Obi-Wan pulled his outer tunic down as the shuttle doors opened. His master was already starting forward, a wide smile on his face, and Obi-Wan hung back a little, watching the reunion. Knight Morai almost vanished into Master Jinn's robes when he swept her into an enthusiastic hug. After a moment, his master turned and beckoned Obi-Wan forward. "Bellan, this is my new Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, I'm sure you've heard me speak of my first apprentice, Knight Bellan Morai."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you, Knight Morai," he said.
She was only a little taller than him, and met his eyes coolly; he felt as though he was being inspected, and ran a nervous hand over his hair.
"I look forward to getting to know you better, Padawan Kenobi," she said. Master Jinn tugged on her long red braid. "So formal, all of a sudden," he said. "There's no need for that here, surely." He turned and started towards the Temple. "Come on, I've signed Obi-Wan out of philosophy today, so we'll have time for a nice lunch out of Temple. I thought we could go to Jelburri Plaza."
"That sounds wonderful," Knight Morai said, smiling at him. "I've been craving fire noodles for the last three weeks."
"Obi-Wan?" his master asked.
"Thank you, Master, I would enjoy that," he said. He'd rather eat the funny green stuff in the Jedi commissary than burn his tongue off eating fire noodles, but there was a sandwich shop on the other side of the plaza that he'd gone to a few times with Bant when he was an initiate.
"That settles it, then," Master Jinn said, pulling Knight Morai's pack off her shoulder and pushing it at a passing service droid. "Take this to Knight Morai's quarters, please," he said, and started off again as the droid beeped an acknowledgment.
They took a public transport to the Jelburri Plaza, a nearby shopping area popular among the Jedi. A number of small restaurants shared a common courtyard filled with tables and shaded by large containers of fragrant plants. They paused in front of the noodle shop, and Master Jinn gave Obi-Wan a credit chip.
"I know you aren't overly fond of spicy food, Padawan," he said. "Go get what you'd like for lunch and meet us back at that table." He pointed.
Obi-Wan clutched the chip. "Yes, Master, thank you," he said, bowing hastily for good measure, and he headed across the plaza to the sandwich shop on the other side. He lingered over the menu, wanting to get the chi'pora, but somehow he didn't think his master had trusted him alone so that he could buy a fried meat-and-cheese turnover. It was a Jedi's duty, after all, to fuel his body with good nutrition so as to be able to perform at his best.
He settled on a cold sandwich with enough vegetables to please even the strictest Jedi Master, added a bottle of fruit juice, and carried his meal over to the table, where his Master and Knight Morai were already seated.
"I'm sorry," he said, setting down his tray. "I didn't mean to make you wait."
"It's all right, Padawan," his master said. "No harm done."
Obi-Wan sat, waiting until his master and Knight Morai began eating before picking up his sandwich.
"So, Bellan," his Master said, "how much can you tell us about your mission to L'moth?"
She snorted. "As if you haven't wormed all the details out of Yoda by now," she said. "It wouldn't surprise me to learn you've seen every progress report I sent since I got there."
"Of course I have," Master Jinn said, chuckling. "But I want to hear the parts that don't make it into a report."
She rolled her eyes, but looked pleased nonetheless. "You're incorrigible, Qui-Gon," she said. "I supposed I might have a few stories I could tell." She gestured at Obi-Wan. "Most of them, though, you probably don't want to hear until later. I'd hate to corrupt virgin ears."
Obi-Wan was disappointed, and began to concentrate on making himself inconspicuous as Knight Morai began to tell a complicated story involving a smuggler and a shipping crate full of bath toys. If they forgot he was listening, Obi-Wan thought, perhaps Knight Morai would tell some of the stories that were deemed unsuitable for Padawan ears.
He listened raptly as his master and Knight Morai talked; the conversation soon turned from Padawan-safe anecdotes of missions to a complicated debate about the royal succession of a planetary system on the mid-rim that Obi-Wan was only vaguely familiar with. His master was gesturing expansively, grinning at Knight Morai as she argued with him, nearly poking him with a chopstick as she made a particularly vehement point.
Obi-Wan resolved to add another galactic politics class to his next term rotation.
He had finished his sandwich when his master pushed back from the table and declared himself in need of a mixed-berry ice, then headed across the plaza to the fruit-ice shop. Knight Morai watched Master Jinn cross the plaza, and turned to look at Obi-Wan. It was like looking into a glacier, and he knew, with a sudden, sinking dread, that Garen had been right. Without his master there to act as a buffer, she was free to turn her attention to Obi-Wan, and it was obvious that she had already judged him and found him unworthy of his apprenticeship, of his master's time... of the life he was living, when he should have been on some barren AgriCorps outpost getting wheat to grow in the desert.
"You must feel very neglected, sitting here all this time while your Master and I talked," she said.
He blinked. "No, ma'am," he said. "It was very interesting." Maybe, he thought, she would at least treat him with courtesy, as though he were a diplomat she didn't like but who wasn't worth the trouble to snub entirely.
She arched an eyebrow. "Surely you couldn't follow all of that," she said. "I think I would have heard if the Jedi were harboring a sociopolitical prodigy."
Obi-Wan felt his ears get hot. Of course he hadn't followed it, but he had wished he could. He fought to banish the telltale blush. "No, ma'am," he said. "But it made me want to understand it."
"An admirable goal, I'm sure," she said, "especially for one of your tender years." Obi-Wan found himself pressing backwards in his seat as though he could escape the disdain in her eyes. She obviously thought that he was trying to win points for himself with false enthusiasm, and he couldn't convince her otherwise without making himself look paranoid. His stomach hurt.
"You're thirteen?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And yet Qui-Gon only took you on as his Padawan six months ago? That's leaving it rather late, isn't it?"
Beneath the table, Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pant legs. He tried to keep his breathing even. "Yes, Knight Morai." This was it, then. She obviously knew about his history, about the Agri-Corps. Of course she knew; she was widely recognized as one of the finest undercover operatives in the Order. She had probably looked him up the moment she heard his name. She probably had a file of every fight he'd ever been in, every sparring match he'd ever lost, every test he'd ever failed. He tried to brace himself for what he knew was coming.
She leaned forward, her tone so soft he could scarcely hear her, but at the same time penetrating and cold with scorn. "And why was it left so late, Padawan Kenobi?"
He wanted to look away, but couldn't. He felt raw, as if all his skin had been torn away. She despised him; he could feel it. She wasn't even bothering to shield it from him. He wondered if she had come to convince his master to change his mind. Did failed Padawans go to the Agri-Corps, or were they cast out of the Order altogether? He couldn't remember ever hearing of such a thing. He wondered if she had already selected his replacement, some more talented initiate who would be worthy of Qui-Gon Jinn. "I--"
"Or perhaps the question should be why he chose you at all."
He stared at her, hot with shame, not letting himself blink for fear that the prickling behind his eyes would develop into tears. It was the truth, after all, and they both knew it; nothing more than any other Jedi had asked when they heard that Qui-Gon Jinn had snatched his latest apprentice right from the jaws of the Agri-Corps. "I know," he said at last, proud that his voice was fairly steady.
"So, Padawan Kenobi," she said. "What's the answer? Did he have a revelation at the eleventh hour? Or perhaps--"
"Bellan Morai!"
Obi-Wan started, and whirled around in his seat to see his master striding toward the table with a thunderous look on his face. He noticed with horror that his shields were slipping; he'd probably been broadcasting horribly over the training bond. He struggled to maintain at least a semblance of proper serenity.
His master reached the table and leaned over Knight Morai, who met his flashing eyes unflinchingly.
"What in the nine hells have you been saying to my Padawan?" Master Jinn demanded.
"We were discussing my studies, Master," Obi-Wan said, tightening his grip on his shields again. A near-failure he might be, but he was no crècheling needing protection from the truth. He cleared his throat. "Master," he said. "May I be excused?"
His master looked at him sharply, but nodded. "Of course, Obi-Wan," he said. "Try not to be too long."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan rose and hurried to the public freshers, his throat tight and eyes stinging. He just needed a little time to regain his composure, to shore up his shielding and release his emotions into the Force.
He bit his lip. Just a little time alone.
Qui-Gon watched silently as his apprentice walked towards the freshers. Kenobi's back was rigidly straight, his head high; Bellan had seen men walk to their executions with such a posture. As she watched, the wavering pulse of emotion that had been seeping off him vanished. Despite her misgivings, she was impressed; it was well done for a child of that age, especially one under such stress.
Kenobi vanished around a corner and Qui-Gon sat down beside her. She drew a steadying breath and turned; with an effort, she stopped herself from flinching at the look on his face. It had been a very long time since she'd seen him look so angry.
"You are going to tell me what you did to upset my apprentice," Qui-Gon said. "No prevarication."
"I asked him why you did not choose him for your Padawan until he was so old," she said flatly, refusing to be intimidated. There would be no averting the coming storm; she might as well tell him the worst at the outset. "I said that he must have shown some defect to cause you to wait for it to be corrected, or perhaps it was merely a lack of excellence on his part, though I was surprised that my master would take a pity Padawan when his dedication to excellence is so well known."
He closed his eyes, and his face grew very still. "You said these things to Obi-Wan?"
She recognized the tremble in his jaw that meant he was releasing large amounts of anger into the Force. "I said many of them and implied the others." She refused to look away. This was for Qui-Gon's own good, whether he could see it or not, and she would not be ashamed of protecting him.
Without opening his eyes, Qui-Gon spoke.
"Tell me why you did this."
"It had to be done," she said, feeling tension rising along her spine. She and Qui-Gon had been arguing for nearly twenty-five years, but they hadn't actually fought very much. She hated it.
"Ah, of course," said Qui-Gon. "Obviously I had overlooked the portion of the Code that instructs the Jedi to attack their children. Or is there something about Obi-Wan in particular that makes him deserve to be hurt?"
"It's not a matter of deserving it," she said, struggling to keep her voice as impassive as his own, trying to make him understand. "It's a matter of being sure that he can withstand the pressures of being Jedi. He'll suffer much worse hurts than that before he's Knighted, if he ever makes it that far."
"He will," Qui-Gon said. "I have every confidence."
"Well, I don't," she said bitterly, her voice strained. "I have no reason to."
"You have my word!" He leaned forward, pinning her with his gaze. "I know I'm not your partner or your Master anymore, but I thought you still had some respect for me."
She met his eyes squarely, craning her neck to see his face but not backing off. "This isn't a matter of respect," she hissed. "The last time I talked to you, Master, you were never going to teach again, and now you're willing to risk everything on some snip of a kid you pulled off the Agri-Corps shuttle. You're obviously not thinking clearly!"
He pulled back, glaring. "I fail to see how my decisions are any of your concern."
"You arrogant bastard." She leaned in, lowering her voice. She would not embarrass the Order by having a shouting match in the middle of Jelburri Plaza. "The years you were my teacher make it my concern," she said. "The years you were my partner, the years you were my friend, and the three years I just spent watching you eat yourself alive over Xanatos make it my concern! I will not let that happen again just because you can't resist a little Jedi washout with a pair of pleading eyes!" She caught her breath, almost a sob, and cursed her weakness. "I won't."
Something changed in Qui-Gon's face, and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Bellan," he said, and his voice was sad. "Have I hurt you so much in my grief?" He sighed. "Perhaps I shouldn't teach, if I continue to wound my students unknowingly."
She could feel him sending a calming pulse of the Force through their faded bond, and her anger receded. "You couldn't stop teaching if you wanted to, Qui-Gon," she said wearily. "That's what worries me so. You see a being that you think needs you and you'll throw everything away for it, regardless of whether your actions are wise or necessary or even desired. And I fear that in the end you'll throw away too much."
He took her hands, holding them gently between his own in the way that he had since she'd been fifteen and broken three fingers in a speeder accident. Even now, the warmth of his hands eased a tiny, almost-subconscious ache that had remained after the bones had been knitted. "Your concern honors me, Bellan," he said, voice soft. "But you do not need to protect me from Obi-Wan. He will not betray me."
"He's so young, Qui-Gon," she said, looking down at their hands. "How can you be sure?"
"I think that if you make an effort to get to know Obi-Wan, you'll be able to answer that question for yourself," he said. "He has been tested enough, Bellan. He deserves to be allowed to grow on his own time. Can you do this for me?"
She sighed. "You don't play fair. I hope you know that."
"Master i'Purna didn't spend eleven years teaching me how to be fair."
"No," she said, "that he didn't." She pulled her hands out from his, gently. "All right. You have my word. No more tests for now."
"Good," he said mildly, gesturing for her to sit down. "I brought you a cinnamon ice; you'll have to eat it on the transport. And you will be apologizing to Obi-Wan when he returns."
It would be moderately humiliating, she thought, but probably worth it to restore harmony with Qui-Gon. "Fair enough," she said, and removed the lid from her ice.
"In fact," said Qui-Gon, "here he is now. Obi-Wan, I brought you an ice."
"Thank you, Master," the boy said. Bellan looked at him sharply; the rims of his eyes were red, but he was calm and composed, his shields impeccable.
"Padawan Kenobi," she said, and he looked at her sharply, making an aborted movement towards Qui-Gon before drawing himself up sternly.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I find that I owe you an apology," she said. "I ought not to have spoken as I did; I seem to forget after so much time in the field that not everyone I meet is a subject for interrogation."
His eyes flicked to Qui-Gon and back before he seemed to relax a little, and offered her a very correct bow. "Your apology is accepted, Knight Morai," he said formally.
"Very good," said Qui-Gon. "Come, get your ices and let's go. We wouldn't want Obi-Wan to miss his saber class."