Happy Holidays to everyone - here's my present to you, though I'm sure many of you will truly hate Qui-Gon after this chapter. He believes, even if you don't, that he is acting in the best interest of the Jedi.

Chapter 23. Accusations and Confessions

Obi-Wan turned his attention from the open doorway where the on-duty padawan who had helped him dress had disappeared. He sat on the bed, waiting. He was leaving the healers; Master Windu was coming to take him home. Vaguely he wondered where he was heading – where was home now?

No matter how many explanations he had been given, he had trouble retaining the information. He had been hurt. The evidence of that was in his weak left side, the occasional tremble in his hand, and the muddle that was often his mind, though less than it had been.

He had some trouble putting his thoughts into any kind of coherent order; even more difficulty in expressing them. It kept him largely silent. Perhaps silence was normal for him; he no longer remembered. He only remembered enough to weep for what was lost.

Normally lithe, he now moved slowly, when he did, favoring his left side. He stood, balancing himself with one hand on the side of the bed, gathering his balance before stepping to a seat by the window.

This careful concentration on what he did and how he struggled to express himself surely wasn't normal. No, it couldn't be, not for a Jedi. He knew he must have been athletic at one time even if now he found himself lacking in grace. All Jedi were athletic and fit so he must have been before his injury as well.

He had a braid, so he also knew he must have a master, even if that master was absent – that spot remained vacant despite all those who otherwise sat at his side.

Because Master Yoda or Master Windu were so often present - quietly reassuring, clearly concerned about his well-being - he had sometimes wondered if perhaps one or the other was his master. He didn't really think so, but he knew he was confused and uncertain of much.

So he had asked once.

"No, young one, your master I am not though pleased I would be were it so."

The words confirmed what he had suspected.

Master or not, he did have Master Windu and Master Yoda, the healers, his friend Bant to keep him company. He was a grown man; he didn't need constant attendance by his master, but a visit or two – that would have been nice.

He wrinkled his forehead. Hadn't he been told his master – was no longer his? Yes…he remembered; he had done something – wrong. That was his master didn't come - ?

He twisted his fingers in his lap and again stared out the window, unmindful of the tear that ran down his cheek. He was too used to them, by now. They came without biding; they came when he remembered and they came when he forgot.

He didn't think Jedi cried, but a tear or two harmed no one. No one told him to stop, so it must be okay.

"Ready, Obi-Wan?" A hand dropped on his shoulder and he twisted around. The hand tightened, that reassuring touch he had come to count on.

Mace squeezed his shoulder, Yoda patted his hand or brushed a tear from his eye, and Bant hugged him. He knew their touches quite well by now, and appreciated them. The hole created by loss filled partly up when someone touched him.

He nodded and stood. Mace took his arm to steady him when he faltered. The distance was not far, but seemed endless. Once there, he sank into a chair and closed his eyes.

Home?

Mace certainly tried to make him feel at home. A cup of fragrant tea was placed by his side. He opened his eyes and drank, grateful for the warmth spreading through him.

"Th-thank you." He stumbled over the words. He remembered words tumbling out of his mouth at other times. He had never lacked for words, not when he wished to speak.

Why did he remember that?

And how much of what he remembered was true – and how much was not?

Mace studied Obi-Wan from a far doorway. The young man had made a lot of progress in a few days.

Originally largely silent and huddled within sorrow, with eyes focused on something unseen, the young man had fought through bouts of frustration and sorrowful gloom, fighting the disconnect between his mental processes and his inability to verbally express himself.

Only his eyes were not muted, quick and attentive except when focused inwards.

For some reason even he couldn't explain, Obi-Wan had tended to stand or sit at the window for long periods of time with a puzzled quirk to his eyebrows, as if something he could not quite put a name to called him. Perhaps answers to his unasked questions were there – somewhere.

Mace hesitated to ask. He was sure by now Obi-Wan himself did not know what he looked for unless he knew and was afraid it was forever lost.

All he or anyone could do was wait out those instances and accept the tears that so often accompanied them. A consequence, the healers emphasized, of the damage.

Flashes of the old Obi-Wan were now surfacing, more and more often, much to Mace's relief. It gave him hope that recovery was ever nearer. The healers had given Obi-Wan exercises, mental and physical, and he had devoted himself to them. His speech was more even and less laborious, more fluent, and he was regaining strength. If not yet the man he had been, he was no longer the man shaken by seizures and deep pain that had replaced him.

Even the shattered bond was mending; the wound once so raw was still painful but no longer incapacitating. Healer Jorak was already planning a follow up exploration of his preliminary findings. Mace understood this was not related to any Force echoes, per se, but a curiosity regarding the bond damage and any possible correlation to the mental and physical effects incurred initially and how such damage was slowly repairing.

It seemed more than one healer had taken quite an interest in Kenobi's "case," judging by the advice and suggestions offered to him as Obi-Wan's temporary guardian.

"Don't expect the gain in his physical health to correspond to a gain in his emotional health," the healers warned, more than once. "As the mental confusion lessens, he will remember more clearly everything that has happened and all but relive it again as if it had just happened. It will be a step forward, step backward process to healing. Don't let it worry you, Master Windu. We will continue to monitor him until we feel he is handling things to our satisfaction."

The healers had been correct.

Mace figured the best thing he could do was nothing except provide a non-judgmental presence. Not until the tears stopped, or the questions started, would he interfere with the process of coming to terms with recent events – usually with a cup of something hot or a squeeze of a shoulder.

This was Obi-Wan's fight. His alone, but he stood not alone. Others stood with him and by him.

Just not the one who should.

Qui-Gon had not been so happy in a long time.

Why not? He had Anakin to buoy his spirits. The boy was a delight, curious and quick-witted, full of questions and eager to learn. In that he was little different than the past two apprentices – but he was different than them both, better than both. In this one resided no guile, no malice, and no deceit.

He was an affectionate and loving child and an already gifted and soon to be exemplary Jedi. He was Qui-Gon's legacy.

He had few reasons to be other than happy. He was alive and his wound was mending well. For both he was grateful. Only one thing marred his happiness.

One was Anakin's reception by the rest of the Order. The welcome they gave him was – insufficient in warmth, mere polite murmurs of greeting. Anakin was just a young, homesick boy and not this – this usurper as they seemed to think. Anakin was at Qui-Gon's side because the Force had placed him there.

Obi-Wan was no longer there because the Force had deemed his place belonged to another.

Was it because the Force had known as well that the apprentice once so prone to impulse and anger had only learned to mask those feelings? Once Qui-Gon would have said no, said Obi-Wan was nothing but light – but he had not known true light until Tatooine, there where light had beckoned him…and where the seeds of jealousy and envy, lying long unfertile had taken root and consumed the once-promising apprentice.

No, it was not desire to mete out additional punishment that prompted his decision to speak out, so Qui-Gon decided after several days of indecision and meditation. It was concern – for his padawan and for the Order.

Light could be tarnished, but light could not be tainted and remain without consequence.

Anakin was a supernova in the Force – so blinding his light that it overwhelmed Qui-Gon's senses at time. It threw all around it into shadow, making it hard to discern true darkness from mere illusion of such.

In Obi-Wan did he feel true darkness – or just the absence of light? The Force itself urged him to abandon silence – too much was at stake to indulge in the merest semblance of sentimentality.

Would the Council show an open mind? They were aligned against Anakin already and thus all too apt to oppose his master in this matter. They listened not to the Force else they would already be questioning and investigating.

Instead, they were all too quiet on the subject.

Taking advantage of Anakin's presence in class, Qui-Gon requested an audience with the Council and one was promptly granted. It was his duty and his responsibility – to Anakin, to the Order and to the Force, to do what was distasteful but necessary.

He was surprised by the alacrity in their acceptance; perhaps they had had reservations as well but wished to allow him time for a full recovery. Certainly no one had spoken to him since Yaddle, on the trip home. They had not badgered him in any way, shape or manner. Maybe he hadn't been left in isolation, but left to make a full recovery.

After acknowledging the Council's greeting and best wishes for his continued recovery and declining a seat in consideration of his injuries, he bluntly stated his purpose.

"I have come before the Council to express my concerns about Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Initially, he had sensed expectancy in their gazes, now he sensed wariness and concern, no matter how disguised.

The Council members exchanged inscrutable looks before all turned their eyes back on him. Qui-Gon held firm. He had faced the Council before and he would no doubt face them again. He was not easily intimidated.

After a few moments of silence, Mace finally spoke.

"Your former padawan is no longer your concern. You have made that very clear and we have removed him from your jurisdiction as well. What reason have you to ask about him?" Mace was very formal, more so than usual. In fact, his old friend was rather aloof these days, seemingly more concerned about Qui-Gon's padawan – former padawan, he reminded himself – than Qui-Gon himself.

"Has he been examined for dark side taints?"

His eyes searched the Council's impassive faces. He had expected an expression of surprise, perhaps a knowing nod or two, but not this – nothing.

"On what basis do you ask this?"

"He drew on his anger to fight the Zabrak."

"He did," Mace acknowledged, sounding not at all surprised. "Perhaps a bit of hate as well."

So it was true. Qui-Gon let out a slow breath. "Anger and hate is of the dark side."

"We are aware of that." Adi Gallia spoke up. Qui-Gon's eyes shifted to her. Like the others, he could not read her.

"It is my belief he killed under the influence of those emotions – and tried to heal me by drawing upon those same dark energies – how else to explain his success at something even the healers are at a loss to explain?"

"Will of the Force?" That was Ki-Adi-Mundi, raising one bushy eyebrow at the Jedi master.

Qui-Gon swallowed. That was a low blow – to use his own oft-used defense as an offensive weapon.

"I demand you examine him and determine if Obi-Wan Kenobi should be stripped of the Force and exiled or determine if he can be rehabilitated."

The room remained silent. Qui-Gon raised his chin defiantly and met all the eyes without flinching. They did not flinch, either, but appraised him as if seeking to determine his motivation. He felt vaguely insulted; they should know he would not make unsubstantiated claims.

Only Yoda's face showed something other than impassivity; it showed disappointment. That Yoda would so deliberately reveal his thoughts was a bit disconcerting and annoying.

"He has no access to the Force," Mace said evenly. "Did you not know this? You would, had you cared to ask. He was, after all, your padawan at the time of his injury."

Qui-Gon's eyes flickered and he took a deep, centering breath. He had not known this. "The Force itself has punished him? He is no threat, then?"

"Threat?" Yoda banged his stick on the floor. "That boy is no threat to anyone – has lain injured and in deep psychic pain and even now is only partly himself. The path to his full recovery is not clear. Function as a Jedi again he might never, not as he once could."

Yoda's meaning burst over the Jedi master like a sudden dash of cold water in his face. Was Obi-Wan so damaged – no, his concerns were justified. Quickly recovering from his surprise, he straightened to his full height and faced the Council, every inch of him the Jedi master speaking on behalf of the Force.

"If he recovers, might he be a threat? Masters, for the sake of the Order, for the sake of the 'Chosen One' I respectfully suggest that you take steps to assure that he is not tainted by –"

"Tainted!" Yoda stood and hobbled over to Qui-Gon. His gimer stick poked at Qui-Gon; nearly whacked his shin when he was slow to respond. "Kneel you will."

He waited, scowling at Qui-Gon until the Jedi master complied.

"Suspect too much, know too little you do. Touched the dark Obi-Wan Kenobi did, yes, let it fuel him even – at first. Not the only Jedi to have done so, either. That I have; Mace Windu as well. Stronger we are for the repudiation. Repudiated it your padawan did as well – gave him the strength to save himself and you it did. Your life – a gift of the Force – and of Obi-Wan's affection for you. Believe me or not, I do not care. Ask the Force; believe then you will."

"Even if he is not tainted, his behavior towards Anakin needs addressing," Qui-Gon was undeterred by Yoda's vehemence or his frown.

"The past is past, is it not, Qui-Gon? Address any behavior of the present in the present we will, if and when it occurs. This should be satisfactory to you." Without further words, Yoda turned and hobbled back to his seat with a grunt.

Qui-Gon slowly rose to his feet and glanced at each Councilor in turn. There was no sympathy in any of the eyes that faced him, no condemnation, either. His only ally was the Force itself.

He nodded sharply and folded his arms within his sleeves.

"I have done my duty to the Order by bringing my concern before you. You are free to ignore the warnings of the Force. However, let me make this very clear: Obi-Wan Kenobi is to stay away from Anakin, now and forever. I do not wish him to speak to him, to interact with him, or influence him in any way, shape or manner. I will not answer for the consequences – Anakin is too important to the Order to risk."

"All Jedi face risk and all are valuable to the Force, Master Qui-Gon." Adi reminded him. "We suggest you follow your own advice – leave the fate of both your current and former padawan to the Force. By doing so, none of us can do wrong by either one."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi will answer to me, as well as the Force, Master Gallia, should he interfere with Anakin's mental or emotional well-being."

"Enough of this," Mace interrupted sharply, though his gaze almost skewered Qui-Gon. "Your warning has been heard by this Council, Master Jinn. You are free to go. May the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened in indignation.

His dismissal had been said almost with pity. May the Force be with you, as if Mace hoped it would again be. Well, two could play at that game.

"As I hope it will be with you as well." He stalked out, feeling the disapproving stares upon his back. He didn't care.

He had said what he had had to say, warned of what he must. For the Force, for Anakin. That was all that mattered.

"Dark side taints!" With a rare fury, Mace glared at Yoda, his words directed at the long departed Qui-Gon Jinn. The Jedi master's effrontery in Council had roused his ire, ire held in check until now - until it could be released. The other counselors were long gone. "Great Force, what Jedi worth the title Knight has not touched the dark? What does he think the trials are if not a way to force a padawan to confront and reject the dark?"

The momentary temper passed without comment. After a few moments silence, Yoda calmly asked, "Better you feel now, hmm?"

Mace was already passing from feeling to releasing his emotions; he finally shrugged and sat down.

"Better; just as confused. I have to admit I'm tempted to suspect Qui-Gon of dark side taints for spouting this – this utterly ridiculous idiocy. Does he think the Council ignored Obi-Wan's brief dabble – we evaluated, investigated and scrutinized every aspect of that boy's state of mind and his actions before concluding his surrender to the light after that heady intoxication was a thorough renunciation of the dark? Surely he didn't mean to suggest that we neglected our Force-given responsibilities?"

Even before Yoda's shake of his head, Mace had decided, no, Qui-Gon would not have been so subtle. He'd have thrown that very accusation in their face if he had believed that. The man was utterly fearless. Stubborn, opinionated, tactless – yet he was as well a man capable of great warmth and compassion.

And utterly, totally wrong in his belief about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He had believed no wrong, no ill of his first padawan until the moment of betrayal. He had believed in the presence of dark potentialities – enough anger and recklessness to drag a boy from light – to dismiss another as too much of a threat to be his second.

In each case, he had judged each to be the opposite of what was true. Actions had proven what appearances had hidden.

What, dear Force, had soured that hard-won knowledge; what had made the ill Qui-Gon should have seen in the first become the ill seen in the second?

Surely it was not because of another boy aglow with both the Force and with similar dark side tendencies, one with far more worrisome anger issues than a young Obi-Wan had ever displayed.

Why, Qui, why? Even after years of friendship, Mace could come up with no explanation for the Jedi master's terse allegation. None of the Council could.

"Abandoned his own padawan he did with insufficient explanation or motivation; that the Force urged him to champion the boy as he claims, perhaps; perhaps not. This inadequacy he translates to the Council I suspect. Tread carefully we must and ascertain what lies hidden or muddled, for lives may be affected by whatever path we pursue."

Yoda traced a small circle on the floor, sighed, and abruptly changed the subject. "Better our young one is, I hear."

"Much better," Mace agreed, steepling his fingers and settling back in his seat. "He's made tremendous progress since being released into my care; I swear I thought I had a ghost haunting my quarters at first but now he's part way back to his old self."

From quietly compliant to occasionally smiling, the slow path to healing had begun for one young Jedi.

The path to understanding why all that had happened did happen was no clearer. The consequences of that why had already set the future onto a different course. Had the consequences of that why been known far sooner, that future, too, would have been diverted onto yet another path.

On why hinged the galaxy.