Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with George Lucas or Star Wars. I have borrowed some people and a lot of the world created by Dave Wolverton and Jude Watson from the Jedi Apprentice books, but they are not mine. I am making no money off of this.

Writer's Note: Many, many thanks to Jovieve for beta reading this, and for helping me to fix all the problems I didn't even know existed. You are awsome. Thanks.

Ch. 1: "Memories Can Fade" - Britney Spears, Autumn Good-Bye

"Obi-Wan."

The voice was accompanied by a gentle nudge through his Padawan bond, and Obi-Wan Kenobi struggled to open his eyes. The passenger seat of the two-man transport was no more comfortable than it had been when they'd left Kagran 3, but he'd rather stay in it than get out of it. The engine pinged, cooling, and he realized they'd landed. Finally, he opened his eyes to mere slits and found the blurry shape that was Qui-Gon Jinn. "Yes, Master."

"You will be much more comfortable in your own bed," Qui-Gon said gently. "We are home."

"Yes, Master." The news made moving slightly less odious. Leaning forward and grasping under his seat, he found the strap of his knapsack and climbed out of the transport hatch. The massive hanger was dim; behind his Master, the doorway was filled with the false light of Coruscant at night. Good. He'd be able to sleep. If he could get rid of this stinking tunic. If he could do that, he could save refreshing himself until he woke up. Anticipation of his own bed made him clumsy as he landed, and he barely managed to keep his feet. He caught sight of his Master's half-smile before Qui-Gon turned away to lead the way into the Temple.

The lights were dimmed for night in the halls of the Temple, and it relieved Obi-Wan. It meant fewer Jedi would see - or smell - their arrival. He actually saw very little but the fall of his Master's hair down his back. When Qui-Gon stopped, Obi-Wan roused enough to realize they were waiting for a lift. He started to lean against the wall, only to have Qui-Gon's hand stop him. "Don't, Padawan. You will only fall asleep, and you will be very embarrassed if I have to carry you back to our quarters."

Obi-Wan flushed and straightened. "I'm not that small anymore," he protested weakly, half incoherent, remembering the time he'd collapsed in the council chamber. He'd been gone for nearly a year from the Temple, and had been brought back, injured. Theela had been upset that the Council had asked to see him about his actions before he was quite recovered to go.

"You were not that small five years ago," Qui-Gon reminded him. "And you were only a little more tired than you are now."

The lift opened and saved him from having to respond. He followed his Master inside, taking care not to lean against the wall there, either. Finally, the lift stopped and the doors opened to let them out on their residence level. Obi-Wan knew he should use the Force to keep alert, but he'd reached the end of his endurance on the flight back to Coruscant. It felt wonderful to be back, to have the Force palpably around him. He shuffled after Qui-Gon, stopping suddenly once he realized they'd reached their common room. He didn't remember leaving the lift or even walking the hallway.

"Go to bed, Padawan," Qui-Gon said gently. "You can clean up when you wake."

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan breathed, and stumbled into his own room. "Alarm off," he mumbled, and paused long enough to make sure the alarm had understood him. Tossing the bag in the corner, he set his lightsaber on the bedside table and started to unbuckle his belt. It landed across his desk; his tunic covered his travel bag, followed by his under tunic and leggings. He started to grab clean sleep clothes out of his drawer, hesitated, and decided against them. He collapsed onto his sleep couch. "Lights off."

The darkness was perfect. With a sigh, he pulled the blankets firmly around him and dropped to sleep.

He couldn't move. The situation was too familiar, the Force-frozen air around him, Master Sorin's hand on his braid, pulling. His Master sneered at him, "you are barely worthy of my time..." But this time the voice was Master Jinn's.

With a start, Obi-Wan woke, still frozen, the pressure on his braid real. He reached up to touch on the lamp affixed to the head of his sleep couch, and his braid pulled free. He sighed with relief, but then shuddered. It had just caught under his arm, but it had felt so much like the pressure Sorin had put on it. He reached for the gaudy datapad that he kept in the drawer of his nightstand, idly wishing again the shop had a datapad that was a bit more… subdued. He shook the thought off. What was, was. Maybe the dream was just an old memory, but none of his former Masters had ever spoken with Qui-Gon's voice in any of his previous dreams, and that had been disconcerting. Recording the dream, he dropped the datapad on the table and doused the light, snugging back into his blankets. Within seconds, he was asleep.

"No, Anakin."

His words woke him, his heart pounding. He sat up and reached to turn the lamp on again, comforted by the light. His hand shook - all of him did, but he didn't know why. The dream he'd had was fading, leaving only the feeling of betrayal and a deep-seated grief that increased until he felt nothing else. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and buried his face in his knees as he rocked back and forth. His breath came in gasps as he fought for control, not even sure when or how he'd lost it.

A knock on his door brought his head up sharply, and he stared at the door. "Obi-Wan?"

For an instant, he was surprised to hear the voice and feel the concern echoing down his bond. In the wake of the surprise came a displaced feeling, as if his Master had no business being there.

Raising a trembling hand, he waved the door open. The Force responded sluggishly, but it obeyed. "I'm sorry I woke you, Master," Obi-Wan said, his voice trembling.

"May I come in?" The voice was gentle, but somehow felt... out of place. In the dim light from his lamp, he could see concern on Qui-Gon's face.

"Yes." He rested his forehead on his knees again, struggling with the strange feeling. His sleep couch shifted as his Master sat down, close enough to touch.

"What happened?"

"A... a dream." He struggled to force the words out. "B-but I don't understand."

"What happened in your dream?" Qui-Gon's voice was calm, quiet, and still, somehow, wrong. Wrong that he was in the room with him.

"A... man - young man - a Knight, a little older than me. We fought. He turned against me, so angry." He paused for breath, trying to remember. "And he... attacked." He couldn't even remember clearly what had happened, the face of the Knight that had done this. Only an unbearable feeling of guilt and betrayal, and a sadness that seemed to have no end remained of the dream. He fought to keep it all in, to release it into the Force, and none of it would go.

"Attacked?"

"Me. I went, I tried to..." But then the grief was too much and he couldn't speak any more.

Qui-Gon reached out to place an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, Padawan." Gently, he drew Obi-Wan closer, to lean against him. The touch, both physical and mental broke his restraint and he sobbed into his Master's shoulder.

It felt even more wrong, for some reason, that his Master was there. That seemed to make his grief worse, and he gripped Qui-Gon's sleep tunic, trying to pull him closer, to bring everything back to normal, but he couldn't. He could do nothing but wait for the storm to pass. His Master held him gently, humming tunelessly, a familiar comforting sound.

Slowly, gradually, the rightness of it all returned and his sobs eased. His head ached, his eyes burned, but the grief had eased as well, and by the time he let go and drew away from his Master, he no longer felt so bereft and out of control.

"Feel better?" Qui-Gon asked gently, his hand on Obi-Wan's bare shoulder, curiosity and worry in the bond.

"Yes, Master. Thank you." Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

"Good." He squeezed his Padawan's shoulder and tugged gently on his braid, then stood up. Obi-Wan cringed and caught himself, hoping Qui-Gon hadn't noticed. The first dream was still too close. "Don't forget to write it down, Padawan. And go to sleep." He hesitated a moment. "We'll speak more on this tomorrow," he added quietly.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon paused at the door, then stepped back to Obi-Wan's desk and activated a night light located there. He stepped swiftly out the door, allowing it to close behind him.

Obi-Wan knew he was too old to need a night light. But he appreciated the gesture, and he knew he needed it tonight, no matter how close he was to his trials.

He didn't remember much of the dream anymore, but he picked up the datapad and recorded both the little that he could remember and his reaction to it. As he lay down to go back to sleep, he wished he could remember the name he'd said when he'd woken up. He didn't usually remember places or names, but he had the feeling this one was going to be important.

When he turned off his bedside light, the soft glow over his desk comforted and eased him, and he slipped easily back to sleep.