Sorry this is soooo late in coming, but I had internet problems. And just writer's block problems in general. Thanks to anyone who stuck around.

SharpShooter626 Oh, you'll find out what happens to Dark Obi-Wan. It'll just take awhile. Thank you for reading!

Cassandra Thanks!

Athena Yes, sleep is good. Maybe if it wasn't so good, I'd write more.

Kynstar Ooh, yes, Palpy is most definitely evil..

SithLordDarthRevan Thank you!

Ewan's girl Obi-Wan has some plans for the Temple. Now, if only I could figure out what those plans were…

O

Bruck sat at the edge of the extravagantly large and expensively draped bed, surrounded by soft sleep clothes, and fingered the most recent addition to his Padawan braid. The colored beads stood out as bright markers against the snow-paleness of his hair, vibrant reminders of the various lessons and hardships during his apprenticeship to Qui-Gon Jinn.

That was what life was, he reckoned. Long strips of time, ordinary and without hue, occasionally interrupted by a burst of the extraordinary. Or, at the very least, the unordinary.

It was those moments that separated the strong from the weak, the worthy from the worthless.

Naboo was a test of truth. Beneath the cerulean skies and curls of pearly cloud, darkness was uncoiling, reaching to enclose them all. But for each, it was a different shadow that threatened to fall.

Bruck was aware of the shroud at his shoulders that whispered of bygone, but never forgotten, years. The resurgence of those memories had the potential to undo him. The knowledge was branded in his brain, that he had been second choice. Second best? No, he knew that wasn't so. At the Temple, dreaded cut-off dates looming, brash anger was a beast feeding from his insecurity, and oh how it had grown from one day to the next. Obi-Wan had been good, so good that he had the trembling, desperate compulsion to fight that goodness, to conquer and obliterate what could stand in the way of his own future. The nickname that haunted the other boy as he walked the halls was another tool Bruck employed, a sturdy step for him to ascend to the platform where all Jedi stood.

But his tricks and his rage had turned inward. He became sour and hateful to his core, while Obi-Wan gained the much sought-after status of Padawan Learner to the great Master Jinn. That had been the final severance from any sense of Jedi placidity. He gave in to his fury, lent his hand to the cause of Darkness…until the day he learned of Oafy's betrayal.

His reprieve.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was gone from the Order, and Bruck took his place. For over a decade, there was barely a word uttered of the person who previously stood at Qui-Gon's side.

Now, it felt as though every spoken syllable was dedicated to the relic of his pre-Padawan life. His Master was absorbed in the past. And it wasn't the first time.

Bruck had thought those curtains closed, for both of them. But Obi-Wan had catapulted them through, into the pall.

He rubbed the warm, yellow-washed bead between his fingers, and felt a paralyzing tingle rush like splintered ice from his toes to his head. Abruptly, he stood, braid whipping behind him, and entered his Master's adjoining quarters.

Qui-Gon was sitting on the side of the bed, head sunk into his hands.

The sight pierced Bruck's heart, and he swallowed a boulder before he spoke. "Are you alright, Master?"

The man straightened, wiping his hands on his leggings, and smiled. "Fine, Padawan. Just a bit tired after today."

An uneasy silence followed.

"Are you anxious to return to Coruscant?" The apprentice wondered abruptly, for no other reason than to hold the attention of his instructor.

The frail light lent luminescence to the sphere of Qui-Gon's gaze, but had also washed away much of the color. The Force burned in him even now, in this darkest of hours, though he had not been completely spared from the turmoil. He was grace with rough edges. "I'm anxious to leave here." He answered when he had gathered enough energy to do so, "And I miss home. Perhaps it's all that's happened, but I feel a bit like a fish caught in the sand, the Temple a far-off ocean."

"We've all lost our center here." Bruck pointed out.

Qui-Gon nodded his agreement absently. "I just…" He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "I don't understand."

Bruck rested his hand on a broad shoulder. He wasn't at all accustomed to the position of comforter. His Master was a venerable, incredibly strong man, and usually reserved in matters of the heart. At first, he fumbled for consoling words. What was there to say? "He's always had the potential for darkness, Master. Why do you think no one wanted to train him?" Immediately, he regretted the observation, for in the end, someone had wanted to train Obi-Wan Kenobi as a Jedi. "Sometimes even the best of instructors can't steer a student down the right path." The young Padawan glanced away. "Besides, it's not like he didn't know what he was doing back then. He made his own decisions and he knew the impact they could have. He did what he wanted anyway."

"I did sense darkness." Qui-Gon murmured, staring at the dead space in front of him, "But it wasn't evil. It was the darkness of anger and insecurity. I thought he would be able to overcome it."

"Anger and insecurity can ripen into evil." Bruck said with a private tingle of knowing.

Qui-Gon gusted a breath and tried unsuccessfully to massage the crick out of his neck. "When he saw me, when he first woke in the hospital, he said I looked small."

The fury was swelled and teeming within Bruck at the ridiculous statement, but he was able to release most of it into the atmosphere, and his voice was even. "Something or someone's probably caused him to think he' s much more than he really is. Or he's just as unsure as he ever was and is trying to conceal that."

"He wasn't unsure of himself in the Palace."

Bruck couldn't counter that, and crossed his arms, looking at the floor with a frown.

"And neither were you, Padawan."

When he looked up, his Master was smiling, and despite the grim situation, Bruck couldn't help but smile himself. "Thank you, Master."

"Thank you, Padawan. You saved my life. I think he would have killed me." Qui-Gon compressed his lips as this last acknowledgement was purged from him.

Again, Bruck gripped his shoulder. "No, Master. It would have been the other way around.

"He is small and worthless."

Qui-Gon looked up at him. "Tread carefully, my Padawan. You walk the line of anger, and you mustn't. For, as you know, that line intersects with another. I would not want you to suffer those consequences. It does…such terrible things to the mind and the heart. You must always preserve your goodness. Especially in these circumstances, when Dark is all around us. You must be strong. You must not hate."

Bruck took a step backward, frowning. "But he tried to…Master, how can I ignore what he's done? What he is?"

"You don't have to ignore it. But, for your sake, you cannot hate him, Padawan."

Bruck inhaled sharply. "But you can?"

Qui-Gon's features were strained, his voice equally taut. "I don't hate Obi-Wan."

"You could've fooled me."

"Enough," The Master huffed, "I don't want to hear anymore of this. Not tonight. You need your sleep and so do I." He stood and began to pull down the thick duvet, "I'll see you in the morning."

Bruck stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and stalked into his quarters.

O

Due to Obi-Wan's condition, Doctor Marlwen warned that his last day of in-hospital recuperation would need to be calm and uneventful. So of course, the Jedi were banned from the room, and a pale semblance of peace took rule.

Velis had grown irritated that the would-be killer of the Queen was absorbing so much attention from not only the hospital, but from he himself. There were other patients to attend to, patients in more dire circumstance.

But Kenobi was on his rounds, and there was no mistaking his duty. Until tomorrow morning, he had to ensure the man's health. After that…it was in Jedi hands.

Perhaps my work will come to nothing, He pondered as he entered the heavily guarded room, And the Jedi will serve their own justice.

The walls were soft with the echoing spill of dawn's incandescence. The glow fit gently on Kenobi's features. It was in these rare moments that this ancient enemy of the Jedi looked more like a man still on the final, frail fringes of childhood.

An advantage that Kenobi probably abused on those with tender hearts, who could be misled be a pair of young eyes and a charming smile.

But there was another face. The true face. Marlwen had seen it often enough to know. Perhaps Obi-Wan Kenobi could masquerade for a short while, but eventually the guise would slip. A snake could only coil beneath a stone for so long before its hunger-its nature-drove it into the blinding daylight again.

"I was hoping the morning would not find you conscious," Marlwen commented, crossing his arms, "With such a trying journey ahead of you, you need the sleep."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Then what would I do on the journey?"

The doctor chuckled. "Oh, but I would think you'd be a little too on-edge for sleep then."

"And why would that be?"

Marlwen could almost admire the cool sheen of rebellion over that gaze. "I'm not sure. But I, for one, would be concerned. The Jedi aren't pleased with you."

"The Jedi are scarcely pleased with anything, save themselves." A black eyebrow rose slightly, with open amusement. "You think they'll massacre me between here and Coruscant?"

Velis shrugged. "I've never thought much of anything when it comes to Jedi. But I've met a few since your arrival here." He looked at Kenobi with his own version of dark mirth, "And if you plan on doing much sleeping, I'd do it with one eye open."

"I'll keep that in mind." Sarcasm bled from the cultured tone.

Marlwen studied the face, a living contrast of porcelain-white and shadow. He detested the man, and needed very much to move on to the next room, but… "Something's been bugging me."

"Do tell."

Marlwen walked a few steps closer. He debated whether he should even delve, but his curiosity proved more powerful than he realized. "What exactly did Palpatine want to talk to you about?"

Kenobi sighed. "Only the more lovely aspects of the imprisonment he assures me I will be receiving."

"And he needed to do that in private?"

"It wouldn't serve him well to reveal a less palatable character trait with an audience. Especially now that he is Chancellor."

Marlwen could barely contain his grin. "How pleasant for you. Somehow I don't see your prosecution proceeding fairly. Not with one of your greatest…shall we say 'adversaries' in that position in the Senate."

"No, it doesn't bode well, does it?"

Marlwen shook his head with an incredulous laugh. "And naturally, you don't appear cowed whatsoever."

"I assure you, I'd be trembling in my boots, if they hadn't been taken from me."

"Well, you broke the number one rule of the galaxy," Marlwen's smile was subtle, "Don't anger the ruler of the Republic. Palpatine won't leave you unscathed by this, to say the least."

Kenobi glanced away, for no more than a heartbeat. "Yes," He agreed quietly, "It seems that way."

O

Padme stood at the high window overlooking the Palace courtyard, hands clasped in front of her. The bright stream of the Naboo sun radiated against her face. It was a welcome feeling. Just days before, this view would have ruined by the neon cut of laser fire and cloud of brutal oppression. The ghosts were still lingering, but freedom had been restored. The healing would come, with time. She was sure of it.

A collection of footsteps resounded in the spacious wing and she turned, face breaking into a smile.

Three Jedi approached her: Master, apprentice and brand new initiate. They favored her with a bow, and Qui-Gon stepped forward. The weariness hinted around his eyes, but he looked more rested than he had since the revelation of the Sith.

"Recovery is evident all around, Your Highness. The Naboo are strong people."

"It's their strength that will see Naboo through the aftermath." She looked down, then towards the window. But the moisture welling in her eyes was evident, despite her attempts at concealment. "And it was your strength that saw us through the invasion. Thank you, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon gave a second, deeper bow. "It was but my duty, Your Highness."

Padme nodded, looking to Bruck, "And thank you, Padawan Chun. You…You stopped him. Naboo will forever be indebted to you both."

Bruck imitated his Master's example and bent before the sovereign. "You're welcome, Your Highness."

And then there was only Anakin left, standing between the taller Jedi, eyes wide with their innocent expectation.

Padme laid her hands on his shoulders. "And thanks to you, Ani. Your piloting skills saved us all. But more than that, you were my friend, when you had no idea I was queen." She ruffled his hair. "I won't forget that."

Anakin was less delicate in hiding his emotion. He swept his forearm across his watering eyes. "I won't forget you either." Never.

Then the ruler of Naboo took a step away from them, folding her hands again. "May the Force be with you," She declared, chestnut eyes earnest. They responded in kind and began to turn. On instinct, she called: "My mother always says that the only way to endure Fate is to face it with grace."

"We will remember," Qui-Gon assured her, before they took leave from the grand Palace for the last time.

She watched them go.

O