Ana did her best to disguise her impatience as Qui-Gon was halted yet again by another lazy Knight who had nothing better to do than strike up a long, wordy conversation about how long it had been since they had seen one another. Qui-Gon had been more than cordial to them, but Ana sensed he was also growing weary of the frequent pauses. It appeared that Qui-Gon was rather popular when he had a Padawan learner by his side. However, it was rare that a Knight would even glance at La'Ana; their attention seemed mostly focused on the broad-chested Jedi Master. Ana applied a careful mask of polite interest as Qui-Gon waded out of a very lengthy conversation with a squat toadlike alien who kept licking his eyeballs. When the Jedi had finally departed, Qui-Gon resumed his strident walk down the wide hallway. Ana, whose legs were long for her age, had difficulty keeping up with the confident gait of her Master. She realized that they were walking - Practically running, her mind said grumpily - down a corridor she had never been inside before. It was times like these that made her gape at how expansive the Jedi Temple was. Most of the Temple spread out underground like an intricate network of tree roots, and the slightly slanted floors told Ana that they were continuing underneath the foundation of the Temple.

It might have been three minutes or three seconds, for Ana was once again lost in her thoughts, but before she knew it Qui-Gon was opening a door with his palm. There was a rather dusty and remarkably unused palm scanner by the door; it beeped feebly as it recognized Qui-Gon's distinctive handprint. Ana distantly marveled at how large Qui-Gon's hand was. The scanner almost didn't fit. Her thoughts flew like startled birds from her mind when she saw the monstrosity of a room they had just entered. It wasn't just wide or long, but it was impossibly high. The ceiling stretched above them, half hidden in ghostly shadows. There were several strange looking vaults and ladders that were assembled in preparation for them, including what looked like a spring board sixty feet in the air. Ana felt fear clamp down on her stomach, and she automatically released it into the Force. Wathearu had been particularly firm on her fear of heights, and had used this fear against her at almost every opportunity. Ana had sparred with Wathearu on a mountaintop that had a two hundred foot drop surrounding a postage stamp sized dueling arena; he had enrolled her in Dewback flying courses (one word: disaster), all in an attempt to cure her fear of heights. It hadn't worked, but she had learned very quickly to dispel her psychical fears into the Force with extreme rapidity.

Qui-Gon went over to one side and began shedding layers. The cool air of the temple assaulted his bare chest as he stripped off his inner tunic and piled it on top of his outer robe. A quick glance over at Ana concreted the suspicion he had obtained about her fear of heights. Her dark green eyes were fixed on the springboard sort of contraption that hung sixty feet in the air, and he could taste a flicker of the fear that she dispelled into the Force. He had explained his idea to Mace Windu and had been greeted with a suggestion that Qui-Gon had lost his mind. He knew it was a reckless and slightly crazy idea, but if it worked it would help Ana's fear of heights, and her fear of trusting people. Ana flushed when she realized that Qui-Gon had been watching her, ready for a day of training. A tiny corner of her mind that seemed to have sprouted there, unbidden, overnight, told him that his exposed chest was rather handsome. The coal lump that had nestled next to her heart snapped a lid on that particular jar of her mind. She slid out of her outer robe and tossed it to the floor, then pulled her inner tunic over her head.

There was an unexpected and rather foreign flip in Qui-Gon's stomach as he caught a glimpse of her smooth stomach as she pulled her tunic over her shoulder then threw it to the floor. His brow creased slightly as he tried to examine the flip, but now was not the time for meditation. She was dressed as she had been yesterday, brown leggings and white breast bindings, but her face wasn't pinched into an angry scowl this time. When her face was mostly relaxed - she was still rather uncertain about why they were here - her face was rather pretty. She wouldn't win any beauty contests, for her cheeks were rather too full and her cheekbones too high, but her lips were rosebuds, formed into a perpetual pout that gave her the look of a sulking toddler. He snapped out of his thoughts when she folded her arms and flicked a glance at him. "Climb the ladder, please," he said, but there was a ring of a command in it despite the last word. Ana gave him a doubtful look and began scaling the ladder that led to the springboard.

She was extremely high, extraordinarily high, and her stomach felt as though she had just swallowed several frantically flapping butterflies. She peeked over the edge of the springboard and saw the ground of the room - looking very hard and unforgiving - grinning toothily up at her. She jerked her head back and her grip on the handles became decidedly tighter and more sweaty. "Now what?" she asked. If it was Master Wathearu, he would ask her to visualize herself on the ground and relax herself. She tried this, but the image of the compacted floor kept flashing in her mind; for the first time, she cursed her vivid imagination. She could just see in her mind's eye her body, broken and bloody on the ground, spread eagled on the floor. She shut her eyes tightly and clung harder to the post, trying vainly to send her fear into the Force. Qui-Gon then told her to do the most ridiculous and stupidest thing she had ever done in her life.

"Jump."

Ana plugged a finger in one ear and wiggled it around. Perhaps the fear was making her deaf. "What did you say?" she called down, her voice sounding pathetically tremulous, even to her. When he answered her, there was a definitely softer edge to his tone.

"I said jump." Qui-Gon said. "I'll catch you."

"Forgive me for not believing you," Ana shouted, gripping the handles harder. "But I have no intention of dying, thanks." She stole another glance at the floor and swallowed hard. Qui-Gon's answer was an implacable silence, and she knew he wouldn't let her down until she had jumped. But was he crazy? Jumping from this height would certainly kill her, and if he did manage to react quickly and catch her using the Force, there was no way Ana was going to hang her hopes on the abilities of a man she had only known for three days. She couldn't. Wouldn't. Shouldn't. Her mind spun crazily as she took another glance at the floor, and then scrapped up every fleeing shard of courage that had been packed into her small body. She jumped.

There was that utterly horrifying moment when her brain realized what she had done, and she opened her mouth to scream. Just like that, an invisible hand caught her firmly and she landed on a transparent sheet of air. Slowly, oh so slowly, she was lowered to the ground. Ana's heart did not stop erratically doing the tango until she felt the ground with her fingertips, and then fell the two inches onto the floor. She lay there for a moment, her head spinning, still unable to believe she had just survived a sixty foot drop, and that she had done so willingly. She got to her feet, dusting her hands off, and mentally wondered what she looked like right now. She probably looked frightened out of her mind.

Qui-Gon smiled at her warmly and risked patting her on the back. He caught her almost-imperceptible flinch; apparently Ana did not like contact with other people. Well, she would have to get used to it. Her dark green eyes were rather wild, and her mop of dark curls were frizzy and damp at the temples. She was quite scared with the thought of doing it again. "Climb the ladder," he commanded, and she gave him a look of utter shock and panic.

"Again?" she said disbelievingly. He wanted her to flirt with suicide again? Had her Master gone completely out of his mind? What was he trying to accomplish?

I am trying to get you to trust me.

The intrusion on her mind was so familiar that for a fraction of a second she welcomed it. Master Wathearu had used the mental link almost continuously, saying it was the best way to deepen the bond between Master and Padawan. But the deep baritone that informed her of his devious plan was not the dry rasp of her former master. Ana's shields flared to life, and Qui-Gon felt his consciousness being rudely shoved out. There was no reason to yell at him; a mental link between a Master and his apprentice was a perfectly natural thing, and it showed a healthy relationship. But right now Ana felt anything but healthy. Her black stump that was beginning to grow into a sapling next to her heart was poisoning her thoughts. She wanted Qui-Gon to train her, to complete her teaching, but she did not want in any way to become attached to him. Master Wathearu would approve of her completion of her training, and he would probably swell with pride when she became a Knight, but in her mind he would never allow her to become friends with a man she hardly knew. "You can't get people to trust you by invading their minds, Master Jinn," she said, wielding his title like a barbed weapon. "I would thank you to remain out of my thoughts for the time being."

I am not in your mind. You are in mine.

Ana's eyes widened, and she saw the deep-seated amusement in Qui-Gon's smoky blue eyes. She gathered the threads of her thoughts and found that he was correct; the bond she had shared with Master Wathearu had been desperate for another Master, even though every atom of Ana's body resisted it. Her subconscious thirsted for her training to continue, to share the closeness, the intimacy, the friendship she had had with Master Wathearu. She took a step backwards and when she spoke, her voice was flinty. "I apologize. We shall keep out of each other's thoughts then."

I wouldn't be too sure of that.

Cheeky devil. Now he was in her mind. Get out! she ordered him. I told you no. And no means no, right?

This rule does not apply to the matter we are supposed to be discussing.

Oh, and what matter would that be, great and wise Qui-Gon?

Ah, that's better. Although 'cheeky devil' might be closer to the mark.

Will you get to the point? She was using an inexcusable tone of voice, but he really was chafing her. Ana didn't notice that the two of them were standing perfectly still in the practically deserted room.

The point of this exercise is to get you to trust me.

How can forcing me to throw myself off a sixty foot springboard ignite trust in anyone?

Because you have to trust that I will catch you, Padawan. He felt her recoil almost involuntarily. Her scowl was sharpened, and she turned on her heel and marched to the ladder. He watched her haul herself arm over arm until she was at the springboard; this time, there was no hesitation. She threw herself off the board and prepared herself to be caught. The scowl on her face had intensified until she looked like she was prepared to take a bite out of someone. Once more she was caught and once more she landed gently on the floor. She got up and rubbed her eyes.

"Do you trust me yet?" Qui-Gon asked. She gave him a long, evaluating look.

"Physically." she answered. "But not quite, no. Why?"

"Because I wished to ask you a question." he said simply. She turned her back on him and went over to the pile of clothing she had made earlier. Yanking her tunic firmly over her head, she fastened the ties on her sleeves and looked at him for a long moment.

"What." she asked. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It was more of a challenge, come to think of it. He knew she wouldn't answer his real question yet, so he fell back to his secondary one, the one he knew would relax her, if only marginally.

"What was Master Wathearu like?" he asked, tugging on his under tunic. The jar in the back of Ana's mind pointed out that she was slightly sad to see those rippling muscles and tanned expanse of broad chest go. The black stump locked the lid to the jar and threw away the key. She fastened her outer robes around her waist and put her hands in her pockets, fingering the two smooth pebbles once more.

"Everybody liked him," she said quietly. "All of the Knights and the Council respected him, and the Padawans adored him. He could tell amazing stories, hold the most hilarious meditation meetings you would ever know, and could tell the most fascinating stories." she turned her head to the side as if to examine some particularly interesting part of the blank wall, and Qui-Gon knew she was forcing back tears. "He was…an unusual Master. Padawans would vie for his attention, and he would give it, yet you always had some slight superiority to them. His techniques were varied, to say the least. I had never sufficiently grasped his idea of the Living Force, so he would try all sorts of things to get me to meditate."

Qui-Gon's gaze sharpened and his smoky blue eyes grew darker with interest. "Why did you cut your Padawan braid?" he asked. He felt her tense like an angry cat, all of her muscles going taut.

"Because I did not want another Master. I did not want to be Padawan to anyone except Wathearu." she answered. She knew his question before he asked. "And no, I'm not growing it back."