"Obi." Warm, slightly damp hands closed around his upper arm and tugged. He resisted by the sheer force of his inertia. "Obi-Wan, come on."
She drew the last syllable of his name out to a ridiculous length, and he finally cracked his eyes open just enough to peer in her direction. "Who let you in?"
"Your master, of course." Bant had given up getting him out of bed by physical means and now stood with her arms crossed. The Calamarian girl wore that mournful look that for most of their lives she thought got him to do what she wanted. In reality, it had always given him the urge to toss her in the nearest river and tell her to swim and be free. "Come on, Obi, let's go do something."
"Do what?" The likelihood was low of her coming up with anything that appealed to him more than continuing his extended reunion with his pillow, but he would give her a chance.
"I don't know." He grunted and rolled to face the wall; he'd given her a chance, and she'd blown it. But she only grabbed his arm again and pulled hard, forcing him to turn back over or risk dislocating his shoulder. "Come on, you've been off-planet for months."
"Tell me about it." The pleasant drowsy haze had fled, and sighing, he finally sat up. "And I didn't get a decent night's sleep the entire time."
She sat down next to him, eyes swiveling with distress. "Again? Force, Obi, were people shooting at you again?"
"People were definitely shooting at us." He stretched, enjoying being awake much more now that he was getting sympathy for it. "And one time, when I lay down to take a nap, Master Qui-Gon realized I was on top of a plasma mine and had to levitate me off it before I set it off." It was a good story now, but at the time, he could not remember ever being more scared. Or seeing his master more frantic.
"Oh, Obi." She patted his cheek in affection. "How come you and Master Qui-Gon get all the exciting missions?"
"Exciting?" She had to be kidding. Exciting was getting to spar with his master or explore a city with new friends. Becoming a target in the midst of yet another planetary civil war was not exciting.
"Seems exciting to me." Two years younger than Obi-Wan, Bant had only just started leaving on the occasional mission with her master. She could not be expected to know any better.
"You won't think so when people start shooting at you," he muttered and swung his legs off the bed. "Anyway, I don't know why Qui-Gon and I get so many of these nasty missions. Master Windu just keeps sending us over to Chancellor Valorum, and then Chancellor Valorum starts talking about how the peace of the Republic is in our hands." He yawned again. "I just know it means I'm not going to see my bed again for a while."
"Well, you are the hot shot team in the Order right now."
The sympathy was decreasing, and he frowned. "That doesn't mean we should have to do everything ourselves. And we never get any of the fun missions. No coronations with big dances, no rescuing lost princesses, no grateful populace throwing flowers at us. Just all the Chancellor's secret operations. Where people spit on us. And shoot at us."
She softened again, then leaned forward and hugged him warmly. "Oh, my poor Obi-Wan. Doesn't seem fair to dump everything on you like that, but I know you and Master Qui-Gon are the best. Now come on, let's do something fun and get your mind off it."
He hesitated, but he was wide awake now, and the sheets were already cold again. "What did you have in mind?"
"I thought you said 'fun,' Bant!" Obi-Wan flopped onto the sofa, feeling more disgruntled than he had when she had woken him up three hours ago. "Isn't there anything fun to do here anymore?"
She dropped onto the couch next to him without answering or looking at him. When her shoulder brushed his, she scooted sharply in the opposite direction and he could feel the hurt and frustration radiating from her. Guilt slithered up from deep inside him; he had changed after being away so much, experiencing so much. The old childish haunts and games no longer held the same thrill they once did. "I'm sorry," he said, pouring his sincerity into his voice. The last thing he wanted was for Bant to feel like he was tired of her, too.
Her hand crept over and brushed his, and even though she still wasn't looking at him, he knew they were all right again.
"Okay," she said finally. "So what now?"
"Now? Now we're terminally bored."
"Terminal? It's terminal? Oh no!" She tumbled onto the floor as though in her death throes. Obi-Wan laughed, and she gave one more dramatic shudder, then lay still, staring up at the ceiling. She sighed. "Don't let my master catch you saying that. He thinks the best cure for terminal boredom is a pencil and a workbook of mechanical engineering exercises."
That didn't sound half bad to him, but he kept it to himself to avoid any more glares. "My master wouldn't be much better."
"Where is your master, anyway?" Bant turned her head lazily to look around the room, which was obviously quite empty of Obi-Wan's master or anyone else.
"Not here, I'd guess." Which was somewhat odd, since Qui-Gon had been ensconced in his chair when they left, proclaiming his intention not to stir from his book the entire day. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and looked into the Force, finding the small, warm place inside himself that was always connected to Qui-Gon, no matter where either of them were. Questing with the Force, he reached out to his master until he felt Qui-Gon's response. He was smiling as he opened his eyes, but it quickly faded. "He's with the Council. They're questioning him about our last mission. I should be there."
"If he needed you to be there, he would have called you," she reasoned.
He chewed on his lip, then sighed. "I know. But Master Windu is laying into him again, and he doesn't deserve that."
Bant watched him from the floor as he stood up and began to pace around the room. "And I suppose if you had gone with him you would have stood there in the middle of the Council Chamber and told the senior member of the Council to lay off your master?"
He flushed. "No, of course not. But I wish they would ease up, just this once. It was a hard mission for him."
With a sudden heave, she vaulted to her feet in one move. "Don't worry so much, you know he can handle it. Master Windu wouldn't send you on so much if he didn't know you both could handle it."
"Yeah." She was right, but this was one of those days when it just didn't seem fair, regardless. "Windu's just always so cold," he continued, with reckless disregard for the respect due a master. "He's never sympathetic toward Qui-Gon because he doesn't have a heart. He just has a piece of titanium lodged in his chest. I'm not sure I even believe he's really human."
"Of course he's human." She snorted. "Not that as a species you're anything to brag about when it comes to compassion."
"Still, I bet he doesn't even eat or sleep," Obi-Wan said, setting his chin stubbornly. Not that he had not seen Master Windu eating in the dining hall on many occasions, but he was enjoying his rant. "He probably doesn't have anything in his quarters except a meditation mat. And maybe a tea kettle."
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm sure he's got quarters just like everyone else's." She folded her arms and looked down at him, mock-patronizing.
He mimicked her posture. "Prove it."
A strange gleam flashed in her eyes, and a flush he recognized spread over her skin. "Okay," she said. "I will. Let's go."
"What are you... Bant, where are you going?" he called, jumping to his feet as she headed for the door.
"You wanted excitement, Kenobi. Well, this is it." Stopping at the door, she looked at him challengingly. "Let's go see what his quarters look like."
"Do you have water on your brain?" he demanded. His heart pounded with the idea. It would be exciting, but.... "Do you have any conception of what he would do to us if he caught us?"
"Boil us in his lone tea kettle, I assume," she said archly. "He won't catch us, he's busy yelling at your master. Based on past experience, I'm sure he'll be occupied for a while."
The idea held far more appeal than good sense would approve. Mace Windu was probably the most enigmatic Jedi in the order; he was kind, but distant, so far above the young initiates and padawans as to seem more like a legend than a living man. A little exploration would not only sate his natural itching curiosity, but would make them heroes among their peers. Qui-Gon would be furious if he ever found out, but they knew Windu was in the Council Chamber, and if they were careful, no one would ever know. "Well," he said slowly.
"Good," Bant answered and grinned.
"Well," he said, turning in a slow circle.
"Well," she echoed, tapping her hand against her thigh.
They had gotten into Master Windu's quarters without incident. No one had noticed two padawans running errands in the masters' residential corridors, and no one at all had been within eyeshot when they had slipped through Master Windu's door. Jedi did not lock their doors: they trusted each other and had nothing to hide. Obi-Wan focused on the latter axiom as they stood in Windu's living room, alone with their prize.
Bant took a few steps further in, and he followed. "It's interesting," he said.
"You mean, it's boring." She sighed, walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning her forehead on her hands. "It's exactly like every other master's quarters."
He scratched his head, looking around again. In layout, it was indeed very much like every other suite of rooms allocated to those who reached the rank of Master. At least, it looked very much like Qui-Gon's quarters, and those of Bant's master, and of the few others he had seen. The style of some of the furnishings differed, and of course Windu had his own collection of knick-knacks and decorations from his home world and the many other planets he had visited. But at first glance, the knick-knacks seemed as innocuous and uninteresting as most of Qui-Gon's were, at least to two teenage padawans. "There's got to be stuff in here," he said, mostly to make Bant feel better. "We've just got to look around."
She got to her feet, still looking dubious. "Well, even if we don't find anything interesting, at least I've proved my point."
Laughing, Obi-Wan put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I'll concede that," he teased, and she elbowed him lightly. "But we haven't even looked anywhere else. I bet he's got a flat sheet of ice that he sleeps on instead of a bed."
"We're already here." She giggled and dashed for the back of the suite. "We might as well see."
He raced her to the door, losing only by a step, and although Windu had what seemed to be a ordinary bed, the thrill of being in forbidden territory made up for the normality. They perused the books and pictures on his shelves, careful to put everything back in its precise place. "Look at this." Obi-Wan handed Bant a small but expensive-looking crystal cube frame. "Master Gallia when she was Master Windu's apprentice."
"She looks so young," Bant marveled as she turned the picture into the light. "You think our masters will keep pictures of us in their rooms after we're knights?"
"I don't know." He wasn't sure Qui-Gon even had a picture of him at all. Taking the holopic back from Bant, he exchanged it for another. A different woman looked back at him from within the frame, her dark eyes warm and mysterious. Something in the look she gave the camera made Obi-Wan's stomach flutter. "Look at her, Bant. Do you know who she is?"
Bant took the picture and studied it. "I've never seen her before, I don't think. She's so beautiful." She handed it back and he looked at it again, still fascinated by her gaze. Only the sudden jump in Bant's voice broke him from his trance. "Obi! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Someone just came in!" She snatched the picture from his hand and stuck it back in its place on the bedside table. "He's back!"
Now he heard it, too. Footsteps, muffled across the carpeted floor and loud across the tiled portion, marked the passage of a large man around the outer apartment. It had to be Master Windu. He cursed himself for not paying cursory attention to Qui-Gon's presence; he might have sensed the Council session ending. "We've got to get out of here."
"We have a door going to the service corridor from our 'fresher room," Bant said, eyes wide with panic. "Maybe he does, too."
"No time," Obi-Wan whispered frantically. He could hear the footsteps coming closer, and he looked around the room in desperation. The closet was the nearest hiding place, and he grabbed Bant's arm and dragged her with him as he flung open the doors and dove in. Together they pulled the doors shut just as the door to the room swooshed open.
Tuneless humming heralded Master Windu's entrance and let them track his movements around the room. The sound got closer until Obi-Wan imagined he could feel the heat of Windu's form just on the other side of the thin doors. Bant pulled at his tunic, and they burrowed deeper into the wardrobe, silently shifting the hanging robes to hide them better. No sooner had they done so than the closet doors slid open.
Bant started to squeak, and Obi-Wan clapped his hand over her mouth. Just inches from their faces, a dark hand reached in and began flipping through the hanging garments. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, willing himself to utter stillness and invisibility, both physically and in the Force. Qui-Gon had taught him this skill, and although he was fairly sure his master had not intended it for this precise use, it seemed to work well enough. Windu pulled a garment from the closet and shut the doors without noticing them.
Obi-Wan kept his hand over Bant's mouth through the rustling sounds of the councilor changing, and even after the door opened and shut again and the footsteps faded into faint kitchen noises. Finally, she bit him. "Ow!" he hissed, but let go.
She carefully pushed the doors open again. "Let's get out of here."
Climbing out after her, he started to follow her toward the attached 'fresher, but another sound from within Windu's quarters caught his attention. "Wait," he whispered, waving his hand at her to stop. "I thought I heard him talking."
"Obi!" she protested, but he was already pressing his ear against the wall next to the door.
"Shhh. I can hear him. And there's someone else in there with him."
Still making a show of protesting, she crept up beside him. She triggered the door sensor, but when it started to open, she stopped it, leaving a crack no wider than Obi-Wan's little finger for them to peer through. He grinned at her with admiration. That was a trick he had never seen.
In a straight line from the door they could see the dining table, or most of it. It was set with finer cloths and dishes than he remembered seeing when they had come in, and expensive-looking wax candles flickered in intricate silver holders. The voices--the deepest Master Windu, and the other almost as deep and almost as familiar--were clearer now.
"Sit," Master Windu was saying. "Relax. There are no bureaucrats or lobbyists here."
"Thank your Force for that," the second voice said. "I don't think I can take another day like today."
"You say that every day," Master Windu responded, then gave a low, intimate laugh which his companion echoed.
"You know I only say it to get sympathy." The source of the other voice stepped into view, and suddenly Obi-Wan knew why the voice was familiar. The tall, distinguished man was unmistakable. It was Supreme Chancellor Valorum himself.
He seated himself at the table, and Master Windu stepped behind him, dressed in elegant grey. The same long fingers that had almost discovered them in their hiding place now rested on the Chancellor's shoulders, lightly caressing, and then skillfully massaging. "You know you will always find me sympathetic."
Obi-Wan drew away from the door to find Bant turning toward him at the same time. Their mouths opened in identical silent shrieks. "I knew it!" Obi-Wan whispered at last as Bant pulled him back. "I knew there was a reason we keep getting assigned to Valorum. I knew he asks for us, and now I know why Windu never says no!"
Bant's mouth opened and shut in a demonstration of her heritage. Then she let out a low, breathless squeal before collapsing into silent giggles. She sobered when he started looking around again. "What are you doing?"
"I saw a holovid camera in here somewhere." Spotting it on a shelf of the bookcase, he snatched it up and went back to the door.
"What are you doing?" she demanded more urgently. She hit his shoulder as he carefully aimed the camera towards the couple outside. "What do you think you're going to do, blackmail Master Windu into giving you cushy missions?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan said, and it was the truth. They could never show it to Qui-Gon or anyone else. "But I want proof of this."
"You're insane." She muttered to herself and stepped back as he set the camera.
His hands were sweating as he looked through the lens, making sure it was catching the right view. Windu was sitting at the table beside Valorum now, hand over the other man's, leaning in and speaking softly to him. He had never heard Windu use that tone before, and it made him slightly queasy. Windu leaned in even closer, murmured a suggestion that Obi-Wan barely heard-and by the time his brain fully processed it, the camera was already slipping out of his numbed hands.
It hit the floor with a damning thump, his fingers fumbling over it a microsecond too late. He heard Bant's soft curse and Windu's puzzled query at the same instant he picked it up. Those all-too-familiar footsteps grew louder as Windu came to investigate. Then Bant was dragging him into the 'fresher room, and they scrambled through the small door the maintenance droids used to enter and clean.
The little door slid shut behind them with an anticlimactic click. Panting with the adrenaline rush, they pressed their backs against the wall of the narrow service corridor, waiting, although Obi-Wan wasn't sure for what. They could hear nothing through the outer walls, and gradually Obi-Wan forced himself to relax. The droid door did not open, and there was no way Windu could fit through it anyway, even if he suspected that someone had escaped that way. "You were right," he said at last.
"About the door?"
"About everything. Since this morning. For the rest of our lives."
"Great," Bant replied. She let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud. "Force save us, that was too close. I hope it was worth it."
His hand began hurting, and he realized he was still clutching the holo camera. He relaxed his grip and hefted it in his hand. "Maybe. We'll see."
Bant was rubbing her arms with an expression of unease. "Okay, now I'm starting to lose my nerve. Please, let's get out of here."
"Okay," Obi-Wan said and touched her shoulder soothingly. "Let's go get some food. I'll race you to the dining hall."
She grinned with relief, then took off around the corner. He followed, boots pounding, eyes seeking the white of her tunic ahead of him. He heard her shriek only a second before he slammed into the bulky figure obstructing the hallway.
Dizzy from the impact and feeling unsteady on his feet, he shook his head to clear it. The pressure at his throat was his first clue that he was no longer on his feet at all. A huge, strong hand had twisted into the back of his tunic and was lifting him off the ground. He dropped the holo camera; looking down, he watched a booted foot crush it beneath one heel. Gulping, he raised his eyes.
Like a forbidding mountain, or the approaching fall of darkness on a barren moon, the craggy and implacable visage of Jedi Master Mace Windu filled his field of vision.
And he did not look amused.
The trip back to his own quarters was at once the longest and shortest trip he had ever experienced. Long, despite Windu's floor-eating strides, because of the grip Windu still had on his shirt, dangling him above the ground like a sack of flour. Short, despite the side trip to deposit Bant back in her rooms to await her absent master, because he would rather Windu choke him to death than face Qui-Gon when they arrived.
But despite his fervent prayers and promises to the Force, the Sith did not destroy the Temple at that moment, nor did Master Windu suddenly laugh and tell him to run along. And in the final cosmic insult, Qui-Gon was indeed home when Windu pounded his fist on the door to their quarters, shouting his name.
As the door slid open, Obi-Wan would rather have never been Qui-Gon's apprentice at all than see his master's expression when he saw Mace Windu holding Obi-Wan by the scruff of the neck. In that moment, Qui-Gon seemed to wilt. He bowed his head before Windu could say anything, looking older than he was, and very tired.
"Obi-Wan, go to your room," he said in the voice that was calm and even only because Qui-Gon was a Jedi Master who did not scream or cry, no matter how much he wanted to.
Windu released him without warning, dropping him from Qui-Gon's eye level to the floor. He collected himself, then forced himself to look up at Qui-Gon, although he could not quite meet the older man's eyes. "Master--"
"Go, Obi-Wan."
He went. The door closed behind him, and he stood frozen, staring vacantly at his bed. Outside he could hear Master Windu's booming voice rising in outrage, then the counterpoint of Qui-Gon's low, reasoning tones. The voices rose and fell in incoherent waves as Obi-Wan stood numbly in the middle of his room.
At last he heard the final mutterings and the outer door opening and closing as Master Windu left. He waited, listening to the fall of Qui-Gon's feet as he passed Obi-Wan's door. His step paused for a moment, then continued on until he heard Qui-Gon's door close.
The sound broke him from his trance. He held up a hand and watched it shaking. With good reason, he thought: if Qui-Gon had not come in to discipline him immediately, it could only mean that his master could not even bear the sight of him yet. He tried to remember the last thing he had done that was this bad.
He undressed mechanically and climbed into bed. Laying on his side, he closed his eyes and pretended he was trying to sleep. But sleep was not a feasible option; the images behind his eyes held his rapt, if unwilling, attention.
Over and over he saw how tired Qui-Gon had been after their long and unsuccessful mission. He remembered how content Qui-Gon had looked in his chair with his book, waving to him as he left with Bant, trusting his padawan so much he had not even asked where they were going. And most vividly of all, he saw the look of weary disappointment and resignation when Master Windu had brought Obi-Wan back.
The sheets bunched in his fist as he gripped them in frustrated guilt. Qui-Gon had been so patient and generous. He had not even asked Obi-Wan to report to the Council with him, letting his apprentice take a day of fun while he faced the approbation of the Council on his own. And in thanks, Obi-Wan had shamed him before the senior member of the Council. Instead of supporting his master, he had made himself another burden on Qui-Gon's already-taxed shoulders.
For all his outraged indignation over Master Windu's treatment of Qui-Gon, he had done his master a far greater-and less excusable-disservice.
By midnight, he had given up on self-flagellation in favor of self-pity. He seemed to have an endless supply of it, no matter how many times he resigned his guilt to the Force. It welled up every time he let his guard down enough to doze off. He would be a wreck when he faced Qui-Gon in the morning if he did not sleep, but the best he could manage was a trance-like numbness, almost the opposite of real meditation. The minutes inched past.
His time sense had just registered the third hour of the morning when he heard a soft tread outside his door. As the door opened, his heart thumped audibly and his chest constricted, but he lay still, eyes barely cracked. A rectangle of light fell over him, broken by the large figure that stood under the lintel.
Qui-Gon took a step forward, and the room fell dark again as the door shut. He shut his eyes, but he could hear Qui-Gon breathing as he crossed the room in two steps. The bed shifted as Qui-Gon sat down next to him.
He did not so much as twitch, though Qui-Gon had to know he was awake. If he had dared to look into the Force himself, he would have already known that Qui-Gon was as wakeful as he was, and he would have a better idea of his master's mood. But even now, especially now, with Qui-Gon sitting next to him, he thought he would rather not know.
The headboard creaked as Qui-Gon leaned up against it, and Obi-Wan could visualize him drawing one knee up to his chest in his favorite conversational posture. Fingertips brushed across Obi-Wan's temple and brow, a signal that Qui-Gon did indeed know he was awake, and did not intend to continue the charade. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, but did not speak. He stared morosely at Qui-Gon's leg until his master broke the silence. "I've seen a great many things in my years, Obi-Wan, and there's very little that can surprise me anymore. But somehow, once again, you've managed it."
If he burrowed head-first under the coverlet, would Qui-Gon leave, or would he drag him back out by his braid? The latter seemed a good deal more likely, but at least it would spare him having to come up with something worthwhile to say. "I'm sorry," he muttered at last, but it sounded lame even to his own ears.
"Oh, I know you're sorry." The edge in Qui-Gon's voice carried a clear message: Obi-Wan would be even sorrier if this conversation did not go to his master's satisfaction. "What I don't understand is what could possibly make a padawan I raised perform such a ridiculously stupid stunt as sneaking into Mace Windu's quarters and trying to holorecord his private rendezvous."
It all sounded even stupider than he remembered it, when Qui-Gon said it. "I-" Obi-Wan started, then found his mouth snapping shut. Every explanation his conscience feverishly produced dissolved into laughing disbelief before he could articulate it.
Qui-Gon was already shaking his head the way he did when he intended to forestall any excuses before he had to listen to them. "Truly, Obi-Wan, what did you hope to accomplish?"
A surge of the anger that had sustained him under Mace Windu's glare sent him bolting upright to face Qui-Gon for the first time. "It isn't fair! We get sent to these horrible places, one after the other, where no one else is even willing to go. And do we get thanked for it? No, we get chided by the Council and especially Mace Windu for not being politically correct about it! We haven't had more than a day's rest in the last six months, you've got a new scar the length of my foot and the width of my thumb on your leg, and now I find out it was all so that Mace Windu can cuddle with Chancellor Valorum after he's done abusing you?" His voice cracked around the lump of angry tears in his throat. "How am I supposed to react to that?"
"With the honor and integrity I've tried to teach you, I would hope." Qui-Gon's words cut deep, and Obi-Wan drew back.
"I-I'm--" He had to swallow the lump down further before he shamed himself even more by crying. "I'm sorry," he said again, and this time heard the sincerity in his voice as much as he felt it.
"I know," Qui-Gon answered again, voice gentling into real humor. "And I would be touched by your concern for me, if not for your rather unique way of demonstrating it."
"I wasn't going to do anything with it, really." He was determined to conquer the lump, despite its alliance with his remorse and the sense in his master's voice that Qui-Gon intended to be merciful, and probably beyond what Obi-Wan deserved. "I just wanted proof that we really saw it, that I was right. I was so furious at him."
The confession felt good as he blurted it out, although uncontrolled anger, in Qui-Gon's eyes, would be an even greater offense than what he had done because of it. But Qui-Gon only sighed and touched Obi-Wan's hair again in affectionate exasperation. "Oh, Obi-Wan. Someday. Someday I swear I will find a way to drum that stubborn temper right out of your stubborn head." He sighed and dropped his hand. Obi-Wan felt the same weariness as he had sensed earlier settling back onto Qui-Gon's frame. A single sharp claw of remorse scraped down his sternum at having been the cause of it. "But it won't be tonight."
As much as he would give to be able to do it, he could not erase the disappointment he could see dimly shimmering in his master's eyes. But at least he could stop compounding it. He girded himself. "I will gladly accept any correction you honor me with, Master."
"Oh, will you now?"
He winced at the tolerant amusement. "Yes, Master."
"And by correction you mean punishment, yes?"
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon leaned his head back against the wall and stretched his bent knee out over the coverlet with a little grunt. "My job isn't to punish you, Obi-Wan, except as a last resort to make you understand that you have done something wrong. But you're more than old enough to understand that without my intervention, and I don't think turning you over my knee is going to solve anything, do you?"
If he had been standing, his own knees would have trembled. "No, Master."
"Then tomorrow you will apologize to Master Windu, and that will be the end of it."
That sounded bad enough. As sorry as he was for disappointing his master, he still resented the obvious abuse of Windu's august and sacred Council responsibilities.
Though Qui-Gon did not seem to see it that way, despite his near-constant frustration with the Council as a whole and Mace Windu in particular. Not that Qui-Gon's opinions on the Council had not always seemed either slightly hypocritical or schizophrenic to him, depending on the state of Obi-Wan's temper. Qui-Gon fought with them like a wild cat and muttered about stagnation and willful blindness every time he lost a battle. But whenever Obi-Wan tried to commiserate, Qui-Gon admonished him to respect and obedience. He did his best to be both respectful and obedient, but when he thought about his master's standing with them, it was harder than it should have been.
Windu had to know exactly how he felt. And he was not going to be satisfied with a mere apology, especially not one of such dubious sincerity. "Master Windu will expect more than that."
Qui-Gon chuckled with a deep, tired rasp. "Master Windu quite liked the idea of turning you over my knee. Or his knee, preferably, to make sure the job got done properly."
He would probably want Obi-Wan spanked right in front of the entire Council, even Master Yoda. "He has a right to demand it."
"He is not your master, and it is not his decision to make." Qui-Gon patted his leg through the blanket. Obi-Wan knew the gesture was meant to reassure him, but his master's undeserved kindness only increased his anxiety. "Despite the occasional glaring personality flaw and a temper almost as bad as yours, he is a master of great wisdom and perspective. He will get over it."
"I'm sure he will," Obi-Wan persisted. Qui-Gon would protect him if he let him, but after all his ranting about how badly Windu treated Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan would be the worst kind of hypocrite to let his master bear the brunt of his own wrongdoing. "But he'll order you to punish me, and he'll make your life hell until you do it."
"Then I'll tell him that I already did." Qui-Gon never lied to the Council; at times, he could be obnoxious about giving them the entire lurid truth when he knew it would discomfit them. But he had also never had any compunctions about telling his own special version of the truth when he felt it was appropriate. Obi-Wan had never quite figured out what the criteria were for an appropriate situation, but he had a feeling it was not going to work out this time.
"He'll know you're lying."
"So let him accuse me, if he dares." He tilted Obi-Wan's chin up to catch the dim light, his own features showing his bemusement. "What is this, Padawan? Are you trying to argue yourself into a spanking?" Mockingly, he moved his hand to feel Obi-Wan's forehead.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied bluntly, and Qui-Gon dropped his hand in surprise. "I won't let him beat up on you anymore, not for something I did."
Qui-Gon laughed, and Obi-Wan felt himself bristle. "Let me deal with Mace Windu."
"You shouldn't have to."
A frown creased Qui-Gon's forehead, and Obi-Wan sensed that a great deal of meditation was in his future, punishment or not. "And you needn't play the martyr."
"Why, am I horning in on your job?" Obi-Wan shot back, and then the blood drained from his face as he felt Qui-Gon's shock, and with dismay, he knew he had won.
His master's face went blank and cold, except for the brief flare of anger in his eyes. "Very well, Padawan." He held one arm out at an angle. "If you're so eager, I am happy to oblige."
He swallowed hard. His eagerness faded quickly as he took in Qui-Gon's stiff posture and stony glare. He had asked for this, but he had not intended to make Qui-Gon so angry at the same time. As he rose to his knees and fumbled with the waistband of his pants, his ears burned with furious embarrassment. This was a child's punishment, and he was no longer a child, even if he had acted like one.
Qui-Gon seemed to follow his thoughts as he finished sliding his pants down to his knees. "How long has it been since we had to do this, Obi-Wan?"
The cool air of the room chilled his backside as he bent over Qui-Gon's lap, his master's outstretched arm supporting his shoulders and chest. "Three years and eight months. And some days." He might have been able to render a more precise count had Qui-Gon not suddenly pushed his knees out from under him, bringing him down onto Qui-Gon's thighs and scattering his thoughts. "A few days, at least."
"Can we try to make it a little longer than that before the next time?" The wry tone could be a good sign or a bad sign; he had already shut himself off too much to tell. He did not answer, and for a moment Qui-Gon did not move. Although only a few seconds passed, they felt like hours as his bare skin got colder, until he wondered if Qui-Gon meant to wait for his reply after all.
Then Qui-Gon's open hand hit his exposed bottom with a loud smack. He jerked and winced, as much from the sound as from the sting. The second strike fell an instant later, and he forced himself to stay still for it. They followed quickly after that, in a rhythm that began to lull him into a stupor as his backside grew warm and started to hurt.
He bit down on his lip, but at last a small whimper escaped. Immediately, the blows ceased. Qui-Gon's touch grew gentle as he soothed the sore area with healing Force, just enough to ease the worst of the sting. It did not need much; even in his anger, Qui-Gon had been gentler than Obi-Wan thought he deserved. He would spend the rest of the night on his side or stomach, but the pain would fade by the time he rose in the morning.
Tears pricked his eyes as Qui-Gon levered him upright, then back down onto his side under the covers, his face pressed into his pillow to mask his sniffles. Between the pain and the relief, his concentration had slipped and he could feel his master's relief and regret mirroring his own. But now Qui-Gon could honestly tell the Council he had punished Obi-Wan until he cried, and there was nothing Mace Windu could say about it.
Qui-Gon gave him one last soft whack on his behind, obviously following his line of thought. Obi-Wan groaned into the fabric under his face. "I know, I know. Respectful and obedient."
"More than that, Obi-Wan. More than that." They fell silent for a moment. Qui-Gon tugged on Obi-Wan's braid reflectively for a moment before continuing. "I feel bad, sometimes, for making you do as much as we have to do."
"No, Master--" Obi-Wan pushed himself up onto his elbow, starting to protest, but Qui-Gon held up a hand to stop him.
"You are still young, Obi-Wan, and I ask much more of you than most other masters would at your age. I would make your life easier if I could, but that is not the path either of us has chosen."
He hauled himself upright, ignoring the pain. "I wouldn't let you. You don't ask any more of me than I can do. I'm proud to serve beside you, and I know what we do is important." He could feel himself starting to babble, but he could not make himself stop until he convinced Qui-Gon of his sincerity. "I wasn't complaining for my own sake."
"I know." Qui-Gon pushed him insistently back down to his pillow, tucking the blanket around him as though he were still young. "But you realize, everything you said is true for both of us, not just you."
Obi-Wan frowned up at him, too tired to follow a lesson now. "I don't understand."
"What we do is important, and we don't do it because Master Windu or Chancellor Valorum want us to. We do it because it needs to be done, and we are the ones who can. It is an honor and privilege to be able to do so. Who asks us to do it is irrelevant-it is the will of the Force that we follow."
"I know." And he did know; he had never forgotten it, but the thing with Windu was something different. He could not explain how it was different, but it was. "It's just...."
"I know." He could not tell if Qui-Gon was mimicking him or not, and the smile quirking the corners of Qui-Gon's mouth did not help him decide. "But we must not make the same mistake we sometimes see the Council make, letting personal or technical objections interfere with what we know from the Force is right."
It did not seem that simple to him, somehow, but he nodded. Qui-Gon probably had more than enough energy for another argument, but he was not sure he did. Questions could wait until he had meditated on it in the morning.
His master did not demand any other answer. Qui-Gon leaned back against the headboard and stared reflectively into the dimness. He seemed in no hurry to leave, and Obi-Wan did not want him to. He liked the quiet peace between them; they had not enjoyed much uninterrupted peace in a long time.
The comfortable silence had almost lulled his tired mind into a doze when Qui-Gon broke it with a soft chuckle. "Mace and Chancellor Valorum, eh?"
Obi-Wan lifted his head enough to blink cautiously up at his master. "So the evidence tonight seemed to indicate."
Qui-Gon kept laughing, as though at a private joke. "I knew he had a mystery man in the picture, but... Mace and Valorum. That really does explain so much."
He wanted to ask what Qui-Gon meant, but settled for grinning as though sharing his master's amusement. Better not to push his luck tonight. "Yes, Master."
Still chuckling to himself, Qui-Gon finally pushed himself off the bed. He smoothed the blanket next to Obi-Wan, then bent and pressed his lips to the top of Obi-Wan's head. "Sleep now, Padawan."
"Tomorrow will be an interesting day," Obi-Wan replied, completing one of Qui-Gon's favorite sayings, already drifting back into his sleepy haze.
Qui-Gon laughed again from the vicinity of the door. "They all are, with you. Good night, my Obi-Wan."
"Good night, Master," he mumbled, and never remembered hearing the door close.
END
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