Alright, sorry for the wait, here it is . . . (Next chapter will be posted soon as in in the next few days or so) Enjoy!

For as long as he could remember, Obi-Wan had always seemed to have the strangely consistent ability of persuasion.

As a youngling, he had learned quickly that a few phrases he would say could guarantee him what he desired. "Refresher" would allow him to escape a long or boring lesson, instantly whisked to the nearest one, for he had still been learning to use it then.

"Fire" he had learned when the Temple's cafeteria had experienced a small stove fire, and he would point in that direction if near so, which would usually send his Crèche Master running there and leaving him and his clan to run about on their own.

As an Initiate, he would usually explain to the Master teaching him if he did not finish a project in a certain deadline that he had been "meditating"; it had worked every time, despite the dismay of his classmates at their frequent failed attempts. Maybe it had simply been the innocence about him, but he had taken it in stride, using it only when absolutely necessary.

Now, in his Padawanhood, negotiation was becoming an attribute to Obi-Wan, "as simple as sneezing" as Garen would say with a grin, helpful during missions with stubborn souls or indignant personalities. A steady monotone and harsh gaze to convince a headstrong leader, or a sideways smile and particularly gentle lilt to his voice to seduce a woman into doing what he wished. Without fail, they would do his bidding.

Though, to Obi-Wan's constant annoyance, there was one whom he could not, had never, and never believed he could ever negotiate with. Someone so stubborn, persuasion was as useless as trying to blow over a duracrete wall, as irritating sometimes as nails on a chalkboard, as opinionated as a senator and as wilful as the wind.

And that person was Siri Tachi.

"I don't want to debate about it anymore. It is not a question anyway, I suppose."

"But it is a decision, one I won't let you make. So you can kiss your silly little catch phrases and negotiation skills all the way to Tatooine, because I'm not changing my mind, Kenobi."

"You can't change your mind on something I decided -"

"I decided that you can't decide, especially since you won't even tell me where you're going."

"I said I can't."

"Right. Yet again, you have unsuccessfully fooled me. Don't be so stubborn, Obi-Wan.

"Me? Stubborn? You've been arguing with me for an hour and you are calling me stubborn?!"

"Don't talk to me in that tone! If your Master were here he would not be pleased with you. I've decided your not going anywhere until you tell me, and that's final -"

"You're only fourteen. I am older, and thus can make my own decisions."

Siri waggled a finger at him like a disiplining Master, shifting in the chair beside his cot to lean closer to him, "I'm in charge of you. My Master said so. I said no."

Obi-Wan kept his eyes forward, harsh lights still scalding sore eyes, on the face of his comrade aside him, catching Siri's deepened blue eyes, the blonde strands of hair feathering her forehead and veiling her gaze slightly, and not daring to blink. The gentle dimness of the Healing Halls was silent about them though they quarrelled fairly audibly. The soothing morning hours did nothing to ease Obi-Wan, still peeved by the fact he was injured enough to be in there in the first Padawan Healer Sone dabbled around them, checking blood pressure, taking blood, monitoring monitors. He was quiet, like usual, and had decided from the start not to get involved between the two for obvious reasons.

Obi-Wan was surprised his readings were still constant. His blood boiled hotter than his mild fever, and equally thick. He could not let Siri see how aggravated he was, though, or else she would use it against him. Obi-Wan had always had a quick temper, and he fought to keep it at bay. He had no time for this.

Siri took a bite of the fruit she munched on for breakfast. Her young face was smooth with an unwavering spirit, one Obi-Wan admired as well as despised. She continued to watch him tauntingly as she spoke, "I'm tired of arguing for now. So, onto another topic: how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Don't think I've given up on leaving, either." Obi-Wan fought his voice calm enough to speak, shifting his arm in the sling across his chest. He eyed the sweet fruit coldly, "Are you just eating that to bother me?"

"Maybe. You can't eat for at least . . . eight hours. It's only six anyway, and your anesthesia will make you sick -"

"I know." Obi-Wan puffed, his stomach growling for not the first time, "Maybe if you just let me leave -"

"Sone told me you flatlined last night." Siri said in a pleased tone, an Sone nodded to Obi-Wan and said softly, "You have some broken ribs, so take it easy on the whole breathing thing. Your Master said to tell you not to worry."

He only nodded back, annoyed. He licked his lips, the stale and equally awful taste of bacta still present there, but he didn't show anything on his face as he spoke then, to Siri, "Where's Qui-Gon? You said he would be back soon."

"That's what he told me, but Master Jinn's clocks always run slow, you of all people know that. I'm stuck here taking care of you, reluctantly I might add, as I have been for the past . . . four hours." Siri yawned dramatically, "You are even less exciting when you're asleep, Padawan Kenobi."

"Taking care of me?" Obi-Wan squinted as Siri flicked on a bedside glow lamp, allowing him to see clearly her passive expression; he hated being watched after by Siri Tachi. If he did one thing out of place the whole Temple would hear of it, "More like killing me slowly."

"Hey! Don't think I want to be here anymore than you do. I'd rather be out with my Master, saving the day as usual, finding the missing Senator in the lower levels and restoring justice."

"And instead they left you on babysitting duty?" Obi-Wan winced as Sone poked at a bruise on his forehead.

Siri's mouth hardened to a stubborn line of denial, "They left you, Obi-Wan. Master Qui-Gon knew you could not possibly handle the mission anymore."

"He said that?" The words were dry and cold as Obi-Wan repeated them to himself, an equally cold bitterness along with it. So that was how his Master felt about it. "You lie."

Siri shook her head innocently, "He was not as concerned about leaving you as I thought he'd be, considering you were close to terminal not more than eight hours ago, but that's Master Jinn. Still, not sure why he did it . . ."

Obi-Wan drew inward as Siri continued her rant, realizing why, recalling again the events of the night former. He could remember vaguely the events of the night, and even less the ones of that morning. His Master had been with him during the long speeder ride to the Temple the night prior, when he had first awoken to pain and darkness and the haggard face of his Master who whispered to him soothingly before he had slipped unconscious again quickly, and in the Healing Halls, even if most of the time Obi-Wan merely sensed his presence.

After what had occurred, Qui-Gon had every right to be upset with him still, but the sting of disappointment felt just as sharp as it had then. He had thought his Master trusted him, or at least would accept his humility about the misunderstanding, but Qui-Gon did not seem all too forgiving, especially by leaving Obi-Wan behind. It isn't like I broke any rules, Obi-Wan told himself, except for drawing from Qui-Gon in the Force, but that had been necessary; it not like I had been trying to seduce the girl. The loss of Qui-Gon's presence mad him nervous still, feeling shaken from last nights scare, and the Padawan continued even then to be calm. Or at least tried to.

At some point during the dawn, Sone had taken him to the bacta tank, dressed his wounds, and put him in another healing trance, for when he had awoke Siri had been standing vigil beside him, and of all the people to wake up to, she was not on the top of his list. Obi-Wan, by that time, had recalled everything that had occurred, the club, the mission, and his encounters, including his promise to a certain musician.

He knew he would have to get out of the Healing Halls somehow to fullfill it.

His problem? Siri Tachi, the unpursuasable. His always coy, cool fellow protege was looking tired then, nearly as tired as Obi-Wan felt, but he sensed her wit was bright. She had never, in all his years of knowing her, had nothing to say, that was for sure; they rarely ever conversed without bickering. She refused to let him leave the Halls after he had requested seven times. They had been in intense "conversation" over it for a steady hour. Obi-Wan wished it were anyone else but Siri with him. Then again, he wished she would simply let him go, but things never seemed to be simple for him anymore.

With his frustration, mingled, he felt a faint joy at the thought of Miss Morro again and wasn't sure which emotion outweighed the other. How had he forgotten her at all? A smile found his lips as he remembered her all at once, his chest warming a bit. Obi-Wan wasn't sure why he even felt such by simply thinking of her, and knew he had to see her again if only to ensure his memory was as true and wonderful as it seemed. Her soft auburn hair and bright emerald eyes, the simple gift of her earring -

"Her earring." Obi-Wan uttered before he could stop, and Siri halted her banter and shot her eyes to his still slightly smiling face. He vanished his grin and sent his own gaze to his hands resting in his lap, tensed around each other. What had he done? Fool, fool, always the fool . . .

The monitors around them beeped a few times. Siri paused mid-chew. Sone halted amidst a flip on his chart. They were all silent for another beat before Siri finally asked, slowly and incredulously, "Whose earring?"

"The . . . the, um, an . . . ah -"

"Stop stuttering like a youngling, Obi-Wan!" Siri reprimanded and swatted his arm, "What earring are you talking about?"

"Ouch! I do have a shoulder sprain, if you don't recall . . ." Obi-Wan rubbed his arm self-soothingly, giving Siri a glare which she returned just as serious and hit him again, and he said between his teeth and through a stifled groan, "Siri!"

"Yes, Padawan Siri . . . please, his condition is fragile." Sone addressed the shoulder gently, "I'll get you some more gauze, Padawan Kenobi." He turned to retrieve some from the cabinets behind them.

Siri leaned closer to him and spoke in hushed whisper in Sone's absence, "Just tell me then, and I'll stop!"

Obi-Wan fought the urge to strike her back as he stroked his shoulder, pursing his lips and thinking quickly of what he was to say. How could he explain that a musician at a nightclub gave it to him as a temporary present, and for what reason? A token of gratitude would not suffice, neither would a farewell gift. It had been so much more than that, at least it had felt that way, a shared warmth bright and new. Obi-Wan tried to deny anything else, but his heart still skipped a bit at her name. How could he say anything about it subtly? Whatever he said, Siri would instantly assume he was attracted to her . . .

Obi-Wan swallowed at the thought. Was he?

"Coruscant to Kenobi, repeat, Coruscant to Padawan Kenobi, come in Kenobi . . ." Siri raised he hand for another blow, and Obi-Wan winced as he replied quickly.

"Alright, alright, don't get touchy." He forced himself to continue, speaking quickly to end the moment, "It was a gift from someone at the nightclub."

Siri didn't even flinch.

"I'd think they'd be considerate enough to give you a pair," She held out her hand and opened it, revealing the cerulean gem tangled in a mess of silver and placing it in Obi-Wan's palm.

Obi-Wan glared at her, "You knew?"

"They found this with you when you where admitted."

"Where?"

"In your hand. They nearly had to pry it out. I'm just wondering who would be willing to give away such an expensive looking piece of jewelry."

Siri looked to him astutely, but Obi-Wan kept his head raised, "A musician."

Siri scoffed, raising blonde brows in skepticism, "What, do all performers carry extra earrings?"

"What?"

"Who gives away their earring?" She stifled a laugh badly, "She must be one . . . ditzy performer."

"For your information, she's not ditzy." Obi-Wan was quick at her defense, but was bothered enough by Siri's teasing laughter not to notice, "She's smart. If not as smart as you."

"I'd like to see . . . that proven." Siri wiped teary eyes, still chuckling lightly, "Why . . . did she give you it then?"

"To remember her by." Obi-Wan imagined her small, soft hand placing the jewel in his own, "As a token."

"I'm surprised she could forget such a dashing Jedi as you, Obi-Wan. Why, don't you remember the time you fell into the Crèche's toy bin while trying to carry those lunch trays last week?"

"You told me to go left-"

"Or what about when you tried to prove to Garen you could balance along that fountain and you fell in head first after your third step?"

"You two set me up - you made the edge slippery -"

"The time you ran into the door of your chambers?"

"It was dark -"

"The one time you referred to me as 'Siri-ous' -"

"That was Garen and it was true -" Obi-Wan held up his hand as Siri opened her mouth again, drawing out his first word, "And . . . your point is proven."

Siri sat back in her chair, tossing the pit of her fruit from hand to hand with a slight, sly smile. Obi-Wan set his tone stonily, seeing her mischief as clear as her eyes were blue, "What now?"

"You're going to go see her. That's why you want to leave so badly."

Siri raised her eyebrows and Obi-Wan furrowed his own. Why was she always so delighted at making him so mad?

"I promised her. That's the only reason why." Obi-Wan forced back any other reason with a swallow, "I have to return her earring."

"And that's all you'll do? No funny business?"

The friendship between them prevented any hard feelings, the bickering mostly like that of siblings. Obi-Wan knew Siri would not tell on him, but would not be quiet about it with him either. It was a compromise, he supposed.

"Nothing."

"Alright. I trust you, but if I'm to let you go you have to do one thing." Siri let her voice drop, folding her arms shrewdly, "Enlighten me, if you may, Obi-Wan, on the fact of how you managed to get trampled, because clearly this is a story that Garen and Bant and the rest of the Padawan's deserve to know, as do I especially."

Her humor did not amuse him then, as it rarely did. At least she was negotiating. He looked to her passively, "I was shoved off of a balcony overhanging a mob, two stories high they said it was, and after that I was trampled."

"Good one. I detect lies like a rancor smells fear," Siri smirked, and Obi-Wan managed his no nonesense face.

"You of all people know I only aim to tell the truth."

"You've always had bad aim, Kenobi."

Siri waited, and he sighed before continuing, knowing she'd only pester him until he did. If he truly wanted to escape scot-free, he would have to revisit his experience, as chilling and fresh as it was, "I was trying to eliminate our contact after sensing him in the Force, and I was caught up in a crowd. People were screaming and shoving and firing blasts, and I was distracted for a moment. That was all it took, and I was underneath everything."

Obi-Wan's voice trembled then, and he closed his eyes. His voice was thin and delicate like porcelain as he spoke, as if wary of breaking inside, "Everything was . . . I couldn't move, and . . ."

He laid back and swallowed. He hid a shudder at the thoughts of the throng, all feet and no oxygen, his unheard cries, against the cold permacrete that scraped against his face from the footfalls, strained and coarse. His bones snapping and skin chafing and the stench of alcohol and stone filling his nose and chocking him. The puddles of dirt drowning him, along with insistent tears like that of the little girl's who had cried for her mother, but that he had for his Master -

Obi-Wan's thoughts suddenly dizzied him as he opened his eyes, alarm stabbing like a blade. Siri noticed the change in an instant, and was even quicker to rise and exclaim, "Obi-Wan? What's wrong?! Sone! Sone -"

Siri's face blurred and doubled. The lights were very harsh. He felt flush. He knew what was going to happen.

Obi-Wan arose as a wave of nausea hit him hard in the gut, his body wrenching forward painfully as he heaved. He hadn't eaten in hours, so he only rejected the thin contents of his stomach fluids into the bedpan on his lap that Siri had fumbled around for just in time.

He was paranoid, he must have been. What else could explain the fear that still gripped his heart, mingled with desperation, or the hot terror that raced through his mind? As Obi-Wan retched, he realized this, and grew even more fearful, then of the fear itself. He could never continue his training with such an impairment, and he could not live with himself if such became so.

After a few moments of sickness he forced himself to calm, and stilled. He coughed and spit, breathing heavily again. Steady, young one, he imagined his Master whisper while rubbing his back, steady now. Obi-Wan figured Qui-Gon saying also to forget the problem and find the solution, with a gentle encouraging smile. If he still respected me, he finished, and he swallowed things away.

Sone suddenly appeared at Obi-Wan's hunched form then, his rusty orange skin accented by blue-grey patterns traced along his face sheen with sweat. He flipped through his chart and examined him and checked monitors and spoke simultaneously, "Padawan Kenobi, is your ability to hear me clear, muffled or blocked?"

Obi-Wan winced and raised his hand to his eyes as Sone leaned and shone his finger laser in them, "Sone -"

"Are you experiencing any dry mouth, vision loss or slurred speech?"

This time Siri spoke as she extended a small cup of water to Obi-Wan, which he took and rinsed with slowly, "Sone, give him a break-"

"Who's the chancellor? How many fingers am I holding? Do you know where you-"

"Shut it you nerf-headed twirp!"

Sone stared at Siri and she glared back. He swallowed, tucking his light into the front pocket of his robe, "Right, got it."

"Now, Obi-Wan will be fine. I'm taking him to his quarters." Siri extended her hand to Obi-Wan, and he looked to it confused. She shot him a glare form the corner of her eye and motioned her fingers for him to take it. Was she . . . helping him? Siri leaned closer, taking the bedpan in one hand, but her lips met his ear and whispered quickly, "Go along with me if you want to get out of here, because if we don't do it now he'll keep you in here until you're a vegetable."

"A vegetable -" Obi-Wan was pulled with a yelp by Siri's strength to swing his legs off of the bed, seeing Sone shake his head madly and take to his side, "No, no, Siri listen, Master Vale said Obi-Wan cant even walk for a week, let alone -"

"Get him a wheelchair, then."

A wheelchair? Obi-Wan looked to her with pleading eyes, but she stood indignant. Sone wrung his hands around each other but complied, whispering to himself as he fumbled around in another section of the ward. Soon, Obi-Wan was helped inside and Siri pushed him out of the Halls as naturally as possible, though they received as many strange looks as dirty ones on their fast escape. As they entered the openness of the Temple, Siri wheeled him as close to the exit as she could, a flight of stairs leading up to it, and stood before him. In her hands was his cadet uniform, cleaned and pressed, and Obi-Wan was truly dumbfounded. He met her eyes, his voice expressing his disbelief.

"No criticism intended, but why in the galaxy are you being so nice to me?" He asked, taking the outfit in his free hand. Siri bit her lip, "Well, pity would be a sensible answer, but you know even I'm not that cruel."

She smiled genuinely, morning light making it seem even more true, "You told me the truth. That in itself is to be rewarded."

"But . . . I'm breaking the rules."

"What rules? Obi-Wan, if you don't look for things how are you ever going to find them?"

Siri folded her arms, the roar of traffic behind her tempting. He could not possibly turn away then. A promised made is kept, as Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan had no intention of breaking that rule. What if his Master found out? He was putting himself in a precarious position, and knew so, but subtly cared.

He glanced down to the jewell in his palm, glittering in the morning sunlight, and squeezed it gently. Miss Morro was waiting, and he would meet her.

With a sigh of defeat, Obi-Wan wheeled himself forward, Siri stepping aside as he went to the ramp and began up and out. He heard her cry to him as he reached the top and looked down on her, "Also, when you get in trouble for this, I'll be the first to know!"

"Thank you for your continued support!"

"You're very welcome, Obi-Wan!" Siri laughed as she strolled away slowly, "You're very welcome."

Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated! :)