Big thanks to Xeana for her help with this one.

Soundlessly like a ghost crept Obi-Wan Kenobi down the narrow passageway. Faint lights and steady muted hum of starship's engines created the feeling of deep slumber, a realm of dreams where reality was non-existent. The artificial night was at its height. The ship drowned in sleep, save for several persons. At the door to the cabin where Qui-Gon resided for the time being Obi-Wan paused as if listening. Listening to the sounds, to his own inner voice, trying vainly to listen to the Force's gentle murmur – after a lifelong habit, perhaps. Hesitation suddenly overtook him, eating away at his determination. Should he be bothering Qui-Gon at this late an hour? Would it be… correct?

Afraid, are you?

He had to admit that he was. Afraid to show he was vulnerable. Afraid to talk to Qui-Gon – something that he had barely ever felt. That was something he knew he shouldn't feel. But… No longer was he the young Obi-Wan the Master saw in him, nor the old Obi-Wan who had died on the Death Star.

A total stranger even to himself.

Right now such thinking is not going to take me anywhere, he chastised himself.

Obi-Wan knocked, resolutely banishing his fear to the farthest corner of his mind.

"Enter."

Taking a deep breath as though facing a reckless dive he opened the door and stepped through. The Master was seated on the carpeted floor in a meditative posture. Brown, threaded with silver strands, hair lay over the shoulders. Leonine features relaxed, Qui-Gon was the very picture of serenity, the embodiment of Jedi. The image was so painfully familiar that Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat. Would he ever get used to being in the past, to seeing Qui-Gon alive? Or would he always feel that this fragile delusion could shatter any moment, leaving him in the suffocating heat of Tatooine?

The Jedi Master's eyes opened watching the former Padawan for a second.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?" The voice was full of gentle concern.

"I need your help."

"Anything. Any time. You should know it by now." A slight, vaguely teasing smile.

Obi-Wan returned a tight smile. Qui-Gon gestured for the younger man to sit across from him, but Obi-Wan moved to sit on a low cot instead. Surprise flickered across his face, but Qui-Gon didn't comment. Gracefully he rose – though not so gracefully as he would a couple of years before, Obi-Wan noted with a tinge of bitterness. He knew how it felt, he could sympathize. Still, he, Obi-Wan, had regained his youth while Qui-Gon would not.

Had it been he, Obi-Wan reflected, he undoubtedly would have used his chance better than I did.

Unaware of his counterpart's musings, the older man lowered himself next to Obi-Wan and looked him in the eye.

"How can I help, Little One?"

Wrought out of his thoughts, Obi-Wan cringed inwardly, wondering why he felt so opposed to being called that. Hadn't he tried uncountable times to remember the sound of this words coming from Qui-Gon? Hadn't he missed it?

So why?

Probably, reasoned the wise and cynical part of him, this title was now too much in contrast with his own perception of himself. Provided, he couldn't even frame that perception. But he never voiced the thought.

"Now that I don't have access to the Force anymore," he started calmly instead, "my mind has no shields whatsoever. This is dangerous. I need some protection for my thoughts and, more importantly, my memories." He paused, gauging the other man's reaction. The Jedi didn't seem convinced. "Qui-Gon, I know too much. If even Anakin – untrained as he is, with his indigested connection to the Force – is able to read me like an open book, the whole Temple will be aware as soon as I set my foot on Coruscant."

"I understand." Was it pity in those tender yet keen eyes? "But I don't see how I can be of any help." Or was it powerlessness – the trait so unanticipated in the rogue Jedi Master? "I never heard of a non-Force-sensitive to have the shields strong enough to stop a Force-user. Let alone of someone to be able to build such shields." Hopelessness, that's what it was, Obi-Wan concluded.

"I have."

Qui-Gon straightened and looked at him in disbelief. Obi-Wan could imagine him thinking: here sits my Padawan, the one I raised, the one I watched grow from an angry but kind-hearted boy to a lanky, insecure youth to a strong and capable young man. I spent half his life beside him. So how could he know what I never even heard about?

"I'm as old as you are," reminded Obi-Wan quietly. And at that moment he acutely felt the weight of those years resting on his shoulders – as well as the rift those words widened between them. The rift he had hoped to close up.

Something imperceptible shifted in the Master's countenance, a veil of coldness and misunderstanding shrouded it. Seeing this, Obi-Wan sighed inwardly.

"Very well, tell me then."

And Obi-Wan related all he knew. When he was done, Qui-Gon leaned back and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"This is something I have never heard about, which means nothing, of course. Still, it sounds like a dangerous thing to do. Mind is not a plaything to trifle with."

"In any case, it is my mind we are going to 'trifle' with. I take all responsibility upon myself."

Qui-Gon mumbled something about reckless padawans thinking too much of themselves, and Obi-Wan smirked despite himself.

"Padawans do grow up to be responsible." Do they? he mentally asked himself. "Sometimes."

Qui-Gon barked a short laugh, but there was still heaviness in his eyes.

"Well, then, if you don't mind, let us begin." Obi-Wan found he had to struggle to keep his voice even as sudden hesitance born of deep-buried fear engulfed him. True, he had heard of this procedure – or rather read about it during one of those rare and treasured occasions he had some time for himself which he could afford spend shuffling though the Temple Archives, reading at random. He hadn't given much thought to it then, but it rooted in his memory. And now it resurfaced, probably serving as a proof that nothing happened by coincidence.

But reading of such a procedure being carried out and actually testing it on his own mind were very different things. And that was where his fear originated. He would be forced to let someone – although a trusted someone – trusted? – yes, trusted! – tamper with his mind. And Force knows what it could result with. For some time he would be totally exposed and vulnerable, naked. Helpless. He couldn't remember feeling this helpless for over three decades. Or had he ever been? Because even the Council couldn't – or didn't – reach into the deepest recesses of one's mind. Considering he hadn't faced the Jedi Council for two decades.

Caught between two fears choose the least.

He looked at Qui-Gon, barely managing to cover a surge of suspicion. The Master was patiently waiting for him to gain composure and confidence.

Obi-Wan averted his eyes in shame.

When will you stop suspecting everyone to spy on you? he mentally berated himself. Have you become so used to living in your shell that you can't leave it even seeing an ocean before you?

Fear is the path to the Darkside, the saying of the wizened old Master came to him for no reason at all. Fear leads to anger or makes you weak, incapable. He needed neither. He could afford neither.

"We better start before I lose my nerve." He gave a faint smile.

Qui-Gon nodded curtly and settled for a short meditation to find his center.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and waited for the intrusion into his mind. It should be familiar sensation, he tried to persuade himself. It didn't matter if he was Force-sensitive or not, did it? It had to feel the same way. He had experienced it before…

Yet when it came it was far too different from what he had imagined. Things like this had always been like a soft pressure edging on dumb firmness on the inner side of his scull. Usually when and if the pressure increased it turned into dull numbing ache, and never more. But all those previous times the intrusions had been buffeted by Obi-Wan's shields – more or less solid.

This time his mind was absolutely, ultimately uncovered, had not even a minor defence. And through this openness the intrusion came sharp as a vibro-blade against tender skin. Unexpected as a lightning. Obi-Wan inhaled in short fitful gasps in a desperate attempt to gather some of this viscous air into burning lungs lest he suffocate. Air felt like hot emery against his throat.

The alien presence cut deeper into his brain, eliciting bursts of pain, which was not physical but no less real for that. He gasped again, frenziedly digging his fingers into something beneath him, breaking nails and tearing flesh to blood. He was barely restraining himself from fighting with all his power – however scarce it might be – mentally and physically.

He should not! He should let it happen. He – needed – the – shields. Whatever it takes to build them.

Abruptly all sensations of body disappeared, awareness focussed in an efflux of the burning pain. There was nothing in the entire universe apart from pain.

There had never been.

There would never be.

Time stopped its endless run to hang him in the void of suffering.

He was but a writhing bacteria with no sense or mind. There were no thoughts left in him, only primitive, basic feelings. Howling pain. Mindless aggression.

Then abruptly it all ended, leaving him in grey mist. Slowly, gradually returned the sense of body, although somewhat hazy, dulled… misplaced. He was floating in milk, he decided blurrily. Or could it be cotton?

A low rumbling but comforting sound reached his ears, stubbornly crept into consciousness. It was lulling and demanding attention at the same time, insistent. With an effort Obi-Wan cracked one eye open. Swarming dots and obscure spots filled his vision, and he closed the eye again, fighting dizziness.

"You're awake – finally."

He now recognized the voice. "Qui-Gon." He coughed.

"You even talk! Now, that's a miracle. And here I thought I was going to have to drag you to the healers." The tone was forcibly light. Still, an undercurrent of strain was obvious, speaking volumes to Obi-Wan.

"Am I not the one supposed to possess that kind of humour?" Obi-Wan asked sarcastically, licking dry lips.

He blinked, and the Master's face eventually swam into focus. It was a happy face. And was it a shimmer of hope in those crystal-blue eyes? Hope for what? Obi-Wan propelled himself up on his elbows.

"Well, seeing that you were out, I assumed the duty." Qui-Gon smiled into his moustache.

The younger man snorted and attempted to sit up. He managed to do so only with Qui-Gon's help.

"So, now I demand you return my duty, since I'm not 'out' anymore. I think." The last two words came out unbidden, unpredicted. They reminded of so much… Obi-Wan laughed at them, noting from the corner of his eye that Qui-Gon didn't share his amusement. No surprise, he couldn't have gotten used to Anakin saying them all the time like Obi-Wan had. Still, the younger man could not stop. It was too funny he had said those exact words. His laughter escalated, assuming hysterical notches. Qui-Gon's face darkened. Abruptly Obi-Wan chocked on his laugh and fell silent, wiping moisture from his eyes.

"Sorry."

"You should rest," said Qui-Gon simply.

"Yes, you're right. But before that I need to talk to you. Concerning Anakin. You are going to train him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I will do my best to persuade the Council, and if they don't agree, I will quit the Order to train Anakin on my own. He must be trained." Qui-Gon replied with the force of conviction behind his words.

"You will be a good Master for him. Probably the best," said Obi-Wan, earning a surprised glance. And certainly much better than I could ever be.

"You've changed your mind about him." It wasn't a question. Qui-Gon was as apt in catching the tiniest nuances of the younger man's intonation as ever.

"I had much time to think." Obi-Wan turned a wistful gaze outside the viewport, as though seeing the endless vastness of Tatooine desert shadowing stars.

"And you don't think he's dangerous anymore."

"No, he is not." Obi-Wan thought he glimpsed a tiny smile of triumph on the reflection of the other man's face, but it was gone almost before it appeared. "It is the power he harbours that is dangerous."

"All the more it is the Jedi duty to teach him control of it. Besides, we cannot send him away now that we have discovered him. The wheels have turned, and it is not in our power to stop them."

 "You should explain it to Yoda. The Council will most likely agree with you. After all, they did allow me to train Anakin, why shouldn't they give their permission to you? But Yoda will argue."

Qui-Gon's eyes became splints as he regarded his former Padawan. "You have issues with him?"

Obi-Wan's gaze stayed fixed somewhere in the infinity of space. He seemed to be oblivious to Qui-Gon's intense stare.

"No, not as much as an 'issue'. I respect him and his wisdom and his age. But I had an opportunity – which I treasure and despise at the same time – to look at his methods, embodied in the Order, from an extensively different point of view. There are many discrepancies in the Order, many things that need changes. Yet those changes Yoda would never allow."

"Which would be?"

"Humanity. For instance, why are you considered a rogue? Because you have more humanity than most."

Qui-Gon had to fight a rising chill at the pit of his stomach as the feeling that he was talking to a complete stranger settled in. Where was his Padawan – the one who always insisted on following the rules, the one who kept his wayward Master from executing the wildest of his escapades? Who was this young man, talking things Obi-Wan would rather die than say?

"And by humanity you imply emotions, attachments? All those 'paths' to the Darkside?"

Obi-Wan exploded. "Darkside?! Oh, yes. Desire for freedom leads to the Darkside. So let's take away freedom! Emotions lead to the Darkside, so let's purge them! Let's become droids: unfeeling, emotionless, with no desires, obedient." As abruptly as it came, his anger evaporated. Obi-Wan turned away, "I'm sorry."

"What we need is balance," Qui-Gon said quietly, soothingly yet firmly.

Involuntarily Obi-Wan's thoughts jumped to Anakin and the prophecy of the Chosen One. "Balance, eh? The balance Force implies might turn out way too different from the balance Jedi crave."

A sudden, sharp like a stab of a needle thought brought him upright and tense. Eyes flashed at Qui-Gon.

"You must not take Anakin."

"Excuse me?" Qui-Gon's brows flew up in bafflement at the abruptness and inconsistency of Obi-Wan's statement.

"You must not become Anakin's Master," Obi-Wan repeated stubbornly, but his eyes were already clouded with thought. He was calculating, gauging. What if he was wrong? Could he be wrong?

"Would you, please, explain yourself?" Qui-Gon was worried once again. And now, with the shields unwaveringly protecting Obi-Wan's mind – the shields he, Qui-Gon, had build with his own hands, so to say – he could no longer take even a barest glimpse at what was going on in that ginger-haired head.

"I can't. Not now. I need to think it all over. There are possibilities…" Obi-Wan paused, then murmured just above a whisper, "And it would have been much easier to look through them had I still had the Force."

Qui-Gon shook his head trying his best to eliminate the thought of bringing Obi-Wan in for a mind-healer examination. Obi-Wan stood and turned to leave.

"Wait..." Qui-Gon called out. The younger man lingered at the door, turning a bit. Looking at his profile the Master thought that he would never be able to keep this young man – the former child – close. Obi-Wan was walking away, away from this room and from Qui-Gon's life. He could feel it. "You can tell me," he continued as if to justify his call. Obi-Wan hung his head. "When you are ready," Qui-Gon added, feel as though something of incredible importance was slipping past him, and he was blind to see it.