Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to mastermind George Lucas.

Author's Note: ::grins sheepishly:: Well, I've read some really fantastic "snatched back in time" fics in these archives (have you seen Shadows of the Future? It's utterly phenomenal—go read it!), and decided I'd really like to try my hand at one. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, as it's going to be one of my favorites, I think!

Reviewers: All 13 of you, thank you! I'm so pleased you like this!

Rating: T

Summary: What happens when a thirteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker and his twenty-nine-year-old Master get snatched back in time, only to come face to face with a fifteen-year-old Obi-Wan…and a very much alive Qui-Gon Jinn? (ObiAniQui Bonding) (NO Slash)

"Speech"

/Personal Thoughts/

:Telepathy (Bold):

Memories (Italics)

Conversations at the Intersections of Time

By Sentimental Star

Chapter Two: Well Begun is Half Done

Qui-Gon Jinn had seen many strange and miraculous things during his fifty-four years of life, but nothing quite so strange (or disturbing) as his own apprentice's future shadow.

For that was really the only way he could describe the stranger who had so suddenly appeared in the middle of a mission report early this afternoon (Force, was it really such a short time ago?):

"…We have safely delivered the babe to the Crèche, my Masters. Force-willing, there will be a place for her among us."

"Appreciate your report the Council does," Master Yoda intoned softly, with a tap of his walking stick. "Performed well you have, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Master and Padawan bowed in unison, Qui-Gon hiding a stray smile when Obi-Wan bashfully ducked his head. His Padawan had performed exceptionally well this mission and (though he doubted he would ever tell the boy) Qui-Gon was proud of him.

Master Yoda cleared his throat when they straightened. "One last question I have. For you it is, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon frowned when he felt the boy tense. "Y-Yes, Master Yoda?"

"Why look so tired do you? Injured were you?"

Alarm shot through Qui-Gon's veins. Had Obi-Wan been injured? How could he not have noticed? He'd observed that his Padawan had been less cheerful lately, but he'd chalked it up to the stress of the mission. Sith, what kind of Master was he to not even have realized--!

Obi-Wan shook his head vigorously, perhaps sensing something of his Master's emotions (though, Qui-Gon usually kept most of his shields up so he couldn't be sure). "N-No, Master Yoda, I'm fine. Really! It's just--"

At that moment, the Force suddenly screamed through the room, causing a startled Obi-Wan to stumble backwards into his Master as all twelve Jedi Masters surrounding them abruptly leapt to their feet, half of them with lightsabers ignited.

Two figures abruptly appeared in the center of the room. Struggled a second. And then the taller of the two collapsed to his knees.

A young, strident voice rang out in the chamber: "MASTER!"

IOIOIOIOIOI

For a few seconds no one moved. No one dared even breathe too loudly.

Qui-Gon felt his Padawan's lithe body trembling against him as the younger Jedi struggled to assess what the Force was telling him. The Master reserved his own judgment until he could hear Obi-Wan's point of view—the boy tended to be uncannily perceptive.

The taller figure faintly groaned and sat up gingerly. "Ani?" it was a moan.

Involuntarily, Qui-Gon's heart clenched. That pain-wracked voice sounded a little too close to his Padawan's for comfort.

And speaking of Padawans: "I-I'm here, Master," the young voice spoke up again, faintly shaking, as the smaller figure staggered to his feet, "but I-I don't know where--"

At that point he happened to glance up…and blue eyes widened as they took in twelve Jedi Masters (six of whom had their lightsabers ignited) on their feet.

The young apprentice promptly stumbled backwards, eyes widening even more, and within seconds, a seventh snap-hiss rang out in the Council Chambers. An azure blade nearly the same color as his eyes sprang to life. The young face paled.

There was another moan and Qui-Gon felt the Force draw itself in sharply around the younger Master as the young man shook off his apparent daze (and, oh, he was young; no more than twenty-nine). As Qui-Gon watched, a slim hand reached out and gently grasped the apprentice's elbow. "Anakin, calm down," there was only a slight tremor that wracked the young man's voice.

The Padawan (Anakin, was it? Ani?) looked appalled; he tightened his grip on the lightsaber hilt. "But, Master--!"

A second hand reached out and grasped the other elbow, firmly turning the boy around to face his young Master. "Anakin. Focus. Concentrate, and feel. Are we in any danger?"

For a whole tenth of a second, the child looked like he might rebel. But finally, grudgingly, he lowered his lightsaber. And Qui-Gon felt the Force snap into focus around him almost as sharply as it had around his Master.

Qui-Gon frowned slightly. He had impressive control for one so young—they both did. Even Obi-Wan, strong as he was, hadn't quite mastered that, yet.

The Learner's lightsaber clattered to the floor and deactivated. As if that were some sort of signal, those Masters who had ignited their own lightsabers also deactivated them.

But Qui-Gon never had a chance to speak up. The apprentice—Anakin—abruptly spun around on heel to face him…and his blue eyes went wide. "M-M-Ma…Mas…" he seemed completely unable to form the title.

His puzzled Master raised his head to follow the boy's line of sight…and sea-change eyes came to rest on Qui-Gon.

The older Master's entire world came crashing to a halt.

IOIOIOIOIOI

The silence spun out between them.

:Obi-Wan…?: Qui-Gon did not even realize he had spoken across their bond until both his Padawan and the younger man before him started…for two very different reasons.

Blue eyes widened and promptly swirled to gray. The young face immediately turned white.

:Master!: it was a ragged sob and came, not from the fifteen-year-old beside him, but from the twenty-nine-year-old in front of him.

Qui-Gon nearly snapped his shields up.

Hardly ever, in the past two and a half years, had he and his apprentice communicated mind to mind. It had happened on occasion—during times of great need—but never any more than that. His gut instinct—as it had been, even with Obi-Wan—was to force the intruder out.

But now…Force, he just couldn't! Even with his shields at maximum, he had always had some sense of the boyish warmth that was Obi-Wan lapping against them. It had soothed him after many a harsh mission and it continued soothing him, even now. But tangled up in that familiar warmth—and yet, also inexplicably separate—was a completely alien rawness, interspersed with a literal flood of emotions: fear, denial, mindless, intermingling joy and grief; it flooded every corner of Qui-Gon's mind…until some of the strongest shields the older Master had ever encountered slammed up.

There was a heart-wrenching cry: "Ani, is he real?!" the young Master clutched his Padawan Learner's arm until his knuckles were blanched white. "He can't be real!"

The Learner's eyes, for his part, never left the bundle of spiraling confusion and bewilderment at Qui-Gon's side. Belatedly, the older man realized Obi-Wan's hands gripped as tightly to his sleeve as his supposed twenty-nine-year-old counterpart's did to his Anakin's.

With a great deal of effort (and as Qui-Gon and the hitherto-invisible-Council watched), the Learner dragged his attention away from Obi-Wan and focused in on Qui-Gon's signature in the Force.

Qui-Gon forced himself not to fidget, to ignore the young boy's tentative probing and prodding. He felt Obi-Wan tense at his side and realized that his Padawan Learner was undergoing the same scrutiny.

Fortunately, the younger Padawan's inspection took only a few seconds. Qui-Gon felt him recoil sharply as he found what he was looking for, and quickly draw back into himself.

Azure eyes snapped open and the young boy—he looked no older than thirteen—swayed in place. His breathing hitched, "I-It's him, Master. It's really him. And is that…is that…Force, is that really you?"

Any doubts Qui-Gon may have had about the identity of this familiar stranger vanished as the younger Master promptly lost whatever had been left of his lunch.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Obi-Wan moved first. Before Qui-Gon (or Mace or Yoda, for that matter) could utter a single word of protest or worry, his fifteen-year-old apprentice had released his sleeve and hurried over to kneel beside his twenty-nine-year-old apparition and the man's thirteen-year-old apprentice.

As Qui-Gon watched (and, somewhere in the depths of his thoroughly shocked mind, felt his pride once again flare up), Obi-Wan reached out and gently touched the younger boy's trembling shoulder.

There was a sudden, muffled sob and, before anyone could blink, the young apprentice promptly tackled Obi-Wan in a fierce hug.

A small smile flashed across the fifteen-year-old's countenance and he lightly patted the other Padawan's shoulder. Qui-Gon saw the young Master start when Obi-Wan turned that smile to him and held his free hand out.

Delicately—oh, so delicately—the older young man slide his hand into the one he had been offered.

Qui-Gon felt his breath catch as those painfully gray and stormy eyes widened even more, shining with tears.

Quickly, the twenty-nine-year-old jerked his hand back, cradling it to his chest as if burned.

Obi-Wan raised his head and fixed Qui-Gon with a look of uncertain determination. He was clearly unsure of his Master's possible reaction, but nonetheless expected one.

Which left Qui-Gon in a bind. Only in the past year had he dared to even put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He did not count himself as particularly affectionate—at least, not since Xanatos had turned. Not even Mace or Tahl could elicit such a response from him anymore.

But Obi-Wan seemed to think that his near-double needed some form of comfort from the man who was apparently his former Master.

Qui-Gon swallowed thickly. Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode quickly across the room and knelt gracefully beside the younger Master. The smile that lit Obi-Wan's face then made his daring more than worth it.

Something in Qui-Gon broke.

It didn't matter, did it? It didn't matter what age the young man before him was or where (and when) he came from.

He was still Obi-Wan. He was still Qui-Gon's bright-eyed young savior, who'd burst into the older man's life, demanding nothing, and yet giving everything.

Nothing mattered…except the here and now, and the aching shell of his still-young Padawan.

Qui-Gon rested his hand gently against the side of the younger man's face, feeling him try to jerk back. "You're safe now, Obi-Wan," he soothed, much as the fifteen-year-old at his side soothed the younger Padawan. His heart clenched as the twenty-nine-year-old squeezed his eyes tightly shut and a tear trickled down his cheek. "You're safe."

(End Flashback)

That had been hours ago. It was just near sunset now.

Before any whys or wherefores could be discussed, both time-travelers had undergone a thorough physical at the behest of the Council. Yoda in particular had been insistent that they receive a full examination: everything from their midichlorian count to a catalog of their injuries.

As Qui-Gon had expected (and half-feared), the young Master was indeed a twenty-nine-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi. The fact that the younger man's thirteen-year-old Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, had the highest midichlorian count in recorded history took rather a back seat to that knowledge.

Especially when (after Qui-Gon managed to snag a moment alone with his former Padawan) Obi-Wan had blanched at the older man's inquiry about how—and why—he had taken such a powerful apprentice so young.

Qui-Gon had anticipated Obi-Wan would pass his Trials into Knighthood at twenty-eight or twenty-seven—young, though there had been younger (if not many). The Council usually insisted that Knights wait a year or two (preferably three) before taking on an apprentice; it was one of the few things they—and Qui-Gon—agreed on.

Obi-Wan and Anakin had been together for four.

Sighing, Qui-Gon rubbed the back of his neck and, silently sliding back the transparisteel doors, made to step out onto the balcony.

"…Think of it this way, Ani," Qui-Gon froze as his fifteen-year-old apprentice's voice reached him, "your Master made a promise to Qui-Gon while he was dying. Your Master could have very well chosen to disregard that promise in his grief. Yet, he didn't. He let you in, chose to care about you, in spite of that pain. It's probably not easy," Qui-Gon heard the faint smile in his Padawan's voice, "I've never been able to deal with grief all that well. I doubt many people can. But to train you and look after you, and to continue training and looking after you, even though he's clearly still hurting…I think you might just find that he cares a great deal more about you than you think. Ask him. You might be surprised by the answer you receive. And it will be the truth, Anakin—I could never tell a proper lie, except to save my life, and even then, it's by the skin of my teeth."

Qui-Gon grabbed for the threshold of the door, thoughts spinning, /What…?/

There was a thick snort from Anakin. "You could do the same, you know."

Obi-Wan's voice seemed to weaken. "I'm not that brave, Anakin."

Qui-Gon shut his eyes, fighting his suddenly light head. /Oh, Obi-Wan…/ he thought painfully, not bothering to differentiate which Obi-Wan it was directed at, /What happened to you?/

Without his conscious permission, the words fell from his lips: "Not brave enough for what, Padawan?" he asked (rather roughly), finally stepping out onto the balcony.

Obi-Wan shot to his feet, a great deal paler than normal, and Anakin spun around to face him, both children completely startled. "N-Nothing very important, Master," the older boy stammered quietly, flushing red as he ducked his head.

Anakin recovered quickly, and shot a fondly exasperated scowl at the back of the older Padawan's head. Qui-Gon, while taking note of it, did not mention his future grandPadawan's reaction. Instead, he inclined his head thoughtfully, "Ah. Then you will not mind when I say I humbly beg differ."

Obi-Wan's head shot up in surprise. "How did you--?"

Qui-Gon held up a hand. "Padawan."

Obi-Wan subsided, once more ducking his head and beginning to fidget with his hands. Qui-Gon's midnight eyes saddened. "Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan looked up again. Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "Any child who vows to ignite his slave-collar so that his Master may go free is quite brave in my mind."

Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon noted Anakin perking up in interest, but decided it should be Obi-Wan's task to tell his future Padawan of Bandomeer. Before he could change his mind, the older Jedi reached out and gently (if briefly) tugged on his apprentice's braid. "I would that you not disparage yourself so, my Padawan."

A shy flush of pleasure spread across Obi-Wan's cheeks as he ducked his head again, timidly fingering the braid that hung just below his right ear. At the diffident smile and murmured, "Yes, Master," Qui-Gon blinked and promptly decided that he should try to use that particular gesture much more often.

Anakin snorted softly and fondly shook his head, lightly thumping Obi-Wan on the shoulder. Then shockingly perceptive azure eyes snapped up to Qui-Gon. "Are you looking for my Master, Master Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon blinked, both at the familiarity of the address and the almost desperate request hidden beneath it. He sighed, "I had intended to, Ani. However--"

"He's down there," Anakin interrupted swiftly, prompting a stare from Obi-Wan beside him as he indicated the garden below.

Qui-Gon frowned at the interruption, but did not call the thirteen-year-old out on it. His gaze landed on Anakin's hand, which held Obi-Wan's in a white-knuckled grip, either preventing him from speaking out, or seeking reassurance, or both.

"Please, Master Qui-Gon?" the note of desperation rang out clearly now.

Qui-Gon blew out a weary breath. "All right, Anakin, I shall. You have my word."

An almost imperceptible sigh of relief and Anakin relaxed. Shaking his head, Qui-Gon decided not to dwell on it. He rather suspected he would find out one way or another—whether from this Obi-Wan and the child beside him, or from the Obi-Wan whose aching spirit even now called to him from the garden.

Qui-Gon's stomach turned unpleasantly at the thought of speaking with the twenty-nine-year-old version of his Padawan: there was an empty, aching hollowness in the younger man. A darkness in the soul he had finally grown accustomed to thinking of as pure light. He had his suspicions about its origins, given the conversation he'd walked in on, but Stars…how could he ever fix it?

Especially when he was rather certain that it had been entirely his fault.

Sighing softly to himself, Qui-Gon made his way over to the balcony and rested his hand on it, gazing down into the garden. His expression remained inscrutable as he quietly studied the younger man ensconced within its confines, trying to ignore the ache that pervaded his heart, and wasn't any more successful than he had been in the Council Chambers.

His knuckles blanched white. He abruptly spun back around. "Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan, who had intended to make a discreet exit with Anakin in tow, now froze where he stood in the threshold. "Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon had the good grace to look embarrassed. "I apologize, Padawan. I did not mean to startle you. But…" he took in a deep, not entirely steady, breath and beckoned Obi-Wan over to him, "would you come here, please?"

Apprehensively, but nonetheless obediently, Obi-Wan did so. Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon caught sight of Anakin coming to the threshold and watching them, but paid the younger Padawan little heed. The Jedi Master hesitated, but eventually crouched down in front of his own fifteen-year-old apprentice.

Obi-Wan was more curious than apprehensive now, and voiced it so, "Master?"

Qui-Gon swallowed, and unsuccessfully ignored the voice at the back of his mind that sounded remarkably like Mace Windu, /Oh, come on, Qui,/ it said. /You can do it!/

The older man blew out a breath. Gently, he touched Obi-Wan's cheek and smoothed his cleft chin. "Smile for me, Obi-Wan," he murmured.

Shyly at first, then more and more readily, the boy's lips pulled into a small smile which soon blossomed into a beautiful grin.

Qui-Gon shut his eyes gratefully and carefully pulled away, brushing the back of his fingers against Obi-Wan's right cheek as he stood. "Thank you, Padawan," he whispered, opening his eyes. "Would you and Anakin like to find us a table in the dining hall? His Master and I will be along soon."

The older Jedi accompanied his request with a tentative brush against the fifteen-year-old's mind, and was even more relieved to find the familiar warmth untainted by the darkness he'd sensed in his twenty-nine-year-old counterpart's.

Obi-Wan started at the brush, but outwardly betrayed no more emotion, inclining his head and all but running from the balcony.

Anakin did not even receive the chance to protest his haste. As the older Padawan gently yanked him inside, Qui-Gon caught the warm, but pointed, "I told you so," from Anakin, before the transparisteel doors slid shut behind them.

He stilled a wince. /A little more discretion next time might not be amiss, I think./

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon rubbed the back of his neck, aligning his focus with a new train of thought. /Time to finish what I started./

Squaring his jaw and setting his shoulders, Qui-Gon resolutely turned back towards the balcony rail.

Tbc.