Chapter Six

The communicator at Obi Wan's belt beeped for a third time as he descended the walkway from Buffy's small residence. It was slightly larger than the single room she'd had in the Factory District, but… Even though the room she'd had before hadn't been decorated or personal, this new place was colder somehow. Darker.

Much like her.

The remembered sleeplessness written under her jaded eyes and the bandage around her hand had engrained themselves in his mind, ousting the vision of the lively warrior he'd first met in the Antipodes.

"Yes," he barked into the communicator with more aggression than he meant to reveal.

"We have a mission," Qui Gon replied after a moment of silence.

"Of course we do."

"I sense resentment…"

Obi Wan paused for a moment – could he really? From this far away?

"No," Qui Gon answered.

Shaking his head, he smiled briefly despite his foul mood.

"On my way."

Replacing the communicator, his mind wandered to his Master and what he would make of Buffy if he were to meet her. Given both their odd personalities, they would probably get along very well.

If she didn't hate Jedi…

The slight grin Qui Gon had incited was replaced with a frown as he contemplated her words on the "mythical" Jedi. Is that really what some thought of them? That they didn't exist or if they did that they didn't care about saving innocent lives? His unease increased as he calculated all the missions he'd been on since becoming an apprentice.

The number that involved politics versus the number that didn't was ridiculously uneven…

Obi Wan looked around Crimson Corridor with new eyes. This was a sector that was labeled one of the most dangerous on the planet, mere kilometers from the Jedi Temple. Why? Some Jedi were often at the temple waiting for a mission, then being sent off world to arrange treaties and guard royalty and oversee trade agreements.

He wasn't naïve enough to think these were unnecessary tasks – they were indeed needed for the greater good of the universe - but when had being a Jedi become only this? And why hadn't he noticed?

A young woman stumbled out of an alley in his path, both distracting him from his thoughts as well as punctuating them as she stared up at him with terrified eyes and a bloodied face.

"Are you al-"

That was as far as he got before she bolted for another shadowed path. He was torn between searching where she'd come from and where she had gone - not sure if he should find her or find what had done that to her. The choice was made for him when the communicator at his belt trilled again. He was taking too long – his Master was beckoning.

It was the first time he'd thought the word "Master" with less than pleasant connotations…


Buffy sat at the diner's furthest table from the door, her back to the wall, reading over the list of names Bal had given her as she bit into the strange sandwich like thing in front of her. She had no idea what it was, but that was the norm since she'd swan dived out of Sunnydale.

It was kind of fun actually - ordering strange things with names she couldn't say, trying to imagine what it would look like. And the options around here were vast compared to the few places there'd been in the Factory District. Sometimes what she picked looked great but tasted horrible. Other times, like this one, it tasted amazing but looked like something had barfed it up. She was getting good at eating without looking at the food.

Taking a sip of something that tasted like lemon flavored coffee (that one was going on the "blegh" list) she let her eyes settle on the only name that looked somewhat familiar. If only she could remember why…

Dahl, Dahl… She knew she'd heard that name somewhere before, but she'd always been better with faces than names. Maybe she should have Bal add descriptions to the names. Or draw pictures.

She barely held in a snicker thinking of Bal drawing out faces like a kindergartener. But that lead to thoughts of Alec which wasn't a good place to hang out for long, so she went back to studying the familiar name and trying to place it.

Speaking of names…

She felt herself lighten a little as her mind drifted to a happier distraction.

Opie Juan…

The corner of her mouth climbed slightly as she chewed. She really had to ask him to write that down or something because she had a feeling that, like the game "Telephone" when she was a kid, she was messing it up a little more every time she thought about it.

He'd taken the time to track her down literally on the other side of the world. And when he'd gotten so close, the feeling of the warmth of him… She hadn't been that close to someone in a long time.

And suddenly she remembered where she'd heard the name Dahl and it washed away all the happies she'd just scraped together. There was someone recently that she'd gotten close enough to feel their body heat, but it hadn't been the nice kind of surprise that Juan's had been.

Lip pulling back slightly in a snarl, she paid her credits and left the diner, heading for the other end of Crimson Corridor. It had been there, in a club, that she'd "met" a guy named Dahl (or Doll to her ears).

The Tusken Oasis was one of the nicer places around there. From what she'd heard it was owned by something called a Hut and whatever that was didn't put up with any crap so the normal rowdy bunch of Crimson Corridor mostly behaved themselves.

She'd gone in partially looking for information, but mostly she'd just been curious. Bright lights, music and laughing wasn't something she'd seen in the Factory District and it wasn't exactly what you'd typically find in Crimson Corridor either – at least without it leading to bloodshed at some point. Inside had been pretty damn cool actually – live music, dancing, a bar, gambling. She'd almost been enjoying herself until a muscly blonde had shoved himself all into her personal space.

He'd introduced himself as Dahl before getting a knee to the groin.

She'd slipped out quietly (for a change) after that to avoid being kicked out – she'd wanted to be free to come back later.

Hello, Later.

The walk wasn't short, but she managed to get there without getting distracted by anything (which was hard in Crimson Corridor because something weird was always going on around every corner). Staring at it from outside, she was glad to see that it was just as busy as it was the first time she'd been there. That gave her a better shot at finding Dahl or someone that knew him. The giant bug like alien at the door gave her the stink eye(-s, since there were quite a few of them staring her down), but let her in anyway. So far, so good – maybe she could get in and out without-

"Slayer-"

"Sssssslayyyyer-"

"Slyieherrrr-"

To be fair, she wasn't sure the last whisper was really talking about her, but the murmurings of her title along with the mixture of angry and fearful looks made it obvious that her reputation preceded her this time.

Sticking to the edge of the crowd, she made her way to the end of the bar and took a seat where she could watch everything that was going on in the room. The stares and whispers went on for another few minutes, but when she didn't immediately kick the crap out of anyone they started losing interest.

Now that she wasn't busy pretending to be quiet and innocent, she took the time to really look around the room. It was just as gaudy and fascinating as it had been the last time.

The group on stage was the same as when she'd been there before so she figured they must be a regular attraction. They looked a lot like the imaginings of aliens at home – large, pale heads and big black eyes. Each was playing a kind of flute thing and the sound was actually really catchy. Human and alien alike mingled and danced toward the center, while female aliens of different types dance on raise podiums throughout the room.

On the edges and spilling into another room were the betting tables. The only one she recognized from her spot was Sabacc. Buffy was proud of herself for having learned it pretty quickly (not that she'd had much choice – Bal was her teacher and after a quick run through had insisted that the best way to learn was to play… with actual credits).

The other looked like some kind of space chess using holographic images of aliens she swore looked like some of the demons she'd slayed at home. She'd just made the decision to go have a closer look when a hand landed on her shoulder.

She spun and grabbed the person's wrist, much like Juan had with her hours before, but instead of lightly holding it like he'd done, she pushed her thumb in a tender spot and bent it back just to the point of being painful.

And there, sucking air between his teeth and looking pissed off, was the very guy she'd come there looking for.

"Dahl."

And here she'd been hoping to get info from him without the usual "Ow that hurts, please stop, I'll tell you what you want to know!" - well, the last part was good, but the parts before wouldn't go over well in the middle Oasis. The patrons would probably like the live entertainment, but the management… not so much.

She let go of his wrist and watched with more than a little satisfaction as he rubbed it with a wince. Short and stocky with hair two shades lighter than hers held in a braid down his back, he wasn't really a bad looking guy. Just skeevy as hell.

She must've still looked as irritated by him as she felt, because when he looked up from his wrist he held up his hands in a mock show of surrender and gave her a rueful grin.

"Easy, I just wanted to apologize," he said. "I didn't know I was making a move on the infamous Slayer when you were here before."

"That you think it'd be okay to act like that if I wasn't the Slayer makes me wish I'd kicked you harder," she said, thoughtfully tilting her head.

Whoops, not going to catch any flies with honey like that…

There was a blink and you'd miss it moment of his eyes turning hard and deadly, but it was gone as soon as it came. Buffy knew she'd seen it though and knew that it meant he hadn't forgiven or forgotten being left in a wheezing pile on the floor of the club.

That was fine. She hadn't forgiven him for rubbing his junk on her hip.

Sliding into the seat next to her, he gave her another smile that she guessed was supposed to be charming. As she studied him, she could admit that if she hadn't met him the way she had she might've fallen for it.

"I had a little too much to drink that night. I promise to keep my hands to myself unless otherwise directed."

Ugh, as if that would happen…

"Well, isn't that nice of you," she said, drudging up a smile the she was sure looked as sour as it tasted.

"So, Slayer, you're a woman of mystery around here," he said, nodding his thanks when the bartender dropped off a drink she hadn't seen him order. "Word is you've been searching for information on the Black Sun. How about I give you what you're looking for and in exchange you give me your forgiveness for my behavior?"

Yeah, because she was so sure it was that simple. What was his play? Why would he willingly offer up info on a dangerous syndicate, one that according to Bal's info he worked with or for, to someone that had humiliated him? A trap? Did he want the Slayer to owe him? What was he getting out of this?

She took a sip of her own drink and decided to play nice for a little while.

"Well, on my home planet we have a saying about gift horses and mouths that would probably sound pretty crazy to you. Not even sure you guys have horses here… So I'll just offer to buy your next drink and ask you to continue."

"Sounds like a good trade," he said, his smile a little too sharp.


Despite his Master's repeated summons implying some sort of urgency, Obi Wan found himself waiting around the ship after he arrived back at the temple for quite some time. When it occurred to him that it was entirely possible Qui Gon was taking his time on purpose to teach him a lesson in patience he decided meditation to alleviate the irritation that was building would be the best course of action.

When he sensed this Master approaching he gripped tightly to his calm and left the ship to await him in the hanger. He was surprised to see Supreme Chancellor Velorum accompanying him. Maybe he hadn't been dallying to be annoying after all.

The sharp, unamused look Qui Gon shot at him plainly said he'd heard that.

"Obi Wan, it's nice to see you again,"Valorum greeted.

"And yourself, Chancellor."

"I don't think I need to impress upon you how important this negotiation is," the Chancellor said, turning back to Qui Gon. "I trust that Jedi such as you will have no issue clearing this matter up."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Qui Gon said with a slight head bow. "I'll contact you after the meeting to appraise you of the progress."

After Valorum left, Obi Wan followed his Master up the ramp to the ship with a frown.

"Another political mission," he said hollowly.

"The Trade Federation is blocking the routes to the planet of Naboo," Qui Gon said. "We are to act as ambassadors and come to an agreement between the Federation and the Republic."

"Isn't this something the Senate should be handling?"

"They're arguing themselves in circles while the tensions escalate," Qui Gon said. "The Chancellor has commissioned us in secret to move things along."

Obi Wan gave a curt nod and slid into the co-pilots seat, keeping his mind clear of his thoughts on the subject.

"You're displeased with this mission?"

Apparently not clear enough…

"Does it ever seem to you that we spend more time as figureheads for the Senate than we do actually helping people?"

While he'd been hesitant to voice that concern out loud to his Master, he now waited intently for his answer.

Qui Gon nodded slowly. "I know it can seem that way – especially to an eager apprentice," he said giving Obi Wan a glance and a small smile. "If being a figurehead can resolve a situation peacefully that would've otherwise ended in suffering or even war, then I'm happy to play that part."

Obi Wan frowned wondering if he should tell his Master that, while he understood the logic behind such a sentiment, he wasn't sure how could accept it now that it had been brought into the light…

"I met someone, a resident of Coruscant, that doesn't even believe Jedi are real," he said, turning away from Qui Gon to look at the instrument panel instead. "She thinks we're a myth, a children's story character, that there are no such protectors."

"This is the woman you've been searching for? From The Antipodes?"

Obi Wan gave a single nod, not naïve enough to be surprised Qui Gon had gleaned that information from him.

"She spends her days protecting the innocent-"

"And doling out violence to the guilty," Qui Gon cut in with a seriousness that Obi Wan rarely heard from him. "While such actions may be attractive to someone with such a strong sense of justice as yourself, that is a dangerous path for a Jedi."

And that was the crux of the situation between him and Buffy, wasn't it? She made him question… everything – made him feel too much. And Qui Gon was right, that was dangerous for a Jedi. The path to the Dark Side was a slippery slope…

"I believe I'm a lenient Master," Qui Gon said from the seat next to him after the silence had settled too long. "I think that it's important for you to find the answers you seek for yourself. Those will mean far more than the ones that you accept just because they came from me. In light of recent circumstances I've tried to let you find your own path but, Obi Wan, I'm growing more and more concerned about your future."

Obi Wan kept his silence, because he knew his Master could sense the truth from him.

So was he…