don't make it a worthless effort--don't do this."

Obi-Wan's eyes were still fixed to the spot where Qui-Gon had been a moment before. "I can't be led by him anymore. I don't want---I don't want anything but nothing."

Anakin inhaled the thick air. "Isn't that what you have now?"

Obi-Wan looked up, dried lines of tears on his bruised face.

"Isn't that what you have now, Master, with me? Now that Qui-Gon's left--all you have is me--and that must not amount to much." Anakin forced himself to swallow through the shaky lump in his throat. "You must have nothing left to live for."

The Knight shook his head and wiped his forearm across his eyes. "No, Anakin." He whispered. "You are worth living for--you're worth more than you can understand--and that's why I have to do this."

Anakin looked down. "Because I'm the Chosen One. That's my worth. Dying would take away your responsibilities to me."

"It will save you, Anakin."

Anakin's eyes trailed over the dismal panorama. His lips were clamped together, and his chest began to heave.

Breathing raggedly, the apprentice ran forward, until he was standing on the very edge of the cliff. He stared at his Master with unwavering defiance. He shook his head. "Then I don't want to be saved." And then he moved to face the gaping maw that pooled out into infinity.

Obi-Wan didn't move, but a hard swallow was visible down his pale neck. "Ani…"

Anakin refused his instinct to turn around. Let him know how it feels. "If this is what it takes to save me, from whatever threat that you alone see, then I don't want to be rescued." The darkness haunting his eyes matched that of the pit below him. "I'd rather fall."

"And lose your life? Lose everyone who loves you?"

"That didn't seem to bother you." The accusation was a low rasp.

Obi-Wan shut his eyes ."That's different."

Anakin snorted quietly, glancing over his shoulder. "Why? Because no one loves you?" He felt bitterness spread throughout his body. "Or because those who love you aren't…worth staying for?"

"You know that's not true, Anakin."

"And how would I know that?" Heat smoldered beneath his skin. "After all, why would you go on living in hell for someone you just consider a damnation anyway?"

Obi-Wan's short, sharp intake of air was masked by a gust of wind. "No…Ani…I-I don't believe that."

"But you said it. Master."

"No--"

"I didn't imagine it!" Anakin shouted. Shards of tears stood in his eyes. "Gods, even in my darkest dreams I never imagined you would think of me like that. But I guess you can't be as perfect as everyone thinks you are, you can't be the guileless martyr you want to be."

"I-I know I said it." Obi-Wan briefly looked at the ground. "But I didn't believe it. That came from my head, from the disease--not my heart."

"S-So this idea was just randomly created by your illness?" The boy half-mocked.

"Yes."

"And when you said you weren't ready to train me, that you wouldn't be able to overcome your resentment of me, was that a crazy lie too?" Fragmented memories flashed through his subconscious. Obi-Wan standing over the shattered trinket, going to bed early if only to close himself away, looking--longingly?--into the distance, and a thousand other moments that disproved his current claims. "Because I don't believe it."

"I-I was scared." Obi-Wan whispered. "I was only an apprentice myself and it was v-very difficult for me to see beyond my grief."

"Grief for what? Was it only for Qui-Gon? Or because you gave up your life to train me?"

"I didn't give up my life." Obi-Wan said breathlessly. "But training you--It changed so many things in my life. And I could never--I can never--forget that I'm training you because my Master is dead."

A touch brushed across Anakin's arm and shoulder blade. It was mild, with a tenderness he hadn't felt in so long, and he was suddenly, strongly compelled to turn around.

"I'm training you because I was too late." Obi-Wan breathed in, a dark contusion shining on his cheekbone. "After I killed…that d-damn Sith, Qui-Gon told me it was too late. I was too late. If I had been faster, quicker, better, I could've saved him, and you would have the teacher you were meant to have."

Anakin stared into the pained eyes. "If I was meant to have Qui-Gon as a Master--he would be my Master. You can't blame yourself for destiny." And then his own eyes widened, within his chest, in the deep ache of his spirit.

Destiny. Destiny that's…that's it. That's why Obi-Wan is MY Master.

And why I shouldn't save him for Qui-Gon.

I should save him because…he shouldn't go. Because I need him.

Because I can't blame HIM for destiny either.

Three Years Earlier

Anakin drew his knees against his chest, wove his arms around them and rested his chin there. The reserve was breathtaking, a flowered mountainside with a shimmering waterfall, and far-off hills of thick jade.

It was meant to be a miniature get away, a small escape from the rigors of the Temple, spread over a few days.

But the initial happiness had quickly faded for Anakin. It wasn't that the surroundings weren't beautiful, that the atmosphere wasn't clean and soothing--but his thoughts were clouding this little indulgence and he almost wished he was back under the Jedi roof, his mind regulated by schedule and training.

This freedom was allowing stray musings to distract him, to bring dark clusters to his vision where there was meant to be shining sun and purely blue skies.

He couldn't understand the gloom that settled over him, that made his feet leaden and prevented him from exploring the lush paradise.

The apprentice sat on a rocky ledge overlooking the sheet of rippling water, and with dulled eyes watched dusk transform the reserve.

"Need some company?"

Anakin glanced up and smiled. "Hi."

Obi-Wan smiled in return, then sat beside his apprentice, his legs dangling off the side with his arms splayed out behind to support him. "You weren't at evening meal."

Anakin replaced his chin. "Sorry, Master. I just wasn't hungry."

"What?" The Knight's mouth curled in a crooked grin. "I don't understand. You weren't hungry? Should I alert the closest medical facility?"

Anakin snorted, still staring at the orange-tinted horizon.

Obi-Wan sobered. He studied his student for a moment. "Somehow I don't think a lacking appetite was to blame."

There was no answer from Anakin, and Obi-Wan sat upright. The mist from the waterfall mingled with their hair, droplets sprayed onto the dirt. "And I don't think one dinner is all you've missed here."

Anakin turned his head. "Everything's great here, Master. I can sleep in, go wherever I want--"

"Hide away and brood." Obi-Wan finished for him.

Anakin darted his focus to the rocks and shrubs, so he didn't have to acknowledge the knowing look on his Master's face, the one that always had the distinct ability to burn a lasting mark on his heart. How was it that Obi-Wan possessed this innate talent for reading even the most underdeveloped passages scribed by a mind, to pay attention to every last word?

Sometimes…Anakin could admit, he was irritated by the lengths his Master could reach.

"I'm not reprimanding you, Padawan." Obi-Wan mentioned quietly. "When one is being censured, they are less likely to take in what they're being told. More often they zero in on emotion and close off their ears in favor of their hurting heart. " With two fingers, he touched Anakin's chin, until the youth lifted his head and met the Knight's clear eyes, color akin to the sapphire spectacle pouring from the mountaintop to the river below, catching a pale green hue in the waves.

Anakin would later think that maybe his Master could identify with the shifting waters, reflecting the sky, or the grassy hills--but never revealing a natural-interior-shade.

At least not when Anakin was looking.

"Firstly, you've done nothing wrong." His Master continued. "And secondly, how can we set things right if you close those ears of yours?"

Anakin gave a small smile. "What's there to set right? I'm not angry with you."

"Well, that's always a pleasure to hear. But you're obviously upset about something. Or else you'd be stuffing your face considerably right now."

The apprentice shrugged. "I--don't know. I just get this feeling every now and then. Like I shouldn't be happy."

Obi-Wan's brows fell into a troubled line.

"And I know I haven't done anything wrong. But that doesn't make it go away."

For a full minute, there was silence permeated only by the buzz of twilight insects. Then, "Close your eyes."

Anakin hesitated, but his Master's expression was one of absolute resolve, so he dutifully obeyed, trying to control his breathing as he did so.

"Now, what's the first thing you see surfacing from your thoughts?"

Anakin sifted through his surprise and reluctance, sinking into a place of great personal intimacy-and a face appeared. He wasn't shocked or dismayed by the warm brown eyes, the smooth hair swept into a bun, the sun-blasted skin that was nevertheless the most comforting touch in the Universe.

"Mom. M-My mom."

Obi-Wan's voice was barely a whisper to Anakin. "What do you feel when you see her?"

"I--I'm glad to see her…every time I see her I know I haven't forgotten her…But then I remember where she is…so far away…and still…in chains." His breaths came faster. "In chains…while I'm…f-free. Working hard all day while I'm lounging around on vacation."

The tone was more brittle with the final sentence, and Obi-Wan laid a hand on Anakin's knee. "The opportunities you've been given are the reason she can survive, Ani. Would she want you to share in the pain she endures?"

"N-No."

"Open your eyes."

Anakin slowly acquiesced, ashamed by the gloss over his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Obi-Wan gave no indication that he noticed. "I can't tell you anything that will make the pain disappear. Not forever. I can't fully relate to what you're going through and I can't go through it for you--although I wish with every fiber that I could." He paused, to breathe in, collecting air--and courage. "But I can tell you that, after my Master died, I was horrified if I ever so much as smiled. He's been gone awhile now…But that doesn't mean those emotions fade totally. There are moments when I hate myself for smiling, or laughing, or having a good time, when he can't be beside me, enjoying the mirth as well.

"But, just as you want your mother to be freed and happy, she wants the same for you." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I want you to be happy."

Anakin leaned into his outstretched arm. "It doesn't make the pain disappear." He whispered, then looked up. "But it makes everything a lot more bearable."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Maybe we can do better than that." He leaped to his feet, dragging Anakin up with him. He sprinted down the hills, then jumped gracelessly into the waters.

Anakin waited for the dripping head to surface before he, with a wild grin, shot down after him.

"You're my Master, Obi-Wan." Anakin looked around. "This place won't help you, it won't save me." He reached for Obi-Wan's hand, and he held it tightly, until his trembled. "It will destroy us both."

Obi-Wan gazed at him, his countenance wearied and his sprit as battered as his body--and then there was a fragile patch of light, spilling from the gray sky in a radiant beam, falling diagonal across his face. With a weak gasp, he pulled Anakin to him.

Anakin wrapped his arms around his Master, not caring about the injuries to either form. The pain of their relationship couldn't rival the rightness of it, the natural affection that flooded their minds.

"I'm sorry. I just--I wasn't in control." Obi-Wan apologized in an unsteady voice against Anakin's shoulder.

As the Master's knees gave way, the apprentice steadied his hold, lowering them both to the ground. "Shh. You don't have to explain anymore." Anakin touched his forehead. "I understand, Master. It wasn't you."

"'m sorry."

Anakin draped his cloak around his teacher's shivering body. "Shh. You don't have to say anything." He drew Obi-Wan's head against his chest. "Just rest. Just rest, Master."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and at the same instant the dream world became a haze.

Anakin stroked the blood-matted hair. "Everything's alright now." As he sensed Obi-Wan surrender to sleep, he watched the ledge rumble, then grow, stretching farther into the residual darkness.

If ever it was walked again, it would take far longer to step upon the edge.

And then, just when the body went lax, Anakin too, was gone.

Pink.

A strange thing to wake to. A blur of pastel in his periphery, and Anakin blinked, somewhat expecting to emerge in another dream, with floating pink clouds and a smeared gray sky…

He blinked again, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing for sane convergence--

"C'mon, Ani." A voice beckoned him from the puff of pink. "You've slept long enough."

Anakin surged to a sitting position, clarity resuming all at once in his eyes and head. "Bant?"

She sat beside him on the cot. "Relax. You did an amazing thing, Anakin."

He looked searchingly at her salmon-flushed face, then beyond to the white walls and the curtain that separated him from the rest of the room. "He's alright then?" His hands shook. "He came back okay?"

Bant cupped his cheek. "From what we can tell, he's just fine, Ani. Exhausted, but fine. How are you?"

"Pretty much under that same category." He smiled, a bit overwhelmed. "Has Master…woken up yet?"

"Not yet. It could be a while longer before he's rejuvenated enough." She dropped her eyes to her hands, then brought them to Anakin. "What did you do? To bring him back from…wherever he was?"

Anakin shrugged. "I told him what I felt."

"You don't have to answer this, if it's uncomfortable for you, but I just wanted to…What was he doing? For, gods it felt like eternity, he was in serious danger of being lost. His vitals dipped and I almost thought…" She had to swallow a sudden sob. "I thought that we did lose him."

Anakin remembered the hopelessness in his Master's face, the terrible resolve that so nearly ended his life. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't--I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway."

Bant's aura was awash with compassion. "That's alright. But I'll be here, whenever you're ready."

He entwined his fingers loosely with hers. "Thanks." Anakin glanced at the curtain and could guess what lay on the other side. "Can I see him?"

"Sure. He might not hear you, but it'll do him good to be in your presence." She patted the back of his hand. "It already has."

Anakin soaked in the warmth of her sentiment, let it fill him after the visceral void that had consumed his being in the nightmare. "He wasn't himself, Bant." He said huskily. "But then, parts of him were. It was…"

"I know. From what I saw--I know, Ani. But he won't know."

Anakin's forehead crinkled. "He won't?"

She shook her head. "Maybe a shred or two, but overall, this entire thing will never have happened to him. And since it began long before anyone started to notice the change, he's lost far more than memories of breaking out of the hospital or looking for Qui-Gon."

"Should we, I mean are we going to, tell him?"

She studied the seamless walls thoughtfully. "Like you said, Ani. He wasn't himself. He didn't act like himself and--" Bant turned to Anakin. "He did things that, in reality, he would abhor. He hurt me, he hurt you, in more than a physical sense. Unless those memories have some value, I think telling him about them would do more harm than good."

She stood. "But it's your decision. Only you know what happened." Gently, "I'll check in a little later."

Anakin muttered an absent 'good-bye', his gaze straying to the curtain.

Unless those memories have some value…

"And what if they do?" He wondered through a sigh.

For an hour, Anakin sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes trained to the slit between the curtain and the wall. Even now, with all the past turmoil and anger between them, there was no way to secure a permanent division, there was always that connection-however weak or strong.

But there were times when that unfailing link disconcerted him-- and it wasn't merely the question of privacy.

He looked at the strip of shadow, knew that his Master's light was beyond it.

What would happen when it wasn't?

Anakin rushed to his feet. No. I'm not going to think of that. He clutched a handful of hair. I have enough to think about.

Taking a moment to calm himself, he allowed his shoulders to loosen and some of the tension eased in his back. He was a breath away from the curtain and could hear the soft beeping muted by it.

We were understanding each other. The white drape stood motionless in front of him. He placed his hand against it. And now he won't know. Unless I tell him…he won't know any of it. He won't know the secrets we shared--

Or the pain. He won't know how I--how I hurt him. He won't remember the bruises.

Anakin leveled his eyes. And he doesn't need to. Bant's right. It won't do any good.

The young Jedi compressed his lips, walked through the slender parting of the curtain, all the while trying to convince himself he was doing what was necessary, shielding his Master--and himself--from unneeded heartache.

But, in a place within him he had forced into silence, he was aware that leaving Obi-Wan oblivious would help no one.

In a flourish of white, streaming with gray, he opened his eyes. Thin, creamy fingers of the atmosphere molded around his arms, delicately, pulling him.

Even if he wanted to fight the touch, it was impossible. All his energy had been expelled, he knew, and the last hints of strength had been siphoned to keeping his vision somewhat clear.

So he blinked. Then he blinked again.

He didn't know where he was. He had never experienced a place like this before. The only breaths were his own, quick and soft. The only living thing was himself--his heartbeat was solitary, and he couldn't hear the sound of another, beside him or in the distance.

Because he was sure he WOULD be able to hear it. In the unblemished silence, he was convinced he would detect even the crisp flutter of insect wings.

Warm fell across his forehead and he tried to look up.

"I knew it." The words were as tender as the cool, shifting white, as the caress of his face.

He smiled. No one was there, in tangible form--but spirits were never made of flesh.

"I knew you would make it. For awhile…you almost had me believing you couldn't…but I was forgetting who you are."

"Master…" He didn't know what had inspired that, he didn't know why either of them were together in the dreamy cloud, but he felt the rapture of hearing Qui-Gon again.

"And now you've forgotten."

"Forgotten what?" He wondered, in almost a slur.

Qui-Gon stroked his cheek. "It isn't your fault. I only wish…you could remember."

He leaned his head in the silken cushion. His eyelids were falling to the lull of the voice and the heaviness of his body. "I'm so…tired."

A wraith-like touch ghosted across his temple. "I know. I wanted to be…here….when you went back…I had to leave so soon…I wanted to say good-bye…but I see now that Anakin's taken care of it for me."

Good-bye?

An image of crouching down on the icy generator floor passed through his mind.

Good-bye.

He smiled. "Good-bye…Master…I'll see you."

"When it's time." Qui-Gon whispered, as the pale surroundings faded. "When it's time, my Padawan."

The Master watched his apprentice disappear into the grasp of reality. He knew Obi-Wan had not understood him, but it had taken more than he cared to think to return again, even in minimal form. There wasn't time now to explain, so he was forced to heed his own words, and, like Obi-Wan, he would have to wait.