A/N: Okay, so it took me a number of days, but I managed to find a way to get online. But, in the time that I could not be online, I've done some serious writing. I now have two more chapters than I did, as well as having gotten past the mental block... Can I see five reviews? I always find emails exciting and I haven't gotten any of value lately...

SpikesSpecialFriend: The trip is good so far. Finished two books. Here's a new chapter to entertain you. :) And you'll get another one Tuesday night, I'm feeling generous.
Kenobi-girl1: I'm glad you think I'm a good writer. I hope I'm accomplishing something here, but I'm not completely sure.
Knight Queen: More upset kiddies in this chapter. Tell me if I've still got it down. ;) Oklahoma is peachy.
Christina B: I'm glad you like it! After I post this, I'm going to read your stories -- you're one of the few of my readers who write JA fiction! (Well, crossed over with HP and stuff. But still.) Updates Tuesday nights, because I'm arbitrary like that. :)


Chapter: Those That Hide

As Obi-Wan stepped out into the corridor and the door shut behind him, he was presented with two choices – right or left – and the same hesitation that had allowed Maela to leave the room in the first place, the same baffling dawdling in the face of the utterly unpredictable, took hold. Direction was a basic decision, but Maela had a four minute head start on this fictional game of hide-and-seek, and Obi-Wan literally did not know which way to turn. Qui-Gon would know where to start, but Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan was injured and suddenly he couldn't search for a little girl. One direction lead towards the pleasure areas of the ship, more heavily frequented by the richer passengers especially in the evening such as now; the other towards the more pragmatic areas, like the galley and the like. But where would Maela go?

Why couldn't he think? It was a decision of left or right to go find a small child – one who wasn't nearly as cunning as any of the criminal masterminds he had spent the last half a year thwarting with his Master. He closed his eyes tightly, knowing that his face grew lines that any outsider watching would simply think that he was in pain, and in a way he was – painfully aware of his shortcomings.

Where would she go? Obi-Wan used his uninjured hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. To know where she went, he had to figure out why she left in the first place. Was she embarrassed by her outburst of emotion? Obi-Wan knew he would have been, and the best place to go if you were embarrassed was away from people. He looked to his left, towards the less populated area of the ship, and started walking that way. It wasn't the best logic, but it was some reason, some way to know where he was going.

As Obi-Wan walked down the hall, checking the various doors that led to stairwells and storage closets, he began to consider what the Council wanted from this trip, after all. Qui-Gon said that the preparations for the trip could be a test by the Council, for the Council likes to test where they can observe – but now the Council couldn't see what was going on. Good thing, too, Obi-Wan thought, checking into a darkened alcove, because a missing Initiate would be far from good for his standing before the Council.

Obi-Wan's stomach turned at such a self absorbed thought. It wouldn't matter what the Council thought of him as long as Maela and Lilia were safe. Fear was beginning to creep into his consciousness … an Initiate hiding in the Temple would not be such a big deal – they could scan the entire building if they had to, but they only did that after they had been missing for several hours. But here, in the ship, there was no safety net, and as much as the girl had been annoying and frustrating that day, he didn't want anything to happen to her.

He finally entered the dining room, the last place on the level that there were no people. At meal times, the room was buzzing with conversation and the ambient noise of plates and forks in use. Obi-Wan was surprised that empty, the large room was still surprisingly noisy – maybe it was dishwashers in the kitchen, maybe it was sounds of the engine rooms that were normally drowned out by people. He scanned the room, and found that all the chairs at all the tables were pushed in, except for one – the chair was pushed away from the round table with its full length white cloth, and Obi-Wan suspected that it would make the perfect hiding place for an eight-year-old girl who wanted to hide from something. Obi-Wan walked slowly, soundlessly, towards that unkempt table and lowered himself to the floor using his good arm – which was awkward, because it was his left arm and he wasn't used to it – to look under the small gap between the floor and the table cloth. Sure enough, in that tiny sliver, he saw the tiny booted feet of an initiate.

Obi-Wan slowly stood, and left the room to stand outside the doors, where he could sense Qui-Gon slowly wandering the halls searching for his presence in the Force. Qui-gon quickly spotted him.

"Did you find her, Padawan?" asked Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan looked at his face and noticed the slight worry and strain there as shown in his frowning brow.

Obi-Wan nodded. "She's in there, under a table. You'll know which one. I didn't disturb her." Qui-Gon put his hand on his Padawan's shoulder as a sign of thanks, but as he moved towards the doors to enter, Obi-Wan spoke again. "Master, what's going on?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "You have, of course, figured out that this chaperoning mission is more than it seems." Obi-Wan nodded. It had something to do with the Initiates as well, he was sure. "The Council is concerned for Lilia and Maela's aptitude to be Jedi. The Council believes that their greatest hope is to become friends with one another – and as you can see, it's a rocky path." Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder. "I'll discuss the details with you in the morning; right now you should go back to the suite and make sure Lilia went to sleep all right."

"Yes, Master," said Obi-Wan. He yawned, and realized that the day had been a long one for him, as well, and started down the hallway towards the suite.

Qui-Gon entered the dining room. "Maela!" he called. "Maela!" Scanning the room with the Force he saw that Maela tried to make her presence smaller, tried scrunching in on herself – he suspected physically as well as within the Force. He kneeled down next to the table and lifted the table cloth over his head, but he didn't bring his whole body into the space – he didn't want to alienate her.

"It seems I've found you, young one," he said. He was surprised to see that her breath still game in ragged gasps, despite her dried eyes. She was still upset, but was striving to hide the obvious physical indicator of tears. "Why did you need to go and hide?"

"Because," Maela croaked. She paused, took a deep breath that was made shallow by how tightly she hugged her knees to her chest, and very cautiously continued. "Because I felt bad that she felt bad."

"My, young one," he said softly, soothingly. Qui-Gon folded part of the table cloth up onto the table, so that he could see into Maela's makeshift fort, but he was outside of it. "You need to learn the names of your feelings."

"I know some," she said fiercely, and the edge of tears cut the sound of the words. "But my head hurts."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Does your head hurt from crying?"

"No, people." A tear leaked down her cheek and she rubbed it away on her knee, making it as if it had never been there at all.

A light slowly dawned on Qui-Gon, remembering the precautions he had to take when she was an infant. She was sensitive to the feelings of those who were not shielded. "Have you never been out of the Temple, young one?" He wondered if she knew what was causing the pain herself – she had identified people as the cause of it.

"Of course," she said fiercely. She felt the need to defend herself, and Qui-Gon wasn't stopping her. "Went to the Galactic Museum." She continued to try to hide herself, nestling her face into the crook of her elbow.

"Did you get a headache then too?" She simply nodded. "If you sit in my lap, I will help you block the people out." Qui-Gon could give a little bit of shielding from the emotions on board the ship. She shook her head no and hugged her knees tighter. Qui-Gon wished the little girl had given into his offer of help, but knew she had to accept it in time. He pressed on: "Can you tell me why Lilia feels bad?"

"She's afraid," she said quietly. "Nervous."

She did know the names of her feelings, Qui-Gon admitted to himself. It was probably something they had taught her early, realizing she would need the vocabulary to deal with her ability. But the words weren't second nature to her yet – she had to concentrate to use them. "And why did you feel bad?"

"Made it worse." She was mumbling, making no effort to enunciate her words. This was clearly a conversation she'd rather not be having.

"Do you ever make it better?" If anything, Qui-Gon observed, she appeared to be an honest with herself, as honest as a little girl could be, and she gave the question some thought.

"Dunno." She pushed her face into her knee, effectively muffling her words and making it even harder to understand her. She took a long, shuddering breath.

"Do people help you when you're nervous?"

"Masters."

"Are you a Master, Maela?" She said something, but he couldn't understand. "Say again?"

"No." Her tears started again. "But I want to help, Master Qui-Gon…"

He held out his arms underneath the table and this time she let herself be taken into his lap. She had admitted, finally, that she needed help and that she had done something not only wrong, but that she was sorry for. He scooted out from under the table. "How do your friends help you if you're sad?"

"Jens makes… my Master dolls … talk funny." She wiped away her tears with the back of her small hand, but more kept coming. She spoke between sobs.

"Why don't you do that?"

She drew in a shuddering breath before she answered. "But Lilia was nervous." Qui-Gon was slightly impressed that she made the distinction between remedies for different emotions.

"What would make you feel brave?"

"If Jens or a Master went with me…"

"Why don't you help Lilia by offering to stay with her when she's nervous, and not just tell her she's wrong? You should help her, not simply tell her she needs to change."

"But what about if someone is angry?" Maela sounded slightly desperate, and Qui-Gon wondered if some well meaning Master had told her that she held the key to holding anger at bay or some such nonsense without telling her how to deal with it. She was using the wrong methods now. "Anger is bad and dangerous."

"You should ask them about why they are angry. And if you have a solution, a way to help them realize they should not be angry or to stop them from hurting themselves or others, you should suggest it – but be there, as a friend, whether or not they take the suggestion."

"You're good at this, Master Qui-Gon…why didn't I think of that?"

"You're too close to the situation, Maela… you weren't seeing all the possibilities." They were quiet for a moment, and Qui-Gon stroked the girl's back in an effort to calm her before she spoke again.

"So I should show how I think I should help by trying to fix it?"

"You should be supportive of your friends, doing something for them that will help them feel better, not just tell them that they aren't allowed to be angry, or nervous, or sad." Maela nodded as if she understood.

But all was not fixed. She brought up what else was bothering her. "Lilia is mad at me now."

"Wouldn't you be upset if someone told you something and it made your emotions worse?"

"Yes…" she admitted reluctantly. "How do I fix it?"

"Well," Qui-Gon said, "tonight you sleep. Tomorrow, you apologize. And then you stay out of Lilia's way. She has to work her way past her anger, and trying too hard to make it up to her is not the way to do it, okay?" She nodded. Qui-Gon lifted the girl out of his lap and stood her on her own two feet while he returned to standing. He fixed the tablecloth and pushed in the chair, and lifted Maela into his arms. She relaxed against his shoulder, though deep, uneven breaths betrayed her less-than-calm state. "Come young one, I'll sing you a lullaby."