Well... it's been quite a very long while since I've gotten around to this one and I sincerely apologize. It's been (YIKES!) three YEARS, so... um... is anyone still out there? ;) Seriously, though, thanks to those who have stuck this one out and been ever so patient. I hope that this chapter at least makes up for the first month of the wait, though I fear I'll have to do much more to make up for the rest. Please enjoy! :)

The training salle was empty, thank the Force, but Obi-wan had still noticed that their crowd of initiates had managed to acquire a few curious stragglers. He wondered for a brief moment if he would have to lecture them all on the importance of discretion in matters such as this, but then he dismissed the idea as foolish considering that Anakin was involved.

There was no hope for discretion at this point. He knew he would simply have to accept the fact that yet another childish dilemma had been blown out of proportion and he was again a key participant.

Blast it all. Blast their Force-blasted day off, blast his unruly former padawan's childish antics, blast that thrice-blasted devilish insect, blast his own blasted insistence on caring about any of it, and blast that short-tempered, easily irritated, somewhat intimidating, bald-headed man he would always call 'friend'.

And blast that Force-forsaken, unnaturally blinding glare coming from the aforementioned bald head.

Obi-wan furiously put a hand up, attempting to quell the streak of light that was searing his eyes. It didn't help. He turned around with a soft huff of irritation, only to come face to face with the helpless visage of one Anakin Skywalker. The young man's eyes were flicking back and forth between him and the still sparking remains of his ruined pinky finger. Obi-wan quickly counted to ten in a few different languages, reminding himself that the Force was still with him. "Have you finally come to terms with your natural ability to create problems where there don't have to be any?" he quipped, not caring in the least that the question was far more biting than Anakin really deserved.

The young man blinked, seeming stunned, but he quickly recovered and frowned. "It's not my problem Master Windu hates me, and don't forget that you were the one who whacked that stupid krill out of our room in the first place. This is just as much your problem as it is mine!"

One, two, three, four...

"The least you could do is help me out a little bit, maybe give me a few pointers, or at least something that would contribute to solving our problem, here. Anything? Anything at all, master?"

... eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen... wait a minute... "Our problem, Anakin?"

"Yes, our problem, Obi-wan. If I don't beat him, it's not just going to be me facing down a bunch of angry neighbors in the future or fixing a bunch of lifts, or taking responsibility for blown out windows, or anything else that we might cause. Maybe you should start taking responsibility for your own part in all of this!"

Blast counting. It wasn't working. And blast Anakin for only now acquiring a bit of common sense. Blast the man for being right. Obi-wan sighed. "Very well, Anakin. I suppose I have played a bit of a role in all of this, and I concede that denying it won't do either of us a lick of good."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "So?"

Obi-wan gestured towards Mace. "He's going to obliterate you."

Anakin's mouth fell open and his eyes widened, forming a rather comical and overly dramatic expression of surprise and alarm. "What?"

Obi-wan nodded, knowing that it would be a wasted effort to try and explain why this was true. "Yes. He's too aggressive, too fast, and too angry at the moment to really be able to have a chance. You will lose this match, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can work on beating him together."

"Master, I'm fighting him, not both of us. Just me. And who's to say that I can't beat him anyway?" The pinky unleashed another wave of sparks. A few landed on and singed the outer layer of Obi-wan's clothing and a few more flew backwards into Anakin's face. "Ack! They sting..."

Obi-wan looked on with mild interest and then glanced down at the black marks that now decorated his tunic. He frowned. Once this was all over he would have to go get that prosthetic tended to as well... He absently ran a hand through his hair which he knew was beginning to sport a little more gray than what was there the day before. He could almost picture a couple of his hairs flailing miserably as they shriveled up and died from simple exposure to his dear former padawan's presence.

Mace glared at them from his place a few yards away across the training mat. "Well? Are you two done trying to figure a way out of this mess?"

Obi-wan sighed again, trying - and failing - to overcome the barely restrained tremor running through him. The urge to show that blasted man a thing or two about the fine points of subtlety and patience in a duel was beginning to override his own ability to give Anakin advice.

Not that any advice would help. Mace and Anakin were too much alike to really be able to talk sense into either of them. Mace just happened to be a bit more mature and restrained than Anakin. This still would be a clash between two over-aggressive, not to mention angry, Jedi.

And then there was the minor detail that Obi-wan really had only beaten Mace a handful of times, despite what he wanted to believe. He was fooling his own self if he thought that a handful of victories against the creator of Vaapad made him worthy of giving advice towards exposing its weak points.

He shrugged, gave Mace a dismissive wave, and turned back to Anakin. Blast strategy. "You can't beat him on your own, Anakin. Just draw him in enough to secure his focus. Be yourself and he'll be frustrated and exasperated enough that he just might forget about those of us on the sidelines."

Anakin was still rubbing at the slight burn marks that the sparks had left on his face, but he still managed to send Obi-wan a confused frown. "And you'll do what, exactly?"

This time Obi-wan smiled. "Improvise. If I remember correctly, that happens to be something you're typically fond of."

Anakin stared at him for a minute and then smirked. "Never thought I'd see the day when Obi-wan Kenobi completely abandoned his precious strategizing in favor of just winging it."

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, urging Anakin forward with a light shove. "You and me both, my friend."

The younger Jedi let out a short chuckle and then strode towards the Korun master waiting for him. He examined his sparking hand one last time, determined that it indeed was useless, and called his 'saber into his left hand with an indifferent shrug. Obi-wan had been nothing if not thorough in training him in the art of swordplay. Anakin wagered that he had done even more training with his left hand than his right.

Mace watched him with an almost bored expression plastered on his dark features. "Are you quite ready now?" he asked in that deep rumble of his.

Anakin narrowed his eyes, annoyed by the Council member's apparent lack of interest. "Yes," he curtly replied, flicking his weapon around in a tight flourish.

The bored expression faded to be replaced by something akin to eagerness. Anakin suddenly grew a little wary of the man before him. Mace was eyeing him with what he might call a predatory gaze.

"Good," the Korun master said, finally reaching for the weapon clipped to his belt. He ignited it in a blaze of purple, whipping it around in an exact imitation of the flourish Anakin himself had just executed. "Wouldn't want you to step into this unprepared," the man quipped with a mocking smirk.

He smirked. Anakin blinked, caught off guard by something that was practically nonexistent with this particular Jedi. Mace couldn't possibly be enjoying this... could he?

Then Anakin mentally slapped himself. Of course he was enjoying it. The man hated the very air he breathed and the floors he walked on. Why wouldn't he relish a chance to embarrass the object of his hatred?

Mace seemed to scoff suddenly, giving Anakin an exasperated look. "By the Force, Skywalker, I don't hate you... I simply don't get along with you is all." Anakin tried not to show his surprise at being read so easily by someone other than Obi-wan, but he failed judging by the frown that appeared on Mace's face. "Are you really so blind as to think me that incompetent? You're hardly that difficult to figure out."

Anakin huffed and tossed his robe to the side, wincing when it landed on an unsuspecting student. When the boy let out a brief yelp of surprise, Anakin glanced in Obi-wan's direction, caught the disapproving glance, and promptly ignored him.

"Let's just get on with it," he ground out, absently saluting Mace in his typical opening challenge. "Dinner's coming up and I'm starved."

Mace simply held his saber at his side, a slight smile on his face. "Very well, Skywalker. Wouldn't want you to go hungry, after all."

"Let's see what you're made of, you old barve..." Okay, wrong thing to say... but Obi-wan had said to be himself, right?

For the first time, Anakin began to doubt his old master's plan. Purple suddenly didn't seem fit to be used for dresses or paintings of beautiful flowers that were hung in the Healer's Wing. Purple wasn't elegant, or pretty, or even remotely feminine.

Purple was downright terrifying, and threatening, and it was sizzling and crackling and about ready to take his head off...

Anakin ducked with a muffled yelp and stumbled to the side, barely escaping the quick attack that opened up the duel. "I didn't mean it!" he cried, tossing all of his dignity down the drain in a single, desperate attempt to tame the blur of violet haze that was clouding his vision.

Behind what appeared to Anakin as five or six lightsabers instead of one, Mace Windu actually laughed. "Are you afraid, Anakin?" he taunted, clearly relishing every second. "Don't tell me that insect bite paralyzed your fearlessness. I was hoping for a challenge..."

Anakin barely got his blade up to thwart another series of thrusts looking to catch him off guard. He let out a muffled curse when one of the jabs came too close and sliced a line through his sleeve. "I'm not afraid of you," he ground out, more for his own sake.

Because he was very much afraid.

Mace chuckled again, his dark eyes glinting with unnatural delight as he slid smoothly beneath a frenzied sweep of the younger knight's blade. "Sloppy, Anakin..." he admonished. "Honestly, I was hoping for a little more - kriff!" The Korun master almost lost a leg as Anakin instinctively ducked into a roll and flicked his lightsaber back around on the way by.

Mace leapt to the side, blade instantly in a guard position. "This is a spar, Skywalker, not a demo in dismemberment!"

Anakin felt a sudden rush of heat racing up his spine towards his head and he casually kipped to his feet, eyes flashing in furious irritation. Yes, he was still afraid of the man, still getting over the fact that his dreams were going to be haunted by that violet hue for the next month, but he would not be toyed with.

"So maybe it would do you good to hold back in your own beheading...ing... of me!" he spit back, the effect slightly diminished by his stuttering.

Mace opened his mouth to reply, but reconsidered, obviously remembering the way the duel had started. His eyes narrowed in acknowledgment of Anakin's point and he gave a curt nod. "Very well, then. Shall we go for disarming instead of killing?"

Despite the anger coursing through him, Anakin still allowed himself a barely noticeable sigh of relief. The amusement leaking off of his old master was hard to miss, though, and he resisted the urge to turn his head to glare at him. "I think that would be the responsible thing to do," he agreed.

Responsible? He sounded like Obi-wan on the verge of giving a lecture... Force forbid him from ever inheriting any of that man's confounded insistence on formalities and politeness. "Or at least the safer thing to do," he amended, gesturing faintly at the boys and girls surrounding them.

Said boys and girls were, for the most part, grinning from ear to ear, clearly excited to be witnesses of such a spectacle. Still, there was the occasional expression of panic and fear... probably due to Windu's unnatural aura of happiness, Anakin guessed.

Mace flicked his blade around in obvious impatience, gesturing dismissively with his free hand. "Safety is hardly relevant to matters concerning you, but I will agree to lessen the winning stroke to something a little more on the lighter side of things."

"Lighter side?" Anakin echoed, raising a brow. "I wasn't aware we were on the edge of anything dark."

"Have you any knowledge at all about Vaapad, Skywalker?" Mace bit out, eyes narrowing.

"Why do you assume I would even advertize such a reckless, foolishly aggressive, toe-the-edge style to an already reckless, too-arrogant-for-his-own-good young man, Mace? Surely you know better than that..."

Both participants turned to stare down the source of the familiar accent; one with a dark, murderous look and the other with a cocky gaze glinting with indignation... and perhaps a bit of agreement as well. Obi-wan couldn't really tell, and he wasn't going to waste time trying to figure it out because the time would be put to better use by trying to alleviate the waves of hostility pouring off of the dark-skinned Jedi.

He still couldn't stop himself from matching Mace's glare with one of his own. "Honestly, Mace. Be realistic, here. Anakin is no more suited for Vaapad than you are for Soresu, and you know that. So don't insult his apparent lack of knowledge when what is lacking is no fault of his own. It was intentional."

Mace quirked a brow and then glanced at Anakin. "Well at least now he has something he can blame you for..."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah... you should know that I do know the basics of Vaapad, at least from reading. I even thought it best that I didn't practice it."

Mace actually looked pleased at this and nodded. "It appears that you do have some brains after all, Skywalker."

"And it appears that you are as full of yourself as my brains led me to believe," Anakin snapped, disregarding all proper etiquette in regards to rank and age. Predictably, his former master let out a long, exasperated sigh a second before Mace lifted his blade in challenge.

"You dare insult a member of the Council, Skywalker?" the master inquired softly.

Anakin completely abandoned caution at this point, putting all of his hope into whatever Obi-wan had planned, and gave Mace a small smirk. "I'm surprised that's only the first thing I've said today that counts as an insult," he remarked, gesturing with his blade.

"Consider yourself on creche duty for the next week," Mace growled, stepping forward.

And once again, Anakin found himself deep in a purple cloud, acting on reflex alone to save him as he weaved and dodged and hacked and parried and did everything within his ability to keep his imminent defeat at bay. He was in the middle of throwing himself to the floor to escape another slash when he heart Obi-wan's soft, yet authoritative voice break through the mayhem.

"And this, my dear children, is why we never seek to get on Master Windu's bad side. The repercussions can prove harmful and possibly fatal, depending on the circumstances... no, no, no, no. Master Windu is not a dark Jedi, Riik, he's merely a... erm... misunderstood Jedi, if you will..."

The violet haze dissipated, revealing an irked Mace Windu.

"Exactly what are you teaching them, Master Kenobi?" he bit out, obviously trying with every atom of his being to not snarl outright at the younger man.

Obi-wan's mouth lifted just a touch in something of a smirk before he gestured at his class with a sweep of one arm. "I thought it fair that they at least get a lesson out of this. You did interrupt their class, after all... although I suppose I could attempt to make this relevant to diplomacy somehow... hmm, hadn't thought of that..."

His voice trailed off, muttering the last bit to himself and his eyes flicked away to some distant point as he fell into deep thought.

"Well now you've lost him." Anakin pointed his lightsaber in Obi-wan's direction when Mace turned a questioning glance in his direction. "You won't get him back for at least another two minutes. Trust me."

Some of Mace's former ire dissipated a bit as he lifted one dark brow in response. "Does this happen often?"

Anakin shrugged. "Depends. Today he hasn't had much to think about or worry about, really. I guess he's trying to make up for his lack of... well... deep thinking...?"

Mace actually let out a chuckle at that.

A chuckle. Anakin almost choked on nothing, blinking a few times to make sure he'd seen the tiny smirk that had just made an appearance. Things were just getting plain unnatural.

The young knight frowned. This was turning into a very uncomfortable situation.

"Well while he's deep in thought, how about we continue, hm?"

The Korun master's deep, amused, baritone jolted Anakin out of his uncomfortable musings and back to the situation at hand. He lifted his lightsaber once more, setting his mouth in a firm line. "Whatever," he muttered.

And this time, he attacked first.

Not his grandest endeavor, to be sure, since he soon found himself stumbling backwards on the receiving end of some sort of upwards, sideways, swooping, slantwise flourish the likes of which he'd never encountered. It wasn't so much the counterattack that had him reeling, however, as it was the delighted laughter echoing around the spacious salle.

Mace Windu... the Mace Windu was laughing.

If Anakin was unprepared before, he was thrown completely off-balance at this point. Not to mention he was utterly terrified.

"I'm still waiting for your reputation to materialize, Skywalker. So far I've been underwhelmed by your saber abilities."

The taunt came from behind the spinning, blazing, crackling wall of violet and it smacked into Anakin's Force-signature with the force of a roiling thunderhead. Or perhaps it was the Force-push, Anakin amended as he slid backwards a few feet. The taunt still stung, sparking something to life inside of him.

"Likewise," he spat, shifting smoothly to the side as Windu came barreling out of the violet fog, saber blazing a trail that would have cut straight into his upper arm. "Obi-wan failed to tell me that flailing about as fast as possible was your preferred strategy."

Rather than spark Mace's fragile temper as Anakin had hoped, the barb had only served to unleash another terrible smirk from the man. "Call it what you wish, Skywalker, but it seems to be working."

"Stalemate again, master. You owe me dinner." The pre-pubescent voice cut straight into their tense encounter with a smoothness that surprised the two combatants.

Anakin turned just in time to see an irritated frown cross his former master's face as he glanced down at a dark-haired youth to his right. "That doesn't count," Obi-wan was saying. "Master Windu clearly won that exchange and they were simply regrouping. A stalemate only occurs when neither opponent has gained the upper hand."

"But neither of them has gained the upper hand," the boy retorted. "Master Skywalker has him right where he wants him."

Anakin couldn't quite keep himself from smirking.

"Debatable," Obi-wan rebuffed, casting a quick glance in his direction.

And thus his smirk was stopped from blossoming into a grin. Blast his intuitive gundark of a master. "I thought you were on my side, here," he couldn't help but snap at him.

Obi-wan was about to reply when Mace took a step towards him. "Are you gambling on the outcome of this spar, Kenobi? With a child?"

Obi-wan had the audacity to look slightly offended by the accusation. "Of course not," he snapped. "I would never gamble on an outcome so obvious as this. We were wagering on when the outcome would come to pass."

Mace muttered something under his breath. "Regardless of what you're gambling on, I do believe it's against regulations to instruct the initiates on that specific practice."

"This is a lesson on diplomacy, is it not? Reading a situation carefully and correctly is an acquired skill, Master Windu. I am merely showing them that there are consequences should they read it incorrectly."

"It's a spar, Kenobi, not a blasted negotiation."

Obi-wan smirked. "I beg to differ. This is simply a means of negotiating the outcome of the day's events, correct? Perhaps it isn't your average negotiation where both parties are mildly pleased with the result, but it is a negotiation all the same."

Anakin allowed a small smile at Mace's expense. It was nice to see someone else at the receiving end of Obi-wan's star-forsaken wit for once.

Mace took a few more steps closer, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Negotiations are done through speaking, not sparring."

Obi-wan dismissed this with a casual wave. "Mere semantics. Class please define 'negotiation' for Master Windu. It has, after all, been quite some time since he's taken this particular course."

It was comical, the way the children responded. Anakin knew immediately what was coming since Obi-wan had taken it upon himself to teach that particular definition right at the beginning of class, but he couldn't help but chuckle a little anyway.

"The steps or actions taken towards reaching an agreement," the class dutifully answered, all in perfect unison with one another.

While Mace was grinding his teeth together, Obi-wan, predictably, took the opportunity to continue his 'lecture'. "You see, Mace, negotiation is much more elaborate than simple discussions. There are all sorts of variables to consider."

"Such as?" Mace ground out. He seemed eager to continue their duel, and Anakin couldn't help but feel the same, but there was no stopping Obi-wan once he got rolling.

He former master flashed the other man a wry smile. "Third parties, for example. It almost never fails that a third party will interrupt negotiations right as they're almost finished. Most would assume that it's usually between two, and typically there really are two main groups seeking an agreement. But more often than not there are dozens of minor groups that have something that's affected by the negotiations as well, and when the outcome is leading in a direction with which they are not satisfied, they usually find it in their best interests to make their presence known..." As he was finishing, Obi-wan had casually begun to shed his outer robe and reach for the lightsaber at his belt.

Mace looked on in disbelief while Anakin couldn't help but grin ecstatically. There was absolutely no way that Mace would be able to outmaneuver that little piece of reasoning.

This was a lesson on diplomacy, after all.

Obi-wan considered the weapon in his palm, flicked his eyes straight to Mace, and brought the weapon to life with a simple salute. "Your move, Chancellor. I suggest you tread carefully."

To Anakin's astonishment, Mace's thunderous scowl transformed into a resigned smirk. "Very well, Master Kenobi. I should have known you would find a way to help your headstrong protégé out. Are you sure this is the choice you want to make, even after all of your thoughtful consideration?"

Obi-wan shrugged. "I've spent almost two decades cleaning up Anakin's messes. Unfortunately it's almost natural at this point, so it really isn't much of a choice."

"Hey!" Anakin butt in, glaring indignantly at his friend. "Don't leave out all of the times I've dragged your sorry butt out of trouble. At least my messes don't usually lead to possible death!" Even Mace gave him a skeptical look at that, and Anakin could only sigh irritably. "I don't know why I bother," he muttered before raising his saber once more. "Alright old guys," he began, drawing a laugh from the kids, "let us finish this noble bout of - watch it!" He ducked as Mace executed a blindingly fast swipe that would have taken his head clean off his shoulders.

His frustration gave way to sheer annoyance as he turned to look at Obi-wan. "And I thought you were here to help me! Why didn't you block that?!"

The shorter man shrugged again even as he let a smile slip onto his face. "You ducked."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Right."

Anakin turned to engage the whirling Korun master again, but it was Obi-wan who finally stepped past him with a cocky grin lighting up his normally stoic features. "I do believe I'm the master of defense, here, Anakin. Why don't we play to our strengths, hm?"

Anakin was about to reply when that infernal purple blur collided with an immovable wall of blazing sapphire. It shouldn't have surprised him, as he'd seen Obi-wan's defensive technique on display for many years now, but he couldn't quite keep his admiration in check at this particular sight.

His friend's feet were barely moving. A slight step here, a pivot there, a minimal bending of the knees. Obi-wan was in his element defending against the crackling hurricane of sheer power that was Mace Windu, and while Anakin still considered Soresu to be far too passive for dueling purposes, he would always acknowledge that it was definitely useful.

Especially now, when it put him back in his own element. Certain barbs could not be left unsaid, however. "How many times have you defeated him, master? With the way you're going at it now, I would think it would be at least fifty percent of the time."

A spark of annoyance flared up along their bond and Anakin's grin grew wider. "I'm sorry, master, I didn't quite get that," he quipped.

Obi-wan was finally forced to move as Mace unleashed a particularly vicious swipe down low. The attack left his side open for a split second, which Anakin himself would have tried to capitalize on no matter how out of position it would have made him. Obi-wan simply retreated and waited for the next round of bombardment.

Too passive.

"Any time now, Anakin," Obi-wan barked as he grunted under another heavy barrage of blows.

Anakin simply smirked. And waited, content to simply observe his former master's 'subtle art' that he had perfected over the years. "Answer the question," he urged, "and I might consider helping you out."

Laughter sounded from behind the purple haze again and Mace's blade slowed enough so that Anakin could see the taunt in his eyes. "I daresay you've just been betrayed by your own padawan, Kenobi. Looks like your little plan backfired on you a bit."

Ginger brows beetled together and Obi-wan flicked the next few thrusts aside with ease, initiating a sweeping pass at Mace's midsection when the space opened up. Mace leapt back with a dark chuckle. "Touchy, touchy," he chided.

Anakin found himself starting to enjoy this. "Master?" he inquired. "I'm waiting."

"If this is another blatant insult aimed at my sparring capabilities, then I assure you that you've misfired," Obi-wan stated. "Unlike you, I'm actually biding time rather than haphazardly avoiding decapitation and amputation every other exchange."

Okay, so he could be a bit reckless, but against Mace that almost seemed to be better. "You're still not getting anywhere," Anakin pointed out as the two older man began to go at it again.

Obi-wan managed to somehow dismiss that comment with a wave of his hand even as he parried another exchange away. "And the record stands at twelve to five, I believe, in Mace's favor."

"Ha! Passivity gets you nowhere, master. I've tried to tell you a gazillion times, but you never listen..."

"We've split the last four, I believe," Obi-wan blithely retorted. "I do learn from my defeats, Anakin. And when, exactly, were you planning on joining me?"

Anakin smirked. "Variables, remember? Perhaps the original party decided to bow out once the third party butt in. Situations are never static, if I remember your teaching correctly. Always liable to change..."

"Infuriating scoundrel," Obi-wan spat even as he flashed his former padawan a rueful grin. "It appears you have been paying attention occasionally."

Anakin matched the grin. "Occasionally," he agreed.

"You two are impossible," Mace said, catching Obi-wan off guard with an unexpected change of direction. The younger master ducked under the ensuing swipe and barely got his blade up to deflect two well-time thrusts. Mace seemed to get even quicker as he bore down on Obi-wan.

"Blast it," Obi-wan muttered before abandoning dignity in exchange for avoiding losing a limb entirely. He basically flopped to the floor beneath Mace's next combination and rolled swiftly to his feet behind the Korun master. The whole thing looked absolutely horrendous to Anakin's well-trained eyes.

"Very smooth, master," he called out.

"Stow it, brat," Obi-wan retorted.

Spatterings of giggles could be heard from the initiates and some even began to yell out suggestions, to Obi-wan's dismay and Anakin's amusement.

"Plant your feet, master!"

"Stop moving so much!"

"Parries, not blocks." The last one was said with almost the exact lilt and pitch of Cin Drallig's smooth voice that Anakin couldn't help but laugh. Even Obi-wan's mouth quirked up in an amused grin as he deftly parried another three slices away.

"Thank you, Riik. Your advice is much appreciated..."

"DUCK!" a couple dozen voices yelled at once.

Obi-wan was quick to obey and Mace turned his aggressive blow into a fiery combination of stabs and cuts that left the younger man scrambling to regroup. Obi-wan grunted when Mace finally backed him straight into a wall.

Anakin shook his head. "Well now look what you've done, master. You've completely lost whatever advantage you had to begin with. Perhaps a more aggressive approach would have worked better..."

His friend was doing all he could to keep Mace at bay in the limited amount of space he had, and yet he still dredged up the effort to send Anakin a sizzling glare. "You were my 'more aggressive approach', Anakin."

"I do believe you've just been branded a traitor, Skywalker," Mace drawled even as he managed to score a light graze on Obi-wan's shin.

The shorter master grunted again and unleashed a viper-quick stab at Mace's midsection in retaliation. Clearly not expecting it, Mace leapt lightly out of reach and Obi-wan took the opportunity to move away from the wall and catch his breath. He was still glaring daggers at his partner.

Anakin still stood, unmoving, a few yards away. He merely smirked at the dark-skinned man. "I've been called worse." He shrugged. "You know, Master Windu, I think we've finally found something that we have in common."

A brief flicker of disbelief fell across Mace's face. "And what's that?"

"We both like to spar, and we both have the rare talent of getting under my master's skin."

Mace's gaze flicked back to Obi-wan and he smirked. "As much as I hate to admit that we share anything in common, I do believe you're right, Skywalker."

Anakin followed his gaze and was surprised to find that Obi-wan had a pleased expression on his face, like he'd just achieved something considered impossible. The young knight frowned. "And what's got you so blasted happy?"

Obi-wan smirked. "I daresay you two just had a moment. As far as I'm concerned, my work is done here." And with that, he flicked off his saber and made as if to leave. As in leave the room and retire for the night.

What a sneaky, no good, double-crossing, conniving chosski. Anakin had known... well, perhaps not. But he should have known that Obi-wan had alternative motives for drawing Mace's anger to himself. And now that he couldn't thwart those motives, Anakin sure as heck wasn't going to admit to possibly, maybe, slightly liking his longtime nemesis.

No. He couldn't have that. He wasn't going to give his former master the satisfaction.

"Master..." he ground out, not trusting himself to say anything civilized in front of the initiates. The tone conveyed his message plainly enough.

Obi-wan paused by the door, as did the initiates already behind him. Apparently he'd already taken it upon himself to wrap up the class as well. "Yes, Anakin?" he asked, eyes all innocent while their bond positively gushed with amusement.

Anakin made as if to say something, but Mace beat him to it. "Master Kenobi, it seems we have some unfinished business. Negotiations have not yet been concluded."

Now an even stronger undercurrent of amusement was vibrating in the Force and Anakin cast a quick, sideways glance at Mace. He almost laughed at the mischievous light flashing in those dark eyes.

Ohhh master, I'm not helping you out of this one... in fact... He turned back towards Obi-wan whose mouth was now drawn in a flat line and whose eyes were now flicking between the two of them. They finally came to rest, as always, on Anakin. "I concur, master," Anakin stated, acquiring what he believed was a sophisticated tone of voice.

The silence that followed seemed to convey to the students that the floor was open for discussion and three or four hands shot into the air.

Obi-wan managed to tear his eyes from Anakin and nodded at a short Togruta girl. "Yes, Phelia?"

"Master, you can't leave the negotiations unfinished. You said in class that doing so is a waste of all previous effort."

"And you're letting the Chancellor off the hook!"

"Master, I think you're in trouble," some highly intuitive initiate said, drawing Obi-wan's gaze back to the two other men in the room.

Anakin smiled. Obi-wan looked ticked. "Indeed," the man agreed, crossing his arms. "Very well, then, Master Windu. What are your terms?"

All attention went to the tall, dark man who had coincidentally ended up in the very center of the room, as if he had intended all along to somehow wrest control of the situation from Obi-wan's strong grip. "My terms? Well they certainly aren't intended for third parties. I have an offer for young Skywalker."

Anakin's brows shot up as he turned questioningly to Mace. "Really."

Mace's answering grin was positively wizard. Anakin couldn't help but match it. Not only had he gotten to see someone else on the receiving end of Obi-wan's wit, but it seemed he was about to see the barve outwitted as well.

It seemed Obi-wan knew this too, because a muttered 'Blast it!' could be heard from his direction.

"Really, Skywalker. I suggest a truce on the single condition that Master Kenobi gets a lesson in fair turnabout. It's apparent that he doesn't understand that people don't appreciate being manipulated."

Anakin suppressed the unnaturalness of actually working together with Mace Windu on something and grinned, extending his non-sparking hand. "A truce, then."

Mace matched the grin, shook his hand, and turned back to Obi-wan who had his lightsaber in his hand once more. "It appears I've been outmaneuvered," he blithely observed, though the ever-so-slight twitch of his mouth conveyed his amusement. He never had been one to stay ticked for long. "I suppose you two don't want to renegotiate the terms to include the unfortunate third party?"

"You would be correct," Mace said.

"Ditto," Anakin agreed.

A heavy, exaggerated sigh followed the exchange and Obi-wan shook his head. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered as he moved to meet them both in the middle of the room again. "Well," he began, raising his saber in another simple salute. "Shall we?"

"Is this supposed to be a lesson in how to negotiate, or how not to negotiate?" someone asked from by the door.

Two more sabers raised themselves in salute and Anakin laughed.

Obi-wan sighed again, a rueful grin lighting up the room, the Force dancing in anticipation. "Take it as you like!" he called back.

"I think it's a lesson in manipulation," another initiate answered, causing another to pipe up with, "Only you're not supposed to get caught!"

"Great, Kenobi. Just magnificent. You've effectively taught the next generation everything an honorable Jedi is not supposed to do when interacting with foreign governments," Mace spat, even as he matched the younger man's grin.

Anakin flicked his blade around impatiently. "Honorable? Pft!" He gestured in Obi-wan's direction. "He's as dishonorable as they come if that's how its measured."

And this time the sigh was overly dramatic and understandably exasperated. "Thank you, Anakin. Your opinion is always appreciated." Obi-wan glanced at the two of them and then snorted. "If you two are quite finished insulting me, let's get this over with."

"So eager to meet defeat, master?" Anakin teased.

Obi-wan glared. "At the risk of sounding deplorably pessimistic... yes. I know when I've already lost. I simply would like to not postpone my embarrassment any longer."

A low chuckle sounded from Mace. "Very well, then, Kenobi."

There was a slight pause and every initiate quieted. The air tingled with unleashed adrenaline, and then the three of them moved at once.

It lasted all of forty seconds. Obi-wan managed to duck under Anakin's first swipe while simultaneously thwarting Mace's first combination of attacks, but things went decidedly downhill after that.

Mace followed up with a sizzling succession of five quick thrusts and Anakin moved to attack low while Obi-wan was occupied.

The Negotiator simply laughed, ungracefully dancing around Anakin's blade and finally tripping over his own two feet. He fell, landing in an undignified heap of singed tunic, and wrinkled trousers. Mace actually paused, chuckling at the sight, and Anakin quickly leveled his blade at his former master. "Yield -"

Obi-wan batted Anakin's blade to the side with a single, strong cut and brought his own saber back around in a graceful, twisting motion that sliced cleanly through his intended target.

Sparks flew, but only for a moment.

The rest of Anakin's pathetic digit landed right at Mace's feet, sparking one last time and then dying with an epic fizzle. Something else skittered off to the side, leaving a thin trail of smoke in its wake.

"You - you- its -" Anakin sputtered, lifting his damaged appendage.

Obi-wan frowned. "Hmmm. I think I miscalculated."

Mace took in the situation, looking somewhat pleased at the fact that Anakin was now missing three of his fingers instead of just the one. "Justifiably so."

Anakin glared down at the culprit. "Why can't you ever just simply yield, master?!"

Obi-wan eyed the blade that was still leveled at his neck and flashed a wry grin. "Not in my nature, I suppose. You, ah, may want to get that looked at sometime in the near future..."

"Yield," Anakin growled, eyes flashing.

Obi-wan's blade shrunk back into its hilt and he held up his hands. "I yield."

The instant the words were out of his mouth, Anakin shut down his own saber and stalked towards the door. "I'm confiscating your tea for the next week!" he shouted over his shoulder as he threw open the door.

Shock froze Obi-wan to the floor for only a couple of seconds before he was on his feet faster than Mace would have expected. "Now wait just a minute, Anakin!" he bellowed, scrambling to catch up with the infuriating man. "You have no right to just -"

Anakin's answering yell could be heard clearly despite the distance separating them. "TWO weeks, Obi-wan!"

The salle was silent for a moment with the absence of the two Jedi, but it didn't take long for a few muffled giggles to break through. Mace couldn't help but smile and shake his head. "Class dismissed," he said, waving the kids off.

Blast that infuriating, manipulative gundark of a Jedi. His homicidal intentions had been thoroughly squelched, leaving him in a decidedly unnatural mood.

Mace smirked. He would have to thank the man later.

Hope it at least got a giggle out of you! Thanks again to those who have faithfully kept an eye out for this story. I greatly appreciate (and admire) your patience. I'm hoping to wrap this story up in one or two more chapters, and then I've contemplated doing a sequel... hmmm... tempting...

Anyways, thanks again for reading and reviewing!

"The comedy of man survives the tragedy of man." ~ GK Chesterton