If you ignore the past, you jeopardize the future.
"Must you shine that infernal light in my eyes, Vokara?" Obi-Wan asked. She glared at him and, he was pretty sure, shined the light harder into his eyes.
"Temperature is up again," she said mercilessly. "Heart rate, little fast, going down."
"Will he be all right?" Qui-Gon asked. He had been hovering anxiously since Obi-Wan had been brought to the med-bay.
"Looks about the same as last time, maybe a little more mild," Master Che said. "Should wear off, but I'm going to keep you for observation again." Obi-Wan made a face. "Don't make that face at me, young man. Keep that cloth on your nose."
Sulkily, Obi-Wan complied. "Mabster," he said, muffled. "Free be from this blace."
"As if," Qui-Gon said. "You're possibly never leaving the Halls again in your life. You almost gave me a heart attack."
Vokara returned with the evil nosebleed-stopping tool. Obi-Wan glared at it suspiciously. She moved his hand off his nose and shoved it up anyway.
"Ow," Obi-Wan said, but the bleeding had stopped and he sneezed out the last of it.
"How do you feel?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Do you remember that time I fell into the firebeetle pit?" Obi-Wan asked sulkily.
"Um," Qui-Gon said, slightly alarmed, "No?"
"Oh, right," Obi-Wan said. "Never mind."
"What did you see, Obi-Wan?" Vokara asked.
The door slid open. They all looked over to see Master Sey poking her head in apologetically. She was holding a cooling pack to her thigh, where the fabric was singed on the edges.
"Hello, I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "I was just in here getting a training accident burn treated, and I heard Obi-Wan had been brought in. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I'm fine, thank you Master Sey," Obi-Wan said.
"Let me take a look at that while you're here," Vokara said, moving Sey's hand off her leg. "Oh, good, it looks like just a flesh wound. You Masters need to learn that training power on your sabers is not just for students."
"I know," Sey said sheepishly.
"Let me get a bacta patch, and you should be fine," Vokara said.
"What happened?" Sey asked, giving Obi-Wan a concerned look. "You're covered in blood."
"Just a little incident," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "Nothing to worry about."
"It's too bad Obi-Wan's a patient at the same time as you are," Vokara said, unwrapping a bacta bandage. "He probably could have healed this without bacta. He's become quite the expert with lightsaber wounds."
Yes, he had. And he'd seen a lot of saber burns. But he'd never seen anyone be burned by an opponent in the way Master Sey had. There was something subtly off about it. He tilted his head at her.
Master Sey presented her leg to Vokara, steadying herself on Qui-Gon's shoulder. "How embarrassing," she said, and Obi-Wan shook his head. Encountering Palpatine had made him too suspicious— he'd start seeing enemies everywhere if he kept on like this. "I hope you feel better," she said.
"You too, Master," Obi-Wan said.
He narrowed his eyes at the door as she left.
"Something wrong?" Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I guess not," he said.
"Good," Vokara said. "So now I don't have to feel bad about threatening you with what I will do if you leave here one second before I release you—"
Obi-Wan's friends had been in and out of his sick room all week, obviously on some kind of planned schedule between them and all very well-meaning. They'd been bringing him homework and gossip from around the Temple. Bruck had even visited once or twice, though never for very long and mostly to tell Obi-Wan that he looked terrible.
But now they were all in class or off-planet, which meant that Obi-Wan had some time to himself. He'd already mapped about fifteen ways of escape— the Healers would learn to be more watchful in time— and was considering enacting one of them when Qui-Gon came in.
Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something, then left again. He circled back while Obi-Wan watched, amused and curious.
"Why," Qui-Gon said, looking more exasperated than anything, "Did Xanatos just ask if you were all right?"
"Aww," said Obi-Wan. "He was worried."
"He asked his guard if you'd been killed on a mission or something," Qui-Gon said, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "He said he didn't care, it was just that he wanted to kill you himself."
"That's so sweet," Obi-Wan said. "I think I owe him a holonovel too."
"Why are you talking to Xanatos?" Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan scrunched his nose at him, mock-confused. "I told you I was going to go to him for help on my homework. You said sure."
"I said, hah-hah, sure," Qui-Gon said. "I thought you were kidding."
"I wasn't," Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon walked out again, then came back in. "Why?" he asked.
"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "It was the will of the Force."
"I'm going to believe you," Qui-Gon said, "But only because I don't want to think about how it could actually be worse."
Obi-Wan came home a few days after he was released from the Halls to find Count Dooku in his home. He paused in the entryway, feeling out the currents of the apartment. Light, still, in the Living Force as everywhere Qui-Gon inhabited for a long period of time was. And Qui-Gon was just around the corner, unhurt.
Obi-Wan stepped fully inside. "Master," he said.
Dooku gave him a once-over. "You must be the padawan."
"I suppose I must," Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon stepped out of the kitchen. He had pasta in his hair. "Oh, Obi-Wan," he said. "Good, you're home."
"You're not trying to make dinner, are you?" Obi-Wan asked, horrified, and dropped his Healer's kit and boots by the door. He bolted for the kitchen. He used the Force to turn off the burner on the stove, where a pot of Andoorian spaghetti was boiling over, hissing.
"I can cook," Qui-Gon protested.
"Uh-huh," Obi-Wan said, poking the oven until it turned off, and whatever was in there stopped smoking. He looked over his shoulder and glared at Dooku, who was watching from the doorway. "You didn't stop this monstrosity, Master Dooku?"
"I had assumed my padawan would have learned how to survive after all these years," Dooku said. "Clearly I was wrong."
"Oh, hah-hah," Qui-Gon said. "It's not that bad." He peered into the oven. "The garlic bread is barely burned."
"I didn't know we were having guests," Obi-Wan said, accusatorially, opening the drawer with the oven mitts and tossing them to Qui-Gon when it became clear he didn't know where they kept them. Then he spilled out the pasta into a strainer.
"Didn't I mention it?" Qui-Gon asked innocently. Together they managed to wrangle Andoorian spaghetti, barely burned garlic bread, and some sauce into a palatable meal.
"I'll set the table," Obi-Wan said, before Qui-Gon could.
Qui-Gon gave him a faintly baffled look, but let him do as he pleased.
Dooku had watched these proceedings with a critical eye, quietly fathoming out Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. To Obi-Wan it was clear he was looking for some kind of weakness, a loss of Jedi propriety, or maybe just trying to figure out their dynamic.
Obi-Wan set the table like he was preparing for a Senatorial gala, perfectly placed and with the perfection of a diplomat, while Qui-Gon and Dooku made stilted small talk.
When Dooku saw the table, his mouth twitched— a little impressed, but mostly amused.
"Let's eat," Qui-Gon said, then, when they sat down, "Why did you put out so many utensils? I didn't even know we had some of these."
"You should learn your table manners, Qui-Gon," Dooku said. "It appears your padawan has been paying more attention to his etiquette classes than you ever did."
"Thank you ever so much, Master," Qui-Gon said. He looked at Obi-Wan, posture perfectly straight, and Dooku, so perfectly following dining etiquette he may as well have been eating with the Chancellor. "Are you two having a pissing match over me?"
"Master!" Obi-Wan said.
"Qui-Gon, really," Dooku said at the same time. "Mind your manners at the table."
"Oh, Force," Qui-Gon said. "I should never have let you two meet. I knew you'd be an unstoppable force of chaos."
That made them pause their ultra-polite staring contest and exchange a confused look instead. Team up? The two of them? They decided in a glance. Impossible.
"Are you going to introduce us properly, Qui-Gon Jinn?" Dooku asked. He twirled Andoorian spaghetti around his fork and somehow still managed to make it look elegant. "I had to learn that you'd taken a padawan from someone else. I suppose I might as well learn about who he is from Temple gossip as well."
Qui-Gon sighed. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master Yan Dooku. I took Obi-Wan as my padawan. Yes, I know I said I'd never take a padawan again. No need to gloat."
"I would never," Dooku said, looking intently at Obi-Wan. "How are you enjoying being an apprentice?"
"Very much, thank you," Obi-Wan said. He was endeavoring to make his fork do the same neat twirl thing that Dooku was pulling off. "And do you enjoy being a Master?"
"I can't complain," Dooku said.
"Can't is not the same as not desiring to, Master," Obi-Wan said crisply.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said.
"Precision of words is important," Dooku agreed. "I had a look at your transcripts, Padawan Kenobi."
Qui-Gon seemed to have accepted his fate and was now eating with a resigned air. "Why can't you two act normal for five minutes?" he said.
Obi-Wan wasn't surprised that Dooku had checked up on him— he would have been disappointed if he didn't.
"What did you think?" Obi-Wan said, letting show on his face how unintimidated he was.
"Disappointing," Dooku said. "Middling."
Qui-Gon bristled. "Obi-Wan is an excellent student, Master," he said.
"Obi-Wan has chosen a courseload of classes which he is not particularly suited to, and which seem to be decided according to his own esoteric whims," Dooku said. "The only classes in which he is doing very well— almost perfect marks, in fact— are the core classes which all padawans must take. Perhaps Obi-Wan should take more of those."
"I don't strive to learn what I'm already good at, Master Dooku," Obi-Wan said. He served himself more pasta.
"And dangerously arrogant as well," Dooku said.
"Arrogance, or, perhaps, awareness of my own abilities," Obi-Wan said. "A Jedi must know the enemy, but must also know themself. I know exactly what I'm capable of."
"Very philosophical," Dooku said.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said.
"By the goddess," Qui-Gon said. "If it's going to continue like this, I'm breaking out the alcohol." He stood and retreated to the kitchen.
"They tell me you have a strong presciencient ability," Dooku told Obi-Wan, once they were alone.
"I wouldn't presume to know what others say of me," Obi-Wan said. "Is that why you've decided to come test me out, Master Dooku?"
"I am very curious to know," Dooku said, "How you coerced my old padawan into taking you on."
"I think you should know more than anyone that Qui-Gon Jinn never does anything he doesn't want to do," Obi-Wan said stiffly.
"Exactly," Dooku said. "Which is why I am also wondering what you have done to convince him that talking to his old Master again, after so many years of no contact, is a good idea."
"Nothing on purpose," Obi-Wan said. "I don't know his mind."
"Only the future."
"Only possible futures," Obi-Wan corrected.
"There's a difference?"
"There is," and Obi-Wan flashed his most mischievous grin. "After all, you're here, aren't you?"
Qui-Gon emerged from the kitchen with a very nice bottle of Correllian brandy. "Are you two finished?"
"Yep," Obi-Wan said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dooku said, sitting back. "Are you going to pour that, or will we be here all day?"
"Can I have some?" Obi-Wan asked hopefully.
"Not until you're older and wiser," Qui-Gon said, with a laugh.
"One out of the two in your case?" Obi-Wan said sweetly, and already knew to duck the flying piece of bread that came from Qui-Gon's direction.
"Obi!" Obi-Wan heard as he was coming out of his Slicing class, and then he was almost bowled over by an armful of very excited Mon Calamaran.
"Whoa!" Obi-Wan said, steadying them both, amused. "Where's the fire?"
"You knew this was going to happen!" Bant said.
"Knew what?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Master Tahl! She asked me to be her padawan!" Bant squeezed him into a hug.
Obi-Wan grinned. It was early— earlier than she'd taken Bant the last time around. Obi-Wan, possibly, had been pushing them together for that purpose. "Congratulations, Bantling," he said. "You deserve it."
"Thanks, Obi-Wan," Bant said, nearly beaming. Her neck gills were flapping excitedly. "I can't wait to be a padawan. Master Tahl says that I can take some Healing classes if I want— they all look so interesting!"
"We'll celebrate tonight, with Garen and Reeft," Obi-Wan said. He was sure he could rustle up a cake on short notice— he had recently made the acquaintance of a certain diner owner, a Besalisk who was always willing to do Obi-Wan a favor.
"Think of it," Bant said, bumping against his side as they walked down the hallway. "Both of us, Jedi Knights. Can you picture it?"
Obi-Wan smiled.
"Of course," Bant said. "Who am I asking?"
Obi-Wan was down in the Archives again. While Obi-Wan's friendship with Vokara Che was mostly bonding over being equally sarcastic and sniping at each other, Master Nu had taken Obi-Wan under her wing and believed he could do no wrong.
"Obi-Wan, dear, can you please shelve these for me?" Nu asked, handing him a pile of holobooks. "I had meant to get to it today, but you know how these young Knights are always asking for help."
"Of course, Master Jocasta." Obi-Wan would be glad for the break. When he stood up, his back cracked, which meant he'd been down here longer than he thought. Master Nu hadn't needed help; she'd tricked him into taking care of himself, the old sneak.
Still, Obi-Wan set off down into the Archives, more than familiar enough with them by now to navigate without difficulty. The busts of the Lost Twenty had not yet been commissioned— actually, they were still the Lost Nineteen. Dooku would someday soon round out the number of Jedi who'd left the Order.
Obi-Wan was almost finished with his task when he sensed someone unfamiliar at the end of the aisle— this was the Temple, so Obi-Wan didn't immediately go on the defensive, but he did look over. It was a Jedi after all. Master Sifo-Dyas.
Obi-Wan's mouth quirked. He'd never known Sifo-Dyas well. He had died only a little while before Qui-Gon, which meant that Obi-Wan, just a lowly padawan, never had much reason to interact with him unless he was in front of the Council and probably already in trouble. No one had ever been able to come up with a satisfactory reason why he'd commissioned the clone army. He had visions, though— general consensus had been that he'd seen the war coming.
"Master," Obi-Wan said. "Do you need assistance finding something?"
"No," he said. He was a human, taller than Obi-Wan and dressed in typical brown robes. "Actually, I've been wanting to meet you properly."
Obi-Wan tried not to tense up. Whether the clone army had made the war better or worse was up for debate. Obi-Wan didn't trust him completely— Obi-Wan knew about the secret little time bomb that had been hidden in Dyas' army's head. He couldn't know how involved Dyas had been. "Yes? What about?"
"I see the future, you know," Dyas said. "My gift is not so strong as yours, of course, but I have been known to see the shape of the future."
Obi-Wan watched him quietly.
"For years now, the visions of the future I've seen have been consistent. Death. Hundreds of the same face, a droid army bigger than the galaxy has ever seen before," Dyas said. "Until the day you collapsed, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"What do you see now?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Sometimes it's better," he said. "Sometimes it's much worse. You have changed things."
"I had to," Obi-Wan said.
"Maybe," Sifo-Dyas said. "Maybe not. You're still young, inexperienced." Obi-Wan had to hold in a hysterical laugh at that one. "The ripples you are causing in the Force are too much for either of us to understand. You need to be careful."
"I know what I'm doing," Obi-Wan said.
"Knowledge of the future can be both a blessing and a curse," Sifo-Dyas said.
"Thank you for your concern," Obi-Wan said.
Sifo-Dyas inclined his head, a slight but respectful bow. "Bear it well, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."
He turned and retreated down the aisle of books before Obi-Wan could return the blessing. A shiver ran up Obi-Wan's spine.
Qui-Gon had been spending time with Dooku. This was a development that puzzled Obi-Wan, but not necessarily one he was going to try to stop. If Qui-Gon wanted to change the future, to keep his Master in the Order, well, Obi-Wan was hardly one to judge. But the thing was that the relationship between Dooku and Qui-Gon was still incredibly tense and awkward.
That meant that Obi-Wan was pretty much dragged along while they argued back and forth at each other. Obi-Wan never knew Dooku outside of a combat context, but he was starting to get the uncomfortable feeling this was how he showed affection.
They were sparring now, physically but also verbally.
Qui-Gon had made Obi-Wan come along so now he was leaning against the wall of the salle, bored and trying not to flinch every time Dooku's— blue— lightsaber got too close to his Master.
"I have no intention of leaving the Order," Dooku said, parrying a strike. "All I am saying is I can understand why one might."
"The Jedi Order is a source of protection for the galaxy, and a refuge of the Force," Qui-Gon said. "To leave the Order would be to leave the Force."
Dooku snorted. He stepped around Qui-Gon's blade with no apparent difficulty. "The Force the Jedi teach in the Temple is not the only interpretation of it— the philosophies of the Fallen Jedi, for example, or even the Whills, or the Nightsisters."
This was going to take a while. Obi-Wan slid down to sit on the ground. "That's one point for heresies," Obi-Wan called out. "Can I go, Master? I have homework to do."
"No," Dooku and Qui-Gon said at the same time, and Obi-Wan sighed.
"You would compare the perversion of the Dark to the Jedi?" Qui-Gon asked. "You're crazier than I thought, my old Master."
"I didn't say the Dark is a good avenue," Dooku said. "But you must admit that it brings about different abilities. There are other interpretations of the Force— ways that do not stifle our natural power in it."
"The Jedi do not stifle power," Qui-Gon said, as he tucked and rolled under Dooku's blade. "They maintain the balance of it."
"Were I not in the Jedi Order," Dooku countered, "I could be the leader of Serenno. I could have more power and influence than most Senators of the Republic."
"Your Counthood," Qui-Gon confirmed, sounding a little discomfited. "Yes. I remember."
Obi-Wan was saved from further discomfort when the door slid open. Bruck Chun walked through it, swinging his unlit lightsaber in one hand. He stopped short when he saw them and blushed.
"Run now," Obi-Wan advised. "Save yourself."
"Master Drallig told me you were in here," Bruck said, staying well back from the two duelling Masters. He glanced over at them, downright shy for Bruck. "I thought we could spar— wow. They're good."
Obi-Wan looked back at his Master and Grandmaster. To him, it really just looked like bickering, occasionally with a lightsaber involved. "I suppose," he said.
Qui-Gon had finally noticed the new arrival. "Obi-Wan," he said. "Isn't this the boy who was bothering you when we first met?" He gave Bruck an unfriendly stare. He was being protective, Obi-Wan realized, only after a moment. It made him want to smile.
"It's all right, Master," Obi-Wan said. "We're friends now."
"He really means he bothered me until I agreed to do whatever he wants," Bruck said.
"Now that I completely believe," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan made a face at him.
"Very funny," he said. "Go back to your little fight. Bruck and I are going to train somewhere else."
"No, wait," Dooku said. "I want to see how you work."
"No offense, Master Dooku, but I don't have to prove my skills to anyone but my own Master," Obi-Wan said. "I'm not really interested."
Bruck squeaked, but Dooku just looked amused. "Indulge an old man."
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon shrugged.
"All right," Obi-Wan said. "Fine. Bruck, do you want to?"
"Do I want to fight in front of one of the most skilled Masters in the Order?" Bruck asked. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. "The answer is yes, obviously."
They stretched, then stood across from each other.
"Don't worry, Oafy-Wan," Bruck said. "I'll go easy on you."
"I was about to say the same thing," Obi-Wan said, and they struck at the same time.
Bruck was good, and getting better. Obi-Wan had found their sparring a good way to hone his own skills— that is, his skills of playing a padawan who was still learning. Well-practiced at it now, it was much easier to fool the Masters as well as the Initiates.
It was still good exercise, and Obi-Wan enjoyed himself, more or less playing while Bruck showed off for the masters.
But the fight had to end eventually, and Obi-Wan made his move. He jumped suddenly instead of moving in to catch Bruck's attack, and surprised him. He landed on Bruck's other side and tapped him gently on the back with his lightsaber before Bruck could so much as register that he was there.
"Solah," Bruck acquiesced.
"Good work, padawans," Qui-Gon said. Bruck puffed up with pride.
"You're holding back," Dooku declared.
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You hold back, padawan," Dooku said. "You fear hurting your opponent. You don't use your knowledge of the future to its full extent."
"I'm not trying to cut off anyone's limbs," Obi-Wan said dryly. "This is a friendly sparring session, if you hadn't noticed."
"If you were my padawan, I'd make you run blindfolded paces much more often," Dooku sniffed. "Encourage you to rely on foresight."
"Thankfully, he's not your charge," Qui-Gon said. "And is in fact mine. So I get to train him how I like." Qui-Gon, in this time too, liked to remind Obi-Wan to stay rooted in the present— to listen to the Force now, not as it could be. It was good for Obi-Wan to remember.
Dooku rolled his eyes but didn't complain about Obi-Wan's teaching further. Another thing for Qui-Gon and Dooku to argue about during the next sparring session of their own, probably. "You, youngling."
"Bruck Chun," Bruck said, straightening his back almost painfully.
"Initiate Chun," Dooku said. "You ought to focus more on that back foot."
Obi-Wan expected Bruck to bristle at the criticism, but instead he lit up. "Yes, Master Dooku!" he said.
"Might I remind you that Chun is not your responsibility either?" Qui-Gon said. "Get a new padawan, if you want to criticize so much. I don't get paid enough to listen to you myself these days."
"You never listened to me even when you were a youngling," Dooku complained. Obi-Wan made eye contact with Bruck and jerked his head toward the door. Bruck nodded. "Or have you forgotten that time on Mexlar, with that horrendous creature— what did you name it again?"
Bruck and Obi-Wan snuck out, though it wasn't exactly a difficulty as the two masters started arguing once more. They made it outside and Obi-Wan grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Freedom at last," he said.
"I like Master Dooku," Bruck said. "He's nice."
Obi-Wan looked at him blankly for a moment, then couldn't contain his laugh.
"Shut up," Bruck said.
Count Dooku. Nice. Obi-Wan laughed again.
Chapter header from 2X12 The Mandalore Plot
