I apologize in advance for the probably excessive angst (too many chapters of) and this clff-hangar, though to make up for the long delay between the last chapter and the one before, I'm posting this chpater AND the next close together since I've got them uploaded to the doc manager. Next update Monday or Tuesday.

Chapter 12. The Path Once So Clear

Obi-Wan was dreaming.

Of Paradise.

He had heard of paradise, here he thought he had found it.

The grass had been soft under his feet, a blanket of green stretching as far as he could see. The food had been put away and they had hoisted packs, ready to explore.

Already he had discovered how much life existed in such simple surroundings. Birds chirped and unseen animals rustled vegetation. The occasional insects buzzed by. After a time he had come to believe that just maybe he could sense the life in the grasses, the flowers and the trees.

He had even come to appreciate the rain and the wind, for without either, animal and plant life would not even exist, nor even the appreciation of a warm sun and a soft breeze.

There he had begun to truly understand the subtle beauty and intricacy of the Living Force, there at the side of the man who connected to it best of them all.

It had been one of the most mind-expanding lessons of his life and perhaps the happiest. The final connection had been woven: he, his master, and the Force. He knew now where he belonged.

If he were ever lost, he knew now how to find his way. All he had to do was look – and to see.

He was lost; he knew that, so he again looked.

It was another bright and sunny day with a few fluffy white clouds drifting across a deep blue sky and for a moment he could almost again inhale the sweet, heady perfume of flowers in full bloom. The only thing missing was the grass under his feet: Obi-Wan blinked and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

This was not that time, that time in the past he recalled so fondly. He lay abed: this view was of out there, beyond the window – of Naboo.

It wasn't just the day that sparkled so brightly under the warm sun: Naboo and indeed the capital city of Theed itself once more sparkled with gaiety and color, for the souls of those recently oppressed and occupied soared free after liberation. Bedraggled and ignored, baskets of flowers once more bloomed under the tender fingers of gardeners, who could now tend to other than mere survival.

Theed teemed with life, out there.

How similar in many respects, then and now was. A reminiscent smile tilted the corners of his mouth before fading, for he saw the dissimilarity as well - this time he did not feel the Force, Living or otherwise, and the man who had let him find his own way to the lesson had now left him for another.

The path once so clear was no longer his, though the lesson remained.

This time he would have to seek knowledge on a path of his own choosing, one without his mentor and perhaps – perhaps one without the Force.

His lips quivered before he clamped down. He would not feel sorry for himself.

He might be a Jedi in name only, but by the Force he would behave as a Jedi, willing to face life's challenges without fear or doubt. He would let the full truth of that lesson years ago surface once more. Life existed – the Force existed in all things, even those things Force-blind.

As he now was.

But acceptance came slowly, not in one fell swoop. It would take time and work, with steps forward and steps back. He could see the existence of that which he could no longer feel; yearn all he wished, it was beyond his grasp. Gone…all gone.

Sight had fled him, no matter how hard he now looked.

He pinched his nose, tired of the tears that burned inside. He didn't want to dwell on his loss. Others had losses as well; they survived and they adapted.

The blind still sang, the lame created verses, the deaf parented their children. He still had five senses, if once he had had six.

But I live a life that needs all six! His heart cried inside – and his mind agreed.

He sighed once more. Who was the pathetic life form now, if not himself? Focusing on his losses only diminished how much he had left.

A quiet knock against the open door brought Obi-Wan's eyes back from the window, startled, for once he would have known someone was there, perhaps who as well. Now he was taken unaware with no chance to hide behind a stoic Jedi mask.

"I am sorry I was right that day– the Jedi was the one in need of assistance." The Queen, only this was Padmé – no makeup, no entourage, just a young lady dressed informally - stood at the door, a wide smile on her face. "I startled you; I am sorry. May I come in, Padawan Kenobi?"

"Of course, Milady." He surreptitiously brushed a hand across his eyes, just in case. In a pale imitation of his usual greeting, he swept a hand in a grand gesture inviting her to enter rather than bow as courtesy would normally require.

"I'm informal today – call me Padmé, if you will." Even her smile was that of Padmé, not the Queen.

"Obi-Wan, then. Padmé."

"Obi-Wan it is. I rather enjoyed the few opportunities we had to speak on the ship – your observations on how nonplussed if not absolutely horrified a totally hive-oriented culture which knew nothing of independent thought would be if suddenly transported into the middle of even a dull Senate debate were quite droll. I hadn't known Jedi had such a well-developed sense of humor."

Obi-Wan found it easy to relax in her presence, to enjoy just a simple friendly conversation. He'd had little opportunity of late, though on the ship he had managed to find opportunities to socialize and divert his mind from the strain in his relationship with Qui-Gon.

He offered his own warm smile in return.

"We rarely display our individuality other than among ourselves; we are as varied in opinions and tastes as any other group of sentient beings. Only when fully attuned to the Force do we usually find near unanimous agreement -," he swallowed as his words hit him and finished lamely, "usually."

Sympathetic eyes studied him. For a non-Jedi, she was perceptive; too much so. She might not know the reason for the discord between the two Jedi on the ship, but she had been quite aware of it despite her apparent ignorance. She was as tactful as wise, kind as well. She reminded him of Bant.

"Such individuality raises my opinion even higher of the Jedi, then." At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "It is easy for those who know the Jedi only as semi-mythic beings to think of them as apart from other sentient beings, near-gods or mere magicians. Your Order should squabble more amongst yourselves – you might be even more highly regarded."

Her grin followed his.

"May I be present when you make that suggestion to Master Yoda or Master Windu? I shall take care to remain out of range of either Master Yoda's gimer stick or Master Windu's glare."

Padmé giggled.

"I adore Master Yoda, though he is bit cryptic isn't he? Master Windu, though – that man does know how to frown, does he not, even at his most courteous. And Qui-Gon is simply Qui-Gon – Ani adores him."

Just like that, reality intruded.

"They adore each other," he agreed. Had he betrayed himself? Something had flickered in her eyes that might have been sympathy.

"'The Queen' has not had a chance to express her thanks and appreciation for all that the Jedi has done for Naboo, so allow me to say on her behalf," she winked, "thank you, Padawan Kenobi."

He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "We require no thanks for we only did our duty."

"You said this was the first time you had to take a life…that must weigh heavy on you." Her hand lay on his arm, warm and comforting. "I – don't know what to say. To say I am glad it was not I seems so, well," she shrugged, "insensitive, perhaps."

"It is a possibility that all Jedi have to face and few do. I would do so again were it necessary, and with the same regrets. My master…Master Yoda and Master Windu will see to it that I release my feelings," he bit his lip and finished in a whisper, "to the Force."

"I am glad they will support you."

"We support each other." His eyes begged her not to bring up the obvious, that support could be fractured and strained. That last conversation with Qui-Gon had been bittersweet, for it was then that he had fully acknowledged their path together had come to an end.

Even the Force seems to acknowledge that truth, he thought, turning to stare out the window, for a cloud briefly obscured the sun. His wry sense of humor asserted itself. At least it's not raining.

"We have few rainy days at this time of year."

Obi-Wan turned his head and blinked in confusion. Did I speak aloud?

"What?" She laughed merrily at his incredulous look. "Don't tell me you were thinking of our weather! Naboo is beautiful this time of year. You should see it during the rainy season – it gets rather gloomy. Our museums get rather packed then."

"I should like a chance to see more of your city before I leave. I find Theed far more visually pleasing to the senses than Coruscant, though I rarely spend much there outside the Temple. We, ah," he cleared his throat, "I have often been away on missions since my apprenticeship began."

"Perhaps I can escort you to a few places before you leave. Do you know if Anakin will be going with you then?" Her gaze was both frank and sympathetic. She did know, enough to feel pity even if she didn't openly express it. He appreciated her restraint.

"I have no idea, really, but Master Qui-Gon is quite determined to train the boy, with or without the Council's approval. He is rather adept at getting his way…." He waved his hand, not daring or wishing to say anything more than that. It was not his place.

"Anakin proved himself worthy of re-evaluation; without him even I must admit the outcome might have been uncertain, and far more Gungans would have died, if not more of your own people. You ended one battle in Theed and he one in space, thus ensuring the liberation of Naboo."

He saw the spark in her eyes, the warmth in them at the mention of Anakin. It was the same spark in Qui-Gon's eyes. The spark he could never ignite himself.

Despising himself for his sudden jealousy and longing for something he would never have, he picked at the blanket beneath his fingers while maintaining his outward composure.

"He is a remarkable boy, indeed, but I still say we are equally indebted to the Jedi for our salvation."

Before Obi-Wan could murmur a response, a tousled blond head peeked around the corner and two angry eyes stared accusingly at Obi-Wan before switching back to Padmé.

"Why are you in here with him - I've been expecting you, Padmé."

"Oh, Ani, I just stopped by on my way to pick you up." Padmé smiled affectionately at the boy and tousled his hair as Anakin beamed. The whine in his voice had been plain to Obi-Wan, but apparently not to Padmé. Was jealousy coloring his view? He looked down; back up in surprise as she continued, "I don't suppose, Obi-Wan, the healers would let you out of here to accompany us, would they? We're going to do a bit of sightseeing: I know you'd love it."

"He can't come with us!" Anakin stared accusingly at first one than the other. His lips quivered. "I want to be with you, Padmé, not him."

"Oh, Ani."

It was all Obi-Wan could do not to roll his eyes. That lip quiver was good. Padmé had quite fallen for it, for she merely shook her head and laughed. Any initiate caught behaving like that at the Temple was quickly disabused of the notion that such behavior was appropriate. Manipulation, the Jedi quite rightly called it.

The pout came next.

"He's just a Jedi reject, Padmé; I don't know why you even bother to talk to him. Master Qui-Gon even rejected him. C'mon, say hello to him before we leave." He reached for Padmé's hand and tugged.

Images of long ago filled Obi-Wan's throat with bile. He put a hand to his mouth, hoping to swallow the rancid fluid before it spilled out, further shaming him.

Trudging head down to the transport to Bandomeer – away from the Temple.

He had known his entire life he would be a Jedi. It had been the only certainty. Now he knew he would not. He had failed the Force.

"Obi-Wan, focus. Your connection to the Living Force is deplorable." He'd heard the unspoken not just today that followed that. His connection to the Unifying Force was not enough, would never be enough for his master. He had to reinvent himself, if he could, had to gain a connection that was only tenuous at best.

And he'd improved. Maturity and a true desire to know the Force in both its incarnations had brought him closer with each year, nay, each month that passed.

But it was never enough, close enough. Within lingered the expectation and the knowledge that some day, once again, he would hear those words: "Focus, Obi-Wan, on the here and now;" and know that he would murmur the dutiful, earnest, and very sincere, "Yes, Master."

No matter his growth, no matter his growing connection, it was not enough. He would again fail in his master's eyes.

"Give him up." Those words had struck deep, opening a wound not easily healed. Master Dooku and Qui-Gon had argued – about him. He'd known the two masters had spoken of his training, though his master's master had had little direct contact with him.

"Can't you see…;" the next words he had accidentally overheard had been, "Give him up."

His grand master thought he wasn't good enough to be Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. He had been judged unworthy. He had never known the reason why, or why Qui-Gon had not dismissed him then or there. He'd only known that he had failed to measure up in one great Jedi's mind, already, just weeks into his training.

He'd grown far from those memories, dealt with them and set them aside long ago, a relinquished part of his past. His past, not his present. Now the present had become his past, the circle complete. This time he had been set aside, this rejection final.

Even without seeing his white face, Padmé crouched and put her hands on Anakin's shoulders. Her "Anakin Skywalker, that's no way to speak to anyone. Apologize to Padawan Kenobi," was gentle, but quite firm.

Anakin's lips again quivered and he threw himself in Padmé's arms, sobbing, "I'm sorry, Padmé; I'm just so worried about Master Qui-Gon, I don't care what the healers say." Over her shoulder two spiteful eyes glared at Obi-Wan even as he sweetly offered a trembling, "I'm sorry, Padawan Kenobi." His eyes offered something else, a threat: stay away from what's mine.

"That's much better, Ani."

"You – you won't beat me, like Watto did?"

Padmé's hand flew to her mouth in horror and she gathered Anakin into another tight hug. "No one will ever hurt you again, Ani. Ever."

Even as disturbed as he was by the boy's animosity, Obi-Wan was equally appalled, his shame forgotten as remorse overcame him. The boy had had a brutal life, no wonder he acted out. He was even more appalled at himself, for he had rescued adults and children alike from similar treatment over the years.

Because they had been so obviously broken, so dispirited, he had not seen behind this boy's fragile shell to the tormented child within. Had he been in greater touch with the Living Force, he would have known.

He should have known had he not focused on his own hurt feelings.

Qui-Gon had been right all along.

"Ani -." He never got to finish the sentence let alone the boy's name.

"My name is Anakin, not Ani and I don't want you feeling sorry for me. You hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" He slid out of bed and squatted next to the boy, daring to venture a finger to wipe away a tear. "I know I've hurt your feelings, and I'm very sorry for that, truly sorry, but I don't hate you."

"Yes, you do – you think I'm pathetic and dangerous." He swatted away Obi-Wan's hand.

His eyes met Padmé's and they slowly nodded at each other as Obi-Wan stood, heaving a soft sigh. "It's okay," she mouthed, touching his hand gently before scooping Anakin up in her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder to hide his tears.

The young Jedi nodded awkwardly. "Thank you for stopping by and enjoy your tour."

"I'm sure we will, once Anakin calms down." She smiled and turned to leave. Anakin lifted his head from her shoulder and looked directly at Obi-Wan.

A shiver trickled up his spine, for those eyes – they were not the eyes of a child, a selfless, giving, compassionate child, even one who had been mistreated and enslaved. Obi-Wan had seen eyes like that before: the eyes of the Sith, promising vengeance.

Even without the Force, he had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

It had taken both Padmé and Qui-Gon a long time to calm Anakin down. Between sobs Anakin had choked out how Obi-Wan hated him, had always hated him.

Listening to the distraught boy, the list of Obi-Wan's sins seemed to grow ever longer. He was a grown man, not a child – how dare he treat a child so?

The more he had consoled Anakin, the angrier Qui-Gon had become. Obi-Wan might have been expected to feel a sense of loss; perhaps a bit of anger, but to take it out on the boy – this innocent child – was unconscionable. It was the Force he should be mad at, if anything and yet if he was would be to deny his very nature as a Jedi.

A Jedi accepted, and a Jedi accepted the Force. Obi-Wan had done neither.

And now a boy who had escaped a terrible past into a wondrous future, a boy who despite his past gave without regard and expected nothing in return had been crushed by the spite and jealousy of a man who not just knew better, but had been taught better.

He had known years ago Obi-Wan had issues with anger; it was one reason he had initially refused to even consider taking the boy as his padawan. That boy had not grown beyond that, only grown in his ability to conceal his true nature.

His horror deepened when Anakin casually mentioned he'd overheard that Obi-Wan had been touched by the dark side at seeing Qui-Gon struck down and that anger had fueled him in his battle. That cemented Qui-Gon's current view of Obi-Wan: his former padawan had accepted the easy strength and power of the dark side and was perhaps even now – tainted.

How else to explain his failings - he had always been ripe for plucking by the dark, and when tempted, had succumbed. Perhaps not fallen yet – not truly lost – but tainted and always now both easy prey and suspect.

Now Qui-Gon could admit that perhaps he had indeed severed the bond – perhaps, for he had little memory of what transpired on Naboo after the Sith's blade had pierced his body.

For both the boy's and Padmé's sake, he had held his anger in check until they left.

"I want you to do your best to stay away from Obi-Wan from now on and I'm going to tell him as well. I won't let him upset you ever again, Anakin." He hugged the boy.

"Master Jinn -."

He held up a hand to forestall Padmé's words. He did not need to hear her attempts to apologize for Obi-Wan. His proof had been crying in his arms.

"Anakin, dry your tears and forget about Obi-Wan. He can't hurt you if you don't let him. He's not worth it. Now, go with Padmé and enjoy yourself." He patted the boy on the head and slid him onto his own feet at his bedside.

The boy gave a tremulous smile and walked off hand in hand with Padmé, though he could sense a certain amount of bewilderment within her. He appreciated the thought that she had wished to defend his former padawan though he wasn't sure why she might wish to offer excuses or reasons for his behavior. Her kind heart, perhaps, seeking explanations even if those explanations were false.

Gradually his anger cooled enough that he could face his former padawan as a Jedi would, calm and in control.

Having spent more time than he cared to remember lying in hospital beds, Qui-Gon knew exactly how to disentangle himself from the machines. What came next was harder: actually getting up and standing on his own feet.

His legs nearly buckled under him, but he had been expecting that. What the human body found difficult, the Force did not. It kept him upright and it allowed him to shunt the pain aside.

He didn't have far to go. It didn't matter; the Force would guide him there. How he got back, he didn't care. So, one slow tottering step at a time, he took the steps to free Anakin.

Obi-Wan would never hurt Anakin again. Never.

"How dare you…" the words died on his lips as he reached the doorway. "Oh, dear Force, Obi-Wan!"

He fell to the young man's side and lifted the limp body into his lap. Blood, so much blood. "Obi-Wan?" Shaking fingers reached out; he dipped his head close to hear the sound of breathing and found – nothing.

Obi-Wan was dead.

And the tears fell.