Three hours and forty nine minutes.

That was how long Ana had been gone. He had not followed her, not even tried to contact her through their mental link. He had lost his temper - again. They both needed time to cool down and regroup before seeing each other once more. But the more he thought about her, a tongue of anger flickered up inside him. That was not his Ana that he had seen, not the Ana he had trained and wooed to trust him, not the wildcat of a Padawan who had managed to drive away all of her friends save one. That was not the Ana who had tried to decapitate him with a wooden stick the first time they had sparred, not the Ana who had growled every time he mentioned her former Master, not the young girl who had tended Wathearu's garden with him, not the Padawan that could make him forget Xanatos, if only for a short time. The Ana that had been cooing endearments to Bu-Taan was so harshly, glaringly unlike her that he ran through a list of possible drugs that could cause such a reaction to her. He closed his eyes and leaned back on his sleeping couch, rubbing his temples slowly with the pads of his calloused fingers.

"I am not your Padawan! Master's understand their Padawans! You have no concept of me! Get away!"

Hurt, anger, and another emotion, simmering just below the surface, threatening to boil over and crash over him in a scalding eruption …

Jealousy.

Jealousy laced her tones, edging the words she had spat so bitterly at him. She wanted something she could not have, wanted something that was forbidden. But what was it? He wondered. Many things were forbidden by the Code, and it was perfectly natural for a young girl to desire material possessions, but something as trivial as that would not have caused the explosion last night. She had been trying to get his attention, that much was clear, and she had succeeded very well. She had perhaps gotten more of his attention than she had bargained for.

His sigh was the only sound in the spacious rooms for several more minutes.

09

It was almost two o'clock in the morning when he felt the Force shudder. A rippling tapestry of conflicting emotions, multi-layered and incomprehensible, flowed towards him, and he knew it was Ana. Only Ana could hold that many bewildering feelings in her mind and not completely implode. The door beeped once as she punched in the key code, and then it hissed open. Her entryway sounds, so familiar to him, began, the small rustling noises as she stripped off her outer robes and kicked off her Padawan boots without unbuckling them. She padded silently down the hallway, her eyes downcast, passing in front of the doorway to the room where he was sitting. He caught a quick glimpse of her and saw that she was dripping wet, her black hair plastered sleekly to the back of her neck, her inner tunic sticking to her. She paused for the barest hint of a moment, wanting with every fiber of her being to stop and throw herself at Qui-Gon and apologize, but her rigidly cold center curtly told her that she was being sentimental.

"Ana."

Rich, deep, low, the gravelly rumble echoing in the lowest regions of his growling baritone. Oh, Force, his voice made her melt. How could a human person make her voice do pirouettes, cartwheels, and high jumps, make it sound so maddeningly seductive, when it was only three letters long? How could he turn a plain name into something so soft and silky, like a velvet ribbon being stroked across damp skin? She stopped dead on the other side of the doorway, closing her eyes, willing herself not to follow through with her ridiculous plan. A shiver ran down her spine when the dying embers of her name faded and there was stillness in the room once more. She wanted him to say her name again, wanted him to say her name all sorts of different ways. She wanted to see how her voice would sound when he was satisfied, pleased, proud, laughing, joyful, uncomfortable, embarrassed, and a million and one other ways she couldn't even think of. She went into the room and knelt by his feet, tucking her own feet underneath her knees. Her hands lay in her lap, toying with the hem of her tunic as she mentally tasted the words she was about to say.

"I apologize."

Well, that's one way to say it, she said to herself with a mental eye-roll. She cleared her throat. "My behavior tonight was unacceptable. You were right; I acted in a manner unbefitting your Padawan." She made a movement as if to rise, and then he said it again.

"Ana."

Oh, how could he have so much control over her by just saying her name?

"Look at me."

She looked up hesitantly, dark green eyes flicking past the powerful, broad chest, the bearded chin, high cheekbones, regal profile, and finally locking with those tantalizingly dark, smoky blue-gray eyes. The exact color of a tempest tossed sea, foamy gray mixed with majestic royal blue, a unique color that suited him to perfection. He slid one finger under her chin and tilted it upwards a little more, letting the scant light from the holo-lamp catch the minute details of her forest green eyes, dark green with flecks of purest gold. For a minute they just stopped, frozen in each others eyes, wishing that the moment would never end and that there was no protocol, no Code, no barriers or laws. Nothing but each other. But reality ebbed slowly at the edges of Qui-Gon's consciousness, and when he had summoned up the stamina to pull away from her intoxicating eyes, he spoke, his voice very soft and deliberate. "Thank you. I accept your apology. Do not, under any circumstances, behave in that manner again."

Her eyes dropped, thoroughly chastised.

"Why did you behave the way you did?

"I was trying to make you jealous."

If she had suddenly announced that she was madly in love with an elderly bantha and that Qui-Gon was invited to the wedding, he could not have been more surprised. For an instant the shock showed in his face as the full realization flowed over him, like a pull of warm water.

The attraction was mutual.

No attachments.

Mutual.

Forbidden.

"Why?"

She groped for words like a hand in the darkness groping for light. Her mind fumbled fuzzily over various answers, then settled on the truth. "Because I do not see you as a Master. I never have, and I suppose I never will."

Once more their eyes met, stormy blue and forest green, rustically simple and beautifully complex.

"What do you see me as?"

Their tones dropped to hushed murmurs, unwilling to break the enchantment that had settled over the both of them like a warm blanket, keeping them safe from all harm and all reality. The fluffy dream they were living in was something that had been discovered since before Time and Space was created, the oldest, rawest, most powerful emotion ever to shake the foundations of the earth.

"I see you as a friend and a lover, and I suppose I always will."

"It is forbidden."

"I am past caring."

"You are looking for someone to replace Wathearu."

"You are nothing like my former Master." Soothingly complacent, calm, regarded. She had rehearsed this. He had been ambushed, his head was spinning. "I understand if my feelings are not reciprocated -" Finally, a crack in the calmness, peeling away to reveal the vulnerable Ana he had come to know. She lay bared beneath the layers of obsidian she had built up, and he saw how much energy and courage the admittance had taken out of her.

The clock on the table beeped, signaling the two o'clock hour. The spell shattered silently, and they both stood up. "We will speak of this in the morning."

Ana did not predict sleep that night in either quarters.

She was right.

09

A/N: I am very, very, VERY sick right now. Like lying in bed throwing up water sick. So I typed up this chapter really quickly, and I'm pretty sure there's more than a few typos. Enjoy, and, oh yeah…

*waves hand*

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