Padawan Aneiki None of these guys are very good at communication, are they? I kind of want to knock my own head at this point. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Getting a review really makes my day!

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I reached a natural stop, so the next chapter will be the last. I swear.

Part IX

When he approached his quarters, Qui-Gon expected to meet Mace Windu, and it was a relief to instead turn into an empty hallway. The two Masters had nothing to say to each other now. They both knew what needed to happen.

It made Qui-Gon very tired.

He entered his rooms and found them dark, quiet. He sensed Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, though somewhat muted by unconsciousness. Standing in the shadows of the common room, where he had spent so many nights, years, alone, he closed his eyes and let himself think of what his life would be like if that luminous presence, still so familiar to him, could remain as close as it was tonight.

If he could wake every morning with the singular, sacred purpose of training an apprentice, this apprentice, with whom he shared an undeniable connection. If they could write a new chapter together, when their last had been so foolishly abandoned on the first page. Mace Windu could claim no such history with Obi-Wan.

But the rational voice inside him whispered, perhaps that is for the best. Did Obi-Wan not deserve an unencumbered path to Knighthood? Force knew he had already survived his share of obstacles. Mace was at the pinnacle of his skill, keenly perceptive, and a highly respected member of the Council. Qui-Gon knew that beneath the practiced veneer of stern aloofness, the man was kind, compassionate, even funny.

Occasionally. Once or twice, at least, if his memory served him right.

Having such a revered Jedi as his Master could only be a boon to Obi-Wan, especially as the young man entered senior Padawan status. The coming years would shape Obi-Wan into the Knight he was destined to become. In some ways the last miles of the journey were easier, as the Learner shed adolescence and inexperience, but such growth needed to be tempered by humility, patience. He had no doubt that Obi-Wan would rise to these final challenges in his apprenticeship, no matter who acted as his guide.

Qui-Gon would just have to dispel the stubborn hope in his heart. I had my chance. I walked away. He was not walking away this time. At least, not forever. Obi-Wan would be a Knight in a few years, and perhaps then they could reconnect, even work as a mission team occasionally. It was not what he wanted, or what the Force urged fervently in his blood, but it would be enough, and more than he deserved.

He crossed the still room and stood at the door to his sleeping quarters. Gathering strength, he entered, tensing at the slick sliding noise of the door, worried it would awaken Obi-Wan.

But the Padawan slumbered on, turned on his shoulder beneath Qui-Gon's blankets, radiating a kind of peace that hurt and warmed the Master's heart in equal measure. He stood beside the bed. He listened to the measured snoring of deep, exhausted sleep, saw the soft crop of auburn hair against the white pillow. He lowered his last shields, and let himself feel, fully, his regret and sense of loss.

He could not be angry at Mace Windu, or Ullo Tirr. They had only sought to salvage what he discarded.

Obi-Wan shifted, moving onto his back. The pale moonlight spread across the young man's neck, as if to accuse Qui-Gon, illuminating his sins.

There. It was there.

A thin scar, a shade lighter than Obi-Wan's skin, barely noticeable or unusual, especially for a Jedi.

Qui-Gon had not seen it.

Now he saw it, and he could not deny Mace's words. The truth was scrawled before him. A shuddering gasp escaped his lips. He was back on Melida/Daan, walking up the ramp. Why didn't I turn around? He was thirteen. Why—

"Master Jinn?"

The hoarse voice cut through his reverie like a knife.

He looked at Obi-Wan, watched the scar stretch and retract with each breath.

Why didn't I SEE?

Obi-Wan rubbed his eye with the heel of a hand. Blanket creases marked his arm and cheek. "Forgive me, I lost track of time."

Qui-Gon sat on the bed's edge and waved on a low light. "It's very late." Too late. "I've spoken with Master Windu. You needn't worry about repercussions."

Obi-Wan sat up. Brief pain flared in the Force, through the unbroken connection that should have been broken years prior.

"How is your back?" Qui-Gon asked. He gingerly touched the inflamed area.

"It seems better. Better than it was, anyway. Thank you." Obi-Wan's eyes were faintly red, his smile looser in the first, relaxed moments of wakefulness.

"Thank you for indulging an old man. It was...a pleasure to share your company last night. I know Dex will be needling me every time I see him now, asking when you'll be back." Qui-Gon chuckled, though the thought of answering the cook's genial probes about Obi-Wan filled him with a melancholy dread.

"Oh, not for a month, I'd say. I doubt I'll be hungry again before then." The Padawan quipped, in that proper, dry tone that made anything he said sound especially clever.

He will be a breathtaking negotiator one day. The thought came and went as he watched the young man. "If you are comfortable here, I will happily take the sofa. Your Master," he stumbled on that particular honorific, "should not be expecting you until daybreak."

Obi-Wan's mouth settled in a straight line. He nodded. "I appreciate that, Master Jinn. I'm sure you're eager to have your rooms to yourself again. I can sleep just as well in my quarters."

That had not been the case since Ullo's death, but Qui-Gon decided not to press that particular issue. He knew his offer was rooted in attachment, to keep Obi-Wan for a few hours more. "Of course, whatever you prefer." His eyes strayed again to that damning thread of pale, healed skin. His heart pounded. "But before you go, I would like to speak to you, if that's alright."

Obi-Wan straightened, and seemed to realize his state of undress, as he pulled the covers around himself, in an attempt at presentability.

A negotiator, a diplomat, a consummate Jedi. His mind bled sadness, a sense of pride he could not rightly claim. "When I spoke to Master Windu earlier today, he described events of which I was unaware. Terrible events that I had no small part in causing."

Confusion flickered in Obi-Wan's eyes, but he had the restraint to allow the older Jedi to continue.

Qui-Gon sighed. He looked down at his lap, then at the expectant face in front of him. "Obi-Wan, if I could change one thing in my life, it would be leaving you on Melida/Daan."

Immediately Obi-Wan clasped Qui-Gon's hands, shaking his head. "It was my own decision. You tried to stop me."

Qui-Gon gripped the warm fingers. Regret flowed from both directions in the open channel between them. "You were a child. I knew it was too dangerous for you to be on your own. Hells, Tahl was a seasoned Master and left that place blinded. You could have…" He could not finish the sentence, or envision a fate worse than what had already transpired there. "You were lucky to leave with your life. I never acknowledged Master Tirr's role in bringing you home, and for that, too, I will be haunted."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "Master Jinn, truly, this is unnecessary. We are years removed from that time, and I never…" He paused. "I never blamed you for my choices, or anything that happened after. I wanted to come to you, to ask your forgiveness, but Ullo insisted it was better to leave things alone."

He recalled the weight of Tirr's gaze upon him, as they passed one another in the Temple halls. It was a wonder the man had not struck him down there and then. "Your Master was protecting you. As all good Masters seek to protect their Padawans." Self-incrimination dripped from his words. "I know what happened after I left. I know…" He swallowed, spreading tentative fingers to graze the white scar, "Obi-Wan, I can never tell you how sorry I am." His voice cracked, but he would not look away from his former apprentice. He held Obi-Wan's hands, a man's hands, calloused by a life that would grow harder by the day. When Obi-Wan was thirteen, his hands were much smaller, smooth, and nearly fit in the cradle of Qui-Gon's palm. How could the hands of such a young boy commit violence so gruesome, against himself? What dark places had Obi-Wan fallen into, where the only escape he saw was a knife to the throat? He had smothered their link in the Force, and then Obi-Wan..."I'm so sorry."

They reached for each other in the same moment, six years of apologies and remorse and longing spilling out into the Force.

"You were my Padawan and I left you alone in a war. Mace….Mace told me...that you…"

"Qui-Gon...I didn't…"

"It's alright." Qui-Gon whispered against the top of Obi-Wan's head. He could feel the younger Jedi's pulse racing alongside his own. "Obi-Wan, I want you to know that I never wanted to keep my distance from you. Even when you asked to be my apprentice, and I rejected you, it was not because I didn't want you. I was afraid then, and I was afraid on Melida/Daan. But I was never afraid of you. It took far too long for me to realize it. I petitioned Yoda for another chance to train you, when you returned from Melida/Daan."

Obi-Wan pulled back. "What?"

"I wanted an opportunity to fix the mistakes I made with you. Except, no one told me how grievous those mistakes really were. No one told me you tried to kill yourself." Qui-Gon hated saying it out loud, but it needed to be said. Everything needed to be said, before they could move on, before morning and Mace Windu arrived. "Now I understand why you were not told of my wishes. You needed a stable environment to heal, which is something I've never provided you."

Obi-Wan's eyes dropped. "Whatt Master Windu told you…" He met Qui-Gon's gaze, a maelstrom of emotion swirling in their connection. "...it's not the truth. I didn't do that."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Obi-Wan, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You don't have to—"

"No, I do. I must tell the truth now. I should have done it years ago. When I regained consciousness, Ullo and the healers said I had tried to kill myself. I allowed them to think that, because I was thirteen, and thought I was protecting someone."

"Someone…." New shock and horror mounted in Qui-Gon's increasingly overwhelmed brain, "Obi-Wan, someone did that to you?"

Obi-Wan hesitated.

"You can tell me. It won't leave this room, if that's what you want." Qui-Gon asked again, carefully, "Did someone else do that to you?"

He felt a duracrete wall crumble. Obi-Wan's blue eyes were tired, but clear. "Yes. Do you remember Nield?"

Qui-Gon searched his memories, found a vague image of an older boy with dark hair. "One of the Young leaders? It was him?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "He was angry that I was elected the new leader following Cersei's death. I think he was just angry, and I was there. He cornered me on the surface, near a remote forest. He stabbed me in the side and cut my throat."

Qui-Gon squeezed his hand, in comfort to both of them. He did not know what was more disturbing, thinking Obi-Wan had attempted suicide or knowing the truth, that a young boy maimed another child and left him for dead. Obi-Wan had sacrificed his status in the Order to help the Young, and was repaid for his empathetic nature with cruelty and pain.

"I remember feeling myself bleeding out. I did not want to die." Obi-Wan continued quietly. "I woke up in a medbay and Master Ullo was there. He told me what I had done would change nothing, that the Council would support my return and he would take care of everything, and I was to focus on mending my body and spirit. I had already forgiven Nield. I saw the regret in his eyes the moment he realized what he had done. I thought I had driven him to it." He ran his hand through his hair. "It's difficult to comprehend my thought process then, but I decided it was better for everyone to think I had stabbed myself. Nield had already lost everything. I worried the Council would discover his sudden disappearance and put two and two together... That's why I went along with what they already believed."

In the muted light, shadow softened the lines of Obi-Wan's face.

Qui-Gon wondered why they had only ever seen each other in half-light. "Yoda seems to think you were given the choice between myself or Ullo Tirr. But Mace told me you were not."

Obi-Wan stared into the distance. "No," he whispered. "Ullo asked me to be his Padawan while I was still in the Healer's Ward. And you had said…" But he trailed off, studying the frayed edges of the blanket.

If you close this door now, you cannot knock upon it again.

"Ullo never intended to take an apprentice. Once, a few years later, I asked him why he changed his mind. He said it was like the Force was knocking him over the head." He glanced up at Qui-Gon with a rueful smile. "I've made so many mistakes. I've wondered before, how things would be different if...except then he would not have been my Master. And he was a good Master."

Qui-Gon rubbed his thumb across the tear on Obi-Wan's cheek. His thoughts had wandered down the road of what-if so often, he knew every crack and turn by heart.

"I think he knew of your intentions to train me again. Now that I know, it makes sense. He avoided you, he did not want me to speak of you, or to you. It was not just resentment over Melida/Daan." Obi-Wan's eyes flashed with the brilliance of anguish, of epiphany. "He knew of your intentions, and made sure I didn't."

"He didn't want to risk losing you." Qui-Gon ran his fingers down the markers of the Learner's braid, all the milestones Ullo Tirr had woven into Obi-Wan's life. "I know because I lost you. He was afraid."

Obi-Wan nodded, wiping his face.

"I do not blame him for what he did. He cared deeply for you. And he was there for you when I chose not to be." Qui-Gon smiled, despite a growing pressure in his chest. "I see his goodness in you, in the man you have become. I've no doubt Master Windu will honor Ullo's memory, and you will flourish under his tutelage."

Something in the Force flexed. "If I had known...Qui-Gon, I always..." Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "When I was bleeding out on Melida/Daan, all I wanted was to tell you I was sorry. All I wanted was to be your Padawan again, for things to be as they were. If I had known you had forgiven me…"

Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan would not speak of it. Could not, without in some way betraying his slain Master and the years he spent at Ullo Tirr's side. But he felt the truth between them nonetheless, as it had been from the moment they first met, surviving betrayal and distance and incredible misunderstanding.

"I know." Qui-Gon said. He noticed the river stone sitting atop the blankets, placed it in the young Jedi's open palm. He felt the warmth against his skin where their hands touched, the stone held in between. "Promise me you will be kind to yourself, in the days and years to come. I may not be your Master, but I want you to know, in my eyes, you are the best among us, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

He did not expect the arms that wrapped around him, but he returned the embrace, fiercely, closing his eyes against the hot threat of tears. "I always thought so. I will always think so," he rasped. "You can carry that with you, as you carry Ullo with you. You were never less than wanted. If it were up to me-"

Obi-Wan hiccuped into his shoulder, his fingers twisting in Qui-Gon's tunics.

They were a Master and apprentice at their beginning, they were screaming at each other on Melida/Daan, they were seeing each other from across a chasm, they were close and still, still too far away.

Yet the message reached Qui-Gon through their connection, crystalline and pure: And if it were up to me.

But it was not. The opportunity had passed, the official movements made. Mace Windu would oversee Obi-Wan's last years as a Padawan. Tomorrow could be held at bay for a few more hours, and then obligation would wake with the sun. Obi-Wan would be gone.

He stroked the hair near his cheek, wanting to memorize everything, remember the sweetness as well as he had remembered the bitterness and regret. He could not be Obi-Wan's Master, but now they both knew, and it was better to breathe without the pain of secrets. "Obi-Wan?" he murmured, after awhile.

Obi-Wan sat up. When he was weary, it was easy to see the child he once was, a lingering suggestion of innocence. He smiled, unembarrassed by their trespass into attachment and emotion. There, in that minor smile, it was easy to see the man he would become, graceful and capable and good. "I suppose I should go, before things become unbearably maudlin."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "I believe that ship has sailed. It can stay between the two of us. We have reputations to uphold, after all." He sobered, watching Obi-Wan stand, glimpsing the faded bruises along his spine. "Will you promise me one thing more, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan slipped his sleep shirt over his head. "Yes?"

"The next time you venture into Vapaad, ask your Master to accompany you."

It was supposed to be a teasing comment, to lighten the end of these dark and confusing days, but Obi-Wan did not laugh, or even smirk. "I believe that Vapaad is not for me, Master Jinn." He replied, sliding the river stone into a pocket.

Of course, it was not. "What form did Ullo use?"

Now a faint smile, a fond stirring in the Force. "Soresu."

"A fine choice. Don't tell Mace, but Vapaad has its share of critics." Qui-Gon could not quite mask his sadness as Obi-Wan prepared to leave. The Padawan would be busy with learning a new mentor's methods, leaving on missions, studying for Senior levels. He knew he would not fit into Obi-Wan's schedule, especially with Mace at the helm. "Perhaps, someday, you could tell me more about Ullo, and your adventures together. I have missed so much. I am here if you need to talk, or cannot sleep…"

Obi-Wan gave a shallow bow. "I would appreciate that."

Qui-Gon stood, laying his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders. "There is no door of mine that is closed to you. You can always knock, Obi-Wan. I will always answer."

He should have said it six years ago, to a confused boy, as they stood at the precipice of folly.

"Thank you, Master Jinn." Obi-Wan said.

When the dawn came, Qui-Gon Jinn was alone again.