He had thought he could handle seeing her again, but just looking at that familiar face and ink black hair made pain slice through him. It went deeper than emotional, the pain was almost physical – his chest constricted and his torso ached with the strain of holding his breath. Was she real? An illusion? But he saw how frightened and shocked she was, those forest green eyes wide and startled, rooted to her chair with her knuckles going white as she gripped the edges of her seat. All at once, the pain grew dizzyingly intense, and he thought his body would implode just by looking at her, just by seeing those full cheeks and pouting lips, those large green eyes flecked with gold. Force, it still hurt, and for an instant his vision blurred and he recalled with diamond-edged clarity the day she had left, without turning back once. All over again he felt the satin of her lips on his, those elegant fingers shaking as she laid truth her feelings. He heard her voice, thick with emotion and raw with hurt, as she revealed the truth about Wathearu, remembered the hurtful shrieks she had made as she thrashed through her nightmares. He remembered holding her, that fragile, slender body close to his as they wept together, cried because their scars aligned and their circles completed each other. And then, just as suddenly, his training snapped into into place, and he bowed respectfully. "How very lovely to make your acquaintance, La'Ana Walker," He said, assured to hear that his voice didn't shake or betray his scarred emotions just teeming beneath the surface.

Obi-Wan felt the Force sensitivity from this woman, and was surprised. She was connected to the Force, he could feel it – and she was as white as a sheet. He bowed respectfully to her, and falteringly she rose from her chair, bowing tremblingly. "Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi," She said softly, her lips trembling. Obi-Wan observed with traditional Jedi eyes that she looked perhaps late twenties, and she favored her left leg slightly as she stood. She wasn't exactly pretty – but there was a girlish innocence that lingered in her looks, with the young cheeks and rosebud lips. But he didn't understand the impact she was having on his Master – he had felt the black, solid shock emanating from his Master when they had first locked eyes, but now his face was as unfathomable and stony as it usually was. He would have like to speak with the woman, to see if she had any previous connection with his Master – although judging by their looks, they had – but the High King was already pushing them up to the table, putting them in places of honor. He was talking all the while, and soon the lush din of babble fell over the crowd, musings and murmurs tinkling together.

The Crown Princess eyed the two Jedi with a highly interested eye. The older one was ruggedly handsome, with gruff, weather-beaten look to him which seemed very masculine and very handsome. The other one, the younger one, was perhaps fifteen years old – but she had a poor eye for age, being a Daal – and far cuter. He had spiked brown hair, cut quite short, with a Padawan braid in back hanging over his left ear, and a wiry, lean stance. For some reason, the older one seemed uneasy and scanning the room, but the younger one seemed perfectly at ease. Zeijkk caught the boy's eye over the rim of her goblet and she smiled approvingly. Oh, yes, these Jedi would do wonderfully. She had been resistant to the idea of Jedi coming to the planet at all, but when she realized that their presence here could help her scheme, she decided they would be useful. Very useful indeed. She took a dainty sip of her drink and pushed back a golden curl from her eyes.

"As I'm sure you know, we've been having some real problems with a certain bandit," The High King was saying, already scarfing down food as though it would be outlawed tomorrow. Obi-Wan took a polite bite of his food and was surprised at it's taste – rich, savory and complex, with flirting hints of pepper laced throughout. Qui-Gon looked down at the charred ethearu steak and almost felt nauseated; He remembered her cooking a similar dish to this, her small feet bare, hair still wet from the shower, her hurt still fresh as she sliced and baked. Qui-Gon nodded, forcing himself to pay attention to what the king was saying.

"He's come out publically and announced that he'll do all he can to stop my baby's wedding," The King said, glancing down the table at the beautiful girl who was his daughter. "He kidnapped a friend of hers, to intimidate her! He'll stop at nothing to destroy Zeijkk's special day, and I won't have it!" He said, taking a ferocious bite of food.

"Does this bandit have a name, a team, a hideout?" Qui-Gon asked, taking a reluctant bite of his food. He was relieved to taste that it was nothing like the dish Ana had prepared so many years ago. The King swigged his drink and belched once, then patted his belly.

"He goes by the name of Mockingbird," the King said, snorting, "and he's been rumored to live on the southern slopes. Which is ridiculous, of course," He added as an afterthought.

"Why is that, Your Highness?" Qui-Gon asked respectfully, trying vainly to catch another glimpse of Ana while still appearing to be listening to the King.

"Because the southern slopes are filled with dangerous animals and wild creatures," the King said primly. "He'd be eaten within minutes."

"When is the wedding supposed to be?" Qui-Gon asked, finally seeing Ana lean back in her chair with a stupefied look on her face. She ran a hand through her curls and buried her face in her hands, an action which was brutally familiar to him. He looked away quickly.

"Two months from now," the High King answered, taking a savage bite of his meat. "I want to make sure that my little girl is protected at all times. Her Guardian is wonderful – an ex-Jedi, you know – but she's handicapped, and I wanted to make sure she's well protected."

"Handicapped?" Qui-Gon said, more to himself than to the king. "How so?"

"Mmph. Injured in a lightsaber battle is what she told Zeijkk, but I doubt it," He said with a grunt. "She's a strange one, that woman." He shook his head, making his youthful brown curls toss. "Spends all her time teaching Zeijkk how to fight instead of how to embroider. Totally unconventional, but she's worth it." He laughed a little, more of a series of guttural chokes than an actual laugh. "Spends most of her time down in the kitchens cooking, if she's not in the arena telling Zeijkk how to fly a fighter-plane. Once she broke a servant's nose – by accident, she says – but she's a wildcat and no mistake."

Oh, yes. That's my Ana.


She sat on the balcony, her heart hammering, palms damp. The tears were trying to come, but she swallowed them back with a herculean effort; she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Even after all these years, she still hated to cry, even to herself, and any display of weakness was promptly squashed. Because, after everything was done, she still had her pride, didn't she? She might not have anything else, but she clung to this emotion like glue. Seeing him again tore her open, ripped her apart just by looking at those deep cerulean eyes. Oh, how many times had she told herself that she was over him? How many times had she assured herself that she was serenely independent, that Qui-Gon was a youthful hormone rampage, that things like true love didn't exist. But just seeing him again, not even talking with him, not even close enough to inhale his musky scent, had ravaged her. And this, this was love. She knew what this was, knew the emotion she had tamped down so successfully for the past decade. This was love, this was fireworks, this was that searing, scorching feeling which let her know exactly what she felt.

And kriff, did it hurt.

She just sat there, quelling her feelings with draughts of processed, filtered air, the cool air chasing away the smoky scent of meat and perfume filling the ballroom. She had escaped as soon as humanely possible, waiting respectfully until the King had made his speech and dismissed everyone, then bolted out like a hare from a fox. She could still hear the chatter of children laughing and exchanging jokes as they put on their furs and their sequined wraps, leaving with their dates and going back home for some smooching. Zeijkk was probably sizing up the two Jedi as neatly as you please, and wondering why her Guardian had left so quickly. Ana rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, pushing back the wave of bitter, stinging tears which nipped at her eyes. A dark sheet of unruly curls fell around her eyes like a curtain, and she clamped her lower lip between her teeth to inflict some pain, to keep the tears away. He had a Padawan, a good looking little boy of perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with brown hair and obedient brown eyes. He clung to the side of Qui-Gon, and he had that admiring look in his eye which told Ana how deep his respect was for his Master. He's everything I wasn't, Ana thought to herself dully. Probably the best Padawan known to the Jedi.

"Ana?"

Force, that voice. Deep, rumbling, a rich baritone wrapped with velvet, full of inflections and shades, almost as complex as his personality. That voice was the only voice in the world she could hear with perfect clarity, detect all the little nuances and differences, but today she wished she couldn't. Because he was so hurt, so raw, she could feel it humming in the Force, that betrayal thicker than fog clouding his words. Why was he seeking her out? She wanted nothing more than to fling herself off the balcony and have her end come quickly, but she couldn't make herself move. She heard his light footfalls – deceptively light, considering he was such a big man – and then he stood off to her right, his broad body blocking out the moon in her peripheral vision. His arms were folded, and she wondered for the second time why he had sought her out. Why did he even want to have this conversation? It would be better for both of them if she hadn't even existed.

"Your hair..." He said softly, and he sat down next to her, their knees almost touching. Fixedly, Ana kept her gaze on the floor. She didn't trust herself to look up, wasn't certain if her mask was in place. The last person in the world she wanted to have see her scars was Qui-Gon. Because his scars ran deeper than hers, and she didn't want to look in those eyes and see a reflection of her own hurts back at herself. "You grew it out," He said, and he made contact with her, his calloused fingers pushing her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture was so natural and automatic that he didn't even know he had done it until she looked up at him, those deep green eyes glossy with tears.

"Ten years and that's what you say?" She said, her voice full of bitterness. "You take on another Padawan, arrive at my home, see me for the first time in almost a decade, and the only thing you can says is 'Your hair is longer'?" She looked up at him then, and she saw he was taken aback at her. He was also frighteningly angry at the tone in her voice, she could see it in his eyes, but he was keeping himself in check. Barely.

"Why do you object to Obi-Wan?" He asked, setting his teeth. "He's a loyal boy, and someday he will make a great Jedi."

"Oh, yes, Obi-Wan the Loyal and Powerful," Ana sneered, her tears spilling down her cheeks. "Taught by none other than the wise and great Qui-Gon Jinn, Master of Everything." Now she was deliberately trying to provoke him, allowing her anger to get the better of her, and he tried to relax the fist his hand had made.

"Cheeky devil might be closer to the mark," He said softly, and the memory hit her so hard she actually flinched.

That bright, coppery terror blooming in her mouth, the feeling of weightlessness as she flung herself off the diving platform...

"What are you doing?"

"I am trying to get you to trust me."

The terror was back as she looked down at the floor, so hard and unyielding...

"I'm sorry," She rasped. Her voice was broken and cowed, nothing like the rebellious tone she had used just moments ago. "Qui-Gon, there was no other choice." She said, and finally met his gaze squarely, looking at him pleadingly. Those eyes, kriff, those eyes could make him do anything. Large green orbs, fringed with black lashes, slender brows curving over the delicate ridge of her eyes. "It was the only option," She said, almost in a whisper.

"I could have made it work," He said, and she snorted. "We could have made it work, Ana. Both of us. I don't know how, but if I had known how you felt earlier..."

"Even I didn't know how I felt!" Ana retorted, getting to her feet to pace restlessly. "I was a child, a stupid girl with a head full of fairy tales. I thought I loved you. I don't know what I thought."

"And now?" He asked, and was surprised at the fear he felt coiling in his stomach. He feared her answer as he might fear an adversary. She looked at him, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breathe through the lump in her throat, her cheeks glistening with tears.

"And now I love you more than ever," She said, the words a mere breath. "And that's why its dangerous. That's why we can't do this, Qui-Gon. We couldn't do it ten years ago and we can't do it now."

"Why not?" He said, and pounced to his feet with the agility and ferocity of a young cougar. He was so tall, so broad and lean, and she had to tilt her chin back to look up at him. Those smoky cerulean eyes were alive with energy, and she shook her head helplessly.

"Because I don't want you temporarily!" She shouted, her voice cracking. "You're a Jedi, and you can't form attachments! I don't want you for a day or a month or a year, I want you for the rest of my life." Her voice choked up and she couldn't go on. "I don't want you for however long the Council says we can have," She said, her voice lower, broken, huddled as a beaten child might cower in a corner. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his bearded cheek, her soft lips brushing against his whiskers. "I want you forever, Qui-Gon, and I can't have that. If I can't have that, I can't have you. Please, Qui-Gon, please. I'm begging you. Take your Padawan and go somewhere else, somewhere where I don't know where you are. Because every time I see you, it kills me." She was openly sobbing now, and her whole body was shaking. "It's killing me, Qui-Gon. Please, go."

He watched, his body aching and his scars throbbing, as she left the balcony, down into the shadows and the darkness.


A/N: Please review, and tell me what you think! Syrtis has made more incredible fanart, and I bow before her amazing awesomeness! Again, check out my profile for the link to her latest fanart. xD

Questions: How will Obi-Wan react when he finds out about Qui-Gon and Ana? What is Zeijkk's plan? Can Qui-Gon and Ana actually have a happy ending?