A/N: Yes, it's been too long. Yes, it won't take this long again. Yes, I've updated. :D

XIII

Obi-Wan flinched. No, no, no. Not that. Not that.

Qui-Gon could sense his discomfort—not only from the way the Force swirled around him, uncertainly…but also from the way the padawan's eye-brows knit together and his eyes closed, as though in pain. He extended his senses, determining again that the younger Jedi was not injured—confirming that Obi-wan was in no great physical pain.

Obi-Wan felt the probe, and in some obscure way, felt re-assured. In one way, it made things easier to explain…in another way, however, he had never felt the weight of a confession—of sorts—quite so much.

Intermittent flashes of lightning lit up the Gardens every now and then, throwing the foliage into sharp relief. Rain had begun its heavy descent moments ago spattering in thick drops all over the ground—the force of the wind had thrown some moisture into the corridor, too. Through it all, he could sense Qui-Gon sitting beside him quietly, looking out into the rain, ankles crossed, and one hand in his lap while the other covered his own.

Rarely did his master find such moments of peace—such things were luxuries not granted to Jedi, and they were taught to accept refreshment whenever they could. Qui-Gon had gone through his own share of difficulties the past month…and now, when he might be expected to acquire some rest, he would be ruining it. And there would be the inevitable repercussions to what he would have to say…

I have put it off long enough. I cannot do so, anymore.

Resolutely, he began. "The mission to Calai…that was when it started."

To his left, he heard Qui-Gon draw a deep breath, and felt the hand that had held his, removed. "Proceed."

He bit his lip, trying to arrange his jumbled recollections in some order, and to keep away the inclination to lose himself in them. "I…was not in favour of your going alone, master."

"I was aware of it, padawan. You made it a point to tell me."

Obi-Wan lowered his head. "I always felt it too dangerous for a lone Jedi to handle—"

Qui-Gon raised his eye-brows, but did not comment.

Obi-Wan continued. "As your padawan, I knew it to be my duty to come with you."

"The Council forbade it, Obi-Wan. And they had their reasons."

Obi-Wan bit his lip. "Forgive me for saying so…but I could not agree with it."

"The Calains are contemptuous beings, padawan—this I've already explained. They have little respect even for the Jedi, and only agreed to the Senate's offers of reconciliation, because it affected their trade agreements. Theirs is a strictly hierarchical society, and the Council was of the opinion that your age would not aid us there. Instead, they thought it pertinent to send me."

"Alone." Obi-Wan's voice grew slightly sharp. "There had already been three assassination attempts on various members of the planet's negotiation party, master—one of whom was eventually killed."

Qui-Gon's voice was mild. "It isn't as though I haven't faced attempts on my life before this, padawan."

"True." Obi-Wan risked a look at the still profile beside him. "And I have been with you on each mission that involved such a situation, since…" he paused. "Can you deny that I—that I did my best in averting danger whenever possible?"

"No, young one," Qui-Gon's voice had grown softer. "I cannot deny it—nor will I deny the fact that your presence was a reassurance, at such times."

"Why then, and not now?"

"I can only offer you the Council's own explanation—it would have served no purpose. We have been on many missions where there were attempts on lives after we entered the negotiation phase—and the Force has been merciful in averting disaster of a large magnitude…here was a situation in which it had crossed the danger mark. My presence was what might be called a last-ditch effort at averting what was already a crisis situation…" his voice trailed away.

Obi-Wan swallowed, eyes glittering as he stared through the rain-covered horizon. "In other words, you were fully prepared for failure—and for death, when you set out."

"We are prepared for death whenever it should happen to overtake us, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's tone was blunt. "To others, it is a distant happening—to us, it is a way of life."

"In that case, master," Obi-Wan's voice was even. "Shouldn't you have prepared me further by insisting that the Council let me accompany you?"

Lightning flicked over the hills once more, and thunder cracked across the skies—but Obi-Wan barely heard it.

"That is the Jedi way, yes." Qui-Gon's voice was very low. "Despite my reputation, however, I do follow the Council's dictates, padawan. They insisted that your presence would not aid mediations, and I accepted."

"Because I would be a hindrance."

"Because if the worst came to worst, then I would be the only one lost…and not you."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and released a shallow breath. "They say that a Jedi must be prepared to join the Force at any time—but I sometimes think it's worse…when one waits." He threw a look at Qui-Gon from underneath his lashes. "It is one thing to be prepared to join the Force, master. It is another to know that it will almost certainly befall…befall a Jedi going into the field." He paused. "It's even worse when one is forced to stay at the Temple, knowing…that one could have helped."

"You did help. By obeying me, and by staying at the Temple." The master turned to the apprentice. "I was guaranteed your safety—which I would not have been, had you accompanied me. It was a great reassurance, young one."

The tone was non-committal, but Obi-Wan was attuned to all the nuances his master's voice could hold…and he did not miss the emotion that lay hidden.

He blinked. "And yet, master…knowing what I did about the Force, and about the Code—if there are such things as sith-hells, as old legends say there are—then I lived through every one of them, until you returned."

"But I did return, Obi-Wan. That was what mattered, after all." Qui-Gon had leant back, his eyes closed. His hand sought out Obi-Wan's and held it in a warm clasp. "Do not think I was unaware of your conflict. It has been more than five years since I was sent on a mission without you—though you have been sent on a few, in that time." He opened his eyes briefly. "I believe you now have an idea about what it must be like, to know that one is in the field…alone."

"None of the missions I went on were doomed to spectacular disaster, master."

"But the possibility existed, padawan. As it did, for me—except that in this case, the odds of it occurring were considerably greater. One must learn to accept it, after all."

"It is not easy."

"It has never been, and it never will be." Qui-Gon stared at some point on the Scaltian horizon, his eyes focussing on something among the stars that should have been twinkling, beyond the clouds. "The Council does not insist on an emotionless state for nothing, padawan. Sometimes, it appears that it is easier, that way. But appearances are, in my experience, largely deceptive." He looked down at the stone floor, finally. "It is a hard life, Obi-Wan. In the beginning, it is chosen for us—but later, we are given the liberty of making a conscious decision to abide by it. Our rewards are rich, padawan…but the price we pay for such rewards are high. Too high. We do what we do, because we choose to make a difference…and oftentimes, such difference as we choose to bring about is the result of sacrifice." He turned to the padawan, and tilted a dimpled chin. "It would serve us well, if we were heartless…unfortunately, we require a heart to accomplish what we must. What is required, therefore, is a heart that is soft enough to melt with compassion—yet is hard as a rock when it comes to duty. That, young one, is why some Jedi are ordinary, many are good…but only a few are destined for greatness."

Obi-Wan smiled. "You are one of those."

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling in turn. "I am yet to achieve the perfection that is insisted upon, for a true Jedi, I think. I prefer to feel and not think, and many of my ideals are questionable. That is what the Council feels, anyway. Even you, my padawan," he chuckled, "even you have found my penchant for pathetic life-forms…aggravating."

Obi-Wan's lips twisted in a broader smile. "You know the inevitable conclusion—it nearly always ends with my championing your lost causes."

"Then you will know why I left you behind, when I went to Calai—I wished to leave behind someone who would carry on the tradition." He searched the gloom, trying to look into blue-green eyes. "The galaxy is full of what are perceived and given up as lost causes, padawan, while in reality, they are not—and very few to champion them. I know of none better than you, to achieve success with them."

Obi-Wan appeared stunned. "I…know little of such things. I'm ill-qualified."

"In time, you will know enough."

Silence reigned for a few moments as rain spattered steadily ahead of them.

Obi-Wan's mind felt strangely heavy, trying to understand the import of what he heard, with what he knew he must tell his master. He cleared his throat, and the sound seemed to focus Qui-Gon's attention back to him.

"Perhaps we shall relegate lost causes to the background, for the time being," he spoke, "and discuss what happened after I left for Calai, Obi-Wan."

"Yes."

"I shall aid you, if I may. T'shar found out what you were feeling. Correct?"

Obi-Wan gave a deep sigh, and nodded. Oh, she had found out. "Yes. I was angry…forgive me." he paused, looking at Qui-Gon's face almost involuntarily. The master's eyes were distant. "And I was worried. I asked to see Master Windu about—about whether I could not join you in Calai."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Did you actually talk to Master Windu about this?"

"I apologize, master—I was clearly stepping out of bounds…but I could not help asking."

After a pause, Qui-Gon spoke. "Continue."

"He refused, citing the same reasons that you had given…and that was when he told me that I would have to accompany Archivist T'shar to Chandren. I knew that I had been told to assist her, of course, but I'd no idea it might be off-planet."

"And…?"

"Master Windu called T'shar for a briefing as he concluded his session with me—I'm afraid I had had trouble shielding well." A wave of mortification radiated from Obi-Wan; Qui-Gon sensed the padawan recognize it and attempt to dispel it.

"Was Master Windu displeased?" he asked.

Obi-Wan knit his brows, recalling the incident. "He did warn me to be mindful of my feelings—but he did not appear particularly displeased. He set me two hours of meditation in addition to my normal regimen—and he asked T'shar to oversee it, so to speak, since we would be working together for a while."

"Did he ask her to guide you into meditation?"

"No. Only that she must help, if I needed it—otherwise, I must be left to do it myself."

"I see."

"…and I aided him to the best of my ability. While in the Temple, Master Jinn, every knight may be seen as a teacher of a padawan—your apprentice stood in need of guidance, and I gave it."

Qui-Gon pursed his lips. "In other words, you meditated together most of the time?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan paused. "I'm afraid I didn't find the sessions fruitful…" he shook his head. "T'shar was not very pleased." He stopped and looked at Qui-Gon, trying to gauge the master's mood, and wondering if he would not be over-stepping unseen boundaries that existed regarding regulations. "I have sometimes thought…"

"That she tried to influence your thought processes?"

Obi-Wan gave a gentle sigh of relief. "She would not let me talk," he spoke, feeling a slight spike of irritation. "I—I'm not sure about influence, however. Surely I would have felt something as blatant as that?"

"Doubtless. In any case, I hardly think she went that far…proceed. What next?"

"There is nothing much to say. I worked on the scrolls, and we spent the weeks alternating between research and meditation and her lessons on the Code. I'm afraid…" Obi-Wan paused. "I'm afraid she did not appreciate my arguments against her theories about it."

"Only to be expected. And yet, padawan…" Qui-Gon looked up, from inspecting his hands. "…there is something else, isn't there?"

It was the padawan's turn to stare away into the still-flashing night sky. "She sensed my guilt, master."

"About your anger. Your worry. And your guilt in allowing them to surface, against all proportion."

The words came out in a rush. "I could not stop worrying…if you knew—" he stopped, trying for a measure of self-control. "There were a few days when I was left in the Temple, and before we left for Chandren…and reports kept coming in from Calai, about how desperate the situation was. I did release my emotions into the Force…but it—did not seem enough. I'm afraid T'shar more than sensed it. She was right to take me to task—a senior padawan ought not to feel so. I cannot survive as a knight if I am to allow such worries to interrupt my—"

"Proceed, please. What else?"

Obi-Wan looked for a while at Qui-Gon's profile, his heart sinking. He spent a moment in controlling what seemed to him to be rather laboured breathing. "She…offered to help me release my fears into the Force."

"And did she?"

"She gave me all the assistance she could…" Obi-Wan paused, feeling a familiar thread of confusion run through his mind. "I expect I let my emotions gain over me, for I couldn't see that they did me any good. T'shar saw my efforts—and offered to explain the Jedi philosophy to me…" he stopped. "And that, I think, is where it all started." He made no effort to elaborate what 'it' might be—there was no necessity to do so.

Qui-Gon remained silent.

Obi-Wan gathered his courage, and continued. "Now—after what happened this evening…I realize that much of what she said was…irrelevant, as far as I was concerned. Her way of life and mine are different—I see it very clearly now, and am aware that though we are both Jedi, there will always be certain areas to which she will have no access…just as I cannot expect to be an expert on the culture variations of systems in the outer Rim." He threw a look at the motionless master. "But I don't understand why she chose to do so, knowing that they could not apply to me…" he hesitated. "She is intelligent, and perceptive…surely she knew…?" He stopped, unaware of how to present facts as he saw them, without throwing T'shar into shadow. "Forgive me, master. On Chandren, I could not—I was confused…and I knew that my behaviour was unbefitting a Jedi. I tried to understand her theories…I thought, by following them, I was purging myself of the darkness within me. " He buried his head in his hands. "I see now that it has been nothing but a mistake. I should have dealt with this myself…"

He looked up at Qui-Gon, eyes suffused with a mixture of penitence and pleading. "Please forgive me—I thought I was enforcing my loyalty to you—I did not perceive it as an error on your part." He moved slightly, clasping Qui-Gon's fingers in his own. "Master, please. You did not err—you never have. My own feelings led me into this—I did not know, I did not see…"

Qui-Gon turned then, recognizing the slight waver in the apprentice's voice, and swiftly placed a hand on the young man's forehead. "Padawan, there is no need to apologize."

"Yes, there is. I—you are the best teacher an apprentice could hope for, and what's this but a betrayal of what you've taught me all these years—how could I have ignored it all?" Obi-Wan's voice had risen slightly. "It was as though I were possessed…" he slumped forward. "I shall accept any punishment you see fit to give me. Behaving like a misguided youngling—"

"Padawan." Qui-Gon's voice rang out. "You will stop, this instant." He waited until he was sure that Obi-Wan's attention was centred on his words. "While I admit that you certainly must have released your fear and guilt into the Force…there are other factors involved."

"There are?" Obi-Wan raised incredulous eyes at that—eyes that were at once filled with hope, and confusion. "What are they?"

(to be concluded)